Page 15 of Promised to the Worst Duke in England (Disreputable Dukes of Club Damnation #2)

Later that afternoon

Since Alan hadn’t risen from his bed—well, the temporary bed from which he’d pleasured then comforted his wife—until well after noon, both he and Imogen were voraciously hungry having missed tea and dinner yesterday. They had gone to their separate suites to refresh and to order tea as well as to meet with various people regarding the ball tomorrow.

Oddly enough, he missed being in her company even though he’d spent the last twenty-four hours with her. The fact that she’d agreed to and then had taken to carnal play that might be considered inappropriate from a large portion of society both excited and humbled him. Putting the dildo into her arse, seeing her enjoyment, hearing the sounds of pleasure she’d made as he’d fucked her with the diletto inside her had been everything he’d hoped for and more.

Again, he couldn’t help but think she was his match even in this, and somehow, during that session with her inside his sister’s room, he’d felt all too close to her. At some point when he’d held her as she’d fallen asleep once everything was over, a piece of his heart had flown into her keeping despite his refusal to fall in that way.

Yet here he was.

And finally knowing the story that had made her into the woman she is today had been both eye-opening and infuriating. As she’d told him, he wanted to land her father a facer as well as to give her mother a scathing dressing down for their treatment of her when she’d asked them for help.

She was his now, and he would protect her within an inch of his life. She didn’t deserve what had happened in her life. From now on, he would shower her with gifts and all the freedom she wanted, but could he give her love? Is that something she coveted above all else? They hadn’t discussed any of that.

Pull yourself together, Averly. You know why you can’t let a woman close any longer.

Williams came into the bedchamber. “I have ordered your bath.”

“Thank you.” He stood at the window, peering out onto the front lawn and circular drive. It was another overcast day, but there was hope the weather would prove fair tomorrow for the ball so guests could utilize the terrace and rear gardens. “How goes it with you?”

“Well enough,” the valet responded with a hint of surprise in his voice. “Though I am interested in how you are faring.”

“Me?” Alan turned about to face his long-time friend. “I am well.” He’d been married for five days, and there was no mistake that he found no issue in claiming his wife’s body. Had she already made an impact on him or his life? He had no idea. “Still trying to wrap my head around the fact I am wed.”

“From my limited interactions with Her Grace, she seems a good sort. Far too lovely for the likes of you,” he added with a grin that reached his eye.

“Oh, I quite agree.” He remained silent as a veritable army came into the suite bearing a porcelain tub with lion paw feet as well as buckets and buckets of steaming water. Then he lowered his voice. “I don’t deserve her, am completely flummoxed to know why she is still here.”

The valet shrugged. “Perhaps she sees something redeeming in you.” Then a shrewd expression came over his face. “Some of the servants are saying the two of you get on quite well carnally.”

Heat sneaked up the back of his neck. “How would they know?”

“They have cause to pass through corridors in the course of carrying out their duties, Your Grace. They hear things and see things, especially if doors aren’t closed… or if such things go on in open areas like the portrait gallery.” When Alan sputtered, Williams chuckled. “It is not a crime to lay with your wife.”

Dear God, he and Imogen had been overheard and possibly spied upon while engaged in carnal activities. Then he shored up his shock. It didn’t matter. “No, I suppose it’s not, and I am a duke so have full power to do what I please.” But he frowned. “What am I to do now?”

“What do you mean?”

Alan shrugged. “Clearly, my wife and I are compatible physically, yet I feel out to sea on what to do next. That cannot be the whole of our relationship.” He watched as the maids and footmen completed the task of filling the tub with water. “Each day that goes by and I learn more about Imogen, I am continually humbled by her and the fact she had been waiting her entire life to marry me, but I took that for granted.” The memories of how the ballroom looked under her direction still had the power to make him breathless and grateful. “She is quite talented in decorating as well as painting.” Perhaps he should do something with that.

Williams’ uninjured eyebrow rose in question. “Spend time with her that has nothing to do with trying to get her with child. Stroll the property. Convince her to take tea with you on the lawn or terrace today if the rain holds off. Hell, give her a tour of the house, or show her your favorite parts of the property. Barring that, if it’s not raining, drive her into the village for a trinket or token of your budding affection.”

He frowned. Is that what he was beginning to feel for her? “What sort of token? She has access to jewels aplenty.”

“You truly are a nodcock about romance, aren’t you?” With a sniff, Williams assisted him out of the rather wrinkled jacket.

“Can you blame me? All my effort the last night was for naught.”

The valet removed Alan’s waistcoat next. “That is because the lady you chose at that time wasn’t true to you. She was easily swayed by someone else, while Her Grace can hold her own against you and still manages to tolerate you.”

