His Temporary Duchess (Dukes Ever After #5)

Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

S ebastian knew he had made a mistake the moment he walked into the dining room the next morning and found his wife hard at work directing the servants to remove the curtains he had forbidden her from interfering with.

His servants. His curtains.

“What,” he demanded, his voice cold, “do you think you are doing?”

She looked back at him with rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes, and he fought back the memory of everything that had happened between them the previous night. The way she had sounded in the carriage as he had tormented her, bringing her to her peak and refusing to tip her over the edge. The wet, hot feel of her against his fingers. He had longed to use more than just his fingers then, and he did even more so now.

His irritation roared at the persistent lust flooding his body. If only he had never met her. Or if he had just married one of her awful sisters. Then he might at least have had some peace inside his mind, even if not inside his house.

Eleanor gave him neither.

“Good morning,” she told him sunnily.

“I did not ask if it was a good morning. I asked what you are doing.”

“What do you think I am doing?” She gestured at the curtains, the stately green replaced by a pink-and-white print. “I thought these might be a little brighter. And, you see, they tone beautifully with the wallpaper, so there is no obligation to change anything else in the room unless we should wish it.”

“I told you not to change anything at all .” He nodded at the footmen attempting to pin the material in place. “You may leave us.”

They bowed immediately. “Yes, Your Grace.”

Sebastian turned to Eleanor. “You persist in defying me.”

Her cheeks turned a deeper color. “You make it hard not to, Sebastian. Either I do as you say and get no part of you, or I resist your instructions and I get far more of you.”

“And why do you want more of me?”

“Why do you think?” Her head tilted to one side. “You are my husband. What else should I want?”

“A life separate from me. Away from me.” He found he had stepped closer until her backside pressed against the edge of the table. “Why do you persist in trying to have a relationship with me when I have made it plain I wish for none with you?”

“Do you?” She rested a hand against his chest and looked up into his face. “Do you really wish for nothing to do with me?”

Yes . He knew what he had to say. One simple word that was close enough to the truth that he could pretend it encompassed all of the truth. A half-lie that he could convince himself he meant utterly.

And yet, he could not bring himself to say the word. His entire plan hinged on having nothing to do with her in the slightest. To push her away to such a degree, in fact, that she would be prepared to annul their marriage and leave him to his life of solitude.

He would be safe there.

He was no longer certain he wanted to be safe.

Her gray eyes sparkled as they looked up at him, soft lips curving delightfully. How could he ever have thought her nothing more than reasonably pretty? She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful lady of his acquaintance. Stunning, compelling in every way. The soft dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks that he wanted to kiss. The delicate point of her chin. The lashes that arched up to her browbone, as dark as her hair.

He had not seen her face the previous evening in the carriage; it had been too dark. But he knew now, looking down at her, precisely how she would have appeared.

He craved her.

To silence his urges, he took a lock of her hair in his hands, running it through his fingers. Just as soft as he had imagined, perhaps more so.

“You deserve more than I can ever give you,” he said quietly. “You would be better placed elsewhere as another man’s wife.”

“Then why marry me in the first place?” When he said nothing, she reached up onto her toes, her face dangerously close to his. “Tell me, Sebastian. Tell me why you want nothing to do with me, and I will go. But unless you do, I will fight. Anything to make you notice me. Anything to make you punish me. If that brings you joy, you may do it as often as you like.”

“And deny you every time?” He caught her hair in his hand, tightening his grip until he saw awareness of the pain pass across her features. “Is that what you would prefer, my dear? To never know the glorious rush of climax? To always be left wanting by my hand?”

“Better your hand than any other’s,” she whispered.

He dropped her hair abruptly and stepped back. This had gone too far. He needed space to breathe and come into himself. Perhaps he would need a new plan. Punishing her, after all, had been a punishment for them both, given he had needed to force himself not to touch her and give her pleasure. All it had done was inform him of how much he wanted her pleasure, and how much more important that was to him than his own.

He had not been thinking clearly.

He just feared if he was, then he might not choose to force her to leave.

Eleanor carefully arranged the freshly gathered blooms into porcelain vases, adjusting a wayward petal here, tilting a stem just so. She stepped back, head tilted, assessing her work with a critical eye. Venturing into Sebastian’s study with an armful of flowers would be nothing short of reckless—he was best left undisturbed when brooding over his ledgers. But by placing them in the drawing room, the dining room, anywhere he might pass through, she hoped to lure him beyond mere contentment. Perhaps even into something resembling happiness.

One day, he would appreciate having a wife.

At least, so she hoped. These small touches—the curtains he had argued so firmly against, and the flowers, and everything else she could think of to do—would improve his life enough that he would welcome her place in it. He would see all the ways she improved things. And if he saw fit to punish her for her transgressions again… well, she could not say she would object. The more he gave into his desire for her, the greater hold she would have over him, and the more likely he would be to want her to stay.

