Page 25 of Wedded to the Duke of Sin (Dukes of Passion #2)

CHAPTER 25

“ T ell me about Lawrence,” Alice said softly as they strolled through their garden in the gathering dusk.

The evening air was perfumed with the scent of blooming roses, and the high walls offered them rare privacy in the heart of London.

Dorian’s hand tightened around hers. “He was the best of men. Honest, kind, without an ounce of pretense despite his rank.”

“How did you meet?”

“At Cambridge. During a boxing match at Jackson’s, my opponent took a bad fall. While others just stood around wagering on whether he’d get up, Lawrence vaulted over the ropes to help him.” His lips curled into a faint smile at the memory. “That was Lawrence—always ready to assist, never concerned with how it might appear..”

“You must have been close.”

“He was more of a brother than a friend.” Dorian led her to a stone bench beside a small fountain, its gentle burbling providing cover for a private conversation. “After my father… well, Lawrence was the first person who saw past my title, past the careful facade I’d constructed. He had a way of making me want to be better simply by believing that I already was.”

Alice squeezed his hand, understanding now why protecting Sarah meant so much to him. “Tell me more about him.”

“He loved poetry—Milton, especially. Could quote entire passages from memory. He was hopeless at cards but would play anyway because he enjoyed the company more than the game.” Dorian’s voice grew soft with remembrance. “The ton deemed him quiet, perhaps even dull. They never knew his wit, his dreams, his plans for modernizing the estate.”

“And then he met Sarah.”

“Yes.” Dorian smiled. “You should have seen him, Alice. He looked like a man who’d discovered sunlight after years in shadow. He didn’t care that she wasn’t from our circle. He saw her kindness, her intelligence, her strength.”

“Rather like how you see past Society’s expectations,” Alice observed.

His eyes met hers, something intense flickering in their depths. “Perhaps Lawrence taught me that too—to value truth over appearance, substance over show.”

“And his death?” she prompted gently.

“Was far too convenient for certain parties.” Dorian’s voice hardened. “Lawrence was strong, vital. The healthiest man I knew. Then, he suddenly began wasting away, growing weaker by the day.”

“You suspect foul play,” Alice concluded.

“I have no proof. Only knowledge of a man whose lust for the earldom was unseemly even before Lawrence’s death.” Dorian’s fingers traced patterns on her palm. “Treyfield never bothered to hide his resentment of the fact that his younger brother inherited the earldom instead of him. When his brother died and Lawrence became Earl… well, let’s say that his attention to his nephew became rather intense.”

“You think he—” Alice couldn’t quite bring herself to say the words.

“I think Lawrence’s symptoms were remarkably similar to certain slow-acting poisons. I think Treyfield’s greedy nature overcame whatever vestige of familial bonds there were.” Dorian drew her closer as if seeking comfort. “But proving any of it would be nearly impossible, especially now.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the fountain’s music mixing with the evening birdsong. Alice studied his profile in the fading light, seeing not the notorious rake Society painted him as, but a man consumed by loyalty to his friend, willing to risk everything to protect those Lawrence loved.

“Now you understand,” Dorian said quietly, “why I couldn’t tell you at first. The fewer people who knew about Sarah, the safer she would be. And once I began to care for you…”

“You wanted to protect me, too.” Alice touched his cheek, turning his face toward hers. “My honorable husband, always trying to shoulder the world’s burdens alone.”

“Not alone.” Dorian’s eyes darkened as he lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Not anymore.”

The simple gesture sent heat through her body. “Dorian…”

“Say that again.” His voice had dropped to that dangerous whisper that made her shiver.

“What?”

“My name.” His thumb traced circles on her wrist. “Not ‘Your Grace’. Just Dorian. The way you said it just now, like it was something precious.”

“Dorian.” She leaned closer, drawn by the intensity of his gaze. “My Dorian.”

His breath caught. “Again.”

