Rescued By a Lady's Love (Lords of Honor, #3) (15 page)

With all the time she’d had to consider Holdsworth’s demands, she’d not given a thought to finding such a cherished heirloom. A task made inestimably more difficult by a man who’d quite deliberately ordered her away from an entire wing of his townhouse. The duke’s disinterest in her and Flora would allow her to search out that famed heirloom, locate it, and then be off like the thief in the night she was.

She propped her elbows onto the smooth surface of the vanity. So, why was she not relieved? And grateful, and all things happy that she would escape his notice and attention? Because for some inexplicable reason, she could not rid herself of the thought of him, the Duke of Blackthorne.

Lily sighed and dropped her chin into her palm. She’d have made a dreadful London pickpocket. For, she didn’t have her focus on obtaining that family heirloom and restoring it to Holdsworth. Nor were her thoughts on the ghost of the cad who’d ruined her life with his pretty lies.

Rather, it was the man with his half-beautiful, half-ravaged face. A chill stole through her. Through his crude words and snapping commands, he’d shown himself to be the manner of beast a wise person took care to avoid. She nibbled at her lip. Only that same beast had also granted her a post in his household. He’d done so when any other nobleman would have tossed her out on her backside or made her an indecent offer. Yes, any other gentleman would have wanted the use of her body and nothing more. The momentary spark of desire in the duke’s eye indicted he wanted her...but instead, he had offered her respectability. That selfless offering made him more than a duke or monster—it made him a man of honor. A man capable of good and that was more heady than any kiss or touch.

A groan escaped her. “You are a fool,” she whispered into the quiet. How many times would she make mountains out of the mist with her romantic spirit? That spirit she’d believed long since dead. She’d do well to avoid the duke and his dangerous pull, not because of his surly attitude or wounds, but because she was no longer that sort of woman.

Though his clear orders for her to avoid his office at all costs indicated he wanted nothing to do with her, he stirred feelings inside her that she could not sort out.

She should be equal parts grateful and relieved over his icy indifference. There was a coldness to the Duke of Blackthorne’s soul that could freeze the Thames.

So why was she not fearful or relieved? Instead, a greater unease came from this enigmatic hold he had which made him far more dangerous than any of the Holdsworths of the world.

As such, she’d closeted herself in her borrowed rooms and given no thought to the diamond or her future. Yet, sitting as she’d been with nothing but her own contemplative self for company, guilt had crept in. For years, she’d not given consideration to anything but her own survival and what little semblance of happiness she could eek out of her lonely existence.

Even the task that had driven her into this dark household had been fueled by that selfishness.

Now, she thought of him. Filled with restlessness, she pushed up from the narrow vanity seat and walked the length of these new quarters. White draperies hung over the floor-length windows, a white satin coverlet adorned the bed, and a white Aubusson carpet muted the fall of her footsteps. Lily stopped beside the hearth and ran her fingers over the cold marble. By all intents and purposes the brightly decorated room should have been nauseatingly cheerful. Instead, it possessed an eerie, haunting quality of a place that had known loss and of which no cheer lived, nor would ever dwell.

She recalled Flora’s words about the duke being shut away. Had he truly made himself a prisoner in these dark walls, content to live alone, in the shadows? What a tragic way to be. Then, having been tucked away as she’d been, was she truly any less alone and dead inside than the duke?

“Enough,” she gritted out, and dug her fingers into her temples to blot out his visage. Forcibly shoving aside all fascination with the brooding duke, she instead fixed on something far safer—his disregard for Flora, a child entrusted to his care. In failing to enumerate his expectations and responsibilities for the girl, the new Duke of Blackthorne had demonstrated the same disregard held by all gentlemen toward those women, young and old, whose care they
should
see to.

Annoyance spiraled through her and Lily chose to feed that far safer sentiment. That made him not this brokenly beautiful figure who’d invaded her thoughts, but a man, just like all the others. Tired of selfish noblemen, Lily spun on her heel. Determination fueling her steps, she marched to the door and wrenched it open. Gaze trained forward, she stomped down the corridor, made her way downstairs, and came to a stop.

