Chapter 11

CHAPTER11

“Concentrate, you fool. Concentrate!” Daniel practically barked the words at himself as he looked between the ledgers and contracts scattered across his desk. Try as hard as he could, his mind kept wandering back to one thing.

He saw himself in bed with Rachel beneath him, wearing that slim night rail that had covered up very little. The hem of the gown had been drawn up around her thighs, revealing their length and slimness. The gown itself had been cinched softly at the waist, and thanks to the delicacy of the material, all of her curves had been on show.

He knew exactly why he had rebuffed her attempt to help him the night before. It was with the intention of keeping her at arms’ length, for he had been so tempted to mold their bodies together and take her right there and then.

As with the memory of her beneath him on the bed, there was another recollection from the night that would not leave his mind. It had been the tenderness of her touch on his arm. So soft and gentle, it was a touch of concern. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched him like that.

“No more,” Daniel ordered himself again and shifted his focus to the matters of the brewery he owned. It was one of the most successful breweries in the country, though it had not been without its problems in its early days.

It was a venture that had been set up between Daniel’s father and his business partner, another duke. But, after a fire, Daniel’s father had bought out his partner. After that, it had taken a large amount of investment to repair the brewery. Since then, Daniel had worked hard to make the business a success, introducing the beer to various establishments around the country. It was now stocked in most gentlemen’s clubs in London, as well as various town inns and alehouses.

Perhaps it’s time for another venture.

He scribbled down some ideas he had for another brewery. As he worked, a knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” he called.

The door opened, but whoever it was didn’t dare venture inside.

It was Anne. She leaned on the door frame and sighed. “Is she here?” she whispered.

“No. I hear our aunt has taken her shopping for a new gown.” Daniel smiled at the idea. “I suspect Aunt Dorothea is intending to make Rachel quite the talked-of Duchess.”

“She’s already talked of, just for the wrong reasons,” Anne scoffed.

Daniel paused and put his quill to the side, linking his hands together as he looked up at his sister. “What was that about you promising to be polite?”

“I am doing my best.” Anne rolled her eyes. “I have not said anything cruel to her or started an argument.”

“Have you spoken to her at all since our discussion?” His gut tightened when Anne shook her head. “That hardly seems polite.”

“At least it’s better than arguing with her, which I’m afraid is what I long to do.” She sighed and folded her arms, giving him that same tart look she had shot him in her studio the day before.

“She does not deserve your belligerence, Anne.”

The moment the words were out of his lips, guilt raged inside him.

But how have I treated her since last night?

He was avoiding Rachel as best as he could, but it was for a good reason. He could not take her if he was to keep to his vow, and she had tempted him to do so every time he had spoken to her.

I need to find another way to deal with this.

“You don’t need to hide from her,” Daniel tried again to persuade his sister. “It’s almost as if you’re afraid of her.”

“I just don’t want to see her. That’s all.” Anne shrugged.

The sound of a carriage distracted them both. Daniel stood and came out from behind his desk, stepping into the corridor alongside his sister. They both moved to a front window to see Dorothea’s carriage pulling up in front of the manor.

Dorothea stepped down first with the footman’s help, and Rachel followed behind, though she didn’t bother with the footman’s hand and stepped down with ease. She wore a new gown, one so fine that Daniel was transfixed to the spot.

“Who can have a new gown so fast?” Anne hissed in amazement at his side.

“I suspect Aunt Dorothea told the modiste to have one prepared in advance,” Daniel said distractedly, as his eyes were roaming over his wife.

It was a bold gown indeed, made of Pomona green silk. Gathered high under the bust, it fell past Rachel’s hips, revealing the sensual curve. Her height was accentuated by the way her hair had been gathered at the back of her head with green pins. The deep neckline of the gown was what captured his attention the most, revealing a hint of her bosom, which had him thinking of her beneath him in his bed once again.

“Do I need to flick my fingers to get your attention, Brother?” Anne snapped.

He looked at her with a narrow glare. “I do not understand you.”

“You are gawking like an enchanted boy.” Anne laughed at him. “She has quite seduced you into marriage.”

“You do not know her at all, Anne.”

Despite his objection, he walked away from the window and moved closer to the door, intent on seeing Rachel as she entered. There would be no more avoiding her, not after he had realized he had been behaving as badly as his sister.

Rachel stepped in through the front door, with Dorothea following behind.

“See, Rachel? It is a perfect gown! It suits a duchess very well, indeed,” Dorothea boasted as she swept into the entry.

