The Duchess in His Bed

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The Duchess in His Bed Page 10

by Heath Lorraine


  And the tears fell all the harder.

  A woman of her station did not cry with such undignified force. She didn’t wrap her fingers around a man’s nape and bury her face against his neck and shower him in tears while he gently stroked her back.

  “Did your husband never give you that?”

  How did she explain that what Aiden Trewlove delivered had completely undone her? The intimacy of it, the overwhelming ecstasy of it? Shaking her head, she sniffed, fought to regain control, to not recall how unimpassioned and staid her encounters with Lushing had been. Had he desired her at all?

  Aiden’s arms closed more tightly around her. “Is that the reason you came here? You were searching for passion?”

  She couldn’t confess her true reason for seeking him out, but neither did she want to give him false words. “I’m not certain I was truly aware of everything I was searching for. I’ve never experienced anything so wondrous, all consuming. Should it always be like this?”

  “Not always. Some men are hesitant to engage fully in carnal pleasures with their wives. They . . . they’re not comfortable with the more . . . animalistic aspects of our nature.”

  The tears slowed to a trickle, leaving her weary and exhausted. “It was rather raw . . . what I felt just now. I hadn’t expected to feel so vulnerable.” A horrible thought occurred to her. “You won’t ever tell—”

  “No. You’re safe with me. Whatever passes between us remains between us.”

  She took a great shuddering breath. “I miss him.” The words were out before she’d even realized what they would be. The tears spilled forward again. “He was kind.”

  “Last night you said you didn’t marry for love, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t love him. Did you?”

  She didn’t hesitate to nod. “But it wasn’t a passionate love, not the sort you read about in romantic novels.”

  “I don’t read romantic novels.”

  She smiled, almost laughed at the tone of his voice, as though he’d been insulted. “I enjoy them immensely. But regardless, our love was not a deep and abiding thing. Perhaps that is the reason other aspects of our relationship lacked passion.”

  “You can have passion without love.”

  Aiden Trewlove had certainly proved that point a mere few minutes ago. But could one have romantic love without passion? She imagined how much more fulfilling what she’d experienced earlier would be if shared with someone she adored beyond all reason.

  “It can’t be easy being a young widow,” he said softly, turning them away from talk of love.

  “I don’t imagine it’s easy being an old one either. My life is a series of routines—not in a boring way. But he was part of them. I dress for dinner and go down to the library, and he’s not there, tumbler in hand as he stares into the fire, to turn and smile at me. When I’m reading and run across a particularly well-written passage and look up to share, he’s not sitting in the chair across from me, engrossed in his own novel. I seek him out a dozen times a day, only to recall he’s no longer there. And it always hurts.”

  Straightening, she held his gaze. “I don’t know how long it takes before it stops hurting.”

  Skimming his fingers along her cheek, threading them into her hair, Aiden wished to hell he could offer her reassurance that the pain would ease, but he knew nothing of permanent loss. Nor had he expected the night to take the turn it had. Of all the reactions he’d anticipated of her, uncontrollable tears had not been one of them.

  He was a stranger to offering comfort, suspected he rather failed at it. Perhaps that was the reason he didn’t search for words but merely took her mouth as gently as he was able. It caused a sharp needlelike pain in his chest to see her so unhappy, an ache he didn’t particularly fancy. Rogue that he was, when it came to women, as much as he enjoyed them, he kept a barrier between them and his emotions.

  He had little to offer a woman in the way of influence, prestige, and—if he were honest with himself—pride in him as a man to stand at her side. He was a gambling hell owner, a purveyor of vice. He hadn’t yet attained the level of wealth that would cause people to overlook his questionable businesses or his sordid entry into the world, because until recently he’d given a good bit of his earnings to his maggot of a sire. But even if he had an abundance of coins, would it be fair to ask any woman to love him when the world would always view him as the bastard he was? That taint could never be washed away, and he wouldn’t be responsible for bringing children into the world who would have to carry the burden of his shame.

