An Uncommon Duke
Laurie Benson
Confessions of a Regency duke…When the Duke of Winterbourne proposed to Olivia, she felt like the luckiest girl alive. Their happy marriage was the envy of the Ton. But all that changed when Gabriel wasn’t there the night Olivia gave birth to their son…Gabriel’s life is rooted in darkness and he’s learnt the hard way not to trust anyone with the truth. Yet, now, his wife wants to try for another child… and Gabriel must bare his secrets in order to bring Olivia back into his bed, and by his side for ever!
Confessions of a Regency duke...
When the Duke of Winterbourne proposed to Olivia, she felt like the luckiest girl alive. Their happy marriage was the envy of the ton. But all that changed when Gabriel wasn’t there the night Olivia gave birth to their son...
Gabriel’s life is rooted in darkness, and he’s learned the hard way not to trust anyone with the truth. Yet, now his wife wants to try for another child...and Gabriel must bare his secrets in order to bring Olivia back into his bed, and by his side, forever!
Secret Lives of the Ton
What Society doesn’t know...
Meet Julian Carlisle, the Duke of Lyonsdale, Gabriel Pearce, the Duke of Winterbourne, and Phineas Attwood, the Earl of Hartwick.
In the eyes of the ton, these three gentlemen are handsome, upstanding men who—mostly!—play by the rules. But what Society doesn’t know is that, behind closed doors, these three men are living scandalous lives and hiding scandalous secrets!
Read Julian’s story in
An Unsuitable Duchess
Already available
Read Gabriel’s story in
An Uncommon Duke
Available now
And read Hart’s story in
The Unexpected Countess
Coming soon!
Author Note (#ulink_e9b736e1-dc6f-5a21-b537-8d53fe92b9f0)
The idea for this story came to me after I learned about the possible assassination attempt of the Prince Regent that occurred on January 28, 1817, when he was returning from the opening of Parliament. Thinking about that event led me to imagine a second assassination attempt, taking place a year later, with other motives behind it. I know this isn’t a very romantic thing to think about when you’re beginning to write a romance novel, but that is where it all began.
Thank you for choosing to spend some time with An Uncommon Duke. I hope you enjoy Gabriel and Olivia’s story. For more information about my next book in the Secret Lives of the Ton mini-series, which features the Earl of Hartwick, please visit my website at lauriebenson.net (http://www.lauriebenson.net) for details. While you’re there, you can also find information about some of the other interesting historical titbits I uncovered while doing research for this book.
An Uncommon Duke
Laurie Benson
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
LAURIE BENSON is an award-winning historical romance author and Golden Heart® Award finalist. She began her writing career as an advertising copywriter, where she learned more than anyone could ever want to know about hot dogs and credit score reports. When she isn’t at her laptop avoiding laundry, Laurie can be found browsing museums or taking ridiculously long hikes with her husband and two sons. You can visit her at lauriebenson.net (http://www.lauriebenson.net).
Books by Laurie Benson
Mills & Boon Historical Romance
Secret Lives of the Ton
An Unsuitable Duchess
An Uncommon Duke
Visit the Author Profile page at millsandboon.co.uk. (http://millsandboon.co.uk).
Many thanks to my editor Kathryn Cheshire for your insightful input and encouraging words. And to Linda Fildew, Nic Caws, Krista Oliver and the rest of the Mills & Boon Historical team, thanks for all you’ve done to help bring Gabriel and Olivia’s story into the world.
To my agent, Courtney Miller-Callihan with Handspun Literary Agency, your generous spirit is a gift. Some day both of us will sleep past six in the morning. In the meantime, I toast you with my coffee.
Jen, Mia, Lori and Lisa, thank you for being such wonderful critique partners, beta readers and friends. For Marnee, Terry and Gareth, thanks for being there on those days when chocolate and coffee were of no help.
To my family, I’m sorry to say there are no unicorns, aliens or vampires in this book. Someday I’ll write a story about an alien vampire unicorn just for the three of you. In the meantime, know that your love and support mean the world to me.
For the kind people who helped me with my research, thanks for taking the time to answer my questions. And to those of you who shared unusual Regency era titbits and antiques with me because you thought I’d find them interesting, thank you. I hope you have fun seeing how I used those items in this story.
Contents
Cover (#u68667ff4-d22e-58ef-82c2-0a898b65d073)
Back Cover Text (#u42f47d88-ae44-5c2b-8419-9d038caef82f)
Introduction (#u3cf06961-6e56-511c-a1a6-3ab41ba26b27)
Author Note (#ulink_e73bf6ad-5c9b-5dfe-81d7-f83cfdd65959)
Title Page (#u5e27bf43-c295-5df7-88df-8ff9f5837a2c)
About the Author (#u24711155-92d5-51a6-800a-11f93eed6f01)
Dedication (#u92a73750-53b0-5123-8537-6e12a1200f67)
Chapter One (#ue67a91f3-1e14-5f0a-bca0-98da33ffc420)
Chapter Two (#u383830ce-00a5-51ba-9591-079d3c64765c)
Chapter Three (#ud8668098-2b21-509a-8379-5fbef909919b)
Chapter Four (#udb25dd45-a66f-52da-8858-05e25e9c7545)
Chapter Five (#u9467594b-65ba-5bac-b39a-659b177e30ad)
Chapter Six (#u5963fc57-2210-5879-b630-b0879a22d9ca)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_fde3b960-891e-52ca-a136-4e6981689cdb)
London, England—1818
Being shot at always left Gabriel Pearce, Duke of Winterbourne, in a foul mood. It didn’t matter that this time he wasn’t the intended target. It didn’t matter that he had saved the Prince Regent by tackling him to the floor of his coach. And, it didn’t matter that the shot had narrowly missed Gabriel. Being shot at was a nuisance that meant his orderly life would be thrown into chaos for the unforeseeable future.
Three hours after his coach had sped down the rutted country road, whisking the Prince Regent to the safety of Carlton House, Gabriel stood in his dressing room attempting to tie his cravat into a perfect Trône d’Amour. He had performed the task countless times. One would think he could do it in his sleep. Apparently, with the events of today playing out in his mind, one would be wrong.
Peering closer at his reflection in the mirror, he tore the linen from his neck. Bloody hell! There should be no ripples in the knot, only one dent! Hodges, his valet, immediately handed him another freshly starched neckcloth.
‘Just tie it into a waterfall and be done with it,’ his brother Andrew called out, walking into the room and dropping into the wingback chair beside the mirror.
‘Too plebeian,’ Gabriel bit out, his attention fixed on the task at hand.
‘That’s how I tie my cravats.’
Raking a critical gaze over Andrew’s brown tailcoat and the unimpressive shine to his shoes, Gabriel arched a brow.
‘Ho, I see now,’ Andrew said with a smirk. ‘Some day I will shock you and wear something you deem acceptable.’
‘If you would finally allow me to find you an acceptable valet, that might happen sooner rather than later.’
‘I’m quite content with the one I have, thank you. How many neckcloths have you handed my brother, Hodges?’
‘Six, my lord.’
Andrew sighed and studied the coffered ceiling. ‘Shall I wait in your study? If you continue on this path to perfection it might take some time and I could be enjoying your fine brandy while I wait.’
‘I’ll be but a moment. There is brandy by the window.’ Gabriel closed his eyes and managed to push all thoughts of gunshots, shattered glass and a frightened Prince Regent from his mind. Concentrating on each specific turn of the cloth, he finally tied a perfect knot.
Now he could attend to more important matters.
He nodded to Hodges, and the elderly man quietly left the brothers alone behind closed doors.
‘Please tell me we caught the blackguard,’ Gabriel said, accepting a glass of brandy.
Andrew dropped back into the chair and stretched out his long legs. ‘Spence jumped from his tiger’s perch the moment the shots were fired and caught the man. He was taken to the Tower—however, he refuses to talk.’
Gabriel took his first sip of brandy since returning home. The heat sliding down his throat did nothing to relieve the tight tension in his muscles. ‘We need to know if he was working alone. I don’t care what it takes. Make him talk.’
Andrew pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket and held it out. ‘My thought is he had assistance. We found this on him. I don’t believe our gunman had access to Prinny’s plans. Someone had to have given him this information.’
Scrawled in pencil were the date, the name of the road and town they had travelled to, as well as a sketch of Gabriel’s coat of arms. Apparently whoever had supplied the information to the gunman knew Prinny would be travelling with Gabriel today and knew where they’d be going. But how was that possible when Prinny had only approached Gabriel last evening about taking him to purchase the painting?
Bringing the paper to his nose, Gabriel sniffed the unfamiliar pungent oily scent mixed with tobacco. The letter ‘m’ had an interesting swirl to it, but other than that there was no way to identify the author. ‘There’s no cipher, so it appears we are dealing with an inexperienced lot.’
As he took another sip, he organised the information before him. He was the man ultimately responsible for protecting the Crown. Unrest was rampant throughout the country. If his people failed to protect King George and the Prince Regent, there was no telling what anarchy might occur.
‘How is Prinny faring?’ Andrew asked, interrupting his thoughts.
‘He is shaken but unharmed.’
‘And you?’
‘I have this scratch on my forehead from shattering glass and my right shoulder is a bit bruised. As you know, I’ve survived worse.’ He handed the paper back to Andrew. ‘Show this to Hart. He may be able to identify the smell. Then remain at the Tower and notify me when the gunman is broken. I need to know who else wants Prinny dead.’
Andrew stood and placed his glass on a nearby table. ‘Please give my regrets to Olivia and Nicholas. I’m sure you’ll devise a plausible excuse as to why I had to miss his breeching ceremony.’
Demmit! Nicholas would be devastated his favourite uncle wasn’t there for such a momentous occasion, but Andrew was the only person Gabriel trusted completely. He needed answers and Andrew would make certain he got them. He shook off the guilt trying to settle in his gut. ‘Make an appearance, but slip away shortly after the ceremony begins.’
‘Very well, I will send word when we know more.’
‘And watch your back.’
‘I always do.’
Glancing at the ormolu clock on the mantel, Gabriel let out a curse. He was late. Now he would have to endure the customary icy demeanour of his wife. Tonight they might even be forced to actually hold a conversation. He took another sip of brandy, bracing himself for an encounter with the woman he had married.
* * *
Olivia, Duchess of Winterbourne, bounced her nephew on her knee and stole another glance at the longcase clock beside the drawing room door. The breeching ceremony should have begun twenty minutes ago. Her son was eager to take this first step towards manhood. How much longer would Gabriel keep them waiting?
She shifted her attention to her mother-in-law, who sat nearby talking with Olivia’s mother. When their eyes met, the Dowager gave her a slight sympathetic smile.
