Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
E dwina let Lucien take her more than twice that night—and then again at breakfast the following day.
“Out,” Lucien growled at the servants. All of them scurried away, finding anywhere else to be, right as he fixed his eyes on her. “Here.” He pointed right at the edge of the breakfast table. “Now.”
Edwina had never moved so fast in her life, finding herself bent over as she had against the bed the night before when he had undressed her. Except now, he simply bunched up the skirts of her fine morning gown and slid his length into her. He’d freed himself only enough to free his length.
In her ear, he growled, “Try not to make a mess, dearest wife. I discovered last night that you are rather prone to doing such things.”
Edwina flushed hotly at the reminder of the gushing orgasm he had brought her to one time as he waited for himself to become fully aroused once more. He had assured her that his soft state had not been due to a lack of attraction to her, but rather his body could not recover as fast as hers could. And then he’d been on her, fingers curling, tongue delving, and she had fisted her hands in the sheets until something burst . She had been unable to stop her release from gushing out of her body, soaking the Duke’s face.
Now, as he thrust into her, groaning in her ear, his hands wandering beneath her skirt, she couldn’t stop thinking of how he had looked up at her after that had happened, the rough timbre of his voice as he asked if she was all right, and how the bed shook when he took her hard once more.
He had brought her to that height of pleasure so many times the night before, and Edwina still craved him too badly to sit through one meal without teasing him. Perhaps she should not have drunk the milk so tantalizingly straight from the small jug next to her now-forgotten teacup and not let the white drops collect on her tongue.
The silverware clattered as the table rocked beneath the force of his thrusts. Edwina clamped a hand over her mouth, only for Lucien to pull it away. He bent her down further, pinning her arms up and above her head. His hips pistoned, and she moaned for him, her body shaking violently as he brought her to a quick, intense climax.
Edwina let out a cry as her release mixed with his, and he pulled out, sinking back into his chair and pulling her with him. He clearly did not care for the fact that they might have to change clothes.
He pressed a kiss to her neck, smirking. “I could not resist. Although next time you wish to tease me with such obscenities resembling my seed, I shall simply empty myself in your mouth so you can have the real thing, if you are so desperate for it.”
Edwina only giggled, feeling giddy with pleasure and bliss, and slipped off his lap to return to her breakfast. No doubt the servants had heard her cries and the thud of furniture, but she cared little as she finished her food. Lucien’s eyes remained on her the whole time.
“Did you mean what you suggested a couple of days ago?” Edwina asked on another morning that week as she lay on her husband’s bed. “That you might let me…” she trailed off, embarrassment flooding through her.
Lucien, already bare and leaning over her, braced himself on his forearms as he brushed his fingertips over the inside of her elbow. It tickled, but she had grown to crave his touch on every part of her body.
“That I might let you suck my length?” he asked brazenly. “Yes. It is something I have thought greatly about.”
She was already reaching for the sheets to tug them away from his hips. The thinness of them did little to cover the fact that he wore nothing beneath. Despite his soft state, she could already feel the outline of him, but her hand was snatched away.
“As much as I would love nothing more than to have you on your knees, with those pretty blue eyes gazing up at me with that awe you show when I make you experience another wonder,” he began. “I must stop you. You invited my cousins over, and I only agreed because you got upset at the last ball—and I did promise that you’d meet Rose.”
“I am sure we can send them away.”
Edwina reached for him again, but he laughed quietly, catching her wrist in his hand once more. Instead, he pressed her into the mattress and kissed her lightly.
“When you are aching with want,” he said slowly, the knuckles of his free hand brushing her chest, trailing beyond her navel, caressing her hipbone, “and you can think only of the fullness from having me sheathed inside you, then I shall remind you that it was your decision to have company today. All because you are a stubborn, nosy duchess who would not mind her business when told to.”
“So take me now before they arrive,” Edwina breathed, already aching between her legs.
Lucien only nipped her neck, her collarbone, and the tip of her shoulder. “I think I shall make you wait, so you may learn a lesson.”
