Page 28 of A Bride for the Duke of Sin (Ton’s Wolves #3)

CHAPTER 28

H e looked like an absolute idiot, running away from his wife , stumbling over his damned boots as if the hounds of hell were chasing him.

Even the coachman and the footman looked at him as if he had gone half mad, before they composed themselves and readied the carriage in no time. It was at that moment that Ethan thanked the heavens that he paid his staff well for their discretion.

“Are we to head back to the townhouse, Your Grace?” the footman asked him.

Ethan started to nod but then stopped himself. He could not go back to the townhouse—not while his head was not screwed on the right way.

“To Wolverton Estate,” he replied instead.

Even in the darkness, he swore he could see the footman turn three shades paler.

“W-Wolverton Estate, Your Grace?”

Ethan shot him a glare. “I hope you are not making me repeat myself, Eric.”

The footman seemed to shake himself. Managing a wobbly smile, he nodded. “To Wolverton Estate, as Your Grace commands.”

As the carriage began to sway and the clip-clop of the horses’ hooves became a steady rhythm, Ethan finally managed to close his eyes and lean back against the plush upholstery of his carriage.

That was before he recalled just how passionately he had kissed Phoebe in it just a few short hours ago.

I must be going mad . Phoebe has unraveled me in ways we both could never have imagined.

They reached Wolverton Estate—the forbidding abode of the most reclusive of the Wolves—at just a little past midnight.

The lamps at the gates were lit, but most of the mansion was shrouded in darkness.

Many in the ton speculated that the Duke of Wolverton engaged in a great many hair-raising acts within its walls, while those who were more realistic were wont to believe that the man simply did not wish to waste his fortune by burning candles for all forty-two rooms on that magnificent property.

Ethan knew that Hudson hardly cared for most of those rooms, except the ones he used often—his bedchamber, his study, and the great balcony at the back.

It was precisely on this balcony that he found his friend reclining on the velvet dais with a drink in his hand.

“I had wondered which idiot would walk into my lair at this ungodly hour,” Hudson drawled as he lazily swirled the deep red liquid in his glass. His eyes flicked to Ethan. “So it is you.”

Ethan scoffed and leaned back against the balustrade. “It is just a little past midnight. You must be getting old if you are complaining at this hour.”

“If you came here simply to complain about the hours I am keeping, the door is that way.” Hudson pointed at the wide-open French doors behind him. “Do not let me stop you on your way out.”

“I did not come here for an argument, dammit!” Ethan groaned.

His friend raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Then what are you here for?”

Ethan pushed off the stone railing and raked his hand through his thick locks, frustration radiating from just about every pore in his body.

“I did it,” he finally said.

“Did what?”

“We are married now. In full.”

Hudson let out a low chuckle. “Did you come here to hear my congratulations on your success?”

“No, dammit!” Ethan paced back and forth. “She told me that I was right—that maybe pleasure would be enough for the both of us.”

“Should you not be pleased?” Hudson scoffed. “You have been trying to get her to see everything from your perspective. Now, she has. Congratulations on that one, as well.”

Ethan crouched down, his head in his hands. “The problem is,” he muttered through gritted teeth, “I do not quite know how I should feel about that .”

To his surprise, Hudson did not answer. He merely swirled the wine in his glass a few more times before taking a leisurely sip.

“Somehow, I think you came to the wrong person,” he pointed out. “Should you not be seeking advice from our married comrades instead?”

Ethan threw his hands up in frustration. “How can I possibly do that when one is married to her sister and the other to her best friend ?”

If he was to breathe even a hint of it to either Colin or Daniel, it would only be a matter of days before word of it reached Phoebe.

Maybe even just hours if he spoke to Colin. The man never could hide anything from his wife.

“I do not see any reason for your dilemma,” Hudson sighed. “You do realize that you can choose to simply do nothing .”

Ethan frowned. “Nothing?”

The Duke of Wolves flashed him a grin. “Precisely. Just do nothing—see where the winds take you both. You do not always have to take action, you know.”

Do nothing and then what?

Wait and see , a small voice whispered in the back of his head. See where all of this will lead.

Ethan looked at Hudson in astonishment. For one who disdained the company of most other human beings, the man gave damned good advice.

“I think that is very wise,” Ethan said softly as he stood up. “Doing nothing.”

For now, at least.

As for how the rest of it would turn out… Well, that remained to be seen.

For now, he simply did not have to do anything .

“Thank you, old friend. I think I should return and leave you to enjoy your solitude.” He smiled at Hudson gratefully, before turning to leave.

He had reached the French doors when he heard his friend call out, “By the way, I enjoyed your Duchess’s work. Please do not aggravate her further, lest she stop writing and leave us all hanging on the precipice, waiting for the sequel.”

Ethan let out a soft laugh. “Phoebe will be happy to know that you liked it.”

But for her to know that, he would have to return and tell her about it himself.

Ethan shook his head and smiled to himself as he stepped back into his carriage.

For a man who claimed that he did not know much about the relationships between men and women beyond the transactional aspect, Hudson had a pretty good grasp of things.

Much better than Ethan, perhaps.

Phoebe woke up to a delicious ache in her body.

And a slight soreness right where she and Ethan had been joined last night.

Last night…

Her eyes flew open as she sat up in the bed. The silken covers slid down her body, baring her breasts to the chill in the morning air.

She was as naked as the day she was born, which meant that…

Heat suffused her cheeks as she scrambled to cover herself with blankets before anyone saw her. Heavens, what if Ella came in?

Or those maids who drew the bath for them last night?

Her mortification would know no bounds. She would be disgraced before the entire household.

And where was Ethan in all of this?

As her thoughts raced, her eyes fell on a folded note on the bedside table to her right.

