Trapped with the Forbidden Duke (Forbidden Lords #5)

Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

“ S eems like the Earl cannot join us once again,” Lucien noted, looking around the dining room that evening.

So many plans were in motion, and with each stone he laid down for the wall he was building around the Montgomeries, he was growing happier with himself.

“Nicholas has fallen ill,” Lady Isabel explained, smiling politely. “Perhaps it is serendipitous, too, given the spat between you both.”

Lucien forced a smile as he tucked into the main course. He was trying to focus on the expensive food and the rich wine, and not how well Lady Edwina looked, outfitted in a new gown of deep emerald green.

He could not help but notice how her green dress brought out the blue of her eyes, how her gaze remained lowered, a furrow in her delicate brow.

Her long hair, so dark in the candlelight that it looked almost black, was pulled prettily back from her face. Despite the harshness of the style, it made her look regal. Elegant in an unreachable way, nothing like the skittish woman he had met in the private room at the Raven’s Den.

Lucien found himself rather attracted to both versions.

“Spat or not, he should be there for his family,” Lucien answered, realizing that Isabel was waiting for a response. “Forgive me if I am being too forward, but I believe in honor and duty when it comes to family. Through thick and thin.”

“What an admirable principle,” Lady Isabel praised, leaning further towards him.

He realized she was looking at him like a woman who had a daughter of her own and was seeking to pair her with him. He gave a stiff smile.

“Tell me, Your Grace, why have you decided to help us? Your connection to our family rested on your friendship with my nephew. Yet, even though your friendship turned sour, you have come to our aid.”

Lucien’s attention turned to Lady Edwina once more. He tried to push back the memory of their kiss, of how she had assumed the role of a seductress. The way she gave back quite as much as he gave her.

“Well,” he began, clearing his throat. He despised questions about himself. “I do not give up on people, even if they walk away from me. I raised myself better.”

“Yourself?” Lady Isabel echoed, her eyes bright. “You had no mother or father?”

“As many do not,” Lucien answered smoothly, smiling tightly. He brushed it off, not wishing to dwell on his upbringing. “Regardless, I enjoy using my influence to help. Contrary to common belief, I do not do it for control over people but for the satisfaction of helping those who need it.”

“ Most charitable.” The older woman giggled. “I have always said that charitable men are the backbone of society, have I not, Edwina?”

“Aunt Isabel, I believe that your true words were that a man who enjoys a good glass of wine is the backbone,” Lady Edwina quipped, shooting Lucien a smirk.

He wanted to chase it with his mouth. He clenched his hand around the stem of his glass.

“Ah, yes, I did say that.” Lady Isabel shook her head, a lazy smile on her face. “Oh, that does remind me of Lord Finnick. He was the German cousin of some baron, so I did not mingle with him, save for one night. And oh, Heavens, did he know how to handle his wine.” She raised her eyebrows. “He rather knew how to handle women, too, if you understand?—”

“I am sure His Grace understands well enough,” Lady Edwina said, cutting her off. Lucien watched, amused. “Aunt Isabel, we do not need to listen to stories of your romantic adventures.”

“So I am to be an old spinster with no youthful spirit to look back on fondly?” Lady Isabel pursed her lips, unimpressed. “A lady should not always be a prude, though we all know that my sister-in-law believed otherwise, God rest her soul.” Her older, mirthful gaze met Lucien’s. “You should have met the Countess of Montgomery. Oh, she was a formidable lady.”

“I am sure my mother would have been overjoyed,” Lady Edwina muttered, rolling her eyes. “The Duke of Stormhold in her house. A very wonderful feat, I imagine. How come you never met my parents?”

“I did, from afar,” Lucien answered, recalling the former Earl and Countess of Montgomery. “Nicholas and I became friends in Cambridge. It was me, him, and the Marquess of Tulley. So, when Nicholas left for the war after we finished university, I had little reason to formally meet your family. I knew about you, for he spoke in great lengths about you.”

He rather enjoyed the blush that spread across her face.

“Oh, when they were younger, Nicholas was always singing Edwina’s praises,” Lady Isabel sighed. “I do not know why he no longer does—it is such a shame. But I miss the sound of their laughter together.”

