Just when she thought to concede defeat, she saw it.
Picking up the fashion plate, Lilian sighed in reverence. The ball gown could be made in any color, but the one in this sketch was sapphire-blue and absolutely beautiful. The sleeves were short and only slightly puffed, the neckline square and trimmed with lace to draw the eye to a lady’s bosom yet only reveal the very top, and a narrow fitted gold sash rested just beneath. The gown fell to ankle length, as appropriate for dancing, but the overlay of lace had a glorious pattern of small flowers, and each flower had a tiny cluster of paste gems at the center that would shimmer when she moved. “This one. In silk.”
Dawn looked over and her face lit up. “Ooooh, yes, ma’am. You’ll look a treat.”
“Daisy!” Lilian called out, and seconds later, the modiste ducked around the curtain.
“You’ve found something?”
“I have. I do hope it can be done, because it is the gown of my dreams.”
The modiste grinned. “Of course it can be done, Your Grace. I’ll work day and night if need be. What is your choice?”
Lilian handed over the plate, and Daisy nodded thoughtfully. “Silk? What colors would you like the gown?”
“Silk, yes. As a matter of fact, I love the blue.”
“Just like your eyes, ma’am. It will look lovely. Elbow-length gloves, your hair up with sapphire combs, satin slippers…”
Dawn sighed in rapture. “You’ll be the belle of the ball.”
Getting to her feet, Lilian shook out the skirts of her green gown. After looking at a fashion plate like that, it seemed a crime to be wearing something so ugly and ill-fitting. No wonder Exton hated it so. “Well then, let us take some measurements. I must return home for a meeting, but I shall look forward to coming back for fittings.”
Soon she stood in only her chemise and stays atop a low, padded footstool. Daisy whipped out a tape measure and a small notebook and pencil, and began taking notes. “Excellent figure, ma’am. Very easy to sew for.”
“That is a relief,” said Lilian, smiling, and when Daisy had finished, she stepped down from the stool and Dawn helped her back into the green gown. “Please send a note to Grosvenor Square when you are ready to begin.”
“Of course.”
Lilian nearly twirled as they walked away from the shop. She would be wearing the perfect gown to the Castlereagh ball, and Exton would surely like it. But even better, she had set to rights that dreadful incident at Rundells, and hopefully ensured that her husband would never experience such bad behavior there again.
All in all, a most wonderful day.
* * *
When his wife returned from the modiste, she practically glowed.
Lilian stood next to him in his library waiting for Fairlie, and Gabriel could only nod gravely as bizarre phrases like ‘fashion plate’ and ‘lace overlay’ danced in the air. While he liked seeing her genuinely happy, more than that, in her bubbling excitement, she had taken his hands in hers. As it remained the only touch he could bear, to the only part of his body where his mind didn’t hurl him back to the nightmares of Bayonne, he wanted to prolong it as long as possible. Especially because Lilian had taken off her gloves, and her hands felt warm, smooth, and delicate pressed against his.
What would it be like to have these fingers stroking his hair or chest? Clinging to his back as she orgasmed? Wrapped around his cock? Part of him yearned to know. And yet even the thought of unrestricted touch, of hands anywhere near his scars, made his stomach churn violently.
No. He definitely wasn’t ready for that. Kisses, and as much hand-holding as he could engender, it would have to be. Fortunately, Lilian didn’t want or expect more from him.
“What do you think, Exton?”
“The gown sounds just right. Especially the color. I’m rather partial to sapphire blue,” he replied, pointedly meeting her gaze.
His wife’s blush could have been used to boil water. “I, ah, well…”
A sharp knock sounded, and he sighed regretfully as she dropped his hands and stepped back from him. “Enter.”
Norris peered around the door. “Mr. Fairlie, Your Grace.”
“Send him in.”
The steward marched into the room, ledgers tucked under his arm. “Good afternoon, Your Graces.”
“Fairlie,” he said, gesturing to the other chair across from his desk after Lilian had sat down. “Take a seat.”
