Page 27 of His Runaway Duchess (Regency Wedding Crashers #3)

CHAPTER 27

T here were a great many stares thrown their way as they pushed through the crowd.

Edward couldn’t find it in himself to care. Why should he? Daphne had forgiven him. They were going to try. They were going to renegotiate.

The other members of the ton could whisper and gossip all they liked. He didn’t give a fig.

The footman by the large front door was flustered to see them there, obviously not expecting guests to begin leaving so soon.

“If… if you’ll wait here a moment, Your Graces,” the man stammered, “I’ll have your carriage fetched. It might take ten minutes, or perhaps?—”

“Never mind that,” Edward interrupted, taking Daphne’s hand in his own. “We’ll go find it ourselves.”

“What?” the footman bleated, but his objections were already lost in the air as the two of them darted out into the night.

The heavy clouds had begun to clear away from the sky, revealing a full, yellowish moon and a speckling of stars. Daphne’s fingers laced through his as though they were meant to be there.

Carriages were parked up in a long line, all facing away from the house. A few coachmen and drivers remained with their vehicles, huddling together and talking in low voices. They glanced curiously at Edward and Daphne as they hurried past.

Edward leaned down to whisper in her ear, “I told the driver to wait with the carriage.”

His lips brushed her earlobe, and he felt a shiver run through her body.

“You told him to wait?” Daphne whispered back, laughing. “You knew I’d be coming back with you!”

“I knew no such thing. I reasoned that once I found you, one of two things would happen. You’d come back with me, or you’d refuse. Either way, I’d be leaving the party soon enough.”

“You,” she murmured, stopping to loop an arm around his neck, “are too clever for your own good.”

He grinned at that, hustling her a little further along to where the carriage waited, the familiar coat-of-arms etched on the side. The coachman was there, true to his word, and wordlessly climbed up into his seat. Edward pulled open the door, and Daphne tumbled into the fur-lined seats inside. He crawled in after her, closed the door, and they were on their way.

Just like that, they were locked inside the soft, silent box, rumbling quietly on its way. Edward sat on one side of the carriage, and Daphne sat on the other. They were both breathing heavily, some of the urgency dissipating between them. There was no light inside the carriage, and Daphne’s face was draped in shadow.

Silence landed between them, soft and overbearing. To his horror, Edward felt a combination of fear and anxiety washing over him.

She deserves better than me. So much better.

Daphne broke the silence first, making no move to reach out and touch him. It was as if there was a spell between them, keeping them apart.

“What does Alex’s letter say? It’s too dark to read it in here.”

Edward swallowed. “He said that he loved you and would very much like you to be his mother if you wanted it. He said that he missed you and wanted you to come back. He promised to make sure that I behaved myself if that was your concern.”

The moonlight illuminated the smile on Daphne’s face, tinged with sadness.

“He’s confused, you know. He’s just a child. He should have the chance to be a child.”

Edward nodded slowly. “I… I know that. I’ve come to understand it. I’ll do better.”

“He must know who his mother was, you know. I will love it if he loves me as a mother, but his real mother can’t be forgotten.”

“I will tell him about her. And I promised him he could spend more time with his aunt Beatrice. To do that, I think…” Edward swallowed, not quite able to believe he was going to say the words. “I think I’ll have to come back to London.”

Another smile spread across Daphne’s face. “We’ll come back to London? Truly?”

He sighed. “I’m afraid so. Can you bear it?”

She was beaming from ear to ear. “I’ll do my best.”

“I don’t much… don’t much like people, you know. I find social situations difficult. Society has always been a chore to me. But when I locked myself up in my home, that didn’t make me feel whole, either. I can’t help but feel that with somebody beside me, somebody I love and trust, things might be different.” He met her eyes from across the dark carriage. “Somebody like you.”

She held his gaze for a long moment, then shifted to sit beside him. Tentatively, as if he might pull away, she took his hand.

“Whatever lies ahead,” she said carefully, “we’ll overcome it together. If you let me, that is.”

He held her gaze for a long moment, his eyes glittering in the moonlight. Gently, so gently, he lifted his hand and curled it around the back of her neck, pulling her forward to rest his forehead against hers.

“If I let you? I’d beg you to do just that. I am in love with you, my dear Duchess.”

The smile reappeared on her face. Her hand fluttered up to rest on his shoulder, and he could have sworn that he could feel the warmth of her palm through the fabric of his jacket.

“And perhaps I might see myself on the way to being in love with you, my darling Duke,” she responded, and he grinned back.

“Lovely. Nice and vague.”

“Well, that’s what Society is about, isn’t it? Being careful about what you say.”

“I’ve never been good at that.”

She gave a short laugh. “No, me neither. Perhaps we’ll get better at it as we get older.”

“Well, I for one hope not.”

She met his eyes again and leaned forward slowly, her lips barely brushing against his. Edward had only just closed his eyes, ready to receive the kiss, when the carriage lurched to a halt.

“Oh,” Daphne said, a trifle breathlessly, pulling back. “I think we’re here.”

