Rescued By a Lady's Love (Lords of Honor, #3) (30 page)

“You are a duke,” she corrected once more, with the scolding adamancy befitting her station as governess. “As such, these things matter.”

He poured a snifter full of brandy and the tinkling chime of crystal touching crystal filled the space. “If I did not know better, Lily, I would suspect you are seeking to be dismissed from your post?” He paused mid-pour and looked up. “Is that it?” Derek winged an eyebrow upward. “Are you looking to be discharged from your responsibilities?” An odd pressure settled in his chest. For when she left, there would be no others to speak with him as though he was any other man.

“No!” Her exclamation bounced off the walls, the urgency in her tone serving as testament to the truth. She wanted to remain here. The tightness in his chest eased and with it went the hatred he’d carried these years; sentiments, which had sustained him, but not comforted.

He poured another glass of brandy and held one out.

“I do not drink spirits.”

He paused. ...
I was a vicar’s daughter...
How innocent she’d been. How trusting. She could never have known the black vileness that was the soul of a gentleman. Men who took their pleasures where they would. Women who desired wealth and power, and craved nothing more than the glossy surface of perfection. Hopeful and trusting, she’d have been no match for a polished rake intent on stealing her virtue. “Spirits are occasionally good for you.” He urged her with his eyes to accept the liquid fortitude.

Darting her tongue out, Lily trailed it over the seam of her lips. She crossed over and then stopped with a foot of space between them. “Do you think because I’m a whore, I should drink spirits and...and...” Patches of red blazed across her cheeks. “And do scandalous things.”

Derek snapped his eyebrows together. “You are no whore,” he bit out, abhorring her self-flagellation. How could she not see the strength of her spirit and her will to survive was what defined her and not the actions she’d been forced to take?

She dropped her gaze to the tips of her bare feet. “But I am,” she whispered. “And you insisting I not speak the words and not speaking them yourself does not make them less true.”

The blazing hearth cast shadows about the room, and danced upon her modest nightshift, rendering it nearly see-through. The sight of her froze him. She stood before him with an ethereal beauty that drew him, that made him forget the monster he’d become. “We all have done things we wished we’d not in order to survive.” It was a lie. Most lords and ladies of the
ton
lived for their pleasures. The realness of life, and the ugliness of it, escaped most of them who dwelled in a fabricated world of glittering perfection. “Take the drink,” he urged and pressed it into her hand.

Lily gripped it with such intensity her knuckles went white. She looked into the amber contents. “Why are you being so nice to me?” Her whispered words reached his ears and into the soul he’d thought long dead. “Why will you not turn me out, when I’m not fit to care for a child?”

“Do you see a beast when you look at me?”

Lily yanked her head up. “No.” The denial exploded from her lips and lit her eyes with fiery emotion “You are no beast.”

“Why?” he said with dry humor. “Half of my face has been burned off, ladies turn in disgust. Even my own mother could not stomach the sight of me. How is that not a beast?”

“You wear the marks of honor for battles you fought.” Her passionate defense lent her words a tremor. “That is what I see.”

Ah, she saw a hero; just as so many were wont to do. Yet, even when the papers had honored those fallen soldiers and the men who’d rushed off to battle Boney’s forces, they’d been less forgiving when those men had returned maimed. Derek swirled the contents of his glass. “You fought your own battles, too, did you not?”

Her frown deepened. Then said, “It is different.”

“Ah, but is it?” He spread his arms wide. “This is how the world sees me and this is how I see myself, and yet you should see differently? Why is that?”

Lily pursed her lips. “Because there is more to a person than their physical perfection. It is the goodness of their soul.”

So she thought her soul dark and long past redemption? A familiar vise tightened once more. “You do not see the beast. You see the man.” He held her gaze with his. “Just as I do not see a whore,” he said quietly. The long, graceful column of her throat moved. “I see a woman and a survivor. And perhaps that is why we two can move along in some harmonious rhythm when I despise all who cross my path, because we are not unlike.”

