Page 34 of Duke in Darkness

But what a near-travesty. Exquisite fucking almost ruined thanks to that poisonous old puritan and her vile lies.

When Lilian came the first time, it had merely been a task well completed. His real victory had been bringing her to orgasm with his cock inside her, rocking his hips the right way against her clitoris, penetrating her at an angle that maximized her pleasure. When the sweet pulsing of her cunt forced him to spill his seed, he’d been both elated and smug. Until she’d burst into tears. That had been an awful moment, assuming he’d been too forceful and hurt her. But no. His wife had fallen apart because of some damned nonsense her grandmother had spouted in her ear about orgasms killing babies. And he still had to address Lilian’s odd comment about her mother’s terrible hot blood.

Christ. Yet another way the ton ruined young ladies. No information about the marriage bed, ridiculously incomplete information, or out and out revolting falsehoods.

When Lilian wept, he’d never been so grateful for all his years in the army. On countless occasions with women, children, and the elderly in Spanish and French villages, in forests and fields with bullet-ridden men, and around campsites with young ensigns trying to unravel the full gauntlet of emotion when they killed a man for the first time in battle, he’d had to coax information from them to understand and resolve a situation. So he had a well-honed ability to stay calm when faced with acute distress. But with Lilian, it had been infinitely more difficult. Her tears and fright had affected him deeply, had made him want to stay with her rather than return to his own bedchamber. But again, she’d made her wishes plain.

Which was for the best. A sheltered, well-bred society daughter would never be able to manage him at his worst, when he experienced his nightmares about Bayonne. He would just have to somehow keep those dark days from her. Forever.

“Good morning, Exton.”

Gabriel looked up as his wife entered the dining room and walked over to the buffet. “Lilian.”

“I just spoke with Imogen, she and Clarissa are going to visit the museum today. A new statue or something. I must say, I’m quite relieved your aunt’s companion shares her interest in relics. I like dirt, not dust!” she finished with a shy smile as she picked up a plate.

At first, after gazing wistfully at the array of tempting food, she only added a slice of toasted bread and berry preserve to her plate. But when he stared at her and raised an eyebrow, she added a spoonful of coddled eggs and one slice of ham. Then requested a footman bring a fresh pot of chocolate at once.

“Satisfied, Colonel?” she said with enough pertness to make his cock stir, as she walked over to sit in her new place at his right.

“Quite, corporal. Although not as much as I was…last night,” he murmured, too low for the footmen to hear.

Her cheeks went cherry red. “Exton.”

Gabriel held up his hands, innocent as a choirboy. “What?”

“You mustn’t say such things in the dining room,” she whispered.

“If you insist on talking of must nots…your gown.”

His duchess shot him a startled look, then stared down at the loose-fitting, high-necked, green monstrosity she wore. “What is wrong with it?”

“Everything, compared to the yellow gown…you wore yesterday.”

Lilian sighed. “I only have the one gown that fits like that. In truth, my attempt at rebellion. All the others are like this, approved by Grandmother.”

Ugh. As if he didn’t already have enough reasons to despise Lady Kingsford for life. But these atrocious gowns, that disguised Lilian’s ample breasts, and covered up her elegant shoulders, would have to go. Perhaps he could have her armoire taken out to the mews and accidentally set on fire. Or put all the gowns in a pile, and unleash a litter of untrained puppies. “I insist you have a new wardrobe made. Gowns that fit.”

She gasped. “But that will cost a fortune!”

“Tis lucky that the coffers are full, then. Isn’t it.”

“Very well. I shall make a modiste appointment,” Lilian replied non-commitally, as if she regarded shopping a terrible chore. Except her eyes were sparkling like the damned sapphires he hadn’t been able to purchase.

“Not just gowns,” Gabriel continued. “Slippers. Bonnets and shawls. Riding habit. Chemises. Everything. And soon. I don’t want any reminders…of previous influences. You are Duchess of Exton.”

“I am humbly obedient, husband.”

Minx. If they didn’t have an audience right now…

Inclining his head, Gabriel returned to his breakfast. Several neatly ironed newspapers sat to his left, but he didn’t read them. There were far too many stories about Napoleon. After everything he and his men had gone through to defeat that devil’s army and end the long, bloody Peninsular War, they’d all thought the fallen emperor’s exile to Elba would be the final chapter to the story. Exile, followed by a shameful and hopefully gruesome death. But no. On February 26, he’d somehow escaped the island and returned to France. By March 20, the man had reached Paris with an entire army marching behind him. God knew what Napoleon might be planning next, but his goals were never small ones. Whatever the next step, it would be cataclysmic. Brutal. And extraordinarily well planned, like some sort of elaborate chess match, because the Corsican had a genius military mind to rival anyone.

“Beg pardon, Your Grace, but the post has arrived.”

Gabriel glanced up at the fresh-faced footman hovering at his elbow. It seemed his wife was making inroads with the servants, the attitude of most had definitely improved. “Thank you.”

First he separated the bills to one side. Then he flicked through the small mountain of letters and invitations, tossing most aside unopened. Until he came to one with a very familiar crest stamped into the wax seal.

Opening it carefully, he read through the invitation to a private ball celebrating the start of the Season, in four days’ time at the Foreign Secretary Lord Castlereagh’s home in St. James’s Square. And the short scrawl at the bottom—“I’m resending this because I haven’t heard from you. Please come. EC.”