Lucien’s eyes settled on Lady Edwina, on how she seemed to shrink at the comment. He finally saw through the panic that he’d seen so often during their search for Nicholas and glimpsed the woman who missed her brother. She must be longing to have whatever she had lost with him.

Yet, all he could think about was how, even with her sad eyes and the pinched corners of her mouth, she looked beautiful.

He wanted to kiss her name onto her skin. He wanted to make her come alive with confidence beneath his guidance and hands.

His desire caught him off guard, so much so that he coughed as he tried to chase away his lustful thoughts.

It is simply the dress . I have never been so enthralled by a woman when she wears a fine gown as opposed to a simple one. I am not so ruffled. So it must be the dress.

“How so?” Lucien asked, dragging his attention away from Lady Edwina, secretly pleased with the deeper blush that spread across her cheeks. “I am most intrigued.”

“One time, the former Earl hosted a ball for Edwina’s tenth birthday, and oh, young Edwina stayed put long enough to be dressed and styled for the occasion, but as soon as everyone’s back was turned, she fled into the garden. When she was announced in the ballroom, was young Edwina there?”

Lady Isabel laughed loud enough that Lucien wondered how Nicholas hadn’t woken up.

“No, she was not! The whole room was in a flurry, searching for her. Her brother found her tangled in a tree.”

“A tree?” Lucien asked.

“A large oak that she used to play around. Except Nicholas had told her that she would not be able to climb it and be back in time for the ball. Edwina was stubborn, of course. But she did not climb down well enough. Poor girl was discovered by half the party with twigs and leaves in her hair. Her mother went white as a sheet.”

“I am sure His Grace does not need to know about my childish whims,” Lady Edwina muttered. “That was a decade ago, Aunt Isabel.”

“These are cherished memories, dear girl.” Lady Isabel waved her off impatiently. “As was the time you entered the wrong room at Lady Hatterly’s afternoon tea, thinking you were already a lady of the ton at the tender age of five-and-ten.” She chortled to herself. “The little embarrassed apples of your cheeks were rather endearing.”

“I believe your wine has proven to be too rich, Your Grace,” Lady Edwina muttered. “My aunt is rather inebriated. Do forgive her.”

“She spins fine stories,” Lucien countered, eager to hear more—to know how a childhood like that had shaped the woman she had become. “And the wine was merely picked to match the lady of the household.”

His eyes lingered on her, dragging across her features as if he might map her out that way.

Lady Isabel was still so preoccupied with muttering to herself and digging into her meal that she did not notice how the Duke spoke with her niece.

“You flatter me greatly,” Lady Edwina murmured, taking a sip of her wine.

A droplet stained her lower lip a deep red, and something twisted in Lucien’s stomach, a roar of desire for a brief, sparking moment. And when her tongue swiped it, he wished it was his own.

“I do not flatter you enough,” he told her, emboldened.

It is the dress . It is the wine.

Neither the dress nor the wine had prompted him to kiss her several days ago, and he did not know how much longer he could hold out in Montgomery Manor, telling himself foolish excuses as to why he sought her out over and over.

“Oh! That’s it!” Lady Isabel cried, startling them both and drawing their gazes to her. “Edwina, do you recall that dreadful dinner at the Simmons’ residence? It was quite a disaster, Your Grace. Edwina was soon to debut—perhaps seventeen or so. I accompanied her along with the former Earl. Anyway, there was a young lord—what was his name, Edwina?”

Lady Edwina’s eyes narrowed. “I do not recall.”

“I am sure you do.” Lady Isabel’s voice was vibrating with excitement. “Lord… Lord Ciaran, was it not?”

“It was not,” Lady Edwina answered tightly, her cheeks flushed as she looked away from her aunt.

“No, it indeed was. You were so busy looking at him that you missed your mouth while helping yourself to your soup! Oh, you had so many mishaps. And now, here you are. Heavens, were it not for His Grace, this house would have been a shambles of twigs and leaves, as you were!”

Lady Isabel laughed to herself, shaking her head. The poor woman was red in the face from her own amusement.

“I am sure next time we may tell him some embarrassing stories about Nicholas,” Lady Edwina offered, smiling a little. “After all, I am merely the sister and daughter of earls. I am sure his stories will be much more entertaining.”

