Page 29 of Wedded to the Duke of Sin (Dukes of Passion #2)

CHAPTER 29

“ Y our Grace, how providential to find you here!” Treyfield’s voice dripped with honey as he accosted Dorian near the card room at the Duchess of Rutland’s ball. “I’ve been hoping for a moment to clear the air between us.”

Like a snake hoping to charm its prey .

However, Dorian maintained a polite smile. “Have you, indeed?”

“You must know how deeply I regret any misunderstandings.” Treyfield touched his arm in a show of familiarity that made him want to reach for his pistol. “Lawrence would be devastated to see us at odds. He thought so highly of you.”

And you thought so little of him that you murdered him for a title.

But Dorian merely inclined his head. “His opinion meant a great deal to me.”

“To us both.” Treyfield’s eyes glistened with what might have been tears if Dorian didn’t know better. “Which is why I feel I must make amends. I have a business proposition that could benefit us both—a way to honor Lawrence’s memory if you will.”

How many lies can one man tell in a single conversation?

“Most intriguing.”

“I knew you’d see reason.” Treyfield beamed, though something cold lurked behind his genial expression. “Perhaps we might discuss it over brandy? Somewhere more… private?”

Where your men can ensure we’re not interrupted, no doubt.

“Another time, perhaps. I believe my wife is looking for me.”

“Ah yes, the lovely Duchess.” Treyfield’s smile didn’t waver, but his eyes hardened. “What a fortunate match that was. Though one does hope that such hasty unions don’t lead to… regrettable outcomes.”

The subtle threat made Dorian’s hands itch to wrap around the man’s throat. Instead, he gave a cold smile of his own. “Your concern for my marriage is touching. Though perhaps you might focus on your own affairs?”

“But my dear boy, that’s precisely what I’m trying to do.” Treyfield spread his hands in a gesture of openness. “We’re family, after all. Or as good as, given your friendship with my dear late nephew.”

Family you murdered .

But Dorian merely bowed with perfect courtesy. “You must excuse me. I see someone I must speak to.”

Alice tried to focus on Lady Pembroke’s enthusiastic discourse on the new shorter skirts that had scandalized the ton , “Barely grazing the ankle, can you imagine?” but her eyes kept straying to where Dorian stood with Lord Treyfield.

Every line of her husband’s body spoke of tension beneath his polite facade.

“And of course, the puffed sleeves are all the rage in Paris,” Lady Pembroke continued, adjusting her elaborate puffed creation. “Though I find them rather reminiscent of pillows?—”

“Forgive me,” Alice cut in smoothly, “but I believe my husband requires my presence. Do excuse me.”

She crossed the ballroom with measured steps, refusing to show the urgency she felt. As she approached, Dorian’s expression turned from arctic civility to genuine warmth.

“Ah, here’s my duchess now,” he said, offering her his arm.

Once Treyfield had bowed and retreated, Dorian drew her toward the dance floor.

“Perfect timing, sweetheart.”

“I thought you might need rescuing.” She studied his face as they took their places for the quadrille. “What did he want?”

“To present himself as a grieving uncle seeking reconciliation.” Dorian’s hand settled on her waist as the music began. “He’s planning something. We’ll need to play along for now—be civil when we encounter him.”

“While we find out what he’s truly after?” Her fingers tightened on his shoulder as he guided her through a turn.

“Precisely.” His voice dropped. “Though I find it difficult to focus on investigations when you’re wearing that particular shade of blue. It makes your eyes look positively bewitching.”

“Hardly appropriate conversation for a quadrille,” she murmured, though pleasure suffused her cheeks.

“No?” His thumb drew circles on her waist as they moved across the dance floor. “Would you prefer I comment on the weather instead of how that gown makes me want to discover if you’re wearing those silk stockings I’m particularly fond of?”

“Dorian!” Her pulse quickened at the heat in his gaze. “People will notice.”

“Let them. You’re my wife.” His hand pressed possessively on her back as they came together again. “Though perhaps we should make our excuses soon. I find myself desperately needing to discuss estate matters with you.”

