UNCOMMON DUKE, AN

by BENSON, LAURIE

  * * *

  As they walked out onto the pavement, Gabriel had to squint to adjust to the bright sunlight. After last night’s discussion with Andrew, he was curious about this artist Olivia had taken an interest in. Luckily it did not take James long to find where the man’s studio was located.

  ‘Where is your carriage?’ he asked, scanning the busy road.

  ‘Colette and I walked. One of the wheels of my carriage required some work this morning and I saw no reason to wait on such a lovely day.’

  ‘My carriage is always at your disposal should there be a need.’

  He took her by the elbow and steered her around some young boisterous bucks. The moment they passed them, she shifted her arm out from his grasp.

  ‘Where are you planning on hanging the portrait?’ he asked, clasping his hands behind his back and redirecting his thoughts away from the idea that she could not bear for him to touch her.

  ‘We hope to have Mr West agree to exhibit it at the Royal Academy.’

  Gabriel froze and Colette almost collided with his back. He could not have possibly heard her correctly. That portrait of his wife—looking as though she had just been thoroughly and completely satisfied—was to be on display for all of London to see? Like hell it was!

  ‘No,’ he stated firmly and resumed walking. At least that was taken care of.

  Olivia caught up to him and did her best to keep pace with his long strides. ‘What did you say?’ she asked.

  He glanced down at her. She was not pleased.

  ‘I said no. That portrait is not leaving our house.’

  ‘The decision is not yours to make. I did not commission it. I am sitting for him as a favour.’

  Again Gabriel stopped abruptly, and again Colette pulled herself back from knocking into him.

  He must have misunderstood. ‘Pardon me?’

  ‘I said that portrait is being painted with the intention for exhibition to show the breadth of his skills as an artist.’

  ‘And you agreed to be his model? Why would you agree to such a thing? That portrait is indecent.’

  She snorted. His refined wife actually snorted at his statement. ‘You are one to say what is indecent?’

  They were turning onto Bond Street, bustling with servants and members of the ton. He was aware they were garnering attention simply by walking together. The last thing he needed was gossip about this argument—and this was going to be an argument. She was much too stubborn for it not to be.

  He directed his attention ahead of him. ‘We will discuss this at home.’

  ‘I’m not going home.’

  ‘Yes, you are. We are going home to finish this discussion.’

  ‘Then I suggest we finish it now because I. Am. Not. Going. Home.’

  His nostrils flared when he looked down at her. ‘When did you become so defiant?’

  ‘When you showed your true colours,’ she replied with clipped movements.

  She didn’t know him at all. If she believed he was going to allow that portrait to hang in the Royal Academy, or anywhere else outside one of their homes for that matter, she was sorely mistaken. ‘Very well, you want to discuss this now, we will.’

  Guiding her by the elbow, they walked past Gentleman Jackson’s Boxing Salon and into William Gray’s Jewellery Shop. The moment the bespectacled proprietor spotted the impeccably dressed couple, he came hurrying over.

  ‘Leave us,’ Gabriel commanded.

  The mouse-faced little man retreated behind the curtain to the back of the store.

  Next he turned his attention to her maid. ‘You are to wait outside.’

  It was of no surprise that Colette glanced at Olivia for her approval before she walked out the door. He was surrounded by women who seemed to have forgotten he was the Duke of Winterbourne.

  Now he would settle this matter with Olivia once and for all. He tugged her into a corner of the shop away from the windows overlooking the street. ‘You are the Duchess of Winterbourne, a respected member of the ton and my wife. You cannot display yourself for all of London in such a fashion.’

  ‘No one will know it is me.’ Her voice was low but strong.

  ‘I will know.’ He kept his voice down as well, but it wasn’t easy.

  When he had walked in on the roguishly dressed man standing over his reclining wife and touching her, Gabriel wanted to carve out the man’s bollocks with a butter knife. ‘You are not to go back there.’ There! Now there would be no question where the painting would be hung since it would not be finished.

  ‘You are mad and have lost all sense of reason,’ she whispered sharply.

  He wasn’t foolish enough to deny what this was. He was feeling proprietary over a woman he hadn’t taken to bed in years. And maybe he was just a little bit mad. ‘No one should see you that way. I am the only one who should see you that way,’ he bit out.

  Yes, mad. He was definitely mad.

  ‘But you don’t. You cannot even bear to take me to bed.’

  ‘Now who is mad?’

  She fisted her hands at her sides and leaned closer so their foreheads were almost touching. ‘It’s true. So what if he thinks his study of movement and light is also a testament to female sensuality? So what if he believes I am striking? You do not.’

  Now, she definitely was the one who was mad. He grabbed her by the back of her neck and crushed his lips against hers in a claiming kiss.

  * * *

  Olivia intended to push him away, but she had forgotten the feel of the curve of the muscles in his arms. A slow glide of his tongue against her closed lips had her weakening. And when he pressed his body into hers, all rational thought left her brain and her body took over.

  She had missed him—missed the time they’d spent together early in their marriage.

  Reluctantly she slid her hands over his shoulders and threaded her fingers through his thick hair. It was shorter now than it had been years ago. She deepened the kiss.

