Page 14 of Forever and a Duke (The Bridewell Sisters #1)

CHAPTER 13

T he next day, the good weather held and the house party guests spent much of the day outdoors participating in the games Lily and the staff had planned for them.

A game of croquet was set up on the front lawn, and archery targets were arranged on the far back lawn. The ladies flocked to the archery area, and Lily was glad she’d arranged for additional bows, arrows, and quivers.

“I told you,” Ivy said triumphantly as Lily walked with her and Daphne back toward the archery setup.

“You were right,” Lily agreed. “I acknowledge it.”

“Ladies are so often trussed up and confined within all the little rules of etiquette and the ridiculously limited hobbies that are considered ladylike .” She all but spat the final word. “Ladies are as keen to be active and engage in sporting activities as gentlemen do.”

“ Some ladies,” Daphne put in. “Just as some men prefer quieter pursuits. It’s alright if ladies do too. We should respect each person’s individual passions.”

Ivy rolled her eyes, and Lily was grateful she walked between her sisters so that Daphne missed it.

“More ladies than you might imagine would like to know how to defend themselves,” Ivy insisted. She gestured ahead toward the archery range. “I suspect if you set up a boxing ring and said it was for ladies only, they’d flock to that too.”

Daphne chocked out a shocked laughter. “Can you imagine Lady Dalrymple in a boxing ring?”

“I can imagine her niece in one,” Ivy said. “That girl seems rather fierce.”

Lily had only noted how often the young lady looked at her husband as if he was some eligible bachelor on the marriage mart. Which, of course, he had been but a few weeks ago.

“I can imagine the dowager in the ring,” Lily murmured before she could take it back.

Daphne looked at her wide-eyed, and Ivy shot her a knowing look.

“But only if you were her opponent, eh?” Ivy said teasingly.

“I do not know how to earn her approval and still be who I am,” Lily admitted. “I will never be the sort of duchess she is. And Griffin seems to accept as much, so why can’t she?”

“Perhaps she was forced to give up parts of herself to become the duchess she is,” Daphne said thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s the only way she knows.”

Lily felt the rightness of Daphne’s suggestion. Griffin had said that his grandfather was a hard man. For a moment, she imagined what she might have done if Griffin refused to support her the way he did. What if she’d married a man who demanded she bend to his narrow prescription of what a duchess should be?

The thought brought a sharp, hollow pain in her chest. She’d want to please and be the best duchess she could be. She would likely try to conform, to stifle her own passions.

Perhaps the dowager’s sharp edges made sense if that’s what she’d endured.

Lily wrapped her arm around Daphne’s, and her sister offered her a sweet smile. Then she reached out and looped her arm with Ivy’s too.

“What is it?” Daphne asked.

“I’m very lucky to have such clever sisters.”

Ivy’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “If anyone can get through to the dowager, it’s you.”

Lily scoffed. “Do you truly think so?”

“Of course. You’re patient, usually, and you’re kind. You have a way of making people feel better.”

It was high praise indeed coming from Ivy, and as they drew to a stop near the archery range, Lily leaned in and pecked a quick kiss on her sister’s cheek.

Ivy chuckled rather than flinching away, and Lily considered that a victory.

“You’re lucky in your choice of husband too, I think,” Daphne said as she cast a gaze over to where Griffin was attempting to help kit Lady Dalrymple out with a quiver and bracer. It was clear the elderly noble lady didn’t consider herself a toxophilite, though her niece, Miss Hunter, looked quite comfortable with a bow in her hands.

Ivy was quite good with a bow too. Leo had taught her archery. And she took up a spot on the shooting line.

Daphne initially said she’d merely observe, but Lily urged her to at least see if she liked the sport.

So once Lily stepped up, Daphne took the place next to her, bow at the ready.

Griffin strode over. “Seeing you all armed is quite impressive.”

Ivy cast him an impish look. “Do you not wish to join us? Or are you afraid we’ll all best you?”

Griffin narrowed his eyes and strode over to take up a bow, quiver, and bracer.

“Kingsleys always rise to a challenge,” he told her once he’d taken up the spot on the line next to her.

Once all of them were set and had nocked their bows, the line let fly one by one, starting from the far end, each taking their turn.