“Nonsense!” Lady Isabel scoffed. “What is an aunt for, if not to embarrass her niece in front of the ton’s most eligible, dashing bachelor?”

“I am not?—”

Lucien was cut off by an inquisitive stare from the older woman. He cleared his throat and drank his wine.

A duke he was, but he knew when not to cross a woman well-versed in the ton’s ways, an older woman who had played the game in her youth and would wonder why he did not wish to play.

“What sort of duke does not wish to share his fortune with a beautiful woman?”

Lucien’s gaze slid back to Lady Edwina before returning to Lady Isabel. “I am fine with sharing my fortune by supporting other causes.”

“Noble,” Lady Isabel muttered. “However, if you have no mother, then I shall be the voice of one for now. You must marry. I am a woman alone in a good house, not a large house, so allow me to impart some wisdom, for there are things I missed out on in life. Marry well, yes, but before marriage, there are celebrations—balls. What sort of joy can be found if those celebrations are not shared with your intended? Do not separate the two, Your Grace, or you shall be like me. I look back on those years fondly and then realize that I am indeed a foolish, old spinster whose true soulmate has always been chocolate treats.”

Lucien paused, unsure if she was entirely serious or if she was teasing him. He was not in the habit of being told what to do, and yet he did not rebuke Lady Isabel for it. Perhaps it was because he’d never had a mother to tell him similar things. Perhaps he liked her advice, even if marriage was a faraway thing, something he did not enjoy thinking of.

“And you too, Edwina. We might be considered the poorest family of the nobility, but that does not excuse your lack of a husband. If anything, I imagine it would solve a great deal of issues. I am sure with word of His Grace’s extensive generosity, you will become very sought-after, indeed.”

Lucien saw the way Lady Edwina’s eyes dropped to her plate, how she gave her aunt a forced, tight smile but said nothing. The thought of another man putting his hands on her sent a hot bolt of anger through him.

It is because of how that man spoke about her at the brothel . You know the ton and the men who hunt for unmarried ladies having had failed Seasons. That is all it is. It is not because the man who touches her will not be you .

Lucien drained his wine glass and ate his dinner to distract himself, and he pretended as though he believed his thoughts.

Edwina entered her brother’s room hours past dinner time, lingering in the doorway. He had not come down to join them, not even once, and she had been certain that she would find him gone again.

But he lay in his bed, his face slack in slumber, more relaxed than she had seen it in some time. Without rage, paranoia, or mania on his face, she could almost pretend that his addiction had not taken away the Nicholas she once knew.

Sighing, Edwina left, content that he was in deep sleep. She would not be the one to wake him, not if this rest granted him some peace.

Retiring to the parlor, she kept herself busy with thoughts of the Duke and how he had spoken throughout dinner.

It surprised her that he knew how others thought of him, and then felt foolish for being surprised. He did not have to be a gossip to know the gossip circulating about himself, to know that the ton whispered about his control and lack of generosity.

And then there was his lingering gaze on her. It had been more than she could bear. Leaving the dining room afterward had been both a respite and a terrible thing.

She craved his presence yet feared it. Feared what it did to her.

“I do not flatter you enough,” she murmured to herself, recalling his quiet declaration.

Picking up the glass of wine she had poured before she checked on Nicholas, Edwina smiled to herself as she settled into one of the settees in front of the empty, cold fireplace.

Above it was a beautiful cream wallpaper with golden accents running through it, forming a floral shape. Elegant, decorative, unassuming, yet expensive. It was part of the renovation, which she still had not wrapped her head around.

She was not even certain if her brother was aware of it, if he had bothered to take any notice during his fleeting moments of sobriety.

Edwina turned and found a book on the small table next to her. She peered at it, surprised to find the poetry book she had been reading before the Duke of Stormhold’s arrival. It had kept her mind occupied during her brother’s many disappearances.

With her aunt in bed and her brother asleep, she picked it up, finding solace in the words once again.

Soon, her thoughts swam with verses and themes, romantic poems, and words that spiraled beautifully through her. It was only when she heard a quiet scuff of boots from the doorway that she turned around.

Her smile fell when she saw it was the Duke and not her brother.

