She jerked her arm free and took a step back from him. Looking up into his cold dark eyes, she mustered all of her courage. “Mr. Wolfe, let me be clear. I will never marry you.” Not backing down from his glare, she straightened herself and lifted her chin. “Leave my home at once, Mr. Wolfe.” Rose stood her ground and fought her tears. She refused to allow Mr. Wolfe to see how upset he made her.
“I would be happy to do so…as soon as you agree to become my wife.”
Lord Aubry stepped up behind him. “I am certain Miss Woodcourt asked you to leave the premises, sir.”
His rich voice wrapped around Rose like a warm shawl on an icy night. Her limbs tingled in response, as she swallowed the lump forming in her throat. She could not cry in front of them. She would perish of embarrassment if she did.
Without changing his facial sneer, he bit out his retort. “Who are you to give me orders?” Mr. Wolfe spun to face Lord Aubry. His shoulders slumped as he dropped into a bow. “Forgive me, my lord. I am afraid you came upon a private matter and tempers are high.” He straightened before tossing a glance over his shoulder at Rose, his lips pressed into a tight line.
Rose looked at Lord Aubry who stood there with a tight smile, then back at Wolfe. Cold fear trickled through her veins. Wolfe would not take kindly to Lord Aubry’s interference.
The earl stepped forward, directly in front of Wolfe, his shoulders squared, his scowl dangerous. “You will show yourself out, this instant.”
Rose stared at the men, her cheeks burning. As much as she appreciated his help, she would rather keep her struggles with this unsavory character private.
“Yes, my lord. Right away.” Wolfe stepped around Lord Aubry, but not before glowering at her. A moment later the door slammed, shaking the floor beneath Rose’s feet. She let out the breath she’d been holding.
“Thank you, Lord Aubry.” She dipped into a deep curtsy. Gratitude filled her, but her stomach also knotted. She knew Mr. Wolfe would not give up easily, and Lord Aubry was not likely to be around the next time she found herself in need of saving.
Rose clutched the proof in her reticule as she marched toward the constable’s office. She had launched a frantic search through Papa’s old records last night. Hours were spent sorting through dusty ledgers, until at last she found the slip of parchment she needed. Rose pulled the receipt out and stared at it. Just how Mr. Wolfe managed to forge mortgage papers was beyond her understanding. Well, soon enough, she would prove Mr. Wolfe to be the fraud she knew he was.
A gentleman in a tall hat rushed past as she reached for the office door. A gust of air created by his movement snatched the precious receipt from her hand. The document danced on the breeze, pausing briefly, then bounced across the walkway. Her pulse quickening, Rose hurried after the receipt. As she stooped to grab her proof, another wind gust snatched the parchment from her fingertips, carrying it away. It landed on the edge of a mud puddle in the center of the busy street. Rose’s chest tightened with dread. If the receipt were ruined, she would have nothing to disprove Mr. Wolfe’s lies.
Scrambling after the small piece of parchment, she made to grab it, but the wind gave it wings again. She paid no mind to the people moving all around her as she dodged between them, desperate to reclaim her proof.
The receipt once again, fluttered down, landing in the very puddle from which Rose had just attempted to save it. Her heart sank. She reached out, fingers brushing the receipt, but pulled back when a carriage rattled by. No, no, no. This cannot be happening. If she lost her proof, Rose knew she would also lose the cottage. She edged closer to the curb. As she did, a horse approached with a quick gate. Rose jumped back and watched, as its hooves trampled her hope into the muddy pool.
Dropping to her knees, she reached for the soiled receipt, heedless of her gown. Please let the writing still be legible. She leaned over as far as she could, and fished the parchment out of the muddied water. Her heart tumbled to her toes. The ink was smeared beyond recognition. Nothing more than black streaks remained. What was she to do now?
“Miss Woodcourt?” A deep baritone voice invaded her thoughts.
She turned her head, her gaze colliding with Lord Aubry’s.
Rose took the hand he offered, allowing him to pull her up. She glanced down at the sopping parchment. “Gone, it is all gone.” Her voice shook as she met his questioning gaze.
“What is gone?”
“This! My proof.” Frustrated, she dangled the wet, smeared receipt in front of him. Her white gloves were stained with muddy street water from fishing the receipt out of the gutter. Rose struggled to maintain her composure.
