Page 33 of Wedded to the Duke of Sin (Dukes of Passion #2)

CHAPTER 33

“ D o you remember when we used to play hide and seek in the chapel at Colton?” Thomas adjusted his lace cuffs for the hundredth time in the small vestry of St. George’s, Hanover Square. “Mother would be furious when she found us behind the altar.”

“Until Father made her laugh by reminding her how they’d done the same thing when they were children.”

Alice smiled at the memory, watching her brother’s reflection in the age-spotted mirror. Morning light filtered through the high window, catching the gold embroidery on his wedding coat—a deep blue piece that had cost an obscene amount of money but was worth every guinea for how it transformed him from a rake to a respectable bridegroom.

“They should be here today.” Thomas’s voice roughened. “Mother would have been arranging every flower herself, and Father?—”

“Would have been proudly telling everyone how his son was marrying the daughter of a viscount.” Alice stepped forward to straighten his pristine wedding cravat—pure white silk arranged in the most formal Mathematical knot. “Though I think they would have been more pleased to see the man you’ve become.”

“Thanks to you.” He caught her hands. “I mean it, Alice. Without your meddling?—”

“Guidance,” she corrected primly.

“Without your guidance ,” he amended with a grin. “I’d still be losing money at the gaming halls instead of waiting to marry the most perfect woman in London.”

“In all of England, according to your rather extensive poetry attempts.”

“God, those were dreadful, weren’t they?” He laughed, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “Though Evelyn was kind enough to pretend that they weren’t awful.”

“That’s because she loves you.” Alice smoothed an invisible wrinkle from his lapel. “Now, are you ready to go make an honest woman out of her?”

“More than ready.” His expression softened in a way that made her heart ache. “Though I’m not sure I’ll ever be worthy of her.”

“That’s precisely what makes you worthy.” She kissed his cheek, careful not to leave a mark. “I’ll see you at the altar, Brother dear. Try not to faint when you see her in her wedding gown.”

The main sanctuary of St. George’s was a vision of spring splendor. White lilies and roses adorned every pillar, their perfume mixing with the lingering scent of beeswax from hundreds of candles. Sunlight streamed through the magnificent windows, making the gilt details gleam against pristine white walls. The pews were already filled with the cream of Society, ostrich plumes swaying as the ladies whispered behind their fans.

Alice found Dorian waiting in their assigned place, his commanding presence drawing eyes even in such august company. As she slipped into the pew beside him, his hand found hers and squeezed it gently.

“How is our nervous bridegroom?” he murmured.

“Surprisingly calm.” She leaned slightly into his warmth. “Though I suspect that will change when he sees Evelyn.”

The first notes of the wedding march began to play on the magnificent organ, and Alice felt tears prick her eyes as Thomas took his place at the altar. Her rakish brother, the despair of the ton , stood straight and proud in his wedding finery, waiting for the woman who had helped him find his better self.

The ceremony itself passed in a blur of familiar prayers and solemn vows. Alice barely registered the words, too caught up in watching her brother’s face as Evelyn walked down the aisle. The tender awe in Thomas’s expression as he took his bride’s hand made Alice’s throat tighten with emotion.

At the wedding breakfast, Lady Westhaven had outdone herself. The Westhaven ballroom gleamed with crystal and silver, while arrangements of hothouse flowers covered every available surface. Footmen moved smoothly between guests with trays of delicacies, their livery spotless and identical down to the last golden button.

“Your influence on your brother has been remarkable, my dear.” Lady Westhaven had accosted Alice near a towering display of sugared fruits. “Who would have thought that the notorious Lord Colton could become such a model husband?”

“Thomas’s transformation is entirely his own doing,” Alice demurred, though she couldn’t help but smile as she watched her brother lean down to whisper something that made Evelyn blush prettily.

“Perhaps.” Lady Westhaven fluttered her fan with deliberate slowness. “Though now that your brother is so happily settled, you might turn your attention to your own domestic felicity.” Her gaze dropped meaningfully to Alice’s waist. “The ton does so love a pregnancy announcement.”

Heat crept up Alice’s neck. “I’m sure?—”

“The Duke of Ashthorne’s heir will be quite the sensation, of course,” Lady Westhaven continued, immune to Alice’s discomfort. “Though one does wonder at the delay, given the… hasty nature of your marriage.”

Before Alice could respond, Dorian appeared at her elbow as though summoned.

“My dear,” he said smoothly, “I believe your brother is looking for you. Something about a family toast?”

Alice had never been more grateful for his intervention.

As he guided her away from Lady Westhaven’s knowing smirk, she felt the gentle pressure of his hand at the small of her back and wondered if he’d overheard their exchange.

“Lady Westhaven’s subtlety remains unmatched,” he said as they navigated the crowd, though something in his tone made her glance up.

A shadow had crossed his features, gone so quickly that she thought she might have imagined it.

“She means well, I suppose.” Alice kept her voice light. “Though I wonder if she subjected Evelyn to the same discussion before the wedding.”

“It’s different with a duke’s wife.” Dorian’s hand slid around her waist. “The expectations are… higher.”

There was an odd note in his voice that Alice couldn’t quite interpret. Before she could question him, Thomas called them over for the toast. But as they raised their glasses to the happy couple, she noticed that Dorian’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

The rest of the breakfast passed in a whirl of congratulations and carefully orchestrated moments that bore Lady Westhaven’s unmistakable touch. Everything was perfect, from the pristine white roses adorning every surface to the precise timing of each course. Yet, Alice found her attention repeatedly drawn to her husband’s unusually quiet demeanor.

When Evelyn gave out flowers from her bouquet—a concession to new fashions that had Lady Westhaven pursing her lips—Alice caught Dorian watching her with an intensity that made her shiver. But there was something else in his gaze, something that reminded her of how he’d looked during the early days of their marriage, as though he expected everything to shatter at any moment.

