Page 20 of Duke in Darkness

The yearning blasted through him, warring fiercely with his instinctive recoil. Perhaps he had indeed lost his mind. She didn’t love him. He didn’t love her. And yet the thought of a brief, light, affectionate stroke of his hair, a warm smile…

A soft hand came to rest on his forearm, and wild hope roared through him.

Instead, she nudged his arm away. “Exton, I do beg your pardon, but would you mind, ah, withdrawing? I’m a little uncomfortable. And I’m sure you’ll want to retire to your own chamber. The last thing we want is servant gossip.”

Her words were like being doused in a bucket of icy water. Probably another duke and duchess rule.

“Of course,” Gabriel said blandly, as though it didn’t matter a whit, balancing on his elbow again and carefully withdrawing from her. A little blood smeared her inner thighs along with trickling seed, and he hesitated. “Do you want me…to fetch a washcloth? Sit with you a while?”

Lilian’s cheeks went scarlet. “No. No thank you. Dawn, my maid, will attend me. If you would just, ah, retire…”

“You are well, though?”

“Quite well. Goodnight, Exton.”

And with that polite dismissal, he left her bed. The wooden floor seemed colder, the distance to his bedchamber further, and underneath his still thankfully secured robe, every scar he possessed burned mockingly.

She doesn’t want you in return. She never will. Lilian loved Quentin. This is duty, nothing more.

There it was. How a man could have a dukedom, a wife, countless servants…

And still be utterly alone.

CHAPTER 5

A pril

“SO, Your Grace. Tell us everything about married life. And by everything, we mean everything.”

Lilian glanced up from where she’d been inspecting a raisin pastry with the intentness of one of those gentlemen who studied bugs. The Exton House drawing room was ridiculously cavernous, and decorated in such a similar fashion to Grandmother’s fussy taste, with watered silk walls, hard, bottom-hating furniture, and many ugly figurines, that it made her uncomfortable even being in here. And that didn’t even consider the dried mud on the floor, less than sparkling windows, and dusty curtains. Her next task would be discovering what the large number of servants in this townhouse actually did each day, for it certainly wasn’t cleaning.

But she had to navigate this smiling interrogation from her two remaining unwed friends, Lady Joy Ludlow and the Honorable Miss Leah Fenwick first. While a part of her was glad to have the company, another part wished they had waited longer before making a morning call. A wife of five days could hardly speak on the topic with any degree of authority. Besides, it wasn’t like she had achieved anything other than a disastrous wedding day followed by a disastrous wedding night, and several disastrous suppers. “There’s not much to tell.”

Red-headed Joy raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

“Yes, really. For heaven’s sake, it hasn’t even been a week.”

“I think she is holding out on us,” said ebony-haired Leah, wrinkling her nose. “While I concede that less than a week isn’t enough to know it all, I’m sure there are certain subjects you are far more enlightened on than when we last saw you.”

Lilian winced. Of course. They wanted to know about marital relations.

Yet she couldn’t be called an expert on that, either, Exton had only visited her bedchamber the one time, choosing to stay away the previous few evenings. While her tender womanly parts were glad of the respite after the pain of losing her virginity, the rejection stung. It was just all so blasted difficult. She’d felt so vulnerable afterward, especially not knowing what to do once the deed was done, being sore and sticky, and far worse, quelling the urge to hug him or stroke his hair. It had been surprisingly strong, especially when his cheek accidentally brushed hers. For a moment she’d pretended it had been real affection. Just as quickly her mind had scolded her for being a twit, and she’d hastily asked him to retire before she made a fool of herself. For heaven’s sake, Exton had expressly forbidden her from touching him. He didn’t want that kind of marriage. She needed to accept it like a proper duchess.

Well, if Exton allowed her to be a proper duchess. He hadn’t asked for her counsel on anything, so all she had to offer was the prospect of an heir, but she could hardly do that alone.

“Certain subjects,” said Lilian, staring at the raisin pastry again, “are not for the ears of unmarried innocents. Or something like that.”

“Oh, pooh,” said Leah. “Come on, Lilian, you would be doing us a great favor. I know I don’t want to have the talk from my mother, she and Father barely speak anymore and she doesn’t have a lover. She might not even remember what a cock looks like.”

“Leah!” giggled Joy. “Hush, and let Lilian talk. Whatever she wishes to say.”

Lilian grimaced. “I don’t wish to say anything.”

“But you will. Because you love your friends and don’t want them to be ignorant henwits.”

Somehow, Lilian managed to suppress her snort. Yes, she did love them dearly, but this was entirely too embarrassing to discuss. Especially at this point in her marriage. “What exactly is it you want to know?”

Both Joy and Leah sat forward on the gold embroidered chaise, their faces lighting up.