“I’m not afraid,” she answered honestly. “I think I’d like to rest for a while, though. The tea isn’t sitting so well after all…”
He looked up at her with wide eyes. “Have you need of a bucket?”
Elizabeth laughed.
Imagine, having the Duke of Hadminster offering to fetch me a bucket to be sick in…
“What’s funny about that?” he asked, though he was chuckling as well.
“Nothing,” she said, still laughing quietly. “I’m fine, really.”
“Oh Gerard, thank goodness,” the Duchess said, appearing in the doorway with Lady Rosaline. “I was in such a hurry to get the servants organized for interviews that it didn’t occur to me that we would be leaving Miss Peaton alone.”
The Duchess swept into the room. She looked lovely as ever, the concern on her face only making her more beautiful. She came next to the bed and placed her hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder.
What have I done to earn the care of these people?
“I think it best that she not be left alone until we find out exactly what happened.” She looked down at Elizabeth. “Not to make you feel like you are under armed guard or anything like that. Just…I think we would all feel better knowing we were keeping a good eye on you.”
“I really hate to be a bother.” Elizabeth was overcome with gratitude for the friendship and compassion of such a well-regarded lady.
“It’s no bother at all, I’m sure,” Lady Rosaline broke in. “We’re all most disturbed that such a thing could happen at Stonehill.”
Elizabeth looked back at Gerard. He had not dropped her hand since the others came into the room.
“I’ll stay by your side. Until the culprit is brought to justice, I won’t let you out of my sight,” he said gently, kissing her hand again as though there was no one else in the room.
“You’re all too kind,” Elizabeth said, her eyesight going blurry with sudden tears that pricked at her eyes.
I must be tired. How silly, to cry like a frightened child in front of everyone.
But no one else seemed to find her tears foolish. Gerard reached up to brush them from her cheek and the Duchess crouched down to wrap her arm around Elizabeth’s shoulders.
“Perhaps some fresh air would help. Can you stand?” Gerard asked after a moment.
“Oh, yes. It’s a beautiful day,” Lady Rosaline agreed.
“Let’s get you settled on a chaise lounge in the garden,” the Duchess said.
Elizabeth just laughed weakly. With such loving attention from these three, she couldn’t have any fear that she wouldn’t recover quickly. She’d been very ill before in her life, but she’d never been nursed by more enthusiastic caregivers. “Yes, that sounds lovely. I believe I can walk, if you help me.”
The sun was tauntingly bright that day, illuminating the fragrant garden with a light so pure and cheerful it was easy to forget that someone had tried to kill her. Elizabeth was settled into a chair under an arbor of roses and wrapped in a silken shawl that the Duchess supplied. Her fingers traced the floral pattern on the wrap. Other than the gown she had been lent for the ball, it was the finest piece of clothing she had ever worn.
“I’m quite overcome,” Elizabeth said, as the others settled themselves in other chairs or on the ground around her. “I’ve been sicker than this before, but never so spoiled.”
Everyone seemed intent upon filling the silence with pleasant chatter. Elizabeth leaned her head back against the chair and closed her eyes against the shining sun, listening to the lilting voices of the ladies. She let the sound of their conversation wash over her without really listening to any of it.
She felt a touch on her hand, and opening her eyes, she saw that Gerard was looking at her worriedly.
“Is it too loud?” he asked.
She smiled weakly, not affirming but not denying either. Gerard seemed to take this as a command and in his well-bred and polite way, convinced the ladies to continue their conversation inside. As the ladies moved away, Elizabeth could focus instead on the sound of the breeze rustling through the leaves. Gerard sat silently beside her.
“It’s a shame I feel so rotten. You know, it’s been ages since I had a real day off of work. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. But the chance to just sit…and not need to do anything…I don’t want to take it for granted,” she said after a long, pleasant silence.
“You shouldn’t need to wait until you are deathly ill to listen to the breeze,” he answered gently.
“Hmm,” she hummed in a noncommittal way. A Duke couldn’t be expected to understand the imperative of constant work to survive.
How very different we are.
“I know how it feels,” he continued. “To feel as though you are constantly running.”
“Do you?”
His smile made him look young, bashful almost. She remembered the way that the maids had spoken of him when he first arrived. How he was mean and cold, but beautiful. How wrong they were.
Am I different now, or do they just not look closely enough?
“You don’t believe me,” he said. “How could a spoiled gentleman like myself, a Duke, with servants and fine clothes and not enough responsibility, possibly know how it feels?”
“I didn’t mean that,” Elizabeth said.