  He groaned low into her mouth and slid his hands over the curve of her bottom. And then, just as quickly as it began, he let her go.

  ‘Let that put to rest your false assumption,’ he said, breathing deeply. He stepped away from her, spun on his heels and stormed out the door.

  Olivia peered at him through the large shop window as he walked down Bond Street as if he owned the world. She rested her hand on the display case beside her, trying to steady her wobbly legs.

  What had just happened? One minute he was being the most insufferable man and the next he was kissing her senseless.

  And she’d kissed him back.

  She pressed her hand against her forehead, silently berating herself for her foolishness. It must have been her discussion about sensuality with Manning that had caused her to give in to his unusual behaviour. It definitely was not the taste and feel of her husband. Those feelings of wanting him were long dead.

  Weren’t they?

  Chapter Six

  That evening, Gabriel sat at his desk and reread Andrew’s letter. It was just three lines, informing him they had no new information at this time. At least that was what Gabriel thought the letter said. He would have to reread it yet again since his mind was preoccupied with reliving a kiss—a kiss with his wife of all people. And he could not stop smiling.

  What the hell was wrong with him?

  He should not be smiling. He should be furious that she would even consider having that painting hung in the Royal Academy. But instead of being blindingly angry, he was smiling simply because for the first time in ages he’d kissed his wife—and she’d kissed him back.

  He was mad!

  There was something about Olivia that always stirred such strong desire in him. It might be that she was beautiful, but many women were and he had no interest in
bedding any of them. It was something else—some irresistible combination of beauty and a sharp mind. But for a man with secrets, her cleverness was more of a curse than a blessing. It was best he remember that.

  Gabriel pressed his thumb against the bridge of his nose. He needed to reconfirm his priorities. Someone had threatened Prinny. His duty was to find out who it was and to prevent them from making another attempt on the man’s life. The weight of keeping Prinny safe and the safety of his people were heavy on his shoulders. He refused to allow anyone else to be killed on his watch. The last thing he should be thinking about was the taste of his wife’s lips and the feel of her bottom as he held her against him.

  At least there had been one benefit to her sitting for Manning. Their subsequent argument had led to that kiss—the kiss that he’d initiated and she’d participated in.

  Gabriel closed his eyes. The taste of her lips had opened a floodgate of memories of what it felt like to be inside her. It had been so long since he’d had a woman—since he’d had Olivia. His thoughts drifted to one of his favourite memories, which included a warm bath and firelight. All of his attention now was firmly fixed on the image in his head. The letter in his hands fell to his desk.

  * * *

  Olivia was enjoying a ‘ladies’ dinner’, as her hostess liked to call them. Periodically Katrina, the Duchess of Lyonsdale, would invite a few female friends to dine at her home in London while her husband would make himself scarce for the evening. This evening she’d invited Olivia, Victoria and Sarah Forrester, the daughter of the American Minister. Olivia found she looked forward to these ladies-only dinner parties where the conversations were often boisterous and they did not have to wait for the men to finish their port after the meal was over.

  Tonight, Olivia stood next to her sister, staring up at the enormous portrait of Katrina, which hung above the fireplace in the library of Lyonsdale House. In the painting, Katrina sat in an elegant bergère chair with a book dangling gracefully from her long fingers and staring directly at the viewer. Manning had perfectly captured the hint of amusement that often crossed her face, and he had done a spectacular job with the shining folds of her ice-blue silk gown. Off to the side of Katrina’s chair, an old globe sat on a small table, a silent nod to the fact the Duchess of Lyonsdale came from the United States.

  ‘It arrived this morning,’ Katrina said, looking up at the portrait. ‘I did not anticipate it being so grand.’

  The serious expression on Katrina’s face while she studied the painting made Olivia smile. ‘You are an English Duchess now. It should be grand to reflect your station.’

  ‘I know, but it’s just so...so...’

  ‘Enormous,’ Sarah added helpfully, placing her fingertips over her lips to stop from laughing. ‘You’re fortunate there was enough room to hold a life-size portrait of you.’

  ‘Sarah, I’ve only just begun carrying this child.’

  ‘I was simply referring to the size of the wall, not your size. Even you admitted it’s rather large. It’s as if there are two of you,’ Sarah continued, looking between the portrait and Katrina. ‘Although it is a beautiful likeness of you, I think I’m relieved I will not be immortalised as such.’

  ‘I’m relieved as well,’ came the voice of the Earl of Hartwick as he swaggered into the room alongside Lyonsdale and tossed a lock of his shiny black hair out of his eyes. ‘One of you is more than sufficient in this world,’ he drawled.

  He was sinfully handsome, with a strong athletic build and the finest blue eyes God had ever placed in a man. Olivia had heard his name spoken quite often by women of her age. Delicious and virile were words that were frequently used in those conversations.

  ‘It truly does amaze me that the women of this town find you so alluring, Hartwick,’ Sarah said. ‘I believe it will remain one of life’s mysteries.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s because you are rarely in my company.’

  ‘No, I am certain familiarity would not clear the reasoning.’