“You’re too kind,” Rachel said softly as she placed down some boxes on the side table. The footman swept them away to carry them upstairs before she could fidget too much with them. “It was a pleasant afternoon. I thank you for it.”

“You are most welcome.” Dorothea smiled warmly, then turned around as she noticed Daniel had been watching them. He struggled to take his eyes off Rachel and look at his aunt. “Ah, there you are, Daniel. What do you think of your wife? Quite the gown, is it not?”

“Indeed, it is.” Daniel’s voice had deepened.

He could have sworn Rachel shook a little at his words. Was it a pleasant shudder? One that betrayed a thrill? He prayed it was the case.

“Ah, Anne, dear, there you are.” Dorothea swept past Daniel easily, hurrying toward Anne, who had been hiding in the shadows.

Daniel gladly let the two of them talk and walked toward his wife. He thought only of the way she looked in the gown and how she fussed with the sleeves, clearly uncertain what to think of it.

“What do you think?” she asked, turning back and forth as she shifted to face a mirror fixed to the wall. She looked more at ease than he had seen her for some time. Somehow, she was more confident.

“What do you think?” he countered, standing behind her as she looked in the mirror.

“It is different,” she murmured, then smiled broadly as she dropped her hands from the sleeves. “I like that. I am different from other ladies of the ton, so I can’t help thinking it suits me well,” she jested with a smile.

“Believe me, it suits you very well.” He kept looking over her shoulder at her reflection, entranced.

“Dorothea suggested I should hold a tea party for my sisters and friends. If you have no objection, I’d like to do it. I’d like the company,” she said distractedly.

The words made Daniel ache. Not because she had made the request, but because it was a hint as to how he had left her lonely, once again.

I am not doing very well at making my wife happy.

“Of course, you can do whatever you like here, Rachel.”

“Thank you.” She turned back to face him, then froze, her smile faltering a little. “Daniel?” she whispered.

“Yes?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” he asked innocently.

Rachel’s gaze flicked toward Dorothea and Anne in the passageway, and upon finding them caught up in their own conversation, she felt at liberty to speak.

Stepping toward him, she lowered her voice, just in case they paid attention. “As if you are ready to tear this gown off me.”

“Well…” He paused, happily distracted by thoughts of doing that very thing, tearing the gown off her, ripping the skirt and bodice just to get to her body faster. “Maybe it is what I am thinking.”

Her lips parted in shock.

“It would not be the first time a husband looked at his wife in such a way, would it?” he asked in a whisper.

“After last night…” She held his gaze, though he saw her throat bob as she swallowed. Evidently, she was trying to hide her nervousness. “I presumed even the mere thought of having me in your chamber disconcerted you.”

“Far from it, Rachel.” His voice deepened further.

“I thought you said it was a marriage of convenience.”

Her eyes flicked to his chest. He wondered if she was remembering how they had been together the night before and how he had been wearing so little at the time.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not tempted.”

He said nothing more but held her gaze. She matched his look. With such tension between them, Daniel nearly grabbed her hand and dragged her away from the corridor. His resolution not to bed her be damned. What a thrill it would be! To feel her against him, to indulge in such pleasure until she moaned his name.

“Yes, you’ll be seeing much more of me around here,” Dorothea said to Anne across the passageway, her raised voice capturing his attention. “Once there is the sound of little feet running through these corridors, you won’t be able to get rid of me.”

Little feet?

Daniel looked away, so stunned at Dorothea’s expectation that he felt his spine become wooden. He didn’t move, not even an inch.

There will never be any little feet running through here.

“Now, how about some dinner?” Dorothea asked, looking at them all.

“I shall eat in my chamber.” Anne tried to head for the stairs, but Dorothea caught her hand and pulled her back.

“Nonsense. We are to eat dinner as a family.” Dorothea pulled her down the corridor, heading in the direction of the dining room.

Anne looked back at Daniel pleadingly, but he made no effort to intervene. It was about time Anne shared a meal with Rachel.

“Daniel?” Rachel’s voice caught his attention. “Are you well? You seem rather… tense.”

“Yes, I’m fine,” he lied, knowing he couldn’t yet talk to her about this. He, again, dismissed the temptation to bed her, for his mind was now caught up completely in what Dorothea had said.

Little feet… little feet…

He hated the idea, entirely.

There will be no child, no heir, nothing.

“Come, let us eat, Rachel.” He offered his arm to his wife.

When Rachel’s fingers rested on the crook of his arm, it was a pleasant distraction, but not enough to stop him from his fearful thoughts.

