UNCOMMON DUKE, AN (3 page)

Chapter Three

A
s the melodic sounds of the orchestra filled the crowded ballroom of Devonshire House, Olivia stepped through the movements of the quadrille without hearing a single note. Since her conversation with Gabriel, she wondered if she had made the right decision in approaching him about having another child. Oh, she still desperately wanted another child, but after his reaction to her request, she wasn’t certain she could bear to be in his company long enough to conceive one.

He had been horrid—and his comments continued to pierce her heart.

I expect it to be an exasperating task, but it must be done.

The sooner we attend to this, the better.

If she had any hope of having another child, she needed to lock away her contempt for him. Maybe then the thought of Gabriel touching her wouldn’t make her want to injure his manhood—permanently. She would never conceive a child if she did that.

‘I hope it is not my company that has caused that expression to darken your lovely face,’ commented Comte Antoine Janvier.

Pulling her attention back to her dance partner, Olivia smiled apologetically. ‘Of course not, I fear I am not very good company this evening.’

With a few final steps the quadrille ended.

‘Perhaps a glass of champagne shall lift your spirits,’ he said, escorting her off the crowded dance floor towards one of the many drawing rooms.

As they crossed the threshold, he took two glasses from a passing footman and handed one to Olivia. She took a long drink and he arched a dark brow.

‘Shall I fetch another, or would you care for mine?’ he asked, tilting his glass towards her.

The warmth of a blush rose up Olivia’s neck and she turned away. Her gaze settled on the portrait of the previous Duchess of Devonshire. ‘Forgive me,’ she said, returning her attention to her friend. ‘You are being very kind, considering I have not been an ideal companion.’

He gave a careless wave of his hand. ‘It would be tiresome if you were always
plein de vie
.’

Olivia grinned. ‘I wasn’t aware you thought I was full of life.’

‘There is a sense you find enjoyment in your surroundings, but I suppose you can be as selective as you wish with the entertainments you attend since you are the Duchess of Winterbourne.’

‘Yes, there are advantages to the title.’ Being married to her husband was not one of them.

‘I notice you and His Grace rarely accept the same invitations.’

Their friendship was still new. If he wanted to know how wide the rift was between her and Gabriel, Olivia was certain any of the gossips in attendance would be happy to recount the tale of what had driven them apart. It was something she never discussed with anyone, except Victoria. ‘His Parliamentary affairs keep him busy into the evening. Oh, look, more champagne.’ Olivia didn’t wait for Janvier to procure her another glass. She took one off the tray of a passing footman and replaced it with her empty one.

A low chuckle escaped Janvier’s lips before he took a sip from his glass. ‘Not something you wish to discuss. I understand. Let us change the subject. Tell me, have you heard Mrs Siddons may return to the stage soon?’

‘I have.’

‘Do you suppose you will attend one of her performances?’

‘It would be a shame to leave my box at the theatre empty for such an anticipated return. I don’t suppose you are an admirer of hers?’ she asked with an amused smile.

‘What kind of man would I be if I were not?’

‘Would you care to join me on opening night?’

Janvier leaned forward, placing his lips close to her ear. ‘I would like nothing better.’

His warm breath fanned her neck and an uncomfortable shiver travelled down her spine. Pretending she had an itch, Olivia stepped back and scratched her left shoulder.

He studied her over the rim of his glass. ‘But the royal box would probably be occupied opening night. That would mean there would be such a crush. You would not mind?’

She gave a slight shrug. ‘A crush is no bother, if the entertainment is worthy.’

Janvier’s dark eyes twinkled mischievously. ‘Then I would be honoured to join you.’ He scanned the salmon-coloured room. ‘I am surprised your Regent is not here this evening.’

‘Georgiana told me the poor man is suffering from the gout again. If it is as severe as last time, it would not surprise me if he missed Mrs Siddons’s performances altogether.’

* * *

By the time she arrived home, Olivia was certain she had drunk enough champagne that she could endure Gabriel’s presence in order to have another child. He said he would come to her tonight. Now, she was ready for him.

