Viscount in Love (Accidental Brides #1)

Chapter 33

Dominic knew it was coming: the very next morning in bed, when they were companionably eating toast side by side, Torie said,

“Tell me about your father, Dom.”

“I’d rather not.” He put down his teacup and defensively took a huge bite of toast.

“You know everything about my father,” she pointed out, turning until she was sitting beside him like a mermaid on a rock,

both legs tucked to one side. “ All my secrets are in the open. In fact, they have been for years, and I promise you that it’s much more comfortable this way.”

“My father had no secrets,” he told her. “He was neither a drunkard nor a gambler.”

Torie’s thoughtful gaze felt as if she saw to the bottom of his soul.

It sent a bolt of alarm down his spine, terror that she would use her insight to control him. His father had had a seemingly

magical ability to discover his small son’s greatest fears and use them against him. Thinking of it, Dominic’s mouth twisted

into a sardonic grimace until, horrified, he flattened it away. He could not become his father, take on his cruelty. Try to

break his children.

Appetite gone, he put down his toast.

Torie’s hand curled around his wrist. He looked down at it numbly.

“Would I have liked him?” Torie asked.

Dominic shook his head. “Absolutely not. I didn’t.”

“You once mentioned that he was miserly.”

“With his money and his affection.”

“Eat,” his wife said, holding his marmalade toast to his mouth. Then she leaned in and dropped a sticky kiss on his lips.

“Why wouldn’t I have liked him?”

“He would have been so rude to you.”

Her eyelashes flickered. “Because I can’t read?”

“He wouldn’t have needed that excuse. He hated women in general, but particularly pretty ones who might distract a man from

his purpose.” Dominic heard his father’s harsh voice in his ear, his raucous laugh. “Ladies with opinions and charm.” Even

thinking of his father’s probable reaction to his marriage made his fists curl.

Torie was silent for a moment.

“Opinions and charm,” she said, finally. “Is that why you chose Leonora? She does make a point of presenting herself as a

lady without opinions. Though I think she has charm.”

“Not like yours,” Dominic replied. “Your allure is natural, whereas your sister’s every word is deliberate. Leonora’s disinclination

to speak more than a few words an evening cannot be described as charming.”

He couldn’t abide falsehoods, and the way Torie’s sister presented herself to the world was manifestly false. His wife, on

the other hand, was open with everyone, no matter how much they disparaged her.

“Since I can’t read, I would presumably confirm your father’s worst ideas about my sex,” Torie said, her train of thought

accidentally following his. “Misogynists generally celebrate my addled brain.”

“You don’t have an addled brain!” Dominic said. “I don’t know why you can’t read, but it’s not a matter of that.”

Torie shrugged. “I’m talking about perception. Would the late viscount have believed that an illiterate wife posed no threat

to your equanimity? Was that one reason why you chose to marry me after my sister?” She eyed him, smiling over her toast.

“I’m not saying that to pick a fight. I do know that whatever rational reason you had to marry me other than the twins was

swamped by my enchanting—ahem—bosom.”

Dominic snorted. “The late viscount would have loathed you—which, by the way, I consider a badge of honor. He would have had

an apoplexy if he could see me throw myself in a carriage to come home to you, the fact we sleep together for pleasure rather

than creating an heir.”

“One of my favorite parts of our marriage,” Torie said.

The grin on her lips sent a most peculiar lurch through him, as if the world was shifting under his feet. His father’s caustic

opinions had continued to burn long after his death, but now he felt an odd lightness.

As if this bedchamber, this woman, might dispel the memory of his father’s edicts.

“The gown you were wearing yesterday would have brought on another fit, since he abhorred spending money,” Dominic said, deciding

to share all his father’s worst traits. “He would have concluded that you were a spendthrift, who would obviously be unfaithful,

which meant you would ruin my life.”

Torie frowned. “I begin to understand Lady Dorney.”

“We all seek revenge in our own ways,” Dominic said, putting his empty plate to the side. “My sister chose to flaunt all his worst opinions of women. She was very proud of the fact that he died of a heart attack the morning after she danced three times at a ball with the married host and then disappeared with him for a considerable time.”

“My goodness,” Torie exclaimed.

“He always told me that my temper was our family legacy, though he certainly tried to beat it out of me.”

“Oh, Dom.” She put her teacup down with a clatter and snuggled herself against his side, wrapping an arm across his chest.

“I wish I could have protected you.”

