UNCOMMON DUKE, AN (6 page)

Chapter Seven

T
he next morning Gabriel leaned silently against the doorway of Mr Manning’s studio and watched Olivia recline along the divan, appearing to be a woman completely at ease in her surrounds. She was back here again, and he knew he had only himself to blame. If only he had been less interested in her when they were first married, he wouldn’t be standing here with his arms crossed to prevent himself from dragging her out.

When they had first met, it was evident Olivia had too great a mind for it to remain idle. That was why when he saw how much she enjoyed going to the Royal Academy and admiring the artwork, he’d encouraged her to pursue her interest. It was why he’d introduced her to Mr West and spoke with the man about having Olivia study art under his tutelage. She’d had no desire to create art, but she had a burning need to understand why certain pieces were revered. With her enthusiasm and intelligence, it was no surprise she became a well-respected expert of the Italian masters. His reward came from the luminous joy that shone from her each time she would talk about what she was learning. It didn’t occur to him until now that seeing her happy had meant that much to him.

And all these years later, she’d thanked him by posing for an indecent portrait that she intended to share with all of London. He should have encouraged her to pursue horticulture.

His thoughts were interrupted by Manning, who continued speaking with Olivia while mixing more paint. ‘Were there any scandals of note at the musical?’

‘None that I heard of,’ she said on a sigh. ‘Although, I try not to pay attention to such speculation.’

‘No one was compromised? No one was challenged?’ He approached her with a smile and adjusted her arm slightly.

‘Not that I witnessed,’ she replied grinning.

‘How about the Prince Regent? Any interesting tales of his exploits?’

‘None. In fact, he was not in attendance. I understand he is suffering terribly from the gout.’

‘That must make getting around rather difficult.’

‘I would think so.’

‘Has he been about?’

‘If he has, I’ve not seen him.’

Gabriel pushed away from the doorframe. ‘That is probably because you are devoting too much of your time to charitable causes such as this.’

There was a soft gasp from his unmoving wife.

‘Your Grace,’ the artist said in an uneven voice, bowing deferentially. ‘What a surprise.’

‘I decided to show myself in...again.’ He walked to the easel and crossed his arms. Today the canvas had paint on it. ‘Do you always begin your portraits there?’ Gabriel asked, looking at how Manning had captured the creamy skin of his wife’s neck and shoulders.

Manning tilted his head and studied the canvas. ‘No, it depends where my mood takes me.’

Gabriel’s attention was drawn to the top swell of his wife’s breasts, painted much too accurately. His fingers dug into his biceps. ‘My wife has sat long enough. She needs some refreshment.’

‘We have been stopping as often as she requires.’

‘You have painted quite a bit. I am certain she needs another.’

‘You may continue. I can assure you, I am well.’ Olivia’s voice rang out from across the room.

Manning shifted his gaze from his subject to Gabriel. Then his brown eyes widen momentarily. At least the man was not a complete nodcock. ‘The light has shifted. I believe we are finished for the day,’ he said, turning away from the canvas.

Olivia picked her head up and looked from the painter to Gabriel. ‘It was fine a few moments ago.’

‘It was shifting even then. I was only trying to finish the last few strokes.’

‘There will be no more strokes today,’ Gabriel said drily, strolling towards Olivia.

She glared at him but allowed him to help her to stand. ‘What are you doing here?’ she whispered sharply, adjusting the skirt of that enticing gown.

‘I told you,’ he whispered back, handing her a glass of wine that had been placed on a table near her, ‘I have come to see you have some refreshment. Now go and change. I am taking you to Gunter’s for ice.’

He expected her to argue, but she took a sip of wine and narrowed her eyes at him. He could tell she was up for a good row. He was starting to learn the signs.

A short while later, they sent Colette home in Olivia’s carriage, and Gabriel helped his hesitant wife into his high-perch phaeton. When he climbed into the box from the other side, he looked over to find her eyeing his new equipage. It was an exceptional piece of craftsmanship, with its highly glossed black finish that reflected the London streets like a mirror.

