Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

“ H er Grace has requested that dinner be brought to her chambers,” Tobias said when Percival inquired about his wife’s absence in the dining room.

“Thank you, Tobias. Please ensure that she has her meal sent up to her,” Percival instructed in a calm voice that belied the storm brewing beneath his breast.

Since the passionate night they spent together, his wife had become withdrawn and a shadow of her usual vivacious self.

It might have something to do with the cruel way he had rejected her after their delicious interlude. Even now, he could still taste her on his lips, and his fingers itched to touch her satiny skin.

All he could say now was that he was right. One kiss, one touch hadn’t been enough. Instead, now he had filthier fantasies that tormented his sleeping and waking hours.

He had always desired his wife, of that much he was aware. His adventure into pleasuring her seemed to turn that desire into a blazing furnace that was threatening to consume him whole.

Perhaps it was best that she was avoiding him, saving him from himself and the nearly uncontrollable urge to ravish her without any thought for the consequences. When he stood next to her, mesmerized by her scent and the maddeningly distracting gown she wore, he knew he would have given in to his desire if she had not left when she did.

This was not what he had imagined his convenient marriage would look like. For one, he had not expected that he would be this consumed by desire for his wife. No matter how he thought about it, she was at fault. She was the one tempting, teasing, and seducing him with every minute movement of her hands, her delicious smiling lips, and her thickly lashed warm brown eyes, which he could drown in a happy man.

He had done his best to stay away from her, to give them a fighting chance to maintain the chastity of their marriage. But his stubborn wife had insisted on him joining her for at least one meal every day, effectively placing him close to the temptation that was her.

He had endured—oh how he had endured—even when every movement of her lips as she ate sent a bolt of heat to his groin until he was perpetually aroused and increasingly envious of her cutlery and the way they rested between her lips, where his tongue longed to be.

Now that he had gotten attached to eating with her and watching her eat, she had the guts to suggest they go back to staying apart. The rational part of his brain argued that it was best for his peace of mind, but the other part of him that was consumed by her wanted to spend any time he could get with her, no matter how brief it was. She could not just decide to deny him that pleasure just because she could.

He was the head of the household, and if he wanted her to come down for meals, she was going to, even if he had to drag her down the stairs.

He stood up, ignoring the sound the chair made against the floor, and went upstairs, taking the stairs two at a time until he was standing in front of her chambers.

He raised his hand to knock but then halted when he heard a faint sound. Listening closely, he realized with horror that it was sobbing.

His wife was sobbing.

Her sobs became shorter, and each sound was like a dagger to his chest.

“Wife,” he called, knocking softly.

Her sobs ceased immediately, the room falling so silent that he thought he might have imagined the sound.

“Louisa,” he called again, his voice rising an octave as he knocked harder on the door. “Are you all right?”

After several minutes of knocking and calling her name, it became quite clear that she did not wish to speak to him, and no matter how beastly he was rumoured to be, he would never force her to do anything she did not wish to do.

He stepped away from the door and headed down the stairs. As soon as he was outside, he asked that his horse be saddled, ignoring the incredulous look the stable hand gave him. Percival could hardly blame him, as no man in his right mind would decide to take a leisurely ride on such a cold night.

It was either that, or he would throw himself in the icy waters of the lake again, in the hope of calming his body and mind. But with how frequently he swam in the cold lake, he ran the risk of catching his death.

That left him with two options: either surrender to the desire he felt for his wife or find other ways to bring his urges under control. Since the first option was not possible, he was stuck with the second option—riding in the middle of the night long enough to tire himself and clear his head.

Soon, his horse was saddled and ready, and he mounted it and took off, letting Hades have his head when they turned onto the open road. The horse seemed to enjoy it after being cooped up inside for so long. After some time, Percival regained control of the horse as it began to slow down, obviously growing tired.

He nudged the horse into a brisk walk when he noticed they had somehow ridden into Mayfair. He stopped in front of Gillingham Manor and handed the reins to the stable hand. He bounded up the stairs and lifted the heavy knocker on the door, before rapping a few times.

