Page 67 of Duke in Darkness

“Dearest, never worry about money,” said Lilian quickly, leaning forward to take her hand. “I know if I asked him, Exton would ensure you both have generous dowries—”

“I think I’ve made it quite clear I’m not getting married,” said Pippa, making a face before turning to the carriage window to watch two gentlemen in a bright yellow phaeton race by. “Bad enough I get dragged to soirees when I’d rather read. Gentlemen are far more interesting in books. Ton men are twits.”

“You like talking to Lord Knighton well enough, and he’s a ton man,” pointed out Georgiana archly.

Pippa sniffed, and removed her spectacles to clean them with a handkerchief. “We’ve known each other forever. He’s my best friend, not a man man.”

Lilian exchanged a glance with Georgiana. No doubt poor Finlay Knighton, the dashing and exceedingly handsome heir to a marquessate, would be delighted to hear that. “Every other woman in the ton might beg to differ, Pippa. He is never short of feminine company.”

“I know. I tease him about it all the time.”

“Anyway,” said Georgiana. “You bloody well are getting married to someone. And I don’t want Exton’s money. My future husband doesn’t need it. But he does need a well-connected bride from the heart of the ton. And if Grandmother is cross and we are pariahs because of gossip about Lilian and Exton…”

Guilt twisted Lilian’s stomach and she looked away. It would probably take a while for the Castlereagh ball tale to die down. And it wasn’t like she could promise that nothing like that would ever happen again; Gabriel’s horrific experiences in France were clearly still very raw, and with Napoleon’s return to Paris in every newspaper, her husband would be a prime target for those with a malicious bent like Sir Roger. After her talk to the servants in the entrance hall, she hoped the gossip would significantly decrease, but there was no way to stop it entirely. Some people just loved to chatter.

“Lilian?” said Pippa.

“Are you even listening?” demanded Georgiana, folding her arms and glaring.

She sighed, wanting to leave the carriage and take some air more than anything. Even if the odor made her want to retch. “Of course I’m listening. I just don’t know what to say. The ball story is true, and the damned gossips will continue on until something else happens.”

Pippa gasped. “Did you just say damned?”

“Wait,” said Georgiana, an expression of actual alarm on her face, “who are you, and what have you done with Lilian? Our real sister hasn’t said that word in years.”

Heat swept across Lilian’s cheeks. Considering all the words that Gabriel had taught her, and insisted she say, damned was rather mild. And in all honesty, there were occasions requiring something far stronger than ‘blast’. “Well, I said it. And I may say it again, so I do hope you have your hartshorn at the ready.”

“You’ve changed,” said Pippa, tilting her head and resting it on the carriage window. “Marriage has changed you back. You seem…I don’t know. Bold again.”

“Reckless, you mean,” muttered Georgiana. “My older sister is supposed to be above reproach and responsible. I don’t know this Lilian. I’m not sure I want to, either.”

That struck like a blow, but somehow she managed to keep her composure. “I’m not sure a woman can wed and not be changed, even in small ways. Marriage brings with it joys and sorrows and difficulties, no matter who your husband. And Exton is…”

Complex. Very, very complex. A man who can punch another in a ballroom, and yet kiss me so tenderly. Who has introduced me to pleasures I never dreamed imaginable. Who rarely sleeps, and sometimes looks as though he carries all the burdens in the world on his shoulders. Who holds secrets I might never know, no matter how much I want to. Who might well be the man who holds my heart forever.

“Exton is what?” said Pippa, her face bright with curiosity.

“A man like most others,” she lied at last, forcing a calm smile reminiscent of the Lilian of old, and both her sisters visibly relaxed.

In itself, rather troubling, as a woman could only play so many roles to please others.

Even the perfect duchess.

CHAPTER 16

“T hank you for coming, Exton. I know these matters are, hmmm, unpleasant for you.”

A rather gross understatement, but Gabriel inclined his head at Robert Castlereagh as he took a seat in the secure upstairs room at Whitehall. Under different circumstances he probably wouldn’t have agreed to meet with the Foreign Secretary, plus Lord Liverpool, and a few other select high-ranking government officials. But after the ball debacle, he did owe the viscount a favor. And no matter what he felt personally, he remained far too much a soldier not to do his duty when it came to protection of the realm. The dark shadow of Napoleon’s return to power might be the greatest threat England had ever faced.

“Shall we begin?” he said politely, ignoring the final part of Robert’s statement.

Liverpool nodded brusquely from across the long wooden table. “I must also add my thanks, Exton. Written reports are one thing, but firsthand accounts from a man who has seen years and years of some of the bloodiest land battles in modern history are invaluable. And you stayed with your men even after reaching the rank of colonel. Not many do.”

Gabriel shrugged at the Prime Minister’s words. “I preferred to lead from the front. Although I also appreciated…the opportunities given to…speak to parliament about pay…and supplies. Those who control the purse strings…and those in the field…don’t often see eye to eye.”

Castlereagh barked out a laugh. “Truer words have never been spoken. Which is why we need your experience of both now. We’ve received reports ranging from detailed to damned sketchy at best from our exploring officers about activities occurring in Paris since the Corsican returned. I’d like to know more firsthand field accounts. How Napoleon’s influence filters down through the ranks and so forth. He is brazen and persuasive, we know that much. But anything further could help what we and our Seventh Coalition allies are about to face.”

Gabriel shifted uncomfortably in the high backed chair, his gaze traveling around the room. Even thinking about Napoleon and his generals gave him a cold sweat, and it felt like every scar on his body prickled as a reminder of what he’d suffered at the hands of the French. As though he needed a reminder. Although his body’s reaction could also be attributed to the fact that tomorrow was the first anniversary of Bayonne. April 14. A date that would live in infamy for its brutality, stupidity, and utter waste of good men.