The sofa Olivia was sitting on dipped as her sister, Victoria, leaned closer. ‘Do you think he forgot?’
‘What man forgets his own son’s breeching?’ Olivia rubbed her forehead and prayed her husband was not such a man. ‘Mr James is a reliable secretary. I’m certain he reminded Gabriel of the occasion.’
‘Perhaps Mr James was unclear of the time.’
Olivia had reminded him of the time during their daily meeting that morning. This delay fell directly on Gabriel’s shoulders. She would give him five more minutes. Then she would ring for Bennett to locate him. It should be of no surprise to her that he was late. She had learned long ago Gabriel only thought of himself. ‘I’m certain Mr James relayed the correct time.’
‘Do you truly not speak at all now?’
‘Being in his presence is still a constant reminder of what he did. It’s best if I avoid him.’
‘Mother taught us to expect nothing from the men we marry. She always said that to them we are simply means to an heir. You should have listened to her,’ Victoria said gently.
Their mother knew first-hand how true those statements were and Olivia had never expected more. Their father married their mother to create a political alliance with Olivia’s grandfather, the Duke of Strathmore. He had never shown any interest in his wife as a person and their brother had followed suit with his wife. When he’d sought the Marquess of Haverstraw for Victoria, it was because the man had lands bordering their family’s Wiltshire estate. And he could not have been more pleased when the Duke of Winterbourne, a favourite of the Prince Regent, had shown an interest in Olivia. His pleasure had nothing to do with his daughter’s feelings on the matter. Not once had he discussed Gabriel with her before or after he consented to the marriage.
But Gabriel had taken her by surprise. This was a man who listened to her—really listened to her opinions and interests. To have the complete attention of a man who was that handsome and powerful had been intoxicating.
After having courted her for a month, he gave her the consideration of asking her for her hand before approaching her father. Foolishly she fell in love with him and believed some day he would grow to love her in return. But he never did.
‘You cannot direct your heart’s actions,’ she said to Victoria. If she could, Olivia would have saved herself many tearful nights.
‘I never understood why your heart became so engaged. The two of you fought quite regularly.’
‘We did not. When did you ever witness such behaviour?’
‘Usually during dinner.’
‘A discussion of contrasting opinions is not an argument.’
‘I would find such interaction with Haverstraw tiresome.’ She held her arms out towards her son. ‘I can take Michael from you. I fear he has become rather heavy.’
Olivia bounced Michael higher, pleased she was able to make him giggle. ‘Nonsense, he is a feather. I remember when I could pick Nicholas up this easily. Now he will have his ringlets cut and leave behind his gowns to don skeleton suits.’
As she rubbed her nose against Michael’s fuzzy blond head, he grasped a tendril of hair resting along her neck. ‘How I miss the smell of a baby.’
‘Should you hold him after he’s eaten, you might change your opinion.’
Olivia grinned in understanding.
Then, she felt it.
Even though she had tried to ignore the sensation, somehow she always knew when Gabriel entered a room. It was as if a ribbon was tied from one end of him directly to her.
His tall, broad frame obstructed the view beyond the doorway and his unruffled demeanour told her he was unaware he delayed the ceremony—or, perhaps, he didn’t care.
As if he felt the invisible connection as well, his unreadable hazel eyes found her and he nodded politely. He surveyed the room, his square jaw and carved features remaining impassive, until he spied Nicholas looking out the window with Gabriel’s brother, Monty. Only then did his lips curve into a smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle.
She forced herself to look away. Years ago, that smile was given only to her, and it would always make her heart swell. Now, whenever she witnessed it, her heart would squeeze painfully.
Gabriel paid his respects to their mothers before advancing across the room to where Olivia sat. His eyes softened briefly when they settled on Michael, who was shoving his entire chubby fist into his own small mouth.
‘Duchess, Lady Haverstraw, I hope you’re both well.’
The brandy on his breath told Olivia how he had been occupying himself while their families waited patiently for his arrival. ‘Thank you, we are. I dare say I thought you might have been feeling poorly since you arrived so late, but I see you were relaxing with some brandy while we were debating on how long we could occupy the children before they began climbing the curtains,’ she said in the sweetest tone she could muster.
‘Forgive me. Urgent business kept me occupied until now. Had I been able to disengage myself and join you here, I would have.’
As he turned his head and watched Andrew approach Nicholas, Olivia noticed a thin red line over his left brow.
‘Did you injure yourself getting dressed today?’
He began spinning the gold intaglio ring on his pinkie. ‘I rode into a low-hanging branch in the park this morning.’
The only other time she’d witnessed him fidget with that ring was when he’d stood at the side of her bed after Nicholas was born—before she threw him out of her room. ‘I imagine you would like to say a few words before the ceremony begins.’
He stared blankly at her for a fleeting moment. ‘Of course.’
‘Very well, while you collect your thoughts, I’ll inform Nicholas we are finally able to begin.’ She placed her nephew in Victoria’s arms. As she stood, another whiff of brandy filled her nose. He was making it very difficult for her to resist the urge to step on his foot as she sauntered past him.
* * *
Once the carriages of her last few guests had departed down the drive, Olivia returned to the Green Drawing Room to find her mother-in-law seated on a sofa watching Gabriel and Nicholas build a house of cards across the room. Gabriel’s muscular form was stretched out across the Aubusson rug, while he supported himself on his elbow. She recalled the last time she had seen him reclining in such a casual pose. It was six years ago on a rug in her bedchamber. Squeezing her eyelids shut, she tried to force the image from her mind.
She needed wine. Unfortunately there was only tea. Heading to the table with the cups, Olivia looked at Gabriel’s mother. ‘Would you care for more tea, Catherine?’
‘If you are having another cup...I recall how trying it was to prepare for this occasion. Tea will be just the thing.’
Olivia handed Catherine a cup and poured another for herself, resisting the urge to steal another glance at Gabriel. It would be close to impossible to endure his presence much longer. Resentment rippled through her and tea would never relieve it.
‘Your sister’s youngest is beautiful,’ Catherine said, shifting so Olivia could sit next to her. ‘Watching you with him reminded me of how you would play with Nicholas when he was an infant. Now look at him. In those clothes and with his hair cut, he looks like a small version of his father and his uncles.’ She studied Olivia over the rim of her cup. ‘Soon he will be able to attend Eton.’
Olivia’s heart stopped. Gabriel wouldn’t do that to her. Would he? ‘Has your son mentioned something to you about sending him away to school?’
‘You’re the mother of his heir. Haven’t the two of you discussed plans for his education yet?’
Olivia shook her head. ‘I assumed he would continue to be tutored at home like his father until he was ready to attend Cambridge.’ Glancing at Gabriel, she wondered if he had other plans.
‘Perhaps. However, you’ll not know for certain unless the two of you discuss it.’ Catherine gave an appraising stare before turning her attention to her son and grandson. ‘My husband would build houses out of cards with the boys when they were children. Oh, how he would dote on them.’
She envied the woman. While the memories of the first year of her own marriage were quite lovely, there were none since Nicholas was born. Glancing back at the rug, she watched the playful interaction between father and son. Olivia knew Gabriel loved Nicholas. She just didn’t want to witness it.
‘Nicholas needs a brother.’
The sip of tea she had taken almost left by way of Olivia’s nose. Her coughing was so fitful that the occupants on the rug looked her way.
‘Are you all right, Mama?’ Nicholas asked with a wrinkled brow that indeed made him look like a small version of the man next to him.
Nodding her head, Olivia tried to stop the spasms in her throat. When the coughing had subsided and the burning in her nose had lessened, she delicately wiped her eyes.
‘Gabriel needs another son,’ Catherine reiterated.
Well, Olivia knew that was not about to happen—unless she had an immaculate conception. She would never allow Gabriel in her bed again. ‘Nicholas is a healthy boy. We already have our heir.’
‘Life holds no guarantees. It is wise to plan for unfortunate occurrences. This family is known for its unbroken line of boys. It should not be difficult for you to have another.’
Olivia refused to look at her mother-in-law. A sharp pain sliced her heart at the thought of the death of her precious boy.
‘Certainly you and Gabriel have discussed having more children.’
‘Oh, we’ve discussed it,’ muttered Olivia, taking a fortifying sip.
‘Then it’s simply a matter of nature taking its course?’
‘You could say that.’
The realisation that she would have no more children felt like someone had carved out a chunk of her heart. If Gabriel did intend to send Nicholas away to school, there would be another tremendous void in her life that nothing would fill. And then she would be alone with no one to love.
* * *
The flames of the candles flickered as Olivia walked towards Nicholas and Gabriel. ‘It is time for bed, my love,’ she said, approaching Nicholas’s side.
Gabriel recalled hearing those words before. It was the last night he had found release inside a woman—the last time he had bedded his wife. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from dwelling on the image of Olivia lying under him, with her soft legs squeezing his sides. All these years of frustration had done nothing to quell his desire for her.
‘Look at our fierce fortress, Mama. It’s almost as tall as me.’
‘Very impressive indeed. I commend your steady hand.’
Nicholas turned his large hazel eyes to Gabriel. ‘Do I truly have to go to bed, Papa? I want to stay awake as long as you do. I am almost a man, you know.’
Gabriel glanced at Olivia to gauge her reaction. Her head was angled down towards Nicholas, obscuring her features. Instinctively, his attention was drawn to the swell of her lovely breasts, hidden in the lemon-coloured satin folds of her gown. How he wished he could trace the curve of one breast over to the next. He curled his fingers into a fist to stop the aching. Being this close to her was always torture. ‘If your mother says it’s time for bed, you must obey. However, we cannot leave our fortress unattended. Why don’t you knock it down before the enemy attacks it while we slumber?’
‘Oh, that is an excellent notion.’
Gabriel imagined the sound emanating from his son was something close to the war cry issued by the Indians across the Atlantic when they rode into battle. ‘Well done, Nicholas. Now give us a hug.’
His son threw his arms around Gabriel’s neck and squeezed tight. When Nicholas relaxed his grip, his wide grin highlighted his two missing front teeth. ‘Goodnight, Papa. Thank you again for my prime bit of blood.’
Olivia smothered a laugh behind her hand at the exact moment Gabriel bit his lip to stop his. Their eyes met for an instant before she looked away.
‘Who taught you that?’ Gabriel asked, before holding up his hand. ‘Never mind, I think I know which uncle it was. That is not the way a future duke refers to his horse.’
‘Uncle Andrew told me my horse is a real sweet goer. He says for a gentleman to be a bang-up cove he needs to have a prime bit of blood the other gents would want to ride. He said I shouldn’t name him something a chit would, nothin’ flowery and such. Did you know some day I’ll be able to ride him in a foxhunt? A real hunt! Uncle Andrew says he will take me. I will skip my lessons for the day and he will take me on a foxhunt! Will you take me riding, Papa? Can I ride my horse tomorrow?’