“And you?”
A slightly irritated look crossed his face. “I believe my frustration at having to face my cousins is enough to keep me limp. Although, I shall remind you that the moment I think of you, I shall be at full mast.”
“Then you may take me the moment they leave,” she whispered, pulling his face down to kiss him.
She purposefully deepened the kiss, her hips seeking and searching, trying to grind against his to see if she might arouse him.
But he only laughed, angling his hips away, and eventually pulled away from her. Edwina only kept the teasing smirk on her face.
“You are right,” she sighed. “I did invite them over, and I am a nosy, stubborn lady.”
“You are a duchess,” he corrected.
“ Your Duchess,” she emphasized. “As you told me to cry out only two nights ago. Did it make you feel good?”
At the reminder of that night, Lucien’s eyes darkened. “And I shall have you cry it out once again the next time I take you.”
Her mind lingered on the newest promise.
Every time they were intimate, he seemed to leave her with promises, as if reassuring her that there would always be a next time. It sent a thrill through her to know that he wanted to take her over and over.
“You seem happier, Your Grace.”
Lily was putting the final touches on Edwina’s hair—simple, pale green beading that matched Lucien’s eyes. Edwina had discreetly asked her lady’s maid to add some sort of matching element to every outfit she wore, a subtle hint about her marriage to Lucien to remind her that she had saved herself, that she had found her own life, and that it pleased her.
“I am,” she agreed. “Married life certainly seems to… agree with me.”
Lily smiled in return.
Edwina could only imagine the things the staff had heard, but she struggled to mind very much. Facing the mirror once more, she took in her lavender-colored gown. The square neckline, the silk skirt that fell around her ankles, and the textured bodice made her feel confident, good .
She needed it to meet with her husband’s family, especially when this meeting was so hard-won. She had used a few persuasive techniques, asked when his defenses were down, and when he realized what she was doing and how she wouldn’t relent, he had finally accepted.
And now she found herself oddly nervous. She already knew that she would not meet his mother or his father, but she had the sense that his uncle and aunt were just as important to him growing up—only to now find themselves estranged.
Edwina wished to understand why her husband shut down whenever they were mentioned.
“Edwina.” She looked over to find Lucien standing in the doorway, already taking in her gown with an appreciative, long look. “Hamilton has informed me that they are waiting in the drawing room.”
His face was tight, and she hurried to him, leaving her chambers on his arm.
“Do you dislike me for asking this of you?” she asked quietly as they made their way to the drawing room.
Lucien shook his head, but his jaw was tight. “As you once said, I meddled in your family’s affairs, so it was only fair that I allow you to meddle in mine for a brief time. Just… do not ask more of me. Not yet.”
“Very well.” She nodded as they rounded the doorway of the drawing room.
Edwina spotted Allan, who she was already familiar with, and a lady with hair almost the same color as Lucien’s, only slightly more copper.
“Your Grace.” Allan stood up and executed a bow. “Ah, Rose, see? Did I not tell you that she is a vision?”
“You did indeed, Brother.”
Rose’s face was young and kind, and Edwina searched for the resemblance between her husband and his fair-haired cousins.
“Your Grace.” Rose dropped into a curtsey. “It is an honor to finally meet you.”
“I was telling Her Grace how disappointed we were not to receive an invitation to the wedding,” Allan said delicately, his eyes flicking to Edwina’s left, to Lucien, but his words were directed at Rose.
“Oh, desperately disappointed.” Rose pouted. “The day my cousin got married was always set to be the biggest highlight of my social calendar.”
“When we were children, perhaps,” Lucien muttered stiffly.
At his voice, his cousins stood straighter. Rose curtsied slightly, and Allan even inclined his head, as if they ought to be formal with their own family.
“Cousins.”
“Lucien,” Rose murmured in greeting. “It is good to see you again.”
Lucien only hummed in response before Edwina stepped forward and gestured to the sofas in front of the fireplace. “Please sit. I shall call for some tea.”