After sending Colette away, she stretched out on her bed in an excessively large, white-linen nightrail. Her bare feet were cold on top of the blankets, but she reasoned it would be over quickly, and there would be no chance of Gabriel’s scent remaining on her sheets.

What was taking him so long? He was home. She’d heard his muffled voice along with that of Hodges through the door that connected their rooms over an hour ago. His strong knock made Olivia jump. Bringing her hands to her chest to steady the pounding of her heart, she called for him to enter.

The door opened slowly and it was difficult to see his expression in the shadows of the room. ‘Why is it so dark in here?’

‘I thought you would prefer it this way,’ she replied, relieved her voice did not give away her nervousness.

Gabriel closed the door behind him and walked further into the room. He was still dressed impeccably for an evening out. Turning this way, then that, he spun in a circle. Finally, he spotted her. ‘Are you well?’

‘Of course.’

‘Are you not cold?’

‘No,’ she lied.

There was a hesitation, then he cleared his throat. ‘It’s late. Perhaps we should discuss this in the morning.’

He was leaving? After all this time agonising and waiting for him, he was leaving? How much was she expected to endure? She jumped off the bed and ran to the door, blocking his way. ‘I thought we had an agreement.’

‘We do...I mean we did.’

‘You’ve changed your mind?’

Gabriel held up his hands, appearing as if he couldn’t bear to touch her. ‘I simply thought we could do this tomorrow.’

‘Oh, no, we will do this now or not at all.’ Olivia closed her eyes and prayed he would agree to stay.

‘Very well,’ he said, sounding as if he was trying to calm a skittish colt.

Olivia nodded and walked back to the bed. When she laid back down, she noticed he hadn’t moved from where he stood by the door.

‘It will not work with you all the way over there,’ she bit out sarcastically.

‘I am fine over here,’ he said with a raspy voice. ‘I can hear you just fine.’

‘Well, I do not expect to do any talking so that really should not matter.’

Gabriel cleared his throat. ‘You are certain you would like me come closer?’

If he made her explain exactly how this would work, she was bound to strangle him with her sheets. ‘I believe that is how this is done—if memory serves me correctly.’

He approached the side of her bed. She waited for him to do something, but all he seemed capable of doing was staring at the landscape by Constable that hung behind her.

Now it was her turn to clear her throat, but this was to get his attention. Once she had it, she motioned to his tailcoat with her finger.

He nodded and plucked a string off his sleeve. ‘Yes, it’s new. Mr Weston continues to prove himself the finest tailor in London.’

Resisting the urge to smother him with one of her pillows, Olivia took a deep breath and looked at the idiot she married. ‘Fine, leave it on. Just open your trousers.’

An odd sound emerged from Gabriel. ‘My what?’

‘Trousers.’ Olivia began to slide the hem of her nightrail up her legs. ‘Fear not, I will not look.’

With her eyes squeezed firmly shut, Olivia missed her husband’s shocked expression that quickly turned to a heated gaze. Abruptly he grabbed her wrist, preventing her from raising the material any higher than the middle of her thighs.

Refusing to open her eyes, she let out a sigh. ‘Very well, you take the lead.’

‘Olivia, what exactly are you doing?’ he asked in a husky voice.

She threw her forearm over her eyes. ‘I thought you said you wanted to get this over with quickly?’

He let out a soft laugh and she peered out from behind her arm.

His face was cast in the shadow of the crackling fire behind him. ‘I thought we were discussing Andrew this afternoon. However, I now believe you were talking about something else entirely.’

‘Andrew? Why would you think I was talking about having a child with Andrew?’ She yanked the yards of material over her knees and sat up, tucking her legs under her. Reaching over for one of her numerous pillows, she hit him with it.

He grabbed it. ‘I thought you wanted me to speak with Andrew regarding his behaviour around Nicholas. What did you think we were discussing?’ He tossed the pillow next to her on the bed.

