Duke in Darkness: Wickedly Wed, Book 1

by Davidson, Nicola

  Lilian bowed her head and stared at her hands, but not before a single tear trickled down her pale cheek. “No. I didn’t.”

  Now it just felt like someone had torn a hole in his chest and clawed his insides out. He should have known she wouldn’t choose him. She wasn’t Hobbs, or Aggie or Emily Castlereagh who had known him a long time and wouldn’t falter.

  Why the hell did this hurt so much?

  Because you are the worst of fools.

  A man who loves, but is not loved in return.

  Gabriel flexed his jaw in an effort to quell the pulling ache around his facial scar. On top of everything, he’d spoken too much. Lilian made a noise as though she would say something else, but he held up a hand and she instead sat silently and rigidly in the corner of the carriage. Despite the pale golden rays of late afternoon sunlight coming through the windows, a darkness had descended on the carriage, a heaviness that sat on his shoulders like a load of boulders. He’d just learned a harsh yet valuable lesson on how fleeting happiness could be, come and gone in a few days. But as he knew better than most, that was the way of the world. He needed to stop craving more. The only thing down that path was gut-wrenching disappointment.

  They didn’t speak for the rest of the journey home, nor when they entered the townhouse, or made their way upstairs.

  Until his wife reached the door of her bedchamber.

  “I have a terrible headache,” she whispered, her eyes huge shadowed pools. “I think perhaps a tray—”

  “Eat where…you wish, Lilian. Sleep where you wish. It matters not…to me,” he said coldly.

  Lilian closed her eyes briefly, then sank into a deep curtsy. “Your Grace.”

  She didn’t slam her door, yet it still sounded like a crack of thunder in the stillness of the candlelit hallway.

  Leaning heavily on his cane, Gabriel continued on to his own bedchamber, the space vast and quiet and bleak.

  Alone again.

  Chapter 19

  Never had she felt at such a loss.

  Rubbing her temples in an attempt to quell the headache threatening to unleash, Lilian gazed around the main townhouse parlor. It gleamed like a new penny—not a speck of dust could be seen, the floor had been thoroughly swept and mopped, the windows scrubbed, the furniture polished, and fireplaces cleaned out.

  And yet that achievement didn’t matter, not when her month-long marriage was failing right before her eyes.

  She’d lain awake all night alone in her bed, unable to get warm. The sense of isolation had been unbearable, and her mind had wanted to torment her repeatedly with memories of the wretched musicale, and the tense, awful aftermath in the carriage when Gabriel had quite rightly taken her to task for it.

  Everything he said had been true, and her excuses so flimsy. Instead of taking a stand as Lili Exton, of making it clear that as a married woman her first loyalty was to her husband and she would not permit a word of slander about his army service, or receive anyone who spoke such slander, she had reverted to being little Lilian Nash.

  Grandmother only had the clout that others gave her. And if a duchess, a blasted duchess continued to behave as an inferior, nothing would ever change and the wedge that had been driven between her and her husband would only grow wider and deeper.

  “You look like a woman in desperate need of some fresh air.”

  Startled, Lilian’s head jerked to the doorway to see an entirely unexpected visitor: the plump and pretty Emily Castlereagh. Someone who actually knew how to be a loyal and devoted wife.

  “My lady! I…er…”

  “Do forgive the intrusion. Norris did instruct me to wait while he located you, but because I am shockingly inquisitive, I decided to poke my nose in for a peek at the furnishings. And here you are. That will teach me. Robert will roll his eyes and say ‘I told you so’ when I share the story later.”

  “Can I assist you with something?” said Lilian, both confused and bemused at having such an illustrious guest arrive unannounced, and be so warm and friendly after the debacle in her home.

  “Yes, you can. But it is surprisingly pleasant outside, and as I said, you look in need of fresh air. I recognize the expression, as I tend to look the same when I have been trapped inside a ship cabin or carriage for too long. I do so love to visit foreign places, but the act of travelling is rather tiresome. Shall we stroll?”