At her side, Lucien had gone rigid as he watched his cousins take a seat. “Uncle Barnard has not come with you?”
“He felt it improper,” Rose explained quickly. “After all, this is about us meeting your wife. He did not want old wounds to reopen in his presence. But I believe he already explained his feelings regarding the matter.”
“He did,” Lucien scoffed. “I believe it was right after he requested my presence at his wife’s funeral.”
“Lucien.” Allan’s voice was quiet. “She was our mother.”
“Indeed, and she was not the kindest to you, either. There was a reason why I refused to pay my respects.”
Edwina looked between the three of them and requested tea from one of the maids posted around the room. She rushed off, leaving Edwina with very little else to do except try to change the topic.
“I have heard that you both live in a rather lovely townhouse in Mayfair,” Edwina said, raising her voice to break the tension in the room.
“Oh, yes!” Rose answered, her eyes lighting up, perhaps grateful for the rescue. “We live not far from Miss Giselle, the French modiste. She is ever so excellent, Your Grace! With a dress so fine as yours, you must have visited her.”
“Indeed!” Edwina confirmed. “In fact, my aunt and I visited Miss. Giselle’s many times. His Grace was kind enough to have us fitted for new gowns sewn by her just before our marriage.”
“That is truly generous,” Rose gushed, giggling. “I do hope I will find a husband one day who shall do the same for me.”
“Your brother does the same for you now,” Allan cut in, laughing. “Well, Father and me. You are very well equipped with gowns.”
“A lady can never have too many gowns, no?” Rose gave Edwina a conspiratorial grin. “It is truly fascinating the way she seems to know everyone’s particularities without ever seeming to consult her notes. For example, she knows that I favor pink and red in the spring, but will only wear blue and lavender in the winter. With the many clients she has, I do not know how she recalls so many things.”
Edwina laughed softly. “That is exactly why she is my aunt’s favorite modiste. That reminds me, I might buy her a gift before we visit her, Lucien.”
She turned to her husband just as the maid returned with tea, finding him staring past his cousins to the gardens outside, his jaw clenched.
What is going on in that head of yours?
But she was unable to ask just yet.
“Lucien?” she prompted quietly, but he just blinked and leaned forward to pour himself a cup of tea. He dropped two sugar lumps into it and stirred it.
“I see you still take a good dose of sugar,” Allan noted, chuckling as he prepared his tea the same way. “Ever since I watched you prepare it that way, I copied you. Now, I do not know if I truly enjoy it that way or if it’s a habit that I am too stubborn to change.”
“Too stubborn, most likely,” Lucien sighed, pouring Edwina a cup of tea as well. He met her gaze briefly before looking away.
“I do not enjoy sugary things in my tea,” she said delicately. “However, if somebody puts a tray of chocolates before me, then I, like my aunt, would see them gone in a moment.”
“A woman of good taste, it seems. Both you and your aunt. That is Lady Isabel Vaughan, correct?” Allan asked her.
Edwina nodded happily. “My brother is the Earl of Montgomery.”
“I believe so, yes. It is only that my father, upon hearing about Lucien’s marriage, asked around so we would not feel utterly blindsided by the newest addition to the Fitzgerald family. I do hope that is all right with you.”
“Of course.” Edwina waved his question away, until he smirked as he took a sip of his tea.
“I must admit that we discovered your secrets.”
Edwina froze.
Nicholas .
Next to her, Lucien stiffened.
Allan continued, oblivious to the tension, “You pushed the poor Earl into the mud on his eighteenth birthday, when you were just a young girl. I believe he was terribly embarrassed.”
At his own joke—which seemed to fall short due to Edwina’s fear of her brother’s addiction being discovered—Allan laughed loudly, shaking his head. Only to realize that the laughter that joined was more nervous than amused.
“Did I say something wrong?” he asked, frowning. “My mother did always say I spoke too much, even as a young boy. She said I needed to stop learning another language, for it would only encourage me to chatter and chatter.”
