The Duke and the Lady

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The Duke and the Lady Page 11

by Clever, Jessie


  She plastered on the smile she had grown so good at displaying and laughed a soft, trilling laugh. “Oh, Jo, I would never have pegged you for the romantic. You really mustn’t fret so. I assure you it was no hardship marrying Sebastian.” She gave her sister a wink she did not feel.

  Jo laughed, the sound like a blast of relief, and finally her brow cleared of worry.

  Louisa stood, pulling her sister up with her. “I do hope you’ll talk to me before you let yourself be carried away by such nonsense,” she said as she led her sister to the door. “Now, where is Viv making you go tonight?”

  Jo wrinkled her nose. “It’s a dinner party Viscountess Mayfield is throwing. I’m afraid I’ll be seated by that dreadful baron again. The one from the Lake District.”

  Louisa felt a twist of pain for her sister, followed by the immediate relief that she need no longer engage in such nonsense. Perhaps Sebastian wasn’t entirely wrong about society, a thought which left her concerned for her own well-being if she were suddenly agreeing with her husband.

  She gave Jo a short hug. “It will be wonderful. Perhaps you’ll meet your own match tonight.”

  Jo’s smile, which had only so recently returned, suddenly dipped, and her expression grew pensive.

  “Whatever is it now?” Louisa asked, emotions roiling within her. She really couldn’t take much more of this.

  Jo met her gaze, her shoulders rolling back as if she were facing a difficult responsibility. “That’s just it, Louisa. I felt so guilty about what you did for me, because, well, because it doesn’t matter about my future prospects. I shan’t find a match this season or any other season.”

  The air itself stilled in Louisa’s lungs as she tried to absorb what her sister was saying.

  “You can’t be serious.” Jo was rather bold and had no issue stating her mind, but she was kind and caring and she could make anyone laugh. Of course, she would find her match.

  But Jo was already shaking her head. “You don’t understand. You didn’t need to marry Waverly because I’ll never accept a proposal. My heart already belongs to someone I can never have.”

  A hundred questions flooded Louisa’s mind all at once, but she could only blink at her sister as she tried to will her mouth to form even one of the things she wished to ask. Johanna loved someone she couldn’t have? For how long? And why? And most importantly, who?

  But she could ask none of those questions for just at that moment, Sebastian came through the drawing room doors, his pace brisk and efficient as if he had an urgent matter to discuss with her.

  Louisa never moved her eyes from her sister as Jo turned and nodded in greeting.

  “Waverly,” she said.

  “Lady Johanna, I must insist you address me as Sebastian. All of these titles seem unnecessary in the present situation.”

  Jo gave another nod. “Then you must call me Jo.” She reached out and squeezed Louisa’s arm, but still Louisa could not move. “I’ll see you tomorrow, dear sister,” she said and left before Louisa could find her tongue.

  She watched her sister go, and Sebastian must have mistaken her attention on the door for her readiness to receive whatever matter he wished to discuss for he stepped beside her and said, “You’ll need to get ready for dinner. My mother has sent us an invitation.”

  * * *

  He had less than no desire to dine with his mother, but it would be unacceptable for him to decline an invitation as a newlywed, as it would be an advantageous opportunity to introduce his wife and new duchess to society through a dinner party at his mother’s, the dowager duchess at one time and now the Viscountess Raynham. He would not refuse such an invitation, and he knew his mother likely understood that.

  So it was that he found himself tugging at his cuffs as he made his way to the foyer that evening, anticipating finding his wife and instead discovering the vestibule completely empty. He went so far as to check his pocket watch, thinking he may have the time wrong, but a sound further down the corridor drew his attention. He replaced his pocket watch as he moved through the house.

  He discovered his wife in the drawing room where he’d found her earlier, and he stopped in the doorway when he realized she hadn’t heard him approach. She was dressed for the night in an emerald silk gown that was warm against her pale skin and set off the golden tones of her hair as if she herself were a jewel. He swallowed, the breath catching in his throat as he watched her. She’d removed one long glove and with her free hand, traced the design of a fabric swatch he could see had been discarded on the arm of a sofa. He moved his gaze between her wandering fingers and her intent gaze, wondering what it was that preoccupied her mind.

  For she wasn’t studying the fabric. Her vacant eyes suggested she was somewhere else, perhaps mulling over a problem she couldn’t quite solve.

  Maybe he was the problem.

  He took an involuntary step back as he recalled what Dax had told him. Louisa fixes things, and she would fix him now. He was both thrilled and terrified at the notion that she would try to make him happy, to make him love her. He hadn’t considered either emotion in so long, he wasn’t even certain what either would look like for him.

  Could he love Louisa without making the same mistakes his father had?

  He shouldn’t even be contemplating such a suggestion. He had already told Louisa how their marriage would be, and for the past several weeks, they had lived a peaceful existence.

  Who the hell was he fooling?

  The past several weeks had been torture for him. Everywhere he went through his house the smell of orchids taunted him. He was sure he’d find her around every corner, and when she failed to materialize, he was left wondering why he felt so bereft. He knew this couldn’t go on forever, and he feared what the resolution might be.