After Griffin’s arrow thwacked into the bale of hay with the target strapped to it, he bit out a groan of frustration. His arrow had gone wide. Ivy’s had landed almost dead center.

Lily looked down the line and saw that none had done as well as Ivy. Only Miss Hunter came closest.

The two young ladies, Ivy and Miss Hunter, locked gazes, and both nodded at each other as if acknowledging a worthy opponent.

“Your shot was better than mine,” Griffin called to Lily past Ivy.

“I can teach you a few pointers if you like,” Lily told him saucily.

He immediately stepped back from the line and approached. Lily stepped back too, laying her bow aside on one of the racks the staff had set out.

“Only if they’re private lessons,” he whispered when he’d walked with her far enough back that others couldn’t hear their exchange.

“I wish we could start now.”

Griffin wrapped an arm around her, seemingly unconcerned that others might see. “It’s maddening to spend all day socializing when all I want is to spend time with you.”

“You know I feel the same.”

His gaze was heated, and Lily bit her lip to keep from arching up to kiss him in front of their guests.

Then he lifted his head and looked past her, his brow lowering into a frown.

Lily turned back to see Robards approaching. “Is it Lord Turnbull?”

“No, Your Grace. His lordship asked me to inform you that he’s feeling much better.” The elderly butler lifted his eyes to Griffin. “I merely came to inform you that, as expected, Viscount Trenthorpe and his party have arrived. We have all the guests settled into their rooms now.”

“Excellent,” Griffin told him.

“They say they will join the party following dinner as they took early supper at a coaching inn while awaiting the repairs to their vehicle.”

“Thank you, Robards,” Lily added.

The butler departed, and they turned back to observe the archers.

Griffin still pressed a hand to her lower back and began tracing circles higher, where no one could see.

“I noticed the event schedule allows for two hours to dress for dinner,” he said quietly.

“Yes, I thought a bit of rest time might be apropos after the lawn games.”

He bent his head and whispered, “It might be a perfect time for meeting one’s husband in the folly.”

A delicious shiver rippled through Lily’s body.

Several hours later, as the sun began to sink in the sky, Lily made her way to the folly.

Over the course of the day, she and Griffin had been forced apart, as he was drawn into a lively discussion regarding matters in the House of Lords with the gentlemen, and the ladies took tea in the conservatory.

She wasn’t certain he’d had time to break away, but she hoped he had and was already in the folly. Even a few hours separation caused her to miss him.

As she pulled the door open, she found the folly empty, but someone had been inside.

There were lanterns set around the interior, pillows strewn on the settee, a tray with fresh strawberries and lemons tarts, and wonderfully fragrant bouquets of lilacs in vases dotted around the space. Oddest of all, the medical book Griffin had gifted her sat on a table near the settee.

She picked it up and opened to the table of contents. She hadn’t had a single moment free to read or do much of anything that wasn’t related to the house party. As she began reading, she settled against the pillows and soon got lost the way she did when she read her father’s medical tomes.

“I thought that might please you,” Griffin said quietly from the folly’s threshold awhile later.

Lily smiled up at him. “This was very thoughtful. Thank you.”

He stepped inside and closed the folly’s door behind him. Then he pointed to the easel where a fresh canvas sat. “If you like, you can continue reading, and I’ll sketch out an idea that’s been on my mind the last few days.” A wistful look came into his eyes. “I haven’t painted in almost a year.”

Lily was torn. Part of her did want to take this quiet moment and use it get lost in a book, and she wanted Griffin to have time to take up painting again too.

But he stood before her looking mouth-wateringly appealing in nothing more than shirtsleeves and trousers that hugged his muscular thighs. He wore no neckcloth, and his shirt was unbuttoned at the throat.

“I want to read, and I want you. It’s a conundrum.”

He laughed and the low, delicious rumble echoed in the small domed room.

Lily laid her book aside. It would still be there for her when the house guests left, but her husband was here now, and she couldn’t resist him.

She stood and approached. Griffin closed the distance and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“You don’t mind if we set aside reading and painting for a bit?” she asked.

He shook his head slowly. “I want you. Always. But I arranged this for you. To give you a respite from all you’ve done of late. Taking care of the guests, your sisters, every little detail.”

“Oh, Griffin.” Lily turned in his arms to take in all the details. To truly savor how much effort he’d put in to making sure she felt thought of.