‘Is your artist always such a washer-woman?’

‘If you are asking if he enjoys gossip, I suppose he does. Talking, as you are well aware, helps to make portrait sessions bearable.’

‘I would not think a man like that would be interested in the social life of someone like Prinny.’

‘Come now, are you truly that jaded? Most everyone is interested in what he does. Manning is like most aspiring portrait artists. He would love to have the cache to say the Prince Regent sat for him. To have his work displayed in a royal residence would be quite the accomplishment.’

‘You have introduced them?’

‘Not yet.’

‘But you plan to?’

‘If the opportunity should present itself, I do not see why I would not. Manning is extremely talented. Surely you can see that from the pieces displayed in his studio? He has even painted Nicholas for me.’

‘I will agree the man possesses talent, however did I not tell you that you were not to sit for him again?’

‘You did.’

A scruffy dog darted out into the road, and Gabriel expertly manoeuvred the phaeton around it. The carriage rocked back and forth on its wheels. ‘If you heard my command, why were you in his studio today?’ He glanced over at Olivia, who was sitting with her hands gripped tightly together.

‘I never agreed to your request.’

‘It was not a request, and you knew that.’ Now he pulled abruptly to a stop as a newsboy ran across the road.

Olivia made an odd sound. ‘I honour my commitments, and I told him I would sit for him.’

‘Now you must tell him you’ve changed your mind.’

‘I cannot do that.’

‘You mean you will not.’ He snapped the reins, making the phaeton go faster.

Her hands moved to grip the seat.

‘Tell him I forbid it,’ he continued.

‘You forbid it?’ she ground out.

Gabriel nodded, glanced down at her hands, and focused his attention back on the road. If she was not wearing gloves, he was certain her knuckles would be white. ‘Why are you so nervous?’

‘I find I do not like sitting this far above the ground.’

He took the reins in one hand and pulled her closer to him. ‘Do you feel safer away from the edge?’

Olivia nodded a fraction of an inch.

‘I will not let any harm come to you.’

Her eyes searched his and everything fell away around them. Then she quickly turned away and watched the people strolling in and out of the shops. ‘You should be looking at the road,’ she advised him.

‘But the view next to me is infinitely more appealing.’ How he wished he could see her face past the rim of her bonnet.

‘The road please,’ she reminded him with a crack in her voice.

It was a good thing they were close to Gunter’s. If he continued to be tempted to stare at her, he was sure to crash into something. They turned onto Berkeley Street, and the trees of the square came into view. ‘We have not settled our discussion,’ he reminded her, searching for a place to park.

‘Yes we have. You do not want me to have my portrait done, and I do.’

‘Just to clarify, I do not want you to have
that
portrait done for an exhibition.’

‘I realise it is rather bold. However, you’ve seen the preliminary sketch. No one will know it’s me.’

‘Rather bold? It is much too provocative.’ How could she not understand that?

‘If I did not know you better, I would think you were jealous.’

He parked the phaeton along the garden across from the confectioner’s shop. There was nothing he could say to her comment, so he chose not to acknowledge it. ‘What flavour of ice would you care for?’ he asked, purposely changing the subject.

She gave a slight shake of her head. ‘I have no preference. You choose.’

Gabriel studied her passive features. If he selected a flavour she hated, would she turn that into an argument? He addressed the waiter that approached his side of the phaeton. ‘I shall have bergamot ice and Her Grace will have pineapple.’

Olivia’s eyes widened momentarily. He was certain he guessed incorrectly, until she granted him a small smile. ‘How did you know that is my favourite?’

‘You would order it when I would take you here years ago.’

‘I’m surprised you remembered.’

So was he. They sat in silence, Gabriel recalling the times they’d sat under this very tree before their marriage fell apart. When the waiter arrived with their order, Gabriel relaxed and began to enjoy his ice.

