Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

C hristian sat in an armchair before the fire and stared at the kitten.

He was a tiny, little thing with dark markings down his back and large, wide eyes that darted around every room with interest.

Christian glared at him.

The kitten was moving across the floor beneath him and sniffing everything in its path. Its claws pattered incessantly as it went to sit by the fire, the heat of the flames warming its back.

Christian glanced at the door, which he had deliberately left open to keep the stairs in sight. Despite his instructions, Louise was late. He frowned, wondering what on earth was taking her so long.

“I told her not to be late,” he muttered to Jack, “and here she is, with minutes to spare. I should confiscate you to teach her a lesson.”

At that moment, the kitten decided that he felt too hot beside the fire and wandered over to the chair. Christian eyed him warily and then cursed as the creature scaled his leg with needle-like claws, dragging its tiny body onto his knee.

The kitten studied him for a few seconds before padding down his thigh and nestling against his stomach. Christian gripped the armrests as he stared down at the purring creature irritably.

“I believe you are supposed to stroke it, dearest,” said an amused voice as the Dowager Duchess appeared in the doorway, watching him curiously.

“Why do cats constantly sit on those who do not like them?” Christian complained. “It took me an hour to get ready this evening—I do not want hair all over my coat.”

“Then why have you not removed him?” his mother asked.

Christian looked down at the little furball. Its back rose and fell rhythmically, its gentle purring oddly soothing. His hand moved of its own accord, and instead of lifting the little creature and placing it on the floor beside him, he found himself scratching it awkwardly behind its ears.

The kitten snuggled further against him, and his mother laughed.

“I think perhaps you do not dislike him as much as you claim.”

Louise would not like it if I were unkind to him.

“I suppose he is rather sweet if he could stop shedding hair over everything he passes.” Christian plucked a stray hair off his sleeve as his mother stepped into the room.

She stroked the cat far more naturally than he did and then went to stand beside the fireplace, watching him carefully.

Christian glanced up at her, feeling the atmosphere in the room change as she folded her hands in front of her.

“Has there been any news?” she asked softly, glancing at the doorway.

“About Marcus?” he asked. The Dowager Duchess nodded. “I spoke with the constable yesterday evening.”

“And?”

“He is rather reluctant to continue the investigation. I explained in the strongest terms that that was not his decision to make. The man is a little weasel and wishes to be done with it. He is convinced that Marcus is dead, I am sure.”

Tears welled up in his mother’s eyes, but her expression was resolute.

“It has been six months, Christian. Do you truly believe that any other outcome is possible now?”

“I must believe it,” Christian insisted. “I would know if he was dead. I would know it in my core. The constable said he found his carriage but did not find a body. Surely, that must mean that Marcus somehow escaped.”

“But where was he going? What reason did he have for taking the carriage out of London? That is what worries me.”

“I will find him, Mother. I know it.”

“I pray you are right. I would give anything to have both of my sons home with me again.”

Christian moved to rise, but then he remembered the small furball in his lap. He picked it up and walked over to his mother.

“You know I will do everything I can,” he said earnestly.

His mother gave a single nod in response, her lips thinning as she fought back tears. She was a proud woman, and he rarely saw her let emotions get the better of her.

Someone cleared their throat.

Christian turned around, the kitten held loosely in his fingers, and his breath caught in his lungs.

Louise was standing in the doorway, but she was no longer the Ice Queen he had once met. She wore the gown that he had purchased for her, and as he looked her over from head to toe, he had never regretted a purchase so much in his life.

How am I going to stand at her side all night, unable to touch her, with her looking like that?

She was dazzling, and as he continued to stare at her, he felt his breeches tighten.

The dress was cut low, showing a dark crease between her breasts. The dark red fabric complemented her hair to perfection, as did the red feathers placed at the back of her head. A ruby necklace that he recognized as his mother’s adorned her neck, and the golden embroidery on the bodice glimmered in the candlelight.

Christian realized belatedly that his mouth was hanging open, and he closed it abruptly.

“At last,” he bit out, trying to mask his desire. “I have been waiting for over twenty minutes. I believe I asked you to be punctual.”

“You said, ‘Do not be late,’ Christian, yet you neglected to tell me when you wished to leave. That is hardly my fault.”

Christian stiffened as his mother chuckled behind him. He handed her the kitten as punishment, but she looked very pleased to take charge of it, which only annoyed him further.

“I see you have made friends with Jack,” Louise noted, sounding pleased.

“I have done nothing of the kind,” Christian replied bitterly. “He climbed up my leg against my will, and I shall evict him from the house if he does it again.”

