Page 72 of Duke in Darkness

“No you aren’t,” said Gabriel, stroking her arm. “Tell me about your mother. What was she like?”

“Bold. Loud,” replied Lilian, as a smile tugged at her lips. “When she laughed, you could hear it from rooms away. We had a big box of costumes, and would put on shows for Father. Our favorite was pirates, and Mama played the pirate queen. Can you imagine. Also, she would read the newspapers and interrogate Father at the dining table when he returned from the House of Lords. We all adored her. Grandmother did not.”

“Let me guess. Lady Kingsford said…you and your mother were similar.”

Lilian froze. “How did you know that?”

“That time you cried, after your first orgasm. You said you were cursed with…your mother’s hot blood. I can only assume…your grandmother’s accusation.”

“Yes.”

Gabriel sighed. “Sounds like jealousy. For the record, I like your hot blood very much. Also your kind heart.”

A blush scorched across her cheekbones, and Lilian burrowed her face into the pillow. Any moment now she would be heavy-eyed and pink-nosed with happy tears. It might not be declarations of love, but this was the kind of marriage she’d not dared to dream of. Caring, affectionate, yet also passionate as well. Somehow the marriage of convenience between two strangers was turning into so much more, and she welcomed the development with every bone in her body.

Of course it was still early days, and they had many steps to go, including of course, the main reason for their marriage, an heir to secure the title. But to have someone she could talk to, really talk to, about private matters like Grandmother, or her late mother, was wonderful. And to have a husband who saw the character trait that she’d been scolded and beaten about for most of her life not as a flaw but something good?

Well. Magical indeed.

And on that happy thought, she closed her eyes, and fell asleep.

HIS CLOTHING ITCHED, he had a numb arm, he needed to use the chamber pot quite desperately, and his foot had started throbbing a little. But not for the world would Gabriel move from this heavenly spot, lying in bed on a cool spring morning cradling his sleeping wife.

Truth be told, he wasn’t even sure he had the vigor to move. After the meeting at Whitehall, then his confession to Lilian about the night of the battle, he’d felt drained beyond words. But he’d slept for hours, without brandy or laudanum or anything else, and now his body seemed quite out of sorts. Almost confused. How could he have had such a good sleep and still be tired? It had been so embarrassing saying to Lili that he wanted to just lie in bed rather than fuck her, when any other morning he knew his cock would be harder than stone having her ample backside pressed against it, and the plump curves of her breasts a hairsbreadth from his fingers. But much like last night, she’d been so kind. Compassionate. Even better, she had shared something personal of her own, about her mother.

As much as he disliked hearing the pain in her voice, he’d needed that from her. To see beneath the ton lady mask to the real woman with her own burdens to bear. Now they could march forward together. Help each other. Have a real marriage, not just one of convenience.

A knock sounded on the door, and before he could tell Hobbs to make himself scarce, his valet strode into the bedchamber with a chirpy, “Good morning.”

Gabriel scowled. “Shhhh. You’ll wake her.”

Hobbs halted, his expression utterly comical as he took in the sight before him. A fully dressed duke, in bed, curled around his sleeping wife. Then his weathered face broke into a beaming smile. “Humblest apologies,” he whispered, sotto voce. “Should I return with breakfast on a tray for two?”

“I don’t wish to eat with you. The way you crunch toast…is an insult to ears.”

“Good God, Your Grace. That almost sounded like humor. Breakfast, then?”

“Before you go…would you get some balm?”

His valet’s gaze sharpened. “Is your foot hurting?”

“A little. But if I rub some balm in…before it gets worse, might be able…to hold off an attack.”

“Gabriel?” said Lilian sleepily. Then she sat bolt upright. “Er, Hobbs. Good morning.”

“Your Grace,” said Hobbs, bowing. “I was just about to fetch some balm for his foot.”

“Can I watch? I should like to know how to assist, if the need arose.”

Surprised and warmed at the offer, Gabriel nodded. “But first, I need to er…” he gestured to the screen in the corner of the room that hid his chamber pot.

Lilian’s cheeks went pink. “I also need to, er…please wait for me, I shall return.”

Gabriel watched in amusement as she near-leaped out of bed and scampered away to her own bedchamber. Once he’d taken care of that pressing need, he returned and perched on the side of his bed. His foot was definitely beginning to stiffen up now, enough to make him grit his teeth. The damned thing was so temperamental, some days he could move relatively freely with tolerable discomfort, other days, it hurt like hell. And it truly didn’t like the cold or damp.

“I’m back,” said Lilian as she returned, carrying her dressing table seat and setting it down beside the bed.

Hobbs looked uncertain. “Are you sure you wish to see this, Your Grace?”