“How lovely,” Edward said testily. “Might we not stay in the carriage?”

It was beyond strange, taking her husband upstairs to her childhood bedroom. Daphne couldn’t quite meet the eyes of the baffled servants they’d rushed past on the way up here.

Edward’s hand was warm and rough in hers, and all the desire from earlier had come rushing back in great, stuttering leaps, making her legs feel like jelly. It had occurred to her that the family might very well come back early from the ball, and then she would not put it past her sisters or her mother to barge into her room without knocking.

For some reason, this was remarkably funny.

Laughter bubbled up her chest, and she clapped her free hand over her mouth to smother it.

They reached the landing, with Edward tripping on the topmost step and stumbling. This was somehow funny too. Daphne pulled him close to her, chuckling, and wound her arms around him.

“Clumsy,” she whispered.

“I am remarkably nimble, my dear wife,” he murmured back, his arms closing around her waist. His palm flattened out against her back, warm and firm, and she felt almost dizzy with desire. “You’ll see just how nimble in a minute. Now, which is your room?”

Daphne stumbled the last few feet to her room, pushing open the door. To her chagrin, the room was dark and cold, the fire not lit and no candles ready. Not that it was the servants’ fault, of course. They weren’t expecting the family back for a while. It wasn’t as if Daphne was cold, anyway.

She closed the door behind them and turned the lock.

Turning to face her husband, she leaned against the door, overcome by a rush of nerves and shyness.

“Should I light a fire?” Edward asked, his voice scratchier than usual.

“I’m not cold,” Daphne found herself saying. “At least, I don’t think I mind being cold. Is that a silly thing to say?”

“No. Not at all. I can summon a servant, get them to bring some candles, some food, some wine?—”

“No, not yet,” she interrupted, taking a tentative step forward.

Where had the nerves come from? Desire still pulsed through her, insistent and wanting , but now she found herself afraid for some reason.

No, not afraid. There was no fear, only a pricking anxiety. She edged closer still, flattening her hands against the strong planes of his chest. One of his hands came up, curling around hers, and his other hand ghosted across her cheek.

“Turn around,” he whispered.

His voice made goosebumps rise over her skin. She obeyed, turning until her back was turned towards him. His hands ran briefly over her shoulders, darting across the back of her neck and down to the small of her back. On impulse, Daphne twisted up her hair, pulling it over her shoulder and out of his way.

When she felt his lips press against the nape of her neck, at the top of her spine, she closed her eyes, letting the sensation sink into her. She knew what was coming even before Edward began to tug at the laces binding the back of her dress.

Part of her had expected him to struggle on account of the ridiculous layers and tight knots, but her clothes progressively loosened, more and more until she could step away from him, turn back, and let the heavy folds of her dress slide down her shoulders and hips, leaving her in her petticoats and chemise.

Edward’s gaze skimmed down her form, hungry.

“You take something off now,” she heard herself say.

He quirked an eyebrow. “Giving me an order, wife?”

She grinned. “Maybe. Are you going to obey?”

“Of course.” He gave a flourishing bow that made her laugh. “You are a duchess .”

Straightening up nimbly, he stripped off his jacket in one smooth movement, then his cravat, and finally his waistcoat, dropping the expensively brocaded fabric into a pile on the floor.

“And the shirt,” Daphne added, unable to swallow back a flare of lust.

She’d seen him bare-chested before, of course, and she suddenly wanted nothing more than to see it again.

He grinned wolfishly, his teeth glinting in the gloom. “Ah-ah-ah, my dear. Now it’s your turn.”

This, she thought, was a fair request.

Keen to get it over with, Daphne stripped off both of her petticoats, kicking the silky garments out of the way.

Now she was only wearing her chemise—a wantonly thin, little thing that did nothing to hide the way her nipples stiffened in the cold air.

It appeared that Edward had noticed that, too. His eyes darkening, he took a step forward, his fingers reaching out as if to ghost over the curve of her breast.

“Now you ,” she said, a little more severely than she’d intended. Her breath was coming hard at the moment, it seemed.

Edward wasn’t smiling now. There was an urgency on his face, something hungry and eager. He stripped off his shirt without further ado, and the moonlight played over smooth, toned skin. Daphne reached out hesitantly, intending to touch him, but before her fingers could make contact, she found herself swept off her feet and into a pair of strong arms. She was deposited on a firm, flat surface, her legs left dangling, and it took her a moment before she realized where she was.

“Is this the dresser?” she whispered.

“Maybe we should light the candles, after all,” Edward murmured, his lips a hair’s breadth from hers. “I’d like to see you, my dear.”

She looped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

“I like it this way,” she whispered. “Next time, we’ll have all the light you want. How about just one, then?”

“I can deny you nothing, it seems,” Edward responded, and there was a harsh, desperate quality to his voice now.

It almost hurt Daphne to let him go.

He prowled like a hungry tiger across to where a single candle stood on the mantelpiece. He lit it, filling the room with a buttery, flickering glow that cast thrilling, dancing shadows. Once they had some light, he came back to her, and she wrapped her arms around him again, almost trembling with eagerness.

