Page 36 of A Duchess Bound (Dukes of Dominance #2)

T he next week passed in a whirl of activity, filled with trips to the modiste, visits from the ton, and appointments with solicitors and the vicar.

Dorothy tried to throw herself into all the work of planning Bridget’s wedding, hoping that she might manage to occupy her attention enough not to think about Gerard.

Of course, she failed. At last, it was the night before the wedding. Dorothy paced in her bedroom, trying to put her mind at ease. There were worse fates for a young woman than marrying a man whom she did not love. That was, indeed, the fate of most men and women in the ton.

She sighed. As the night dragged on, her energy did not wane. At last, Dorothy conceded defeat. Sleep would not find her soon, if ever, the night before her sister married that man .

The man Dorothy wanted. The man she loved, even if he had rejected her.

And why had he done that? Her heart hammered against her rib cage, her mind lost in a desperate bid to find understanding that would not come. Dorothy’s bedchamber was suffocating her. It was as though there was not enough air in the room to satisfy her.

She slipped quietly from her bedchamber, clad in her nightgown and a wrapper. The halls were quiet, the house still. Dorothy pushed the doors open and stepped into the gardens. The air was warm, and a faint breeze stirred her hair.

She was not alone. Dorothy’s breath hitched as she spied the dark figure in the gardens.

He turned to her. “Dorothy.”

She shivered. “Gerard.”

“Yes.”

They stared at one another. The air between them seemed as if it was charged with lightning, as though a tempest was rolling between them. Gerard stepped forward and cleared his throat. “I…I cannot decide if it is for better or worse—us talking about the marriage.”

“I do not know either.”

Gerard sighed deeply. “I was speaking to Leedway about your sister’s pin money.

You will be pleased to know that the amount is agreeable to us both.

Lady Bridget will be able to live a life which most young women would envy.

She may attend every ball and soiree. If she wishes, her wardrobe will have an endless number of gowns in all the latest fashions, and once I have my heir, I will be content to leave her to her own devices. ”

“That is generous,” Dorothy said.

Gerard’s smile was brittle. “I would not have offered to save your sister if I did not intend to do everything right.”

Dorothy sighed. “You would not marry me.”

“No,” Gerard said. “If I were a better man, maybe I could have. It is just that I fear you will…I fear that there is a better man who deserves you more than me.”

“I am a spinster,” Dorothy said. “If such a man existed, I would have found him already.”

“Maybe so,” Gerard conceded. “But I—I cannot be…”

Dorothy closed her eyes and inhaled softly. “I know that you have already agreed to marry Bridget, and I cannot deny that you have saved her reputation. I want to thank you for it.”

“But you cannot.”

“No,” she said, sighing. “Because I—I wish that you were marrying me instead. I know you rejected me, but?—”

“It was only because I am insufficient for you,” he interrupted. “I am unworthy of you, and I thought that it was best for us to part ways before I hurt you any further.”

“You hurt me most of all by rejecting me,” she said. “Why do you—Gerard?—”

“Are you certain that you wish to keep discussing this?” Gerard asked, his face pained. “My dear one, I am to marry your sister. We cannot?—”

“But I wish to!” she cried. “I cannot bear keeping all these feelings inside any longer!”

His breath audibly hitched. “I do not know if I should listen, but I will.”

“I wish that you had not decided to be so selfless!” Dorothy exclaimed. “Why could you not have let me decide if you were worthy of me?”

“Because you would have said that I was,” Gerard replied. “You would have devalued yourself if we had continued our affair!”

“No,” Dorothy said. “No, because you are not as bad as you claim. We were good together. I loved you. I loved every minute that I spent with you and everything that I learned from you. Now, I have to spend the rest of my life without you. Worse—I have to spend the rest of my life knowing that you are married to my sister!”

“You love her dearly, though,” Gerard said softly. “Will you not be pleased knowing that she will be cared for?”

“Yes! But I want to be selfish!” Dorothy exclaimed, her eyes brimming with tears. “And I want you to be selfish, too!”

Gerard took a step forward. He raised his hand and caressed her arm. Her breath hitched at the tender intimacy of the gesture and from the gentleness with which he gazed at her.

“I cannot be,” he said. “Being selfish would mean leaving your sister and your family disgraced. I must smooth over the scandal. There is a beautiful irony in it, is there not? By doing something truly good, I might prove myself a little more deserving of your love.”

Gerard took her hands in his. Dorothy moaned softly, her fingers twitching and aching at the feel of his warm palms against her own.

“I will wake every morning knowing that I am taking care of your sister, someone who you love so very much,” Gerard continued. “It will be the kindest service that I can provide for you.”

She curled her fingers over the back of his hands, tracing lines over his knuckles. Dorothy blinked quickly, hot tears spilling over her cheeks. “I love you,” she whispered.