  Lyonsdale came to stand beside his wife and kissed her hand. Witnessing the love they shared always filled Olivia with regret—regret that she had not found a man who loved her even just a little.

  ‘We are off to White’s,’ Lyonsdale said, looking up at the painting. ‘However, I wanted to show Hart your portrait.’ The pride was evident in his voice. ‘I told you that gown was the best choice.’

  ‘You said you wanted me to wear the gown I was wearing the night we met. Fortunately for you, it is one of my favourites.’

  ‘I envisioned you in it for so long, it will always be my favourite.’

  Sarah and Hartwick rolled their eyes in unison while standing next to each other. Then the Earl walked closer to the portrait and took in the work with his hands fixed on his hips. He tilted his head a number of times before turning around and nodding to Katrina.

  ‘He is right,’ Hartwick said. ‘The artist has captured you perfectly. Now be a good duchess and bear a child that looks more like you than it does my friend.’

  Olivia thought the child would do well resembling either parent and wondered if she would ever conceive another. Gabriel’s kiss today confused her. Instinctively her hand went to her stomach.

  ‘You looked a bit pale, Sister. Some fresh air might do you wonders,’ Victoria said, taking Olivia’s arm. ‘Would you mind if we went outside for just a bit?’ she asked Katrina.

  ‘By all means, there is a door to the terrace just down the hall,’ Katrina replied with a sympathetic smile. ‘We shall be returning to the Crimson Drawing Room shortly. Why don’t you take your time and meet us there.’

  Victoria guided Olivia into the portrait gallery outside the library and Olivia pulled her to a stop. ‘What are you about?’ Olivia demanded quietly. ‘Now Katrina will think I couldn’t bear to witness the affection she shares with Lyonsdale and you were trying to spare me the pain.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Victoria said, tugging Olivia to begin walking. She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘I have wanted to get you alone and couldn’t wait another minute. How is it that I hear of surprising actions of yours from Lyonsdale’s grandmother and not from you, my own sister? Don’t look at me like that. You had to know there would be talk of your unusual stroll down Bond Street with Winter. She mentioned it before we went in for dinner.’

  Olivia’s stomach dipped uncomfortably, recalling the last time she and Gabriel were the topic of ton gossip. ‘If that mundane fact has people talking, they aren’t paying close enough attention to the scandals around them. I cannot believe a simple walk between a husband and wife is cause for discussion.’

  ‘When those two people act as polite strangers for years, I’d say that is cause for gossip. And how is it you did not see fit to tell me?’

  ‘I did not think it noteworthy.’

  Victoria looked about ready to stamp her foot on the parquet floor. ‘How could you say that? A few days ago you wanted your cook to roast him for the inconsiderate way he delayed Nicholas’s breeching. Now you are walking with him down a main thoroughfare and he is buying you jewels. Something is going on and I demand you tell me what it is.’

  ‘Jewels? He did not buy me any jewels.’ Olivia opened the door to the unoccupied terrace and stepped outside. The scent of rain was heavy in the air and thick clouds moved swiftly in the moonlight. ‘I was sitting for Manning in his studio when Gabriel arrived quite unexpectedly. He said he was attending to matters close by and decided to accompany me home.’

  ‘Why would he care to escort you home? You barely speak with one another.’

  Olivia shrugged and rolled her eyes. ‘The man is a mystery and always has been. As to be expected, on our way home we had a disagreement. The only reason he dragged me into a jewellery shop was so people would not witness our row.’

  Victoria’s eyes narrowed. ‘Nevertheless people did witness you together
and are speculating on a reconciliation.’

  ‘That is absurd. You of all people should understand our marriage could never go back to being what I thought it was, not after what he did.’

  ‘Well, something has changed and I believe you have some notion what has altered his behaviour.’

  Olivia rubbed her forehead. Victoria had always been her deepest confidant. Hopefully she would not make her feel worse. She took a deep breath and let the words spill out. ‘I told him I wanted another child.’

  Victoria’s eyes widened considerably.

  ‘But, he has rejected me,’ Olivia amended. ‘At least I think he rejected me...please do not tell Mother. I could not bear to hear her prattle on about how relieved she is that I’ve cast aside my pride and started comporting myself like the Duchess I am. I believe my estrangement from him has been a cause of embarrassment for her.’

  ‘I will not say a word to her—however, how could you not know if you were rejected? I would think it would be fairly obvious.’

  ‘Well, I thought he had rejected me. We did not...that is to say he could not...’

  ‘When did this happen?’

  ‘A few nights past. Oh, it was so humiliating. I cannot believe I even considered it, but now I am so confused.’

  Her sister placed a comforting hand over Olivia’s. ‘Like all men, he is a selfish beast who has no notion of how fortunate he is to have a lovely wife. What is confusing about that? We’ve known that for years.’

  ‘He kissed me today. Do not groan.’ Olivia closed her eyes and dropped her forehead into her palms, not wishing to see Victoria’s next reaction. ‘And what is worse, I kissed him back.’ She was such a fool.

  ‘Oh, no, Olivia, you didn’t,’ moaned Victoria. ‘What in the world possessed you to do such a thing? You know he cares nothing for you. How could you be so foolish?’