Trapped with the Forbidden Duke (Forbidden Lords #5)

Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

C andlelight flickered in Lucien’s bedroom as he sat in his armchair, attempting to think over everything that had happened in the last several days.

But his head hurt, and his eyes were dry with fatigue, and he could finally admit that all he wished to do was rest. After evenings of searching for Nicholas and nights haunted by Edwina, only to marry her to save her family from utter ruin, he was exhausted.

Until a knock drew his attention.

He turned, sipping the last of the whisky he had poured himself while being told that his wife was settling in her rooms.

“Yes?” he called, realizing that the knock came not from the main door to his chambers but the one that connected his bedchambers to the Duchess’s.

Edwina’s bedchambers.

Edwina pushed open the door, and he prepared himself to soothe any worries she had upon leaving her family home—only to find her wearing a thin robe, fastened tightly, covering up the body that his hands had already half mapped out. And itched to do it again.

She paused in the doorway, her gaze sweeping over his room, before she breathed in deeply and entered his room fully. She closed the door behind her with her hip, and his eyes followed the delicious sway of her body.

Lucien cleared his tight throat and asked, “Yes, Duchess? Is anything the matter with your chambers?”

“No,” she answered, her voice sweet and low. “Not at all. My chambers are perfectly in order.”

“I see.” He cocked his head, giving her a slow once-over. “Then why are you in mine?”

“Ah…” she trailed off. “Only to… get my bearings, of course.”

Edwina’s eyes were heavy-lidded, and she pushed away from her spot to approach him.

She tapped his empty glass. “Another? I think I may pour myself one if you do not mind.”

“Do you wish me to serve you?”

The words carried another meaning that he had not intended, Lucien realized.

Edwina froze before a smile spread across her face—one he had not seen since their first meeting in that private room at the Raven’s Den.

The faux seduction. Or, rather, not faux, but forced because it did not come easy. At least not when it was overshadowed by nerves, as he suspected.

“Let me serve you, husband,” Edwina told him, her voice a low purr, but there was also a tremor in it.

As they had that day, her hands trembled as she poured them each a glass. He made to lift his glass in a salute, only to find that she had already gulped down most of her drink.

Lucien steadily sipped his whisky when she stepped away, her fingers falling to the loose tie of her robe.

His eyes widened. This close, he could see the way her body shook. A small, almost indiscernible tremor, but he had long learned to read people.

Still, her robe slid off her shoulders, baring arms that he had already skimmed his fingertips over. Her thighs, hidden by a gown that was so thin that she may as well have worn nothing beneath her robe, grazed the almost transparent fabric. The dusky nipples he could see made his head spin.

Heavens .

Edwina stepped closer to the table he’d been sitting at and set her glass down, leaning over him unnecessarily. He looked up at her, and a low heat flared in his stomach at how, from this angle, her curves and her breasts were heavier, and all he craved was to touch her.

She is beautiful .

It was all he could think about, and as much as he ached to pull her onto his lap, to indulge in even just one small part of her, to know how her skin might taste with how heavenly she smelled, he restrained himself.

“Stop,” he ordered, his voice rough and quiet in the night.

Edwina’s reaction was immediate. She froze for a moment before drawing back.

“Stop? Why? Is the angle not to your liking? Will it please you more if I do something diff?—”

Lucien shook his head. “Go back to your room, Duchess.”

She drew back, her fists curled against her chest, which rose and fell heavily with nervous breaths. Nervous, embarrassed breaths, he realized, for he could see the blush staining her cheeks.

“Why?” she asked again, her voice weaker this time.

Because I can see that you do not want it. And as much as I want you, I will not take my wife out of misplaced duty .

He did not tell her that, only turned away, his jaw tight as he tried to regain his composure.

He only needed to make her leave quickly.

“Just go, Duchess,” he reiterated, this time a little more sharply than before.

Edwina exhaled, snatched her robe up from where it had fallen to the floor, and walked back to her room.

He ought to call her back, to clear his head of lust and speak with her, but he wanted his wife to want him when he took her to bed. He wanted her fists clenched in his sheets from desire, not trepidation or anxiety. He wished to lavish comfort and praise upon her when she was ready.

By the time Edwina had left his room, all that remained of their encounter was the heavenly scent of jasmine and rose. He clenched his fist in an effort to control himself as the scent teased his senses. How he wished to lick her, to see if she tasted as sweet as she smelled.

