Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
“ W elcome back to London, little sister!” Lucien said, wrapping his arms around Leah and pulling her in tight. “I am so glad to have you back.”
“And I’m glad to be back,” she said, hugging her brother as tightly as she possibly could. “It was so lonely out in the countryside without the lot of you!”
“Let me hug her now!” Eve complained, pulling at Lucien’s arms. “I’ve missed her more than you have!”
Laughing, Lucien released Leah, and she was bombarded by Eve, then Celeste, and then Emery, all of whom insisted on hugging her for at least a minute each.
“We missed you so much,” Celeste said, when at last they had all released her.
“Don’t ever go away again,” Eve said.
“I’ll try not to,” Leah said with a laugh. It felt so good to see her siblings and to be back in her brother’s townhouse. The parlor looked exactly the same, and the feeling of nostalgia it filled her with was powerful.
She and Dorian had returned from the countryside the night before, and the first thing she had done this morning was call on her family. Now, as her sisters pulled her over to the couch to fill her in on all the gossip she’d missed, she vowed never to leave them again.
This is where I belong. Surrounded by family. And if I can’t give birth to my own, then I want to be with the one I was born into.
For half an hour, the sisters gossiped, drank tea, and asked her a million questions about married life. It was only once their curiosity had been satisfied did Leah get a moment of peace. Celeste was curled up with a book, while Eve read the gossip columns. Emery was embroidering, and Lucien was sitting in the corner, reading the paper.
Leah’s eyes lingered on her brother. If she were being honest, her reasons for coming to the house weren’t entirely so that she could reconnect with her sisters. She also had a few questions for Lucien.
Leah stood and crossed the room to where her brother was sitting, then sat down in the chair next to him. He lowered the paper and smiled at her.
“So how are you?” he asked in a low voice, his eyes sweeping over her. “I know that Dorian is charming and gregarious in public, but I imagine being married to him is a little harder.”
“In some ways,” Leah hedged.
“He is the kind of person who talks a great deal but never actually tells you anything about himself.”
“Yes,” Leah said, her brows knitting together. “You’ve noticed that?”
“Of course I’ve noticed that. I’m his best friend.”
“What else have you noticed?” she asked.
Lucien raised an eyebrow. “Well, for a rake, I have never once actually seen him with a woman. So I suppose I have my doubts about that as well.”
Leah laughed. Dorian is not so good at fooling people as he thinks he is. “I was actually wondering if you might be able to tell me something about my husband,” she said after a moment.
“What do you want to know?” He asked.
“Well…” She bit her lip. “He mentioned to me that he had a sister. And while he seemed glad to tell me about her, he also said it was too painful for him to speak of for long. So while I want to ask him more questions, I don’t want to hurt him.”
Very slowly, Lucien nodded. “Yes,” he said at last. “He did have a sister. But she…”
“She died. He told me she died.”
“Yes. It was horrible. Many years ago, shortly after she was married.”
“Oh.” Leah made a mental note of this. Is this another reason Dorian is opposed to marriage? Does he associate his sister’s marriage with her death? Is it associated?
“Dorian does not like to speak about it. He did not even invite me to the funeral, although I told him I wanted to be there to support him.”
Despite herself, Leah felt her eyes begin to water. “That is very sad,” she murmured. “Do you know… do you know how she died?”
Lucien hesitated. Then he sighed and shook his head. “She drowned. It was apparently entirely preventable.”
Leah’s blood ran cold. No wonder he lost his mind when he saw me swimming! Nor had he ever accompanied her to the lake, although she had asked him about it again before they returned to London. He’d maintained that the weather was too bad and that she would catch a cold. But now, she understood.
She shivered, and Lucien lay a comforting hand on her arm. “It was many years ago,” he murmured, as if this made it any better. “Although I know it must still affect him, I am also sure that he has healed … in at least some ways.”
But Lucien didn’t entirely look convinced.
“Thank you for telling me,” she said. But even as she said the words, she wished that it had been Dorian who had told her.