The door was opened by the aged butler, who looked slightly annoyed to be roused from his sleep. When he noted who was standing before him, his annoyed expression turned into the blank mask that butlers were known for.

“Good evening, Your Grace. His Lordship is in the drawing room, I believe,” the butler said before Percival could ask for his half-brother’s whereabouts.

“Thank you,” Percival replied, handing him his coat and marching purposefully into the house in search of Eli.

He found him, eventually, sitting cross-legged in the drawing room and nursing a glass of whiskey. A look of surprise flashed in his eyes when he saw him.

“Quite surprising to see you here, Your Grace. What brings you to Mayfair? Let me be the first to say it—you look like hell,” Eli drawled.

Percival flashed him a warning look, but instead of being chastised, Eli chuckled in amusement.

“If I look like hell, you look like a drunk. You seem to have liquor with you whenever I see you,” Percival noted, taking a seat opposite him and crossing his legs, making himself at home.

“You might be the one with an affinity for spirits, since you always find me drinking,” Eli shot back. He drained his glass and then headed to his liquor cabinet. He staggered as he moved showing he had deeply imbibed but was somehow was still able to move.

He held out an empty glass to Percival.

“Could I tempt you?”

“No, thank you,” Percival muttered, waving his hand dismissively. “I need my wits about me.”

“Suit yourself,” Eli said, refilling his glassing and heading back to the sofa. “Tell me, Percy, you do not seem to be enjoying your honeymoon. Does marriage not agree with you, after all?”

“There is nothing wrong with my marriage, just my wife.”

“I would argue that they are one and the same, but do tell,” Eli urged, leaning forward while staring at Percival with rapt attention. “What have she done?”

“She has sequestered herself in her room, denying me entrance, refusing to talk to me…” Percival trailed off in frustration.

“If I remember correctly,” Eli spoke up after a pause, “you told me that your marriage was one of convenience and that you wished to live separate lives. She is doing exactly that—living separately from you.” He splashed some brandy into his glass. “I am sorry, Percy, but I do not see the problem here.”

“Yes, I did agree to living separate lives, but she was the one who demanded that we share meals and attend social events. She asked for companionship. I was doing my best to grant that request when she decided she didn’t want it any longer. She wanted what we had at the beginning of our marriage. She cannot just change everything as she likes. It does not just affect her, but me as well,” Percival grunted, breathing deeply to calm himself.

“Percy,” Eli began. “It seems to me that you have fallen in love with your wife.”

“Nonsense,” Percy snorted. “I would hardly fall prey to such a useless emotion. I do care about her, but it is nothing like the foolish emotion that Byron and his cronies whine about all night long.”

“Well,” Eli drawled, a mischievous smile playing on his lips, “while it is a well-kept secret that women can be… mysterious in their own way, I do not think the change in her behaviour happened without any reason. Perhaps you will tell me what happened?”

“Well,” Percival began after a pause, shifting uncomfortably under his half-brother’s knowing gaze. “She did ask that I visit her bed, and I refused.”

“Well,” Eli said, chuckling, “I think that is a good enough reason to be annoyed. But why are you avoiding her bed so keenly, if I might ask? I know several men in England who would beg for the attention of their wives.”

“You know why,” Percival replied bluntly.

“I do not believe I do,” Eli countered, his eyes wide with mock innocence. “I heard your wife is scarred—perhaps you find her too ugly to bed her?”

“You would do well to watch your tongue,” Percival warned, his voice dropping to a menacing growl. “Do not talk about my Duchess that way. I do not take kindly to it.”

“My apologies, Percy,” Eli offered, raising his hand in surrender. “Curse my curious tongue. I just wanted to help you get to the root of your marital woes. I apologize if I have angered you.”

“Apology accepted, Gillingham,” Percy said sullenly. “Thank you for listening to my complaints.”

“I am happy to be of assistance,” Eli returned with a happy smile. “Though I firmly believe that the answer to your woes lies within you and the feelings you harbor for your fair wife.”