The Duke regarded her. “I assume you were not expecting me.”

“I thought you were Nicholas,” she admitted. “I hoped he would finally come down and talk to me, even for a moment.”

A flicker of annoyance crossed the Duke’s face, as it did every time he was told about or reminded of Nicholas’s behavior.

“Apologies for disappointing you, My Lady,” he offered, rather sarcastically. “I just came back from a business meeting and saw the candle burning in here.”

“Came back?” Edwina echoed. “I had not realized you left.”

“I am glad my presence here is noticeable.” His tone was dry, yet his smile was amused as he entered. “Nonetheless, I will join you. It is a sad sight to witness a lady in a fine dress drinking wine alone.”

“You may join me,” she corrected, frowning. “What if I wished to be alone? Plenty of people wish for such a thing, you know.”

The Duke settled into an armchair across from her. “I know well enough.”

She had a fleeting thought, reminding herself of her aunt’s mention of the Duke having no parents. Did he live alone? Where was the rest of his family?

She wondered, but she kept her questions to herself. She did not wish to be like her aunt, intrusive and nosy.

“Let me send for a drink for you,” Edwina said, rising, but the Duke shook his head.

“I am perfectly fine just to be here.”

Slowly, she lowered herself onto the settee. “How was your meeting? I am not asking for details, for I know how men feel about ladies sticking their noses in their business. But I trust it went well.”

“It went… as one can imagine. Lord Herrington has tested my patience enough times, and now he is surprised when it has worn thin. It is safe to say that our paths will never cross again where business is concerned, despite how much he wishes otherwise.”

Edwina thought of Lord Stockton. He had wanted to do business with the Duke, yet he had made it sound so impossible that she had needed to distract him.

Her thoughts turned to Diana’s claims about the Duke, heard from Lord Herrington himself.

Although the Duke was watching her, she kept that to herself. Instead, she said, “That sounds well. I do hope nobody got hurt.”

At that, the Duke only shook his head.

“Nicholas is still sleeping. Thankfully. I could not bear to see him in more anguish and pain.”

“Why are you not doing the same?” the Duke pressed, surprising her.

She frowned. “I cannot sleep while I know he could escape through the window at any moment. There might be a time when he does not come back at all.”

She bit her lip, worrying herself silly, as she had done ever since her brother’s return from the war.

“Do you think that is a possibility?”

“I do not know,” she admitted. “I only fear it and desperately hope it is not.”

Silence fell over the parlor for a few moments before the Duke smiled, looking at a spot on the floor.

“I have a cousin named Allan. He’s around four-and-twenty now, but when we were younger, I was seventeen to his eleven, and I dared him to swing from an old rope swing. We found it in the depths of Stormhold Hall—in the countryside. I knew the boy was easily influenced, and I could not help myself.

“I told Allan to swing from it, to see how far he could go. I knew all along that I would not do the same, for the old thing looked far from sturdy; the rope too frayed, and the branch it hung from too rotten. Yet, I still dared him, and he, only eleven and likely thinking of impressing his older cousin—or simply thinking he would have fun—agreed. So off we went to the woods and found the old swing.

“‘ I’ll give you the first push, and then you must swing as high as you can on your own ,’ I remember telling him. He was all too eager to get on. I recall how the wet seat of the swing stained his breeches. But he did not care. So I pushed the swing once, and Allan cheered all the way. He cheered as he swung over the thick greenery, unkempt and depthless, and then began to swing himself. His cheers drowned out the creaking of the rope. But I heard it. I heard his scream, as well, as the rope snapped, and he fell into the underbrush, disappearing entirely in the foliage. The sound of his body hitting the ground was quite horrific.

“I remember thinking that if I did not die out of terror, then my aunt would surely have me buried for causing harm to her son. After all, she tried to keep us apart. So, when I told her that Allan had gotten hurt and it had been my fault, she was furious. I did not hear the end of it for days.”

“And your cousin?” Edwina pressed, surprised by his honesty.

Perhaps it was because he empathized with her embarrassment at dinner, but she saw a soft, tender flicker in his eyes as he recounted his story.

“He broke his arm,” he answered, as if it was quite all right. “Bruised a rib or two. But… Do you know what Allan said when the physicians led him away?”

