Page 56 of Duke in Darkness

“I’m sorry. Truly sorry.”

Lady Kingsford smiled thinly and took a sip from her teacup. “Well then. I’m a charitable woman, so I shall eventually find it in my heart to forgive you. But perhaps you should go now and think on what I have said. How you can improve yourself so you do not behave badly like your mother so often did. I still shudder that she forced Kingsford to kiss her outside the bedchamber, hopped about in dirt like a farm laborer, allowed you children to dine with her, and treated servants like family. Her bad blood must not overcome your superior Nash stock. Indeed, go now and heed my words. They are the wisest you’ll ever hear.”

Lilian nodded, although a wicked part of her was relieved at the dismissal. Conversations with her grandmother often left her wretched, but today, she couldn’t imagine feeling worse. Besides, she clearly had much to do to fix matters with both Exton and the ducal townhouse. “Of course, Grandmother. Good day to you, and please give my regards to Father.”

After dipping into a curtsy, she straightened, and with her shoulders back and head held high like a proper lady, Lilian left the parlor.

“Are you leaving, Your Grace?”

Startled, she almost stumbled at the footman’s polite question. “Yes. Please have my carriage brought around at once. And fetch Dawn from the kitchens.”

“At once, madam,” he said, scooting away obediently.

A few minutes later, Dawn came hurrying into the foyer. Her maid started to say something, took one look at Lilian’s face, and obviously changed her mind. “Wrap up warmly, Your Grace. There is a chill wind blowing outside now. The sun hasn’t come out at all.”

Lilian inclined her head, but said nothing until the two of them were ensconced in the town carriage and on the way back to Exton House. Then she shuddered. “Oh dear.”

“Hmmm,” said Dawn with a faint scowl. “Dare I ask what her ladyship said this time?”

“Don’t look at me like that. It wasn’t anything other than the truth. She had heard all about what happened at the ball, and my display of tears afterward, and was none too pleased.”

“They were all talking about it in the kitchens,” Dawn grumbled. “One little upstart said her cousin works in the Exton kitchens, and told her everything when they met at the fishmonger. Ma’am, you must put a stop to the gossip. They need to mind their business, especially about His Grace.”

“I know. I’ve let my husband down in this matter.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I would,” said Lilian firmly. “But things are going to be different now. I will be a much improved wife and duchess in household matters.”

Even if she would never be the wife he truly wanted, Exton deserved nothing less.

IF LILIAN DIDN’T RETURN from the Kingsford townhouse soon, he would send every footman in his employ to wrest her back from her bloody grandmother’s clutches.

Forcing himself to turn away from the bedchamber window that looked down into Grosvenor Square, Gabriel hobbled over to the fireplace and sank his bare foot back into the bowl of warm water that also contained several teaspoons of salt and a dash of vinegar. Aggie had given him the recipe before he’d left France, telling him it would help healing, reduce infection, and if he massaged the scar and surrounding tissue afterward, would stop the flesh from becoming rock hard and inflexible. The prickly woman had of course been correct, but he had certainly cursed her name in the early days when the solution had felt like stabbing knives to his skin.

Nowadays it was more a brief tingle, although massage still hurt, but judging by the looks on the servants faces downstairs, no one would have a whit of sympathy today. Everyone knew he’d made Lilian cry after the damned ball, just as everyone knew he’d rode out early and stayed away for hours. Although the house was clean, the looks sent his way were not. In fact, some enterprising person had slipped a copy of the latest scandal sheet onto his bedchamber desk, and it couldn’t really be worse.

Under a headline The Duke of VEXton was a caricature drawing of a minotaur in evening clothes. He held a terrified dandy coiled in his tail, another dandy gripped in each fist, with a mountain of broken furniture and shattered glasses behind him. To the right was a crowd of familiar prominent faces watching on in horror, with the sub-caption: Polite Society.

Gabriel had thrown the offensive thing in the fire, all while knowing thousands of people would have already seen it, and that it would be the topic of discussion for the foreseeable future, at least until another reckless soul created a particularly juicy new scandal.

“Excuse me, Your Grace?”

He glanced over the door where a footman had popped his head around. “Yes?”

“Your new chairs have arrived. Shall we bring them in?”

Finally, something good. Hobbs had taken a list of his requirements to a furniture maker who had sworn that yes, of course he could craft a pair of wider than usual armchairs, fashioned of wood and covered in the softest leather, with a matching footstool. Even the thought of banishing the fussy and extremely uncomfortable gilt monstrosities from this room had improved his mood, but his ass and back would be downright jubilant.

Keeping his foot in the water—after this morning’s prolonged ride, and the subsequent pain and swelling, he would only don stockings and shoes for the king himself—Gabriel braced himself more comfortably against the mantelpiece. “Yes. Please do so.”

It took careful maneuvering by four footmen to get the new chairs through the door, for they were indeed large. But his mouth watered at the scent of freshly oiled leather, and at how soft and enticing the chairs looked. At least now when he was massaging or soaking his foot, or unable to sleep, he could do so in cushioned comfort.

“In front of the fire, here?” said another of the footmen, his arms bulging with the weight of the chair he helped to carry, and keeping the padded stool carefully balanced on top.

“Yes,” said Gabriel, unthinkingly stepping out of the water and shaking his foot, so he could step forward and move the gilt chairs out of the way.

“Jaysus…”