“Estate matters?” She couldn’t quite suppress her smile. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“Estate matters seemed a more delicate phrase than what I have in mind,” Dorian murmured as they moved through the intricate steps of the quadrille. The candlelight from the massive chandeliers caught the sapphires at Alice’s throat, drawing his attention to the elegant line of her neck. “Though I must say, watching you navigate these social waters makes me rather proud.”

“Only rather?” She arched an eyebrow as they drew apart for a moment, her blue silk skirts swishing against the polished floor. “And here I thought I was doing quite well, managing to avoid both Lady Pembroke’s dissertation on sleeve fashions and Lord Treyfield’s machinations in a single evening.”

They came back together, and Dorian’s hand settled possessively on her waist. “You were magnificent. Particularly the way you extricated yourself from your conversation with Lady Pembroke without offending her sensibilities. I counted at least three different people trying to catch your eye while she expounded on the moral implications of shorter hemlines.”

“Four people, actually.” Alice’s smile held a hint of mischief as they spun together. “Though Lord Rutherford seemed more interested in watching Joanna reject Gregory’s apparently offensive opinions about Mozart.”

Indeed, across the ballroom, they could see Gregory and Joanna engaged in what appeared to be a heated debate near the punch bowl. Despite their obvious antagonism, neither seemed inclined to seek different company.

“They do provide excellent cover for our early departure,” Dorian observed, drawing Alice fractionally closer than the dance required. “No one will notice us slipping away when those two are providing such entertainment.”

“Planning our escape already?” Her fingers tightened on his shoulder as his thumb traced patterns on her palm. “The ball has barely begun.”

“And yet I find myself thoroughly distracted by thoughts entirely unsuitable for polite company.” His voice dropped as they spun again. “Like how that gown clings to you when you move, making me envy every delicate fold.”

A delicious flush colored her cheeks. “You’re being scandalous.”

“Merely appreciative.” His eyes held hers as they moved through the final steps. “Though I would very much like to show you just how appreciative in private.”

“As tempting as your suggestions are,” Alice said, fighting to keep her voice steady, “I did promise Joanna that I’d keep her company this evening.”

“Then I shall have to content myself with watching you from afar.” His voice held a dark promise that made her pulse flutter. “Though later, wife, we will continue this discussion in a far more… private setting.”

The heat in his gaze sent warmth through her entire body, making her grateful for the cool breeze drifting through the open windows.

She managed a somewhat breathless, “You are impossible,” as the music drew to a close.

“Impossibly patient, perhaps.” He bowed over her hand, his lips brushing her knuckles in a way that was perfectly proper yet somehow scandalously intimate. “Until later, sweetheart.”

Still feeling rather warm from their exchange, Alice made her way to where Joanna stood near a marble column, her face flushed with what appeared to be irritation.

“That insufferable Lord Drakeley!” Joanna burst out the moment Alice joined her. “Can you believe he had the audacity to suggest that women lack the emotional depth to truly appreciate Beethoven’s later works?”

“Did he, indeed?” Alice accepted a glass of punch from a passing footman, hoping it might cool her still-heated cheeks.

“He actually said, and I quote, ‘The complexity of such compositions requires a certain intellectual rigor that the fairer sex rarely cultivates.’ As if I haven’t been studying music since I was in leading strings!” Joanna fluttered her fan with sharp agitation. “And then he had the nerve to challenge my interpretation of Moonlight Sonata .”

“How shocking.” Alice hid her smile behind her glass. “Though you seem to have spent a rather long time discussing music with someone you find so objectionable.”

“Only because Lord Drakeley wouldn’t stop following me around the room, contradicting every observation I made.” Joanna’s color deepened. “He actually suggested that my preference for Mozart over Haydn showed a lack of musical sophistication!”

“And of course,” she continued, her fan fluttering at an alarming pace now, “when I pointed out that Lord Drakeley’s dismissal of Mozart’s innovative harmonics merely revealed his own musical limitations, he had the gall to laugh!”

“Laugh?” Alice glanced across the ballroom to where Gregory stood with Dorian. Both men appeared deep in conversation, though she noticed that Lord Drakeley’s gaze kept straying in their direction.

“Not a mocking laugh, precisely.” Joanna’s voice took on a puzzled note. “More… appreciative? As if he enjoyed my criticism of his musical taste. Most peculiar.”