‘I never knew you liked bergamot,’ she commented, sliding a delicate spoonful of ice into her mouth.

Gabriel shrugged. ‘I have recently become partial to the taste. Have you ever tried it?’

‘Yes, I found it rather good.’

‘Well, this is mine. Enjoy your pineapple, and next time I will order you bergamot.’ The thought of taking her here again made him grin.

Her forehead wrinkled before she turned away. Now what had he done wrong? He was only teasing her.

For the remainder of their time at Gunter’s neither spoke. They were almost home when Olivia broke the heavy silence that hung over them. ‘Why does it really matter to you if I sit for that portrait? For years you have made it quite clear you have no interest in me. I could have walked through the house in animal skins, and you would not have noticed. Now, you are concerned about a portrait and buying me ice. Why?’

Gabriel turned the phaeton into their drive and with the lift of his hand he dismissed the footman coming down the steps towards them. He faced her, staring into her brown eyes that were flecked with gold. ‘You were the one who told me you never wanted me to touch you again. For five years I have had no notion if you still feel that way, or if you spoke those words in haste and have since regretted them. You would not speak to me, so I had no way of finding out. But the other night when you assumed I would take you with no regard to your comfort... I had no idea your opinion of me was that low.’

She looked at him as if he had sprouted a second head. ‘The day I suffered through hours of birthing pains to have our son, you were with a harlot in her brothel. They searched for you for hours and could not find you. When you finally arrived home, no one had to tell me you were with a woman. I knew. Her scent was all over you. God, I can still smell that cloying perfume. What kind of man do you think that makes you? I believed you when you told me you cared for me.’

‘I did care for you. I still do—’

‘Apparently, not enough. I know what kind of man you are. The entire
ton
knows what kind of man you are. The very first ball I attended after giving birth to Nicholas I was plagued with pitying looks and whispers behind fans. I was the woman whose husband was bedding another while she was bearing his heir. And that name swarmed around me for weeks.
Madame LaGrange
. Everyone knew—everyone,’ she said vehemently. ‘Occasionally her name will still drift into conversations around me. Now you buy me ice and fuss over a portrait?’

Hearing Madame LaGrange’s name on her lips made him want to vomit. No one should know of their connection—not even Olivia. And somehow, someone saw him leave her room that day and word spread among the
ton
like fire through a wheat field in autumn. Even the servants knew. He would not allow anyone to find out that Madame LaGrange worked for him. He had made that mistake once before with Matthew, and it had cost the man his life.

For a moment it was years earlier and Gabriel was back in the garden in Richmond, flashes of lightning were slashing the inky blackness around him, rain poured onto Matthew’s bloodied body that was seeping his life out in Gabriel’s arms, and the last person on earth he thought would betray him was standing over him, pointing a gun at his chest. It had become his reoccurring nightmare ever since.

How could he possibly explain to Olivia that he’d never bedded Madame LaGrange without divulging the woman’s secret? A secret he would take to his grave. No one was ever going to die again because he placed his trust in the wrong person.

The pain dulling her eyes sliced through him. ‘I never meant to hurt you.’

It was all he could say.

She lowered her head, her face now obscured by her bonnet. Although they were married just a few months before Nicholas was born, in that time he had come to care deeply for her. His lies of omission had cost them both.

When she raised her head, he caught the determination in her eyes. ‘If you ever had any kind regard for me at all, you will grant me one thing.’

‘What is it that you want, Olivia?’

‘I want another child.’

That was not what he expected her to say. His thoughts had been on the portrait. ‘Olivia, I’ve always wanted more children with you.’ Now hopefully Nicholas would know what it was like to grow up with a brother or sister.

Chapter Eight

O
livia stared sightlessly at her reflection in the mirror on her dressing table while Colette brushed her hair. Her thoughts kept returning to her conversation with Gabriel earlier in the day. Confessing how she felt about him had been liberating. For years she wanted to tell him what a scoundrel she thought he was. Instead she’d stood silently by pretending she was indifferent to him when deep down she despised him for his betrayal.