“I didn’t mean to sound so dramatic,” Dominic said, startled. “True, my father firmly believed the adage ‘spare the rod and

spoil the child,’ but I was never badly injured.’” He kissed her head. “And I did eventually learn to control my tantrums.”

“Yet you lose your temper regularly in the House of Lords.”

“I need to catch their attention.”

She raised her head and kissed his chin. “If we’re trading in adages, I’d suggest that ‘catching more flies with honey’ has

some truth.”

Dominic had heard as much before, but she wasn’t at Lords, facing all those idiots and their waffling opinions.

Torie sat up and swung a leg over his body, sitting down. These days he woke with one part of his body standing ready, waiting

for the moment when his wife would finish her tea, and he could seduce her. His tool thumped enthusiastically underneath her

soft body.

“Mmmm,” Torie said, wiggling.

He swallowed hard.

“I do have an important point to make, Dom.”

“If you wanted to ensure my attention, you have it,” he said hoarsely.

“The Duke of Queensberry—”

He put his hands on her hips and pushed down, enjoying the way her voice broke off.

“Dom!”

“Yes, darling?”

“The Duke of Queensberry is too afraid of you to take up his seat in Lords.”

His hands fell away. “What did you say?”

“He’s too afraid,” Torie said patiently. She leaned forward and ran her hands down Dominic’s cheeks. “He told me back in April,

when he was courting me.”

“He was trying to dissuade you from marrying me,” Dominic said, steel in his voice. The hell he’d buy Queensberry another

coat. Next time he saw him, he’d slash a rapier down the back of that pink monstrosity.

“I think he was genuinely worried on my behalf. He said you would surely call him a ‘duffer’ in public, if not worse, and

that people already believed his younger brother should have inherited the title if there was fairness in the world.” She

wiggled again, a smile curving her lush lips. “Which there isn’t, especially when you were in line to receive physical...

endowments.”

Dominic ignored that. “If I hold my temper, may we please discuss something else?”

“His Grace would be a vote on your side,” Torie said. “Once you explained things to him. He’s got a good heart.”

“I know that,” Dominic conceded. The duke had been extremely gracious when Dominic offered to pay off his debts. In fact, now that he thought about it, Queensberry had said ashamedly that Dominic probably didn’t have any debts, but he himself was a nitwit who couldn’t resist a lustrous silk.

Dom had silently agreed with him, since he wouldn’t dream of going into debt to buy a coat. But now he saw that exchange in

a different light.

Queensberry was being shamed for his intellect, something out of his control. As was Torie.

Looking down into her husband’s face, Torie decided that they’d had enough serious conversation for the morning. Her painting

was calling to her, but she would never be able to concentrate until...

“I take it your generosity is partly revenge on your father,” she said, leaning over enough to nip his lower lip.

“You could say that.” Sure enough, his eyes darkened.

“Perhaps you’d like to seek more revenge?”

Dominic’s hands on her hips tightened, and he pulled her down again, settling her weight more firmly. “Not a bad idea. What

do you suggest?” His voice was a rasp.

“We could buy every child in the Chelsea Orphanage an expensive doll, one of the ones with real china heads.”

“Spending money does make me happy,” her husband said. There was a suspicion of a smile around his lips.

“What else makes Viscount Kelbourne happy? And, of course, makes the ghost of his father un happy—perhaps even exorcizes that phantom, since Florence is certain of his existence.” She raised a finger. “I have it!”

Dominic’s smile grew.

She wiggled again. “Ah, my favorite clothespin,” she sighed.

Her husband crossed his arms behind his head, flexing the heavy slabs that sculpted his upper body.

Torie’s voice lowered. “You turn yourself over to me.” She trailed her right hand over his chest and stopped at a nipple.

“You let me do depraved things to you that no lady would dream of doing, especially in the morning light.”

“Sunlight does make depraved things seem more depraved,” Dominic agreed.

“Lie down,” she commanded, shifting to the side.

His jaw flexed, but he slid farther down the bed. She ran her right leg up his thigh and cooed, “That wasn’t easy, but good

things will come of it.” She reached back to the tea tray and picked up the little dipper that sat in a jar of honey. Golden

sweetness spiraled down to the plate. She waggled her eyebrows at him and then looked at his crotch.

Dominic drew in a sharp breath. “Torie.” His voice was raw.

She dipped the honey stick again.

“Lie still, Viscount.”