He tugged at his tailcoat, his fingers flexing against the dark fabric. He had worn a deep red ensemble that evening, and it became clear to him now that it had been a subconscious decision to match his wife. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror above the fireplace and frowned at his cravat, which, despite his valet’s attempts, always seemed askew.

He tugged at it, tucking it more neatly around his neck, before turning to his wife. He crossed the room toward her, his frown still in place.

“You make a most handsome couple, I must say,” his mother said warmly.

“Thank you, Sabine,” Louise replied brightly.

Christian offered her his arm, irrationally vexed that the woman he had married for convenience’s sake seemed to have befriended his mother.

“Are we leaving, or will you prattle on for the whole night?” he huffed.

Louise rolled her eyes at him before she took his arm, and he led her out of the house.

As they approached the waiting carriage, Christian nodded to the driver. The footman opened the door, and they both climbed inside.

The small confines of the carriage only made things worse for him. Being mere inches from Louise, her scent surrounding him, his length hardened almost immediately.

He took a deep breath to try and calm himself, but that only made him ever more conscious of her scent. Louise looked utterly unaffected as the carriage took off, staring out the window, her eyes catching the light from the oil lamps, her skin aglow with a soft golden hue.

“Were you late on purpose?” Christian asked peevishly.

“Certainly,” she replied, surprising him. “I enjoy any excuse to rile you up, did you not realize that?”

Her raised eyebrow and sarcastic expression did not help his state in the least, and he looked away, grinding his teeth and trying to get a grip on himself.

“What were you speaking to your mother about?” she asked.

“Marcus,” he replied shortly. “There is no news of your best friend, so you needn’t ask me any more questions about him.”

Louise had the nerve to laugh at him, and he shot her a withering look which only made her laugh louder.

Louise could not understand Christian’s jealousy of Marcus, but she was not too proud to admit that she enjoyed it. Never had a man been so possessive of her that even the mention of another would send him into fits of anger, but it seemed she had found just that with Christian.

She watched the tell-tale vein in his temple throb.

“I am sorry that you have not heard more,” she said, her amusement fading. “What is the next course of action?”

He scowled. “I do not know.”

“If his carriage was found empty, are they making inquiries in the surrounding area to discover what might have occurred?”

Christian’s frown eased a little. “I told the constable to do as much, but he seemed so apathetic. I believe he was more concerned about returning home for his supper than finding my brother.”

“Is there no one else we can ask? Can you not pay a man to find him for you?”

Christian scoffed. “I will find him, and then you can be reunited and spend all your time together. Is that what you prefer?”

“I certainly prefer him to you—I have made no secret of that,” she quipped.

He scowled at her. “Marcus is far from perfect,” he muttered.

“And you are, Your Grace?” Louise taunted.

She knew better than to needle him in such a manner, but he was in a funk, and it was ruining her good mood. She loved dancing and had been looking forward to enjoying herself.

Christian turned to face her, his green eyes shimmering in the low light of the lamp overhead. “I have never claimed to be such, nor would I.”

“I am most pleased to hear it,” she said, laying the fan on her lap. “I have explained my friendship with Marcus to you already. I do not understand why you find it so provoking.”

“I do not find it provoking . I merely think that it is unseemly for a lady to be so well acquainted with a gentleman who is not her husband. It is hardly surprising that I assumed there was more between you.”

“As you said, I was biding my time for a high-ranking match, and here you are,” she replied venomously, her anger spiking again at his prior implication that she would use Marcus for personal gain.

Christian’s sour mood improved at her irritation, and he relaxed back in his seat. The atmosphere in the carriage changed completely as his gaze darkened with heat, and Louise swallowed thickly.

“I do not remember you complaining when you begged your Duke to touch you, Your Grace, ” he said silkily.

Louise’s cheeks flushed as he leaned across the small space between them, his handsome face inches from her own.

“Indeed, I recall you coming apart for me,” he continued, “on two occasions.” His hands came to rest on either side of her hips. “It makes me wonder how I might finally achieve what I set out to do.” She shivered as his lips quirked up, his eyes glittering in the dim light of the carriage. “How to make you scream my name in ecstasy. I might make a study of it.”

With a jolt, the carriage came to a stop, and Christian leaned back. A smug smile spread across his face as he ran a hand through his hair and smoothed his coat.

Louise snapped open her fan and fluttered it in front of her heated cheeks as he chuckled across from her. The lilting music of the ball drifted into the space between them, and she could hear the chatter as the other guests arrived.

“After you, Duchess,” Christian said softly.

Louise exited the carriage as quickly as she could before she found herself begging him for a second time.