“And yet you learned five.” Rose giggled. “I rather like hearing you shout at your peers in French, at the balls. It amuses me greatly, for half of them pretend not to know what you are saying, although they likely understand perfectly.”
“Oh, undoubtedly.” Allan chuckled. “ Dites-moi, ma chère, parlez-vous francais ?”
Edwina was delighted to understand that he was asking if she spoke French. Smiling, she answered, “ Oui. Très bien, m’a-t-on dit .”
“Ah,” Allan said, looking rather impressed. “I am glad you have been praised for your proficiency. There is barely any hesitation to understand or think of a response. Most impressive. Rose is rather proficient, too. Lucien, do you remember how we would once have conversations completely in other languages in the hopes of not being overheard by my mother?”
Edwina almost felt sorry for Allan. He was trying too hard to include Lucien in the conversation he clearly did not wish to be a part of. She felt a pang of guilt, but then she quickly shook it off. Her husband had agreed properly in the end, without the need for her other persuasive techniques.
“I do,” he answered stiffly. “However, I do not wish to at this present moment. En fait, je veux que vous quittiez ma maison. ”
“Lucien!” Edwina gasped at the tone of his voice, right as he stood up.
Lucien just shook his head. “I am sorry, Edwina. But Allan, Rose, please. I must ask you both to leave. Edwina and I have engagements this afternoon, and we must prepare.”
For once, Edwina did not protest, reading the warning in her husband’s eyes. Something had snapped within him, and she could only gape at him.
What had his cousins done that had pushed him away so fiercely?
Regardless, both of his cousins stood up, but Allan held up a finger. “Do excuse me one moment.” He drank the remainder of his tea, and Edwina could not help but smile, turning her face away. “Thank you for your hospitality. Both of you. Lucien, I do hope we can meet halfway one day. That we might meet as we once did—friends and cousins. Let us depart, Rose.”
“It was lovely to meet you,” Edwina offered, wincing as she was hugged by Rose. Not because she did not enjoy the embrace but because she wished to speak with the siblings further, to get to know them better. But they both vacated the room.
Neither Lucien nor Edwina spoke until the front door closed.
And then his eyes were on hers, angry and dark.
“Lucien, I am sorry?—”
“If you are willing, I shall take you while facing the window,” he growled, already loosening his breeches.
Vexation flared inside him, and Edwina shuddered at the thought of receiving the brunt of it, of him choosing to let out his dark feelings about his family’s history in this way.
“Are you willing?” he demanded.
“I am,” she whispered, heat rushing through her.
On legs that trembled with anticipation, Edwina kneeled on the sill, facing the window. Thankfully, the grounds beyond were empty. She gasped when cold air kissed the back of her thighs as Lucien pulled her dress to her hips.
He wasted no time in entering her, unexpectedly slow. Until his anger took root and his hips slammed against her own, the sound almost too loud in the room. Edwina could barely contain her soft groans of pleasure. Her husband was rough with her, not taking his anger out on her specifically but venting through her.
Her hands splayed against the glass, and desperately hoping that a maid would not come in to see if she had to clear away the tea tray after the guests’ departure, Edwina took comfort in what her husband was doing. Rather than shutting her out as he had once done, he invited her in—or rather invited himself into her.
Pleasure rolled over Edwina in shudders and gasps, and by the time Lucien emptied himself into her, she was shaking.
“May I have your release?” he asked, his voice low and demanding as he crouched behind her, his teeth sinking into the back of her thigh.
“Please,” she gasped.
When his tongue entered her, Lucien ensured that she reached her climax, feeling every groan he made against her. By the time they were finished, her back was damp with perspiration, and Lucien pressed his forehead to the nape of her neck.
“Was I too rough? I did not wish to grip you so tightly. I… I lost myself, and all I thought of was you. Of finding a way to bring you closer, to take out my frustration in a better way.”
“I had guessed,” she whispered, turning in his arms. “Shall we take a walk in the gardens? Some fresh air might help.”
Wordlessly, Lucien nodded.
Edwina’s body still shook with the exertion as she guided her husband out of the room and towards the gardens.