Page 14 of The Duke’s Defiant Angel (Dukes Gone Dirty #1)

14

I t was so silly to be nervous.

Evangeline was well aware that she was being utterly ridiculous, and yet she could not make her belly stop quivering with nerves as she toyed with the food on her plate.

“We don’t have to go, of course,” Raff said from the far end of the table.

She blinked. What was he on about? It was hard to say what with their sitting so far apart and all. Unlike at the country estate, the townhouse had one long dining room table, and his servants had set them so far apart it would have been comical if she were in the mood to laugh.

She was not, however, in a highly laughable mood.

“To the Bermans’ ball tomorrow night?” he said, arching a brow and holding up an invite in such a way that she felt certain he’d said as much at least twice before.

“Oh, yes,” she said, forcing a smile. “I have no preference.”

This was a lie. What was more, it was a lie, and they both knew it.

She wasn’t sure why she’d said it, to be honest, but it had Raff’s gaze growing even more distant than before.

Or maybe that was just the physical distance between them, and she was overreacting.

She set her knife down and gulped. This would not do. Only last night she’d felt closer than ever with her husband. Indeed, he’d held her in his arms, and he’d murmured soft words, meaningless but sweet, until she’d fallen asleep.

But that was last night.

And today, everything was different.

It had been different since the moment she’d woken up in her bedroom of the country estate—alone. She’d then been hurried along by her lady’s maid to ready herself for the morning’s journey back to London.

She’d known they were returning, of course, but she hadn’t expected everything to feel so very different upon her return.

She glanced over at an unfamiliar footman who stood guard by the doorway.

Perhaps it was the fact that this was a new home, with all new people. Her gaze returned to her husband, who was still sorting through all the correspondence that had been waiting for them—for him, rather—upon their return.

All invitations. All for society events that she typically avoided. Which he knew.

And yet, she’d felt compelled to lie and say she had no opinion. Why?

But she knew why. His words and hers from the night before had not ceased haunting her all day. Their vows in front of God felt like nothing compared to last night’s act.

She squeezed her thighs together as an ache filled her anew at the memory. An ache...and soreness. All day she’d been uncomfortable between her legs, and even now, she kept shifting in her seat to find relief.

But last night… Well, last night, there had been pain, yes, but it had been so far overshadowed by pleasure that pain had been an afterthought. A slight nagging twinge after the initial jolt of pain. And then he’d brought her to heights she hadn’t even dreamed of. He’d petted her and stroked her and teased her with delicious kisses until she’d exploded with release.

Twice, in fact.

And now, today, they were here in London. Her parents were here as well, as was Albert. All people she should want to see, but she didn’t, and she couldn’t say why.

It was as if she’d been starting to come to some realization in the country. She’d been starting to feel like herself for the first time in a long time. She and Raff had even been finding common ground, getting to know each other the way a married couple ought.

And that was still the case.

Wasn’t it?

Except, it didn’t feel that way right now. A nagging sensation kept tugging at her belly, and no matter how she tried, she couldn’t bring herself to eat.

She’d felt as though everything had changed the night before.

But now…

Had it?

Or was that her romantic nature painting a rosy glow over a practical event. He needed a sire, that was all. Nothing had changed. Not really.

Mercifully, he let the topic of the ball and all the other events that awaited fall by the wayside and instead filled her in on how this London home was run and who was in charge of what.

It felt every bit like the impersonal business arrangement this marriage had been in the first place. And perhaps still was?

After dinner, she wasn’t certain what to do with herself, and so she retired to a foreign room in a house that felt like it was haunted.

Not with ghosts, though. Oh no, ghosts she could laugh off. It was more like the specters of lovers past that haunted the halls and seemed to live amongst the thick brocade curtains and the canopy over her bed.

How many women had her husband brought to this house? How many women had he pleasured the way he’d done to her?

“Stuff and nonsense,” she muttered to herself as she brushed out her hair in front of the vanity. It wasn’t as though he’d kept mistresses in the duchess’s chambers.

She dropped the brush as she met her reflection with a furrowed brow.

He didn’t, did he? And even if he had, she didn’t care.

But would he again?

Of course he would. He’d told her as much, hadn’t he? He’d said he’d take other lovers after she was with child.

Unless she claimed her spot in his bed, he’d said. Unless she decided she wanted to be the only one to satisfy his needs. That was what he’d said.

And she hadn’t cared. She still didn’t care if he had his needs satisfied elsewhere.

She sat and stared at her reflection as if her image might explain to her why she was lying to herself and what exactly it meant that the thought of Raff with other women felt like glass in her veins.

A knock on her door was a welcome interruption from her thoughts. And when Raff smiled at her in the doorway when she answered, some of that anxiety and fear faded.

“I hate to leave you alone on your first night here,” he said by way of explanation for his presence.

