Page 13 of Courting the Duchess (Spy Society #1)

S terling picked at his usual early breakfast in the morning room, lost in his musings over the previous day’s interactions with his wife. Perhaps he’d said too much.

No.

He knew he’d said too much. And, yet, he couldn’t relinquish the vision of her face held between his hands, the skin of her cheeks impossibly soft and her golden hair softer than silk against his fingertips. How he could have sunk into her eyes and gotten lost forever.

He didn’t know what he’d expected, but he hadn’t seen her again after he’d escaped from the drawing room, his sanity barely intact. When she didn’t join him for supper, he was informed by a footman that Her Grace had requested a plate be sent to her rooms that evening. No further explanation had been offered.

Following the evening of silence, it had taken every ounce of willpower not to open their adjoining bedchamber door that morning and speak to her. See her. He heard not a sound from the other side of that door as his valet helped him dress. He heard not so much as a sigh as he stood within an inch of the barrier, holding his breath and willing Alaina to hear him and invite him in so they might speak. Every last one of his nerves screamed for him to lift his hand and turn the knob. It was agony to have admitted what he had, to have made such confessions and declarations, and not be at all certain how she felt about it. Still, Sterling was determined to stay true to his word and give her time. He refused to believe the Alaina he’d married wasn’t buried somewhere within this woman, and that his diligent efforts wouldn’t pay off. He’d seen the spark in her eyes, heard the catch in her breath. His nearness had moved her, and he dared to hope that maybe some of his words had seeped through her defenses.

He was lost in such thoughts and pouring himself another cup of strong, dark coffee when his ears caught an almost inaudible sound from the doorway near his left shoulder. The whisper-light scuff of a shoe on the marble floor.

Slowly, he wrapped his fingers around the handle of the heavy silver knife beside his plate, careful to keep the rest of his body immobile to mask any hint that he’d heard something.

He tensed from his neck to his feet, each of his muscles acting solely on memory.

And Alaina slid into the room, garbed in a cerulean morning gown cut to accentuate her trim frame and bosom to perfection. She wore her golden hair pulled back into a neat, simple chignon and tied with a matching ribbon. Sweet. Enticingly, deceptively demure.

The sight made his breeches far too tight for comfort.

Sterling’s throat went dry.

When his mind worked again, he wondered how lost he must have gotten within his own mind. It was rare that he was still at the table by the time Alaina rose and descended the stairs to break her fast.

He quickly rose and smoothly replaced the knife beside his plate, hoping she wouldn’t notice.

A footman pulled out her chair and she joined him at the table.

Her plate was filled, and her tea was poured while Sterling tried to gauge which approach would be best. She had yet to meet his eyes, so it was difficult for him to read any of her thoughts or emotions. Then, she saved him from having to guess when she spoke without looking up from stirring her tea.

“I have accepted an invitation to the Finchley ball this coming Friday.”

Sterling was so taken aback by her revelation that he had to pause for several long seconds before formulating a response. “Wonderful.” He could have kicked himself for the blandness of his response, but it pleased him beyond reason that it seemed to satisfy her, regardless. Alaina inclined her head and began preparing her toast.

Perhaps this was a peace offering in place of an outright acceptance of his apologies and explanations. It would do. He could work with this. This gave him hope .

The meal continued in the most companionable silence the Morton House had seen since Sterling’s return.

Alaina barely resisted pinching herself the evening of the Finchley soiree. Removed from the battleground of Morton House, she and Sterling both seemed to fall into natural public roles. Much to her surprise, there was a comfortability between them that went above and beyond social niceties. Sterling did more than simply escort her; he smoothly guided her with a proprietary hand on her back. He inclined his head in her direction when she spoke. He smiled and spoke at all the right times, seeming genuinely interested in all she said and did. He was nothing short of an attentive husband. In all, that evening’s outing—technically their first function as a married couple—was going even better than she’d ever imagined it might. It was certainly the last thing she’d expected following their volatile interaction in the drawing room.