“Your brother seems truly happy,” he said later, as they watched Thomas help Evelyn into their wedding carriage.

“Yes.” Alice leaned against his arm. “Sometimes the best matches are born from unexpected beginnings.”

His only response was a noncommittal hum, but his arm wound around her waist with almost fierce possession, as though he were afraid she would slip away.

As Dorian joined the other gentlemen for brandy and cigars, Alice found herself drawn into a circle of elegant young matrons near the French windows. Lady Rutherford and the new Countess of Wattford held court, their fans moving in sync.

“Such a lovely wedding,” Lady Rutherford observed. “Though I must say, Your Grace, you’ve quite transformed since your own nuptials. Not at all the shy creature you were at the start of the Season.”

“Indeed.” The Countess’s smile turned knowing. “One might almost forget the unusual circumstances of your marriage. You’ve taken to the role of duchess as though born to it.”

Alice sipped her champagne to hide her expression. “His Grace is everything a husband should be.”

“Everything?” Lady Jersey joined them, her eyebrows raised suggestively. “Do tell, my dear. Some of us have wondered if his reputation for… expertise… was deserved.”

Heat crept up Alice’s neck, but she kept her voice steady. “I can’t comment on that.”

“Such discretion!” Lady Rutherford laughed. “Though your blush speaks volumes. Have you heard the latest gossip about Lady Morrison? They say that she’s been entertaining Lord Hamilton while her husband is in Bath.”

As the conversation devolved into increasingly scandalous speculation, Alice found herself watching Evelyn dance attendance on her mother’s friends, her happiness radiating from every gesture. How strange to think that just months ago, she had been the subject of such whispers herself.

“You’re very quiet, Your Grace,” the Countess observed. “Surely you must have an opinion on Lady Morrison’s… situation?”

“I find,” Alice said carefully, “that having been the subject of speculation myself so recently, I have little appetite for it now.”

A faint blush colored Lady Rutherford’s cheeks. “We meant no offense?—”

“Of course not.” Alice smiled to soften her words. “But perhaps we might discuss something worthier of celebration? The bride’s gown, for instance, is quite extraordinary.”

The ladies pounced gratefully on this safer topic, debating the merits of Brussels lace versus Honiton. Alice let their chatter wash over her, noting how the hierarchy of the ton played out even here. The more established matrons held the prime positions near the refreshments table, while the newer brides hovered at the edges, seeking acceptance.

“I heard that the Duke’s estate in Cornwall is particularly fine,” Lady Jersey remarked, steering the conversation back to a more interesting topic. “Though you haven’t visited yet, have you? One would think that His Grace would be eager to show you the future nursery.”

Before Alice could respond, a footman appeared with a champagne tray, and she snatched up a glass, grateful for the respite. The constant hints about children were becoming tedious, though she supposed it was natural, given her position. A duke’s heir was a matter of public interest, whether she liked it or not.

As the day began to wane, guests gradually began to depart in small groups, leaving behind the intimate circle of close family and friends.

“Well, that was exhausting,” Joanna said softly after appearing at Alice’s elbow. “Though I must say, Lady Westhaven outdid herself with the arrangements.”

“Indeed,” Alice agreed, watching the remaining guests mingle near the French windows. “Though I barely tasted a bite of that magnificent cake.”

“Speaking of things worth savoring…” Joanna’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “I couldn’t help but notice how Lord Drakeley keeps watching me. Do you suppose he’s still angry about that comment regarding his hunting jacket?”

Alice laughed, grateful for her friend’s ability to lighten the mood at any moment. “My dear, if that man isn’t half in love with you already, I’ll eat my best bonnet.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Joanna’s cheeks pinked slightly. “Now, tell me truly—how do you manage to silence all these questions about producing an heir? Lady Jersey cornered me earlier to ask if you’d mentioned feeling unwell in the mornings.”

“With practice,” Alice sighed, “and a very good poker face.”

As their carriage rolled through London’s darkening streets, Alice studied her husband’s profile. Dorian stared out the window, his usual sharp wit replaced by an uncharacteristic silence.

“I half expected Lady Westhaven to hand us a list of approved names for our future children,” she said lightly, attempting to draw him out of his musing. “Complete with their proper order of appearance and preferred seasons of birth.”

He smiled a beat too late. “I’m sure she has one prepared.”

“Dorian.” She placed her hand over his, where it rested on the seat between them. “What’s troubling you?”

“Nothing of consequence.” He turned his hand to lace his fingers with hers, though his gaze remained distant. “I’m merely tired. It was a long day.”

“Was it the brandy? I noticed that Lord Pembroke brought his finest.”

“The brandy was excellent.” But his usual playful tone fell flat. “Though not as excellent as you looked in your blue silk dress.”

Alice wasn’t fooled by the attempted compliment. Something in his manner reminded her of their early days together—that careful distance he’d tried to maintain, as though he was expecting everything to crumble at any moment.

“Are you sure you’re just tired?”

“Quite sure.” He finally turned to look at her, and though his smile was gentle, something lurked behind his eyes that made her heart ache. “Don’t let my mood spoil your brother’s day.”

She wanted to press further, to understand what had caused this change in him, but the careful way he held himself warned her off. Whatever demons plagued him tonight, he wasn’t ready to share them.

“Very well.” She squeezed his hand. “But when you’re ready to tell me what’s really on your mind?—”

“I know.” He lifted their joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles that felt almost like an apology. “You’ll be the first to hear it.”

The rest of the journey passed in comfortable silence, but Alice couldn’t shake the feeling that something fundamental had changed during the wedding breakfast. She only hoped that Dorian would trust her enough to tell her what it was before it drove a wedge between them.