Instead of speaking, she pressed her lips to his, a gentle exploration that quickly turned into something more heated. His arms wound around her, pulling her flush against him as their kiss grew frenzied.

“Here?” he murmured against her mouth, even as his hands roamed over her back. “Someone might see us.”

“The servants are having dinner.” She nipped his lower lip. “And I do not particularly care who sees us.”

His laugh vibrated against her chest. “My proper duchess, suggesting impropriety in the garden? What would the ton say?”

“That you’ve corrupted me thoroughly.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Now, kiss me again before I lose my courage.”

“As my duchess commands.”

His mouth claimed hers again, and she lost herself in the heat building between them.

Dorian’s hands, warm and sure, traced the elegant curve of her waist, pulling her closer as the scent of evening roses wrapped around them. The garden was theirs alone, the quiet hum of the world fading until nothing remained but the press of his body against hers and the slow, intoxicating slide of his lips down the column of her throat.

She gasped as his lips grazed the spot below her ear. He exhaled, and his warm breath sent shivers down her spine. He nipped her skin before soothing it with his tongue.

“The taste of you,” he murmured against her shoulder, his voice a low rumble of pleasure. “I could lose myself in it.”

With a deliberate slowness that made her pulse race, he shrugged off his coat and spread it over the soft grass. Then, with infinite care, he guided her down, cradling her as though she was something precious.

“You’ll catch a cold,” he teased, though his restraint was unraveling.

His fingers traced the exposed skin at her neckline, dipping just beneath the delicate fabric.

Alice reached for him, her uncertainty slipping away like the last rays of sunlight. “Then keep me warm.”

A husky chuckle escaped him before his lips found hers again, deepening the kiss, drawing her under the spell of his touch, his warmth, his devotion.

Dorian’s hand ventured lower, lifting her gown and grazing her thigh. Alice wanted more. She loosened the laces of her bodice, freeing her breasts. The next moment, he gave her what she wanted.

His lips closed around her nipple, and he sucked on it while his hand cupped her other breast.

Alice raised her hips, pleasure driving her. She wanted him— needed him.

Dorian moved his fingers up her thigh to her mound. Then, he parted her folds and played with her pearl. She ground her hips against his hand, forgetting where they were. Not caring. When his thumb circled the sensitive bud, moans tore out of her throat. She writhed beneath him, begging him to push her over the edge.

“Not yet, darling.” Dorian’s voice was low and husky.

He moved down her body, lowered his head between her thighs, and licked up her slit. Alice let out a guttural moan, lifting her hips as his tongue flicked her pearl.

She threaded her fingers through his hair and held his head there, letting him devour her. Her hips moved in rhythm with his tongue until her body tensed, her inner muscles contracting as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. She thrashed against him, growing sensitive from his ministrations. When the last pulse of pleasure left her body, she collapsed on the ground, spent and satiated.

Dorian collapsed next to her and slipped his arm under her head. They lay together on his discarded evening coat, listening to the gentle splash of the fountain and the distant sounds of London. Alice curled up against his chest, savoring the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear.

“We should go inside,” Dorian murmured, though he made no move to release her. Instead, his fingers traced idle patterns along her spine.

“Not yet.” She intertwined her fingers with his and brought their joined hands to rest between them. “Thank you for telling me about Sarah. About all of it.”

His thumb brushed across her knuckles. “I should have told you sooner.”

“Perhaps.” She pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “But I understand why you didn’t. You were trying to protect everyone.”

“I am not very good at letting others help carry my burdens.”

“Well then,” she smiled against his skin, “it’s fortunate that you married a very stubborn woman.”

His soft laugh rumbled in his chest. “Fortunate, indeed.”

They lay in comfortable silence for a moment longer before the cooling night air finally forced them to move.

As Dorian helped her to her feet, straightening her gown with careful hands, Alice felt something shift between them—as if the last walls guarding their hearts had begun to crumble.

Not love, not yet. But perhaps something just as precious, like trust.