Dukes Are Forever (London Steampunk: The Blue Blood Conspiracy #5)(5)

"Going to do? Why, nothing. Malloryn despises me."

"That is not the Adele I know. She would be taking no prisoners. You should seduce him."

"The Adele you know would prefer not to have her husband laugh in her face."

"Did he seem disgusted when he realized what had occurred?"

"Well, no. He seemed slightly horrified he may have hurt me. Then he lectured me about how dangerous it was. And then he realized the queen was under attack, and what happened may as well not have happened. I assure you, it hasn't cost him a moment of sleep."

Lena frowned.

"I told you: The man feels nothing." Adele shook her head. "You're my dearest friend. I know you want only the best for me, but trust me... there is no hope my husband desires me."

"Was he aroused at the—?"

"Yes, but I assume that was a product of the circumstances. Most blue bloods do rouse when their bloodlust rises."

Alex gave a whimpering cry, screwing up his face as he gummed at Lena's chain.

"Well, I still think there's a chance you could—"

Alex promptly cast up his accounts all over his mother's gown. Adele jerked her skirts out of the way in surprise.

"Oh, Alex." Lena gave an exasperated sigh, staring at the state of her gown. She rolled her eyes and transferred him to her other shoulder as the baby settled, evidently feeling much better.

"Is he ill?"

"No. He's a great big glutton, is what he is." Lena patted his back gently, her gaze softening as she looked at him. "It happens occasionally after he's fed."

That sounded ghastly.

And yet her friend still smiled. Adele couldn't quite understand it. "Perhaps I'd best take my leave and let you change. I've dwelled here long enough."

And she recognized the look in Lena's eyes.

Her friend was not going to change the subject, not anytime soon.

"Oh, it's no problem at all," Lena replied, raising her voice. "Nurse?"

The door opened, and the nursemaid appeared. "Yes, mum?"

"Could you please see Master Alex to the nursery? I believe he needs changing. I'll be along as soon as I've cleaned myself up."

The nursemaid bobbed a curtsy. "Yes, mum."

"I should go," Adele murmured. "Thank you for the tea and scones."

Lena pointed a finger at her even as she bent to try and clean her hem. "Don't think I'll forget about this. I intend to pursue the topic."

"Excellent." Adele fetched her hat from the table where she'd left it. "The very thought of my husband desiring me should prove humorous, if nothing else."

And the idea of seducing him?

Well, that was simply ludicrous.





Adele stood on the portico of Lena's home and stared blindly at the gardens, still picturing the baby's face in her mind and the look of adoration on his face.

I want one.

What an utterly ridiculous instinct. Somehow she breathed out a laugh.

"Fuck whomever you want, Adele, but don't bring any bastards home to my house. There are limits...."

Which meant the only way she would ever conceive a child was with her husband.

And that was never going to happen.

Imagine even presenting Malloryn with such a proposition? She could almost picture the look of horror on his face, and despite herself, a faint smile tugged at her lips.

"Aren't you maudlin today," she muttered to herself, shaking off the ill mood. "Feeling sorry for yourself is the least effective use of one's time. You made this decision, after all. And you can bear the consequences."

Still smiling at Malloryn's imagined horror, Adele took her leave, walking into the brisk London air.

Maybe she'd ask him for a child one day, just to see his eyes pop out of his head.

She'd wait though, until his disinterest in her was really beginning to prickle....

The taste of coal smog thickened the air, and she hurried to her carriage, clapping a hand to her black-feathered hat as the footman handed her up into it.

In the gloom of the interior, it took her a moment to realize she wasn't alone as the door slammed shut.





Chapter 3





Speak of the devil and he shall appear....

Adele clapped a hand to her chest in surprise as a pair of long legs stretched out in front of her, leading up to an opened newspaper.

She would have gasped, but the golden signet ring on the man's finger was very familiar. She watched it every morning as her husband idly tapped the breakfast table whilst he flicked through the daily news, much as he was now.

"Your Grace," she blurted. "What are you doing here?"

The newspaper lowered, a pair of cool gray eyes assessing her.

"I was in the area," Malloryn announced in the clipped tones he usually owned when speaking with her. "The coachman assured me you wouldn't be long."

"Did you wish to speak with me?"

"Not particularly." He rapped his cane on the roof. "Carry on, James."

It shouldn't have stung as much as it did. She looked out the window as the carriage lurched into action. "I'm sorry I took the coach then."