“Indeed.” Alice accepted another glass of punch. “Almost as peculiar as how you’ve spent the better part of an hour debating with a man you claim to find utterly insufferable.”

“I had no choice! He kept making the most outrageous assertions. Did you know that he believes the pianoforte inferior to the harpsichord for Bach’s compositions?” Joanna’s eyes flashed with renewed indignation. “When I offered to demonstrate the superior tonal qualities of the Duchess of Rutland’s pianoforte, he suggested that we meet at his music room tomorrow, as his Broadwood grand would better serve the purpose!”

“How forward of him.” Alice bit back a smile. “And did you accept this shocking invitation?”

“Of course not!” Joanna’s cheeks flushed prettily. “Well… that is… I may have indicated that if Lady Pembroke accompanies me…”

“Naturally. One must observe propriety.” Alice watched Gregory lean in to say something to Dorian. His expression was carefully neutral, though his eyes kept seeking Joanna. “Though I must say, for someone whose musical opinions you find so objectionable, Lord Drakeley seems remarkably well-versed in the subject.”

“He’s remarkably well-versed in being infuriating,” Joanna muttered. “Did you see how he positioned himself by the punch bowl after our first argument? As if he knew I would need refreshment after thoroughly demolishing his ridiculous theories about counterpoint.”

“Speaking of counterpoint—” she broke off as Lord Treyfield approached, his smile as practiced as a musician’s scales.

“Your Grace.” He bowed with elaborate courtesy. “Lady Joanna. I trust you’re enjoying the evening’s entertainments?”

“Indeed, my lord.” Alice matched his tone with perfect social grace, though her skin crawled at his proximity. “The Duchess of Rutland has outdone herself.”

“She has, indeed.” His eyes held a calculating gleam despite his genial expression. “Though I heard that your entertainments have been quite engaging lately. His Grace told me that you have a particular interest in charitable endeavors in the less fashionable parts of London.”

A fishing expedition .

Alice maintained her pleasant smile. “One does what one can for those less fortunate. Though I find most of my time occupied with estate matters these days.”

“Ah yes, estate management.” He gave a paternal smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Such a blessing when a new duchess takes her responsibilities seriously. Though one hopes that such dedication doesn’t strain your health. These frequent trips about town can be quite taxing.”

The implied threat lay beneath his solicitous tone like a serpent under flowers. But Alice merely inclined her head. “Your concern does you credit, my lord. Though I assure you, my constitution is quite robust.”

“Delighted to hear it.” His gaze sharpened. “One hears such concerning rumors about certain neighborhoods. A lady of your standing can never be too careful.”

Before Alice could respond, she felt Dorian’s familiar presence at her side. “There you are, sweetheart.” His hand settled possessively on the small of her back. “I believe you promised me another dance.”

“Indeed, I did.” She turned to Lord Treyfield with calculated warmth. “If you’ll excuse us, my lord. One mustn’t neglect one’s husband, even in pursuit of charitable works.”

She caught Joanna’s knowing look as Dorian led her away.

The musicians had just struck a waltz, but instead of moving toward the dance floor, Dorian guided her toward one of the French doors leading to the terrace.

“I believe,” he whispered in her ear, “that we have fulfilled our social obligations for one evening.”

The warmth of his breath against her skin made her shiver.

“Have we?”

“Mmm.” His thumb traced circles on her palm as they retrieved her coat from a waiting footman. “You were perfect with Treyfield. Just the right balance of courtesy and vague answers.”

“I learned from the best.” She allowed him to hand her into their waiting carriage, very aware of his hands on her waist. “Though I must say, watching you manage him earlier was quite… instructive.”

The carriage door closed, shutting them into intimate privacy.

Dorian pulled her close the moment they were seated, his mouth finding that sensitive spot beneath her ear. “And what else did you find instructive this evening, sweetheart?”

“The way you watched me during that quadrille,” she managed, though gathering her thoughts was becoming increasingly difficult as his lips trailed down her throat. “Most… educational.”

“I’ve been thinking about getting you alone since I first saw you in that gown.” His voice had dropped to that dangerous whisper that never failed to make her pulse race. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

The carriage turned onto Berkeley Square, the rhythmic sway adding to the building tension between them. His hands slid up her sides as he took her mouth in a kiss that held nothing of social propriety and everything of barely restrained passion.

