Page 19 of Promised to the Worst Duke in England (Disreputable Dukes of Club Damnation #2)

July 2, 1815

Denham House

St. James Place

Mayfair, England

Wallace Denham, Duke of Eggleton, came into the adjoining dressing room of the suite he shared with his wife. She’d had a bath ordered about a half hour ago while he’d been reading the paper in the drawing room, but now, guided by an ever-present desire he carried for her, he thought to get up to wicked things with her tonight.

It had been two days since Averly’s annual midsummer ball, and this year didn’t fail to cause a sensation but in a different way than usual. Why? Because damned Averly had nearly been killed, on a misguided order from his wife made before they had wed. The plan had been thwarted but then the nuptial pair, who had only been married for a week at that point, declared their love for each other before he was brought back to his ball bleeding profusely from a gunshot wound in his shoulder.

“Quite the sensation, wasn’t it at Averly’s ball?” he asked as he dismissed his wife’s maid then made quick work of shedding his clothing. “I can’t believe that was two nights ago.”

Abigail turned her head away from the book she’d been reading and sent him a smile. “Love is a strange and mysterious thing, Eggleton. You should know that. Our own union has had its challenges.”

“Indeed.” And if he wasn’t careful, the one she didn’t know about could potentially wrench them apart. Once he was completely nude, he joined her in the long porcelain tub, framing her body with his by encouraging her to lean backward against his front. The hardness in his shaft spoke to an urgency he always felt just before carnally joining with her.

She murmured something he couldn’t quite catch then he wasted no time in cupping her wet breasts. “Is there an update on Averly’s health? I do hope he will make a full recovery. He is quite a handsome man.”

A thread of jealousy went through Wallace’s chest. As he skated his palms over those soft mounds of flesh, her nipples tightened from the initial play. “Udolpho came back to Town earlier today. I caught up with him at the club before I left to share dinner with you. He said that since the ball went cleanly through the shoulder without hitting bone, Averly should have no trouble healing.” Temporarily distracted with brushing the pads of his thumbs over those turgid peaks, he was recalled to the subject matter when she gave his inner thigh a pinch. “The physician Averly had in to check the wound told him to rest and do nothing strenuous for the remainder of the summer, and that his arm will be in a sling for about six weeks, but by early autumn, he will have full range of motion.”

“Mmm.” Did she say that in response to the story or to what he was doing to her breasts? Her head lolled back onto his shoulder. “Somehow I don’t think he’ll let his injury keep him from being with his wife in all the ways that matter.”

“Neither do I. And besides, a man doesn’t need two arms to make love to his lady.” So saying, Wallace spent a few minutes teasing Abigail’s breasts while pressing kisses beneath the edge of her jaw. When her back arched and a bit of the water sloshed perilously close to the lip of the tub, he grinned. It was always thrilling when he could arouse his wife after all these years together. “Do you think it’ll be Steppingford’s turn into parson’s mousetrap next or one of the other men?”

“I really couldn’t say.” Her voice was breathless, which was a sure sign she would soon fall over that edge. “Though if Steppingford does marry next, I will be quite surprised.”

“So will I, but I swear there is something not quite right with Nottingham’s failed marriage,” he said while rolling one of her nipples with one hand. His other he slipped down her body and beneath the water to delve between her thighs. “I am not convinced his love for his former wife is dead.”

“It would take much to kill a love that is true.” A whimper escaped her throat as she bent her legs at the knee and spread her thighs to grant him greater access. “And if the divorce was forced by things beyond his control, perhaps he’ll renew the fight for her.”

“Only time will tell.” The moment he coaxed the swelling nubbin at her center out of hiding, she bit back a squeal. “Right now, the only woman who holds my attention is you.” He rubbed a couple of fingers over that button. “Once I send you over the edge perhaps a couple of times in this tub, I’m going to claim your body on the bed until you cry mercy.”

A shiver racked her shoulders and transferred to him. “Do your worst, Eggleton.” She turned her head and gave him a wicked grin. “You know how I like it.”

“I do, indeed.” As soon as he kissed her, he was lost to the wonder of his wife’s body, and he hoped to God that would never end.