Laurie Benson - An Uncommon Duke

‘You’re probably right, but I have a feeling I am not the only one who lives for excitement.’

* * *

When Gabriel returned home that evening, having more excitement in his life was the last thing on his mind. As he handed over his hat, gloves and walking stick, he noted the sound of laughter drifting into the entrance hall from somewhere else in the house. He raised a questioning brow to his butler.

Bennett cleared his throat. ‘It is Wednesday,’ he said as a way of explanation.

How could he have forgotten? It was the one day of the week that he and Olivia had agreed she could entertain at home and he would stay out. It had been a long time since he had been in his London residence this early on a Wednesday evening. All this pressure of finding out who was behind the assassination attempt must have caused the normal function of his brain to shut down.

He would go to his study and have a dinner tray sent there. But as he stepped down the hall, a distinct deep male laugh could be heard coming from the private dining room a few doors away. Gabriel moved to the open doorway and peered inside.

His wife was seated at the head of the table, with Andrew to her right. They were leaning close to one another, deep in what appeared to be congenial conversation. It was the very picture of a warm family moment, something Gabriel had not experienced with his wife in many years.

He had never looked to marry for love. Love was a bunch of sentimental drivel some of his classmates at Cambridge would drone on about, usually referring to a local girl who could lead them around by their passions. Thank goodness he and Olivia had been sensible enough not to seek that in a marriage. They’d had a comfortable friendship based on a mutual respect for each other’s opinions and interests. That, and the fact that he’d wanted to sink deep inside of her from the moment he saw her, told him this was the woman he needed to marry. She had been the ideal wife for him, until his responsibilities got in the way.

Leaning against the doorframe, he watched her smile widen at something Andrew said. That dimple that he hadn’t seen in ages graced her cheek and the urge to interrupt the quaint domestic scene overtook him.

‘I was unaware you would be dining here tonight,’ he called out, crossing his arms.

Olivia’s startled expression was a contrast to Andrew’s friendly greeting. Approaching her side, Gabriel raised an inquisitive brow at his brother while he snatched a grape off his wife’s plate.

She watched him bring it to his lips. ‘I didn’t expect you to be home.’

It was the first thing she had said to him since he’d stormed out of her room the night before. He was surprised by her attempt at civility, but then again, they were not alone.

‘It is my house,’ he replied, taking another grape. There were so many emotions running through him that it was difficult to grab on to one. His only thought was to wonder for the first time what exactly happened in his house on Wednesday evenings.

‘Would you care to join us?’ she asked, sounding as if she was chewing on glass.

Gabriel took a seat to her left instead of his customary chair, which was down the table across from hers. She ran her gaze over him with a wrinkled brow and Gabriel refused to consider why he felt an odd desire to stay near the warm sense of companionship. He motioned for a glass of claret from his footman. ‘So, what had you both so entertained when I walked in?’

Andrew shrugged and looked to Olivia. Gabriel raised his brows, waiting for her response, plucking yet another grape from her plate.

Her nostrils flared. ‘Frederick, please bring another place setting for His Grace,’ she said, glaring at Gabriel throughout her entire request.

After the words she’d spat at him last night, he found perverse pleasure in annoying her today. The footman was about to turn to enter the butler’s pantry when Gabriel stopped him with a raise of his hand. ‘No need, Frederick.’

Frederick turned back to resume his place by the door.

‘Nonsense. Frederick, the setting.’

The footman turned again towards the pantry.

‘Frederick, I said that will not be necessary. The Duchess’s plate holds just what I desire.’

The footman once again turned back to face the table, but this time instead of keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead, he watched Olivia.

‘Perhaps you are mistaken,’ she said, taking the last three grapes and popping them into her mouth in rapid succession. She narrowed her eyes at Gabriel, challenging him to take anything else from her plate.

He reached across and broke off a small wedge of cheese. It was a childish thing to do, but he could not resist the impulse. ‘I do believe you never did say what the two of you were discussing when I walked in,’ he said to her.

‘No, I do not believe we did.’ She lifted her plate and Frederick jumped to take it. ‘I know you are a very busy man. We do not wish to keep you from your business.’

Gabriel took a long drink and looked between his wife and Andrew. ‘My business can wait.’ He didn’t like the feeling of being pushed to the side—of not being privy to something that was going on under his roof.

He felt like an outsider.

He caught his brother’s eye. ‘I’m surprised to find you here.’

‘I don’t see why. I enjoy Olivia’s company.’

‘Andrew came here looking for you. I invited him to join me for dinner and he kindly accepted,’ Olivia broke in, glaring at Gabriel like she wanted to throttle him.

The gilded candelabra resting on the table a few feet away appeared to be very heavy and Gabriel wondered if he should have one of the footmen remove it.

‘I take it your presence here means your health has improved,’ Gabriel said to Andrew, wishing he could grab his brother and drag him out of the dining room without causing suspicion. If he had searched Gabriel out, there was a reason.

Andrew narrowed his gaze at Gabriel and leaned forward. ‘It has. Even though our mother is under the assumption I was suffering from the effects of too much ale. Now where do you suppose she acquired that notion?’

It took great effort for Gabriel not to sputter his wine back into his glass. He could not, however, hold back his smile. ‘I have absolutely no idea.’

Andrew nodded and fell back into his chair. ‘Just as I thought.’

‘I still cannot believe you were set upon by thieves on your way here,’ Olivia broke in. ‘I find it astonishing they would consider attacking you with your intimidating size. Hopefully, the bruises on your hand will heal quickly.’

Andrew shot a quick glance at Gabriel before looking at the knuckles of his right hand and flexing his fingers into a fist. ‘I’m sure the bruises will be gone in a day or two.’ He smiled warmly at Olivia. ‘You are very kind to be so concerned.’

‘Nonsense,’ she replied in earnest. ‘I wish you would let me send you home with some healing salve.’

‘I will be fine. Stop fussing so. Save your mothering for Nicholas,’ he said reassuringly.

The colour drained from Olivia’s face. The topic of mothering brought back all the horrid events of last night and Gabriel knew she was remembering them as well. He should be angry with her—hell, he had been. She had insulted his honour. But he couldn’t ignore the fact that he was to blame for what she thought of him.

The sight of her in that ridiculously large nightrail had set his blood on fire and made him instantly hard. He knew he would have embarrassed himself if he had managed to get all that fabric off her. It had been so long since they were together. Olivia had the most amazing bottom he had ever seen and over the last five years, four months and eleven days he’d found himself sneaking a glimpse of it whenever her back was to him.