That was certainly true. “Do shut up, Williams. I need to think.”

An hour later, he’d barely stepped out of the tub and wrapped an Oriental-style dressing gown of red and gold silk about his form when Imogen came into his rooms, as fresh-faced and ethereal as if she’d just stepped from a stream in the woods.

With her hair caught back in a loose chignon with a few tendrils clinging to her slender neck, he couldn’t help but glide his gaze over her décolletage where the tops of her pale breasts were visible. She’d apparently dressed for dinner even though it wouldn’t occur for a good two hours or so, but the gown in robin’s egg blue silk made the blue in her eyes a bit more prominent but the hue gave life to her face. When she became aware of his regard, a blush seeped into her pale cheeks.

“Am I interrupting?”

“No, of course not,” Alan hastened to say as she looked about his suite with interest in her expression.

He and Williams exchanged a speaking glance. “I can dress myself for dinner, Williams, so enjoy a few hours to yourself.”

“As you wish, Your Grace.” The valet nodded at Imogen then quietly left the suite.

Left alone with his wife, Alan was suddenly tongue-tied. “Er… How are you feeling after this morning?”

Another blush stained her cheeks. “The veriest bit sore, but quite refreshed, actually.” She swept her gaze up and down his person, and he swore that he felt it as if she’d physically caressed him, so much so that his shaft tightened. “And you look good enough to eat.” With what sounded like a tired sigh, she gave him a faint smile. “However, I’m not going to at this time.”

Perhaps he’d accidentally caught a tigress by the tail, for he certainly didn’t know what to do with her, but he welcomed the challenge. And then he knew what he would give her that had nothing to do with jewels or baubles or trinkets. “Would you sit with me for a while?”

“Of course. Where?”

“In the sitting room.” He led the way into the adjoining room that served as both a dressing area as well as a parlor. When she settled onto one of the two low sofas, he moved to the double doors at the shallow balcony and opened them wide to invite rain-cooled air into the space. “I don’t wish to go down to the drawing room just now or do anything else, truth be told,” he said as he drifted to the sofa where she sat, and when she nodded, he sat beside her. “Do you have pressing plans?”

“Not any longer. I have already met with Mrs. Phelps as well as Cook. Everything is ready for the ball. Some of your guests should begin arriving around teatime tomorrow. The ones who live too far out to return to London in the wee hours following the ball will stay at one of the two inns in the village. If there are more than there are rooms, your staff is prepared to put them up for the night here.”

“Our guests, our staff,” he gently reminded her. The floral scent of her teased his nose, and oddly enough, it fed the ever-present desire he had for her. “All of this is yours as well as mine.”

She snorted. “I don’t know about that. After what I told you yesterday about my past, I’m not exactly the type of woman you need for your duchess.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” Her expression reflected a grimness he hadn’t seen before. “Be honest, Alan.” When Imogen half-turned toward him, her knee bumped his. Heat radiated up his leg to lodge in his stones. “I killed a man, and I’m not sorry, all these years later.” Her shrug pulled her bodice tight across her breasts. “Shouldn’t a duchess lead by example?”

“Isn’t the best example to show that one can defend oneself in the face of a predator?” He slipped an arm about her shoulders, let his fingers drift along her upper arm. “You survived where others would not have. Perhaps with that knowledge, you can form a charity for other women who have been so abused.” It was something he’d not thought about, but it seemed the next logical choice. “In that way, you can continue to purge yourself of those fears, those memories, and eventually you will be healed of them.”

I envy you that.

“Truly?” Her eyes rounded. “You believe I would be skilled at that?”

“Why not?” He shrugged. “It happens more often than we would like to think in our society, and when those women who are abused fall pregnant, there is often no recourse for them. That should be brought to light as well.” When he took possession of her hand and brought it to his lips, Alan watched her the whole time. “Heal, Imogen. If not for the title, then for you, because you deserve peace.”

“So do you,” she said in a low voice. With a faint smile, she cupped his cheek. As she guided the pad of her thumb along his lower lip, she said, “Tell me your story. It’s time.”

The sound of her voice was quite soothing, and the longer he stared into her blue-gray eyes, he wanted to dive into those cool depths, perhaps to linger there forever.

For the peace she offered.

After a few seconds, he nodded, and when she dropped her hand, he immediately missed her warmth. “Like you, I don’t know if that is achievable for me. It has been a handful of years since my life was completely upended, and I was lost.”

“Before or after you took the title?”

“A couple of years after.” Focusing on the open balcony doors, he sighed as he considered his next words. “My father died suddenly six years ago. Without warning, I was handed the dukedom along with a pile of responsibilities and worries.”