The butler, Harris, stood at the foot of the stairs. His cheeks were their familiar ashen hue. Perhaps that was the man’s perpetual color. “M-may I be of a-assistance, Mrs. Benedict?” he stammered as she descended the sweeping staircase.

She inclined her head. “I’d like to speak with His Grace regarding my responsibilities.” Lily stepped around him and continued on the path to the duke’s office.

“His Grace?” Harris called after her and she turned around.

The butler collided against her back and then shot his hands out. He swiftly steadied her. “Beg pardon.” He cleared his throat. “His Grace? As in the duke.” He continued as though he’d not missed a proverbial beat.

In a bid for humor, she arched an eyebrow. “Is there another?” She made to step around him.

Harris matched her movements, effectively blocking her path. “There is not.”

“What?”

“You asked if there was another duke and there is not.”

The man spoke with such seriousness she peered at him for a trace of humor. And found none. “I know, Harris.” She paused and then said gently, “I was merely jesting.”

“Jesting?” he repeated. For the man’s shock, she may as well have announced her intentions to avail herself of the duke’s silver.

Heavens, what would Harris say if he were to discover her actual intentions to abscond with the family’s jewels? He’d likely expire at her feet, in that case. “Yes, jesting. Never tell me,” she said dryly. “The duke does not permit expressions of amusement and mirth?”

The butler’s shoulders sagged. “He does not.” He wrinkled his brow. “His Grace prefers his home be silent.”

She stilled and stared unblinkingly back. The duke preferred his home silent? “What?”

Harris gave a vigorous nod. “Nor does he welcome visitors.” He gave her a pointed, “return-above stairs-this-instant” look.

Which she
pointedly
ignored. “Well, I am not a visitor.” At his furrowed brow, she smiled. “I am a servant in his employ, charged with caring for his niece.” Lily took a step left, but undeterred by her flirtatious grin; the resolute butler placed himself in her path once more.

“And he specifically does not welcome visitors in the corridor outside his office, at this hour.”

Curiosity stirred; the first welcome emotion outside the fear and uncertainty to dog her these seven years. She opened her mouth but the butler frowned that question into silence. No, she’d expect Harris wouldn’t welcome, accept, or answer any questions about his new employer. The hard set to his jaw indicated that for his ashen pallor and stammering words, there was a good deal of courage to him. Though she suspected that courage was born of fear in angering his master. Alas, Harris, His Grace, and the devil still did not know the level of her courage. “I daresay my hiring merits a meeting to go over my obli—”

“No.”

“Or—”

“No. Mr. Davies, the duke’s man-of-affairs sees to all of that.”

Well
. She sighed. “Very well.”

As if she’d given him a stay of execution, his eyes slid closed. When he opened them, relief seeped from their brown depths. “You are to wait for your summons from Mr. Davies.” That pronouncement should not shock her. After all, lords and ladies had little to do with servants, and a governess was really just another member of the household staff.

The fact the Duke of Blackthorne ceded all control to his man of business made him more like than unlike all those other slothful lords. If that was the care he showed for his niece, then the girl would be ruined for her likely fat dowry and ducal connection before she’d even made her Come Out.

“Very well, Harris.” Lily inclined her head in acknowledgement.

“Do you require any further assistance?”

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from pointing out he’d been very little help thus far. Lily gave another slight toss of her curls and smiled softly up at him. “No, that is all, Harris. Thank you,” she purred.

The space filled with his audible swallow. Harris dipped his gaze lower to the loose black curls draped over her shoulder. Bloody inconvenient stubborn tresses. Who knew they’d have served a purpose. Not any purpose that was good. But still, a purpose nonetheless.

She dipped her head. “I’ll return to my rooms and then seek out Lady Flora.” And yet,
another
lie.

Harris gave a jerky nod. “O-of course, Mrs. Benedict.” A lie he believed as easily as if she’d held out the apple in the Garden of Eden.

With a murmured goodbye, Lily started up the stairs. She stole a glance over her shoulder and scanned the bold, marble space. Finding Harris gone, she readjusted her direction and started down the stairs, taking them two at a time, and then darted down the forbidden corridor. “Does he think he is a dragon and this is his lair?” she muttered.