Two nights later was the final ball of the Season, hosted by Lord and Lady Bellmond. Leah was excited for the ball. It was a welcome distraction, considering the imperfections in her marriage. Things had been better with Dorian ever since their conversation in his study and over dinner.
He had regularly attended breakfasts, lunches, and dinners with her while they were in the country and had dutifully made conversation with her. But while these were light and often friendly, they had not approached the level of intimacy that they had shared the night he’d told her about his sister.
She wondered, as she looked at herself in the mirror that evening while she prepared for the ball, if she ought to tell him what her brother had told her. But she didn’t want to upset him or bring up bad memories.
She sighed as she raised a hand to the curls that had been expertly coiffed by her maid. She thought she looked rather beautiful tonight--which was not often something she felt. But of course, this was tempered by the fact she was sure Dorian would not be attending the ball with her. When she’d asked him about it, he had been noncommittal. And she had a feeling he wouldn’t want to stoke any rumors of theirs being a love match.
At that moment, there was a knock at the door, and Leah looked up.
“Come in,” she called out. The maid had probably forgotten something. But when the door opened, she was surprised to see her husband.
She was even more surprised to see that he was dressed in the finest evening attire she had ever seen. The black velvet coat, the rich blue waistcoat, and the startlingly white, perfect starched cravat only emphasized his slightly wanton handsomeness. Although she now knew he was no rake, he still looked every bit the part, with his slightly disheveled hair, his stormy eyes, and the high , elegant cheekbones.
He had never looked so handsome, and as she gazed at him--their eyes meeting in the mirror at her vanity--she felt her heart tremble. In fact, her whole body trembled.
Why can’t he just let me in?
“Good evening,” she said, as he took a step into the room. When he didn’t answer, she stood up, turning to face him, and brushed down her dress. His eyes lingered on it, then came back up to her face. She felt self-conscious.
He still hadn’t spoken, and she wondered wildly if he was displeased with the dress. It was not her usual color. Usually she didn’t wear such deep red. But as the autumn approached, she had thought that it would be appropriate.
“You’re dressed as if you are coming with me,” she said, eyeing his evening attire. “But I thought you weren’t interested in this ball.”
Still, he said nothing. His eyes were like little fires, and she wondered what exactly was burning in them.
“Please speak to me,” she said after a moment. “If it’s the dress, if you think it isn’t elegant enough--”
“No, it’s nothing like that,” Dorian murmured. His voice was low and syrupy, and it made her heart beat faster. “You look stunning.”
She swallowed. Does he really mean that? It was hard to believe that was the reason he was really staring at her with such intensity.
“Thank you,” she managed at last.
“Truly,” he said, blinking slowly. “I am in awe of your beauty tonight. That color suits you very well.”
She said nothing. Every inch of her felt as if it were on fire--from both pleasure and embarrassment. She was not used to receiving compliments like this.
“There is just one thing…” he began slowly. He walked toward her, then around her, coming to stand behind her.
“What are you--?” she began, but before she could finish, he had brought his hands to her neck and was undoing the clasp on the chunky pearl necklace she had donned for the occasion.
Leah couldn’t breathe. His hands were at her throat, moving carefully, his fingers occasionally touching the back of her neck and making her shudder. She could see it all taking place in the mirror: his studied concentration, his large hands contrasted against her delicate neck and collarbones.
Then the clasp was open, and he was removing the necklace, setting it on the vanity. She felt faint. Never before had he touched her like this, had he been this intimate with her.
“I brought something else for you,” he whispered. From his pocket, he produced a small box. Opening it, he drew out the most beautiful gold necklace Leah had ever seen. She almost gasped. It was an elegant gold necklace--more dainty and delicate than the pearl one--with rubies set along it.
“How did you know I would wear red?” she murmured, as he placed it around her neck. But all thought and all questions disappeared as his fingers traced--quite unnecessarily--along her skin. Where he touched her, she felt as if she had been burned, but by the most exquisite fire she could ever imagine.
“I didn’t,” he murmured, his lips right by her ear. His hands came to the back of her neck again, and he did up the clasp. Once more, his hands settled on her skin--this time on her shoulders--and he looked up into the mirror, his eyes meeting hers. “That’s better.”
