A Duchess by Midnight

by Jillian Eaton

  Taking his time, Nathaniel rubbed his chin before his eyes narrowed and he said, “What the devil are you talking about?”

  Lynette’s mouth fell open. “You do not remember?” she cried incredulously.

  “Remember what?”

  “Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath.

  “What was that?” Nathaniel asked, leaning forward out of his chair. When she didn’t answer – in truth, couldn’t answer for all the emotions that were swelling up inside of her – he sat back and crossed his legs at the knee, a bemused expression on his face. “Have we met before?”

  Her chin jerked in a sharp nod. “Yes,” she bit out. “Although it is apparent you do not remember. Tell me, is it because you throw yourself upon unwilling women so often you cannot tell one from the other, or because you are so dimwitted it is impossible for you to retain more than one thought in your brain at a time?”

  Nathaniel’s eyebrows had begun creeping up his temple at the start of her tirade and by the end of it they were close to his hairline. “I believe there has been some mistake,” he began slowly before Lynette’s short bark of laughter cut him off.

  “Mistake? The only mistake I ever made was listening to you. I want to leave now.” Gritting her teeth, she pushed back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. When she tried to stand up, however, an overwhelming wave of dizziness seized her and she fell back onto the mattress with a quiet ‘oomph’. As black dots danced in front of her eyes she lowered her head and clenched her teeth against the sharp, shooting pain resonating in the back of her skull.

  “You are still hurt.” In an instant Nathaniel was by her side. Kneeling down, he rested one hand on her knee while the other gently lifted her chin, the calloused pad of his thumb brushing across her cheek. “Your pupils are dilated. You need to rest.”

  “Do not touch me,” she said, swatting at his hand with as much strength as she could muster which unfortunately in her current state wasn’t very much. “I must return home at once. My sisters need me.” As a belated thought occurred, her eyes widened and she drew in a sharp intake of breath. “Where are they?” she demanded. “Where are Temperance and Delilah? What have you done with them?” Her fingers tightened around the blanket as she began to imagine all sorts of horrible scenarios. Temperance may have technically been an adult, but her good judgement was shaky at best while sweet, innocent Delilah would blindly follow her sister anywhere. They could have fallen into poor company or been set upon by riff-raff or wandered down to the docks or–

  “I had them thrown into the Thames, of course.” Nathaniel sat back on his heels, countenance inscrutable save a faint tick of annoyance in his jaw.

  Lynette gasped. “You–”

  “Sent them home,” he said, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth as he studied her reaction. “They were soaked to the skin and shivering, so I sent them home to change and get some warm food in their bellies. Before you woke I sent one of my maids to check on them and ensure they were safe.” His face darkened into a scowl. “What do you take me for, a monster?”

  Lynette hoped he’d meant the question as a rhetorical one, for she was quite certain he wouldn’t like her answer. Struggling to put the man she’d caught kissing another woman after he’d pledged his heart to her with the one who had been considerate enough to look after her sisters, she regarded him warily beneath a fringe of dark lashes. “How do I know you are telling the truth?”

  “Why would I lie?”

  Why would you not?

  What sort of game was Nathaniel playing? Had she not known any better, she would have falsely assumed he was some sort of knight-in-shining-armor. A brave, heroic gentleman who had risked his own life to save hers before bringing her back to his own home to care for her. But she did know better, which meant she knew Nathaniel Blackbourne was as much a knight as she was a princess.

  “I want to leave now,” she repeated. “My sisters need me.” Whatever ruse Nathaniel was planning, she wanted no part of it. He’d already ruined her life once. She had no intention of letting him do it again. But when she tried to stand a second time she had even less success than the first and her knees buckled before she took a single step.

  “Stop trying to move,” he ordered in a tone that was surprisingly authoritative. Standing, he loomed over her, his large body thrown into silhouette by the flickering candlelight. “You’ll be little good to your sisters if you faint again. You need to rest. You took a serious blow to the head when you tripped and fell.”

  “What – what are you doing?” Lynette asked weakly, when, without warning, Nathaniel scooped her up in his arms as though she weighed no more than a sack of feathers. Futilely kicking her legs, she tilted her head back and glared up at the bottom of his chin. “Put me down this instant, Lord Townsend! This is highly inappropriate and I will not be manhandled again! Do you hear me?”

  Ignoring her protests, he swiftly carried her out the bedroom and down the hall. Lynette caught a glimpse of dark wood paneling and elegant sterling silver sconces before she was brought into a room easily three times the size of the last.

  It only took one glance around to determine Nathaniel had brought her into the master bedchamber. Bookshelves lined the walls and a gaming table occupied the far corner. Draped in a sumptuous red silk cover, a four-poster bed dominated the room. Matching curtains covered the windows although one was pulled back just enough for Lynette to catch a glimpse of the sky.

  The very dark sky.

  Many more hours must have passed then she realized for day to have turned into night.

  “What time is it?” she demanded of his chin. “At least tell me that much.”

  “Half past eight,” he replied before he carefully lowered her onto the bed. Onto his bed.

  Lynette inhaled sharply as her head fell back against one of the pillows. It smelled of him. The entire room smelled of him because it was his room. He’d brought her into his private chambers and he’d tucked her into his bed. The place he slept every night. The place she might have ended up if they hadn’t been interrupted at the ball…

  “I need to leave.” She struggled to push herself upright, small hands sinking into the thick covers. “I need to leave at once.”

  “You need to rest.” Unfazed by her struggles, he adjusted the pillows behind her head and drew a blanket up to her waist. “You are at risk for a concussion. I could not in good conscious allow you to return home.”

  Now he chose to have a conscience?

  Staring up at him in disbelief, Lynette uttered one single word. “Why?”

  His took his time before answering. Brow furrowed, he crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels, gaze darting to the far wall before it flicked back to her face. For an instant so quick if she’d blinked she might have missed it, she saw an emotion in his piercing green eyes she wouldn’t have believed him capable of unless she’d witnessed it herself.

  Regret.

  “Let me help you. I owe you that much.” And without another word he turned and left the room, leaving Lynette staring after him in bewildered confusion.