Leaving their glasses on the table, Lucien retreated to bed, and since he was riled up, it was some time before sleep found him.

Edwina’s chest still burned with the shame of her fumble from the night before even as she was shown to the breakfast room.

She had requested to eat alone, for she had not wanted to risk seeing Lucien, not when she was so embarrassed. Yet, after sharing several meals with him and her aunt at Montgomery Manor, dining alone was a strange experience.

There was no chattering from her aunt, as she had grown used to during her visit, and there was a phantom anxiety she had once felt as she had worried about her brother’s condition that day.

Her thoughts strayed to Nicholas.

Where was he now? How was he faring? Dread coiled in her stomach as she assumed the worst. What if he had fallen back into old habits the moment she was gone?

No . I must have more trust in him.

“Have I received any missives?” Edwina asked Mrs. Galley once she had finished her breakfast. The older woman was leading her down the main corridor, embarking on a tour of the estate. “My brother is due to write to me upon arriving at his retreat.”

“There is nothing for you just yet, Your Grace, but as soon as it arrives, you shall be informed promptly.”

“And it will not go to His Grace?” Edwina asked, dreading the thought of having to confer with her husband about anything.

“If it is addressed to you, then Mr. Hamilton shall deliver it to you.” Mrs. Galley gave Edwina a patient smile. “Now, this is your parlor. Further along, we have the drawing room, and beyond that, the library. Do you read?”

“Oh, very much. I should like to see the library.”

“Very well.”

The housekeeper took her past a pale, open drawing room where the sunlight poured through the windows in a way it never quite had in Montgomery Manor. Perhaps it was because the rolling hills of the countryside surrounded Stormhold Hall, allowing for more light and space.

They soon stepped into the library, a magnificent space of more than one level, with curved staircases leading to balconied areas and rows upon rows of bookshelves.

Above their heads was a large mural of two people reaching out for one another across a great expanse of calm ocean.

It stole Edwina’s breath. She would spend hours upon hours in there, she knew.

“It is beautiful,” she breathed in awe. “I might have to end our tour here and call for tea if you do not mind.”

Mrs. Galley nodded. “As you wish, Your Grace. His Grace has declared that you are free to do as you please.”

“I am sure there are duties I must begin learning about.”

“In due time, of course. For now, His Grace has only requested that you get settled in whatever way you please. If that means staying in here, then we may continue our tour later today.”

“That is rather generous, but I would very much like to get acquainted with my new home.”

It was strange to think of it as that—her new home. Edwina tried not to focus too greatly on how, even from a distance, the Duke was taking care of her. He knew the strain she had been under because of her brother, and now he was ensuring that she knew it was time to think about herself. Yet, she could not switch off her mind from responsibility quite so easily.

Mrs. Galley continued leading her through the house. Every time Edwina thought they had finished the tour, there was another room, another garden entrance, another hallway.

By the time they had finished, Edwina was quite exhausted.

She had barely slept the night before, her body heavy from the sting of Lucien’s rejection, and now all she wished to do was return to the library and have some tea.

“Can you tell me about Stormhold itself?” she asked as Mrs. Galley showed her back to the library, for she did not trust herself not to get lost.

“Of course. I have lived just outside it my whole life, as my mother has always worked for the Fitzgeralds. Stormhold is quite a large village, compared to many. There is Green Bank Woods to the right of the village, and the cliffs of Stormhold to the left. Within the village itself, there are some lovely shops. A jeweler, a blacksmith, a bakery—one I believe His Grace is rather fond of, for he frequents it when he is staying here—and several other businesses. There is also a modiste. She is nothing like the ones you are accustomed to in London, but she makes beautiful garments. She produced a great deal for the former Duchess.”

Edwina thought of her wardrobe, meager for a long time, and only recently updated thanks to Lucien’s generosity. “I would love to see some of those gowns.”

“I’ll arrange a time for you to see them, Your Grace. In the meantime, His Grace has requested that you be given a horse, and use of the ducal carriage, to go wherever you please. All he requests is that he is made aware of your whereabouts.”

Edwina bit back a retort. Her husband could have told her that himself had he not outright rejected her the night before.

Bidding the housekeeper goodbye after conveying her gratitude, she retreated into the library, but not before a flash of auburn hair caught her eye.