It was a miracle his son was not out of breath. ‘Perhaps we could go riding in Hyde Park before breakfast.’
His son’s eyes widened with anticipation.
‘But you must rise early,’ Gabriel continued. ‘I have many things that require my attention and a gentleman always fulfils his responsibilities. Will you be able to rise with the sun?’
Nicholas threw his arms around Gabriel again. ‘Oh, yes! Oh, yes! I promise, I will be awake before you.’
Gabriel hugged his son tightly. It was always difficult to disengage his arms from the one person who meant more to him than anyone.
His son jumped back and turned to Olivia. ‘Oh, Mama, did you hear that? Papa is taking me riding tomorrow.’
‘Yes, I heard. I dare say you and Buttercup will make such a sight.’ Her lip twitched, giving away the mischief behind the serious tone of her voice.
Nicholas’s features hardened, making him look older than his five years. ‘I cannot be calling my prime bit o’ blood Buttercup. Uncle Andrew said I need to name him somethin’ fierce.’
Olivia chewed her lower lip and appeared to give his comment great consideration. ‘Oh, you mean like Rosebush.’
He scrunched up his round face. ‘Rosebush? That’s not fierce.’
‘Have you ever been pricked by a thorn? I assure you, rosebushes are quite fierce.’
Nicholas shifted his gaze between his parents. ‘Is she sincere?’
Gabriel stood and caught Olivia’s eye before giving Nicholas a slight shrug. ‘Your mama is a girl. Girls do not understand manly ideas,’ he teased. ‘We shall find a very noble name for your steed.’
‘Uncle Andrew said I should name him Cazznoah. I told him that was a silly name and he just laughed. Cazznoah is a silly name, isn’t it, Papa?’
Gabriel closed his eyes and took a breath. ‘Yes, Nicholas, Casanova is a silly name for a horse.’
Olivia cleared her throat and caught his eye. Her disapproving glare at his brother’s suggestion spoke volumes. Andrew always did like to have a bit of fun at Gabriel’s expense, but telling their son he should name his horse after a man who was known for seducing women crossed the line. Obviously Olivia agreed. It didn’t take words for him to see she disapproved.
‘Please bid your grandmama goodnight, Nicholas,’ she said, turning him away from Gabriel. ‘She would be disappointed if she did not get to wish you sweet dreams.’
Following the intimate picture of Olivia and Nicholas as they left the room, Gabriel stared at the doorway. How much longer would he have to wait for news of the interrogation?
His thoughts drifted to a stormy night long ago, when his body was chilled from the drenching rain that did nothing to wash away the sickening smell of blood from the air. He swore to himself that would never happen again. Andrew could be trusted and, God willing, he would be coming back.
Adjusting his cuffs, he walked towards his mother. ‘Are you certain Andrew was not given to you by gypsies as an infant?’
She laughed and handed him a cup of tea. ‘I do suppose that would explain many things, but I assure you he was not. What a pity he couldn’t stay because he was feeling poorly. I believe I’ll call on him tomorrow to see if he’s improved.’
He sat down beside her. The idea of their mother fussing over Andrew, when his brother detested the attention, made it difficult to hold back his grin. Unfortunately he knew circumstances forced him to dissuade her. ‘I happen to know the bounder is suffering from the ill effects of a questionably spent afternoon.’ Now, at least, he could amuse himself imagining the lecture that would be given the next time his brother encountered their mother.
Taking a slow sip of tea, Gabriel closed his eyes and savoured the delicate flavour. He must remember to have James inform Olivia it was an exceptional blend.
‘I spoke with Olivia about your need for another child.’
The coughing began in the back of his throat and rapidly moved to his nose. Was there a full moon, or was some other natural occurrence causing illogical things to happen today?
‘What possessed you to do that?’ he asked when he finally stopped choking.
‘Well, it is about time you had another child.’ His mother arched a regal eyebrow, which still had the ability to make him squirm. ‘Come now, you can’t believe that having only one son is a wise decision with the responsibility your title holds.’
‘More than anyone I understand the responsibility entrusted to me. I also know I have brothers who may have sons should it come to that.’
Narrowing her eyes, she placed her cup down. ‘It is not the same and you know it. You need more sons and you need to do something about it.’
He shook his head at the unusually demanding nature of his mother. ‘What possessed you to bring this to my attention?’
‘You are thirty-two. Your wife is twenty-six. Soon you both will run out of time. I do not understand this hesitation you both have.’
Gabriel took a deep breath. His mother had told the one woman on earth Gabriel was certain would never let him touch her that they needed to have sex. It’s a wonder his mother wasn’t wearing her tea. But then again Olivia was always perfectly composed when other people were present. Alone, he discovered, she could be a hellcat.
‘You made your opinions known to Olivia?’
‘I simply stated there was a need for the required second son.’
‘And what was her reaction to your subtle suggestion?’
His mother hesitated before she took a small sip from her cup. ‘I do not recall,’ she mumbled.
The strip of linen tightened around his throat and he wished it were possible to begin his day all over again. Of course he wanted another child. The memories of his childhood were filled with times he had spent with his brothers. He wanted Nicholas to have that, too, but it was no longer possible. Years ago he’d resigned himself to that fact. ‘I know you have the best intentions, but please do not interfere.’
Even though he wanted another child, Gabriel knew Olivia would never want him to get close enough to her to accomplish it. That part of his life had passed.
Chapter Two (#ulink_270ea908-182a-5949-bd6b-958ab23ecd50)
From the doorway to the Blue Drawing Room in Carlton House, Gabriel could see the round table in the centre of the room was set for Prinny’s breakfast. And for one man eating alone, there was enough food and drink to easily satisfy four people.
As Gabriel crossed the threshold he was taken aback when the burly Prince Regent pulled him into a hug. The man squeezed Gabriel’s rib cage, making it difficult to breathe. Disengaging himself from Prinny, Gabriel placed him at a distance, only to be grabbed again into another firm hug.
When Prinny finally released him, he slapped Gabriel on the right shoulder—the very one bruised from being slammed against the carriage wall the day before. Gabriel held back a groan.
‘Leave us,’ Prinny instructed the four footmen, dressed in blue livery with gold lace, who were posted around the table.
The men filed out quietly, the last one closing the door behind him.
‘I owe you my life, Winter. You protected me with your own person. Bravery and loyalty such as yours is uncommon. You do your father proud.’
Another tight embrace followed and this time Prinny’s large meaty hand clamped down on Gabriel’s sore shoulder. Bloody hell! He didn’t know how much more appreciation he could take.
‘I am simply relieved you were unharmed. Please know I’m aware restricting your movements to Carlton House will not be easy for you, but I firmly believe, for now, it’s the safest place for you.’
Prinny returned to his breakfast and unceremoniously dropped into a blue-velvet chair. With a wave of his hand he motioned for Gabriel to join him. ‘Would you care for anything? If none of this food is to your liking, I will have my kitchen make whatever you desire.’
‘Thank you, but I’ve already eaten.’
‘Then a drink, perhaps?’
There were numerous bottles scattered across the table containing wine, champagne and brandy. Prinny appeared to be imbibing all of them. Gabriel shook his head, knowing he needed to keep his mind sharp.
Prinny resumed cutting into his pie. ‘I don’t understand why you want me to remain here. There no longer is a threat to my life. Your note said the scoundrel had been apprehended.’
‘He was. However I believe he had assistance orchestrating your demise. I’ve come from the Tower and they have not yet been able to get the gunman to admit to anything.’
Prinny dropped his fork with a clatter and reached for his glass of champagne. His hand shook as he brought it to his lips. ‘So you truly believe there is someone walking around England who still intends to murder me?’ He drained the entire glass.
‘I do and that is why it is imperative you remain here where you are under guard at all times.’
‘Very well,’ Prinny replied on a sigh, ‘but you must find this person without delay. Devonshire is hosting a ball soon, it’s reported Mrs Siddons will return to the stage to perform in Douglas at Drury Lane and I hear the new exhibition at the Royal Academy will be stunning. If I remain here too long, I shall miss all the fun.’
‘I will do my best to ensure this is handled as quickly as possible. Since the threat could have come from anywhere, I think it prudent if you limit your visitors to an approved list of people.’
‘Nonsense, no one visiting here would wish me harm.’
If only life were that predictable. ‘Tell me about the gentleman you purchased the painting from. He appeared surprised to see you.’
‘I imagine he was. He expected one of my agents to purchase it for me.’
‘It would help if you could recall mentioning our outing to anyone. The gunman was carrying a drawing of my coat of arms.’
Pouring himself more champagne, Prinny appeared to give the question serious consideration. But after a few moments, he shook his head. ‘I might have mentioned it in passing to a few people during Skeffington’s musical. Capital evening. Selections from The Marriage of Figaro. You should have been there.’
‘Opera does not appeal to me,’ Gabriel said off-handedly. ‘Who did you tell?’
Prinny shrugged and took another drink. ‘Don’t recall, don’t you know. Talked with so many people and the champagne was flowing. Astonishingly I didn’t have the devil of a headache the next day. But that was before I asked you to join me.’
To steady his exasperation, Gabriel looked up at the massive crystal chandelier and concentrated on the red and blue coloured flecks dancing in the sunlight. If only Prinny didn’t like to brag so. ‘And your household...who knew I’d be taking you in my carriage?’
‘I informed Bloomfield that morning, but he is trustworthy.’
Gabriel knew Prinny’s equerry. He appeared as loyal to Prinny as Gabriel was. Nevertheless, he would assign someone to watch the man. ‘Very well, I shall let you know the minute you are safe to leave this building.’
‘You don’t expect me to remain inside on a rare day such as this? The sun is shining. Surely I can enjoy the gardens.’
There was a tightness forming between Gabriel’s eyebrows and he pinched the bridge of his nose to transfer his attention to a new discomfort. Why did it feel like dealing with Prinny was the same as handling his young son? He leaned forward and folded his hands on the table. ‘Your gardens share a wall with St James’s Park. It would be very simple for someone to reach you, if you were out there.’
Prinny let out a snort before pouring the remaining contents of the champagne bottle into his glass.
Gabriel rubbed his eyes. He needed to return home where he didn’t have to deal with anyone who was irrational. At least at home his life was predictable.
* * *
When Olivia entered the nursery that morning, she found Nicholas restless in his lessons with his new tutor. All he wanted to talk about was his ride through Hyde Park on his new pony. He told her how his father had taken them onto Rotten Row where he saw numerous well-dressed gentlemen out for their morning rides. He wanted to know when he would be old enough to wear a beaver hat of his own.
