Page 24 of Wedded to the Duke of Sin (Dukes of Passion #2)

CHAPTER 24

“ D id you enjoy the evening, sweetheart?” Dorian’s voice cut through the tense atmosphere in the carriage, but his attempt at casual conversation fell flat.

“As much as one can enjoy being abandoned at a dinner party,” Alice replied, keeping her gaze fixed on the passing shadows beyond the window.

“I’ve already apologized for that. The matter was urgent?—”

“Yes, your mysterious urgent business.” She couldn’t quite keep the bitterness out of her voice. “How fortunate you are to have such consuming affairs to attend to.”

The double meaning of her words hung between them.

Dorian shifted in his seat, and she could feel his eyes on her face, though she refused to meet his gaze.

“Alice.” His voice softened. “Look at me.”

“I have a headache.” She pressed her fingers to her temples, not entirely faking the pain that had been building since Lord Treyfield’s insinuations. “I would prefer silence for the remainder of the journey.”

The leather seats creaked as Dorian leaned back. She could sense his frustration in his slow, heavy breaths, in the way his hand tightened on his knee.

Good. Let him feel an ounce of her inner turmoil.

The London streets passed in a blur of lamplight and shadow. The silence in the carriage grew thick enough to choke on, broken only by the steady clip-clop of hooves and the rattle of wheels on cobblestones.

Alice’s spine was rigid, though her body yearned to lean into the familiar warmth of her husband’s presence.

“Some men are not so easily reformed …”

Lord Treyfield’s words echoed in her mind, and she squeezed her eyes shut against the implications.

When the carriage finally drew to a stop before their townhouse, Dorian moved to help her down. She withdrew her hand the moment her feet touched the ground, pretending not to notice the hurt that flashed across his face.

“Perhaps some tea would help relieve your headache,” he suggested as they entered the house. “I could have Wilson?—”

“That won’t be necessary.” She was already moving toward the stairs. “I shall retire immediately. Charity can attend me.”

“Alice, wait.” He caught her arm gently. “We should talk about?—”

“Not tonight.” She pulled free of his grasp. “As I said, I have a headache.”

She flew up the stairs before he could respond, hating the cowardice that made her run even though she couldn’t bear to face whatever lies or half-truths he might offer.

Charity was waiting in her chambers, already laying out her nightclothes. The maid’s quick fingers made short work of the evening’s elaborate dress, though Alice barely felt the familiar routine of pins being removed and stays being loosened.

“His Grace seemed rather concerned about you, Your Grace,” Charity ventured as she brushed out Alice’s hair. “Shall I send for tea? Or perhaps some lavender water for your head?”

“No.” Alice glanced at herself in the mirror, hardly recognizing the brittle smile she wore. “Just help me prepare for bed.”

“Very good, Your Grace.” But the maid’s worried gaze followed her as she moved about the room. “Though if you do not mind my saying, you seem out of sorts.”

“I mind very much.” Alice’s tone made the girl flinch. “That will be all for tonight.”

As soon as Charity left, Alice moved to the door connecting her chambers to Dorian’s. Her hand trembled slightly as she turned the key in the lock, the quiet click seeming to echo in the silence of her room.

She pressed her forehead against the smooth wood, remembering other nights when that door had remained open. Nights when Dorian’s smile had held nothing but warmth, when his touch had made her feel cherished rather than uncertain.

But she couldn’t bear to face him tonight, couldn’t trust herself not to demand answers she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear. Better to lock her heart along with her door—at least until she could think clearly again.

Still, as she climbed into her too-large bed, she couldn’t help but strain her ears for any sound from his chambers. Did he pace as she longed to do? Did he stand on the other side of the locked door, his hand raised to knock? Or had he already left again, called away by another urgent business matter that she couldn’t know about?

Sleep kept eluding her, but when it finally claimed her, her dreams were haunted by the image of Lord Treyfield’s knowing smile and the memory of her husband’s careful lies.

The brandy burned a familiar path down Dorian’s throat as he stood before the fireplace. The amber liquid offered no solutions to the impossible tangle he found himself in. Every instinct demanded that he protect Alice from the growing danger surrounding him and Sarah. Yet, in doing so, he risked losing the very thing he hadn’t known he needed until she burst into his life.

“Phillips.” He set down his glass with perhaps more force than necessary. “I’ll retire for the evening.”

His valet appeared silently, helping him shed his evening coat and cravat with the efficiency of long practice. Dorian barely registered the familiar routine, his mind fixed on the woman who lay just beyond the connecting door.