“I know.” He let out a little, breathless laugh. “Do you know, my dear, I never thought that anyone would love me.”

“You deserve to be loved,” Dorothy said. “Everyone deserves that.”

“You almost make me believe it. You make me want to be a better man, too.” Gerard laughed. “But you know—everything has happened just as I imagined. I will marry a woman who does not love me, and she will produce a suitable heir.”

She sighed. “And it will happen like I imagined it would. I will remain a spinster.”

“You sound distressed.”

“As do you.”

Gerard dropped her hands and took a step back. He was so beautiful in the moonlight, the silvery lines of his face sharpened and luminous. This man loved her more than any man ever had. He was doing something for her that no other man had.

A low sob tore from Dorothy’s throat. “I want to ask you not to marry her,” she said, her lower lip quivering. “I want you to withdraw your proposal, but I know that you cannot.”

“If you asked me, I would.”

“I know.”

Gerard raised his hand and traced his knuckles over her cheekbone. Dorothy groaned and bit her lip. Heat began to grow in her core, her body awakening to his touch. “We cannot do this anymore,” she said. “We cannot be alone together. You can never touch me again.”

“ God , I know. It will be torture.”

Dorothy’s breath shuddered. “After tonight.”

“Yes.”

Gerard leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers. Dorothy quivered against him. She thought that he might be shaking, too. Dorothy squeezed her eyes closed and tried to force away the tears, which fell anew down her face. “I love you so much.”

“I know,” Gerard said. “I know, my dearest.”

“It will be difficult.”

“It will become easier.”

“Will it?”

When Dorothy opened her eyes, she fixed her gaze on his slightly parted lips. She tilted her head, her senses filled with his warmth and the scent of Albany and the flowers around her.

“May I…may I kiss you?” Gerard asked, his voice raw. “Just one more time? And then, I will never touch you again.”

“Yes,” she breathed.

His lips touched hers. The kiss was not deep or forceful, but light and gentle.

It was like the first sunrays of the morning, when the world was calm and peaceful.

In the kiss, Dorothy felt all his love and longing.

She wanted to kiss him forever, just like that.

Dorothy closed her eyes and whimpered against his mouth.

Never again. She could never kiss him again, never touch him again, and never again speak to him alone at night. There would be no more secret encounters. No more affection or love.

When he drew away, Dorothy ached to pull him back to her. She twisted her fingers in the skirts of her wrapper and imagined that instead she held the lapels of his coat.

Gerard sniffed and straightened his spine. “Farewell,” he said, his voice breaking over the word.

“Farewell,” she echoed, roughly rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.

“I will…I will give your sister the life that she deserves,” he said. “I promise that I will be good to her. Faithful, too. I will never…never do anything that might disgrace her.”

Dorothy sobbed, her tears falling with reckless abandon. Her breath hitched, and she looked away, crying openly.

“I am so very sorry,” he said. “So sorry for hurting you.”

“I know,” she whimpered. “I know, Gerard.”

He folded her into a tight embrace, and she felt his chest shudder against her own. “Never again,” Gerard said, pressing his lips against the crook of her neck. “Promise me that you will be happy without me.”

She opened her mouth. The tears had made her throat feel thick and raw, and the words refused to come. “I—I will,” she rasped, barely audible.

He lifted his head, and Dorothy saw that his eyes were also suspiciously bright. “You should return to bed, my sweet. Tomorrow will be a trying day.”

“I know.”

With a fond smile, he stepped away. Gerard bowed humbly, giving her a last and lingering look, and continued along the path and out of sight. Chest heaving, Dorothy remained where she was. She closed her eyes and breathed. He was gone.

“I cannot do it.” Bridget’s voice came from behind her.

Dorothy turned around and found her sister standing in the doorway. “How long have you been there?”

“Not long,” Bridget said. “But I can guess why you were here in the gardens. You and His Grace are not as discreet as you think.”

“It was nothing,” Dorothy said. “It was—will be—our final conversation with one another.”

“It need not be,” Bridget said, meeting Dorothy’s gaze. “I will not marry him. I would rather be ruined than marry a man whom I do not love. A man whom my sister loves!”

“No,” Dorothy said. “No, Bridget, you are too young to throw away your life.”

Bridget shook her head. “I cannot,” she said shakily. “I must not.”

Dorothy sighed. “It is done. Even if it is not ideal, you must marry Gerard. He will give you a good life.”

Bridget looked away. “None of this is fair.”

“No,” Dorothy agreed, gingerly folding her sister into an embrace.

Bridget shivered and wrapped her arms around Dorothy’s neck. Dorothy blinked back her own tears as Bridget sobbed. It was the best possible solution; Dorothy knew that.

But it seemed grossly unfair that the best solution would make all of them so terribly unhappy.