He was growing up.
For the first time, she noticed the little dimples that kissed the knuckles of his hands were disappearing. And Gabriel might be considering sending him away to school—or, worse yet, Nicholas would ask to go.
Olivia’s heart sank with the weight of how much she would miss him.
* * *
For the remainder of the morning she thought about how wonderful it felt to hold her nephew. By the afternoon she desperately wanted another child to cuddle and love.
But in order to have that child, she would have to ask her husband to come to her bed.
And she would be forced to endure his company.
Five years ago she told him she could never bear to feel his touch again. If she wanted this, she would have to lower herself to go back on her word to him.
This wasn’t something she could tell his secretary to pass on to him when he next saw Gabriel. Mr James would have an apoplexy on the spot. It also wasn’t something she could pass along to her maid. Colette would be setting out Olivia’s thinnest nightrail and placing rose petals on her bed before he would have even agreed to her request.
Perhaps she should write him a note.
After many drafts, some ridiculous and some obscene, Olivia decided to simply request a meeting. If she could focus her appeal on the need for another child they could avoid discussing how the child would get there.
And maybe that would help scrape the image of naked bodies and intimate conversations from her brain.
* * *
It was four in the afternoon when Olivia received word from Colette that Gabriel was available to see her. Standing outside the massive door to his private study, she pressed her hand against her stomach. What if Gabriel did not want another child? Or, suppose he no longer found her desirable enough to bed? She would never be able to face him again.
The answers she needed would not be found in the hall. She raised her chin, knowing she would regret it for the rest of her days if she didn’t ask him for this. Her courageous side rallied, her knock echoed off the oak panel.
The deep rumble of his voice was audible from within as he bid her to enter. Her heart began to pound and she glanced down, praying it wasn’t visible through the gauzy fichu tucked into her dress. She rubbed her sweaty palms down her skirt and turned the handle. Upon entering the impressive room, she spotted Mr James standing before Gabriel’s desk awaiting a document her husband was sealing. Once the paper was in his hand, Mr James turned to face her and bowed. He appeared nervous, but she found that whenever Mr James was in the same room with Olivia and Gabriel, he always seemed as if he couldn’t wait to leave.
‘Good day, Mr James,’ she said, smiling congenially.
He greeted her with a pleasant reply before excusing himself. The click when the door closed reverberated around Gabriel’s private sanctuary. There was no turning back.
For the first time in years, they were alone. Suddenly the generously sized room felt much too small and she was certain he could hear her uneven breathing from across the room.
They stood there staring at each other for what felt like an eternity. Then Gabriel moved out from behind his desk. Her heart hiccupped. He painted a handsome picture with his perfect posture and his fit frame impeccably encased in an expertly fitted Delft-blue tailcoat with a champagne-coloured embroidered waistcoat underneath. Buff trousers and highly polished top boots covered his muscular legs and his light brown hair looked slightly tousled, as if he had been running his hand through it as he worked at his desk.
At his suggestion, they took a seat in the two chairs placed in front of one of the long windows that overlooked the street. As he fixed an expectant gaze on her, she silently debated how to begin.
‘I suppose you’re wondering what it is I wish to discuss with you?’
He sat completely still, the picture of civility and physical perfection. ‘I have some idea.’
‘You do?’ she asked, unable to hide her surprise. Had his mother spoken to him as well? From his sober expression it did not appear he was going to be amiable to her request.
‘This is regarding last evening, is it not?’
Olivia’s heart was jumping in her chest. ‘It is. I have thought about this quite a bit and believe it is our duty.’
Gabriel nodded thoughtfully. ‘The duty lies with me. I will see to it. I expect it to be an exasperating task, but I agree it must be done.’
Did he really say making love to her would be exasperating?
‘I assure you, I will find absolutely no pleasure in the task,’ she replied drily.
‘That is why it’s best done quickly.’ At the clopping sound of horses riding by, Gabriel shifted his attention out the window. ‘It’s a logical request to make. I suppose it was inevitable.’
Inevitable and exasperating—this is how he described bedding her! It took enormous restraint not to rail at him. The point was to have another child. If she had to endure this insufferable man to do so, she needed to disguise her anger. She refused to let him see that his words had any effect on her. In that, she could be in complete control.
She stood rather abruptly, needing to get away before she did something rash—such as kick him in the only area of his that she needed.
‘The sooner we attend to this, the better. I will see to it this evening.’ He stood and walked her to the door, unaware how perilously close he was to having his head knocked into it.
* * *
The moment Olivia left his study Gabriel was able to breathe normally. Being close to her always left him restless, as if his body were fighting the knowledge that he was better off without her.
After pouring himself a glass of brandy, he returned to his desk and put his feet up. Their meeting had gone better than he’d anticipated. He knew only something of great importance would compel her to request an audience.
He considered various scenarios before recalling last night. It was no surprise she wanted to address it. He was impressed she thought they should do it together. However talking with Andrew about what was improper to say to Nicholas fell solely on his shoulders. He would be the one to explain to his brother that it was not appropriate for a boy of five to call his horse Casanova. Nicholas would be Winterbourne some day. He needed to begin learning now what it meant to embody the respectable title.
Yes, a talk with his brother was in order. It also gave him the opportunity to hear how the interrogation was progressing.
Chapter Three (#ulink_7819741e-0312-5c52-ae82-b73eb2471a00)
As the melodic sounds of the orchestra filled the crowded ballroom of Devonshire House, Olivia stepped through the movements of the quadrille without hearing a single note. Since her conversation with Gabriel, she wondered if she had made the right decision in approaching him about having another child. Oh, she still desperately wanted another child, but after his reaction to her request, she wasn’t certain she could bear to be in his company long enough to conceive one.
He had been horrid—and his comments continued to pierce her heart.
I expect it to be an exasperating task, but it must be done.
The sooner we attend to this, the better.
If she had any hope of having another child, she needed to lock away her contempt for him. Maybe then the thought of Gabriel touching her wouldn’t make her want to injure his manhood—permanently. She would never conceive a child if she did that.
‘I hope it is not my company that has caused that expression to darken your lovely face,’ commented Comte Antoine Janvier.
Pulling her attention back to her dance partner, Olivia smiled apologetically. ‘Of course not, I fear I am not very good company this evening.’
With a few final steps the quadrille ended.
‘Perhaps a glass of champagne shall lift your spirits,’ he said, escorting her off the crowded dance floor towards one of the many drawing rooms.
As they crossed the threshold, he took two glasses from a passing footman and handed one to Olivia. She took a long drink and he arched a dark brow.
‘Shall I fetch another, or would you care for mine?’ he asked, tilting his glass towards her.
The warmth of a blush rose up Olivia’s neck and she turned away. Her gaze settled on the portrait of the previous Duchess of Devonshire. ‘Forgive me,’ she said, returning her attention to her friend. ‘You are being very kind, considering I have not been an ideal companion.’
He gave a careless wave of his hand. ‘It would be tiresome if you were always plein de vie.’
Olivia grinned. ‘I wasn’t aware you thought I was full of life.’
‘There is a sense you find enjoyment in your surroundings, but I suppose you can be as selective as you wish with the entertainments you attend since you are the Duchess of Winterbourne.’
‘Yes, there are advantages to the title.’ Being married to her husband was not one of them.
‘I notice you and His Grace rarely accept the same invitations.’
Their friendship was still new. If he wanted to know how wide the rift was between her and Gabriel, Olivia was certain any of the gossips in attendance would be happy to recount the tale of what had driven them apart. It was something she never discussed with anyone, except Victoria. ‘His Parliamentary affairs keep him busy into the evening. Oh, look, more champagne.’ Olivia didn’t wait for Janvier to procure her another glass. She took one off the tray of a passing footman and replaced it with her empty one.
A low chuckle escaped Janvier’s lips before he took a sip from his glass. ‘Not something you wish to discuss. I understand. Let us change the subject. Tell me, have you heard Mrs Siddons may return to the stage soon?’
‘I have.’
‘Do you suppose you will attend one of her performances?’
‘It would be a shame to leave my box at the theatre empty for such an anticipated return. I don’t suppose you are an admirer of hers?’ she asked with an amused smile.
‘What kind of man would I be if I were not?’
‘Would you care to join me on opening night?’
Janvier leaned forward, placing his lips close to her ear. ‘I would like nothing better.’
His warm breath fanned her neck and an uncomfortable shiver travelled down her spine. Pretending she had an itch, Olivia stepped back and scratched her left shoulder.
He studied her over the rim of his glass. ‘But the royal box would probably be occupied opening night. That would mean there would be such a crush. You would not mind?’
She gave a slight shrug. ‘A crush is no bother, if the entertainment is worthy.’
Janvier’s dark eyes twinkled mischievously. ‘Then I would be honoured to join you.’ He scanned the salmon-coloured room. ‘I am surprised your Regent is not here this evening.’
‘Georgiana told me the poor man is suffering from the gout again. If it is as severe as last time, it would not surprise me if he missed Mrs Siddons’s performances altogether.’
* * *
By the time she arrived home, Olivia was certain she had drunk enough champagne that she could endure Gabriel’s presence in order to have another child. He said he would come to her tonight. Now, she was ready for him.
After sending Colette away, she stretched out on her bed in an excessively large, white-linen nightrail. Her bare feet were cold on top of the blankets, but she reasoned it would be over quickly, and there would be no chance of Gabriel’s scent remaining on her sheets.
What was taking him so long? He was home. She’d heard his muffled voice along with that of Hodges through the door that connected their rooms over an hour ago. His strong knock made Olivia jump. Bringing her hands to her chest to steady the pounding of her heart, she called for him to enter.
The door opened slowly and it was difficult to see his expression in the shadows of the room. ‘Why is it so dark in here?’
‘I thought you would prefer it this way,’ she replied, relieved her voice did not give away her nervousness.
Gabriel closed the door behind him and walked further into the room. He was still dressed impeccably for an evening out. Turning this way, then that, he spun in a circle. Finally, he spotted her. ‘Are you well?’
‘Of course.’
‘Are you not cold?’
‘No,’ she lied.
There was a hesitation, then he cleared his throat. ‘It’s late. Perhaps we should discuss this in the morning.’
He was leaving? After all this time agonising and waiting for him, he was leaving? How much was she expected to endure? She jumped off the bed and ran to the door, blocking his way. ‘I thought we had an agreement.’
‘We do...I mean we did.’
‘You’ve changed your mind?’
Gabriel held up his hands, appearing as if he couldn’t bear to touch her. ‘I simply thought we could do this tomorrow.’