“Thank you, sir. I thought perhaps we could look at these ledgers first so you might familiarize yourself with the columns and language and calculations, then you could compare to some of the others you have. I understand the other stewards delivered theirs for your perusal?”
Gabriel nodded. “Yes. Some were none too pleased…to let me have them for a few days. But I insisted.”
Fairlie set his two ledgers on the desk. “A few days should hardly matter. Now, should we start with the various columns?”
As with the previous day, Lilian asked many polite but direct questions, and Fairlie answered them in great detail. His ledgers were military-neat, and surprisingly easy to follow in terms of income and expenditure. They soon reached the end, and although Gabriel’s head swam at all the estate and farming language, it had started to make sense.
Norris brought in refreshments at five o’clock, and they paused to enjoy hot tea, vanilla cream cakes, marzipan fruits, and apple tarts sprinkled with nutmeg and sugar. At the array of sweets, warmth unfolded in his chest region, and he glanced at Lilian with an appreciative smile. She had indeed spoken to the kitchens about his preferences. But they were all eager to push on, and Fairlie got up to fetch an armload of ledgers from the corner of the library overlooking a small garden and paved courtyard.
The first two they pored over together, and agreed that all appeared in order. And then came the third one, one of the larger ducal estates in the county of Sussex.
“Hmmm,” said Fairlie blandly, but his furrowed brow told a different story.
Lilian leaned in to where the steward pointed at a certain entry. “If I’m reading that correctly, it’s a very similar figure for miscellaneous costs entered within a few days in the expenditure column. Exton, look at this.”
Gabriel rubbed a hand along his jaw as his heart sank. “A large amount to be spent again…within the month. Too large to be miscellaneous.”
“Exactly, sir,” said Fairlie.
“Was there a special harvest, perhaps? Or a storm that destroyed the crop…and it needed replanting?”
The steward hesitated. “Possibly. We could look at the month prior.”
They flicked back several pages, and stared at the columns. Lilian sucked in a breath and rapped a fingernail on a certain square. “There it is again. Two large amounts within a few days of each other. Miscellaneous. Go back further.”
The damned bloody fraud carried on the same way for months. Even longer than he’d been duke, which in some ways provided a little relief that it wasn’t just him who had been fleeced, but it also meant a great deal of money had disappeared. And this for just one estate.
About to launch into a tirade, Gabriel halted at another sharp knock at the door. What now? “Enter,” he barked.
To his surprise, the lawyers Ormsby and Jacobs strolled in.
“Good afternoon, Your Grace. We are here for…oh, good gracious. Do excuse me, madam. And you, Mr. Fairlie.”
“Why are you here?” asked Gabriel warily, as he got up from his desk. Out of the corner of his eye, Lilian ushered Fairlie over to the window to admire the garden, and several footmen came in to remove the tea trays. But not quietly and discreetly; they were actually arguing the correct way to load the tray and causing every piece of crockery to bump together. The room had become Hyde Park on a sunny day. Next thing there would be a bloody marching band playing trumpets and beating drums. Perhaps fireworks as well.
Ormsby blinked owlishly, and pushed his spectacles higher up his nose. “For the meeting you scheduled with us. Don’t y
ou remember?”
“No.”
“Well, it has been postponed several times. Due to your, ah, indisposition,” said Jacobs, pulling a starched handkerchief from his jacket pocket and mopping his face. “But I’m certain today is the day.”
Gabriel glanced over at his wife. He could feel his frustration growing, and the last thing he wanted was his speech to deteriorate in front of the two interlopers. “Lilian, do you recall a meeting with…the lawyers?”
“By heavens, Your Grace,” said Ormsby with a chuckle, before she could reply. “This is men’s business. We aren’t discussing menus or hair ribbons. Besides, someone as pretty as the duchess shouldn’t be troubled by mental exertions.”