Relieved that the room was cast in such low light, Olivia was certain her face was crimson. ‘How could you possibly mistake me wanting to have another child with me wanting you to reprimand your brother?’ she asked with annoyance.

‘A child?’ he choked out. ‘Is that what you wanted to discuss? Why didn’t you simply say so?’

‘I did!’

She hit him with another pillow and he caught this one as well.

‘No, you did not,’ he said as if he were speaking to someone Nicholas’s age. He tossed this pillow next to the other one. ‘Not once did the word “child” leave your lips.’ He cleared his throat again. ‘You want another one?’

Olivia was too emotionally spent to say another word, so she simply nodded and closed her eyes.

‘You are certain?’

Again she nodded and this time she met his shadowed gaze.

He tossed his head back and closed his eyes. She waited. Any dealings they had with one another from now on hinged on this very moment. Her palms began to sweat.

‘Slide over,’ he commanded softly.

She shifted towards the centre of the bed and closed her eyes when he began undressing. Was he as smooth and muscular as he had been years ago? Opening one eye, she peeked. He stood there shirtless, tugging off his trousers. She closed her eye quickly before he caught her. Blast it! He looked as good as he had the day she’d married him.

The bed dipped next to her and she felt a tug on the ribbon at the neckline of her nightrail. ‘You have too many clothes on.’

She swatted his hand away. ‘We can do it like this. I’ll just raise my hem.’

He steadied her hand as she began to move the fabric up her legs. ‘Is that what you were planning to do? Lay here with your eyes closed and lift your voluminous skirt for me?’

‘I won’t complain. Just do what needs to be done.’

Gabriel’s body jerked back as if she slapped him and he combed his hand through his hair, making the ends stand up in all directions. ‘Bloody hell, Olivia, what kind of man do you think I am?’

‘Oh, I know very well what kind of man you are,’ she spat.

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means I know you are only interested in your own needs.’

He glared down at her. ‘Like hell I am. And how am I to attend to your needs, when you are trussed up like a Christmas goose? It’s a wonder you aren’t suffocating.’

‘I’ll have you know this fabric is the finest French linen,’ she said through her teeth.

‘Then you should have had three gowns made from it instead of one.’

She hit him with another pillow. This time he threw it on the floor.

‘Just take me!’ she shouted, surprising herself, as well as Gabriel.

They didn’t move. They simply stared at one another as their chests rose and fell in unison. The only sound was the occasional pop from the logs in the fireplace.

Abruptly he jumped out of bed and began tugging on his trousers. ‘I cannot do this,’ he repeated.

‘Wait! Where are you going?’ she asked, rising to her knees, stunned by his rejection.

He jerked his shirt over his head and began gathering the rest of his discarded clothing. When he had them all in his arms, he stalked over to the bed. ‘Regardless of what you think, Duchess, this is not going to work,’ he ground out.

‘All the world thinks you are a man of honour, but it’s a lie. You only ever think of yourself.’

Gabriel gathered up his boots and stormed to the door leading to his room. When his hand clutched the handle, he paused. ‘You are lucky you are not a man,’ he said through his teeth before he slammed the door behind him.

A pillow, book and hairbrush hit the door in rapid succession. Just when she thought she was finished crying over him, Gabriel pushed her to the emotional edge—again. The tears were falling and she couldn’t make them stop. She would not give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry, so she pressed her lips firmly together as her body lurched with her silent sobs.

He didn’t want her. He couldn’t even bring himself to bed her to get a spare. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she hold the attention of the one man who had once meant the world to her?

Olivia still wanted that child, now more than ever, but now she would never conceive one.

She hated him for that!

She hated him for what he had done to her five years ago!

And she hated him for reducing her to tears by taking away her only chance at experiencing unconditional love again.

Chapter Four

T
he next morning before the sun had even begun to rise Gabriel rode his horse around the Serpentine as if the demons of hell were chasing him. He continued to circle the lake in Hyde Park, hoping the pounding of Homer’s hooves would knock his brain back together.

