Page 30 of Dukes All Night Long

Since her brother had found her to be so great of a disappointment, she had no money to offer.

There was no dowry. It was a solution that could have worked long ago, but no longer.

A missed opportunity. Looking into his half-obscured face, she felt the pang of lost years.

The dream of what they could have been. Of what she had wanted for herself.

“Do you want me to go downstairs while you bathe?” he asked, his tone completely innocent.

Her eyes widened at the implications of his statement. Astonishingly, a blush appeared below the black mask.

“I meant that I could stay outside the bathing suite, of course. I meant only that.”

“But you would miss the party. And you are dressed for it.” He was magnificent in his suit.

Below the mask, the gaslight edged every fine hollow of his cheek, the shadow of his blade-edged jaw, kissing the skin of his neck shown beneath the crisp high collar of his shirt and the deep black of his fine-thread suit.

“I don’t want to go to the party,” he said. “I’d much prefer to stay here and talk with you through the door.”

She raised her eyebrows. “So you’d stay on the other side of the door?”

“Do you not want the company?”

Her lips parted. She did want company. She was alone so often that she almost forgot what it was like to have another pair of eyes look at her. And definitely not ones as luminously beautiful and attentive as his.

“I do. But…” She trailed off, looking away from him for the first time.

“But?” he prompted, shifting to get her attention again.

“Would it not be inappropriate?”

Archie burst out laughing, throwing his head back and leaning against the wall.

She felt heat spread across her face and chest. “Please don’t laugh at me.”

He quieted, and bestowed a gentle grin on her. “I’m only laughing because—” He gestured to everything in the room, including her. “—I think it’s a little late to worry about that.”

She looked down at her battered dress, her muddy shoes, and then took in the shorthand of what she was: an unmarried spinster, sneaking into her ancestral family home to take a hot bath in the rooms of a handsome childhood friend. “Fair point.”

“And what if we do get caught? Will you have to downgrade from living in a cave?”

She knew if he weren’t wearing a mask, he’d be arching a brow at her. “It could be a horse stable.”

“At least stables are warm,” he said, pushing off the wall to escort her to the bathing closet. He opened the door, and steam rolled out.

Sibyl gasped in surprise. It was so very warm. The clean aroma wafted out, eucalyptus and mint, inviting her in. She glanced over her shoulder at Archie, who ushered her in, closing the flimsy door behind her.

There was a chair next to the door, which she sank into, unlacing her boots and pulling off her thick, woolen stockings. On a night like this years ago, she would have been wearing silk stockings, petticoats draped over a crinoline cage, and jewels heavy and cold around her neck.

Now, she could admit that the dyed wool left remnants in the creases of her toes, and that a pre-bath scrub down would be heavenly in a warm room—though not as good as the soak itself.

She didn’t wear the kind of clothing that required a lady’s maid.

No complex laces, no whalebone. She pulled her shapeless dress off over her head.

Her corset was a short, simple one that barely required any ties.

The amount of clothing she wore now was half of what she did when she had wealth at her disposal.

While sometimes she missed the layers of fine fabric, it wasn’t often.

The wash rag on hand was of smoother material than her dresses. She dipped it in the bucket, which smelled of lavender. She moaned in appreciation. Even the cleaning water was scented for her.

“Are you all right in there?” Archie called through the door.

She was nude. The realization that he was just on the other side of that flimsy door jolted her, and she covered herself with her hands. It wasn’t as if he could see her; the door was closed. “Yes?” she called, knowing her voice sounded tentative. “It’s only that this is extremely thoughtful.”

“You deserve to have your needs met, Sibby. I’m happy to do it.”

She heard a sliding sound through the doorway. “Are you well?”

“Of course. Just sitting down, ready to keep you company.”

She contemplated the wash rag. “Oh.” Her mind and her emotions were in a tangle, but she was warm and content for the first time in ages, and she wasn’t at all certain that untangling them was the best use of her time.

She dunked the rag and began at her face, systematically scrubbing her skin until her flesh was bright pink.

Her foot found the drain in the floor, and she was happy it was there.

The house was not so up to date that it had running water, but at least the water only needed to be hauled up, and not down.