The faintest, muffled laughter echoed her words. Heart hammering, Lily stopped mid-stride. She skimmed her gaze over the darkened halls in search of her charge. Only the shadows dancing upon the walls served as her company. Before Harris returned and found she disobeyed his orders, she quickened her steps. To kill the unease rolling through her, she struggled to drag forth the face of the blackguard who’d ruined her with the promise of more.

Instead, it blurred and melded so all she could see was a strikingly beautiful, scarred visage of another.

She reached the end of the corridor and came to a jerky stop. Unease roiling in her belly, Lily concentrated on her own breathing. The pale blue silk wallpaper. Anything but on the rash decision she’d made once upon a lifetime ago as the foolish vicar’s daughter with stars in her eyes and dreams of love in her heart, that had forever marred her future.

She trailed a palm over the wallpaper, and then raised her gaze upward to the gold sconce directly above. Following that elaborate gilt piece, she then looked back down the hall to the intermittent matching sconces. With wooden steps, she continued down the next hall.

In her connection to George, this place had been destined to be her home. Just not in the way she’d imagined. Through the dreams she’d carried of life with the late duke, never had it been about the fine porcelain vases and the army of servants. Rather, it had been about the need to love and be loved in return. How quick she was, a naïve girl, to believe a rake’s lies. Her mouth twisted up in a sad smile.

“You goddamn, weak fool.” The thunderous shout bounced off the plaster and Lily started.

The honorable intentions that had set her in search of the duke receded. She swallowed audibly as Harris’ warning danced around her head. Perhaps she’d wait for the duke’s man of business, after all. “Coward,” she silently mouthed, and turned to go. For cowardice oftentimes promised survival.

“You are a useless, pathetic excuse of a man.” The duke’s gravelly voice emerged from around the corridor in a harsh whisper that was more powerful than any of his previous bellowing.

It brought her to a slow halt.

She could be the coward and ignore those degrading words hurled at some other poor, fearful soul. She could continue on, unseen by the duke and the man he berated, and none would be the wiser. The butler would be pleased in thinking she’d dutifully attended his orders. And all would be well.

Rather, all would be well for her. Not, however, for that poor servant and stranger being so brutally admonished by the duke. Feelings of commiseration for the man demeaned with words kept her here when fear said flee.
Just leave. I have my post. What he does now matters naught...

“You’ve no purpose in life.”

That vile charge snapped her into movement. She’d been so disdained by his family, even her own. She could not stand as silent witness to another person’s shame. Fueled by a healthy fury, Lily raced around the corner. “Who do you think you are to speak...?” Her words trailed off and she came to an abrupt stop. She scanned the hall for the poor servant whose rescue she’d come to.
Empty
. “There is no one here,” she said to herself. Then her gaze lit on the Duke of Blackthorne lying prone on the floor. Under her scrutiny, his unscarred cheek flushed red.

And then shock slammed into her, sucking the air from her lungs. “You were speaking to yourself,” she breathed. All the earlier annoyance and fury that had sent her charging down here, without regard for Holdsworth’s plans and her future, faded.

As one who’d spent years despising herself, she recognized the glimmer of self-loathing in His Grace’s eye. Pity pulled at her heart as, in this frozen instant, a kindred connection between them was born.

The duke swept his black eyelashes lower in a menacing manner. Only an austere duke of this man’s powerful frame could manage to both look and be in complete control, even sprawled upon the floor as he was. “What do you think you are doing here?” he demanded in clipped tones, slightly breathless. From his exertions? Or the shock of her presence?

Staring down at him, sympathy continued to fill her breast. “I am so sorry,” she said softly when her heart resumed a normal beat. For more than her mere intrusion. Rage flashed in his eyes; a man who heard her words of pity and would burn her with his glare if he could, because of it. Unnerved by the extended silence, she shifted back and forth on her feet. Suddenly wishing she’d thought better of disobeying his orders, she cleared her throat. “I did not see you—” Her lips pulled in a grimace as she realized belatedly what she said.