  Soon the two ladies were crossing the paved footpath toward the large green expanse at the center of Grosvenor Square, and Lilian tilted her head back so the warm rays of the afternoon sun might reach under her bonnet. “You are quite right. I did need this.”

  Lady Castlereagh hesitated. “Tell me to go to the devil if you wish, but…is all well between you and Exton? I know we are little more than acquaintances right now, but his late mother was such a dear friend of mine, and I feel a maternal fondness toward him, and by extension, you.”

  Lilian sighed and clasped her hands together. “I take it you heard about the musicale.”

  “Yes,” said the older woman bluntly. “Sir Roger is a walking, talking scandal sheet, and he considered the handshake a triumph for his opinion. Oh, my dear, I hope you won’t be offended, but what your grandmother did was wrong. Perhaps Lady Kingsford had good intentions, but no man should be cornered into making friends with his slanderer. Least of all a man who gave so much and suffered so terribly for his country.”

  “I know. And…I-I don’t believe Grandmother had good intentions. I’m ashamed of myself for the part I played. Instead of halting the nonsense, I asked him to shake Sir Roger’s hand for me. And he did.”

  Lady Castlereagh patted her arm as they paused near some emerald-green shrubbery. “Because he cares. And I suspect you care also. Very much.”

  “I do,” she whispered achingly. “Gabriel…Exton, that is, is a husband I dared not hope for. He treats me as an equal. Is exceedingly generous. Patiently answers my questions, and, er, teaches me things I did not know before. Very nice things.”

  The viscountess burst out laughing, making the short curls around her face bounce. “I am delighted and relieved to hear it. Harmony in the marital chamber is the cornerstone of a strong union, in my humble opinion.”

  “You and his lordship always seem so happy together. It is something to aspire to.”

  “Don’t think for a moment that comes easily,” replied Lady Castlereagh, her amused expression turning serious. “We both have our quirks and foibles. I am politely called eccentric, he can be as gruff as an old bear. And when you are in power and forever in the public eye, there are many who wish you ill. It is only through practice that I became adept at walking through the bramble bushes and quicksand of society while keeping a smile on my face.”

  Lilian’s jaw dropped at the frankness of the words. “But how do you do it? I don’t…I don’t think I can. And Exton is so very, ah, troubled by his time in France. I worry that someone else like that blasted Sir Roger could provoke him. And I worry that again I could do or say the wrong thing and hurt him.”

  “Well, Your Grace—”

  “Please, do call me Lilian,” she said impulsively, and the older woman smiled.

  “Very well, Lilian. Then I am Emily. And I shall give you this piece of advice before I shamelessly implore you for a favor. Even strong, eminently competent and intelligent men have their dark and difficult times, and that is when we must be at our most fierce and steadfast. Robert knows he has my unquestioning support and affection, and that is how he continues on when faced with grave challenges. I am aware of this because he told me so. Does Exton know you love him? Showing it is well and good, but sometimes the words must be plainly said.”

  Lilian nodded slowly. When stated like that, it seemed so simple. Perhaps it actually was. “I think you might be the wisest woman in London.”

  Emily snorted. “Ha! Not really. Just a woman who had the wit to say yes when a blunt-talking Irish politician came calling. Because of him I have known great joy, and I wish the same for you
and Exton.”

  “I wish it also,” Lilian said fervently. “Because I truly love him. He will hold my heart forever, for so many reasons. I just hope it isn’t too late.”

  “Then you know what you must do. Now, let me tell of the hospital that I am raising funds for. I need another high-ranking lady on the committee, and have decided you would be quite perfect…”

  Lilian nodded and smiled as they continued to stroll, but her stomach churned with nerves and anticipation.

  She would have to humble herself completely to make amends and repair her marriage. There was a strong chance he might still reject her.

  And yet for her beloved colonel duke, she could do nothing less.

  * * *

  Gabriel nodded his thanks to the footmen as they emptied the last buckets of steaming hot water into the overlarge copper tub, bowed, and departed the bedchamber.

