Page 5 of Duke in Darkness

The entrance hall of Kingsford House wasn’t nearly as well-lit as his own however, and a trickle of perspiration immediately gathered at the nape of his neck. Fuck. No. Not today.

Taking a deep breath, Gabriel gripped his cane tighter, then inclined his head at the butler. “Lead on.”

“His lordship, the dowager, and Lady Lilian are in the gold parlor. It is a short distance,” the older man finished delicately, clearly aware of the guest’s infirmities.

Gabriel made a non-committal sound, and they walked the rest of the way to the parlor in silence. Not that the butler would have expected conversation, but it took every ounce of Gabriel’s will to keep his feet moving, and remember to inhale and exhale. This townhouse had obviously been designed by someone with a fondness for Tudor architecture, and the narrow hallways, small diamond-paned windows, and dark paneling would turn him Bedlamite if he became lost.

“Here we are, Your Grace,” said the butler, as he rapped on the door, and bowed low again.

Nodding his thanks, Gabriel pushed open the door and entered the room. Ugh. Quentin would have been very much at home in this elaborate monstrosity of peach silk walls, gilt-framed paintings, and fussy embroidered chaises.

“Your Grace! Welcome. You are most welcome in my home,” said a plump, ruddy-faced gentleman, getting to his feet from one of the chaises. “I am Kingsford, of course.”

“My lord,” said Gabriel, inclining his head.

“Allow me to introduce my mother, the dowager Lady Kingsford.”

A cold-eyed, silver-haired woman draped in diamonds and wearing a severe gray gown, sank into a curtsy. “Exton.”

“Lady Kingsford.”

“And,” continued the earl heartily, “this is my beloved eldest daughter, the Lady Lilian Nash.”

Gabriel turned his head.

And almost forgot to breathe.

This was Lady Lilian?

Whatever he’d been expecting, it certainly wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life. A contrast to him in every way, she looked too perfect to be real as she curtsied deeply. Eyes the blue of Ceylon sapphires, golden hair arranged in a coiled braid at her nape that no single strand dared escape. Creamy skin unblemished by so much as a freckle, well at least the small amount not hidden by a shapeless long-sleeved white gown with a pale blue sash, making it impossible to tell if she possessed curves or not. But her mouth. If the rest of her cried virginal angel, her mouth was sin personified. Plump, pink lips just made to kiss for hours, to beg for wicked pleasures, to wrap around his cock and suck him dry.

Lady Lilian was a woman he could happily gaze upon for the rest of his life. A ray of light in a dark world. Once she grew used to his countenance and quirks, they might even form a friendship. Perhaps more. Christ, just the thought of her as a loving wife, naked and wet and eager in his bed, craving his touch, pleading to be fucked hard and deep…

“Your Grace?”

Hell. All three members of the Nash family were staring at him. Had he made a sound? Had he actually growled like a starving wolf as his body abruptly returned to life after being suffocated in shadow for so long?

Gabriel inclined his head. “Delighted, my lady.”

GABRIEL, Duke of Exton, was terrifying.

Counting backward from twenty in her head so she didn’t scream, Lilian somehow managed to seat herself back on her chair without fainting in a heap at her new fiancé’s feet.

Good heavens. The rumors of danger and madness were probably true. How on earth could she marry this man?

Exton was huge, at least a full head taller than her previous betrothed had been. Massive shoulders strained against his jacket, and his trousers indecently outlined thighs that were far too hard looking for a gentleman. He appeared raw and rough, with swarthy skin, black-as-night hair, and equally dark eyes pinning her in place, plus a horrific, painful-looking scar on one side of his face. The very portrait of a medieval warrior forced into modern attire for the day. But the way he had looked at her for a moment…like he hadn’t eaten for a month and she was a six-course banquet, made perspiration coat her entire body. She wanted to run. All the way up to her bedchamber, latch the door and shove her trousseau chest against it for good measure.

When the silence stretched beyond politeness, her father cleared his throat. “Please do take a seat, Exton. You have seen the contracts?”

“I have,” said the duke as he lowered himself onto a chaise, but his gaze remained locked on her. As though he might see into her soul.

Lilian shivered.

Giving her a disgusted look, Grandmother turned to Exton. “The terms outlined are non-negotiable, of course. Lilian will be an exemplary duchess and can be relied upon to always do her marital duty. Her late mother delivered four healthy children, including twins, with little enough fuss. You needn’t worry on that account. You’ll soon have the heirs you need.”

Embarrassment scorched Lilian’s cheeks at the blunt discussion, but her father merely nodded, and the duke sat expressionless as if they were commenting on the weather. Clearly nothing was sacred when it came to marriage contracts.

“I’m sure all will be…” said Exton, pausing to flick a speck of something from his jacket sleeve, “…satisfactory.”