Page 38 of Wedded to the Duke of Sin (Dukes of Passion #2)

CHAPTER 38

T he morning room at White’s was unusually quiet, with other club members giving Dorian a wide berth. His dark expression and untouched coffee had already sent two would-be companions scurrying for safer harbors. Even his favorite chair by the window offered no comfort, the spring sunshine seeming to mock his black mood.

The door burst open, admitting Gregory and—Dorian’s jaw clenched—Thomas, newly returned from his honeymoon in the Lake District and practically vibrating with barely contained fury.

“What the devil have you done to my sister?” Thomas demanded, ignoring the startled looks from the few other members.

Dorian didn’t bother looking up from his newspaper. “Good morning to you too, Colton. I trust your honeymoon was pleasant?”

“Don’t deflect.” Thomas planted himself before Dorian’s chair. “Alice is staying with the Sutcliffes. Why?”

“I wasn’t aware I needed to explain my private affairs to my wife’s brother.” Dorian turned a page with deliberate casualness. “Don’t you have your own marriage to attend to?”

Thomas’s face flushed. “She’s my sister?—”

“And my wife,” Dorian cut in, his voice dropping to that dangerous growl that reminded everyone present that he was not a man to be trifled with. “What happens between us is none of your concern.”

“The hell it isn’t!” Thomas took a step forward, only to be restrained by Gregory’s hand on his arm. “I’ve known Alice her entire life. She doesn’t run from anything—unless someone gives her a damn good reason.”

“Mind your tone, boy.” Dorian finally lowered his paper, fixing Thomas with a cold stare. “Marriage isn’t all sunshine and roses, as you’ll no doubt discover. Sometimes wives need… space.”

“Space?” Thomas barked out a laugh. “Is that what we’re calling it? Because the Alice I know would rather fight than flee. Unless—” His eyes narrowed on him. “Unless you’ve done something unforgivable.”

“Careful.” Dorian’s voice could have frozen champagne. “You forget yourself.”

“And you forget who you’re married to.” Thomas shrugged off Gregory’s restraining hand. “Alice practically raised me after Mother died. She’s faced down creditors and scandal and everything Society could throw at us. The only thing that could drive her away is betrayal.”

Something flickered in Dorian’s eyes—pain or guilt or both—before his ducal mask slipped back into place. “You overstep, Colton.”

“Do I?” Thomas leaned forward, all trace of the reformed rake gone. “Because if you’ve hurt her—Duke or not?—”

“What?” Dorian’s smile held no warmth. “You’ll challenge me? Don’t be absurd.”

“Thomas.” Gregory’s quiet voice cut through the tension. “Perhaps we might discuss this in a more private place?”

But Thomas wasn’t finished. “You know what’s truly absurd? Alice defended you. Even when the ton whispered about your reputation and your mysterious business in certain parts of London, she stood like a wall against their gossip. And this is how you repay her loyalty?”

Dorian’s hands clenched on the arms of his chair, but his voice remained steady. “You know nothing about my marriage.”

“I know my sister.” Thomas straightened, some of his anger cooling to contempt. “She’s the most stubborn, strong-willed creature God has ever created. Even as a child, she’d face down anyone who threatened those she loved. The fact that she’s retreated now…” He shook his head. “Whatever you’ve done, it must have cut deep, indeed.”

Something in Thomas’s words seemed to strike home.

Dorian’s rigid posture softened slightly. “Your sister is… remarkable. But there are matters you don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand.” The anger had drained from Thomas’s voice, leaving only concern. “Because the Alice I saw at the Sutcliffes’ yesterday was a shadow of her former self.”

A muscle ticked in Dorian’s jaw. “Some things between a husband and wife must remain private. Even from well-meaning brothers.”

“Very well.” Thomas adjusted his cuffs with careful precision. “But remember this—Alice won’t come back, no matter how miserable she is. She’s got too much pride for that. And too much history of men failing her.” His eyes met Dorian’s. “Don’t be another one.”

With those parting words, he strode out of the room, leaving a weighted silence in his wake.

Gregory settled into a nearby chair, studying his friend’s face. “Well,” he said finally, “that was interesting.”

“Shut up.”

“He’s not wrong, you know.” Gregory signaled for fresh coffee. “About any of it.”

Dorian’s only response was a glare that would have made lesser men cower.

Gregory waited until the door closed behind Thomas before speaking. “She’s lost weight.”

“What?” Dorian looked up sharply.

“Alice. She’s grown thin. Pale.” Gregory’s usual good humor had vanished entirely. “She barely touches her food, from what Joanna tells me. Just sits in their garden, staring at nothing.”

Dorian’s hands tightened on the arms of his chair. “She’s always been slender.”

“Not like this.” Steel crept into Gregory’s voice. “Do you know what she said when I called yesterday? That she was a fool for believing in fairytales. That she should have known better than to expect more than duty from the Duke of Ashthorne.”

“I never asked her to?—”

“To what? To love you?” Gregory stood up abruptly. “God, you’re more of a fool than I thought. You had something real —something most men would kill for—and you’ve destroyed it because you’re too stubborn to trust her with the truth.”

“You don’t understand?—”

“No, you don’t understand.” Gregory’s voice cracked like a whip. “I’ve watched you push away every chance at happiness, and I’ve held my tongue. But this? This deliberate cruelty to a woman whose only crime was caring for you? It’s beneath you, Dorian.”

Dorian rose, stung by his friend’s unprecedented anger. “I’m protecting her?—”

“You’re protecting yourself!” Gregory’s face flushed with genuine fury. “And in doing so, you’ve likely ruined something precious beyond repair. Well done, Your Grace. Your father would be proud.”

Those words struck Dorian like a physical blow. He took a step back. “Gregory?—”

“No.” Gregory moved to the door, his voice cold in a way Dorian had never heard before. “For once in your life, stop talking and actually listen . That remarkable woman believed in you—trusted you—when the rest of Society saw only the rake. And you’ve repaid her trust by treating her like a porcelain doll too delicate for the truth.” He put his hand on the doorknob, but then he turned back. “I never thought I’d say this, but perhaps you don’t deserve her after all.”

The door closed behind him with quiet finality, leaving Dorian alone with the echo of his unprecedented anger.

He sank back into his chair, Gregory’s words tangling with Thomas’s in his mind.

“A shadow of her former self… too much pride to come back… something precious beyond repair…”

The image of Alice sitting pale and silent in the Sutcliffes’ garden haunted him. His strong, vibrant wife was reduced to a ghost because he’d thought he knew best. Because he’d been so focused on protecting her body that he’d wounded her heart instead.

“Your father would be proud…”

The words twisted in his gut like a knife. Was that what he’d become? So determined to be nothing like his father that he’d made the same mistakes in reverse?

Dorian pressed his fingers to his temples, remembering the way Alice had looked at him that night—hurt and confusion warring with pride in those green eyes. Eyes that had seen through every defense he’d built, until he’d had no choice but to acknowledge how deeply he loved her.

And now he was losing her, all because he’d convinced himself that pushing her away was the only way to keep her safe. But for the first time since Thomas’s wedding, a small voice whispered that perhaps he’d been wrong about what Alice needed protection from.

Perhaps the greatest danger had been his own fears all along.