  Hopefully the bath, placed at his request in front of the fireplace, would warm him up. Or at least the parts of him around the damned block of ice in his chest. And perhaps help him sleep. God knew he hadn’t enjoyed any sleep the previous night. Never had his bed seemed so empty and cold and uncomfortable, and even downing several bottles of brandy had left him aggravatingly clear-headed. Only forty feet or so physically separated him and Lilian right now. Yet the distance between them seemed more like ten thousand miles, and each hour that distance grew because she wanted to be Lady Kingsford’s granddaughter so much more than his wife.

  After collapsing into his armchair, Gabriel removed his shoes and stockings, then he stood again to take off his jacket. Just as he was attending to his cravat and unwinding the length of linen from his throat, a tentative knock sounded at the connecting door between his and Lilian’s chamber.

  His heart began to pound. “Enter.”

  Lilian walked a few steps into the room, and paused. Curtsied deeply. “G-good evening, Gabriel. May I speak with you? Oh…I didn’t realize you were about to bathe.”

  He swallowed hard. She looked pale, yet stoic. Unspeakably beautiful with her golden hair unbound, and her lush curves barely constrained by a pretty linen nightgown with a scooped neck and a blue bow. “Is that new?”

  “Yes,” she said, glancing down and blushing. “One of Daisy’s creations. I’ve bundled up all my old nightgowns to be distributed to those in need. Actually…I’ve bundled up all my old clothing. It’s not appropriate. For Lilian Exton.”

  “I see.”

  Lilian lifted her chin, clasped her hands in front of her, and moved a few steps closer. “I don’t…I don’t expect you to forgive me for my appalling behavior at the musicale. I mean, I would like that very much, but I don’t expect it. Because I let you down completely. You bravely trusted me with the story of Bayonne, and I betrayed that trust when I implored you to shake that vile man’s hand. It was wrong of me, and…and I’m so very sorry.”

  Gabriel stood frozen, having lost the ability to move or speak at Lilian’s sweetly sincere apology. As though she truly regretted her actions. As though she cared.

  Say something, you fool!

  “Your grandmother manipulates you,” he rasped at last.

  “I know,” Lilian replied, her voice gaining strength. “Me, my siblings, my father, and everyone else she meets, too. She enjoys seeing the world dance to her tune and particularly hates to be contradicted. It is a habit of mine to obey her and keep the peace. A bad habit that I will conquer. Because it is not her nods or smiles I want any longer. It is yours.”

  “Mine?” he said gruffly, tossing his discarded cravat onto the floor, just for something to do. His chest felt so damned tight he could scarcely breathe. “My smile is broken.”

  “I shall respectfully disagree. It is most dashing.”

  “When I look in the mirror…all I see is ugliness. Failure.”

  Christ. Had he really just said those words, torn from a place deep inside him, and presented as blunt and raw as you like?

  “I wish you saw yourself as I see you,” Lilian said softly. “Attractive and strong.”

  Gabriel snorted. “I am neither. Not anymore. Just a mess of scars. Wretched.”

  “The loveliest thick hair and dark eyes.”

  “A limp,” he said, scowling.

  She put her hands on her hips. “Deliciously tall and broad-shouldered.”

  “A drunk.”

  “Eminently beddable.”

  “You need spectacles. Ah, no. Wait. You’ve never seen me shirtless. This will clarify your thinking.”

  Gabriel swiftly unfastened the single button at the throat of his fine linen shirt, and yanked the garment over his head. Now she would see the truth, for apart from his foot, his chest and back had suffered most at the hands of the French. Small, neat dagger cuts. Slashes from sabers and swords. Jagged, ridged scars where they had chained and beaten him. And small, circular ones from extinguished cigars and cheroots.

  Lilian sucked in a whimpering breath, and he waited for it to turn into a scream. Or a swoon. For her to run. But instead she moved forward, until she stood barely two feet away from him.

  “Thank you. My thinking is indeed clarified. You are even braver and more heroic than I knew. Much stronger. And so magnificent. When I dreamed of a husband, never did I think I would be so fortunate to have one such as you. A man I could happily spend the rest of my life with, and love with my whole heart.”

