Dukes Are Forever

by Bec McMaster

  No longer a crop of frightened debutantes turning to Adele in the powder rooms of every ball and begging for help.

  Adele looked into her teacup.

  The Society had given her a sense of purpose in recent times. It helped ease the boredom of her days of constant tea parties, shopping expeditions, and wondering precisely what kind of woman her husband's new mistress was.

  A Mrs. Danner someone had told her.

  Presumably to replace the baroness, who'd been at his side for years, before her death several months ago.

  No matter where she looked, it was clear her husband preferred the company of other women to her.

  "I never thought I'd love someone as much as I love Will, but I cannot describe the feeling of being a mother," Lena continued. "It's like Alex's entire being lights up when I walk into a room. It's a lovely feeling."

  "I'm sure it is."

  Lena's smile faded. "Oh, Adele. I'm so sorry. That was unforgivable of me."

  "Nonsense. You're entitled to your happiness. Please don't hide it from me just because I shall never know the same."

  "You never know," Lena argued. "Sometimes I see the duke looking at you when he thinks you're not aware of his gaze. You might be surprised."

  "Does his expression look a little like this?" Adele mimicked her husband's haughty, somewhat displeased expression, and then added a good dose of disgust for good measure.

  Somehow her eyes ended up crossed.

  Lena burst into laughter. "You almost had it until the end. Malloryn doesn't dislike you."

  "You're right," she mocked. "That would require emotions and as far as I know, my husband doesn't suffer from them. How frightfully plebeian."

  "He looks at you as though he doesn't quite know what to do with you."

  That's because he doesn't.

  I don't even know what to do with me.

  Adele's gaze strayed to Alex as her smile faded. She toyed with the ring on her finger—her wedding ring.

  Alex's hair had recently all fallen out, and Lena didn't bother with a bonnet inside, but something in Adele's chest gave a small squeeze at the sight of him. The baby adored his mother unconditionally.

  What would it be like to be the focus of someone's world like that? To be loved, no matter what you had done or what type of person you were? She had little doubt about her own nature. People found her cynical and somewhat cold, but it was all she knew, the only way she had of surviving as a young woman.

  "But then, I suppose we're not to speak of the expression on your face when Malloryn enters a room?" Lena added.

  Adele's fingers froze on her ring. "What sort of expression?"

  Lena patted Alex's back as she swayed to and fro, her eyes dark with sympathy. "Your spine goes stiff, your shoulders straighten, and you look like you're girding yourself for war. 'Scale this tower at your own risk. Nobody can touch me in here.'"

  "That's because I'd rather lock myself away like Rapunzel than suffer my husband's presence."

  Lena's voice softened. "Is that entirely true? I'm your dearest friend, Adele. I know you. I can see how much he vexes you."

  "That's precisely the point: Why would I want his attention when it irritates me so much?"

  "Do you know what I think? I think you want him to vex you. I think you want him to look your way and press his attentions."

  "I think I would rather eat a cockroach."

  "Do you know the most surprising aspect of being made verwulfen?"

  The abrupt switch in conversation made Adele suspicious. "What?"

  Lena's eyes narrowed as she leaned forward. "I can actually smell your nervousness when you lie. You're lying to me right now. And to yourself."

  Maybe it was true.

  And who else did she have to discuss this with?

  The memories were eating away at her.

  "There was an incident between us," she suddenly blurted. "At the Ivory Tower four months ago, when the queen was nearly assassinated."

  "What sort of incident?"

  "Someone had shot Malloryn—not that I blame them. Entirely. He has that effect. But he was bleeding so much. And I.... It's not the first time I've given blood to a blue blood. I just thought.... I couldn't just leave him there."

  "You gave blood to an injured blue blood?" Lena's eyes widened. "Adele!"

  "I know." She slammed the ring back on her finger. "It's the first thing we're warned against as debutantes. An injured blue blood is at the mercy of his craving. They're no longer entirely in control of themselves."