  So he wasn’t particularly pleased with how much he’d come to care for this woman in such a short time, especially when she’d made it clear she wanted only one thing of him. He didn’t like knowing that when he eventually succumbed to her wishes and gave it to her fully, he might never see her again.

  For he would always remember the feel of her tears gathering on his neck, the warmth of her nestled within his arms, the taste of her on his tongue.

  When he pulled back, she smiled at him, causing the ache in his chest to increase.

  “You have a way of distracting me from my troubles.” Gratitude was mirrored in her eyes.

  “I’m at your service anytime you require distracting.”

  A small half laugh. A blush that turned her pale cheeks a rosy hue. It occurred to him to have the walls repainted that shade so he was always reminded of her.

  For several long minutes, she merely held his gaze, and he held hers, as though words were no longer of any consequence. She looked away first. “I have to leave now.”

  He almost asked her to stay, to spend the remainder of the night in his bed. Not that he would do anything other than hold her. While he was desperate to possess her, he didn’t think she was yet of a mind to be possessed by him. She wasn’t yet thoroughly seduced.

  So he untangled himself from around her and assisted her in climbing out of his lap. After slipping into his shirt, he watched with fascination as she tidied her clothing. Then he laced her back up.

  She didn’t bother with her hair. Merely returned the mask to its place so she was once again safe from recognition. Still, he escorted her down the hallway to a private stairwell that led to the foyer, so she wouldn’t have to traverse through the gaming floor. Retrieving her wrap from the girl at the counter there, he draped it around her shoulders and ushered her out into the night, to the carriage that waited for her.

  When they reached it, she faced him. “I apologize for making such a spectacle of myself.”

  “No need for apologies, sweetheart. But I do hope you won’t allow any discomfort you might be feeling regarding your tears to prevent you from returning.”

  Reaching up, she skimmed her fingers along his jaw that was shadowed with bristles now. He could hear the rasp of them over her skin. “Tomorrow.”

  He handed her up into the carriage and closed the door. As the vehicle rumbled down the street, he watched it go, wondering how he could possibly seduce her half as much as she’d seduced him.

  When Selena reached her bedchamber door, she hesitated, not wanting to deal with Winslow tonight if he was lurking about like a miscreant in the shadows of her room. It was quite possible he might look at her and know what she’d been up to. In spite of her tears, she felt as though she still glowed from Aiden’s ministrations, and she wanted to hold those sensations close, take them with her beneath the sheets.

  She considered seeking another bed rather than her own—the residence contained at least thirty other chambers—but in the end decided she was in want of familiar surroundings. When she stepped into her quarters it was to discover that her brother was nowhere to be seen, but her three sisters were all scrunched up in her bed, the twins appearing to be asleep, while Alice was sitting up, pillows at her back, her nose buried in a book. Aiden immediately came to mind, and she wondered if sleep had come easily for him or if it eluded him and forced him to pull one of his many books from the shelves to occupy his mind, so he didn’t think of her
.

  Silly girl, as though he gave any thought to her at all after she left. If he required distracting, plenty of women in his club would be only too glad to provide a diversion. She didn’t want to acknowledge the spark of jealousy that thought ignited. While she had his attentions, she wanted him giving them to no one else. Perhaps that should have been the prize she sought—but oh, the one she’d claimed could not be measured.

  Alice set her book in her lap and looked at Selena with grave concern etched over her features. “Where have you been? We’ve been worried silly.”

  “Yes, I can quite see that. Nudge those two awake so you can all scamper back to your rooms.”

  Without the nudging, Constance and Florence stirred, squinted at her, and pushed themselves into sitting positions. “You’re back,” they said in unison.

  “So I am.”

  “Where were you?” Flo asked.