She despised him for making her believe he might have had tender feelings for her. She despised him for making her feel as if she were not good enough for him. And she despised him the most for being the man she had fallen in love with.

Now that she’d told him what she truly thought of him, some of her hatred had lifted. She understood what place she had in his life, and now he knew what place he had in hers. She could not allow her feelings for him to return. It would be too painful.

‘There’s no need to plait it, Colette,’ Gabriel’s deep voice rumbled from the doorway connecting their rooms.

The hairbrush Colette was using fell to the floor. Perhaps she should have warned her maid that Gabriel would be coming to her room tonight.

‘That will be all, Colette,’ she said, finding it hard to stop staring at him. He was lounging in the doorway with casual elegance, wearing a navy silk-brocade banyan and holding two glasses in one hand. In the other, he held a bottle. It had been years since she had seen him out of his impeccable attire and it took her a moment to remember to breathe.

‘I did not hear you open the door,’ she said.

‘Perhaps you were too wrapped up in your thoughts,’ he replied, pushing off from the doorframe and advancing towards her. He poured out the ruby-red liquid into each glass and handed her one. ‘It is the ninety-eight Château Lafite. As I recall, it was your favourite.’

‘How is that possible? Bennett has been searching for that vintage for years.’

‘That’s because Bennett does not know about the bottles I have hidden away.’

‘From me?’

‘No, I simply have a few bottles left locked in my study.’

‘And you have not drunk them?’

‘The Lafite was your favourite. I had no desire to indulge until now.’

‘I thought that might have been port. I remember thinking I was quite bold when we would drink it together in our rooms,’ she replied. The wine tasted just as rich and smooth as she remembered.

‘You always enjoyed trying new things.’ His eyes dropped to her mouth as she licked the taste of the wine from her lower lip.

‘You never made me feel self-conscious.’

‘I enjoyed your enthusiasm for things I long took for granted.’ He stepped closer and poured more wine into her glass.

‘Are you attempting to get me tipsy?’

‘I thought both of us could use something to relax us.’ He took a slow drink from his glass, his eyes not leaving hers.

‘You expect me to believe you are nervous?’

Gabriel shook his head. ‘I did not say I was nervous. Apprehensive might be a better word.’

‘Because?’ Oh, she really needed this wine. He was much too close and smelled wonderful.

‘Because I want to depart from your bedchamber without having a piece of porcelain flung at my head.’

So he wanted to lay the cards on the table. That was fine with her. ‘Continue to be your delightful self and we should have no problems. I do have two requests, though.’

‘Of course, how may I be of service?’

‘Since this is a temporary reconciliation of sorts, there is no need to pretend otherwise to the
ton
.’

‘You wish for our accord to remain a secret.’

‘I wish to avoid the questions that will arise when our behaviour towards one another returns to its usual state.’

He studied her as if she were a complex puzzle he was attempting to decipher. ‘It may not.’

Her heart couldn’t bear for it to be otherwise. Getting closer to him would only open the wounds that were just now starting to heal. ‘I have no doubt it will.’

‘And your other request?’

She swallowed the remainder of her wine to gather the courage. ‘While we are here—’ she motioned between them ‘—I would like your word as a gentleman that you will not have any intimate encounters with other women.’

‘Here?’ he asked, purposely pretending ignorance.

Dealing with him could be so exasperating at times. ‘While we are trying to conceive a child, I would like you to refrain from bedding anyone else.’

‘I see no problem with your request. Very well.’

She searched his eyes for a clue he was being sincere. ‘Consider my request carefully. Make certain you can comply.’

He took a sip and nodded over his glass. ‘I have no doubt I can comply.’

Was he telling the truth? He had a strong sexual appetite. Olivia knew this first hand. Did that mean he planned to bed her—a lot? She poured more wine into her glass. ‘So then you will be monogamous.’