“I am afraid I do not follow, Miss Woodcourt.” Concern flashed in his blue eyes.
Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders, determined to stay calm. “It was the receipt proving Papa had indeed paid off the mortgage he owed Mr. Wolfe’s father. I intended to take the proof to the constable. Now I have nothing.” Rose fought rising panic, her free hand fisting her skirt.
“You might still hire the Bow Street Runners to investigate.” He studied her, his gaze softened.
Something in the way he searched her face warmed her deep inside. “That is not an option. I must go, my lord.” She dipped into a curtsy.
He caught her elbow and pulled her to her feet. “Pray tell, why is hiring a Bow Street runner not an option?” Rose could not ignore the small butterflies taking flight in her belly at his touch.
She peered up into his sky-blue gaze and nibbled her lip. How could she admit to him that hiring them was beyond her financial reach? Without proof they could not simply right the wrong. Perhaps Wolfe could be arrested. No. She would have to hand over coin, and plenty of it, for an investigation. She had no extra coin. No matter how she tried to think to answer him, she simply couldn’t respond. She stood mute, gazing at him.
“Do you intend to ignore me?” Frustration coated Lord Aubry’s words. He released his grip on her.
Rose glanced up at him. Could he help? She wanted to ask, but made no move to speak.
“If you tell me what the issue is perhaps I may be able to assist you.” His eyes were locked on hers. His voice was gentle. An odd sensation unfurled in her midsection.
Rose averted her gaze, not entirely sure she wished to share her struggles with him.
“Very well,” he said. “Keep your secrets for now, if you must.”
“I cannot afford an investigation at this time, and I do not desire your assistance.” Her cheeks flamed at the admission. “I could not possibly impose.” Her insides felt so strange. Why did he affect her so?
“There is no imposition. In fact, I insist.” Grinning, he extended his arm. His day coat clung to his chest, revealing a muscular physique.
“That is most generous, but I cannot allow it.” Rose forced a smile.
Pity flickered in his eyes as he held her gaze.
How mortifying. A flush spread from her chest up her neck. The last thing she wanted was to become his charity case.
“At the least, allow me to take you home,” he offered.
She flashed a smile and turned, intending to take her leave. “I can see myself home. Thank you.”
Taking her elbow, he turned her to face him. “Nonsense. There is no reason for you to hire a hackney when I have a perfectly good carriage right here.” He gestured toward the same impressive coach that had delivered Lady Julia to her door the previous day.
Rose nibbled her lower lip in thought. The pair shared the same surname, but how were they related? Could they be siblings or cousins, perchance? Regardless, Lady Julia was fond of him. Perhaps not all lords were as odious as Annie’s earl had been. Surely, she would not come to harm simply by allowing him to drive her home. “Very well.” She sighed.
Her thrill of longing went through her when she wrapped her hand under his upper arm. She was certain the reaction had nothing to do with her current predicament. Stop you ninny, he is a lord. Lords do not court untitled misses. Mayhap if she to
ld herself that enough she would get him out of her mind.
Lord Aubry waved off his driver. Instead, he opened the door to his coach and pulled down a tiny step for her to use. Holding her firmly, he assisted her up into the black lacquer barouche, his crest emblazoned on the door. Her skirt rustled as she sat down on the overstuffed leather seat. She had never been inside such a fine conveyance.
The lopsided grin he offered set her heart aflutter. She smiled back before averting her gaze. It would not do for him to see how deeply he affected her. Besides, her thinking became muddled while looking at him. She needed to focus on the problem of Mr. Wolfe. There had to be a way to stop him, without sending her to the poorhouse. There simply had to be.
About the Author
USA Today Bestselling author Amanda Mariel dreams of days gone by when life moved at a slower pace. She enjoys taking pen to paper and exploring historical time periods through her imagination and the written word. When she is not writing she can be found reading, crocheting, traveling, practicing her photography skills, or spending time with her family.
Visit www.amandamariel.com for more information on Amanda and her books.
Sign up for Amanda’s newsletter while you are at her website to stay up-to-date on all things Amanda Mariel and receive a free eBook!
[email protected]
Thank you so much for taking the time to read Delighted by the Duke.
Your opinion matters!
Please take a moment to review this book on your favorite review site and share your opinion with fellow readers.
USA Today bestselling author
~Heartwarming historical romances that leave you breathless~
Delighted by the Duke Page 6