He kissed her, and she closed her eyes, letting the dark take over. His tongue traced the seam of her lips and moved down to taste the sensitive skin of her throat. Daphne kept her eyes closed, each sensation seeming to be magnified in the darkness.

His fingers skimmed the tip of her shoulder, his palm briefly cupping the curve of her breast. It sent a wave of razor-sharp desire through her, and she breathed out, arching her back.

“You’re lovely,” Edward breathed, repeating what he’d said the first time they’d come together.

His palm dropped to her hip, pleasingly warm against her skin, and with a deft movement, his hand slipped underneath the hem of her chemise.

Daphne shuddered in delight at the feeling of warm fingers on her bare skin. It seemed entirely natural for her thighs to open and frame his hips, one ankle hooking around the back of his thigh, pulling him against her.

Like before, his fingers brushed against the junction between her legs, making her jerk, a stifled whisper escaping her lips. This time, though, Edward withdrew his hand far too early.

“Are you ready, my love?” he whispered, pressing another kiss to the side of her neck.

“Yes,” she gasped. “I… I’m ready.”

There was a blunt press of something hot and firm against her core, a moment of discomfort as it slipped inside. Daphne breathed in, frowning, trying to adjust to the strange feeling.

“Do you need me to stop?” Edward whispered, his voice tight.

Her eyes were open now, but she could still hardly see anything in the darkness. When he brushed his fingers against her cheek, the pleasant surprise made her flinch and suck in a breath.

“No,” she breathed.

He began to move, slowly and carefully rolling his hips, and Daphne began to feel the familiar peak of her climax approaching once again, a pressure building up and up inside her. She closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pressing her cheek against his neck.

Edward was growling deep in his throat, a noise that thrilled her so much she had no idea how to manage it. Her climax hit her with an almost jarring rush, pleasure and dizziness combining to make her feel as though she were drunk. She was vaguely aware of Edward’s movements becoming erratic, his hips stuttering, his growls becoming louder.

Then, he gasped, tightening his grip on her, his fingers on her thighs digging in with a delicious rush of sensation, and then there was only the sound of their ragged breaths filling the room.

Edward pulled back, and she saw a sheen of sweat on his forehead.

“Daphne?” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Are you… Was that…?”

“It was excellent,” she breathed. “I might, however, need you to carry me to the bed. I’m not sure my legs will work.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “In that case, then, for heaven’s sake, can we have a little light?”

They lay together in companionable silence. Candles were lit, of course, filling the room with a buttery, comforting glow. To avoid the embarrassment of summoning a servant to kindle a fire, Edward had kindled it himself. They were both propped up against the pillows, the sheets wound luxuriously around their bare bodies, tangled together. Daphne’s head was resting on his chest, and Edward’s cheek rested on the crown of her warm head, and he could not ever recall feeling happier.

There was a tinge of sadness to the happiness too. He suspected he would feel that way for a long time, every time he remembered his stepmother.

He had told Daphne everything, holding back nothing. She’d listened in absolute silence, and even shed a tear or two.

“You did the right thing,” she said. “Clarissa did a terrible thing, but hanging her will only destroy the lives of more people. Yours and mine, for a start, to say nothing of Alex’s.”

Edward swallowed hard, closing his eyes. “Oh, poor Alex. He begged to know what had happened, but I told him I would only tell him when he was older.”

“That was wise. A child shouldn’t have to carry a burden like that.”

“I keep thinking about one part of Clarissa’s story,” Edward murmured, shaking his head. “How, after she’d given my mother the poisoned cup, she tried to stop it. She told her to wait, not to drink, but it was too late. For the want of a few seconds, I wonder how different my life would have been.”

Daphne placed her palm on his chest, right over where his heart beat beneath the bone and flesh.

“You’ll go mad, thinking like that. The fact is that it did happen, and it cannot be changed. At least the truth is out. Perhaps that would have given your mother some comfort, at least.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the fire. “I’ll open the gallery when we get home. It will do Alex good to look at his mother again. I won’t let him obsess over her, however, any more than I would let him eat marzipan till he was sick.”

“You’re a good father, and a kind man,” Daphne murmured, tilting back her head. “I take back what I said earlier, by the way. About starting to fall in love with you.”

He raised his eyebrows, glancing down at her. “Oh?”

“Indeed. If you must know, I am in love with you.”

He chuckled at that. “I’m rather glad about that, because I am in love with you , my dear Duchess.”

“I am delighted to hear it again,” she said, grinning lazily. “Oh, I don’t know if you are aware of this, but speaking of love, in your very own household…”

“Are you referring to Peter Tinn and Mrs. Trench’s secret courtship? Yes, I’m aware.” Edward chuckled, shaking his head. “They think they’re very subtle, but they’re not.”

She grinned wider. “I think I’d be happy to see another wedding in our house. What do you think?”

“I think I agree, my dear Duchess.”