Page 12 of Wedded to the Duke of Sin (Dukes of Passion #2)

CHAPTER 12

“ S uch a charming betrothal, Your Grace.” Treyfield’s voice cut through the celebratory atmosphere of the card room. “Though rather hastily arranged, wouldn’t you say?”

Dorian turned slowly from his conversation with Gregory, keeping his expression carefully neutral. “Did you want something, Treyfield?”

“Merely offering my congratulations.”

Treyfield settled into a nearby chair with the casual assurance of one born in privilege, though it had only been six months since he had acquired his new title.

“You know, I was just telling Lady Jersey how gratifying it is to see the earldom finally reaching its true potential. Such a relief after years of… shall we say, youthful mismanagement? Though it would be a terrible shame if any of Lawrence’s more questionable associations were to surface now. The ton can be so unforgiving of scandal.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes as he continued. “Lady Alice is quite the prize. Beautiful, well-bred… desperate.”

Dorian’s hand tightened around his glass. “Choose your next words with extreme care.”

“Come now.” Treyfield leaned forward lowering his voice. “We both know why you announced that engagement. A compromised lady, a convenient rescue—it’s all very noble. But is it wise?”

“I wasn’t aware I required your opinion on the matter.”

“Perhaps you should. After all, you are taking on a wife with such complicated family connections. As I said, the ton can be so unforgiving of scandal.” Treyfield’s smile turned predatory. “Almost as unforgiving as they might be of certain other secrets. Regarding my nephew, Lawrence, for instance.”

Gregory stepped forward, but Dorian held up a hand to stop him. “Let me be perfectly clear.” His voice dropped to a dangerous murmur. “If you ever speak of my fiancée in such terms again, our next conversation will be considerably less civilized.”

“Threatening violence, Your Grace?” Treyfield’s eyes glittered. “How very… protective of you. One might almost think that you actually care for the girl.”

“One might think that you are trying my patience.”

“You can’t protect everyone, Your Grace.” Treyfield glanced meaningfully toward the ballroom, where Alice was dancing with her brother. “The more people you try to shield, the more vulnerable they become.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Merely an observation.” Treyfield rose with exaggerated dignity, brushing an invisible speck from his perfectly tailored coat. “One must be so careful with reputations. Both old and new. Do give my regards to your lovely fiancée. And to our mutual friend, wherever she might be.”

As Treyfield withdrew, Gregory let out a low whistle. “Well, that was about as subtle as a brick through a window.”

“He’s showing his hand too soon.” Dorian watched Alice through the doorway, something fierce and protective tightening in his chest at the sight of her. “And now I’ve given him another target.”

“You could have handled the situation differently.”

“Could I?” Dorian turned to his friend. “You saw how quickly gossip spreads. One hint of scandal and her reputation would have been ruined.”

“Ah yes, purely practical considerations.” Gregory’s smile was knowing. “Nothing at all to do with how you’ve been watching her all evening. Or how your hand keeps straying to where you can still feel her kiss.”

Dorian dropped his hand from his lips. “You are enjoying this far too much.”

“Can you blame me? The notorious Duke of Ashthorne, brought low by love, at last.”

“This isn’t love. It’s?—”

“Protection? Duty? Convenient timing?” Gregory shook his head. “Keep telling yourself that. Though I must say, I’ve never seen you look quite so murderous as when Treyfield mentioned her.”

“He threatened her.”

“He implied a great many things. But you only reacted to one.” Gregory’s expression grew serious. “You are playing a dangerous game, old friend. Treyfield won’t stop until he discovers Sarah’s whereabouts. And now he’ll use Alice to get to you.”

“He won’t touch her.” The words came out in a growl.

“No?” Gregory raised an eyebrow. “And how do you plan to protect both of them? Sarah needs to be moved somewhere safer, but you can’t exactly disappear for days at a time once you are married.”

Dorian watched as Alice laughed at something her brother said, her face lighting up in a way that made his heart twist strangely. “I’ll find a way.”

“You’ll have to tell her the truth, eventually.”

“I know.” But the thought of seeing disappointment in those green eyes made something in him recoil.

“The longer you wait, the worse it will be.”

“Your talent for stating the obvious remains unmatched.”

“Someone has to, since you are obviously not thinking clearly.” Gregory nodded toward the ballroom. “Though I can’t entirely blame you. She is rather spectacular when she’s angry with you.”

“She’s rather spectacular all the time,” Dorian murmured, then caught himself. “Don’t start.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” But Gregory’s grin suggested otherwise. “Though I do hope you know what you are doing.”

Looking at Alice’s profile illuminated by candlelight, Dorian had to admit he hadn’t the faintest idea. But somehow, that didn’t seem to matter anymore.

What mattered was keeping her safe. From Lord Treyfield, from scandal, from his complicated past.

Even, perhaps, from his increasingly inconvenient desire for her.

“A duke!” Thomas hadn’t stopped talking since their carriage took off. “Just think of it, Alice. A duke! And to think I once thought your stubborn nature would make it impossible to secure a good match.”

Alice pressed her fingers to her temples, where a headache had been building since the announcement. The townhouse’s familiar entrance hall, usually so welcoming, felt stifling tonight.

“Yes, Thomas. He’s a duke. As you’ve mentioned. Repeatedly.”

“But not just any duke! Ashthorne’s estates are among the finest in England. And his townhouse in Mayfair?—”

“Thomas.” She sank into a chair, not caring that her ballgown would crease. “Please.”