‘I will expect the same from you,’ he said, narrowing his gaze.

She had not strayed from their wedding vows—he had. Could she throw her wine in his face and still expect him to bed her? Probably not. ‘I assure you I have honoured my marriage vows.’

Gabriel looked as if he were about to say something, but instead downed the rest of his wine. He lifted Olivia’s glass out of her hand and placed it on the dressing table beside his. ‘We need to get you out of that,’ he said, looking down at her dressing gown.

This was it then. Now she would know if she could give him her body without opening up her heart. She turned away from him to avoid his gaze and prayed this would not be a mistake. Slowly she slid off her dressing gown. The warmth from his fingers as they brushed her hair forward over her shoulder made her skin tingle. Her body had changed since she’d had Nicholas. It was softer and rounder. Would he still find it pleasing?

‘At least you are not wearing enough fabric to supply all the upstairs maids with aprons.’

‘Your seductive skills are as impressive as ever,’ she muttered and could not help but grin at his laugh.

‘And yet I have only begun exercising them. Take care, you may swoon when you hear what I will say when I finally spring you from that bewitching garment.’

This time she did laugh. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the realisation that they were going to have to do this a number of times before she actually conceived—perhaps for months. The very notion made intimate parts of her flutter.

‘I am certain you will have me shaking with need,’ she teased. But when she slipped her nightrail over her head and turned around, the smile fell from her lips.

His heated gaze left her practically without breath. He took one finger and trailed a line of warmth from her ear, down her neck, across her collarbone and finally between the curves of her breasts. His eyes traced every movement of his finger. It would be impossible for him not to feel her heartbeat quicken with each area he touched.

‘You are even more beautiful than I remembered,’ he murmured, cupping a breast.

It was all coming back to her. Every touch. Every kiss. Every time she’d cried out his name. When he lowered his lips to hers and coaxed her with gentle nips to open her mouth, memories of the times they’d spent together flooded her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push images from the past out of her head. Part of her wanted to remind herself that he could not be trusted, but another part of her wanted to believe he truly wanted only her as much as she wanted only him. During this time together she would take her pleasure, but she would not allow herself to fall in love with him again.

The kiss deepened and a sense of urgency replaced the initial gentleness.

‘We both want this, Olivia.’ His words filled her mouth with his breath. ‘I do not wish to fight with you any more.’

She tasted his familiar lips, sweetened with the delicious wine. She missed this—missed him. He groaned into her mouth and she could not resist unbuttoning his banyan to feel the heat of his hard smooth skin.

While they were together, she would take as much pleasure as she could stand. Then she would lock these memories away when their time together was over. She could resist the spell of his body.

When she slid her hands up his chest, the banyan fell to the floor. He stepped closer. Their bodies fit together like pieces of a puzzle. It had been so long. She traced the bumps of his ribs. How had a man who sat behind a desk all day remained this muscular?

As he caressed her bottom, he groaned again. Lifting her into his arms, he released her gently on the bed and his body followed hers.

‘Are you comfortable?’ he asked, trailing hot kisses along her neck.

Trying to breathe somewhat normally, she skimmed her hands along his spine and rested them at the curve of his lower back. ‘I am quite well,’ she managed to reply.

He bit gently into her neck and slid his thumb around her nipple. It was growing painfully hard and she didn’t want him to stop.

‘You feel very well,’ he rasped.

‘So do you,’ she said with a moan.

He smiled against her neck and she lowered her hand even more. His weight shifted slightly, pressing her into the mattress. Sliding his tongue along the upper swell of her breast, he groaned loudly as he sucked her nipple into his mouth. She had forgotten how good that felt and gripped his head with both her hands. After giving her right breast exquisite attention, he kissed his way over to the left. She could feel the heat pooling between her legs and ground her pelvis into him. Then he kissed a path down to her stomach...

It was becoming difficult to remember how much she disliked this man.

