Page 12 of Duke in Darkness

Annoyance flared at the memory. “It did. But as a concerned wife, I wish to see the indisposition for myself.”

Hobbs looked away, the portrait of guilt. “I’m afraid that isn’t possible. He is, ah, sleeping.”

“On his wedding night?”

“Yes, madam,” he replied, his cheeks red, but remaining a boulder between her and Exton’s chamber.

“I believe you are lying to me. Did he…did he go to his mistress?”

“No! Ah, no, I swear.”

Lilian’s gaze narrowed. “Then why the secrecy? Why are you barring me from entering my husband’s bedchamber?”

“Because,” the valet’s shoulders slumped, “His Grace will be angry with me if you see him in his current state.”

Well. A little honesty at last.

“Hobbs,” she said, softening her tone. “I have nursed both my father and brother when they were unwell. Sickbeds do not alarm me. If Exton is feverish, taken a chill, or perhaps his stomach is troubling him, I can help.”

“I am sure, madam. I know His Grace has made the correct choice in spouse.”

On a different night she would have commended the loyalty of Exton’s valet, especially after the behavior of the other servants. But right now she wanted to spit fire. “Then why are you not moving?”

“I cannot,” he said, albeit with real sympathy in his gaze.

“The servants are talking,” she said abruptly. “About him. And about me. Do you know how it looks when a bride and groom do not spend their wedding night together? Do you think this is assisting my new position in this household?”

Hobbs hesitated. “No, Your Grace.”

“This townhouse is in a shameful state. The servants are running amok. But no one will listen if they sense division between myself and His Grace. Help me help him.”

The valet closed his eyes briefly, then stepped back and opened the door wide. “Very well, madam, but I must warn you…”

His words trailed off at Lilian’s indrawn gasp. Because two things were immediately clear: Exton lay fully-dressed and fast asleep on the oversized ducal bed, and the ridiculous gilt-laden and very un-Exton-like bedchamber absolutely reeked of brandy.

Turning back to Hobbs, she clenched her fists. “He is not ill but passed out drunk?”

“I suppose you could say—”

“Not could,” she retorted. “There is no could about it. This room smells like the inside of a decanter! And Exton started even before the ceremony, did he not?”

“Your Grace, please—”

“Not one more word. I shall retreat to my own bedchamber and see His Grace in the morning.”

And with that, Lilian turned and marched back through the door, closing it firmly behind her. Only then did she slide down onto the cool wooden floor and allow her tears to fall.

Yes, she had done her duty and saved her family from ruin, but that victory seemed hollow when faced with the stark reality of marriage to a stranger who already didn’t want her. Not for a moment had she thought it might hurt so much. Her sisters and brother still had the chance of finding love, enjoying a happy marriage, but she…

She would be trapped in an empty union.

Until death they did part.

HE HAD A FOGGY HEAD, and his mouth felt like the floor of a henhouse.

Slowly sitting up in bed and shuddering at the cloying, suffocating feel of sweat-damp clothing clinging to his skin, Gabriel narrowed his gaze on Hobbs, who sat quietly in the corner of the bedchamber brushing some jackets.

“Explain yourself.”