Page 31 of Wedded to the Duke of Sin (Dukes of Passion #2)
CHAPTER 31
“ D orian, what is it?” Alice’s voice cut through the quiet of the breakfast room as she reached across the table, her hand resting lightly on her husband’s.
The soft clink of china was the only other sound as the footman retreated, leaving them alone.
Dorian looked up from his untouched tea, the storm in his blue eyes stark against the calm of the morning. For a moment, she thought he would brush her off. However, he exhaled deeply and turned his hand to clasp hers.
“It’s Treyfield,” he said, his voice low. “He confronted me in the library last night.”
Alice’s stomach tightened at the mention of the man whose name seemed to taint everything it touched. “What did he say?”
Dorian tightened his grip on her hand fractionally, as though he was anchoring himself. “He’s been digging—prying into Lawrence’s past. He hinted at knowing about Sarah.” His jaw clenched. “If he discovers her whereabouts, Alice?—”
“He won’t,” she said firmly, cutting him off. “Sarah is safe, and we’ve taken every precaution to ensure that her identity remains hidden. He won’t find her or the child.”
Dorian’s lips curled into a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Your faith in our measures is admirable, but Treyfield is persistent. He believes that the existence of Lawrence’s illegitimate son is more than just a rumor, and he won’t stop until he gets rid of the child.”
Alice leaned closer, her green eyes bright with determination. “Then we won’t stop either. Sarah and her child are under our protection, and I will not let Treyfield’s machinations undo everything we’ve worked for.”
“You’ve grown fierce,” Dorian murmured, his smile softening as he regarded her. “I shouldn’t be surprised, but you still manage to catch me off guard.”
“I had no choice but to be fierce,” Alice said, her voice steady. “When you told me about Sarah, I understood the risk we were taking. And I’ll see this through, Dorian—for Lawrence’s sake, and Sarah’s.”
Dorian nodded, his thumb brushing her knuckles. “Treyfield is more dangerous than we had anticipated. He all but admitted last night that he’s had informants searching the underbelly of London for leads. If they catch so much as a whisper?—”
“They won’t,” Alice asserted. “Sarah is safe at the Academy, miles away from anyone who might talk. And you’ve ensured that her needs are taken care of. She has no reason to leave.”
“I hope you’re right,” Dorian said quietly, though his expression remained troubled. “Treyfield is becoming more brazen. His obsession with cementing his position grows with every passing day. If he senses that we’re hiding Sarah?—”
“Then we’ll deal with him,” Alice said, her voice like steel. “Together.”
Dorian studied her for a long moment, the tension in his features easing slightly. “You truly are remarkable, Alice.”
Her cheeks flushed at his compliment, but she pressed on. “What do we do next?”
“I have business to attend to this afternoon,” he said, his tone resolute. “There are inquiries I need to make and measures I need to reinforce. If Treyfield is gathering his forces, I need to ensure that mine are stronger.”
Alice’s stomach twisted at the thought of him leaving, but she kept her expression calm. “And here?”
“You’ll stay vigilant,” Dorian said, holding her gaze. “If Treyfield makes an appearance, I trust you to handle him. But Alice…” He hesitated, his voice softening. “Don’t take any unnecessary risks. Your safety is as important to me as Sarah’s.”
Her hand tightened around his. “I’m not a damsel in need of saving, Dorian. If Treyfield thinks he can manipulate or intimidate me, he’ll quickly learn otherwise.”
A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes. “He has no idea what he’s up against.”
Alice’s lips curled into a determined smile. “None at all.”
The moment lingered between them, their hands still entwined, before Dorian finally released her and stood up. “I’ll return as quickly as I can.”
“Be careful,” Alice said, rising as well. “And trust that we’ll manage here.”
He paused at the door, his expression shadowed but resolute. “We’ll win this, Alice. Treyfield may think himself untouchable, but he underestimates the strength of those he’s crossed.”
“And that will be his undoing,” Alice said.
At that, he nodded and stepped out of the room.
As the door closed behind him, she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. There was no room for fear, no room for doubt.