“Will there be anything else, Your Grace?” Phillips asked as he folded the discarded clothing.

“No.” Dorian dismissed him with a wave. “That will be all.”

Alone at last, he moved through his darkened chambers toward the connecting door. He would explain—not everything, but enough to alleviate the hurt he’d seen in her eyes. Enough to bridge this growing chasm between them before it became unbridgeable.

The door’s handle refused to turn.

Locked.

The realization hit him like a physical blow. Since the beginning of their marriage, even when they maintained their distance, that door had remained unlocked. Its closure now felt like a statement.

Dorian pressed his forehead against the smooth wood, remembering other nights when he’d crossed the threshold to find her waiting. The sweet curve of her smile, the way her body melted at his touch, the soft sounds she made when he?—

He pushed away from the door before the memories could torment him further. But even as he lay in his too-empty bed, sleep proved elusive. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Alice’s face—hurt warring with pride as she withdrew from him in the carriage.

Honor demanded that he keep his promise to Lawrence—to protect Sarah and their unborn child at any cost. But his heart… his traitorous heart yearned for the one woman whose safety he dared not risk by drawing her into this web of danger and deceit.

He was caught between duty and desire, between a vow to the dead and the chance at a love he’d never expected to find.

Sleep, when it finally came, brought no peace—only dreams of copper hair spread across his pillow and green eyes filled with trust he no longer deserved.

The next morning brought no relief from the tension between them. Breakfast was a silent affair, broken only by the clink of silver against china and the rustle of Dorian’s newspaper. Alice barely touched her food, her rigid posture speaking volumes about her state of mind.

He had just retreated to his study when the door burst open.

Alice stood in the doorway, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright with something that looked dangerously close to tears.

“I cannot do this anymore,” she announced, closing the door firmly behind her. “These secrets between us—I won’t live this way.”

Dorian set down his quill. “Alice?—”

“No.” She lifted her chin. “You will listen to me. I have been patient. I have tried to accept this mysterious business that calls you away at all hours. I have endured the whispers and the speculation about your activities in certain parts of London. But after last night…” Her voice cracked, and something in his chest twisted painfully.

“What did Treyfield say to you?”

“Does it matter? The truth is clear enough in your actions.” She moved closer to his desk. “If you cannot trust me with whatever burden you carry, then this marriage is nothing but an elaborate charade.”

Looking at her—proud and vulnerable and so desperately trying to be strong—Dorian knew he couldn’t maintain his silence any longer.

“You’re right.” He rose from his chair and rounded his desk to take her hands in his own. “You deserve the truth. All of it.”

She blinked, clearly not expecting his capitulation. “I’m listening.”

“Not here.” He squeezed her fingers. “Let me show you instead.”

An hour later, their carriage pulled up before a respectable boarding house on Crawford Street. Alice’s questioning looks had given way to quiet observation as they traveled through progressively less fashionable neighborhoods.

“What is this place?”

“Somewhere safe.” He helped her down, keeping her hand in his. “There’s someone you need to meet.”

Sarah was waiting in a small but tidy parlor, her embroidery set aside as they entered. She struggled to rise to her feet.

“Your Grace.” She curtsied awkwardly. “And… oh. You must be the Duchess.”

Understanding dawned in Alice’s eyes as she took in Sarah’s condition. “This is what you’ve been protecting.”

“Lawrence’s child,” Dorian confirmed quietly. “And its mother.”

Over the next hour, Sarah recounted the full story—Lawrence’s love for her, his plans to marry her, his mysterious death, and Dorian’s promise to protect them both. Alice listened intently, asking occasional questions but mostly observing her with growing sympathy.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, turning to Dorian.

“The fewer people who knew, the safer they would be.” He met her eyes. “And after we got married, I couldn’t bear to risk your safety.”

“You foolish man.” But her voice held more fondness than censure. “Did it not occur to you that I might help? That carrying this burden alone was unnecessary?”

“I am beginning to realize that.” He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Forgive me?”

“Perhaps.” Her fingers curled around his. “Though you’ll have to work quite hard to earn back my trust.”

“I look forward to the challenge.”

Sarah smiled at their exchange. “Lawrence would have liked you,” she told Alice. “He always said that His Grace needed someone who could match his stubborn nature.”

“Then I shall try to live up to his expectations.” Alice’s expression softened as she regarded Sarah. “And we shall make sure that his child enters this world surrounded by friends.”

Looking between the two women—one he’d sworn to protect, one who’d stolen his heart—Dorian felt something tight in his chest finally begin to loosen. The road ahead would not be easy, but at least now he no longer walked it alone.