  He stared at her, slack-jawed. “What?”

  “I love you,” she whispered. Then louder: “I love you. Every part, including the scars. There is no need to hide them from me, for they represent your resilience. Your courage. Your service. And that is so very appealing.”

  Obviously he had inhaled too much balm and was hallucinating. Surely his wife hadn’t just said she loved him. Or that she found him appealing. “I’m not sure I believe that.”

  “Would you like me to show you? Tell me how, and I will.”

  Gabriel stared at her, torn between hope and distrust. Her words had been beautiful. But he needed more. A demonstration of her love, her acceptance of his wretched body. Every inch of it. “Bathe me, then. See every scar in all its glory.”

  “Very well.”

  Ruthlessly, he tore the buttons at the waistband of his trousers, and pushed them down, holding onto the armchair so he didn’t lose his balance as he peeled them off. And for the first time, he stood fully naked in front of his wife. “There.”

  Lilian bit her lip as her gaze flew from one scar to the next, but she didn’t flinch or cry or scream. Then her eyes met his again, and she said simply, “Where should I bathe you first?”

  “You could wash my back,” he said slowly, as he stepped into the large copper tub and sat down, sighing as the thankfully still-hot water enveloped him in a warm embrace.

  “Of course. If you don’t like it at any time, just tell me to stop and I will. This…we don’t have a pocket watch attached. However long it takes. Whatever it takes. Because my love is here to stay.”

  Emotion surged through him at the soft declaration, so powerful his hands shook and his eyes burned. To hope for love was one thing. To hear it spoken, to see the truth in her eyes, to witness it in her compassion, her gentleness, her sweet submission…

  Barely able to get the words out, he said hoarsely, “Soap and washcloth…is over there.”

  Nodding, Lilian knelt beside the tub. After lathering the washcloth, she tentatively trailed the cloth over his neck and shoulders, before moving it down his scarred back and lightly scrubbing. “How is that?”

  “Just fine.” How could a simple touch feel so good?

  “Is there anywhere else you want me to bathe you?”

  He met her gaze, caught her wrist in his hand, and pushed it onto his equally scarred chest. A single tear trickled down her cheek, but she quickly wiped it away, and with the same tender care, washed his front.

  “Good. Very good, Lili,” he said gruffly. “Now, lower. And be thorough.”

  Her lips curved as she dragge
d the washcloth back and forth across his abdomen, before delving down further and swirling it around his rapidly hardening cock. Teasing. Tormenting.

  “There,” she said at last, her cheeks flushed pink. “Nice and clean. Now, let me help you stand, and I’ll get you dried off.”

  Climbing out of the copper tub would always be awkward because of his size, and his foot, but he eventually stood and allowed the excess water to run down the length of his body, as his cock rose up from its nest of coarse black hair. “Towel is over there. Unless of course…you plan to use your tongue.”

  Lilian inhaled shakily, and he smiled at the sight of her taut nipples pressing against the bodice of her nightgown. At least he wasn’t the only one about to lose his mind through sheer lust. After fetching the cream-colored towel she returned to stand behind him, and his breath hissed between his teeth as she dabbed the mildly coarse fabric across his skin.

  He braced for an avalanche of memories, to be yanked back to his French prison. Yet he couldn’t hear those voices. Couldn’t see himself trapped in that hell being tortured. All he could feel was the towel as she paid special attention to his backside and inner thighs, and the sweet ache of his currently neglected and hugely engorged cock. Finally, finally she moved around to his front, and his fists clenched in an attempt at control as she dried his shoulders, arms and chest, then crouched to attend to his legs.

  “Done,” she said huskily. “Sir.”

  “I think not,” he replied sternly, as his still-wet cock bobbed against his stomach. “You missed a section.”

  Her eyes widened. “Did I? Oh dear. For such a shameful dereliction of duty, what is the punishment for a wayward lady corporal?”

  Gabriel licked his lips. “Get undressed.”

  * * *