  "He didn't hurt you, did he?" Bronze flashed in Lena's eyes as her own passion roused. To be verwulfen meant being subject to your emotions, and if she thought Malloryn had harmed Adele, it was quite possible she'd go after him.

  Adele looked down into her lap, her cheeks heating. "No. It wasn't... like that."

  At all.

  She could still feel the press of Malloryn's lips to her throat. And the caress of his tongue. His hand on her breast, thumb rasping over her hardened nipple as he ground his hips between her thighs—

  "It wasn't just the bloodlust that roused," she blurted.

  Silence fell.

  Lena's pretty rosebud mouth had dropped open. "Did he—?"

  "No! He came back to his senses in time."

  "But it was clearly a passionate interlude."

  Adele squeezed her eyes shut. "He's never touched me like that before. He told me he never would. And I never wanted him to before that moment. But now, I cannot quite seem to forget it."

  "Oh, dear."

  "And then he disappeared for nearly a month, with a letter telling me not to worry. Nothing to bother myself over. But when he returned... it was as though nothing had ever happened between us. He avoids me. I avoid him." She curled her fingers into fists. "But I wish to God he'd never touched me. Because now I know he is not merely made of ice. I was content with our agreement before then. I would have remained content. But now I know. And it is torture."

  "Aha."

  "Aha, what?"

  "That's why I catch him looking at you so often with that indecipherable look on his face." Lena eased onto the sofa before her, placing her hand over the top of Adele's. "So what are you going to do about it?"

  "Going to do? Why, nothing. Malloryn despises me."

  "That is not the Adele I know. She would be taking no prisoners. You should seduce him."

  "The Adele you know would prefer not to have her husband laugh in her face."

  "Did he seem disgusted when he realized what had occurred?"

  "Well, no. He seemed slightly horrified he may have hurt me. Then he lectured me about how dangerous it was. And then he realized the queen was under attack, and what happened may as well not have happened. I assure you, it hasn't cost him a moment of sleep."

  Lena frowned.

  "I told you: The man feels nothing." Adele shook her head. "You're my dearest friend. I know you want only the best for me, but trust me... there is no hope my husband desires me."

  "Was he aroused at the—?"

  "Yes, but I assume that was a product of the circumstances. Most blue bloods do rouse when their bloodlust rises."

  Alex gave a whimpering cry, screwing up his face as he gummed at Lena's chain.

  "Well, I still think there's a chance you could—"

  Alex promptly cast up his accounts all over his mother's gown. Adele jerked her skirts out of the way in surprise.

  "Oh, Alex." Lena gave an exasperated sigh, staring at the state of her gown. She rolled her eyes and transferred him to her other shoulder as the baby settled, evidently feeling much better.

  "Is he ill?"

  "No. He's a great big glutton, is what he is." Lena patted his back gently, her gaze softening as she looked at him. "It happens occasionally after he's fed."

  That sounded ghastly.

  And yet her friend still smiled. Adele couldn't quite understand it. "Perhaps I'd best take my leave and let you change. I've dwelled here long enough."
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  And she recognized the look in Lena's eyes.

  Her friend was not going to change the subject, not anytime soon.

  "Oh, it's no problem at all," Lena replied, raising her voice. "Nurse?"

  The door opened, and the nursemaid appeared. "Yes, mum?"

  "Could you please see Master Alex to the nursery? I believe he needs changing. I'll be along as soon as I've cleaned myself up."

  The nursemaid bobbed a curtsy. "Yes, mum."

  "I should go," Adele murmured. "Thank you for the tea and scones."

  Lena pointed a finger at her even as she bent to try and clean her hem. "Don't think I'll forget about this. I intend to pursue the topic."

  "Excellent." Adele fetched her hat from the table where she'd left it. "The very thought of my husband desiring me should prove humorous, if nothing else."

  And the idea of seducing him?

  Well, that was simply ludicrous.

  Adele stood on the portico of Lena's home and stared blindly at the gardens, still picturing the baby's face in her mind and the look of adoration on his face.

  I want one.