“Dorian…” She tangled her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer. “We’re almost home.”

“Not soon enough.” He drew back just enough to meet her eyes, his own dark with desire. “Though perhaps you’d like to continue our discussion of estate matters in my study?”

His fingers traced up her arm, pushing aside her coat to expose her shoulder to the moonlight filtering through the carriage windows.

“I’ve been thinking about kissing you here,” his lips brushed against her collarbone, “and here,” they moved to the curve of her shoulder.

Her head fell back as he continued his tender assault, each brush of his lips sending sparks through her blood. His hand slid up to cradle her head, his fingers tangling in her carefully arranged curls as he claimed her mouth in a kiss that caused a tingle down to her toes.

“The pins,” she managed when he drew back to trail kisses along her jaw. “You’ll ruin my hair.”

“Good.” His voice was rough with desire as he found another sensitive spot beneath her ear. “I want you thoroughly disheveled. Only for me.”

His hand on her waist pulled her closer as his mouth reclaimed hers, and she wound her fingers into his cravat, needing him nearer still.

Without hesitation, she lifted her skirts and straddled him.

Dorian’s eyes widened. “You have grown quite bold, sweetheart.”

Alice leaned forward and nipped his bottom lip. Looking up coyly from beneath lowered lashes, she said, “Perhaps I’ve learned from my husband.”

“Have you, indeed?” he purred as she trailed kisses along his jaw.

“Mmhmm.” Her lips found that sensitive spot below his ear that always made his breath hitch. “Though I believe there’s still much you could teach me.”

His hands tightened on her waist. “You’re playing a dangerous game, wife.”

“Am I?” She pulled back just enough to meet his darkened gaze. “And here I thought I was simply showing proper appreciation for my husband.”

“There’s nothing proper about what you’re doing to my self-control,” he growled, though he made no move to stop her wandering hands.

“Good.” She pressed a kiss to the hollow at the base of his throat. “I find I rather enjoy making the composed Duke of Ashthorne lose his composure.”

“Minx.” His voice held equal measures of desire and admiration. “When did you become so—” He broke off when she licked a particularly sensitive spot.

“Yes?” She smiled against his skin. “So what?”

Before he could answer, the carriage hit a bump, and Alice jolted sideways. She let out a small squeal of alarm, but Dorian’s hands circled her waist and pulled her back on top of him.

“Don’t worry, my duchess, I won’t let you go,” he said, his voice husky. He nipped her shoulder and then covered her mouth with his, claiming her, ravishing her.

Alice scooted closer and ground her hips against his arousal. Dorian let out a low groan. His hands dipped between them and grazed her thigh before moving up, finding her wet folds.

Alice hurriedly unfastened his breeches and pulled his member out. Slowly, she rose to her knees and sank down onto him. She had never felt so full.

Her hips moved of their own volition as he thrust upward. She let out a small cry of pleasure that he quickly muffled with his mouth as their movements grew more frenzied. When she shuddered and bliss sizzled through her body, he let out a growl, thrust harder, and spilled his seed deep inside her.

They pulled apart slowly, both breathless as the carriage approached their townhouse. Dorian reached up to gently remove a pin from her hair where it got tangled in his cravat.

“Look what you’ve done to my perfectly respectable Duchess,” he chided, but his voice was tender as he tucked a wayward curl behind her ear.

“I believe you’re equally culpable in my corruption.” Alice’s fingers trembled slightly as she attempted to straighten his cravat. “Though I fear your valet will despair of salvaging this.”

His hand caught hers, and he pressed a kiss to her palm that held none of the earlier urgency—just a soft reverence that made her heart flutter in an entirely new way.

“Leave it. Let him despair.”

“What will the servants think?”

But Alice couldn’t quite suppress her smile as she retrieved her wrap from where it had fallen.

“That their Duke is thoroughly enchanted by his Duchess.” His thumb stroked her cheek with surprising gentleness. “They wouldn’t be wrong.”

“Dorian…” Alice hardly recognized her own voice.

The carriage came to a stop before they could explore this new tenderness building between them. But as he helped her down, his hand lingered on hers longer than strictly necessary.

Neither spoke further, but something had happened. Something that felt remarkably like falling in love.