“What?”

“He asked when we might do it again, and if we could build our own rope swing.”

At that, he let out a short laugh, shaking his head.

“It is a story we both tell even now, at parties. Although, admittedly, my home has not seen many parties in recent years. Allan is rather fond of them, though. He tells the story differently. He speaks of a cunning future duke who seeks the death of a cousin who might threaten his claim to the dukedom. It is not true, of course, but he is awfully dramatic when he reenacts it. He portrays me as some hideous, conniving creature.”

“I should like to see it if you would take me,” Edwina said without thinking, and then she quickly recovered. “Not that I believe I will be fortunate to attend such a party.”

“I would be honored to take you to a party, Lady Edwina.” The Duke did not pause long enough for her to respond. “You could meet my other cousin, Rose. She is nine-and-ten, and I do fear she is following your aunt’s path. She would put her gossiping and storytelling to shame. I think you would like her.”

Edwina smiled, drinking her wine as she observed him quietly. Did he know that a brightness entered his eyes when he spoke about his cousins?

“I am sure we will be acquainted one day,” she said.

“If your brother remembers his duties properly, then I am sure you will receive many more invitations to events where there will be an opportunity to do so.”

Edwina scowled. “Must you find every opportunity to put down my brother?”

“Yes,” the Duke said simply. “Because it appears that his behavior and disappearances have gone unchecked for too long. Somebody ought to remind this household that their master is not doing as he should.”

“He is doing his best with what he has,” Edwina snapped.

“Lady Edwina, many men go through terrible things. War, trauma, death. An honorable man will look around himself and realize that while loss is painful, there are other things in his life that he must focus on.”

“I am sorry that my brother could not afford such a luxury while recovering from a terrible injury, only to immediately inherit an earldom. I cannot fathom the pressure.”

“It is not a luxury—it is simply what must be done. You cannot fathom the pressure, no, but your protecting him from himself also stops him from performing his duties. Soon enough, he must protect you .”

“I do not understand you,” Edwina hissed, standing up. The wine was suddenly too bitter on her tongue. “You help us, you help Nicholas, you make him your partner so that he receives income, and yet you bash him at every chance. Perhaps my aunt was right to question your motives.”

“Do not leave,” the Duke sighed.

Edwina half turned to him, finding him already rising to his feet. “This is my house. I am entitled to go where I please—or do you feel that because you have financially helped us, you may command me?”

“Lady Edwina.” His voice dropped as he stood up and stalked over to her. His eyes flashed with anger. “If I wished to truly command you, then you would already be at my mercy.”

Heat surged through Edwina, her lips parting in both fear and intrigue. The Duke’s eyes burned through her very skin as he looked her up and down.

It was not the assessing, sleazy gaze of other men she had endured previously, but the gaze of a man who desired her.

“I offered my help because a lady should never have to debase herself in any way. Especially not in the way your brother’s actions forced you to the night we met,” he answered roughly.

“I am harsh on Nicholas because I know the man he can be. The man he was , the man who would never make his sister worry or put her in danger. I offer my help because, until he gets back to that place—until he frees himself of whatever it is that grips him—I wish to protect you.”

“Why?”

“You damn well know why,” he growled.

Edwina barely had a moment to wonder what he meant, for he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her flush against him.

His mouth was on hers, immediately stealing her breath away. The Duke made a low noise in the back of his throat as he pulled her to him. His mouth moved against hers, hard and insistent, and she was melting into him as they stumbled back to the armchair he had just vacated.

His tongue prodded her own, and she opened her mouth willingly, heat surging through her. She gasped between kisses as his hands clamped around her hips, thumbing over her dress, hitching the fabric higher over her thighs.

“We should not,” Edwina gasped when he kissed the corner of her mouth and ventured lower, to the curve of her neck.

“I crave you, Lady Edwina,” the Duke confessed, lifting his head to meet her gaze.

His pupils were dilated, and Edwina could not help but lift her fingers and slide them through his still-neat auburn strands. She was shy as she ran her hand through his hair, his eyes fixed on her.

He took her wrist, pulled her hand from his hair, and pressed a kiss to her palm. A pressure built between Edwina’s thighs, and for a terribly hot moment, she wondered how it would feel to have his mouth trail lower and kiss every inch of her.