Her mind had been nothing short of scrambled after Sterling’s kisses, his touches…his words. She’d anticipated tenacity, but this went beyond that.

I lie awake each night thinking of all the things I could do to you, of all the things I could make you feel…

It had been her turn to toss and turn that night, her imagination running rampant but continually encountering holes in both her knowledge and her imagination. Not for the first time, she felt like the least-educated married woman in the world.

What could he make her feel?

Even days later, the words caused her cheeks to burn, caused her thighs to squeeze together to staunch the liquid ache that was growing more and more difficult to ignore. She squirmed and rolled in her bed, unable to find relief even in sleep; her dreams were filled with Sterling’s determined voice, his forceful touch, his admission that all the rumors had been lies and he’d never slept with another woman. The admission that all the rumors had been false and he’d never desired anyone else…that he’d wanted only Alaina all this time was heady, indeed. Her initial reaction had been disbelief, but there had been something in his eyes that brought her back to their courtship—an honest vulnerability she hadn’t expected. And she’d believed him.

It left her shaking in both body and soul; he set everything she’d believed on its ear and she was left confused and unsure how to proceed, uneasy about everything that had transpired between them, and on her back foot when it came to how she might handle future interactions with her husband. Since returning home, he’d been nothing she thought he might be, and she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that. Of course, his touch was tantalizing, his kisses were drugging, and his words excited her, but could she set aside the animosity she’d held so closely for so long?

Many hours of deliberation and one very long, very blunt conversation with Juliette eventually led her to the decision to accept the invitation to Mr. and Mrs. Finchley’s ball that week. Her friend’s words had spun round and round in her brain as she’d prepared for the evening’s event. Having been present at the last Society meeting, Juliette had witnessed firsthand Sterling’s rage and, what she described, as his poorly-masked yearning for his wife.

“You do know how badly he wants you, do you not?” Juliette had asked with an arched brow as if it were entirely obvious to everyone except Alaina.

“Physical desire is something men cannot help,” Alaina had replied, parroting something her mother had once told her.

“This is different,” Juliette had insisted with a vehement shake of her head. “You were too busy with your lines to see the way he watched you.”

“Because he wished to throttle me,” Alaina snorted.

“But has he ever laid a hand upon you?”

“Well. No.” He’d done a lot of things to her after the women had left, but laying a violent hand upon her hadn’t been one of them. As a matter of fact, she’d never once feared for her physical wellbeing with him. It was more than many women could say of their husbands—especially after intentionally (and repeatedly) antagonizing them.

“Then I ask you to trust me that that man wants nothing more than to hold you. You may strum his every nerve, but he can’t help but need you. For all his faults, I firmly believe he would do anything for you. We all agree.”

Juliette’s words had made Alaina’s pulse quicken. “So now you are all having meetings without me to discuss the state of my marriage. Some friends you are…”

Juliette had taken her hand in her own and squeezed it. “Do not be cross with us; we are simply trying to look out for you. And we all feel as if this marriage may just be salvageable. I, for one, am brave enough to overstep and ask that you consider giving your situation a real chance. You are already married. You’ve given him many an opportunity to quit since his return from the Continent—and I am guilty of helping to facilitate—but the duke has weathered them all. Why not make a proper go of it?”

Sterling had made it crystal clear to her that he would not be scared off. She’d unveiled her plan to cow him, but it had only ended with her weak in his arms, breathless as he kissed her and admitted to the most wicked desires. And, if he wouldn’t leave, they would need a way to coexist. She supposed, either way, this ball would be a turning point for them. They’d either go down in glorious flames in a public fashion, or…

The “or” terrified Alaina.

Before leaving Morton House, Alaina had felt foolish when her hands trembled at the sound of a single knock on the main door of her bedchamber. Her nerves had flooded her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes in alternating waves of ice and fire. She’d made one last perusal in her full-length looking glass, examining the daring neckline of her gold-and-ivory gown, the gauze-like overlay, and the subtle, brilliant glitter of metallic threads. She’d straightened her matching elbow-length ivory gloves with their little pearl buttons at her wrists, adjusted the dangle of her diamond-and-pearl earrings as well as the matching pendant at her throat, and exhaled slowly before bidding the knocker to enter.