  What an utterly ridiculous instinct. Somehow she breathed out a laugh.

  "Fuck whomever you want, Adele, but don't bring any bastards home to my house. There are limits...."

  Which meant the only way she would ever conceive a child was with her husband.

  And that was never going to happen.

  Imagine even presenting Malloryn with such a proposition? She could almost picture the look of horror on his face, and despite herself, a faint smile tugged at her lips.

  "Aren't you maudlin today," she muttered to herself, shaking off the ill mood. "Feeling sorry for yourself is the least effective use of one's time. You made this decision, after all. And you can bear the consequences."

  Still smiling at Malloryn's imagined horror, Adele took her leave, walking into the brisk London air.

  Maybe she'd ask him for a child one day, just to see his eyes pop out of his head.

  She'd wait though, until his disinterest in her was really beginning to prickle....

  The taste of coal smog thickened the air, and she hurried to her carriage, clapping a hand to her black-feathered hat as the footman handed her up into it.

  In the gloom of the interior, it took her a moment to realize she wasn't alone as the door slammed shut.

  Chapter 3

  Speak of the devil and he shall appear....

  Adele clapped a hand to her chest in surprise as a pair of long legs stretched out in front of her, leading up to an opened newspaper.

  She would have gasped, but the golden signet ring on the man's finger was very familiar. She watched it every morning as her husband idly tapped the breakfast table whilst he flicked through the daily news, much as he was now.

  "Your Grace," she blurted. "What are you doing here?"

  The newspaper lowered, a pair of cool gray eyes assessing her.

  "I was in the area," Malloryn announced in the clipped tones he usually owned when speaking with her. "The coachman assured me you wouldn't be long."

  "Did you wish to speak with me?"

  "Not particularly." He rapped his cane on the roof. "Carry on, James."

  It shouldn't have stung as much as it did. She looked out the window as the carriage lurched into action. "I'm sorry I took the coach then."

  Malloryn leaned back in his seat, carefully folding his newspaper. "Do you make a habit of visiting the verwulfen ambassador's wife?"

  Oddly enough, he seemed more curious than anything. That would be a first. "She's my dearest friend. I come here most Wednesdays."

  "It's Friday."

  I was lonely. Instead she smoothed her skirts. Pull yourself together. It's just your husband.

  "Lena's planning a ball," she said with a noncommittal shrug. "She wanted my opinion on something."

  She'd never felt more uncomfortable in her life than she was trapped in a carriage with him. At least the dining table was over twenty feet long. Much easier to deal with him when they engaged but briefly over twenty feet of polished walnut, with the saltcellars and cutlery arranged between them, arrayed like soldiers in the field.

  Especially with the heat of Lena's foolish declarations echoing in her ears.

  Seduce him, indeed.

  "Going somewhere?" he asked.

  "I was on my way home."

  Her husband tapped the roof with his cane. "Malloryn Court."

  "You were going home too?"

  It was the middle of the day. He was rarely out of bed by now, his blue blood nature more prone to haunting the moonlit hours. Fashionable London didn't come alive until at least midafternoon, when the bloodthirsty aristocrats of the Echelon awoke and squinted fiercely at the glare of sunlight.

  Malloryn studied her before dropping his attention to where he began to tug at his gloves, one finger at a time. "I lied. We need to speak, Adele."

  The words froze her. Divorce? It wasn't unheard of, and Malloryn had made it quite clear this marriage wasn't to his satisfaction. An unpopular precedent, but he had the queen's ear. It could be arranged. And he wouldn't be affected by the scandal as badly as she would be.

  Maybe this was revenge.

  Maybe this was what he'd intended all along.

  What the hell would she do for her sister, Hattie, if the money dried up? She could take care of herself. Somehow. But Hattie was only seventeen and still legally under their parents' roof. If Adele couldn't come up with the money to pay her mother off, Lady Hamilton would sell the girl to the highest bidder.

  "Of course," she managed to say. "What would you like to speak of?"