She picked up the heavy bucket. Straining, sloshing water this way and that, she dumped it over her head.

She let out a sigh of absolute relief. It felt heavenly to have warm water over her head. The muscles that she hadn’t known were clenched relaxed. She suppressed a sob. Gripping the edges of the immaculately white porcelain tub, she climbed in.

Of all her imaginings, this was better. The smell of mint and eucalyptus relaxed her and cleaned her spirit. The bottoms of her feet positively ached with warmth. She held her breath, curled up in a ball, and sank to the bottom of the tub.

After a bit, she heard a banging noise, ignored it, wanting to be immersed in the warmth as long as possible. When her lungs were finally screaming for new air, she surfaced. Archie stood next to the tub, eyes wide in terror behind his dark mask.

“What’s wrong?” Her mind skittered through terrible scenarios: fire, injury, building collapse.

His broad chest heaved a relieved sigh and his eyes closed. He tilted his head back as if he were trying to look through the ceiling at the moon high overhead. “You didn’t answer me.”

“I didn’t hear you.” She pulled herself flush against the walls of the massive tub, shielding her exposed body.

He blew air out of his mouth slowly, his hands going to his hips. “I panicked. I’m sorry.”

“You thought I would drown in a bathtub?”

“No,” he said, “but yes. I couldn’t see you or hear you and I needed to make sure you were well.” He looked down at her, and she saw the moment he realized she was naked.

If someone were to have asked her, weeks ago, what Archie’s reaction would be to finding a naked woman in the bath, she would have said he would have climbed in with her. He would have smiled rakishly and purred something dark and shocking.

Instead, his face went red, his dual-hued eyes somehow gaped wider, and he stammered. “I apologize for interrupting your bath.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Archie.” Her forehead went to the porcelain lip of the tub.

This was beyond ridiculous: her living on her brother’s property, Archie finding her, his quest for wealth, her fall from grace, him granting her only wish.

The amount of twists and turns from last they met to here was neck-breaking.

“What can I do? How can I make amends?” The soft soles of his dancing shoes still squeaked on the wet tiles of the floor.

She raised her head to see his backside facing her.

He’d turned away out of respect, she knew.

His lack of swagger and brazenness was because he liked her.

She’d learned that much, at least, in Edinburgh, where the men who hated her screamed invitations and sexual opportunities that were shocking, yet creative.

But men who respected her stammered and tried their best to not mention that she might be pretty.

She wanted Archie to think she was pretty.

And she was so, so tired of living in the hermitage.

Something had to change. While she was living out there because she lacked choices and agency, at least she had dominion over her own body.

That was something she could control, which was not something she had when she’d been subject to her brother’s guardianship.

And Archie liked her, didn’t he?

“Please say something,” he begged. “I did not mean to offend. I—”

“—Panicked. Yes. You mentioned.” She floated closer to the back of the tub, where he stood. “Archie? There is something you could do for me.” Her heart pounded hard enough she could swear the water rippled in response.

“Anything,” he said, and she believed him.

He’d bribed the kitchen staff with his meager finances to close their eyes to protect her reputation—which was in tatters anyway.

But he did want the best for her, and she ached for someone to care for her.

She wanted to matter. She wanted to be taken care of again, just for a little while.

“Would you scrub my back?”

A choked noise was his only response.

Perhaps she had been wrong. Perhaps he was so respectful and distant because he thought of her as a little sister, and not a woman to be wooed. Chalk that up to her absolute and eternal embarrassment. “Forgive me. I thought you felt one way, and I was wrong.”

He cleared his throat and slowly turned around, sitting on the edge of the chair where she had stowed her clothing.

His fingers intertwined on his lap and she was desperate to feel them on her skin.

“Sibyl. I am teetering on an edge. Fall from grace or not, you are still the daughter of a duke, and the sister of one. While your brother was able to scare me off once, I’m afraid that my funny fox-like brain has found a million loopholes through the promise I made to him all those years ago. I cannot both keep my honor and—”

“What promise?” she interrupted, sitting up straighter. All thoughts of her modesty evaporated with this new information.

“You did not know?” He blinked rapidly.

She shook her head. “What did you promise him?”