Phoebe squinted her sleep-fogged eyes as she scrambled over to it, awkwardly dragging the sheets along with her to cover her nakedness.

Her name was scrawled in a strong yet graceful hand across one side of the note.

Three guesses who it’s from.

She unfolded it hastily, her eyes quickly scanning the few words Ethan had scrawled on it.

I had to take care of something. I shall be back before you wake up, wife. -E

The word ‘wife’ had been underlined three times, just as she had done in the note she sent to him before the opera.

Phoebe scoffed as she folded the note back and laid it on the bedside table. “Well, I am awake now,” she muttered to herself. “And you are not back as you said you would be.”

Whatever his business was that he had to leave so urgently—it hardly mattered to her. She had woken up alone in the huge and magnificent bed of the Duke of Sinclair, and she had never felt so cold in all the times she had woken up, counting that one time she had been so sick that her body was wracked with shivers and Alice had been convinced she would die .

Well, Phoebe managed to get through the worst of it, but even that did not feel as bad as waking up naked and alone .

I have better get used to this . One cannot expect a rogue to wait about in bed.

She plucked the scattered items of clothing from last night and put on her underthings. The gown, though, would need mending if it was to be of any use, as it was now sporting a ghastly tear at the front of the bodice, and the lace?—

“Madame Delacroix would be heartbroken,” she sighed to herself as she rang for assistance.

She was only mildly surprised when Ella answered her summons with a bowl of warm water and an armful of towels for her morning ablutions.

“Good morning, Your Grace,” the maid greeted her cheerfully.

Much too cheerfully, actually.

“Good morning to you too, Ella,” she responded a little stiffly.

“His Grace informed us that you might be… exhausted from last night.” Ella burst into a fit of giggles.

She managed to compose herself when Phoebe shot her a swift glare over the basin of water.

“Would you like to take your breakfast in bed, Your Grace?” she asked then. “Or would you prefer the breakfast room?”

Where Ethan had once urged her to touch herself? Certainly not! Phoebe did not want to lose her appetite. Nor did she want to be reminded of how wantonly she had behaved in his presence while she ate.

“No, Ella,” she said primly. She looked out the window and noticed the bright sunshine streaming through the panes of clear glass and smiled. “I think I shall have my breakfast in the garden instead.”

“As you wish, Your Grace.” Ella nodded.

An hour later, Phoebe was enjoying hot chocolate and honey cakes in the soft morning sunshine.

They had found a nice, shaded spot by the rosebushes and set up a table and a veritable feast for her. Perhaps the kitchens thought they should at least nourish her in preparation for their master’s attentions.

One would think that this is very much akin to fattening the cow before the slaughter , she mused grimly as she sawed at her cake with far more vehemence than was necessary.

“Beloved wife, if the food is not to your taste, you need not force yourself to eat it,” a familiar voice laughingly remarked from behind her.

Phoebe immediately looked up and found Ethan striding towards her, smiling as brightly as the sun overhead. He looked as if he had bathed and shaved, his hair already brushed to a polished shine that irritated her sensitive eyes. He had also changed into a new morning coat and breeches that clung to his muscular thighs.

A man who looks this good in the morning cannot be trusted .

Neither were men who crawled out of bed looking quite the fright.

Whether he had looked presentable or horrid, it would scarcely have mattered, for she was already cross with him before he even intruded on her breakfast and disrupted her peace.

“I have arranged to accompany my sister to the gallery today,” she told him in a flat voice. “And Alice and Colin have invited us to their private ball tonight.”

Ethan paused before nodding in acknowledgment. He took the empty seat from across her, and she frowned.

Maybe she should have emphasized to the servants that she wished to enjoy her breakfast alone —exactly the way she had woken up that morning.

“Hudson also wished me to inform you that he enjoyed your book,” he told her with a stilted smile.

Phoebe paused mid-stir of her hot chocolate. “Do tell the Duke of Wolverton that I am flattered that he thinks so highly of my work,” she told him primly.

She purposely avoided his gaze as she continued eating and drinking as if he was nothing more than yet another rosebush who just happened to take the seat opposite her.

“Why are you behaving like this?” he asked her, incensed.

Phoebe affected a look of surprise. Was he really asking her why ?

“Well, I thought that you…” she trailed off.

How was she supposed to tell him that she knew he could never be satisfied with her alone in his bed? That the thought of it gnawed and clawed at her heart until she had to put a hand on her chest to see if she was truly bleeding or not?

But from the look of dawning horror on his face, she knew he had already come to that conclusion as well.

“You thought that I had gone to see another woman?” he exclaimed furiously. “After our first night together?” He stood up and began pacing in front of her. “You keep telling me that you want a real marriage—none of the farce the whole ton insists on having—but then you are the one with such little faith in me!”

Phoebe looked at him in surprise. “You… were not with another woman?”

“Dammit, Phoebe! I am not the monster you think I am!”

She jumped up to her feet and looked at him reproachfully. “Need I remind you that you were the one who invited me to become your mistress during your own wedding ?”

She let out a slight squeak when his arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her to his hard, masculine body.

And even as she braced her hands on his chest, she felt herself turn liquid, almost like a pudding, in his embrace.

It was embarrassing how this man had such an effect on her.

“I did that because I wanted you— only you —even then!” he growled.

She could feel the heat arcing between them, even as she looked at him in shock. The wild desire in his eyes was most probably mirrored in her own. Instinctively, her fingers curled into his chest.

Then, his eyes seemed to clear. He released her gently and took a step back, his hand reaching out to caress the curve of her cheek.

“I apologize for my abominable behavior, sweetheart,” he told her softly. “I shall see you at the ball tonight, hmm?”

Phoebe could only nod wordlessly as he tucked a stubborn curl behind her ear, and with a soft smile, he walked away, leaving her standing alone in the garden.

Again.