Her chest rose and fell with the force of her deeply drawn breaths and then, for the first time since he’d stumbled upon her this evening, her bow-shaped lips tipped up, ever so slowly at the corners, with an allure Eve herself could not have rivaled. “Thank you.”

He snorted and waved his drink. “I do not want your thanks.”
I want you... I want to possess your body and soul, binding mine with yours until we heal one another’s brokenness.
His hand shook so badly, liquid splashed over the rim and stained his fingers. He quickly set the snifter down on a nearby table.

Lily held out his handkerchief and the ghost of a smile pulled at his lips. “It is yours,” he murmured.

“Of course,” she said quickly and balled the white cloth in her hand. She stood before him uncertain and doubting. Doubting him and her self-worth and it made him hate his brother all over again.

“Oh, Lily.” Derek scrubbed a hand over his face. “I hate that my brother knew you in ways that only I want to,” he said quietly. She stilled, looking like a skittish colt, one wrong word from bolting. To give his hands something to do, he grabbed his cane and thumped it upon the floor. “And I detest that another used your fear and desperation to take from you as he did. And I despise even more that both of those men knew your lips and the feel of your skin and the lavender scent that belongs to only you.”

Her lower lip quivered and a single teardrop slipped down her cheek. Followed by another. And another. She made to turn, but he shot a hand out, folding his larger fingers about her delicate wrist.

Emotion wadded his throat, making it nearly impossible to draw forth words. “But they did not know
you
. They didn’t truly know you in the ways I do. They knew your body, but they didn’t know the strength of your character or the beauty in your soul. They didn’t touch you in the ways that matter. In that, you belong to only me and I’d have it remain that way.” He braced for the terror of that admission, but instead, there was a freeness that buoyed him, lifted him at last from the darkness he’d been mired in for so long.

I
n the following days, Lily and Derek had settled into a natural, harmonious rhythm. During the day, she was governess to Flora, meeting with him now daily about the girl. He would both listen and ask questions, and in his questioning he revealed a deeper and deeper regard for the child.

During the nights, they sat in a companionable silence within his office, reading and talking. And in those moments, she could make herself believe that this was real. That they could be more.

But how many times had she been prey to rash, impulsive emotion? Twice before, she’d trusted gentlemen who’d promised her security and had ultimately taken everything from her. That recklessness had found her nothing but despair. Wanting Derek as she did, she could not be blinded by this need of him...for him.

Lily stared blankly at her door handle and before her courage flagged, she opened the door and stepped outside. An eerie darkness served as her only companion this night.

In the dead of night, the devil comes to play...

Lily crept down the halls of Derek’s silent townhouse, that haunting warning given her and her siblings by their stern father seemed never more true. The lit sconces cast eerie shadows upon the wall and a shiver worked down her spine. Lily, however, had found the devil came in all shapes and forms, but was invariably a role filled by men. And never were her father’s words truer than they were on this day. Quickening her stride, she hurried down the hall and paused briefly at the servant’s stairs before continuing on. Her bare feet padded silently down the stairs, noiseless.

This was the house she’d imagined entering. Quiet. Devoid of life. No servants underfoot. That was the home she’d imagined, but one that this impressive space had proven altogether untrue. For there was life in Derek and Flora, and servants, loyal and good to the lonely little girl who dwelled in this cheerless home.

And she’d betray them all. Even after she’d bared her soul to him and he’d understood, she would commit this crime against him. Yet the truth remained. With his unquestioning support and forgiveness for her shameful actions all those years ago, he could never forgive what had brought her into this house. Not truly. His friendship with the Marquess of St. Cyr, a man he’d known for years and years, only to sever him from his life, was testament of that. Lily adjusted the box in her arms, the one containing letters of her past and bitter shame stung her throat. She carried about this box with the letters she’d written, as nothing more than a ruse to hide the item she’d steal.

She reached the base of the stairs and shifted her burden. The chill of the hardwood floor stung her feet. Holdsworth’s promise of security and Derek’s visage warred for supremacy. Lily stood with her gaze trained on the door. If she did not do this thing, her life was forfeit.

