Page 69 of Duke in Darkness

Shuffling forward on her knees across the rug, Lilian halted beside him and assisted in removing his impeccably tailored black jacket and gray waistcoat, leaving him in just a white linen shirt with slightly puffed sleeves and closed at the throat with one button, and his buff-colored trousers. Then, using her fingernails, she unpicked the deceptively simple knot of his cravat, and unwound the length of starched white linen from his throat. “How is that?”

“Much better. Hate them all. So tight…makes my scars itch.”

Lilian stilled at the casual comment that was anything but, hope and relief twisting together in her stomach like hundreds of wild butterflies. He was going to talk to her? Very, very tentatively she replied, “On your back?”

“Back. Chest. Side. Legs. Foot. They cut me…everywhere.”

“What they did was pure evil. I cannot even grasp such actions. Wait, you are wearing stockings still. Are they comfortable? Or do you prefer bare feet?”

“Bare,” he admitted, a slight flush highlighting his cheekbones. “But my foot is not fit…to be seen.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Gabriel. If you can bear it, then I certainly can. Take them off.”

He hesitated, doubt flashing across his face, so she made an impatient, ‘hurry up’ gesture. In return, her husband gave her a mocking salute, then leaned forward and carefully peeled the calf-length cotton stockings from his legs. One foot looked completely normal, lightly tanned and fully formed. But the other…

Dear God.

Lilian dug her fingernails into her palms so she didn’t scream. The other was misshapen, like it had been broken and badly repaired. And the underside had a long, gouged-out area surrounded by rough, pink and white crisscrossed flesh. Burned.

“Told you…it was bad,” said Gabriel, looking away.

“Wearing shoes must be dreadful.”

His gaze snapped back to hers, surprise in his eyes. “Yes. Worse than clothing. Especially new shoes.”

“Hmmm,” she said thoughtfully, her mind whirring as she tried to think of a way to ease the problem. “What if you had pairs made to accommodate some padding for that foot? Perhaps half an inch deeper? Might make it a little more comfortable to walk.”

Now he just looked flummoxed, and Lilian fought down a surge of anger. Why had nobody, not his tailors nor bootmakers nor anyone else thought to make allowances for his injuries? It would be simple enough for a man skilled in his trade, and the businesses that the ton favored tended to have the best available.

“I…er…” he mumbled. “Suppose we could try.”

“Excellent,” she said briskly. “Now, let’s—”

Her words were cut off as Gabriel captured her mouth in a hot, hungry kiss, his big hands clamping on her upper arms and neatly trapping her. Now she understood why he did so, the instinctive action bothered her less and less. Besides, his kisses were far too good to worry about anything else. The way his lips mastered hers, firm and demanding, was too delicious.

“Damnation,” he growled suddenly as he pulled away. “Who the hell is knocking?”

Lilian cursed under her breath. Naturally, the food she had requested would arrive at this exact moment. “I ordered supper to be brought here. Just let me fetch it.”

Scrambling to her feet while valiantly attempting not to trip over her nightgown or dressing gown, Lilian hurried to the main bedchamber door. Outside two footmen waited with a wheeled cart they had carried up from the kitchens, near-bulging with covered dishes, cutlery, glasses, napkins, and a decanter of wine. “Thank you,” she said with a quick nod. “That will be all.”

The footmen bowed, and Lilian shut the door. Then she carefully wheeled the cart over to the fireplace, trying not to wince as the silver and crystal clattered and clinked as though she’d pushed it down a staircase. “Here we go.”

“Don’t want food. Just brandy,” he grumbled, and she almost smiled at the thwarted lust on his face as she removed the covers from the dishes and delicious scents wafted in the air.

“I’m afraid all I have is wine. But look here. It’s nothing fancy. Just a nice hot beef stew and fresh bread and butter to mop it up. Won’t you have a few bites? I suspect you haven’t eaten all day.”

Gabriel laughed, yet there was little humor in the sound. “You sound like Hobbs. I’m not a…toddler in the nursery.”

“No. But you do need something to eat. Perhaps some vanilla custard? That will go down easily if you are feeling a little unwell—”

“God damn it, Lili,” he snarled, and she flinched at the sound of his closed fist banging on the wooden floor. “I can’t do this now. Not on…this night.”

Lilian’s heart almost shattered at the pain in his voice. The bleak despair. “I know…I know tomorrow is one year since…”

Gabriel stared back at her, his expression hollow and raw, his shoulders stooped. “Yes. Since Bayonne.”

HE COULDN’T DO THIS. Couldn’t bloody do it.