‘Oh, no, we will do this now or not at all.’ Olivia closed her eyes and prayed he would agree to stay.
‘Very well,’ he said, sounding as if he was trying to calm a skittish colt.
Olivia nodded and walked back to the bed. When she laid back down, she noticed he hadn’t moved from where he stood by the door.
‘It will not work with you all the way over there,’ she bit out sarcastically.
‘I am fine over here,’ he said with a raspy voice. ‘I can hear you just fine.’
‘Well, I do not expect to do any talking so that really should not matter.’
Gabriel cleared his throat. ‘You are certain you would like me come closer?’
If he made her explain exactly how this would work, she was bound to strangle him with her sheets. ‘I believe that is how this is done—if memory serves me correctly.’
He approached the side of her bed. She waited for him to do something, but all he seemed capable of doing was staring at the landscape by Constable that hung behind her.
Now it was her turn to clear her throat, but this was to get his attention. Once she had it, she motioned to his tailcoat with her finger.
He nodded and plucked a string off his sleeve. ‘Yes, it’s new. Mr Weston continues to prove himself the finest tailor in London.’
Resisting the urge to smother him with one of her pillows, Olivia took a deep breath and looked at the idiot she married. ‘Fine, leave it on. Just open your trousers.’
An odd sound emerged from Gabriel. ‘My what?’
‘Trousers.’ Olivia began to slide the hem of her nightrail up her legs. ‘Fear not, I will not look.’
With her eyes squeezed firmly shut, Olivia missed her husband’s shocked expression that quickly turned to a heated gaze. Abruptly he grabbed her wrist, preventing her from raising the material any higher than the middle of her thighs.
Refusing to open her eyes, she let out a sigh. ‘Very well, you take the lead.’
‘Olivia, what exactly are you doing?’ he asked in a husky voice.
She threw her forearm over her eyes. ‘I thought you said you wanted to get this over with quickly?’
He let out a soft laugh and she peered out from behind her arm.
His face was cast in the shadow of the crackling fire behind him. ‘I thought we were discussing Andrew this afternoon. However, I now believe you were talking about something else entirely.’
‘Andrew? Why would you think I was talking about having a child with Andrew?’ She yanked the yards of material over her knees and sat up, tucking her legs under her. Reaching over for one of her numerous pillows, she hit him with it.
He grabbed it. ‘I thought you wanted me to speak with Andrew regarding his behaviour around Nicholas. What did you think we were discussing?’ He tossed the pillow next to her on the bed.
Relieved that the room was cast in such low light, Olivia was certain her face was crimson. ‘How could you possibly mistake me wanting to have another child with me wanting you to reprimand your brother?’ she asked with annoyance.
‘A child?’ he choked out. ‘Is that what you wanted to discuss? Why didn’t you simply say so?’
‘I did!’
She hit him with another pillow and he caught this one as well.
‘No, you did not,’ he said as if he were speaking to someone Nicholas’s age. He tossed this pillow next to the other one. ‘Not once did the word “child” leave your lips.’ He cleared his throat again. ‘You want another one?’
Olivia was too emotionally spent to say another word, so she simply nodded and closed her eyes.
‘You are certain?’
Again she nodded and this time she met his shadowed gaze.
He tossed his head back and closed his eyes. She waited. Any dealings they had with one another from now on hinged on this very moment. Her palms began to sweat.
‘Slide over,’ he commanded softly.
She shifted towards the centre of the bed and closed her eyes when he began undressing. Was he as smooth and muscular as he had been years ago? Opening one eye, she peeked. He stood there shirtless, tugging off his trousers. She closed her eye quickly before he caught her. Blast it! He looked as good as he had the day she’d married him.
The bed dipped next to her and she felt a tug on the ribbon at the neckline of her nightrail. ‘You have too many clothes on.’
She swatted his hand away. ‘We can do it like this. I’ll just raise my hem.’
He steadied her hand as she began to move the fabric up her legs. ‘Is that what you were planning to do? Lay here with your eyes closed and lift your voluminous skirt for me?’
‘I won’t complain. Just do what needs to be done.’
Gabriel’s body jerked back as if she slapped him and he combed his hand through his hair, making the ends stand up in all directions. ‘Bloody hell, Olivia, what kind of man do you think I am?’
‘Oh, I know very well what kind of man you are,’ she spat.
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means I know you are only interested in your own needs.’
He glared down at her. ‘Like hell I am. And how am I to attend to your needs, when you are trussed up like a Christmas goose? It’s a wonder you aren’t suffocating.’
‘I’ll have you know this fabric is the finest French linen,’ she said through her teeth.
‘Then you should have had three gowns made from it instead of one.’
She hit him with another pillow. This time he threw it on the floor.
‘Just take me!’ she shouted, surprising herself, as well as Gabriel.
They didn’t move. They simply stared at one another as their chests rose and fell in unison. The only sound was the occasional pop from the logs in the fireplace.
Abruptly he jumped out of bed and began tugging on his trousers. ‘I cannot do this,’ he repeated.
‘Wait! Where are you going?’ she asked, rising to her knees, stunned by his rejection.
He jerked his shirt over his head and began gathering the rest of his discarded clothing. When he had them all in his arms, he stalked over to the bed. ‘Regardless of what you think, Duchess, this is not going to work,’ he ground out.
‘All the world thinks you are a man of honour, but it’s a lie. You only ever think of yourself.’
Gabriel gathered up his boots and stormed to the door leading to his room. When his hand clutched the handle, he paused. ‘You are lucky you are not a man,’ he said through his teeth before he slammed the door behind him.
A pillow, book and hairbrush hit the door in rapid succession. Just when she thought she was finished crying over him, Gabriel pushed her to the emotional edge—again. The tears were falling and she couldn’t make them stop. She would not give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry, so she pressed her lips firmly together as her body lurched with her silent sobs.
He didn’t want her. He couldn’t even bring himself to bed her to get a spare. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she hold the attention of the one man who had once meant the world to her?
Olivia still wanted that child, now more than ever, but now she would never conceive one.
She hated him for that!
She hated him for what he had done to her five years ago!
And she hated him for reducing her to tears by taking away her only chance at experiencing unconditional love again.
Chapter Four (#ulink_cd81957a-bc64-50c9-a702-a326b613dd49)
The next morning before the sun had even begun to rise Gabriel rode his horse around the Serpentine as if the demons of hell were chasing him. He continued to circle the lake in Hyde Park, hoping the pounding of Homer’s hooves would knock his brain back together.
His wife had wanted him in her bed after five years, four months and eleven days. That alone should have been cause for celebration. The fact that she wanted another child with him should have made him the happiest of men. But at the moment, he wanted to drown her in the lake he rode around.
If she had been a man, she would have paid for the insults she threw at him as he left her room. Did she really think that little of him? Had she ever understood what kind of man he prided himself in being? His wife was as much a stranger to him as the girl who sold flowers at the entrance of the park.
The idea that she thought he would bed her by throwing up her nightrail and thrusting inside her, while she would have been in obvious discomfort or planning the week’s menus, was just too much to bear. Did she really believe he was such a beast? Oh, he knew she did not like him. She had made that very clear, but to think that poorly of him was infuriating. From the day he had entered his cradle, honour and duty were drilled into him. Whether she believed it or not, he was a man bound by honour. And that honour had cost him more than she knew.
Up ahead, three men on horseback cleared the trees. The sun had begun to paint the sky in pinks and yellows, and the rumble of his stomach told him a good breakfast might settle some of his anger. It was time to head home.
* * *
Gabriel was sitting in his breakfast room, tucking into his meal and reading The Times, when Bennett informed him the Earl of Hartwick was calling. Hopefully his friend was here to tell him something about the smell of the note belonging to the gunman. Glancing up, Gabriel followed Hart’s progress as he strolled into the room, his black frock coat fluttering behind him. If he had not handed over his coat to Bennett, Gabriel knew this wasn’t a social call.
Hart dropped into the chair next to him and tipped his head towards Bennett. The butler looked at Gabriel for approval before fetching a glass of his best brandy for the Earl. After taking a small sip, Hart ran his hand through his black hair, attempting to move a lock that had fallen over his bright blue eyes. ‘It’s a good thing you’re so predicable that I knew I’d find you here at this hour. I want you to know I had plans last night that I altered especially for you.’
Gabriel cut into his ham and studied Hart. ‘A bit early for brandy, wouldn’t you say?’
‘I’ve not gone to bed yet. Well, that is not exactly true...’
‘So I take it you have something to tell me.’
‘I do.’ Hart reclined back, a sly smile peaking over the rim of his glass. ‘I know who the gunman is.’
Gabriel put his fork down and leaned forward. ‘How?’
‘Do you not want to know how I reasoned it out?’
‘I fear I don’t have much of a choice, now do I?’
‘Not if you want that name. What has ruffled your feathers this morning?’
‘I’m unruffled, now talk.’
Hart studied him and took another sip of brandy. ‘It was a good thing Andrew mentioned the man’s accent when he showed me that note.’
‘His accent?’
‘Yes, he said he recognised it from his time near Manchester. Using that bit of information, I took a trip by the river to the Black Swan. Many of its patrons hail from up north. I simply asked a lively lass of my acquaintance who is a barmaid there if she would take a look at him for me. I was pleased to discover that she did indeed know the man.’ He took another slow sip, savouring his drink. ‘She also found identifying a prisoner quite exciting. So for that, I thank you.’
‘You took someone to the Tower without my consent?’ Gabriel tried to relax his fist.
Hart waved his hand casually in the air, which was all the more infuriating. ‘Apologies...deep regret...whatever it is you need to hear. But be aware I did not exactly have the opportunity to contact you at the time.’
‘And how did you explain your need to identify the man, and why he was being held in the Tower?’
‘I told her he attempted to rob me. She believed it, saying he was an unsavoury fellow who was known to annoy the patrons with talk of his disgust of the monarchy and those that serve it. And we played a game of sorts. She was blindfolded for our journey. I never told her we were in the Tower.’ Hart removed a folded piece of paper from the pocket of his black waistcoat and slid it towards Gabriel. ‘Here. That is his name, an area of town and information about the man’s family, because I am that good at what I do.’
Maybe now they would finally get some answers. Without opening it, Gabriel tapped his finger on the folded paper. ‘So maybe you are as good as you think you are.’
‘I will attempt to ignore the surprise in your voice.’
‘Had anyone at the Tower overheard the information your barmaid gave you?’
Hart shook his head and surveyed Gabriel’s breakfast. ‘I thought it best to gather all the details while she and I were alone.’
‘Hopefully there is useful information about his family to finally force him to talk. Andrew has been observing the interrogations. He informs me the man has a high threshold for pain.’