“It’s all right. You’re right, I have been spoiled. My grief over Christine has been, as others have said, self-indulgent. I put everything on hold until the killer was found, but as the years went by it became an excuse. A reason to spin my wheels ceaselessly without really doing anything.” He still had his hand on hers, but he was looking up at the overhanging tree branches and the light that filtered through them.
“And now?” she urged.
“And now…” he sighed. “I feel awake. Or like I have returned from a long journey.”
“I hope they find who did it,” Elizabeth said, giving his hand a quick squeeze.
“Me, too, Elizabeth. Me, too. But I find that it is no longer the most important thing in my mind. I’ve been given something new to care about.” He gave her a meaningful look and raised her hand to his lips. “To care for.”
Oh, say my name again. Miss Peaton rings like a summons bell in my mind, but you say Elizabeth as if it were a prayer.
“I don’t deserve it,” she said.
“Nor do I,” he chuckled. “And yet, here we are.”
“Ah, Your Grace.” The familiar voice of Dorothy called from behind them. She approached carrying a tray of what looked like porridge and tea. “Lady Rosaline and the Duchess are asking after you, and I have been sent to take up the guard, as it were,” she winked at Elizabeth.
“I see,” Gerard got to his feet reluctantly. “My sister calls,” he said with a wry grin to Elizabeth. She nodded, and as he turned to walk back to the house, she let her eyes linger on his form as he went.
Dorothy set the tray across Elizabeth’s lap. Looking down at the bowl of porridge, her stomach turned and she wasn’t sure if she would be able to eat it.
“How are you feeling?” Dorothy asked, sitting close to her.
“Quite ill, I’m afraid. Though I’m sure I will be feeling better soon.”
“The more you eat, the sooner you’ll feel better. If it’s anything like regular old food sickness, you’ve just got to move it through your system.”
Elizabeth sighed, knowing she was correct but not wanting to hear it. Grudgingly, she picked up the spoon and tried a bite.
“The detective has been hanging around all this time interviewing all of the staff. He seems to think that one of the servants did it!” Dorothy said, leaning forward excitedly. Elizabeth swallowed with some difficulty.
“How absurd,” she said. “Why should anyone here want me ill?”
“Want you dead, more like.”
Elizabeth scoffed. “I don’t know, Dorothy. It seems everyone has decided that this was some sort of calculated attempt on my life, but I just cannot see why that should be. Perhaps it was
merely an accident.”
“Perhaps someone has gotten wind of your relationship with the Duke. Perhaps someone finds it improper. Has he proposed yet, by the by?”
Elizabeth blinked. Dorothy’s lips broke into a wide smile.
“He has, hasn’t he? Have you accepted him?”
“No, I haven’t. I mean, no, he hasn’t asked.”
“But you believe that he means to?” Dorothy asked.
“I…perhaps. Yes, I think so. I don’t really know, it’s not as if I have experience with this sort of thing.” She took another bite of the porridge, finding it not as repugnant as she had first thought.
“Well, when he does, you might consider convincing him to take you away from London posthaste. It seems that the city is rife with danger for anyone whom the Duke of Hadminster takes to be his bride.”
Elizabeth chuckled softly. “You know how I adore you, but you read too many novels, Dorothy.”
Chapter Nineteen
Gerard wanted to be back in Elizabeth’s room. A few days had passed since the poisoning and nothing had changed, except that Elizabeth was growing steadily healthier and the tension in the manor was growing steadily thicker. He tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair as Rosaline tinkered on the piano.
“Well, Gerard,” Jonathan said, looking up from the newspaper he’d been reading. “I must say it at last. I really must put up at least some sort of resistance to you trying to take away from us the best governess in London.”
Bridget looked up from her embroidery. “He’s teasing, Gerard,” she said with a smile. “Thomas is a bright and pleasant boy. I’m certain that another governess will find him an easy student. Truly, Miss Peaton’s talents are wasted here.”
Rosaline had stopped playing, and now looked on the others with a mirthful expression. “Would you take her away, Gerard? We’ve so enjoyed having you in London again. Perhaps you should move back permanently.”
Gerard blinked, surprised to find himself suddenly the center of attention. Three sets of expectant eyes watched him as he stammered for words.
“Actually, I have been thinking…we’d all hoped, I believe, that a break would come in the case quickly. But as the days go by it seems like it is turning out to be a repeat of…of the last one. I know that it has been a strain on the household to have Miss Peaton under surveillance, and I know that I have already overstayed my welcome here. It troubles me to be a burden on you.”
“Gerard don’t be silly, we—” Bridget broke in, but he interrupted her gently.
“I want to stay, in the hopes that I can make myself useful to Detective Collins. But I was considering asking Miss Peaton if she wouldn’t feel safer at Hadminster.”
“But you would stay at Stonehill?” Rosaline asked.