His wife had wanted him in her bed after five years, four months and eleven days. That alone should have been cause for celebration. The fact that she wanted another child with him should have made him the happiest of men. But at the moment, he wanted to drown her in the lake he rode around.

If she had been a man, she would have paid for the insults she threw at him as he left her room. Did she really think that little of him? Had she ever understood what kind of man he prided himself in being? His wife was as much a stranger to him as the girl who sold flowers at the entrance of the park.

The idea that she thought he would bed her by throwing up her nightrail and thrusting inside her, while she would have been in obvious discomfort or planning the week’s menus, was just too much to bear. Did she really believe he was such a beast? Oh, he knew she did not like him. She had made that very clear, but to think that poorly of him was infuriating. From the day he had entered his cradle, honour and duty were drilled into him. Whether she believed it or not, he was a man bound by honour. And that honour had cost him more than she knew.

Up ahead, three men on horseback cleared the trees. The sun had begun to paint the sky in pinks and yellows, and the rumble of his stomach told him a good breakfast might settle some of his anger. It was time to head home.

* * *

Gabriel was sitting in his breakfast room, tucking into his meal and reading
The Times
, when Bennett informed him the Earl of Hartwick was calling. Hopefully his friend was here to tell him something about the smell of the note belonging to the gunman. Glancing up, Gabriel followed Hart’s progress as he strolled into the room, his black frock coat fluttering behind him. If he had not handed over his coat to Bennett, Gabriel knew this wasn’t a social call.

Hart dropped into the chair next to him and tipped his head towards Bennett. The butler looked at Gabriel for approval before fetching a glass of his best brandy for the Earl. After taking a small sip, Hart ran his hand through his black hair, attempting to move a lock that had fallen over his bright blue eyes. ‘It’s a good thing you’re so predicable that I knew I’d find you here at this hour. I want you to know I had plans last night that I altered especially for you.’

Gabriel cut into his ham and studied Hart. ‘A bit early for brandy, wouldn’t you say?’

‘I’ve not gone to bed yet. Well, that is not exactly true...’

‘So I take it you have something to tell me.’

‘I do.’ Hart reclined back, a sly smile peaking over the rim of his glass. ‘I know who the gunman is.’

Gabriel put his fork down and leaned forward. ‘How?’

‘Do you not want to know how I reasoned it out?’

‘I fear I don’t have much of a choice, now do I?’

‘Not if you want that name. What has ruffled your feathers this morning?’

‘I’m unruffled, now talk.’

Hart studied him and took another sip of brandy. ‘It was a good thing Andrew mentioned the man’s accent when he showed me that note.’

‘His accent?’

‘Yes, he said he recognised it from his time near Manchester. Using that bit of information, I took a trip by the river to the Black Swan. Many of its patrons hail from up north. I simply asked a lively lass of my acquaintance who is a barmaid there if she would take a look at him for me. I was pleased to discover that she did indeed know the man.’ He took another slow sip, savouring his drink. ‘She also found identifying a prisoner quite exciting. So for that, I thank you.’

‘You took someone to the Tower without my consent?’ Gabriel tried to relax his fist.

Hart waved his hand casually in the air, which was all the more infuriating. ‘Apologies...deep regret...whatever it is you need to hear. But be aware I did not exactly have the opportunity to contact you at the time.’

‘And how did you explain your need to identify the man, and why he was being held in the Tower?’

‘I told her he attempted to rob me. She believed it, saying he was an unsavoury fellow who was known to annoy the patrons with talk of his disgust of the monarchy and those that serve it. And we played a game of sorts. She was blindfolded for our journey. I never told her we were in the Tower.’ Hart removed a folded piece of paper from the pocket of his black waistcoat and slid it towards Gabriel. ‘Here. That is his name, an area of town
and
information about the man’s family, because I am that good at what I do.’

Maybe now they would finally get some answers. Without opening it, Gabriel tapped his finger on the folded paper. ‘So maybe you are as good as you think you are.’