‘He will break sooner or later. How is our illustrious friend faring?’
Knowing how restless Prinny could be, Gabriel assumed he wasn’t handling his confinement well. ‘I am sure he can use a good card game or two to lift his spirits.’
‘I imagine I can spare some time. Unless you have something else you need me to do. Shine your boots?’
‘From the state of those Hessians, I believe I will continue to have Hodges tend to my boots.’
‘Some day you’ll have to remind me how I became involved with the lot of you and why I continue to remain.’
‘My father had said he asked for your assistance because you were cunning and had a greatness inside of you that you weren’t aware of. If you decided to end this association of ours, I assure you that you would be quite bored.’
‘You’re probably right, but I have a feeling I am not the only one who lives for excitement.’
* * *
When Gabriel returned home that evening, having more excitement in his life was the last thing on his mind. As he handed over his hat, gloves and walking stick, he noted the sound of laughter drifting into the entrance hall from somewhere else in the house. He raised a questioning brow to his butler.
Bennett cleared his throat. ‘It is Wednesday,’ he said as a way of explanation.
How could he have forgotten? It was the one day of the week that he and Olivia had agreed she could entertain at home and he would stay out. It had been a long time since he had been in his London residence this early on a Wednesday evening. All this pressure of finding out who was behind the assassination attempt must have caused the normal function of his brain to shut down.
He would go to his study and have a dinner tray sent there. But as he stepped down the hall, a distinct deep male laugh could be heard coming from the private dining room a few doors away. Gabriel moved to the open doorway and peered inside.
His wife was seated at the head of the table, with Andrew to her right. They were leaning close to one another, deep in what appeared to be congenial conversation. It was the very picture of a warm family moment, something Gabriel had not experienced with his wife in many years.
He had never looked to marry for love. Love was a bunch of sentimental drivel some of his classmates at Cambridge would drone on about, usually referring to a local girl who could lead them around by their passions. Thank goodness he and Olivia had been sensible enough not to seek that in a marriage. They’d had a comfortable friendship based on a mutual respect for each other’s opinions and interests. That, and the fact that he’d wanted to sink deep inside of her from the moment he saw her, told him this was the woman he needed to marry. She had been the ideal wife for him, until his responsibilities got in the way.
Leaning against the doorframe, he watched her smile widen at something Andrew said. That dimple that he hadn’t seen in ages graced her cheek and the urge to interrupt the quaint domestic scene overtook him.
‘I was unaware you would be dining here tonight,’ he called out, crossing his arms.
Olivia’s startled expression was a contrast to Andrew’s friendly greeting. Approaching her side, Gabriel raised an inquisitive brow at his brother while he snatched a grape off his wife’s plate.
She watched him bring it to his lips. ‘I didn’t expect you to be home.’
It was the first thing she had said to him since he’d stormed out of her room the night before. He was surprised by her attempt at civility, but then again, they were not alone.
‘It is my house,’ he replied, taking another grape. There were so many emotions running through him that it was difficult to grab on to one. His only thought was to wonder for the first time what exactly happened in his house on Wednesday evenings.
‘Would you care to join us?’ she asked, sounding as if she was chewing on glass.
Gabriel took a seat to her left instead of his customary chair, which was down the table across from hers. She ran her gaze over him with a wrinkled brow and Gabriel refused to consider why he felt an odd desire to stay near the warm sense of companionship. He motioned for a glass of claret from his footman. ‘So, what had you both so entertained when I walked in?’
Andrew shrugged and looked to Olivia. Gabriel raised his brows, waiting for her response, plucking yet another grape from her plate.
Her nostrils flared. ‘Frederick, please bring another place setting for His Grace,’ she said, glaring at Gabriel throughout her entire request.
After the words she’d spat at him last night, he found perverse pleasure in annoying her today. The footman was about to turn to enter the butler’s pantry when Gabriel stopped him with a raise of his hand. ‘No need, Frederick.’
Frederick turned back to resume his place by the door.
‘Nonsense. Frederick, the setting.’
The footman turned again towards the pantry.
‘Frederick, I said that will not be necessary. The Duchess’s plate holds just what I desire.’
The footman once again turned back to face the table, but this time instead of keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead, he watched Olivia.
‘Perhaps you are mistaken,’ she said, taking the last three grapes and popping them into her mouth in rapid succession. She narrowed her eyes at Gabriel, challenging him to take anything else from her plate.
He reached across and broke off a small wedge of cheese. It was a childish thing to do, but he could not resist the impulse. ‘I do believe you never did say what the two of you were discussing when I walked in,’ he said to her.
‘No, I do not believe we did.’ She lifted her plate and Frederick jumped to take it. ‘I know you are a very busy man. We do not wish to keep you from your business.’
Gabriel took a long drink and looked between his wife and Andrew. ‘My business can wait.’ He didn’t like the feeling of being pushed to the side—of not being privy to something that was going on under his roof.
He felt like an outsider.
He caught his brother’s eye. ‘I’m surprised to find you here.’
‘I don’t see why. I enjoy Olivia’s company.’
‘Andrew came here looking for you. I invited him to join me for dinner and he kindly accepted,’ Olivia broke in, glaring at Gabriel like she wanted to throttle him.
The gilded candelabra resting on the table a few feet away appeared to be very heavy and Gabriel wondered if he should have one of the footmen remove it.
‘I take it your presence here means your health has improved,’ Gabriel said to Andrew, wishing he could grab his brother and drag him out of the dining room without causing suspicion. If he had searched Gabriel out, there was a reason.
Andrew narrowed his gaze at Gabriel and leaned forward. ‘It has. Even though our mother is under the assumption I was suffering from the effects of too much ale. Now where do you suppose she acquired that notion?’
It took great effort for Gabriel not to sputter his wine back into his glass. He could not, however, hold back his smile. ‘I have absolutely no idea.’
Andrew nodded and fell back into his chair. ‘Just as I thought.’
‘I still cannot believe you were set upon by thieves on your way here,’ Olivia broke in. ‘I find it astonishing they would consider attacking you with your intimidating size. Hopefully, the bruises on your hand will heal quickly.’
Andrew shot a quick glance at Gabriel before looking at the knuckles of his right hand and flexing his fingers into a fist. ‘I’m sure the bruises will be gone in a day or two.’ He smiled warmly at Olivia. ‘You are very kind to be so concerned.’
‘Nonsense,’ she replied in earnest. ‘I wish you would let me send you home with some healing salve.’
‘I will be fine. Stop fussing so. Save your mothering for Nicholas,’ he said reassuringly.
The colour drained from Olivia’s face. The topic of mothering brought back all the horrid events of last night and Gabriel knew she was remembering them as well. He should be angry with her—hell, he had been. She had insulted his honour. But he couldn’t ignore the fact that he was to blame for what she thought of him.
The sight of her in that ridiculously large nightrail had set his blood on fire and made him instantly hard. He knew he would have embarrassed himself if he had managed to get all that fabric off her. It had been so long since they were together. Olivia had the most amazing bottom he had ever seen and over the last five years, four months and eleven days he’d found himself sneaking a glimpse of it whenever her back was to him.
His thoughts were on her curves when he heard his brother call his name. Shaking his head, he looked at Andrew.
‘I asked you how Nicholas liked his ride through Hyde Park. Olivia told me you took him.’
‘He liked it very much.’ He took another sip of claret, needing to redirect his thoughts away from Olivia’s soft skin and enticing curves. As he motioned for more wine, he caught Andrew’s amused expression.
‘What name has he settled on?’
‘To my knowledge he is still undecided.’
Olivia looked as if she was about to say something, then took a sip from her glass instead. He stared at her expectantly, but she turned away. There was an uncomfortable silence. Gabriel knew she wanted him to leave. He was not welcome at his own dinner table. She already thought he would take her with no consideration for her comfort. Did he really want her to believe he was a bore as well?
Rising from his seat, Gabriel took his glass and strode to the door. ‘Come to my study on your way out, Andrew,’ he said, not waiting for a reply.
* * *
An hour later, his brother strolled into his study without even knocking. ‘Why do I feel as if you do not like me spending time alone with Olivia?’
‘Don’t be absurd. She considers you her brother.’ Gabriel sat back at his desk chair and watched Andrew walk to the table set with crystal bottles and pour two glasses of brandy. ‘How often do you dine here?’
‘You mean since Nicholas has been born?’
Gabriel nodded and Andrew sighed, sliding the stopper back in the bottle.
‘I don’t know. I’ve never counted. You should try it some time. She is vastly entertaining.’ He placed a glass of brandy in front of Gabriel and sank into the chair across from him.
Gabriel leaned forward and narrowed his gaze. ‘What do the two of you talk about? I was never under the impression you had anything in common. Dear God...has she developed a love of gambling?’
Andrew shook his head, laughing. ‘Our discussions are quite varied. Were you aware she recently began acquiring a repertoire of bawdy tales? They’re quite good.’
Gabriel’s brain almost exploded. ‘You’re joking.’
‘I’m quite serious. Probably from that painter she has been spending time with.’
‘What painter?’
‘The one she is sitting for.’
Gabriel wondered which painter Andrew was referring to. She knew so many and had been patron to a few over the years.
‘You do know she is sitting for a portrait, don’t you?’
Did Andrew have to look so smug? Gabriel rubbed his lower lip and looked away. The idea his brother knew more about his wife than he did was beginning to bother him. ‘Of course I do.’
‘I should hope so, considering the man has quite the reputation.’ Andrew sank back further into his chair.
‘Reputation for what?’
‘You really don’t know anything about her or her friends, do you?’
‘I do,’ he lied. ‘We live in the same house.’
Andrew nodded slowly. ‘Well, in any event, I’m glad you came home when you did. I wanted to tell you in person our gunman has finally begun to talk. We were able to use the information Hart gathered to convince our Mr Clarke that if he cared at all for his family, he would tell us what we needed to know. It appears thoughts of his sickly mother helped him find his voice. He says he was contacted by a note left for him at the post about assassinating Prinny and he was told that he would find information on Prinny’s whereabouts in a book he was to check in each day at Hatchard’s bookshop on Piccadilly. He has no idea who leaves the information, just that when he completed his job, he would receive a thousand pounds. Since he has no love for our monarchy, he didn’t see a problem with profiting from Prinny’s death.’
‘I assume we have men at Hatchard’s?’
‘We do.’
‘Let’s hope that whoever was providing this information is not aware Mr Clarke is no longer in circulation. That is the only way we will find out who wants Prinny dead.’ Gabriel sat back in his chair and took a long draw of brandy, grateful they were one step closer to ensuring Prinny’s safety.