Her greatest fear was if he should send her back to Margaret in disgrace, determined to live separately. That happened for some married couples; once she bore him an heir or two, he shipped her off to another house entirely, and they conducted the rest of their lives in isolation from one another.

Sebastian could not be allowed to get rid of her.

At least she had not borne him a son yet. He had not, to her knowledge, committed the act that would get her with child, so she had at least some chance of persuading him to fall in love with her.

Not that she loved him, exactly. But he had shown just enough of himself to her that she thought she could love him, and it was her duty as his wife to try.

Once she finished arranging the flowers, she called for the carriage for a meeting with Olivia. Both to update her friend on her progress, and to get some more advice about what other things she could do to persuade Sebastian to fall in love with her.

When she arrived at Olivia’s house, the two girls decided to take a walk in Hyde Park so they could talk privately.

“For you know Mama likes to listen in on everything we say,” Olivia said as they set out, arm in arm under the warm summer sunshine. “And she cannot hear of this, though I have no doubt it’s a common enough affliction. Young ladies often need advice on how to seduce their husbands, I think.”

“And you are an authority on the matter?” Eleanor teased.

“I certainly know more than you. So tell me what happened at the ball? I’m devastated that Mama refused to let me attend.”

“It would have been nice to see a friendly face there,” Eleanor agreed, but although she sighed, her disappointment was short-lived. She had too much to tell, and in truth, she hadn’t felt the loss of Olivia too much when Sebastian had spent so much of the ball by her side.

She told Olivia everything that happened, though she glossed over the details of precisely what occurred in the carriage. Better not to shock her friend too far, although she had a sneaking suspicion that Olivia would have delighted in the details and thought it was very much a good thing.

Even so, her face lit up when Eleanor explained that they had been somewhat intimate in the carriage, even if he had then proceeded to ignore her.

“I just do not know how I can get him into my bed,” she said as they passed through the gates into Hyde Park. “Of course, I know that he wants me. Even today, he could not hide that. And when I displease him, he gives me more attention than he would have done if I merely obeyed his rules.” She gave a shocked giggle. “I am becoming quite the rebel. But for all that, he does not visit my bed. He does not even seem as though he is tempted, though I would have thought…”

“I am positive he is,” Olivia declared. “What man could not be? Especially after something happened between you both. But for whatever reason, he is resisting your charms.”

“He told me that he has no wish to like me.”

“Hmm.” Olivia pursed her lips. “Perhaps he has made a vow never to fall in love with his wife.”

Or perhaps he had made a vow never to form a connection with anyone. Eleanor had not missed the way Sebastian avoided friendships. He actively tried to ignore her, and when he could not, denying her seemed to cause him near pain.

Then there was the matter of the servants. It had not yet happened, but she knew he intended to replace them all again soon—though not Abigail if she had anything to do with it. It was as though he intended everything in his life to be transient. Impermanent.

A wife was, by nature, none of those things.

Perhaps he wanted to keep his distance out of principle?

Well, she would not stand for it.

“I would like him to fall in love with me,” Eleanor whispered.

“Of course you would! I would like a man such as that to fall in love with me, too. Just imagine the way he would look on his horse riding to save me…” Olivia sighed dramatically. “And vowing his undying love. He has a handsome enough face to pull that off, you know, which is more than can be said for most gentlemen, and while I will confess he is not the most loquacious, I suppose he is pleasant enough when he does open his mouth, and really, what more could a lady want? A handsome husband who is not unpleasant, and who adores her?” She looked at Eleanor. “Are you listening to me?”

Eleanor was not, in fact, listening. She was staring ahead of her, down the long, wide path they promenaded down, to where her own knight in shining armor approached on a big black horse, somehow more handsome than she could remember him being.

Perhaps the events of the carriage had warmed her to him more than she had thought. Or maybe it was what had occurred between them that morning when he pinned her against the table and said one thing with his mouth while his eyes said quite another.

She had known then she could never give up.

“I think,” she said, a trifle breathlessly, “you have summoned him.”

Olivia glanced around before spotting him. “Oh, you sly thing. I had no notion you knew he would be here. Is that why you were so amenable to us walking together?”

“No, I had no idea that he would be riding here.”

“You should see him,” Olivia urged, tugging at her arm. “Speak with him. Flirt with him.”

“But I don’t know how to flirt,” Eleanor protested as Olivia dragged her closer. “I am not a natural-born flirt. I would rather do nice things for him and bring him around to my presence that way.”

“That will never work! Gentlemen like the Duke are immune to nice gestures. He would live in the same house as you for a thousand years and never notice a single thing you did for him, except to find something wrong with it. But he will notice you flirting. Just think how he reacted when he saw you dancing with another gentleman. Go, go .”

Eleanor stumbled forward, but before she reached Sebastian’s side, another gentleman came out from nowhere, a wide smile on his face.

“Sebastian, old friend,” said Luke, the man from her wedding breakfast. “I had not thought to see you out riding. What are you doing here?”

“I,” he said, his voice crisp, “am avoiding my wife. The question is, what are you doing here?”