“For a time, at least,” he answered. “To oversee the investigation. Although it was Miss Peaton who was poisoned, I think it’s clear that the lynchpin in these poisonings has been myself. I think the case has better odds of being solved if I stay put, and do not run off to the country again.”
Bridget and Jonathan exchanged glances. “You think she would be content to be separated from you?” Bridget asked.
“For her safety? I think so,” he answered.
“Well, I think it’s a good idea,” Rosaline said. “To get your ladylove to safety and stay behind yourself to face the danger. It’s rather romantic.”
Bridget grinned. “You can try, Gerard, but I predict that you have underestimated Miss Peaton’s bravery and determination to stay at your side. And, if I may speak on my own behalf, I certainly do not wish to hasten her departure, just as she and I were becoming good friends.”
* * *
He had the chance to test his sister’s prediction later that night. Dorothy, being Elizabeth’s closest friend among the servants, had taken up temporary residence in Elizabeth’s room for the nights, to keep an eye on her. When Gerard came to the room to say goodnight, the two women were chatting pleasantly, as if nothing were wrong. He knocked gently on the doorframe.
“I’ll just go bring us up some tea,” Dorothy said to Elizabeth, curtseying politely to the Duke as she ducked out of the room to give them time to say goodnight to one another in privacy.
“I imagine it’s been some time since you’ve been prevailed upon to share your room,” Gerard said, striding forward to take her hand as she sat down on the edge of her bed. He sat next to her.
“Not since the orphanage,” she chuckled softly. “I don’t mind, though, Dorothy is great fun. Like a sister.”
“Elizabeth, there’s something I must ask you, and I want you to consider it carefully before you say no,” he grinned, touching the side of her cheek. She leaned against his touch, letting her eyes fall closed for a moment.
“You are not safe here,” he continued. “Even with Dorothy in your room at night. Even with someone watching you every moment of the day. I want to send you to my home in the country. You’ll be comfortable there. Free to roam about as you please without a constant watchful gaze upon you. You’ll be safe.”
“With you?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I must stay here and find out who hurt you.”
“I don’t want to be separated from you. Please, don’t send me away.” As if to persuade him, she took his hand and pressed her lips to each of his fingertips in turn. His pulse thrummed at the touch of her soft lips. Damn Dorothy, with her tea tray and her little cot in the corner.
It should be me who stays in your room at night. Keeping you safe. Keeping you close.
“I wish for nothing more than to keep you at my side,” he said, his voice a low rumble as his thoughts turned heated and scandalous. Her kisses were now trained on his inner wrist. “I will never send you away against your wishes, Elizabeth. But I pray that you see the wisdom of this plan. My greatest desire is for your safety.”
She looked conflicted, pausing in her ministrations. That pensive, somber face that had so perplexed him when he first met her now had become the most beautiful face in the world to him. Remembering that Dorothy would be back shortly, he took his chance. Taking her face in his hands, he brought her to him, covering her mouth in a kiss.
This may not be the best way to convince her to leave…
His rational mind was overpowered by the taste of her lips and the softness of her body as he pulled her to him. She was so gentle, so trusting. Her fingers trailed up his chest timidly, coming to trace the hard line of his jaw.
Dorothy will be back any moment…
He ignored his better judgement, grasping her waist, deepening the kiss. They had so little time together alone, he had to make the most of it.
“Gerard…” she whispered, her lips brushing against his.
He smiled, his name on her tongue sounded like something new. As if the Gerard she spoke of was a new man, unencumbered by a life before her.
“Elizabeth,” he responded breathily, and was rewarded with a sweet smile. “Marry me.”
“I’m no Duchess,” she protested, though she did not pull away from him. She tilted her head to the side and kissed the top of his cheekbone, then the corner of his lips.
“Not yet. I will protect you. No one will dare to question you or your past.”
She was smiling again, though when she chuckled it sounded nervous. He knew he was asking a lot of her. In the midst of all this mystery and violence, to leave the life she knew and strike out into a whole new world.
Be brave, Elizabeth. Like I know you are. Take a chance on me…
“You will protect me?” Her fingers had balled into fists, grasping at the lapels of his waistcoat.
“Always.”
The light of the oil lamp on her desk caught her eyes, glinting off of the unshed tears in them. He stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers, waiting.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
His world seemed to shatter in that moment, his entire life narrowing down into that singular tick of t
he clock. He felt dizzy, and like he wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Instead he grasped her face and brought it back to him, devouring her in a kiss.
He had never been a gentleman of many words. He hoped that he could pour all of the hope and joy in his heart into his kiss so that she could feel it and know that everything would be all right. That she wouldn’t regret accepting him.
Wild Passions of a Mischievous Duchess Page 15