Alice found Sarah in the schoolroom. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows as she arranged pressed flowers between sheets of thick paper.
“Your Grace.” Sarah started to rise, but Alice waved her hand dismissively.
“Please, stay comfortable. And it’s just Alice when we’re alone.” She settled into a nearby chair, watching Sarah’s fingers carefully handle the delicate petals. “Lawrence’s influence, the botanical interests?”
A soft smile touched Sarah’s lips. “He used to bring me flowers whenever he visited. Not the usual hothouse blooms most gentlemen favored, but wild roses and meadowsweet—anything he thought might interest me. He said that every flower had a story to tell.”
“How did you meet him?” Alice asked gently, noticing the warmth in Sarah’s eyes at the memory.
Sarah’s hands stilled on the papers. “He found me at Madame Rosa’s. But that wasn’t… that wasn’t where I began.” She took a steadying breath. “My father was a tea merchant. We lived quite comfortably in a beautiful house in Greenwich. I had piano lessons and dancing masters—everything a merchant’s daughter could want.”
“What happened?”
“My eldest brother, James.” Bitterness crept into her voice. “He inherited the business when our father died, but he inherited Father’s weakness for cards as well. Within a year, he’d gambled away everything—the business, the house, even my dowry.” Her fingers trembled slightly. “When he ran out of things to lose, he… he gambled me away.”
Alice’s heart sank. “He what? ”
“Lord Thomason held his markers. He was known for forgiving gambling debts in exchange for favors.” Sarah let out a slow breath. “James told me that I had to go with Lord Thomason, that it was my duty to the family. I was seventeen.”
“Oh, Sarah.” Alice reached for her hand.
“Lord Thomason sold me to Madame Rosa after he grew bored of me. Said I might as well earn my keep.” Sarah lifted her chin slightly. “I learned to survive. To wrap myself in silk and smile until I almost forgot the girl I used to be. Until Lawrence.”
“What made him different?”
“He looked at me— really looked at me—and saw Sarah, not just another fallen woman. He would talk to me for hours about books and art and his plans for the estate.” Her smile turned wistful. “He wanted to turn part of the conservatory into a winter garden, with specimens from all over the world. Said he’d name the first new rose variety after me.”
Alice squeezed her hand. “He loved you very much.”
“He made me feel real again.” Sarah rested her free hand on her growing belly. “This child was conceived with love, whatever Society might say. Lawrence wanted to marry me, to give our baby his name. He had it all planned out—a small estate in Cornwall, far from London’s gossip.” Her voice caught. “But then he fell ill so suddenly.”
“We’ll protect your child,” Alice said firmly. “Dorian and I won’t let Lord Treyfield harm either of you.”
Sarah met her eyes. “Why do you help me? Most women in your position?—”
“Most women haven’t seen how love can transform someone.” Alice thought of Thomas and Evelyn, of her own complicated path to happiness. “Besides, every flower deserves a chance to bloom, doesn’t it? Even those that sprout in difficult soil.”
Sarah’s answering smile was like sunlight breaking through clouds. “Lawrence would have liked you very much, I think.”
“Tell me more about him,” Alice said, settling more comfortably in her chair. “Tell me about the man who saw past Society’s prejudices to the real person beneath.”
As Sarah began to speak, her voice growing animated as she shared memories of Lawrence’s kindness and dreams, Alice silently renewed her vow. Treyfield would not destroy this last piece of Lawrence’s legacy. Not as long as she drew breath.
Later, as her carriage pulled away from the school gates, she maintained her practiced smile and waved to Mrs. Hammond, the headmistress, who had so graciously agreed to feign a long-standing friendship. It wouldn’t do for anyone to question why the Duchess of Ashthorne had spent the afternoon at a modest girls’ school.
Movement caught her eye—a flash of dark clothing between the trees lining the lane. Her heart stuttered as she glimpsed a man’s figure half-hidden in the shadows. Her fingers clutched her reticule, her mind racing through all the precautions they’d taken to keep Sarah’s location secret.