The Duke’s eyes flicked down to where her dress bunched over their laps, inappropriate and entirely too revealing, even without showing anything directly. The hand he had kept on her hip slid over her gown, tugging it higher.

Her breath hitched, and she realized how she ached for this, even though she did not know the full extent of this .

Nerves sparked through her, and, as if the Duke had noticed, he took her chin between his fingers and brought her mouth back to his.

“I am not a begging man,” he murmured, his lips brushing hers, “but I would gladly beg for many more of these kisses.”

Edwina’s head was spinning. She was lost to the heat, the desire, and the strange intimacy of kissing. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she pressed closer to the Duke, feeling herself being lifted. When her dress fell back to her feet, the Duke had an arm around her waist, and she arched back to tilt her face up to his.

She was so lost in the kiss, in the sweet taste of his tongue, basking in something that felt secretive, selfish, and utterly indulgent, that she did not hear the door to the parlor slam open.

“Get your hands off her!”

Edwina pulled away from the Duke sharply, her lips parting in shock at the sight of her brother standing in the doorway.

Her brother, who barely looked able to keep himself upright, was flushed with anger, and the brunt of it was aimed at the Duke.

Edwina took another step away from the Duke and towards her brother. “Nicholas?—”

“Do not defend him,” her brother snarled. “He has dishonored you, yet he speaks to me about my honor.”

Edwina was caught between the two men, who were both staring one another down.

“Nicholas.” The Duke’s voice was quiet and calm, trying to appease the Earl. “It is nothing to get angry about?—”

“I let you into my home when I would much rather have sent you packing back to your lavish townhouse, or perhaps the countryside estate you just love to hide away in. In fact, yes, go there, for it might be far enough from me.”

“Nicholas, please,” Edwina cried out. “His Grace is helping us.”

“I can see exactly what he is helping himself to.” Her brother turned his glare on her and then sneered at her. “Are you letting him, Edwina? Because if he is forcing himself on you?—”

“Do not dare suggest such a thing!” the Duke shouted, his temper flaring. “I am not such filth.”

The glare Nicholas gave them both was utterly scathing. He staggered into the room but paused after taking two steps.

“I have had enough of your presence here, Lucien. You have changed everything. You have run this household as though it was your own, so you may parade around like a hero, only to then set your sights on my sister.”

“Brother, you are making too great of a deal out of this!” Edwina insisted angrily. “Nothing has happened?—”

“I did say you were conspiring against me,” Nicholas snapped. “You have betrayed me, Edwina. You have betrayed the years I have spent without my so-called best friend. I thought we had always fought for one another.”

“From where I am standing, it seems as though you have left her to fight for herself,” the Duke countered. “Is it your guilt that feeds your accusations, Nicholas?”

“How dare you!” Nicholas roared.

With whatever strength he had—which seemed to be waning—he launched himself at the Duke.

“No!” Edwina cried out.

The two men knocked over the table where she had put her wine glass. The glass smashed, and for a moment, it was not hard to believe that the wine stain was blood, that one of them had gotten hurt.

Edwina cried out, rushing to them when Nicholas punched the Duke. The strength of a war-hardened man should have been enough to give him the upper hand, but she knew that laudanum had weakened him so much.

“Please, Nick, stop this!” she cried again, but her protest landed on deaf ears.

In a moment, the Duke had Nicholas overpowered and flat on his back.

“Enough. Stop right this second, you—” the Duke barked, but he clamped his mouth shut when a subtle yet unmistakable sound rang out.

Crack .

Edwina froze.

The sound of cracking glass seemed to reverberate through the room, and her heart stopped when she realized what it was.

“Nicholas,” the Duke asked quietly, “what is in your pocket?”

No . No, he cannot find out.

“I am sure it was nothing,” Edwina interjected hurriedly, panicked. “Nicholas, come. Let us get you to bed?—”

“Turn out your pockets, Nicholas, or I shall do it myself.”

Nicholas glared at the Duke, silently stubborn.

“Fine,” the Duke growled and shoved a hand into his pocket.

And took out shards of what Edwina knew was a dark bottle of laudanum.