“That couldn’t have been easy.”

“It wasn’t, and I nearly broke under all the new anxiety suddenly flooding me.” He twined his fingers with hers, holding tight to her as the memories assailed him. “Shortly after that, I met my fiancée, Elizabeth.”

Shock went through her expression. “Except you were already engaged to me.”

“I know.” He nodded. “It wasn’t well done of me, I know that, but I honestly thought I could negotiate with your father to release me from the contracts since my own father was dead.” God, it made him sound like the biggest arse. “Regardless, I fell hard for her. No doubt because I was in a low state after the death of my father. She was petite, black-haired, red-lipped, looked like a storybook princess, and I couldn’t wait to marry her.”

“Oh.”

Fuck, but he hated the jealousy, the disappointment in her eyes. Even with her, he wouldn’t measure up? “We were engaged for just over a year before the trouble started.”

“What happened?” She released his hand but didn’t pull away, and for that he was grateful.

“She met my sister. They became fast friends, best friends, and were inseparable. Sarah was ecstatic that she would soon have a sister. I think our parents’ treatment of her took its toll as well, and she’d lived a rather lonely existence.”

“Yet clearly you didn’t marry your paragon of beauty.” There was a bit of sarcasm in her voice, and he couldn’t blame her.

“No.” He leaned his against the high back of the sofa. “Apparently, one evening the girls were together at a ball talking about men. Sarah introduced her to the son of a viscount she knew. Elizabeth and the man got on like a house on fire. My sister suggested she pursue the young man, in an effort to sow her wild oats, I suppose, for she’d told my fiancée that I would break the marriage bond more sooner rather than later so why shouldn’t she have fun before that happened?” He huffed out a breath. “So Elizabeth took him as a lover.”

“And that wounded your pride.”

“Oh, yes.” The pain he expected to come… didn’t. There was a dull ache around his heart, but it wasn’t nearly as intense as it had been. “She thought I wasn’t aware, they both thought they were keeping a secret from me, but gossip always tells. Then came the day when Elizabeth told me that she was in love with this man, that what she felt for him was true and better than what she had with me, even if I was a duke.”

“Knowing you, your anger hit a tipping point.” One of Imogen’s eyebrows rose in question. “You couldn’t just let her go with grace, could you?”

“No” A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, for it was comforting how well she knew him. “I challenged her man to a duel, which were quite illegal. Still are.” He shrugged. “He accepted, said he would fight any number of duels if it meant he’d win Elizabeth’s hand.” He remained quiet for the space of a few heartbeats while he fought with the memories. “So we faced each other in Hyde Park one rainy night.”

“And you killed him.”

“Yes, but unfortunately, at the last second, Elizabeth lunged in front of him, to protect him. The ball went through her throat to lodge in her lover’s heart.” It sounded horrible when spoken out loud, but it was the truth. Finally, it was out, though. He’d never told anyone about that day, not even most of his club members. Possibly Eggleton knew but he wasn’t certain.

Imogen gasped. Her eyes rounded as she pulled back and stared at him. “Good heavens. You killed them both?”

“I did, and in many ways, it was a relief, for if I’d only killed him, I wouldn’t have wanted to go ahead with the marriage to her, knowing I would never hold her heart even if she had mine.” Did he sound deranged? “Of course, it was hushed up and considered an accident, which her death was. Being a duke does have its privileges, but that didn’t mean I could ever forget.”

Still with shock in her eyes, she watched him. “What about your sister?”

“Once Sarah was given the news that her best friend essentially gave her life to save her lover, she was inconsolable.” Only then did moisture well in his eyes. “She refused to listen to my apologies, refused to forgive me for what I did. I went into her turret room, which is where she felt the most at ease, and she railed at me, told me that sometimes in the future, my arrogance and pride would cost me everything. Wanted to know how I could be angry at anyone for finding true love, even if it wasn’t with me.”

“She didn’t mean those words, Alan; she was merely overset with grief. Your father was gone, and your mother was unavailable. She probably thought she had no one to talk with.”

“Perhaps, but I’d never seen her so angry.” Unable to remain close to his wife, he left the sofa in order to stand at the open balcony door. The relatively cool air danced over his skin and helped to temper his own emotions. “My sister refused to be consoled, refused to talk to me after that. I thought giving her time and space would usher in clearheaded thinking.”

“But it didn’t.” Imogen’s voice sounded directly behind him, but he didn’t turn around.

