William hesitated, glancing up and down the hall, before sinking to a knee beside her. “The clamp caught Bear’s forefoot. Here,” she murmured, taking William’s hand in her own.
His fingers curled around hers, seeking the warmth of that touch. Craving—
She placed his palm upon Bear’s left paw, showing him the place of the old wound.
William forced his attention from the one who truly held him transfixed and attended the large paw in his grip.
“It severed his dew claw and ripped off two nails.” Bear whined, and Elsie made some nonsensical soothing noises that had a calming effect on her dog, and William understood it, for warmth suffused his chest, sweeping through him when he’d been cold for so long.
“What happened to him?” he asked. There were layers to that question that he didn’t himself want the answer to.
She held a palm up, which the dog lapped at with a large, pink tongue, and then Elsie went on. “There was so much blood. At first glance, his paw was mangled. He had it curled up close to his chest and bled everywhere. Had the snare caught him here at his ankle?” She covered William’s fingers with her own, and his mouth went dry as she guided him over the coarse fur and then stopped, leaving their hands joined upon that portion of Bear’s leg. The touch was innocent, and yet, with every fleeting brush, it drew him deeper and deeper into whatever spell she’d woven over him. “Bear would have lost it. Most would have, as you’d said, put him down. At the very least, they would have taken the leg.” Elsie smiled wistfully up at him. “My father was a healer. He did not end lives…” Her throat worked. “He saved them. And that generosity extended to animals.” Pain and heartache twined in her singsong voice.
He’d become jaded to those two sentiments in his work long, long ago, only to find himself not immune now. His heart twisted, and even as he warred with himself to keep barriers between himself and this woman chipping away at them, he spoke, the need to distract her from her pain greater than his need for self-preservation.
“And he recovered completely under your and your father’s care,” he ventured, trusting that had been the original intention. To disprove the point he had made.
“Not at all,” she countered.
Of course not. He could read everyone to near perfection… except this woman and her intentions.
William stroked a hand down the dog’s back, and Bear leaned into his touch.
When William registered the silence in the room, he glanced over and found Elsie’s gaze trained on his palm as he petted her ancient dog.
Clearing her throat, Elsie went on with her telling. “Long after it mended, Bear was still not wholly recovered. He was able to walk and run.”
“Isn’t that healed?” he asked, briefly halting his caress, until Bear nudged him back into action.
“To some,” she explained. “Your father. You. And most others would equate wellness with the recovery of a physical injury.” She looped her arms around the dog’s neck, giving him another hug and knocking William’s hand loose.
He’d never believed it possible, but William found himself envying a damned dog. He gave his head a slight, imperceptible shake.
“There were certain times we would journey to the village,” Elsie explained, her cheek still rested upon Bear’s matted fur, “where he’d be stubborn, barking at everything, and when we returned home, he’d simply sit in the corner, licking where the wound had once been until the paw was raw and bloodied. It took four times before I realized it…”
He sat forward. “What?”
“We were journeying by the place where he’d been hurt,” she said gently. “Each time we passed it, he remembered what happened to him. That spot of his remembered pain held him prisoner.”
Understanding dawned, and bitterness wadded in his throat as her meaning rang clear. “And you believe that simply avoiding that… place is enough to make one forget.” Somewhere along the way, he’d stopped pretending as though they spoke of Bear. He’d never forget his wife, or everything he’d cost her.
“No.” Elsie looked at William squarely, holding his eyes. “That memory will always be there. It does not go away, but if one forces oneself to live and see only that darkest moment over and over, one will eventually go mad.”
I am already there. He’d descended into that state the day of the attack.
Hadn’t he?
Before Elsie had arrived, the answer to that would have been instantaneous and far more certain.
Elsie stiffened and made to draw her hand back. “It is late.” She pushed to her feet, and William rushed to stand.
She was leaving. The intent was there still in the set of her mouth.
“I’ll give up spirits,” he conceded gruffly. As long as she was here. He kept that particular detail to himself.
She narrowed her eyes and peered up at him through a too-clever-for-his-good gaze. “And then when I leave? What then?”
God, she was tenacious. With her ability to ferret out promises a man didn’t want to give, she’d have been better suited to the ranks of the Brethren. “Do you truly expect me to give up spirits forever?” It was unnatural in the order of his universe. Gents drank.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “But I do expect you to give up liquor until you learn proper restraint over it… and yourself.”
Had anyone told him a slip of a woman nearly a foot and a half smaller than he would be here doling out requirements and expectations and questioning his, William Helling, the Duke of Aubrey’s restraint, he’d have laughed his arse off.
“Fine,” he conceded grudgingly. He silently cursed. “What else?”
“You allow me to evaluate you and work with you. We begin tomorrow. Each morning, at six o’clock, we shall meet.”
“You rise at six o’clock?” he asked, unable to keep the surprise from his voice. His own wife had risen well after the afternoon sun had climbed into the sky. As had his mother.
“Hardly. If that were the case, I’d be meeting with you in my nightshift,” she said dryly, and he shifted his gaze to the very garments she’d referenced.
