Page 29 of A Bride for the Duke of Sin (Ton’s Wolves #3)

CHAPTER 29

P hoebe prided herself on being a cultured person, and one who had a deeper understanding of art in most of its forms. However, standing in the middle of an art gallery with her sister, not even an entire day after she became the Duchess of Sinclair in full…

It was not only a bit of a discomfort to walk around in her current state, but it was also simply impossible to appreciate the art all around her without her mind going back to… well, the mattress .

But she had made her bed, so to speak, and she would much rather gallivant around in her sore state than wait for Ethan at Sinclair Estate—if he was ever going to come at all.

“What do you think of this one, dearest?”

Her sister’s voice cut through her reverie, and Phoebe shook herself to attention as her eyes flicked to a painting of a rampant and priapic Dionysus coming upon a sleeping Ariadne. Heat bloomed in her cheeks as she quickly looked away, noting with extreme discomfort that most paintings depicted men and women in various states of undress.

Did the ancients truly walk about in deshabille even when entertaining heavenly dignitaries?

The painting Alice had been pointing out was that of chubby, naked, little cherubs watching over an infant in his bed.

Why were even the angels naked?

Surely, they would know better than to present themselves to mortals in their full glory?

“Perhaps something that does not depict nakedness so much,” she muttered. “Unless you wish to explain to the child so early on the differences between men and women.”

Alice laughed at that and shook her head as they continued to walk down the gallery at a leisurely pace.

“Did Mama ever get around to telling you what to expect on your wedding night?” she asked with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

“She did,” Phoebe admitted, recalling that particular event with a pained smile. “Although I do wish she had gone about it in a better way. There was simply not much to be understood from the stuttering and the comparison of various parts of my anatomy to, ah… food .”

“Food?” Alice choked out.

“To a peach,” Phoebe declared in a hushed, horrified whisper. “With a hole in it!”

Her sister burst into peals of laughter, and for the first time since she woke up that day, Phoebe felt herself relax a little bit.

“Dear God, I would have given everything to sit through that.” Alice giggled. “It was much better than the hemming and hawing and the stuttering Mama did with me.”

“Yes, but I do not think you would have appreciated it as much when she brought out the cucumber.” Phoebe shuddered. “It was horrifying, let me tell you. I was of the mind to tell her that I would much rather have some book, some instruction pamphlet of some sort.”

Alice looked at her with a twinkle in her eyes. “A good thing she did not bring out an aubergine.”

“She could not find one at that moment, I’m afraid. We had to make do with the cucumber.”

At that point, Phoebe had to help her sister into a chair as they both dissolved into fits of giggles and snorts that were beginning to attract the attention of a few art enthusiasts around them.

“All things considered, you are happy with your husband, are you not, dearest?” Alice asked her.

Phoebe sighed and managed a smile for her sister’s sake.

Alice’s marriage had been the talk of the entire Season because it had been rather romantic—the reclusive Duke of Blackthorn coming out of his self-imposed seclusion to propose marriage to the young daughter of a marquess he had seen but once in passing.

It was the stuff of novels and fantasy.

Her courtship also garnered a lot of attention, but hardly for a good reason.

Phoebe grimaced inwardly, thinking of how she had disrupted Ethan’s first wedding.

“I am happy,” she said carefully. “Well, as happy as one can be, given the circumstances.”

Alice frowned. “What circumstances?”

They were currently in an isolated area of the gallery, reserved for guests like the Duchess of Blackthorn, who could not remain standing and moving about for very long.

“Oh, you know how it is,” Phoebe sighed as she sat down beside her sister. “You do remember that we were essentially forced into this union.”

“It took a lot more to convince you, as I recall,” Alice pointed out with a soft smile. “Your husband, not so much.”

“Well, he would never have proposed if I had wisely kept my nose out of trouble as I always have,” Phoebe muttered. “But now…”

I did that because I wanted you—only you—even then!

His words shattered the beliefs her heart had held onto for more than a month.

He claimed he wanted her, but did he truly love her?

Most importantly, now that she had given him what he had been aspiring to since the start of their marriage, would his interest in her continue, or would it wane?

Alice laughed softly and patted her hands. “Dearest Phoebe, this I can tell you—as fickle as he might look, no one can force Ethan to do what he does not want to.”

“What about Miss Delaney?” Phoebe asked.

Alice wrinkled her nose in distaste. “She intended to trap him in marriage with her condition,” she scoffed. “She might have been able to bring him to the altar, but rest assured, he would not have treated her as well as he treats you now.”

Phoebe looked at her sister in surprise. “What do you mean? I thought he treated everyone very much the same way.”

Alice shook her head. “Well, to the best of my recollection—and Colin’s—he has never come running to ask about any woman’s particular preferences the way he has been hanging around Blackthorn, asking what’s your favorite pastries.”

“He did?”

Alice nodded emphatically. “Oh, yes, he did exactly that until Colin had to drag him out to allow us a moment’s peace, and even then, the poor man implored me to put it all down in writing, at least.”

“I struggle to think of Ethan as a ‘poor man’.” Phoebe laughed a little.

“Not in terms of wealth, no. But he is new to all of this, my dear, as are you.” Alice looked at her kindly, her eyes shining with the wisdom she had garnered in the two years she had been married to her husband.

“Give yourselves the grace to explore your bond and give your heart the space to unfold,” she urged. “This marriage is between the both of you. You need not look at how others go about their own unions—and most ton marriages are not examples you should follow, anyway.”

“Except yours and Evie’s,” Phoebe pointed out with a slight smile.

“Oh, we have had our challenges, I assure you.” Alice rolled her eyes. “But like I said—this is between you and him.”