‘I will attempt to ignore the surprise in your voice.’

‘Had anyone at the Tower overheard the information your barmaid gave you?’

Hart shook his head and surveyed Gabriel’s breakfast. ‘I thought it best to gather all the details while she and I were alone.’

‘Hopefully there is useful information about his family to finally force him to talk. Andrew has been observing the interrogations. He informs me the man has a high threshold for pain.’

‘He will break sooner or later. How is our illustrious friend faring?’

Knowing how restless Prinny could be, Gabriel assumed he wasn’t handling his confinement well. ‘I am sure he can use a good card game or two to lift his spirits.’

‘I imagine I can spare some time. Unless you have something else you need me to do. Shine your boots?’

‘From the state of those Hessians, I believe I will continue to have Hodges tend to my boots.’

‘Some day you’ll have to remind me how I became involved with the lot of you and why I continue to remain.’

‘My father had said he asked for your assistance because you were cunning and had a greatness inside of you that you weren’t aware of. If you decided to end this association of ours, I assure you that you would be quite bored.’

‘You’re probably right, but I have a feeling I am not the only one who lives for excitement.’

* * *

When Gabriel returned home that evening, having more excitement in his life was the last thing on his mind. As he handed over his hat, gloves and walking stick, he noted the sound of laughter drifting into the entrance hall from somewhere else in the house. He raised a questioning brow to his butler.

Bennett cleared his throat. ‘It is Wednesday,’ he said as a way of explanation.

How could he have forgotten? It was the one day of the week that he and Olivia had agreed she could entertain at home and he would stay out. It had been a long time since he had been in his London residence this early on a Wednesday evening. All this pressure of finding out who was behind the assassination attempt must have caused the normal function of his brain to shut down.

He would go to his study and have a dinner tray sent there. But as he stepped down the hall, a distinct deep male laugh could be heard coming from the private dining room a few doors away. Gabriel moved to the open doorway and peered inside.

His wife was seated at the head of the table, with Andrew to her right. They were leaning close to one another, deep in what appeared to be congenial conversation. It was the very picture of a warm family moment, something Gabriel had not experienced with his wife in many years.

He had never looked to marry for love. Love was a bunch of sentimental drivel some of his classmates at Cambridge would drone on about, usually referring to a local girl who could lead them around by their passions. Thank goodness he and Olivia had been sensible enough not to seek that in a marriage. They’d had a comfortable friendship based on a mutual respect for each other’s opinions and interests. That, and the fact that he’d wanted to sink deep inside of her from the moment he saw her, told him this was the woman he needed to marry. She had been the ideal wife for him, until his responsibilities got in the way.

Leaning against the doorframe, he watched her smile widen at something Andrew said. That dimple that he hadn’t seen in ages graced her cheek and the urge to interrupt the quaint domestic scene overtook him.

‘I was unaware you would be dining here tonight,’ he called out, crossing his arms.

Olivia’s startled expression was a contrast to Andrew’s friendly greeting. Approaching her side, Gabriel raised an inquisitive brow at his brother while he snatched a grape off his wife’s plate.

She watched him bring it to his lips. ‘I didn’t expect you to be home.’

It was the first thing she had said to him since he’d stormed out of her room the night before. He was surprised by her attempt at civility, but then again, they were not alone.

‘It is my house,’ he replied, taking another grape. There were so many emotions running through him that it was difficult to grab on to one. His only thought was to wonder for the first time what exactly happened in his house on Wednesday evenings.

‘Would you care to join us?’ she asked, sounding as if she was chewing on glass.

Gabriel took a seat to her left instead of his customary chair, which was down the table across from hers. She ran her gaze over him with a wrinkled brow and Gabriel refused to consider why he felt an odd desire to stay near the warm sense of companionship. He motioned for a glass of claret from his footman. ‘So, what had you both so entertained when I walked in?’

Andrew shrugged and looked to Olivia. Gabriel raised his brows, waiting for her response, plucking yet another grape from her plate.