And he was right: this necklace suited the dress, the neckline, and her decollete much better. But none of that mattered. She would have worn something gaudy and ugly if it meant he touched her like that.
At last, he took a step back, releasing her shoulders. At once, she missed his hands there.
“Thank you,” she said, touching the necklace with her hand. “It’s very beautiful.”
“You’re very welcome,” he said, smiling slyly, and for a moment, he looked like he had before they married: like the same arrogant, flirtatious man who had taught her to come out of her shell. Maybe that’s why she said what she said next.
“I feel nervous about tonight,” she said, her hands once more dropping to her sides.
He raised his eyebrows. “You do?”
“It’s my first ball as a married woman, and while before, I could usually get away with disappearing into the background, now, I will be the center of much conversation and gossip, after how hastily you and I married. I feel that I will be on display, that people will be talking about me, judging me.”
“You will be,” he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “But you should pay them no mind. The ton is always judging those they are envious of. And they are going to be very, very envious of you tonight, Duchess.”
She turned around to face him, so that they were looking directly into one another’s eyes, not just through the mirror.
“I don’t know about that,” she said quietly. “I do not feel that anyone has any reason to envy me. I have always felt…” she swallowed, then forced herself to get it out. “I have always felt insecure around the ton, as if I do not belong. The only time I ever feel that I belong, or am at least grudgingly accepted, is when I am with you.”
“Then you are in luck,” he said with a smile. “Because I am accompanying you tonight.”
“Yes, but…” She sighed. “Things have not been the same between us since the wedding. I am not sure that being with you will make me feel confident anymore, seeing how strained our relationship has become.”
“It has been better of late.”
“It is still not the same,” she said with a sad smile. “Before, you were one of my closest friends. And I actually felt confident, maybe even desirable, when I was out in the ton. Now, I feel…”
“You should feel desirable,” he said, and his tone was so dark and intense that she blinked and stared up at him in awe. His expression had clouded, and his eyes were once more blazing.
For a second, she thought he was going to seize her by the arms, but he didn't. “You have nothing to feel insecure about,” he continued in the same dark, intense tone. “And you would know that--know how desirable you are--if you could see what I see.”
Her breath caught in her throat, and she blushed. The warmth spread from her cheeks to her neck, turning her scarlet. She looked away. She was embarrassed to blush in front of him like this, especially after he had told her they would not have a normal marriage. Turning away, she tried to catch her breath. She was lightheaded and dizzy.
Why does he always make me feel so unsteady?
Just as she began to walk away--to try and escape him and all the feelings building inside of her--her foot caught on the carpet, and she lost her balance. She fell forward, letting out a small gasp of fear and surprise.
But had barely begun to pitch forward when she felt strong hands grab her by the waist and arrest her fall. She let out another gasp, while at the same time, she heard Dorian’s concerned voice.
“Leah, are you okay?” He sounded genuinely worried.
“I’m okay,” she managed to gasp. “I just tripped.”
Very gently, Dorian turned her around. He was still holding her by the waist with one hand, but with his other, he took hold of her shoulder. When she looked up at him, she felt distinctly that he was cradling her in his arms. Very slowly, he brought her back upright, until she was steady on her own two feet.
They were very close. Far too close. His face was just inches from hers. His lips were so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin. It would be so easy to reach up on her tiptoes and press her lips against his, to let a hand come to his cheek, to pull him tight against her.
Dorian’s breath was ragged. His eyes were blazing. And she knew, with an instinct she couldn’t explain, that he was moments away from letting her do so--or even kissing her himself.
She swallowed.
Just do it. Just lean forward and do it.
But before she could, Dorian had taken a step back. It was so abrupt that she felt dizzy again. His eyes had a fearful look in them, and he was shaking his head slightly, as if to tell her no. At once, shame and anger flooded her.
Dorian turned away, toward the door, and put his hands on his hips, as if catching his breath after a long, hard ride.
“We should go,” he said, his voice strained, and Leah felt her heart turn to ice inside of her. “We don’t want to be late.”