“Oh my goodness,” she said and he loosened his hold so she could approach the stained-glass window where he’d set up a small table with embroidery thread and an embroidery project she’d forgotten she’d stuffed into the trunk they’d buried. It was to be a family tree, and she realized with a smile that she could add Griffin to it now.

“Who takes care of you, Lily?” He came up behind her and laid a hand at her waist. Then he was against her. A wall of heat and strength that she let herself lean into. “I want to be the one who does,” he said against the skin of her nape before placing a kiss there.

Every part of her body yearned to melt into him, to trust him to catch her, to trust him with her heart. But some part of her insisted on more.

“I want more than to be taken care of.” She was almost surprised to hear the words emerge. They’d been a thought and then they were on her tongue and then she’d whispered them aloud.

He touched his lips to her neck again, breathed against her skin. “Tell me what you want, and it’s yours.”

Lily edged away from him enough to turn and face him. “I want to be loved.” She was breathing hard, and her heart thrashed in her chest.

His gaze widened, then he nodded. “You deserve to be loved.” His hand came up and he cupped her cheek, tipped her head, and bent to take her lips.

Lily couldn’t resist the enticement of that kiss, and she twined her arms around his neck, stroking her fingers into his hair.

He plundered her mouth, stroking her with his tongue, tasting her as if was starving for her, as if it had been days rather than hours they’d been apart. She felt a tremor ripple through his body, and she snuggled closer, wanting to give him whatever he needed. Wanting to give him all of her.

Then he pulled back, leaving them both panting.

His storm blue eyes blazed with a new intensity. An almost desperate need.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words emerged. Then he dipped his head a moment before facing her.

“Let me love you,” he said, and then he kissed her again. As he did, he gently backed her against the long window. Then he began gathering her skirts. Even as he kissed her, he pulled higher and higher, until the fabric bunched at her waist.

When she stood with her drawers bared, he lowered himself in front of her, getting onto his knees. If they weren’t already wed, she would have imagined he was on the verge of proposing for how adoringly he looked up at her.

Then with her skirts gathered in one hand, he tugged at the pink ribbon of her drawers.

Lily gasped, realizing what he intended. And mercy, how she wanted it. She helped hold up her skirt, freeing his hands. He smiled and stroked his fingers along the backs of her thighs, then tugged the delicate cotton garment down until the fabric pooled at her ankles.

He urged her to lift her feet to free herself of the bundle of cotton altogether.

Then she stood before him, exposed and vulnerable and aching, and he licked his lips before looking up at her.

“Every inch of you is beautiful,” he murmured. “How did I get so lucky?”

Lily bucked her hips unbidden, her body eager for his touch.

“My eager duchess.” There was no chastisement in his words. Indeed, as he spoke, he ran his hands up her thighs, then slid his fingers through her curls. Without another word, he dipped his head and kissed her. Tasted her. Explored her with his tongue just as he did when he kissed her.

Her body began to quiver when he murmured against her core. “So wet, my duchess. So sweet.”

The words emerged as heated wisps of breath against her body, stoking the need in her until she reached out for him, gripping his shoulder, sinking her fingers into his thick golden hair.

She closed her eyes, bit her lip, and felt her body tipping toward that blissful peak he’d brought her to before. He seemed to sense her body’s every response when they made love, and now he continued his wicked, wonderful magic with this tongue. Then he slid a finger inside her, and she almost buckled at the knees.

Griffin’s arm went around her, a hand at her hip to steady her, as a sweet, syrupy warmth rushed through her veins and her body shuddered against him. “I have you,” he whispered. “I won’t let you fall, Lily.”

But she already had fallen—so very deeply in love with him.

As he stood, he kept hold of her, kissed her temple, tenderly stroked her back. As her heartbeat began to steady, she almost said the words. They were there on the tip of her tongue. The urge to confess nearly overwhelmed her.

Let me love you , he’d said. And he’d meant lovemaking, and, heavens, how she’d adore every single moment of it. But he had never yet said I love you .

She felt loved as he held her, when he touched her, when he lost himself inside her, and every time their eyes met across a room and they smiled like besotted fools at each other.

But if he felt it as deeply as she did, why could he not bring himself to say the words?