There was a long, comfortable silence between the brothers before Andrew had to ruin it. ‘Five years is a long time to be apart from your wife.’
‘Your point?’
‘You still want Olivia.’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘So while you were in the dining room with us, not once did your mind turn to taking her?’
No, he was thinking about running his hands over her sweet round bottom. However now, thanks to Andrew, he was thinking about much more. ‘It did not cross my mind.’
‘Liar.’
Gabriel narrowed his gaze. ‘You are lucky we are family, or I might call you out at such an insult.’
‘Fine. Tell yourself you are not calling me out because I am your brother and not because I am a better shot than you.’
‘You are not. I bet I could shoot that taper by the window in half and you could not.’
Andrew sat up straighter in his chair, the excitement of besting his brother evident in his expression. ‘What if I shoot the taper in half?’
Gabriel removed a pistol from his desk drawer. ‘You won’t. But if you do and I don’t, I’ll buy you a new pair of Hessians.’
‘Hoby’s?’
‘Do you truly believe I would even consider purchasing anything else? And if I win, you tell me about your entire conversation with Olivia.’ What? What an idiotic thing to win!
‘That’s what you want?’ Andrew asked, as if he too couldn’t believe Gabriel’s stupidity.
‘Just go first.’ Exasperation was in his voice as Gabriel handed his brother the pistol.
‘That taper is much too close to make this interesting. I propose we try this in your ballroom.’
Once they were settled in the cavernous room, Andrew loaded the pistol and took aim at the gilded candelabra in front of an open set of French windows. The shot rang out, and the top half of one of the tapers fell to the floor, splattering wax on the wood. With a satisfied smile, he handed the gun over.
Gabriel reloaded it and took aim. Hoby’s would not be receiving an order for new boots from this house. He also cut a taper in two, but the top of his fell out onto the terrace. The sound of racing footsteps caused both men to turn towards the door.
Bennett skidded to a halt just inside the threshold. ‘Sir, is everything all right?’ he asked through laboured breath.
‘Yes, Bennett, my brother and I were just settling a bet.’
‘Very good, sir,’ Bennett said still breathing heavily. ‘I will inform madam of it, in the event she questions if you are still alive.’
Gabriel wondered if it would even matter to her.
Andrew strolled to the windows and peered out into the darkened garden. ‘We should have checked to see if anyone was out there.’
‘If anyone is skulking about in my garden at night, they deserve to be shot,’ replied Gabriel, shooing his butler away.
Perhaps if he plied Andrew with enough brandy, he could still manage to get his brother to tell him what made Olivia laugh.
Chapter Five (#ulink_8196414d-1f6a-5a53-b65e-7d19d4b6e17d)
Morning sunlight streamed through the large windows of Mr John Manning’s portrait studio directly into Olivia’s eyes, forcing her to keep them closed.
‘Are you certain no one will recognise me?’ she asked from her reclined position on the crimson divan.
The artist took a long tendril of her dark unbound hair and adjusted it over her gown on the swell of her breast. ‘I assure you, with your head turned this deep in profile, no one will know it’s you unless you tell them.’
She felt a pull near her hip at the grey satin gown he had given her to wear. ‘It is to your credit that I trust you as I do. I feel quite foolish lying here like this.’
The pressure from his warm hand moved her left leg. ‘You look sinful.’
She wished she could swat his hand. ‘That is not helping.’
He laughed. ‘But it’s true. Any man would kill to have you in his bed.’
Now it was Olivia’s turn to laugh, knowing just how false his statement was. ‘How often do you suppose you have said those words to the women who sit for you in this very room?’
‘Not as nearly as often as I’d like.’ He retreated back towards his easel. ‘Many women require thought to discover what is beautiful about them, but you will make my canvas sing without much effort on my part. Thereby, your allure will help me create a masterpiece all of London is sure to talk about.’
‘I already agreed to sit for you for this experiment of yours. You have no need to work your charms on me.’
‘I only speak the truth.’ He was back by her side again, his warm fingers tilting her neck up just a bit more. When she squinted up at him, his dark brown eyes were smiling down at her and his unfashionably long black hair had begun to come loose from the leather tie that held it back from his face. His unpolished appearance was a sharp contrast to her husband’s fastidious grooming habits.
‘I am relieved you do not expect me to remember this exact pose each day,’ she said, taking note of the position of her arms.
His grin widened, and he moved a strand of hair away from her face. ‘My sketch guides me. You are always quite accommodating with all my poking and prodding. Once we are finished for the day, you may jerk my body into any complex tangle of your choosing.’
That created an amusing image and she closed her eyes again. ‘What a capital notion! Now if you don’t grant me the breaks I require, I will devise painful retribution.’
‘My, what a bloodthirsty duchess you are.’
The sound of his chalk scratching as he drew eased some of her tension. ‘Are you certain I do not appear large to you?’ she asked, trying to imagine what the sketch looked like.
Chuckling, he continued to draw. ‘You are far from large. Although even if you were, it would be of no concern. Men enjoy curves on a woman. It gives us something to hold onto when we are in the throes of passion.’
‘Then I believe I have so many places for a man to hold onto, he would be at a quandary where to begin.’
He laughed again. ‘I know where I would begin.’
How she wished she could turn her head and peak at his expression. ‘Where?’
‘I am sketching it right now.’
‘Well, that was not very forthcoming.’
‘No, it was not.’
Olivia began to laugh.
‘Do not move,’ he commanded.
He adjusted the folds of the silk by her thigh. She bit her lip and prayed he didn’t notice the catch in her breath at the unexpected contact.
‘You have the kind of body that tempts men to steal a touch.’ He moved her left arm a fraction of an inch.
Olivia opened one eye to study him. They had known each other for more than a year. Not once, in all that time, had he exhibited any form of inappropriate behaviour with her. Even now, she knew he saw her only as an object in his painting. He must be attempting to make her feel at ease, since she was sprawled out over his divan in a most unrefined pose. She was well aware what her body looked like and, as she had discovered from her recent encounter with Gabriel in her bedchamber, tempting was not how she would describe it.
‘So what exactly is one to interpret from this pose?’ she asked, fighting the urge to scratch her nose.
‘It is the pose of a woman who has just reached complete fulfilment,’ he replied as if discussing the weather.
Olivia raised her head and stared at him aghast, unable to voice a response.
‘You must stop moving,’ he yelled. ‘This will be a masterpiece of movement and light. But each time you shift, you force me to readjust the folds of your gown. I cannot sketch you in a timely manner if I have to continually walk over there.’
She rested her head back down and tried to move her head into the exact position he had placed it. Manning readjusted it a fraction of an inch and then adjusted the hair cascading over her breasts.
He raised his eyebrow at her and pointed his chalk at her in warning. ‘Do. Not. Move.’
‘Fine, but I honestly do not believe anyone would be interested in seeing how I look after...well, after...’ Olivia was certain she could not blush any deeper than she was. ‘I am not the best subject for this. You should have asked someone younger. Men would find that much more enjoyable to look at.’
‘You believe you know us that well?’ The sketching resumed.
‘There are many beautiful girls you could have chosen.’
‘True—however, I am not interested in girls. Their innocence colours their sensuality. A woman with experience in the activities of the bedchamber has an innate sensuality that is apparent to any man over the age of sixteen.’
‘I am not sensual.’
‘Of course you are. It’s in the way your body moves and the way your eyes acquire a wicked glint, as if you know the secret of bringing a man to his knees.’ His voice was so calm and nonchalant.
‘So you really prefer women of my age?’
‘And older, but if you tell that to any of the young women that sit for me, I will deny it.’
Managing to laugh without moving a muscle, Olivia considered what he said. She had spent years after their estrangement wondering what Gabriel found attractive. The notion of what other men preferred never entered her mind.
* * *
When he finally broke the long stretch of silence, it felt as if hours had passed. ‘I am almost finished with my preliminary sketch. Have any parts of you lost all sensation?’
‘My right arm is beginning to grow numb. This really is an indulgent pose. I believe I may have dozed for a few moments.’
‘I believe you did. Your breathing became quite rhythmic.’
He approached her side, then rubbed her right arm. The warmth and pressure felt heavenly.
‘What the bloody hell is going on here?’ bellowed a deep, angry voice from the other end of the room.
Olivia jerked her head towards the doorway and closed her eyes, pretending her husband was not standing there looking as if he wanted to toss them both out the window.
Manning groaned at her movement and stared daggers at the imposing man who had interrupted their sitting. ‘Who are you to intrude in my studio, sir?’ he asked.
‘I am her husband. Now take your damn hands off her.’ Gabriel’s voice was commanding with no room for negotiation.
Manning backed away, raising his hand in surrender. ‘I am simply adjusting her body for the portrait.’
‘I know of no respectable portrait that requires such a pose.’
She would not move her body to inconvenience her friend. ‘What are you doing here?’
Gabriel’s fiery gaze shifted to her. ‘I had an appointment not far away. I thought I would escort you home.’
How could he possibly have known where she was? And, why in the world would he want to escort her home?
‘I believe your sitting is over for the day, Duchess,’ Gabriel commanded.
‘Nonsense, there is still more to do. Isn’t that correct?’ She turned her head towards her friend, who appeared pale.
He shifted nervously. ‘There isn’t much more to do. You are welcome to stay until I am finished for today.’
She was not about to allow that to happen, but before she could voice her opinion Gabriel walked to the easel, crossed his arms and studied the sketch.
‘Continue,’ he said with a nod.
‘I will have to touch her to adjust her form.’
‘He does not care,’ Olivia murmured.
But the artist’s eyes were fixed on Gabriel, who nodded his consent and watched as Manning went back to the easel to study Olivia’s pose. He approached her and hesitantly moved her neck and arm. Very carefully he adjusted the folds of her gown.
The sketching resumed and Olivia could hear Gabriel move towards the chair near the door. Suddenly the pose she was in was not as relaxing as it had been a short time before. Why had she ever agreed to sit in this ridiculous position?
* * *
Although it probably only took fifteen more minutes of sketching in silence, to Olivia it felt like hours. Finally she heard him toss his chalk onto the table and she picked up her head to gauge his reaction. His grin was infectious.
‘You’re pleased?’ she asked, smiling back at him.
‘Exceedingly so. I’ll need you to come back to begin painting.’ He walked to the divan and held out his hand to help her up.
Gabriel rose abruptly. Both Olivia and Manning turned his way.
Immediately, her friend dropped her hand. ‘Will you be able to arrive before eight? I would love to capture the early morning light on the folds of the satin.’
She rolled her shoulders to relieve some of the stiffness. ‘Yes, I believe I can.’
Manning walked to a cabinet and began removing bottles of pigment. She was about to enter the dressing room when she paused at the sight of Gabriel approaching his side.