Desire stirred once more. “Which would hardly be surprising,” he forced himself to say, “given that you’ve been here just two days and it is now the second time I’ve seen you in such a state of undress.”
She drew the already closed folds of her night wrapper closer to her person.
And he proved very much the rogue she’d accused him to be, for he yearned to tug at that neat bow he’d belted at her waist and slide the garment from her shoulders, continuing his earlier exploration.
“Six o’clock,” she repeated.
William released a sigh. “Very well. Six o’clock. Shall we meet in the schoolroom?” he asked, his expression deadpan.
Elsie puzzled her brow. “Of course n—” She stopped, her cheeks pinkening. “Oh, you are funning me.”
Funning her? He’d not made light of… any topic or discourse in so long, he’d believed himself incapable of it. “I… I suppose I was,” he conceded, tugging at the collar of his shirt, and he accepted the truth… She’d been correct. He had become a beast, unable to interact as he once had with the world around him.
A smile curled her lips up into a gentle expression of happiness. “That is good. We will meet in the breakfast room, and then again thereafter for”—he was already shaking his head—“the midday meal and supper—”
“All three?” he choked out. She not only expected him to leave his rooms in the middle of the day, but she intended to sit opposite him and watch him suffer through the simplest task that was eating? “No.”
“I’ve never been particularly fond of the midday meal either, but the more opportunities I have to observe you using your jaw, the greater the likelihood I might be able to help you.”
William searched her face. “You believe you can help me.” His was a statement.
She hesitated. “I do not know. Nor will I offer you false hope,” she said on a rush. “I�
�ll not be able to determine as much until I observe you more and discuss the pain you are dealing with.” She spoke of the agony that had resulted in Edward seeking her out. “Until tomorrow, William.” Then, dismissing him outright, she patted a hand against her leg.
“Wait,” he called.
She stopped abruptly and looked to him with a question in her gaze.
“If I might… Your dog… I…” he said tersely.
Elsie firmed her lips. “I’ve already been clear. If I’m to remain, Bear—”
“I want your damned dog to remain.” William grimaced. Oh, God, what was becoming of him? Where in blazes had that request come from? Or mayhap the better question was what had become of him?
His surprise was reflected back in the young woman’s expression. “You want…” He cringed. “Oh,” she said softly.
Just that. A single syllable. His ears burned hot the same way they had when his father had caught him nursing one of the injured barn cats in the stables. His request had simply been inspired by the maudlin memory of his own blasted dog from long ago. He scraped his hand through his hair. “Never mind. It was—”
“Of course he can remain, William.”
She snapped three times, and Bear bounded over to William’s side.
They stood there, man and dog, staring after Elsie as she took her leave, and he remained there long after she’d gone, Bear dutifully at his side.
This time when sleep would not come, it was not because of the nightmares, guilt, and agony at all he’d lost—but because of her.
He was in serious danger of remembering he was a gentleman—what possible good might come of that?
Chapter 10
The following morning, Elsie wound her way through the same corridors she’d traveled the night before.
When Elsie had set her terms last evening for William, she’d expected him to flatly reject each one. And after their embrace, she’d wanted him to send her packing because he’d unsettled her in ways she’d never been. She’d been so sure he would.
A scoundrel who drank too much and bedded scandalous women—several at the same time—was not one who’d willingly give up those pursuits. Nor was a duke, and leader within a powerful, secret organization, one to take orders, and from a woman, no less.
Or that was what she’d believed.
With every meeting, and every turn, he unbalanced her, and she was left more and more unsteady within a household where it would be dangerous to let her guard down.
He’d craved Bear’s company. When all the noblemen who’d come to her cottage had either sneered or ordered the dog to another room or outside, William had freely stroked the dog’s matted back. He would, of course, see asking Bear to stay with him as a humbling request. His flushed cheeks had bespoken the embarrassment he’d felt in asking, and yet… he’d asked.
Never trust a man who doesn’t love an animal, her father had warned.
But what level of trust did one have in a man whose business centered around secrets and bringing men—and women—down?
Click-click-click-click.
Heart racing, she searched for the source of the rapidly approaching sound.
Relief went through her as Bear bound over to her.
Elsie immediately dropped to her knees and hugged his familiar body weight. “Did you have a good night?” she murmured against his ear. His rough tongue lapped at her ear.
Last night had marked the first that she and Bear had been apart in the whole of their lives together. He, however, had seemed far more comfortable with the prospect of sleeping with a stranger. A dark stranger who Elsie had kissed.
A shiver prickled down her spine. You’re a fool to be so trusting. You’re walking into the same trap your father did. Elsie’s senses went on alert. And here she’d been so awestruck by the fact that William had requested the presence of her dog. Why, either one of them could have been harmed last evening for that carelessness. She quickly pushed to her feet.
She glanced about, touching her gaze on every corner. The hum of silence served as her only company. At least that you know of.
Bear, in his customary spot alongside her, eased some of the anxiety that came in being among the men in this organization once again.
