Page 38 of Duke in Darkness

Imogen slumped, the weariness of someone who has continued through suffering and can no longer, a dullness in her kind eyes. “I know you do, dear boy. And that is why I dare to ask this boon. Clarissa and I both yearn for the seaside. Fresh air and ocean spray. To ride horses and walk dogs and collect shells. London no longer holds any delights, the social whirl is exhausting, and the city is just so busy. Sometimes I swear I cannot think or catch my breath anymore.”

“Indeed,” he said slowly. “Where do you think to go? Bath, perhaps? Brighton?”

“One of my dower properties is a small manor in Cornwall—”

“You are planning to become a smuggler?”

Imogen’s jaw dropped. Then a tiny smile curved her lips. “Only if I overspend my widow’s portion.”

“Unlikely,” Gabriel replied, as he turned to Clarissa. “You are willing to…accompany my aunt to Cornwall, madam?”

She didn’t meet his gaze, instead looking at Imogen. “It would be my pleasure.”

Christ.

It was just as well he hadn’t taken a bite of the pastry he’d picked up, because he might have forgotten to chew. That look. How had he been so blind that he hadn’t seen the depth of devotion between the two women before? They were far more than mistress and companion. Far more than friends. That look had been tenderness, sensual heat and years of knowledge all at once, given in the confidence that the feelings were returned in full. In the army he’d seen a few instances of lustful gazes or too-long embraces, and two officers taking a woman to bed together. But considering the law, and the possible penalty of hanging, it was safer for all involved to pretend those men felt nothing more for each other than a close friendship or the bonds of brotherhood that the army forged in steel. Why it seemed more startling to witness between two ladies of the ton, he couldn’t say. If there were men who bedded each other, it stood to reason than women would also.

But such affection. Such care…

Pure envy shot through him. Imagine having that. Someone who knew all your faults and flaws, and yet still looked at you as though you made the sun rise and set.

“Exton?”

Jolted from his thoughts, Gabriel finished his pastry to gain a moment. Then he inclined his head. “I have no objection, Aunt.”

Imogen sat forward on the chaise, her eyes bright with hope. “Really?”

“I want you to be happy,” he replied, before adding, “together. I will require you to have staff. Footmen for protection, of course. You are the dowager Duchess of Exton. But your private affairs…are your own business.”

“You know,” said Clarissa, and tears began to stream down her cheeks. “Oh, Your Grace. You won’t banish me?”

“We won’t be separated?” added his aunt as she grasped Clarissa’s hand and squeezed it tightly.

“No. Of course not,” he said gruffly. “You’ve had enough dark days. Now for something good. I just ask that you be discreet.”

“I wish something good for you, also. With Lilian. Friendship and affection growing into love.”

A vise wrapped itself around his chest. He needed to get out of this parlor before he blurted the reason why his marriage would always have a shadow hanging over it. “Thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have…a meeting.”

And he left the room as fast as he was able.

CHAPTER 9

“Y our Grace! It’s right nice to see you.”

Lilian smiled and inclined her head at Daisy, the junior modiste in a popular Leicester Square shop. Xavier had been happily deposited at his club after their successful outing to the jeweler —there was only so much shopping with his older sister a young buck could tolerate—and Dawn had met her here, ready to assist in finding the perfect gown for the Castlereagh ball. Not only was Daisy a wonder with a needle and possessing a keen eye for color and fabric, but she had been the modiste who had secretly sewn the close-fitting yellow rebellion gown. Such a favor must be rewarded.

“Ah, so you’ve heard my news.”

“Beg pardon, ma’am, but everyone in London has. They are wondering when you are going to step out for the first time with His Grace. The new duke is so mysterious!”

Strolling further into the shop with Dawn trailing behind and two footmen waiting at the door to carry packages, Lilian’s gaze travelled over the bolts of fabric on display. Silk, satin, bombazine, cotton, twill, muslin, in a wide variety of hues. Below them were glass-fronted cabinets with trims like feathers, cards of lace, and ribbons. “Then I shall tell you a secret, Daisy. Exton and I will be attending the Castlereagh’s private ball as our first public outing. And I should like to wear a gown sewn by you, if you are available.”

Daisy gasped. “Ma’am! I mean…er, something as important as that, I’ll fetch a senior modiste—”

“I don’t want a senior modiste. I want you. Actually, I must warn you, I require far more than one ball gown. Exton insists that I have an entire new wardrobe. Evening gowns, tea gowns, morning gowns, underclothing, nightgowns, a riding habit…everything. He was quite taken with the jonquil-striped gown, and wishes all my attire to fit just so.”

The young woman swallowed hard and hopped from one foot to the other. “Of course. May I ask, er, when everything is needed?”