Page 11 of Duke in Darkness

Lilian bit her lip, and for a moment looked like she might argue, then she squared her shoulders and instead turned to receive kisses on the cheek from her sisters.

It took forever, but finally, finally, they were in his carriage and returning to the ducal townhouse for the reception. Again, he could practically feel her curiosity, but she didn’t say a word, instead rubbing her wedding band with her thumb. He wanted to reassure her, pat her hand, kiss her, something. But white-hot pain stabbed through his foot and up his leg continuously now, and it took all his will to remain seated and not slide down and curl into a ball on the floor of the carriage. He’d stood for far too long. Succumbed to vanity, instead of balancing on his cane, or requesting a chair. And now he not only paid the price, but behaved like a boor toward his new wife. Damnation. All he needed was a few bottles of brandy, then some of Hobbs’s foul-scented balm to rub into his foot and leg, and he would be fine. Well, if they ever got home. Every carriage, cart, and phaeton in London had appeared on the streets, and they were moving at a pace snails would be ashamed of.

“It was a, um, lovely ceremony, don’t you think?” said Lilian so tentatively, he wanted to rage at the unfairness of it all. Why, for one bloody day, couldn’t his body behave? Just a little time where he wasn’t a shadow of his former self.

“Lovely,” he gritted out, as eye-watering agony clamped his foot in a vise-like grip.

“Archbishop Manners-Sutton is such a kind man.”

“He is.”

“Are…are you sure you are well?” Lilian sat forward, and before he could stop her, she touched his knee.

A part of him knew she meant the action with kindness, unthreatening and without intent to injure, but the clawing darkness descended, clouding his mind with memories, twisting together with the pain, and he roughly jerked away from her. “Yes. Don’t touch me.”

She shrank back, her cheeks scarlet, and Gabriel wanted to put his fist through a window. His body, he hated most days. But his mind was crueler, dictating rigid terms of engagement when it came to other people, even those he trusted implicitly. They must not stand too close, or touch any part of him other than his hands or arms, no matter how much he craved the warmth and comfort of a tender caress.

How long had it been since a woman embraced him? Stroked his hair? Massaged his shoulders? He couldn’t even remember. His beloved mother had died years ago, soon after he’d joined the army. And now he had a wife, a woman who seemed compassionate and gentle, and he’d recoiled from her as though she revolted him. Which couldn’t be further from the truth. He wanted her more than anything in the world.

Instead, he would have brandy and balm.

Absolutely no substitute whatsoever.

CHAPTER 3

“I just asked again, ma’am. Mr. Hobbs says His Grace is indisposed.”

Looking up from her seat beside the lavish bedchamber’s fireplace, Lilian smiled at the upstairs maid as though the news couldn’t be more unexceptional for a wife on her wedding night. “Oh dear. I hope the kitchens have sent broth, and perhaps some barley water to ease him.”

“Oh no, they’ve just been sending brandy. Lots and lots of brandy.”

Humiliation stiffened her shoulders. It was difficult and lonely enough being a new bride in a new house with new servants, but now the only person she knew other than her own lady’s maid Dawn, had abandoned her for the company of brandy bottles? “I see.”

“Will there be anything else, madam? It is late.”

At the maid’s insolent tone, Lilian glanced up sharply. Even though she’d only been here several hours, one thing had become abundantly clear: the servants, rather than Exton, ruled the roost. From what she’d observed, they were lazy, free with gossip, rude, and utterly disloyal to their employer. How matters had been allowed to get so out of hand, she had no idea. Even if they were still attached to the previous duke—and she could understand that, feeling the same way herself—life could be cruel. Young, healthy men died unexpectedly. Cousins inherited. And they would all have to adjust. Well, if her new husband didn’t discard her before the ink dried on the marriage papers. “I beg your pardon?”

The maid blinked owl eyes. “Er…”

“Let me make myself plain,” said Lilian, leaning forward in her chair. “I expect the very best of those employed under this roof, and value loyalty and hard work. I will not tolerate disrespect. Or gossip regarding His Grace.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” she said eventually, her lips twisted in the tiniest of sneers, and her curtsy perfunctory at best.

“Dismissed.”

After the maid hurried from the room, Lilian wrapped her arms about herself. Here she was, a married woman in a house three times the size of her father’s, surrounded by luxury and countless servants, and she’d never felt more alone. It cut especially deep that just when she had resolved to put her past love behind her and try to make the best of this marriage, Exton would reject her. Obviously he regretted the marriage, for he had been acting strangely from the moment the archbishop declared them man and wife. Despite saying he felt perfectly well first in the carriage and then during the reception as her family ate rich fruit cake and drank fine wine, he’d looked increasingly forbidding and left the parlor on several occasions. Of course, when quizzical eyes turned her way, she had merely smiled and murmured ‘important ducal business’ as a proper, loyal duchess did.

Ding Dong. Ding Dong.

The soft chimes from the wooden clock sitting on the carved oak mantelpiece startled her from her reverie, and she winced. Midnight. If Exton wished to come and claim his husbandly rights, he surely would have made an appearance by now. Good heavens, he confused her. How could he have near-devoured her with his gaze at her father’s townhouse and kissed her hand with such heated promise, then angrily recoil from a light touch when they were alone in the carriage? She didn’t think she’d done anything terribly wrong, especially after he’d been so kind during the ceremony. That comforting touch, when she’d been reeling after the talk with her grandmother and nervous about the wedding. At that moment, she’d thought perhaps an excellent husbandly choice had been made, and they might eventually build a marriage of more than polite strangers, one of real affection and friendship. Yet since then, he’d turned away, avoided her at the reception, and now didn’t want to bed her.

Lilian bit her lip and stared at the door connecting their chambers, willing it to open. Even the horrible, painful act of losing her virginity that Grandmother had described would be better than this clawing feeling of rejection. It wasn’t like she would sleep easily. The bedchamber was just so big, the furniture unfamiliar, and the sounds of the room all wrong. Unless everyone was lying to protect her sensibilities and Exton had departed to be with his mistress? Someone experienced and skilled, who knew how to bring a man great pleasure?

“No,” she said loudly, as though volume might make her believe it. Blast it, this was her wedding night. Time to find out where she stood.

Hurrying over to the connecting door, her nightgown and robe swirling around her ankles, Lilian halted, took a deep breath, and knocked. “Exton? May I come in?”

Unfortunately when the door partially opened, Hobbs stood there rather than her husband. “Good evening, Your Grace. I’m very sorry, but His Grace is indisposed. I hoped that message would have reached you.”