Just as she’d suspected, Sterling had been on the other side. He was nothing short of breathtaking in his impeccably tailored black formalwear and intricate white cravat with its diamond stickpin. The healthy color of his face stood in attractive contrast to the stark purity of the fabric at his throat, but it seemed to make his hazel eyes all the more striking and captivating. His chestnut hair had been combed back from his face with a bit of pomade, making him even more devastatingly handsome.

Setting aside all of the years of pain and loneliness, Alaina couldn’t believe he was hers. She was a girl again. The confident duchess was reduced to nothing more than a young woman forced to rethink everything she thought she knew about him.

Her uncertainty fled, however, when Sterling’s own insecurities about his reception by her became apparent. His shy smile had been almost boyish, reminding her every bit of the young man who’d courted her. While he’d always been confident in himself as only young men born to hold a lofty title can be, even eight years later, he was still learning his place with her, desperately wanting to make the best impression.

It made her stomach flip with just how endearing it was. Her heart thawed a considerable amount more when he spoke.

“You look…my…I mean…” He’d heaved a sigh and wound up settling for, “You are beautiful, Alaina.” The sound of her name on his tongue was nothing short of delicious. Her lips had parted in surprise when he’d entered the room and quickly took her gloved hand in his. He brought it to his lips to press a long, lingering, searing kiss there, his eyes never leaving hers. She’d momentarily forgotten how to breathe and had to mentally shake herself to regain her composure.

She needed to remember that just because she’d made this concession to attend a social event with him, that didn’t mean she’d forgiven him entirely. It wasn’t an open invitation to allow him back into her life.

Alaina did her best to remain cool and aloof—to treat this like just another evening out—but it was proving to be a nearly impossible task. How could she, when he overwhelmed her senses with his nearness? She felt a shock each time he touched her. His clean scent intoxicated her like fine spirits. His voice was low and intimate, caressing nerves she hadn’t known she possessed.

Sterling was steadfastly charming and regal all evening. As strange as it initially felt to her to arrive on his arm, all Alaina’s nerves eventually melted away, and she found it rather enjoyable. It helped that he was consistently attentive and warm in every interaction with her.

And, when they danced, it was like falling into a familiar pattern. Held there in the strong circle of his arms, she remembered what a brilliant dancer she’d found him to be back when he’d courted her. Few things had been more thrilling to eighteen-year-old Alaina than twirling around the floor for all to see as she was held securely by the most eligible young man the ton had seen in decades. It was oddly reassuring that her memories weren’t entirely blinded by girlish infatuation. The man moved with grace and confidence, imbibing her with the same.

As he guided her through the steps of a waltz—their second dance of the evening—Alaina was flooded with memories she’d buried long ago as a way to protect her wounded heart…and all of it helped her remember why she’d accepted Sterling’s offer of marriage in the first place.

He was blindingly handsome, he had a lively sense of humor, and he was thoughtful. He was also intriguingly complex, seemingly two men in one—one with her and one with the outside world. He could lean in close to whisper an amusing observation that nearly set her to giggling like a girl one minute, then someone would approach them, and he’d slide a mask over his face, stepping easily into the role of one of the most powerful and influential men of the realm. It was fascinating to watch. To the world, he was the Duke of Morton; to her, he was Sterling. It mattered not that she had yet to take him up on his request to use his given name, she’d addressed him informally in her head for a long while. Now, however, she was presented with the man in the flesh and not some abstract idea to which she’d applied all her frustrations and pain.

Despite her best efforts, Alaina experienced a thrill whenever he took her hand and threaded her arm through his, demonstrating his earnest, gentle possessiveness whenever another man spoke to her or asked her to dance. More than once, she caught him watching her with such intensity that it made her shiver. It served to stir up those confusing, exciting flutters in the pit of her stomach, making her knees weaken and a rush of unexpected dampness between her thighs. When he looked at her like that, she could almost believe what he’d said the day before…he certainly looked as if he was starving and only she could slake his hunger.