The carriage rounded a bend, and she forced herself to breathe slowly. Surely, she was being ridiculous. London’s dangers had made her jumpy, seeing threats in every shadow.
As if to prove her paranoia, the figure emerged onto the path—merely a groundskeeper pruning the hedges, his dark coat the same one that had sparked her fear. He doffed his cap respectfully as the carriage passed.
Alice sank back against the squabs, relief making her light-headed. “You’re becoming as suspicious as Dorian,” she chided herself softly.
Still, something nagged at the back of her mind—a sense of being watched that didn’t quite fade even as the school disappeared from view.
Nonsense. She was letting her imagination run wild, influenced by this morning’s conversation about Treyfield’s threats. The school was perfectly safe, the location carefully chosen for its remoteness.
But as her carriage turned onto the main road to London, she couldn’t quite shake the memory of that shadowy figure, or the way he’d appeared to be watching not the carriage, but her specifically.
The bell above Madame Laurent’s shop tinkled as Alice entered, her mind still reeling from her journey. The familiar scents of silk and lavender wrapping paper helped ease her tension as she was ushered behind an ornate screen for her fitting.
“Just a moment, Your Grace,” Madame Laurent called. “I have the most exquisite pale blue silk for your consideration.”
As her maid helped her out of her traveling dress, voices drifted from the other side of the screen.
“Did you see the Duke of Ashthorne at Lady Rutherford’s ball?” The first voice dripped with barely concealed envy. “The way he watches the Duchess—quite remarkable, considering the circumstances of their marriage.”
“Indeed.” The second voice held a knowing tone that made Alice’s spine stiffen. “Though one does wonder why there’s been no announcement yet. Usually, these hasty marriages produce heirs within months. Perhaps the Duke’s legendary reputation was somewhat… exaggerated?”
“Or perhaps she’s not as capable as she ought to be. After all, what else would drive a man like His Grace to marry so suddenly if not?—”
“I believe,” Alice stepped out from behind the screen in her petticoats, her voice carrying the quiet authority she’d learned as a duchess, “that speculation about such private matters says more about the speculators than their subjects.”
The two women—whom she recognized as Lady Delforth and Mrs. Fowley—had the grace to flush crimson.
“Your Grace!” Lady Delforth stammered. “We didn’t realize?—”
“Clearly.” Alice’s smile was arctic. “Though I must say, your concern for my domestic felicity is touching. His Grace would be quite amused to hear about such a detailed discussion of our private affairs. Shall I mention it when next we dine with the Prince Regent?”
Mrs. Fowley’s face paled. “Oh no, Your Grace, please?—”
“Or perhaps,” Alice continued smoothly, “we might all benefit from remembering that true nobility lies not in what happens in other people’s bedchambers, but in how we conduct ourselves in public.” She turned to Madame Laurent. “Now then, about that blue silk?”
The modiste’s eyes danced with suppressed mirth as she hurried forward with the fabric. “An excellent choice for your brother’s wedding, Your Grace. The color will complement the bride’s cream silk gown beautifully.”
Lady Delforth and Mrs. Fowley made hasty excuses and practically bolted out of the shop, leaving Alice feeling rather satisfied with herself.
“If I may say so, Your Grace,” Madame Laurent murmured as she pinned the silk, “that was masterfully handled. Those two have terrorized my shop with their gossip for years.”
“Sometimes,” Alice said, watching her reflection in the mirror as the gorgeous fabric took shape around her, “the best way to handle a snake is to remind it that you’re not afraid of its bite.”
By the time she left the shop, the afternoon sun had turned golden, casting long shadows over the streets. The exchange had lifted her spirits considerably, washing away the last of her unease from the school visit. She was no longer just Thomas’s sister or even just Dorian’s Duchess—she was her own woman, capable of handling whatever challenges arose.
Let Lord Treyfield plot and scheme. Let the gossips whisper and speculate. She and Dorian would face it all together, protecting those who needed them while building something real and precious between them.
The carriage turned toward home, and Alice smiled, thinking of how Dorian’s eyes would darken when he saw her in the blue silk. Some things, after all, were nobody’s business but their own.