Page 12 of The Duchess in His Bed
“We have other rooms for that, rooms with large accommodating beds.”
“So that’s where you’ll take me now.”
“No.”
“But I want to be bedded. I’ve told you that, confessed to it. I won’t object to your taking me.”
“You might want it, sweetheart, but you don’t desire it. I won’t take you to a bed until you do.”
Chapter 4
What he did do, however, was escort her to her carriage. It carried no markings, had been one her husband used on occasion when he wished to go someplace where he didn’t want his identity or title known. Aiden Trewlove kept his arm around her the entire way, with her snuggled against his side as though he were reluctant to be rid of her. She liked thinking that perhaps he was.
He gave her another kiss, this one on the back of her gloved hand, before assisting her into the carriage where she settled in against the comfortable squabs. Lushing had been a stickler for comfort.
Aiden Trewlove leaned against the frame of the doorway and studied her. Or perhaps he was striving to find a way to invite her back in that wouldn’t wound his pride. “If you still want to be bedded on the morrow, return here.”
As though her request had been a lark and she’d change her mind with the arrival of more time. “You vastly overestimate your appeal, Mr. Trewlove. You rejected my offer. I’m not likely to come crawling back.”
He gave her another one of those saucy grins that were beginning to irritate her, even as they caused her heart to flutter. “We’ll see how you feel tomorrow after taking me into your dreams tonight.”
With that, he slammed the door shut, shouted up an order, and the horses bolted forward. It took everything within her not to crane her head out the window and watch as her increasing distance from him caused him to shrink and disappear into nothing.
After arriving at the residence, still in somewhat of a daze from the fervent kiss Aiden Trewlove had delivered, she removed the key from her reticule and unlocked the front door. The expanse of gardens, brick walls, hedgerows, and trees surrounding her would prevent any prying neighbor from catching a glimpse of her. Although at this time of night, it was unlikely anyone was awake to peer out of a window. The only ones who knew she’d gone out were her lady’s maid, Bailey, who had helped her dress, and the driver who had taken her to the notorious club. She trusted them to be discreet and keep her confidence.
With the laces of her mask threaded through her fingers, she made her way up the stairs, her mind replaying those breathless moments spent within the arms of the club owner. Who would have thought that a kiss could be so encompassing?
She must have kissed Lushing a thousand times, but she’d never opened her mouth to him, and he’d most certainly never thrust his tongue between her lips and claimed everything within, claimed her. Was it because Aiden Trewlove was a commoner that he took such liberties? Were those in her station simply too civilized to respond in such an animalistic manner?
Opening the door to her bedchamber, she walked in, closed it, and leaned against the mahogany, remembering how Aiden had done the same. She glanced toward the bed, illuminated by a solitary lamp left burning on the bedside table. With a sigh, she realized she needed a moment to gain the wherewithal to prepare for slumber. She wondered what Aiden had been preparing for when he’d leaned against the door—not to ravage her perhaps. Her lips spread into the barest hint of a smile. She’d never before felt desired. It was an incredible—
“Did you have success at getting bedded?”
With a tiny screech, she jerked her gaze to the darkened corner where her brother sat, only his outstretched legs visible. She didn’t hide her displeasure as she marched over to her vanity, set the mask on it, and began tugging off her gloves. “What are you doing in here?”
The Earl of Camberley slowly pushed himself to his feet. All of twenty-seven, he was not a towering man, and yet he had inherited their father’s ability to appear intimidating. Although she had no doubt Aiden Trewlove would brush him away as though he were merely a pesky fly buzzing about. “Making sure you saw to your duty.”
She suspected her brother had mourned her husband’s passing more than anyone, because standing at the foot of the bed, watching as the Duke of Lushing drew his last breath, he’d looked over at her and said, “Pray tell me you are with child, lest we be ruined.”
She couldn’t tell him what he wished. For seven years, in spite of her husband occasionally coming to her bed, she remained barren. Without a male heir, the title would become extinct and the entailed properties would pass to Her Majesty’s Treasury. It seemed her husband and what few relations he’d possessed had not excelled at procreating or surviving long. Perhaps a man as virile as Mr. Trewlove might have better luck at giving her what she required.
Because her family, in spite of her brother’s title, was as poor as dirt. And she had a very short time in which to get herself with child. She could still claim it as the duke’s if it arrived ten months after his death. Babies sometimes arrived late. But after that...
And if it were a daughter, while the title would still become extinct, the girl would eventually inherit all the entailed properties because the terms of the entailment allowed it to go to a female if she had a direct bloodline to the first duke—which Selena would ensure the world believed she did.
What Selena was considering was deceitful and without honor, but she had need of the estates while the Crown did not. If Lushing had been content for everything to be handed over to the Treasury, he would never have married her, wouldn’t have tried to get her with babe. He had worked hard to ensure his properties were the finest in all of England. Surely he wanted to see his legacy carried on. Where was the harm in the world believing the child had come from his loins?
She had always been a good and faithful wife. When the cold winds had blown across the moors and the snows had fallen and he had taken ill, she had nursed him hour upon hour, wiping the sweat from his brow, changing his nightshirt when it became damp, encouraging him to eat, reading to him until she was hoarse. She truly mourned the loss of him, riddled with guilt because she’d failed to give him the one thing he asked of her: an heir.
Sitting on the cushioned bench, she began pulling pins from her hair while glaring at her brother’s reflection in the mirror. “Perhaps we’d all be better served if you’d attend to your duties as I’m well aware of mine.”
“See that you are.” He headed for the door.
“Winslow?”
He stopped but didn’t look back at her. Their father had brought the family to ruin with his inability to make wise investments, his reckless spending and gambling, and his penchant for brandy. Lushing had money to burn but he’d been frugal—probably the reason he’d had so much squirreled away. While he’d been willing to help her family to a certain extent, it hadn’t been enough to see them well situated.
The trustees of the entailment were presently limiting funds until it was known if she carried an heir. Apparently, they didn’t want her absconding with what they didn’t consider legally hers. “If anyone learns of this—”