How many years had she dreamt of being on Sterling’s arm, cutting a swath through Society and sparking envy throughout the ton ?

How many nights had she woken alone in the dark, tears clogging her throat even before she was fully awake because she knew such dreams were futile?

Now that he’d told her he’d never been unfaithful and even gone so far as to offer her forgiveness if she couldn’t say the same, could she set aside her years of pain and anger to take the offer of peace Sterling offered? To possibly have a future with him?

“Lady Morton!”

Alaina turned from where she stood with a group of other society matrons to find Miss Jocelyn Finchley, the daughter of their hosts, approaching quickly. Her friend’s presence was one of the reasons Alaina had chosen to accept the invitation. If things had gone poorly, then she wanted to be sure she’d have at least one person on her side. They squeezed one another’s hands in a warm greeting. Miss Finchley’s warm chocolate eyes practically danced with excitement.

“Mother was quite overtaken with joy when you indicated the duke would be coming as well. I tried to temper her anticipation without giving away what happened at the last meeting, but the fact that you both came and chose her ball as your first event together nearly required smelling salts!”

Alaina couldn’t help but smile. Mrs. Finchley was known for her dramatic behaviors (so in contrast to her daughter’s reserved nature) but Alaina didn’t doubt her friend’s report. She risked a glance over her shoulder and found Sterling watching her over the crowd. Again.

“So happy to be of service,” Alaina replied.

“I must admit that I was rather shocked when she said she’d received your reply, especially after what happened.” The last was said in a concerned whisper.

Alaina couldn’t blame Miss Finchley for angling for more information—Alaina would likely have done the same thing were the roles reversed. The last time Miss Finchley had seen Sterling, he’d commanded all the Reading Society guests to vacate his home post-haste, and Alaina didn’t doubt that some of them would be relieved to know murder hadn’t taken place. If they only knew…

What had happened instead made Alaina’s heart race just thinking about it.

“So,” Miss Finchley’s voice dipped lower as they removed themselves from the other guests; “I take it things are better after the reading? His Grace didn’t seem all that pleased…”

“We’ve come to an agreement,” Alaina replied. “A tentative truce. A temporary cease-fire.”

She’d replayed his confession in her mind over and over again, held it between her mind’s hands and turned it this way and that, examined it from various angles. She’d concluded that Sterling swearing fidelity to their vows was unnecessary to his cause. In their society, it mattered not that a man remained true to his wife as long as he did his duty to his title and those who depended upon him, and he could demand his right to her bed regardless of what she believed or how she felt. The more she’d pondered it, the more the fact that it was important to him that she knew the rumors of his behavior to be false made her believe strongly that he’d been truthful. And, if he could be honest about that, then didn’t she have the obligation to give this life a chance?

She had yet to frighten him off, he’d remained true to his word, and he’d remained determined in his aim to woo her. If he wasn’t going anywhere, then the least Alaina could do was use his presence to her advantage and finally snap shut the mouths who whispered so cruelly about her marriage—as if they had any more insight into her life than she.

Alaina had already caught a few whispered words poorly disguised by fluttering fans or behind her shoulder when they’d believed she and Sterling had meandered far enough away. As anticipated, Sterling’s return to society had created quite an uproar. And, as Alaina had predicted, some wondered just what she’d done to make him come back to England.

Wouldn’t they be shocked to find out the truth?

“Well, I certainly am glad for it!” Miss Finchley offered her a brilliant smile. It really was a shame the girl didn’t smile more, it made her already pretty features quite stunning. Of course, with a blustering grouch of a father and an overly dramatic, demanding mother, Alaina couldn’t really blame her. A very sheltered young woman of spinster age with no prospects and little freedom did not necessarily have much about which to smile. “At least we know there will be no bloodshed tonight,” she added sotto-voce.

Alaina couldn’t help but laugh, despite how true the statement was. “You’ll have to pass along my regrets to your mother; I could find nowhere to hide my dagger in this gown.”