  What if he just let Louisa…fix him?

  The very thought sent a rush of emotion through him that felt suspiciously like relief. It was an effort to avoid attachment, to keep oneself from forming relationships. What if he just let it all go and loved his wife?

  He cleared his throat loudly and stepped briskly into the room to stop his wayward thoughts. She just looked pretty tonight. That was all. He shouldn’t let it go to his head.

  She looked up from where she’d been studying the fabric swatch, and it was some seconds before her eyes focused on him. She gave a soft smile as he approached.

  “Is it time to leave already? I’m terribly sorry. I’m just a touch distracted, I guess.”

  He stopped several feet away from her, afraid to draw any closer.

  He wanted to kiss her.

  It wasn’t that he was suddenly overcome with passion. It was quieter than that. Almost as if he would come down to find her every night, dressed so exquisitely, quietly awaiting his arrival before they left for their nightly social obligations. Almost as if he could get used to this, used to her, and every night she would tilt her cheek up for his kiss.

  Except she didn’t do that. Roughly, she tugged on her glove as she walked past him for the door. It took him a moment to realize she’d simply walked away, and she was already receiving her wrap from Milton, the butler.

  She adjusted her gloves along the line of her wrap as she asked, “Did your mother invite many people this evening or is this more of a private affair?”

  He stopped in front of her, considering her question. When he didn’t answer, she looked up and after a moment studying his face said, “Oh, you didn’t think to ask. Quite all right. It needn’t matter anyway, I guess. I don’t like your mother with lots of people around. Why should I like her if there aren’t any around?”

  He laughed.

  He wasn’t sure who was more surprised. Louisa, himself, or Milton.

  Louisa had been halfway out the door, and she turned back at the sound, her look curious if not a touch concerned. Milton, the good man, stepped to the side and busied himself with rearranging the gloves in the front hall.

  “I insulted your mother. Did you just laugh at that?�


  He gave a shrug. “I already told you. It’s not as if I chose her as my mother. Who am I to care if you should malign her unpleasant demeanor?”

  Her brow furrowed, but she said nothing more. She was distracted again once in the carriage, and the short ride to his mother’s home was marked by the clatter of the carriage wheels rolling along the rutted cobblestones. Not able to take the silence from her, he leaned forward.

  “Whatever has you preoccupied?”

  She started at his question.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just…well…” Her voice trailed off as she finally turned her attention from the window to meet his gaze. “Do you sincerely care about this?”

  The question stung, although it shouldn’t have. He had made known his position on what he expected from their relationship. Namely, that there not be one.

  “Yes.” He spoke the word softly, carefully, as if he might startle her.

  She considered his response before saying, “Johanna said something odd today is all, and it has me perplexed.”

  “Is she well?”

  Louisa waved a hand at this. “Oh, she’s perfectly well. It’s just that—she told me a bit of a secret is all.” She stopped and worried her lower lip briefly. “Well, I assume it’s a secret. I don’t believe the other sisters know, and she’s certainly never told me.”

  “What kind of secret?”

  He didn’t want to be so bold as to suggest she tell him. He only worried that the younger Darby sister may be meddling in something she shouldn’t. He was beginning to learn all the Darby sisters were dangerously headstrong, and he was concerned for the young woman’s safety.

  His wife considered him again, and he realized she was deciding whether or not to tell him what the secret was and not simply what kind it was. A note of concern rippled through him. He had no desire to be entangled with the other Darby women. He could hardly handle the one he was married to. But before he could stop her, Louisa blurted out her sister’s secret.

  “She’s apparently in love with a man she can’t have.”

  God, he didn’t wish to be having this conversation.

  “Then she should get over it.”

  She frowned at his words. “That’s not really the point.”

  “Yes, it is. She’s just proven once again that love makes people do stupid things. Nothing more. Tell her to have sense and not ruin her life.”

  “Are you saying I should ruin my life if I were to fall in love with you?”

  He’d had a retort ready on his lips, but her question sucked the air from his lungs.

  “That’s not possible,” he finally said, finding the practical answer to be the safe one.

  She scoffed at his sensible response, however, and it left him nervous.

  “How can you say that? You cannot control who falls in love with you.”

  He gave her a sardonic smirk. “But I can control how I behave around others, and I am certainly the most disagreeable and rude gentleman of my acquaintance.”

  “That doesn’t preclude love.”

  “Why ever not? I am thoroughly unlikable.”

  “I find you remarkably likable.”

  It was as if the air itself had been sucked from the carriage. The very space between them vibrated with tension. His wife had the audacity to sit serenely on the bench opposite as he considered what she had just said.

  He was not at all likable. He had done his best to ensure he wasn’t, and yet, Louisa continued to move outside of all of the rules he had so carefully constructed around himself.

  “Then you are the exception.” It was his turn to stare out the window and avoid his wife’s gaze.

  “We thought Johanna wasn’t interested in finding a match,” Louisa went on, even when he did his best to ignore her. “But it wasn’t that at all. It turns out she’s already found him, and he’s not available to her.”

  “Then she should find a better one.”