There will be no child!

* * *

Daniel’s eyes darted across the painting of the British Civil War as he sat behind his desk. In one hand, he had a quill that he was tapping repeatedly against the papers in front of him. There was a myriad of notes in front of him, but he didn’t pay attention to any of them. He was too busy looking at the painting and the bloodshed.

“Knock, knock,” a voice called from behind the door. “Have you not been working for long enough, dear?”

“Come in, Auntie.” Daniel looked away from the painting as Dorothea entered.

She carried her own candle with her, for darkness had fallen deeply that night, with the clouds covering the moon. Daniel already had three candles lit, but the extra candle helped to throw an orange glow onto his aunt’s features.

“Did you enjoy the dinner?”

“Mostly, but it was also difficult.” Dorothea was a plain speaker and not afraid to be open-minded. She placed the candle with the others on Daniel’s desk. “Dear Anne.” She sighed and shook her head. “I suspect she fears losing this house as her home as much as she fears that you have been trapped.”

“Sometimes I think Anne has grown up, then I remember how young she is.” Daniel exhaled slowly, worrying about his sister. “It will be her first season soon. I have held it back long enough, but she’ll have to start attending events.”

“That she will. Perhaps they will help her to see another life beyond these walls. She may hope for a marriage of her own.”

“She’s too young for that still.” Daniel picked up his quill, his hand tightening around the feather as he thought protectively of his sister.

“Daniel.” Dorothea sat on the edge of his desk, her voice lowering. “She’s not too young at all to be wed.”

Daniel didn’t answer. Eighteen still seemed too young to him for such a thing, even though he’d seen ladies marry even younger before.

“Let us not talk about this, Auntie,” he pleaded with a sigh. “It will only make me fear the future.”

“Well, at least now you have something to be excited about in the future.” Dorothea clasped her hands together with enthusiasm, then turned her head around and caught sight of the painting. “Oh, Daniel, I can see why I have avoided this room up until now. What a horrible picture to stare at day after day.”

“It’s important to me,” Daniel said in a quiet tone, though his aunt didn’t appear to hear him.

“Too much blood.” She looked away from it, fixing her gaze on his own. “We were talking of excitement, about the future.”

“Yes, though you’re baffling me as to why you think I should be so excited.”

“You cannot be this much of a fool.” Dorothea laughed. “You have a beautiful wife in this house, one that is currently staring at the other end of a card table and praying for a partner. Unfortunately, my skills are somewhat lacking, and Anne wouldn’t dream of playing with her. There is another in this house who excels at such games, though.” She took the quill out of his hands and pointed at him.

“I will join her shortly,” Daniel insisted. “I’m just attending to some business.”

“Hmm, or are you trying to avoid her?”

“What do you mean, Aunt Dorothea?”

“I know you.” Dorothea stood from the desk, smiling as she turned the quill over in her hand. “You have never been the same since you came back from the war.”

He froze, sitting back in his chair as his eyes turned to the painting. His gaze tarried on a particular part of the picture, where a soldier held the neck of another. He was strangling him, draining the life out of him. It took effort, with every second drawn out.

Daniel saw himself in such a position, though it was not a painting, but reality. He had been the one that was being strangled by his opponent. He’d pulled at the arm around his throat, trying to breathe, watching as all those around him suffered similar injuries, wounds, and even death. Even now, he was unsure how he’d managed to free his own throat and survive. He’d had to hurt his enemy to live, and the wound was deep.

The man probably did not live.

Daniel lifted his hands in front of his face as if there was blood on his fingers.

“Daniel?” Dorothea’s sharp tone urged him to look back at her. “Have you heard anything I’ve been saying?”

“I do not think so.” He rubbed his face, trying to center himself on the present rather than the past. “What did you say?”

“I said, that is quite a woman you have waiting for you in your parlor.” Dorothea smiled. “She says she’s seen you smile, even laugh since she came into this house. You didn’t do much of either before she arrived.”

“What’s your point, Auntie?”

“My point is a simple one.” Dorothea stood and walked to the door. “Maybe it’s time to heal, Daniel.”

“Heal? I’m no longer wounded. I carry scars, not wounds.”

“I was talking of a wound that is not so easy to see.” Dorothea lingered in the doorway a minute or so longer, her smile rather sad now. “I suspect your wife might be the way for you to heal that wound if you would take a chance on it.” She turned and left before Daniel had the chance to ask anything more.

What did she mean by that?