Her nostrils flared. ‘Frederick, please bring another place setting for His Grace,’ she said, glaring at Gabriel throughout her entire request.

After the words she’d spat at him last night, he found perverse pleasure in annoying her today. The footman was about to turn to enter the butler’s pantry when Gabriel stopped him with a raise of his hand. ‘No need, Frederick.’

Frederick turned back to resume his place by the door.

‘Nonsense. Frederick, the setting.’

The footman turned again towards the pantry.

‘Frederick, I said that will not be necessary. The Duchess’s plate holds just what I desire.’

The footman once again turned back to face the table, but this time instead of keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead, he watched Olivia.

‘Perhaps you are mistaken,’ she said, taking the last three grapes and popping them into her mouth in rapid succession. She narrowed her eyes at Gabriel, challenging him to take anything else from her plate.

He reached across and broke off a small wedge of cheese. It was a childish thing to do, but he could not resist the impulse. ‘I do believe you never did say what the two of you were discussing when I walked in,’ he said to her.

‘No, I do not believe we did.’ She lifted her plate and Frederick jumped to take it. ‘I know you are a very busy man. We do not wish to keep you from your business.’

Gabriel took a long drink and looked between his wife and Andrew. ‘My business can wait.’ He didn’t like the feeling of being pushed to the side—of not being privy to something that was going on under his roof.

He felt like an outsider.

He caught his brother’s eye. ‘I’m surprised to find you here.’

‘I don’t see why. I enjoy Olivia’s company.’

‘Andrew came here looking for you. I invited him to join me for dinner and he kindly accepted,’ Olivia broke in, glaring at Gabriel like she wanted to throttle him.

The gilded candelabra resting on the table a few feet away appeared to be very heavy and Gabriel wondered if he should have one of the footmen remove it.

‘I take it your presence here means your health has improved,’ Gabriel said to Andrew, wishing he could grab his brother and drag him out of the dining room without causing suspicion. If he had searched Gabriel out, there was a reason.

Andrew narrowed his gaze at Gabriel and leaned forward. ‘It has. Even though our mother is under the assumption I was suffering from the effects of too much ale. Now where do you suppose she acquired that notion?’

It took great effort for Gabriel not to sputter his wine back into his glass. He could not, however, hold back his smile. ‘I have absolutely no idea.’

Andrew nodded and fell back into his chair. ‘Just as I thought.’

‘I still cannot believe you were set upon by thieves on your way here,’ Olivia broke in. ‘I find it astonishing they would consider attacking you with your intimidating size. Hopefully, the bruises on your hand will heal quickly.’

Andrew shot a quick glance at Gabriel before looking at the knuckles of his right hand and flexing his fingers into a fist. ‘I’m sure the bruises will be gone in a day or two.’ He smiled warmly at Olivia. ‘You are very kind to be so concerned.’

‘Nonsense,’ she replied in earnest. ‘I wish you would let me send you home with some healing salve.’

‘I will be fine. Stop fussing so. Save your mothering for Nicholas,’ he said reassuringly.

The colour drained from Olivia’s face. The topic of mothering brought back all the horrid events of last night and Gabriel knew she was remembering them as well. He should be angry with her—hell, he had been. She had insulted his honour. But he couldn’t ignore the fact that he was to blame for what she thought of him.

The sight of her in that ridiculously large nightrail had set his blood on fire and made him instantly hard. He knew he would have embarrassed himself if he had managed to get all that fabric off her. It had been so long since they were together. Olivia had the most amazing bottom he had ever seen and over the last five years, four months and eleven days he’d found himself sneaking a glimpse of it whenever her back was to him.

His thoughts were on her curves when he heard his brother call his name. Shaking his head, he looked at Andrew.

‘I asked you how Nicholas liked his ride through Hyde Park. Olivia told me you took him.’

‘He liked it very much.’ He took another sip of claret, needing to redirect his thoughts away from Olivia’s soft skin and enticing curves. As he motioned for more wine, he caught Andrew’s amused expression.