Phoebe nodded and looked at her hands clasped in Alice’s warm ones. She turned her hand over and gave her sister’s a slight squeeze.

“I really, truly am glad you are feeling better now,” she choked out. “I would not know what to do without you, Alice. I swear I would not.”

“Oh, you poor dear,” Alice sighed, reaching out to cup her face affectionately. “You give yourself far too little credit, Phoebe—you always have. You are stronger than you think, and far braver than you assume. I have every confidence that you will do beautifully, as you always have.”

The two sisters hugged each other and sat there quietly. Phoebe leaned her head gently against Alice’s shoulder the way she used to when they were children and she needed comfort.

“Alice?”

“Yes, my dearest?”

“I am glad I came to look at naked paintings with you.”

Alice burst into laughter, and Phoebe did, too.

In the past, she would never have referred to such works of art so callously. Her words and actions had always been chosen so carefully so as not to offend anyone.

For once in her life, she was able to call things exactly as she felt without fear of repercussions or judgment.

Perhaps Ethan did have a good influence on her.

There was a time when a trip to White’s would have been enough to relieve him of whatever was bothering him at the moment. A bit of alcohol and the company of an alluring woman would have been enough to clear his mind and set it straight once more.

Now, seated away from where most of the excitement stirred in the exclusive club, all he could think of was getting back to Sinclair Estate or his townhouse. It was truly not worth the overpriced whiskey he was getting.

I should just finish this and return to the townhouse .

As far as he could recall, he had three more bottles of his favorite brandy in his study. He did notice that recently, he seemed to be going through his stash far faster than he usually did…

Besides, he needed to prepare for the damned Cartwright ball that evening, and he had not even asked Phoebe yet what she was going to wear. If that dress she had worn at the opera had been any indication of what she was hiding in her wardrobe, then he was bound for a long night indeed.

Even now, the thought of her in a similar masterpiece had him almost crawling back to Sinclair Estate on his knees if it had not been for the fact that he knew she was out with Alice that afternoon, looking at damned paintings.

I could very well show up at the gallery .

But unlike his wife and sister-in-law, he would not be there to admire the paintings.

No, Ethan had other much better things on his mind.

The thought of pinning Phoebe to the wall amidst rows of paintings while he thrust into her was indeed tempting. Perhaps they should try it one of these days in Sinclair Estate’s extensive gallery, although he was uncertain if the exercise would be as enjoyable with dozens of Audley ancestors looking down on them with great displeasure.

He might even do that before his sire’s portrait just to spite the bastard.

Phoebe, however, might not care much for it, and as much as the idea had its merits, he could not see any enjoyment in it without her enthusiastic participation.

Perhaps my study would be a much better location .

Maybe then, he would be able to fulfill that recurring fantasy of bending her over his desk while he thrust into her from behind…

Such activities were also said to enhance one’s creativity, and she had been meaning to write a sequel for her book. As a supportive husband, it was his duty to provide his wife with all the inspiration she would need…

A slight ruckus broke through his fantasy with as much finesse as a raging bull in a china shop. A small group of gentlemen had just entered the premises, with their mistresses hanging none too discreetly on their arms. One of the women even looked vaguely familiar, and Ethan would probably have recognized her if he was not too annoyed by the disturbance.

Instead, he turned around with a slight look of displeasure. He really should finish his drink and leave to prepare for the ball. Phoebe would not be too happy if he was late again, and he loathed the very thought of disappointing her.

He was about to finish his whiskey when he smelled the cloud of perfume that took up the seat beside him before he even saw the woman wearing it.

“Well, well, well… I never thought I would chance upon the Duke of Sin at such an early hour.” She laughed throatily. She eyed him openly, a smile curving her painted lips. “You look well, Your Grace.”

It was the opera singer from last night. Andrea Bianchi. The new star of the London art scene and, apparently, the latest mistress of Lord Winthrop, from the way she had been hanging on his arm earlier.

“As do you, Signorina Bianchi,” he replied mildly.

“I am not well, I am despondent ,” she sighed dramatically, inching closer to him. “I missed our time together, Ethan… Your body pressed against mine?—”

Ethan finished his drink quickly and set the glass down on the polished wooden surface with a thud. “Well, I do not ,” he told her plainly. “I cannot stay for long, Signorina, but I do hope you enjoy your time here.”

He stood up and grabbed his hat, turning to leave, when he heard her say, “You have fallen for her.”

It was a statement, not a question.

The opera singer looked at him in astonishment. And then, her eyes glittered with amusement as dry laughter poured from her lips.

“You have fallen for your Duchess!” she exclaimed wryly. “Imagine that. The Duke of Sin finally meeting a woman who could bring him to his knees.”

Oh, she had brought him to his knees, Phoebe. She had him eating out of the palm of her hand, worshipping her with his tongue and lips and fingers.

Ethan glared at Andrea Bianchi. “Do not be absurd.”

She laughed again and waved him off. “Do not worry overmuch, Your Grace, for I shall not bother you again. I have no taste for men who are enamored with other women.”

It was a casual dismissal. A woman like Andrea Bianchi knew where her interests lay, and none of it could be found with him.

Because she was right—he was not interested in any other woman who was not Phoebe.

She had consumed all his thoughts. His very desires centered solely on her.

No other woman could ever compare.

His pace quickened until he all but dashed to his waiting carriage, uncaring of the stunned looks he managed to garner on his way out of the club, while Andrea Bianchi’s laughter trailed after him.

Damn, I have been such a fool!

The only thing more foolish was to remain one, and Ethan was resolved not to be an idiot for much longer.

“To the townhouse,” he instructed the coachman.

He had a ball to prepare for—and a wife he needed to properly woo if he meant to do everything right this time.