Lily shoved the door open and stepped out into the corridor. Soundless as the grave, she made her way through the halls. The eyes of his ancestors, memorialized in paintings, followed her with their accusatory, haughty stares. She cast periodic glances up at those bewigged, bejeweled former dukes and duchesses. How long she’d spent despising everyone who’d ever shared the blood of that late duke. Only to find that Derek and Flora were nothing like the two who’d tossed a bag of coin at her feet, without a worry about whether she’d live or die.

Lily came to a stop outside a familiar door; one that had once roused terror. This time, a breathless anticipation ran through her; a hungering to see him. She rapped softly.
Please be in there. Please be here when I need you to be more than ever.
For if he was not, then her being in his private office was a violation of a place he sheltered himself away from hurt.

Silence reigned.

She knocked once more.
Be there. Please...
Except, there was no answer. It was as though the fates taunted her; mocked her with the equal part promise, equal part threat. Lily bit down hard on her lower lip.

...My brother had a taste for fine things...

Her body jerked reflexively as Derek’s whispered words called forth the vile remembrance of the man who’d set her on a path of ruin. Fingers shaking, Lily reached for the door and pressed the handle. Before her courage deserted her, she stepped inside. She quietly closed the door behind her.

Lily blinked several times, giving her eyes a moment to adjust to the hauntingly dark space. She looked to the leather winged back chair and the now empty hearth. Her heart slipped at finding those folds empty of the man who so often occupied them. Setting her box down on the smooth surface of Derek’s desk, Lily cast a glance back at the closed door. Her heart thundered hard in her breast, as she braced for Derek to leap from the shadows with the word “Thief” on his lips. Silence served as her only company. With a deep breath, Lily approached the intricate, revolving case.

I do not have to go forward with this. I could disappear and Derek will likely never remember I was ever here...

A spasm of pain struck her heart.
He will remember. He will remember because he let you inside, when he’d shut the whole world out. And you would betray that gift.
She flinched. His opinions were formed of sugar with nothing more than a cold, London rain to take down that fabricated world. Lily gave her head a disgusted shake.

Before her courage deserted her, she fiddled with the hidden compartments revealed by Derek. Her fingers trembled so badly, she couldn’t free the inner latch. Then a faint click resonated about the room. The slight sound should have filled her with a sense of gratification. Instead, as she withdrew the magnificent bauble men had fought over, nothing but a hollow emptiness settled in her chest. Lily turned the piece over in her hands. So, this is what she’d sell her honor for...worth far more than those thirty pieces of silver earned by another shameful sinner. Even in the dark, the massive diamond glittered and shimmered.

Lily closed her eyes a moment and then with swift movements, she closed the compartment and deposited the heirloom into her box where it settled with a noisy thump atop those unread letters. She stared emptily down at the notes and diamond. With a soft curse, she snapped the case closed.

It was done.

And yet... Lily lifted the lid once more. And yet, at the same time, nothing was certain.

She didn’t know which man she served—Holdsworth, who’d ruin her for failing to help him or the duke, who’d proven himself to be one who’d not judge her for the mistakes she’d made? A man who’d kissed her with tenderness as though he found her special, when the marks on her soul proved she was anything but.

With lines of right and wrong blurred and melded, she no longer knew what was truly of importance. For so long, she’d been sustained by revenge and survival. In all that time, she’d imagined nothing mattered more than survival. She’d muddled through the mess that was her life with the hope of escaping this cold, emotionless world where she was nothing more than a willing body to a powerful peer. But what life was worth living without honor?

I will not do this....

Lily reached for the diamond tucked inside her case, but froze. The neat stack of notes beside that box gave her pause. Diamond momentarily forgotten, she picked up an ivory note, and turned the thick, folded sheet over in her hands. She lingered a moment on the unfamiliar crest that hinted a powerful peer was the owner of those words. She’d really no place reading Derek’s private notes and, yet, a part deep inside craved information about the solitary man who’d shut himself away from the world. Lily ran her fingertips over the name marked in black ink; the strong, bold strokes belonging to a man. She stole another glance at the door and then shoving aside guilt, opened the note.