  With the mask nestled in the folds of her skirt, she wandered over to the vanity, where she discreetly set it behind an ornate trinket box Lushing had once given her, went to remove her gloves, and realized she’d never put them back on, had left them with Aiden. Fortunately, she wasn’t lacking in coverings for her hands but would need to remember to fetch them tomorrow. As unobtrusively as possible, she barely lifted the lid on her smaller jewelry box, slid out her wedding ring, and returned it to its proper place on her finger. “I needed to get out for a while, to be alone, to find some measure of peace. What are you girls doing in here?”

  “We couldn’t sleep with a corpse in residence,” Alice said. “It’s morbid having the casket remaining in the front parlor.”

  “It’s the way it’s done, sweeting.”

  “I hear him creeping along the hallways,” Connie said.

  “You mustn’t speak of dear Lushing in that manner.” Selena sat on the stuffed bench covered in a tapestry of flowers. “Although, if he were a ghost, he wouldn’t haunt you. He loved you all dearly, you know that.”

  “Let us sleep here with you,” Alice said. “Like we did when we were younger, after Mother and Father met their untimely end.”

  Which was how Alice always referred to their passing, as though anyone ever attained a timely end. She couldn’t help but believe her youngest sister had been most affected by their parents’ tragic deaths. Standing, she drew her unbound hair over one shoulder. Her pins had remained behind as well. “Come undo my lacings, so I don’t have to send for Bailey.” Her lady’s maid tended to be a bit taciturn when awakened.

  Setting her book aside, Alice scrambled out of the bed, darted over, and began unlacing the gown, her fingers nimble, never straying from the task. “How ever did you get that mark there? It looks ghastly.”

  With her heart pounding, Selena leaned toward the mirror. At the far side of her neck where it curved into her shoulder was a small discolored patch resembling a bruise but not, where earlier a mouth had been suckling, a tongue soothing. She grew warm with the memories of how it had come to be. He’d branded her, at least temporarily for surely eventually it would fade. “It’s nothing.”

  “Does it hurt? It appears painful.”

  It had been anything but. “No.”

  “How did you get it?” Flo asked, coming up on her knees on the bed as though that would give her a better view.

  Selena had to tell them something or they’d keep on about it. “Bailey dropped the brush earlier when she was managing my hair. It struck me at an odd angle.”

  “You should let her go if she’s that careless,” Connie said.

  “I’m not going to let Bailey go. It was an accident. Don’t say anything to her about it. Don’t say anything to anyone. As I said earlier, it’s nothing.” With the collar of her mourning attire up to her chin, no one would see it.

  “Why are you wearing a ball gown anyway?” Connie asked, flopping down on her stomach, with her head at the foot of the bed, her chin resting in her hands.

  “I grew weary of mourning black and no one was going to see me, so what did it matter what I wore?”

  “My word, Selena. It’s a bit early to grow weary of it when you’ll be wearing it for two years.” Connie pronounced the length of time as though it were a death sentence handed down by a magistrate. “Thank God, we have to mourn for only three months, although I shall be sad much longer than that because you’re right. Lushing was jolly nice. He made me laugh.”

  “He made us all laugh,” Flo said. “Where did you go, Selena?”

  “Around. Honestly you girls are going to have to cease with the inquisition if you want to remain in my bed.”

  Once Selena was in her nightdress, Alice offered to plait her hair. Studying her sister’s reflection in the mirror, she could see the seriousness with which she saw to the task, the way she gripped the brush as though fearing she’d lose control of it and cause another injury. Selena should have come up with a reason for the mark that didn’t involve her maid but hadn’t expected to face questions upon walking into her bedchamber.

  “She’s practicing for when she has to become a lady’s maid.” Flo sighed heavily. “We’ll all have to go into service. None of us will make a good marriage now without Lushing about to ensure it. Winslow is useless in that regard.”

  “I’m going to become a wealthy widow’s companion and travel the world,” Connie said.

  “No one is going into service and no one is becoming anyone’s companion,” Selena assured them. “You will all have fine marriages.”