He nipped at her thigh. ‘I want you ready for me.’

‘I am ready,’ she managed to say through strangled breath.

He shook his head and his soft hair tickled the inside of her thighs. Fluttering her eyes open, she met his gaze.

She struggled for air as their eyes locked and he lowered his mouth between her legs. His eyes closed momentarily, as if he were savouring his favourite dessert. He placed long, slow licks while his gaze bore into her.

The air in the room disappeared as her body responded to the amazing things his mouth was doing to her. She did not want him to stop. He continued to torture her with his mouth until she began to tremble, then she let out a loud cry as she came. His strong arms held her down, as he continued to lick and suck her. She had to push his head away to make him stop.

Her eyes would not open. Struggling to catch her breath, she felt him rise above her.

‘I believe you’re ready now,’ he whispered against her neck.

Before she could think of a response, he was sliding inside her. Her back bowed. How she had loved feeling this filled. Within moments she was meeting him thrust for thrust. He was bringing her to the edge all over again, watching her as sweat formed on his chest.

‘You feel even better than I remembered,’ he said, brushing the hair out of her eyes as he continued to thrust inside her.

She did not want to remember, did not want to be reminded of everything that happened between them up to this moment. ‘Don’t. Stop.’

His movements became more urgent.

She dug her nails into his back.

‘Hurry,’ he ground out.

He was waiting for her and that lovely gesture set her over the edge again. As he let out a loud groan, he came and soon afterwards collapsed on top of her.

Gabriel’s heavy weight was nearly crushing her. As if somehow he knew he rolled, taking her with him so her head rested against his chest. The rapid staccato of his heartbeat matched her own.

She could not move. Moreover, she did not want to.

‘Livy, you still turn me inside out.’

Oh, no, not that! Why did he have to ruin it and call her that?

She opened her eyes. He was smiling down at her—smiling that smile that made the corner of his eyes crinkle and lit up her world.

That smile that he had given only to her, all those years ago.

She stumbled out of bed and reached for her nightrail. Throwing it over her head, she caught his bewildered expression. She needed to get him out of this room as fast as possible. If she did not, she did not know if her heart could stand it. She pressed her hand against her lips to prevent herself from saying anything foolish.

‘Livy, what is the matter?’

Why did he have to keep calling her that? It was what he had called her when he was being all sweet years ago.

‘You need to go.’

He closed his eyes and draped his arm over his face, showing her the curve of his biceps. ‘I am tired, Olivia, and it is late. I just want to sleep.’

‘Here?’ she squeaked.

Picking up his head, he peered at her through one eye. ‘Yes, here, I have done it before. Now come back to bed.’ He closed his eye and settled into the blankets.

Now what was she to do? He was much too big to drag out of bed. She picked up his banyan and held it out to him. ‘We never agreed you would sleep here.’

He lifted his head again and eyed her. His hair was tousled and there was a slight shadow on his face from his evening whiskers, giving him a roguish quality. ‘I was not aware everything we do would be up for negotiation.’ He rolled to his side, propping his head in his hand and exposing his hard muscular chest. ‘We just had a brilliant time together, and to be truthful my legs are not quite steady at the moment. Let us not ruin tonight by arguing. Please, come back to bed.’

Olivia felt herself weakening, but if he slept here she feared it would be harder to keep him out of her heart. Especially when he was all sweet and rumpled. He eyed her expectantly.

Pushing back her shoulders, she took a deep breath. She could do this. She could sleep with him without it affecting her in the least. Many women slept with their husbands without even liking them. It was just sex, two bodies responding to one another. That was all it was. It had nothing to do with feelings of any kind.

She folded his banyan carefully and placed it at the foot of her bed. Reluctantly, she slid under the covers. If she laid on her back with distance between them, she would be fine.

Gabriel slid beside her and pulled her close. This would never work. Squeezing her eyes shut, she turned on her side to get away from him, but his arm tightened as he spooned his body against her.