  “That’s not how it works. You should know better than anyone you can’t control who you love.”

  Now he did bring his gaze back to hers. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  She raised a single brow. “It means exactly as I said. Aren’t you the very person who told me love is irrational? Wouldn’t it brook the argument that it is also uncontrollable?”

  He felt a trap and progressed warily. “It would stand to reason that such an argument could be made.”

  “So couldn’t it be said that you might fall in love without your permission?”

  He opened his mouth, but no words came out. She’d trapped him nicely, and oddly enough, he thrilled at her dexterity and ingenuity.

  He tugged on his cuffs. “I would never allow myself to do such a thing. It suggests a dangerous lack of control. Something I eradicated from my person some time ago.”

  He wasn’t sure if the carriage jostled them with a particularly strong bump at that moment, or if she had done it deliberately, but suddenly, her wrap slipped from one shoulder, baring an expanse of her décolletage to the moonlight that spilled through the carriage window.

  His eyes fastened on that expanse of clear, pale skin as if it were water and he was dying of thirst. The moonlight played across the fine bones of her collar, dappled her neck, and teased his eyes to her face where he found her giving him a sultry smirk.

  He adjusted his seat on the bench, hoping to relieve the sudden pressure in his trousers.

  “And what if you were unfairly…tempted?”

  Dear. God.

  What had he done?

  He’d not only stepped into danger, he’d invited it in, married it, vowed to cherish it for the rest of his life, and he was nothing if not a man of honor.

  “I cannot be tempted.” Perhaps if he said the words they would become the truth.

  Except he knew how futile that course was.

  He was more than prepared to take his wife right there in the carriage. If she but crooked a finger in his direction, he would fall to his knees in supplication. He was entirely hers to do with what she wished, and his only saving grace was that she didn’t yet realize it.

  But maybe she did.

  She leaned forward, elbows to knees, and the bodice of her gown loosened just the smallest degree, but it was enough to afford him a view of her magnificent breasts. He knew how tender they were, had caressed them with his hands and mouth, had tasted her skin—

  “Are you so certain?” Her voice had dropped, and the soft, coaxing tone had his eyes riveted to her mouth.

  He leaned forward, matching her position, until their faces were so close he could have kissed her. But he didn’t kiss her. He moved ever so slightly until his lips met her ear, and he whispered, “Yes.”

  He would thank God later that the carriage stopped in front of his mother’s house just then because he knew that should she test his resolve, she would uncover him for the fraud that he was.

  Chapter 9

  She was flushed by the time she entered the drawing room where the other guests were shown to wait for the start of dinner. Louisa counted eight other couples upon their entrance, not including the viscountess and her husband. The viscountess, in fact, was noticeably absent.

  She felt a modicum of relief at not facing the woman immediately. She was already feeling rather more vigorous than usual, and she feared her boldness would get her into further trouble that evening. She didn’t know why she had behaved so on the carriage ride, but after Jo’s startling revelation, Louisa was rather tired of the people in her life making decisions of which she knew little or nothing until their impact was felt on her.

  For why on earth had she teased Sebastian?

  Yes, she had felt a thrill of power when she saw her ministrations working, but it only served to drive her further into a frenzy. Her skin ached for his touch, her lips craved his kiss, and he had sat there with all the emotional response of an eel.

  And now she was forced to dine with his mother.

  Could this evening get any worse?


  She rued the thought as soon as the couple beside her turned, and she was faced with Jonathan Devlin. She took an involuntary step back, only to have Sebastian’s hand at the small of her back stop her. The touch sent a bolt of lightning through her as he had not touched her since their wedding day, and now was the absolutely worst time to remind her of how good it felt.

  She blinked, forcing away all of her roiling emotions to focus on the man who stood in front of her. It wasn’t Devlin at all. It was her own silly mind playing games on her. It was the earl himself, Westrick, and his countess, whom Louisa understood not to be Jonathan’s mother but rather the earl’s second wife. Louisa hated herself for being so jumpy and vowed to one day return the favor to that sniveling weasel.

  For now she nodded in acknowledgment to the earl and countess and moved deeper into the room with Sebastian directly behind her. The other couples Louisa knew only by name and the brief occasions where they had passed during social functions such as these.

  She felt the weight of the day and her responsibilities as the Duchess of Waverly suddenly press down on her shoulders. She didn’t wish to be here tonight. She wanted to run back to Ravenwood House and demand that Jo explain what she had meant. She wanted to be at home, nestled into bed, waiting for her husband to come to her.

  The last thought stabbed her directly in the chest for when had she come to think of Waverly House as home and why would she keep expecting Sebastian to come to her? He’d already made his position on their marriage perfectly clear.

  She knew she would need to face that soon. Throwing herself into a household renovation was only an excuse to avoid the subject she knew she must confront. Otherwise, her marriage loomed before her like an endless swirl of social obligations and polite but distant interactions with her husband.

  They had made it nearly to the other side of the room before Sebastian was accosted by the Earl of Bannerbridge. Louisa nodded politely to the earl’s wife who stood meekly behind him. The poor girl, she was likely half the age of the earl, and it appeared as though she were expecting a child.

 

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