For a brief moment, he imagined hurling the man, spectacles and all, straight out the window. It would be a messy affair, but worth it. Although he might have to wait in line behind his duchess, who now stared at Ormsby with the kind of frigid smile that meant true loathing. “There is no business that my wife…cannot be privy to. She is a most…intelligent woman.”
“Oh, of course, of course,” said Jacobs, in the kind of tone reserved for soothing feral animals.
“Then perhaps you should…wait for a summons. That suits both myself…and Her Grace.”
Ormsby pursed his lips, but eventually bowed, then the two lawyers hurried from the room.
“Well,” said Fairlie, frowning again as he escorted Lilian back over to Gabriel’s desk. “How odd.”
“I honestly cannot recall you mentioning a meeting with them,” said Lilian, biting her lip.
Gabriel returned to his desk, eager to sit down and ease the weight from his throbbing foot. “That is because…I didn’t have one. Damned fools.”
“Perhaps next time they will check their own diaries a little more carefully.”
“Indeed,” said Fairlie. “Shall we get back to the…oh.”
Lilian glanced down. “Exton? Do you have the Sussex property ledger?”
Every hair on the back of his neck rose. “No. I do not.”
And when his disbelieving gaze rested on his desk, the act of sabotage became painfully clear. The ledger, with all its written proof of questionable dealings, had vanished.
* * *
That someone had dared to steal one of Exton’s ledgers made Lilian seethe with anger, but in the past few days it had also allowed the opportunity for the townhouse to be turned upside down to search for it, then the rooms swept and scrubbed. There were still a great many to be cleaned, and some were much worse than others, but she finally felt like she was making progress in her management of the household.
If only the blasted ledger could be found.
The footmen who had cleared away the tea trays claimed they hadn’t seen it. As did Ormsby and Jacobs. Also, while three more ledgers out of the sixteen in total had revealed discrepancies, none were nearly as much as the Sussex estate. And if they hadn’t had the assistance of Mr. Fairlie because of her and Exton’s inexperience, they might never have known of the fraudulent behavior going on.
But one point she would stake a large wager on: those two blasted lawyers either knew something or were somehow involved. It seemed rather coincidental that they should arrive claiming a non-existent appointment right when all the estate ledgers were being examined. They would have seen them all on an annual basis, and should have alerted the current duke if something seemed awry. Especially considering her late fiancé had not been at all business-minded.
“Ma’am? The hour is getting on. You need to start getting dressed for the ball.”
Lilian plastered a smile on her face and turned to Dawn. “Of course.”
On the bed sat a tissue-lined box containing the most beautiful gown in the world. Daisy had outdone herself, and on another day Lilian would have twirled at the thought of having an entire wardrobe of such style and expert needlework. But with the tension about the ledger, and her nerves about the ball, she couldn’t.
This evening needed to be a success.
More than anything, she wanted Exton to be accepted by the ton, to take his place at the pinnacle of society where he belonged. He deserved every accolade, and the chance to make new friendships outside the army. To be welcomed by those he would sit alongside in the House of Lords.
“Ma’am? Are you well?” said Dawn, her eyes wide. “You, er, look rather militant.”
Taking a deep breath, Lilian strolled over to her looking glass. Then she shrugged off her dressing gown and stood in just her chemise, ready to be dressed. “I’m quite well. And you are right, I need to get ready. The last thing today needs is tardiness.”
Her maid nodded as she fetched some fresh stays. “Downstairs looks so different now. The entrance hall, drawing room, parlors, music room, His Grace’s library, all sparkling like a new penny. I swear, some of those rooms were dusty enough to choke a body, and when I commented, I got told to mind my business because His Grace and the dowager didn’t care.”
“Of course they cared,” said Lilian, seething some more. “But Aunt Imogen had just buried both her sons, and Exton was so unwell with his injuries, and taking on the entirely unexpected burdens of the dukedom. I’m not impressed with the performance of Norris or Mrs. Barrett, and unless they improve, I’m unsure whether the two will have positions here in future.”
“Amen to that,” said Dawn with a grin. “Now let me dress you.”