  “How will you arrange that when almost everything goes to the Crown?”

  “Don’t worry yourselves over it for now.” She was worrying enough for all of them. “All will be well.” She needed to ensure it was. Alice was terrible at plaiting hair. The braid was far too loose with tendrils sticking out everywhere. “Thank you, darling. That’s wonderful.”

  So many lies she’d given to her sisters tonight. She hated herself for them, but what choice did she have? They must never learn the truth; no one must ever learn the truth. The remainder of her life would be spent living a lie.

  “All right, to bed now. Tomorrow is going to be a frightfully long day.” Lushing would be laid to rest. She settled in with the twins on her left and Alice on her right. Her youngest sister doused the lamp, enclosing them in darkness.

  “I miss him,” Alice said quietly.

  “I know, sweeting. As do I.”

  “We’ll be spinsters before we have our first Season,” Connie said.

  “Stop worrying about your future,” Alice said.

  “Flo and I were to have our coming out. Now it’ll be delayed because we can’t very well gad about when Selena is in mourning. We need her to accompany us. Winslow would be wretched at ensuring we’re seen. It’s not fair.”

  “It’s not as though Lushing died on purpose,” Alice reminded her. “We’re supposed to be comforting Selena.”

  “Being squished in my bed is very comforting,” she assured them.

  “Where will we live?” Flo asked.

  “The day after the funeral, the solicitor will read the will. I’m sure Lushing has provided for us. And there is always a chance that things could turn out very different from what you’re expecting.”

  “How?” The bed shifted, and she was fairly certain Connie had sat up with her question. “What are you talking about?”

  “She could be with child,” Flo answered. “And if it’s a boy, it would be Lushing’s heir and nothing would change at all. It won’t matter when we have our Seasons. We’ll still be associated with a great dynasty and men will flock around us.”

  She had the rather maudlin thought that men should flock around them for themselves. They were smart, clever, and witty. Each had her own talents and interests. Why should the title with which they were associated or the residences in which they resided make a difference as to how they were perceived?

  Aiden Trewlove had begun life cast aside with not so much as a farthing handed to him—and yet he’d worked hard to make something of himse
lf, something to be admired. He was kind and liked to have fun. And his laugh, dear God, his laugh could lift the foulest of moods. He was a bastard, no man’s son, and yet still found it within him to laugh. And for a short time, he’d made her forget she was a widow. Then he had comforted her with more sincerity than she’d heard today from those who’d come to express their regrets and she suspected she’d hear from others on the morrow.

  “Are you with child?” Alice whispered as though saying the words aloud would prevent them from being true.

  “It’s possible. Too soon to tell.”

  “Lushing would be pleased.”

  “Only if it’s a boy,” Connie said. “Society cares only about heirs.”

  “I care about girls,” Selena said. “I care about all of you. I love you dearly.”

  And because she did, she’d do anything necessary to see them happy and well situated.

  Chapter 9

  Walking into the Mermaid and Unicorn was always a bit like coming home, and the atmosphere of the tavern had everything to do with Aiden’s sister Gillie. She’d worked hard to make the place a sanctuary for those facing hardships or in need of respite after long hours of laborious work. The tables ranged from the small square ones that seated four to the lengthy ones that would accommodate more than a dozen. Benches and chairs provided rest for weary bodies, and when those weren’t available an elbow planted on the counter in front of the barrels and taps sufficed to provide refuge, especially as Gillie spent most of her time behind it, constantly offering a willing ear to those who had troubles to whine about or joys in need of celebrating.

  The rush of people popping in for a pint and a midday meal had passed so Aiden didn’t have to jostle through a crowd to make his way to the polished wood that fairly gleamed his reflection. One of Gillie’s girls smiled and winked at him. If he were an ordinary customer, she’d have greeted him with “What’s your pleasure, treasure?” But since she was well aware of who he was, she knew Gillie was already pouring his pint. It was waiting for him when he reached the bar.

 

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