She drew in a quick breath, her heart fluttering in her chest and her belly already heavy with eager anticipation. Mercy, but he’d made a hoyden of her. She was far too eager to feel his hands on her again, to try kissing him the way he’d done to her, to?—

“But I really ought to leave you be,” he finished with a sigh.

She frowned. “Why?”

His lips twitched. “Aren’t you sore, Angel?”

Angel. The word twisted around her and made her warmer than she’d been all day. She was still his angel.

And his wife.

The thought helped to ease her earlier jealousy. And it was jealousy, she could admit that much. But he was her husband. It was only right she be protective of what was hers. “I am a little sore,” she admitted.

His smile was knowing and tender, and it made her heart thud painfully. He leaned in, cupping the back of her head as he kissed her forehead. “Then I shall let you rest. For now.” He wore a wicked grin when he pulled back.

“Raff,” she said, stopping him when he went to walk away.

“Yes?”

“About tomorrow…” She swallowed, not even certain what she wished to say. She felt inexplicably needy. Like a child, she wished for reassurances of some sort. She swallowed back a sigh of irritation with herself. “Never mind.”

“Do you not wish to go to the ball, love?” His voice was so gentle. So understanding.

Had she ever thought him a cold, unfeeling cad? It was almost hard to reconcile her initial impressions with the man she’d come to know these past weeks.

She felt torn down the middle by such a simple question.

Did she wish to go and be seen by everyone? Be gawked at and whispered about? No. But when she imagined staying home alone. Of Raff attending without her. Of every female in attendance watching him with admiration.

Her gut twisted violently.

His brows drew together in concern. “What is it? You seem troubled. You have all day, in fact.”

Her heart flipped in her chest at the questions in his eyes.

Did he think she regretted their time together last night?

Did he regret the things he’d said? The kindness and affection he’d shown her? Was he worried she would form an attachment that he did not want?

She let out a long, weary sigh. Her thoughts were running away from her, and she needed to get her head on straight. “It’s disconcerting being here in a new environment...again.”

His gaze softened with tenderness as he reached out and brushed her long hair back over her shoulder. “My apologies, Angel. I was not thinking about how difficult all this change must be for you.”

Before she could agree or protest, he continued, taking a step back which left her feeling cold all over.

“I’m pushing you, aren’t I?” He shook his head. “I know you are not fond of society outings, and I’d promised you that you would not be required to perform such duties as my duchess.”

“Oh, that’s not?—”

“You should stay home,” he said.

Like a child .

He hadn’t said it. He hadn’t even insinuated such a thing, but an inner voice chided her all the same.

“No,” she said, perhaps too abruptly judging by his arched brows. “I want to go.”

He stared at her for a long moment but finally tipped his chin in acknowledgment. “When the Season is over, you can return to the country if you wish.”

Will you join me ? The words hovered on her tongue, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask.

She felt needy, and that neediness rankled. She didn’t want to need his company. She didn’t want to want it. And she certainly didn’t want to see pity in his gaze when he told her once again that this marriage existed for one reason only—an heir.

He’d never pretended he wanted a real marriage or a family. She’d always dreamt of such a life, but not with him.

When had she started to dream of such a life with Raff?

He was watching her expectantly. She could leave for the country at the end of the Season. Most likely without him.

She nodded. “Very well.”

He left her with a murmured goodnight. But no kiss. No passionate embrace.

She closed the door behind him with a sigh and climbed into her large, empty bed.

She’d see her parents at the ball, most likely. And Albert.

She waited to feel something. Anything. A pang of regret, a pang of remorse.

She felt...nothing.

With a frown, she stared up at the canopy that seemed to weigh down on her like a wet blanket. Why didn’t she feel anything?

What did that say about her? About her feelings?

But the more she tried to call up her love for Albert, the more it felt like she was trying to catch hold of the fog. It slipped through her fingers, growing more and more hazy with each attempt.

The dreams she’d clung to for the past year, before her marriage, now felt like a childish dream.

Two weeks had passed, but it felt like a lifetime.

A future with Albert had never felt...real. It had been based on poetry and stolen touches. No real conversation. They’d never even shared a kiss.

Would Albert have taught her how to touch herself? Would he have been so very gentle when he claimed her as his wife?

She shook her head with an exasperated sigh. She couldn’t imagine lying with Albert, and it felt wrong to even try.

It was disloyal to Raff. But it was more than that. She frowned up at the canopy as she sorted through her muddled emotions. And her lack of emotions.

Whatever it was she’d had with Albert felt completely inconsequential compared to the living, breathing, harsh, brutal, beautiful, passionate reality of living with Raff.

By the time sleep claimed her, Evangeline was only truly certain of one thing.

She’d never loved Albert. She’d merely wanted to be loved. She’d been desperate for it.

But what haunted her dreams and made her toss and turn was the question left in that realization’s wake.

Was it the same with Raff?

Was she so desperate for love that she’d imagined his tenderness? Was he truly the man she wanted?

Or did she just long to be wanted?