It always took longer to get ready for a ball than expected. Stays were troublesome; sometimes laces broke, occasionally stitching frayed or bone pieces lost their shape and no longer lay perfectly flat against the body. Other times, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get them to sit properly, or were forced to tie the laces uncomfortably tight to compensate for a fondness of sweets. Thank heavens tonight fortune smiled down on her, and her stays went on with no issue, as did her thigh-high silk stockings affixed with garters, and fine linen petticoat. Then came the ball gown, and Lilian shivered as the cool, absurdly sensual sapphire-blue silk slid down her body. Dawn fastened the back, tied the gold sash, and then helped her into her elbow-length white gloves.
Lilian turned and inspected her reflection. “Hmmm. What do you think?”
Her maid beamed. “His Grace will be in transports when he sees you.”
She bit her lip to halt a wayward smile. Exton did seem to like her breasts very much, and with the square, lace-trimmed neckline and sash defining them from underneath, this gown flattered them like no gown had before. Her neck and shoulders were scandalously bare, and the color of the gown made her skin gleam like moonlight. “Then you should arrange my hair. My usual style.”
“Are you sure, ma’am? The gown is so pretty. Perhaps something a little less stern than a coiled braid?”
“Very well,” Lilian blurted, before she could change her mind.
A half hour later, she could scarcely believe her reflection in the looking glass. How could a simple hairstyle make such a difference? Dawn had arranged her hair atop her head in a chignon of looser, romantic waves secured by pins and two sapphire-studded combs. Shorter tendrils framed her face.
She looked…quite lovely. Almost as pretty as Pippa or Georgiana.
“There,” said Dawn, smugly. “Didn’t I say?”
Her lips twitched. “You did.”
Almost in unison, her clock chimed nine o’clock. Time to go downstairs. Dawn fetched her reticule, and a heavy velvet cape that Daisy had also made to match. Lilian then stepped into her best slippers.
Nerves assailed her, and she took another deep breath.
Please, please let tonight go well.
Straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin, Lilian left her bedchamber and made her way downstairs to where Exton would be waiting. She walked slowly, and kept her hand on the banister as added security—her knees were trembling, and she didn’t want to take a tumble or turn her ankle. Not tonight.
In the most gratifying moment of her life, when she neared the bottom of the stairs descending into th
e entrance hall, all conversation halted. Even the maids, who twittered like little birds most days, were silent. Somehow she managed to hold in a self-conscious giggle. This was the reaction reserved for her sisters, or the ton’s most beautiful women.
Exton cleared his throat and came to meet her. “Lilian.”
She nearly melted into a puddle at the scorching heat in his gaze, the deep, rough rasp of his voice. Or perhaps that was merely her own reaction to him. Her husband wore a black jacket, snowy-white cravat, bronze waistcoat, and formal breeches, and his shoulders had never looked so broad, his muscled thighs so firm, or his eyes so dark. Just like he had the first time they had met, he resembled a lethal warrior barely leashed in gentleman’s clothing. An erotic contrast that made her nipples tauten, and a pulse begin between her legs. “Exton.”
“You’re missing one final touch,” he murmured, opening a small case he’d been holding behind his back to reveal an elegant gold pendant set with a small oval-shaped diamond. “You will have jewelry of your own. But for tonight…this belonged to my mother.”
“It’s lovely,” she breathed in delight. Not just because the necklace was charming, but because he’d gifted her something personal to him.
“Then allow me,” he replied, his fingers caressing her sensitive neck and making her shiver as he closed the clasp. “Now. Let us go. St James’s Square awaits.”
Chapter 10
The enclosed space of a carriage was difficult enough during the day, but at night it became near impossible. The faint light of the small oil lamps on either side of the rocking, swaying vehicle did nothing but cast odd, moving shadows. If one happened to go out…hell. Gabriel didn’t even want to consider that possibility, not when he held off a descent into the darkness of sweating, shaking, nightmares by the slenderest of threads.
Duke in Darkness: Wickedly Wed, Book 1 Page 13