She turned, seeing Lucien striding down the hallway towards her, but as soon as his eyes locked onto hers, he stopped.

Stop .

She heard his command in her head, and her face burned. Her chest tightened, humiliation creeping back up.

He cleared his throat, looking as though he was searching for something. His lips moving as he muttered to himself, he turned on his heel and walked into another room.

As soon as Edwina entered the library, hoping to avoid him, she heard him walk past the doorway.

She looked at him, and he at her, before he turned his head away sharply, as though pretending he had not been looking for her as he passed.

For a moment, she watched as he disappeared down the hallway, before she busied herself.

His rejection had been enough; she did not need to wait around for more. Instead, she turned to face the expanse of books before her, a world of words at her fingertips.

A giddy rush overtook her lingering embarrassment. Moments later, tea was served, and Edwina finally settled in an armchair, a book open in her lap.

“I do not care how much it is,” Lucien sighed, his voice tight with irritation. His patience was wearing thin. “Just assure me that they are all paid off.”

“I am trying, Your Grace, but the Earl of Montgomery owes a great deal to many creditors. Some are officially registered, others not.”

“You have people who can investigate,” Lucien all but snarled. “I pay you to arrange those investigations, so I can walk away from this ordeal knowing that the Earl’s money is fully his going forward. I need to know if he has other outstanding debts.”

His solicitor, a tall, wiry man who usually was very efficient, was testing his patience that day.

For the last couple of days, Lucien had barely slept. Something about the stillness of the countryside unsettled him. It disjointed him from his usual state.

“I will continue the search, Your Grace,” his solicitor said. “The Earl… well, he has been rather careful about the names of his less savory creditors.”

“Then interrogate every dealer, gambling den owner, and lowlife you can find, or I shall. And you will not receive further payment for handling such matters.”

“Your Gr?—”

“Stop.” The command was sharp, and Lucien pinched the bridge of his nose. “All I am asking is whether you can find out the creditors’ names and ensure that the Earl’s debts are paid off. Can you do that?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Keep me informed. You may leave.”

His solicitor gathered the papers and stood up to leave his study without another wasted moment.

Heavens, Lucien was tired of cleaning up Nicholas’s mess.

His offer to assist the family, to help them recover financially, was draining him. He had plenty of income streams; that was not the issue. But every time he felt as though he had finally handled the last of it, he discovered darker details about Nicholas’s debts and addiction.

Part of Lucien still could not believe that his friend had fallen prey to such a terrible thing and had never told him. He could not believe that Edwina, even in her own righteous, protective way, had not told him the whole truth. However, if laudanum had convinced Nicholas he was shunned by everybody, then it should not be surprising that he had not confided in him.

Leaning back in his chair, Lucien sighed heavily.

Over the last couple of days, he had been avoiding his wife, but he could hear her.

He heard her speaking with Mrs. Galley during the evening when she finished dining alone after he had already made a point to eat.

He heard her speaking with her lady’s maid as she was dressed for the day, since their rooms were connected.

He could not bring himself to look her in the eye, too embarrassed to do it. He had not felt such things before, but he had hurt her, rejected her, and he did not quite know how to weaken his defenses to admit his guilt over his lust while dealing with everything else.

They were conveniently married, that was all. He had told her she would only bear his children if she wished, and that she would not be forced into any predicament, and he meant it.

Still, he lusted for her. Desperately .

He had begun to chase the scent of jasmine, knowing when she had bathed, for the scent would linger in the hallway even if she was not there.

Lucien had, admittedly, taken to following her footsteps at a safe distance afterward, just to catch the scent.

He considered writing to Nicholas and asking him directly about his other creditors, but he knew the Earl’s pride would likely keep him from saying the whole truth. He already knew that his friend felt guilty and embarrassed that he was handling his mess. Nicholas would not be able to endure any further embarrassment.

Lucien stood up and stepped out of his study to follow the scent of jasmine once again. Edwina had passed by recently. Had she heard his discussion with his solicitor? She already knew he was handling their finances, but did she know the true depths her brother had sunk to so he could appease his addiction?

The scuff of slippers caught his attention.

“Edwina?” he called out.

Nobody answered him, but he saw her skirts disappear through a doorway ahead. He did not follow her.

He stayed where he was, closing his eyes as he imagined himself dragging his nose along her neck, tasting the jasmine and rose on her skin.