Her husband picked up a dish with something brown resting in it and held it out. ‘You smoke while my wife sits for you?’ Gabriel asked, arching an intimidating brow.
‘No, I would never.’
‘See that you do not.’
Olivia shook her head as she walked into the dressing room, wondering why it should even matter to him. A short while later, she emerged wearing her very proper bonnet and cinnamon-coloured walking dress with Colette at her side. As her maid walked towards the door, Olivia approached the easel, curious about the composition. What she saw surprised her.
Her face was turned away from the viewer so only her neck and the outline of her left cheek were visible. Her hair was fanned out around her with one dark curl sloping down her neck and gliding over her breast. The fingers of her left hand appeared relaxed as if they had no strength left in them. True to his word, no one would know who the subject was.
‘Well?’ Manning asked, approaching her side.
‘I do not even recognise myself.’
‘I told you to trust me. It will be breathtaking when I am finished. Mr West will be begging me to exhibit it.’
She hoped for his sake that would be true. The man was a highly skilled artist. The more people exposed to his work, the more commissions he would receive.
There was a distinct clearing of a throat from the doorway where Gabriel stood, looking down at his watch. If he was so impatient to leave, he could do so without her. For years he had completely avoided her and last night he interrupted her dinner with Andrew. Now he wanted to escort her home. What was he about?
* * *
As they walked out onto the pavement, Gabriel had to squint to adjust to the bright sunlight. After last night’s discussion with Andrew, he was curious about this artist Olivia had taken an interest in. Luckily it did not take James long to find where the man’s studio was located.
‘Where is your carriage?’ he asked, scanning the busy road.
‘Colette and I walked. One of the wheels of my carriage required some work this morning and I saw no reason to wait on such a lovely day.’
‘My carriage is always at your disposal should there be a need.’
He took her by the elbow and steered her around some young boisterous bucks. The moment they passed them, she shifted her arm out from his grasp.
‘Where are you planning on hanging the portrait?’ he asked, clasping his hands behind his back and redirecting his thoughts away from the idea that she could not bear for him to touch her.
‘We hope to have Mr West agree to exhibit it at the Royal Academy.’
Gabriel froze and Colette almost collided with his back. He could not have possibly heard her correctly. That portrait of his wife—looking as though she had just been thoroughly and completely satisfied—was to be on display for all of London to see? Like hell it was!
‘No,’ he stated firmly and resumed walking. At least that was taken care of.
Olivia caught up to him and did her best to keep pace with his long strides. ‘What did you say?’ she asked.
He glanced down at her. She was not pleased.
‘I said no. That portrait is not leaving our house.’
‘The decision is not yours to make. I did not commission it. I am sitting for him as a favour.’
Again Gabriel stopped abruptly, and again Colette pulled herself back from knocking into him.
He must have misunderstood. ‘Pardon me?’
‘I said that portrait is being painted with the intention for exhibition to show the breadth of his skills as an artist.’
‘And you agreed to be his model? Why would you agree to such a thing? That portrait is indecent.’
She snorted. His refined wife actually snorted at his statement. ‘You are one to say what is indecent?’
They were turning onto Bond Street, bustling with servants and members of the ton. He was aware they were garnering attention simply by walking together. The last thing he needed was gossip about this argument—and this was going to be an argument. She was much too stubborn for it not to be.
He directed his attention ahead of him. ‘We will discuss this at home.’
‘I’m not going home.’
‘Yes, you are. We are going home to finish this discussion.’
‘Then I suggest we finish it now because I. Am. Not. Going. Home.’
His nostrils flared when he looked down at her. ‘When did you become so defiant?’
‘When you showed your true colours,’ she replied with clipped movements.
She didn’t know him at all. If she believed he was going to allow that portrait to hang in the Royal Academy, or anywhere else outside one of their homes for that matter, she was sorely mistaken. ‘Very well, you want to discuss this now, we will.’
Guiding her by the elbow, they walked past Gentleman Jackson’s Boxing Salon and into William Gray’s Jewellery Shop. The moment the bespectacled proprietor spotted the impeccably dressed couple, he came hurrying over.
‘Leave us,’ Gabriel commanded.
The mouse-faced little man retreated behind the curtain to the back of the store.
Next he turned his attention to her maid. ‘You are to wait outside.’
It was of no surprise that Colette glanced at Olivia for her approval before she walked out the door. He was surrounded by women who seemed to have forgotten he was the Duke of Winterbourne.
Now he would settle this matter with Olivia once and for all. He tugged her into a corner of the shop away from the windows overlooking the street. ‘You are the Duchess of Winterbourne, a respected member of the ton and my wife. You cannot display yourself for all of London in such a fashion.’
‘No one will know it is me.’ Her voice was low but strong.
‘I will know.’ He kept his voice down as well, but it wasn’t easy.
When he had walked in on the roguishly dressed man standing over his reclining wife and touching her, Gabriel wanted to carve out the man’s bollocks with a butter knife. ‘You are not to go back there.’ There! Now there would be no question where the painting would be hung since it would not be finished.
‘You are mad and have lost all sense of reason,’ she whispered sharply.
He wasn’t foolish enough to deny what this was. He was feeling proprietary over a woman he hadn’t taken to bed in years. And maybe he was just a little bit mad. ‘No one should see you that way. I am the only one who should see you that way,’ he bit out.
Yes, mad. He was definitely mad.
‘But you don’t. You cannot even bear to take me to bed.’
‘Now who is mad?’
She fisted her hands at her sides and leaned closer so their foreheads were almost touching. ‘It’s true. So what if he thinks his study of movement and light is also a testament to female sensuality? So what if he believes I am striking? You do not.’
Now, she definitely was the one who was mad. He grabbed her by the back of her neck and crushed his lips against hers in a claiming kiss.
* * *
Olivia intended to push him away, but she had forgotten the feel of the curve of the muscles in his arms. A slow glide of his tongue against her closed lips had her weakening. And when he pressed his body into hers, all rational thought left her brain and her body took over.
She had missed him—missed the time they’d spent together early in their marriage.
Reluctantly she slid her hands over his shoulders and threaded her fingers through his thick hair. It was shorter now than it had been years ago. She deepened the kiss.
He groaned low into her mouth and slid his hands over the curve of her bottom. And then, just as quickly as it began, he let her go.
‘Let that put to rest your false assumption,’ he said, breathing deeply. He stepped away from her, spun on his heels and stormed out the door.
Olivia peered at him through the large shop window as he walked down Bond Street as if he owned the world. She rested her hand on the display case beside her, trying to steady her wobbly legs.
What had just happened? One minute he was being the most insufferable man and the next he was kissing her senseless.
And she’d kissed him back.
She pressed her hand against her forehead, silently berating herself for her foolishness. It must have been her discussion about sensuality with Manning that had caused her to give in to his unusual behaviour. It definitely was not the taste and feel of her husband. Those feelings of wanting him were long dead.
Weren’t they?
Chapter Six (#ulink_94c77ef0-c2bc-5654-84cf-6820c551e7eb)
That evening, Gabriel sat at his desk and reread Andrew’s letter. It was just three lines, informing him they had no new information at this time. At least that was what Gabriel thought the letter said. He would have to reread it yet again since his mind was preoccupied with reliving a kiss—a kiss with his wife of all people. And he could not stop smiling.
What the hell was wrong with him?
He should not be smiling. He should be furious that she would even consider having that painting hung in the Royal Academy. But instead of being blindingly angry, he was smiling simply because for the first time in ages he’d kissed his wife—and she’d kissed him back.
He was mad!
There was something about Olivia that always stirred such strong desire in him. It might be that she was beautiful, but many women were and he had no interest in bedding any of them. It was something else—some irresistible combination of beauty and a sharp mind. But for a man with secrets, her cleverness was more of a curse than a blessing. It was best he remember that.
Gabriel pressed his thumb against the bridge of his nose. He needed to reconfirm his priorities. Someone had threatened Prinny. His duty was to find out who it was and to prevent them from making another attempt on the man’s life. The weight of keeping Prinny safe and the safety of his people were heavy on his shoulders. He refused to allow anyone else to be killed on his watch. The last thing he should be thinking about was the taste of his wife’s lips and the feel of her bottom as he held her against him.
At least there had been one benefit to her sitting for Manning. Their subsequent argument had led to that kiss—the kiss that he’d initiated and she’d participated in.
Gabriel closed his eyes. The taste of her lips had opened a floodgate of memories of what it felt like to be inside her. It had been so long since he’d had a woman—since he’d had Olivia. His thoughts drifted to one of his favourite memories, which included a warm bath and firelight. All of his attention now was firmly fixed on the image in his head. The letter in his hands fell to his desk.
* * *
Olivia was enjoying a ‘ladies’ dinner’, as her hostess liked to call them. Periodically Katrina, the Duchess of Lyonsdale, would invite a few female friends to dine at her home in London while her husband would make himself scarce for the evening. This evening she’d invited Olivia, Victoria and Sarah Forrester, the daughter of the American Minister. Olivia found she looked forward to these ladies-only dinner parties where the conversations were often boisterous and they did not have to wait for the men to finish their port after the meal was over.
Tonight, Olivia stood next to her sister, staring up at the enormous portrait of Katrina, which hung above the fireplace in the library of Lyonsdale House. In the painting, Katrina sat in an elegant bergère chair with a book dangling gracefully from her long fingers and staring directly at the viewer. Manning had perfectly captured the hint of amusement that often crossed her face, and he had done a spectacular job with the shining folds of her ice-blue silk gown. Off to the side of Katrina’s chair, an old globe sat on a small table, a silent nod to the fact the Duchess of Lyonsdale came from the United States.
‘It arrived this morning,’ Katrina said, looking up at the portrait. ‘I did not anticipate it being so grand.’
The serious expression on Katrina’s face while she studied the painting made Olivia smile. ‘You are an English Duchess now. It should be grand to reflect your station.’
‘I know, but it’s just so...so...’
‘Enormous,’ Sarah added helpfully, placing her fingertips over her lips to stop from laughing. ‘You’re fortunate there was enough room to hold a life-size portrait of you.’
‘Sarah, I’ve only just begun carrying this child.’
‘I was simply referring to the size of the wall, not your size. Even you admitted it’s rather large. It’s as if there are two of you,’ Sarah continued, looking between the portrait and Katrina. ‘Although it is a beautiful likeness of you, I think I’m relieved I will not be immortalised as such.’
‘I’m relieved as well,’ came the voice of the Earl of Hartwick as he swaggered into the room alongside Lyonsdale and tossed a lock of his shiny black hair out of his eyes. ‘One of you is more than sufficient in this world,’ he drawled.
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