  If he divorced her, she'd be shamed. Her parents would never take her back now. What would she do? Go to Lena? But Lena had her own husband, her own life.... Blood and ashes, she hated being beholden to someone like this.

  "—about time in a man's life to begin thinking of an heir...." His words finally penetrated, and she realized she'd frozen almost in terror.

  Then her mind caught up to what her ears had just heard.

  "An heir?" she blurted. He wanted to lie with her? To... to.... A baby? "With me?"

  Every single jesting thought she'd had earlier about proposing such a notion sprang immediately to mind.

  Only it wasn't Malloryn who was staring at her in horror, but vice versa.

  "You are my wife." His voice softened. "And you owe me a rather large debt, Adele. I have done my part in this farce. It is time for you to do yours."

  The word farce echoed in her ears. "Of course."

  "You don't have to look so aghast."

  "It's called surprise, Your Grace." She tried to regain her feet after he'd pulled the rug out from under her. "I thought you told me you'd never kiss me? Never summon me to your bed?"

  Dark, silky lashes flickered over his eyes. "Begetting an heir doesn't require kissing. Nor a bed, if one is being technically accurate."

  "I see."

  She couldn't help thinking of Devoncourt in that moment.

  The kiss she'd spurned because she owed more than she could possibly repay to the man sitting across from her.

  She wouldn't regret denying Devoncourt, though she couldn't help resenting the fact she wanted to replace that memory with one shared with her husband.

  It was not to be, of course.

  How unnecessary kissing was, it seemed.

  Even if a part of her ached for it.

  Even if she couldn't help wondering what her husband's kiss would taste like.

  He'd be an expert at it, no doubt. If there was one thing she could grant him, it was that Malloryn ruled his body with inherent grace. Each step he took was leonine in its intensity. Powerful. Controlled. He perfected everything he touched. He would not let the art of kissing escape his repertoire.

  "Nothing to say?" Malloryn mused.

  "Only that I am grateful not to be the recipient of your practiced attentions." She feigned a shudder. "It spares me the need to pret
end to enjoy them."

  Heat flashed in his gray eyes. Other than that he didn't move. "I thought you quite enjoyed kissing?"

  "What is that supposed to mean?" Her eyes narrowed.

  "Nothing."

  "And Mrs. Danner?" The words seemed to come from nowhere. "Your mistress?"

  Malloryn arched a brow. "What of her?"

  "I am not going to share my bed with two people," she somehow found herself saying. "If you're going to ask me to submit to this, then I hardly see why you should need her."

  "It's not a matter of need, so much as a matter of want."

  The words were like a knife to the chest. Mrs. Danner, the mysterious brunette she'd once caught a glimpse of, was evidently more to his tastes than his own wife.

  What did you expect?

  She stared furiously at her own hands. He had all the power in this relationship. Who was she to say he mustn't keep a mistress after the way they'd begun this blasted marriage?

  She was Adele Cavill, the Duchess of Malloryn. That was who.

  "Well, then you are going to be left wanting," she retorted, looking at him heatedly from beneath her lashes. The shock of his request was dissolving. Time to take matters into her hands. She'd learned enough over the years to know she wasn't going to simply lie back and surrender without a decent negotiation. There were things she wanted in life. "You want an heir? Then I want her gone."

  A considering look. "I shall see her pensioned off."

  "I also want an increase to my pin money," she added. Her mother's demands were growing shockingly vulgar of late, but paying the woman off was the only way to keep her younger sister, Hattie, safe.

  "Shall I double it?"

  "That's quite generous."

  "Anything else?"

  "Don't tempt me, Your Grace." Adele smiled through gritted teeth. "You may think me uncommonly mercenary for demanding such things, but you're not the one who is going to have to bear this."

  "Bear this?" For the first time, he seemed intrigued. "You think me an ogre?"

  Hardly that. He was stunningly, unfairly handsome. "I think I married a man who despises me and has no reason to be gentle with me. It's not the most pleasant of experiences, but I'm sure I will endure."