Page 60 of Her Duke Next Door
“Why not?” he laughed without humor, almost bitterly and self-deprecating. “Everybody else does. I removed myself from London because of their gossip. It is why I cannot remain in Livingston Castle for very long. Do you not think me guilty of those things? They say a guilty man runs from his crime.”
Her heart ached deeply as she stroked his cheek. “Because I understand what it is like to lose a spouse in this way and the need to leave any reminders behind,” she told him. “My former husband, Patrick, was a bland, awful man. He criticized me, he disliked anything I did, and he did not care for Eloise at all. He would leave her crying for hours if it meant he did not have to acknowledge her as his own.”
She shifted back and pulled her hands back to her sides. “He grew obsessed with Anne. He stalked her, sent her many letters, and tried to sabotage her prospects for a suitor. It was only when she was aided by Alexander, to be protected, that Patrick’s obsessive nature was revealed. He tried to attack my sister once and I have felt guilt for everything she endured because of him ever since. Patrick died after that. Ever since, his ghost has followed me on every street of London, in his heir, in Anne’s eyes when she grows too quiet for too long. I know what it is to not be able to bear those whispers, Dominique.”
Dominique glanced at her, devastation in his eyes. “Did he ever… Attack you? Force you?”
Mary shook her head. “No,” she said. “He barely cared for me at all. I thought I loved him but I have come to realize that I never did.”
He bent his head closer to her. “What made you realize that, Mary?”
The words—the confession that she was starting to realize—died on her tongue. She was not bold enough to say them. She only pulled away, turning her face so he could not read her forlorn expression. “I just… Have realized.”
But Dominique was determined to not let her keep her gaze on the river before them for too long. He grasped her face in his hand, handling her roughly with determination and passion, and still, she remained feeling safe beneath his intense gaze. “You aremywife, Mary. You are wanted and desired byme. That coward of a man never once deserved you.”
His voice was almost a growl as he declared it before he kissed her deeply.
You are rightMary thought, as she tumbled into his kiss.However, I have been burning my other secrets that you cannot know about.
ChapterSeventeen
“Dammit, they must be here somewhere!” Dominique exclaimed. “I wore them last week for the theater! Have you checked all the closets?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Thomas Bernard, his valet, said.
“And by every door? Every room?”
“Everywhere, Your Grace. You do have your other boots.”
“I suppose another pair will have to do,” he sighed, as Thomas straightened his coat.
“I will go and have another look, Your Grace.”
“Thank you.”
The valet walked out, his hair slightly untidy, clearly from the stress of finding Dominique’s boots. Dominique groaned as he sat down on the end of his bed. He did not even wish to attend the gentleman’s club but Mary had suggested it. After he had shared the story of his past with her she had encouraged him to be less reclusive, saying it might be good for them both to get back into London more often.
“I should like to see my wife worrying over a woman’s afternoon tea because she cannot find her good shawl,” he muttered. Just as he decided he would cancel his social outing altogether, he heard a giggle from the doorway.
“Katie?” he asked, finding his daughter peeking her head around the doorway. “Whatever are you doing?”
“Nothing, Papa,” she said, her voice high and innocent. “I heard you were looking for your good boots. I asked Bernard and he said he could not find them.ButI am ever so clever, Papa! I know where your boots are.”
Her smile was ever so smug, and he immediately did not trust her. He couldn’t help but smile, though. “Is that right? And do tell me, my darling, where are they?”
“I saw Mary take them to her room,” Katie said. “Her maid said she would shine both of your shoes after the theater last week. Anyway, I am out now with Eloise and Bernie. We are going to pick some flowers. They wish to show me how to make a wreath like the one they made me for my birthday! Is that all right, Papa?”
“Of course, darling,” he said. “Have a good afternoon.”
He thought—rather, he hoped—that he was becoming more accustomed to being a better father.
As Katie skipped off, he was not entirely convinced about the location of his boots. After all, his daughter had played many tricks on him, but there was no harm in checking his wife’s bedroom. He ventured down the hall, to Mary’s room. It was so strange to him to think of it as that: Mary’s bedroom. For so many years it had housed a woman who had despised him, and been disloyal to him. Now…
Now Dominique was quite sure he was falling for his wife.
He knocked on her door. “Mary? May I come in?”
There was no answer, so he tried again. When he knocked a second time, the door opened beneath his knuckles. Mary was not in her room but his boots indeed were. They were right beneath the window, next to her shoes from their outing last week. He strode into the room and picked them up but as he did, he heard a door creak open.