Hugging the wall, she resumed walking, increasing her stride as she went.
Yes, she’d be a fool to wholeheartedly trust that they still wouldn’t destroy her on a whim. People such as she and her father were expendable. The world took what it needed, and when their perceived use had been met, they were cast out.
It is why you are a fool for being here.
The taunt pinged around her mind. The Brethren had taken years upon years of her father’s services and skills and then killed him. And still she’d come for their leader. Because despite their betrayal, Papa had first and foremost insisted that he and Elsie, where able, helped those in need.
She’d come, but she needn’t be the same naïve fool she and Papa had been five years ago. The leader of that hated organization had shown some affection for her dog, and she’d let her guard down because of it.
Never again.
She’d come because of the lessons ingrained in her by her father.
And that was why she now found herself here with William. A gentleman who asked—nay, demanded—her assistance, but who did not even remember her father. The man who’d given his services, all hours of the evening, bringing men on the brink of death back to the living, and William did not even recognize Elsie as Francis Allenby’s daughter.
And why should he recognize you when he did not seem to remember the doctor who’d been so very vital to Crown business?
How many times had she heard that very word uttered by those within the Brethren, as rote as the knock they’d rapped at her family’s cottage door?
“Vital,” she whispered, her voice catching. They’d repaid that vitality with a dagger to the chest. Those were the pieces she’d be wise to remember about William Helling, the Duke of Aubrey.
Oh, God.
Elsie stumbled to a stop. The familiar hatred, pain, and regret roared to life within her, filling every corner of her being with an icy cold. She called herself a pathetic fool for not having held tight enough to those sentiments since she’d arrived here. And I kissed him. A man who’d only existed as the enemy. It’s why she’d fought all remembrance of that embrace. Elsie squeezed her eyes shut and laid her back against the wall, taking support from it.
For the truth was, though neither William, nor Lord Edward, nor miserable Bennett had thrust that blade repeatedly into her father’s chest until he’d choked on his own blood, they might as well have landed the death blows all the same.
Do not think of it… Do not think of it…
Not here. Not now.
Focus on leaving. Focus on fleeing this place…
A panicky half laugh, half sob stuck in her throat. He’d never let her leave. She was as trapped as her father had been. It was her inevitable fate to fall as Papa had. With his pure heart, he’d inadvertently tied them to the devil, and there could be no severing the connections.
Elsie smacked the back of her head against the wall, over and over.
Do not let the memories in…
Except the dam opened up, as it inevitably did, and sucked her into a past that could never be buried. One that would forever haunt her. Elsie’s breath came in frantic, ragged spurts, rasping loud in her ears. It blended with the hideous gurgling as her father had struggled to make words.
Whimpering, she clamped her hands over her ears in a bid to blot out the sounds.
Always remember who we are, p-poppet… We…
“Help,” she rasped.
Bear whined forlornly.
“Elsie?”
Elsie’s eyes flew open. Elsie? Her name. Spoken by only one another. Papa.
Disoriented, she darted her gaze frantically about, searching.
And finding him.
Not her father. Of course. He’d been dead five
years now, cut down in the most brutal of ways.
But rather, another man stood before her.
Framed in a doorway five or so paces ahead, William stared back. Even with the space between them, she detected the unexpected flash of concern there.
Reality came rushing back in a noisy whir.
Elsie jumped away from the wall. “William,” she greeted in even tones. How was her voice so steady? How, when the memories had come… and William, the Duke of Aubrey and leader within the Brethren, stood opposite her? “Hello,” she said quickly, her voice echoing around the wide halls.
William’s black eyebrows dipped.
She coughed into her fist. “That is, I’d been calling out hello.” She proffered the lie easily and searched for some indication that he sensed the mistruth.
His expression, however, remained a careful, carved mask. “You are late.”
She was? Elsie rushed forward, and Bear sprang into step beside her. “Impossible. I’m—” William drew out a gold timepiece, popped the lid open, and dangled it before her. “Late,” she breathed. For any appointment she’d had, for any villager who’d summoned her to tend wounded animals, Elsie had been unfailingly punctual. Timing mattered. The loss of crucial minutes had the potential to see a creature forever scarred, or dead. That principle had guided her life.
“I’ll not sack you.”
Why… why… was he jesting?
She craned her head back, searching for some hint of mirth and ultimately finding his face still threateningly blank. Had he seen her lie for the falsehood it was moments ago? The heated intensity of his piercing eyes bespoke a man who would not miss those details.
Nay, he’d be wholly attuned to matters and exchanges directly affecting him.
It is the lives of those around him that don’t merit a like focus.
Without verifying whether she followed, without even issuing the command, William entered the breakfast room through the wide doorway.
Elsie stared at the entranceway and let the war within her rage. Could she remain here in the Duke of Aubrey’s household? Her resentment, her bitterness would always be there. And where her father had been good and honorable, Elsie did not possess such goodness where she could so easily set aside those sentiments and forget the injustices done to her and Papa.
Her Duke of Secrets Page 11