“Are you quite well?” Thomas finally seemed to notice her exhaustion. “You are rather pale. Though I suppose that’s to be expected. Such excitement! When do you think?—”

“I believe,” she cut in, “I shall retire.”

“But we haven’t discussed the settlement yet! And there’s the matter of dates to consider. Lady Westhaven suggested?—”

“Tomorrow.” The word came out sharper than she had intended. Her voice softened at his startled expression. “We can discuss everything tomorrow.”

“Of course, of course.” He peered at her more closely. “You know, I was a bit worried about Ashthorne’s reputation at first. All those rumors about his activities. But clearly, they were exaggerated. The way he looks at you—” He broke into a wide smile. “Well, love changes a person, doesn’t it? I am an example of a reformed man thanks to love.”

The word ‘love’ stuck in her throat. Her fingers twisted in her skirts, remembering instead the heat of Dorian’s kiss, the possession in his touch. That wasn’t love—it was desire, pure and dangerous.

“Thomas, I?—”

She stopped herself just in time. How could she tell him the truth? That her perfect match was nothing but a hasty rescue from scandal?

“Yes?” Thomas prompted, oblivious to her distress. “I must say, it’s rather perfect timing. Our connection with the Duke will silence any whispers about our family’s finances. And his influence in Society! Why, doors that have been closed to us these past years will fly open now.”

The practical advantages he listed only made her feel worse. Her throat constricted with unshed tears.

This was what she’d wanted, wasn’t it? A solution to their problems? Yet, somehow, hearing Thomas enumerate the benefits of her marriage like a business arrangement made her feel hollow inside.

“I am just overwhelmed.”

“And who wouldn’t be?” Thomas ran his hand through his hair, reminding her painfully of when they were children and he would get excited about some new scheme. “A duke! Wait until I write to Aunt Margaret. She always said you were too independent to make a good match, but now look at you! The toast of the ton!”

She wanted to scream that she hadn’t done anything clever or calculating. That instead of the carefully planned alliance he imagined, she’d been caught in a moment of reckless passion that had forced the Duke’s hand. But the joy on her brother’s face halted her words.

“Naturally!” He kissed her cheek, the gesture achingly familiar. “Get some rest. Tomorrow, we’ll start planning your life as a duchess!”

She managed to maintain her smile until she reached her chamber, where Mary was waiting to help her prepare for bed.

“Oh, my lady!” The maid practically bounced up and down with excitement. “Is it true? The whole house is buzzing with the news! Cook says that her cousin’s friend, who works at the Westhavens’, told her?—”

“Yes, Mary.” Alice sank into her dressing table chair. “I am going to marry the Duke of Ashthorne.”

Mary’s squeal might have shattered glass. “A duke! Oh, my lady, just wait until I tell my sister. She always said you were meant for great things, even when that horrible Lady Jersey said you were too independent to secure a good match.”

“Mary—”

“And such a handsome duke too!” Mary began removing the hairpins with rather more enthusiasm than care. “Though Cook’s cousin’s friend says that he’s a terrible rake. But I am sure that’s just gossip. And anyway, the wicked ones always make the best husbands once they’re reformed. Just like in those love stories my grandmother used to tell us while peeling potatoes in the kitchen.”

Despite herself, Alice felt her lips twitch. “I am not sure life follows the plot of kitchen love stories.”

“But it’s so romantic!” Mary moved to the wardrobe, already planning ahead. “You’ll need a whole new trousseau, of course. A duchess can’t wear last Season’s styles. Oh! Will you have it made in Paris? I heard the new Duchess of Rutland did.”

“I haven’t really?—”

“And of course, you’ll need new ballgowns. A duchess must entertain! Cook says that the ballroom at Ashthorne House is magnificent.” Mary sighed dreamily as she helped Alice out of her gown. “Just think, my lady. Your own grand house, with dozens of servants, jewels, carriages…”

Alice stared at her reflection in the dressing table mirror. She barely recognized the woman who looked back at her—pale, wide-eyed, with kiss-swollen lips that made her flush at the memory.

“Then there’s the wedding dress itself to consider,” Mary continued as she brushed out Alice’s hair. “White is all the rage now, though I always thought you looked lovely in ivory. And pearls, of course. Though I suppose you’ll have diamonds now. A duchess must have diamonds.”

“Mary.” Alice caught the maid’s hand, stilling it. “I am rather tired.”

“Oh! Of course, my lady. How thoughtless of me, chattering on when you’ve had such an exciting evening.” Mary helped her into her nightgown, still beaming. “Though I must say, you don’t seem nearly excited enough about marrying a duke. If I were you?—”

“Yes, well.” Alice slipped between the cool sheets. “You are not me, are you?”

She regretted her sharp tone immediately, as Mary’s face fell.

“No, my lady. I am sorry. I just… I am happy for you. We all are.”

Alice softened. “I know. Thank you, Mary. I am just overwhelmed.”

“Of course.” Mary brightened again. “Shall I lay out the green morning dress tomorrow? The one that matches your eyes? In case His Grace calls.”

The thought of facing Dorian in the cold light of day made Alice’s stomach flutter. “Yes, fine. Whatever you think best.”

After Mary finally left, Alice lay in the darkness, remembering the heat of Dorian’s kiss, the possessive way he’d held her while they danced, the dangerous flash in his eyes when Lord Treyfield had approached them.