Page 15 of The Duchess in His Bed
He moved his head nearer to her. “Hence, my reason for coming early. He was much respected and liked among his peers. They shall all come to express their condolences.”
The duke would remain in repose in the parlor until tomorrow morning when he would be paraded through the streets in grand style in a black hearse pulled by six black horses adorned in black ostrich feathers and laid to rest at Abingdon Park, the garden cemetery where he’d purchased two burial plots. Although she didn’t think he’d expected to make use of his so soon. His final words to her seemed to relieve her of any obligation to use the one designated as hers: “Love is all that matters. Find someone deserving of yours.”
As though he hadn’t been. It hurt if she contemplated it too much.
Despite being only thirty-seven, he’d designed every aspect of the ceremony that would mark his departure from the world. Tomorrow’s activities would not include her as she was too delicate for such a solemn and grief-filled occasion. The public was not to see her grieving. She was to stay in residence and do it privately.
“He had everything planned out, all the way down to his eulogy. Every Christmas Eve, he would pour himself a glass of brandy and rework his eulogy to better reflect his life at that moment. Who goes to such bother regarding how their death is to be handled when they are so young?” she asked.
“His three siblings never saw the age of twenty. On his father’s side, the members were plagued with ill health and accidents, which is the reason he has no relations from that half of his family. He once told me he saw himself as a lone survivor. It gave him a rather grim outlook, I fear. He always felt the cold scepter of death lurking. On the other hand, he did tend to appreciate more than most each day he was given, tried to make the best of it.”
“Was he faithful to me?”
Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head in order to erase the words spoken. But after the passion she’d experienced last night, she couldn’t imagine Lushing not seeking elsewhere the same sort of fire that she’d been unable to stir to life within him. Opening her eyes, she gave Kit a bashful smile, rather certain her cheeks were aflame. “I don’t know why I asked that. Please don’t answer.”
His blue eyes held sympathy and understanding. “He was involved with someone before you were married, but he had no relations with anyone other than you once your vows were exchanged.”
“Did he love her? Why didn’t he marry her?”
“It is not often that dukes are allowed to marry for love.”
“Is she the reason he had a falling-out with his father?”
He hesitated for several heartbeats before finally nodding. “His father didn’t approve of the choices Lushing’s heart had made. I think his father would have disowned him if primogeniture and the terms of the entailment hadn’t made it impossible for Lushingnotto inherit. His father was quite furious and unforgiving. Thank God for the law that protected his inheritance.”
It was no secret that Lushing’s deep and abiding friendship with Kit had helped him to survive those trying years when his father had cast him out. Even upon his deathbed, as he succumbed to the ravages of cancer, Lushing’s father refused to allow his only remaining child entry into the residence in order to have a final farewell.
“I’m surprised he didn’t rebel and marry her.” If he had loved her enough to offend his father, why hadn’t he taken her to wife?
“The relationship was complicated. It would not have served him well in the end to make it public.”
She wondered if the lady had been married or perhaps a servant. Maybe someone uneducated who would not have fit in at all. Or a by-blow.
Kit gave her a warm smile. “Besides, you caught his fancy. You made him quite happy, Selena.”
While the physical aspect of their relationship might have been lacking, she’d never doubted that Lushing had cared for her, and until last night had never doubted his devotion.
“And if this child you carry is a boy, he will be smiling down from heaven.”
Her gut clenched, and her chest tightened. She’d needed to plant the seed of a possible heir early, so she’d decided to use him as her foil because he was so close to Lushing and people would take his word if he supported her claim regarding the child’s paternity. “There could be other reasons my menses is delayed.” It hadn’t been late at all, had ended a mere five days ago.
“I shall pray you are late for the most joyous of reasons. Lushing had begun to fear the mumps had left him infertile.”
Three years into their marriage, he’d confessed his worries to her. At nineteen, he’d contracted a rather severe case of the horrid disease that had caused swelling not only on either side of his jaw but in his testicles as well. He’d avoided looking at her when he’d shared what she realized was an incredibly personal and embarrassing situation for him. She’d feared the lack of ease between them when it came to the bedding had caused her womb to tighten up to such a degree that it wouldn’t allow his seed to take root. “Please, don’t mention my possible condition to anyone, not until more time has passed. I don’t want to invite any bad luck,” she told Kit now.
“All your secrets are safe with me.”
He looked back toward the casket, and she couldn’t help but wonder what secrets Lushing had shared with him. More than she’d ever be willing to share. She certainly wasn’t going to tell him about Aiden Trewlove or her plans to return to the Elysium Club tonight. Only she wouldn’t settle for a kiss in the wee hours of the morning, no matter that her knees were going soft simply with the thought of his mouth once more on hers. No, Aiden Trewlove would bed her, or she’d move on to someone more willing to act quickly.
Time was not on her side.
Just as he had the night before, he spied her the moment she waltzed through the doorway. She wore the same gown of deep blue, no doubt purchased solely for her clandestine visits to his club, something she wouldn’t wear on any other occasion lest one of the ladies in attendance recognize it and realize she’d been recalcitrant in observing her proper period of mourning. That possibility had occurred to him as he’d been sketching what he did know of her features. Her fear of discovery had little to do with the sinning and more to do with the timing of it. He’d never understood the requisite mourning periods, spelled out so succinctly in books on etiquette. Not that he’d ever admit to reading about the subject, but he’d always been fascinated by what was consideredproperbehavior. Not to mention, as a boy, a secretive part of him had wanted to be prepared if his father ever deemed to publicly acknowledge him. He hadn’t wanted to embarrass his sire, even though his birth had managed to accomplish that, marking him as a child of shame.
So his widowed duchess was probably still in mourning. He’d wager tonight’s take on his having the right of it. With a bit of asking around regarding which dukes had passed within the past two years, he could probably discern exactly who she was. Odd thing, though. He who always wanted to know everything about his clientele and was quite skilled at discovering things they didn’t always know about themselves—family debts, by-blows, a distant uncle who liked to wear corsets, an aunt who had once posed in the nude for a famous artist, a sister who had turned to the church because of an affair—didn’t want to ferret out her secrets. He wanted her to confess them all, whisper them in his ear as their bodies writhed over satin sheets.
He didn’t make her wait for him tonight, even though he knew his eagerness to be in her company gave her power over him. He’d find a way to offset it, to ensure he didn’t become subservient to her desires, even as his for her were proving dangerous and reckless. While he flirted with the ladies who visited here, he never seduced them.
Her he wanted to seduce thoroughly and slowly, tormenting them both. For the life of him, he couldn’t discern this need that seemed to override all common sense. Perhaps it was because she’d stated so bloody succinctly that she wanted to be bedded, and he feared once she was, she’d traipse out of his life as easily as she’d traipsed into it. He already knew that for him, one fuck wasn’t going to be enough. No, he wanted a multitude of them, so many that they’d lose count, so many they’d still be going at it when they were wrinkled and silver-haired.