“No.” The word was yanked from his tight throat. “When she didn’t come to dinner the following evening, I set out to search for her. She wasn’t in the house, but her maid said Sarah had intended to go out to Hyde Park to look at the water.” Emotion lodged in his throat as tears stung his eyes. “By the time I drove out there, it was mid-morning. There was a crowd near the deep part of the Serpentine. I assume people were either bathing or fishing, but when I came closer, I saw her stretched out on the bank. Someone had pulled her from the water.”

“Oh, Alan. I’m so sorry.” She laid a hand on his back. “I’ll wager she drowned herself, didn’t she?”

“Yes.” He broke, then, couldn’t hold back his feelings or his reaction as he’d been doing for the past three years. “It was the only way she could square with everything, the only way out from the deluge of pain.” A half-stifled sob left his throat, and when Imogen gently turned him about, he didn’t fight her. “She preferred death over staying in this life with me, the man she hated until her last breath.”

“Please know that she wasn’t in her right mind at the time.” Imogen wrapped her arms around him and held him close. “Grief comes out in different ways for different people, it can even show itself as anger as I think you know.”

He clung to her as if she were his only beacon in a dark world. “I didn’t mean to kill her best friend, Imogen. Elizabeth put herself in the line of fire.” Letting the emotions out from where he’d kept them for so long was a bit odd, but it was freeing at the same time. “Perhaps I was too possessive or fell too hard…”

“Or you were still trying to come to terms with your father’s death, your own grief, your mother’s defection and disappointment.” She stroked a hand up and down his back. “It’s difficult, I know. All those deaths on your conscience flooded you, caused you to close yourself down, so you hid behind vices, made yourself into the worst duke because it was easier than knowing you failed, realizing that you committed a crime.”

“If I had to do it again, I would have still challenged the man to a duel. Elizabeth broke my heart with her betrayal.” God, he thought he would never work through that pain. “When I assumed you were running off to meet a lover…”

“I know. Emotions run deep when we let ourselves care about something or someone.”

For a few seconds, he stood in the circle of her arms, clinging to her while his tears fell. “I failed her.” Another sob interrupted his words. “I am forever disappointing everyone in my life. Including you.”

“You haven’t thus far. Did I hate you in the beginning? Of course, but now that I’m coming to understand you, learn what drives you, I believe I’m better equipped to help you.”

Hot anger flared, but it died a quick death, for he didn’t need it as a defense any longer. “I’m not a charity or something you need to fix.”

“I never said I wanted to fix you. You are who you are, and so am I. That should be enough.”

Was it that simple? “It should have been me in the Serpentine.”

“So your mother and sister could mourn for you?”

“But I—”

“So I could have mourned for a life I was promised but never had?”

He’d never thought of it in those terms before. “Miriam will die thinking the worst of me as well.” It was almost too much to bear.

“She loves you, Alan. Just as you are, because she could see the good in you, buried under all the muck.” Imogen pulled away just enough to frame his face with her hands. Her gaze bored into his. “Listen to me, Averly.” The quiet command of a duchess rang in her soft voice. “Life unfolds as it does, and sometimes there is nothing we can do about it. We will fail at times. It doesn’t necessarily mean we are bad people.”

“I murdered someone.”

“So did I.” Nothing except earnestness reflected in her eyes. “So if you think you are a horrid person then you must think the same of me.”

“The crimes aren’t the same.”

“Murder is murder, Alan. We will forever be haunted by what we’ve done, and we made those decisions alone, regardless of the mindset or the circumstances.” As she continued to hold his gaze, he teetered on the edge then tumbled into those blue depths into a welcoming peace he hadn’t had for far too many years. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t move forward and do good in the hopes we can scrub some of the darkness from our souls. Change the narrative that society has of you—of us. Make people see we aren’t our pasts. None of that will be possible unless we forgive ourselves first.”

“Have you forgiven yourself?”

She shrugged and dropped her hands to his chest. “Some days yes, some days no. It is something I constantly struggle with. Probably always will.”

The fact she could stand there and reassure him while facing her own demons humbled him. He’d been a cad to her most of the time, showed her the worst sides of himself, yet she had stayed when she would have been well within her rights not to. In that moment, as he was at one of the lowest points in his life, when he’d shown her what a mess he truly was, he lost another piece of his heart to her. “I’m sorry. I’ve been an arse.”

A slow smile curved her lips. “That is the most truthful thing you’ve said to me since this marriage began.” As she slipped her hands beneath his dressing gown to skim over his bare skin, he shivered from her touch. “Don’t fight changing, Alan. Neither will I. Perhaps we’ll learn how to be friends along the way.”

What if I am no longer content just to remain friends or companions?

Since there were no immediate answers, he did what he always did—took her into his arms and set out to kiss her senseless.