The Duke of St. Giles

by Jillian Eaton

  West nodded. “Indeed. I thought a morning ride would help… clear my head.”

  “And did it?” Emily asked, one eyebrow lifting.

  West drew a hand through his damp hair, pulling at the ends. “Not half as well as I thought it might,” he admitted. “Princess, about last night—”

  “Stop,” she said, holding up one hand.

  “Stop?” he echoed incredulously, as though he were not accustomed to being told what to do.

  “Yes. If you're about to apologize for your actions or make excuses for them, I would ask you to stop. If I have one regret from last night, it is that things did not go further. I… I… I like you Mr. Green.” Her eyes widened. Heavens. She’d actually said it. She’d told him she liked him. Out loud. Well, given that the cat was out of the bag… “I know it is absurd,” she said in a rush, “and I know it does not make a bit of sense. I should be terrified of you, not falling in love with you—”

  “You are falling in love with me?” West interrupted, looking rather dazed.

  “Yes, yes, but that is neither here nor there.”

  “It isn’t?”

  Emily sighed. “May I finish?”

  “By all means.”

  “As I was saying, I know that we are not suitable for each other. I am the daughter of a duke, while you are… well, you are…”

  “A criminal of the worst sort,” he supplied helpfully.

  “Yes, well, a criminal anyways. Not to mention the man who has kidnapped me. But you are also the only man who has ever made me feel something. Granted, not all of the something’s are nice things. But I would rather feel anger and frustration and annoyance than nothing at all.” She bit her lip and peered up at him uncertainly through her lashes. “Do you understand?”

  “Understand that even though I anger and frustrate and annoy you, you still fancy yourself in love with me?” West shook his head. “No, sorry Princess. I don’t.”

  “I did not think you would.” And how could he, when she hardly understood it herself? From the first moment she’d met him her emotions had run the gauntlet from numbing fear to heart-stopping passion. The only thing she knew – the only thing she was certain of – was that the man standing before her meant something to her. What that something was she couldn’t be completely sure, but she knew it was important. Very, very important. “Never mind.” Emily waved her hand in the air; a flippant gesture intended to make light of a painful situation. What had she expected? That West would reciprocate her feelings and sweep her up in his arms? Yes, a part of her answered sullenly. That would have been quite nice. “It does not matter. Please, forget I said anything.” She went to move past him, but his arm shot out, his palm striking the bark of the oak tree, blocking her path.

  “Wait,” he bit out between his teeth. “Just… just wait one bloody moment. You can’t tell me something like that and then walk away.”

  Emily scowled. “Of course I can.” Especially now that she felt completely humiliated. What had she been thinking, revealing her feelings like that? Stupid, stupid, stupid. This wasn’t like one of the fairytales she so loved reading. It was real life, and in real life the rough, handsome criminal did not fall in love with the dowdy, innocent miss.

  “I… bloody hell.” West drew a ragged breath and looked down at his boots. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

  “Say whatever you like.”

  He dragged a hand through his hair before saying, “Have you even kissed a man before? Not a peck on the lips, but a real kiss. The kind we shared last night.”

  Emily’s forehead creased. What did that have to do with anything? “Well no, but—”

  “There you have it then,” he said, looking relieved. “You are not in love, Princess. You’re in lust. It happens to the best of us.” Something flickered in the golden depths of his eyes. “Trust me,” he said gruffly.

  He thought she was in lust? Emily would have taken a giant step back if not for the oak tree pressing up against her spine. Wanting to put space between them nevertheless, she brought her right arm up to her left shoulder and hugged it tight; enclosing herself behind a wall of her own making.

  “Even if you truly were falling in love with me,” West continued, unknowingly pouring salt in a wound that was still very much open and bleeding, “it would never work between us. We are not only two different people, we come from two entirely different worlds. As you said yourself, I am a criminal. And not just any criminal, I’ve been accused of murder. While you…”

  “Yes?” she prompted when he paused. Her chin lifted in challenge. “What am I? Tell me, Mr. Green. I would very much like to know your opinion.”

  He looked her straight in the eye. “You’re far too good for the likes of me.”

  “And who determines such a thing? You? Society? Where someone is from does not make them who they are! If I were the daughter of a baker instead of a duke would you be good enough for me then?”

  West’s jaw clenched. “Maybe. But you’re not, are you? Face it, Princess. When you return home we will never see each other again. Our lives were never meant to cross.”

  “Then why would it matter?” she whispered. Eyes wide, heart pounding, she stepped away from the tree and pressed her hands flat against West’s chest. Despite his tightly controlled expression his heart was beating just as fast as hers, if not faster. Not so calm, she thought. Not so collected. The knowledge gave her hope. Hope that she affected him as much as he did her. Hope that the spark she felt between them wasn’t only lust, but something deeper. Something meaningful. Something that could survive the challenges that stood in their path.

  “Why would what matter?” he asked warily, his gaze flicking down to where her fingers were splayed with wanton abandon across his bare skin.

  “If we went further than we should? If it is only lust, and we would never see each other again…” she trailed off as her hand trailed lower, fingertips tracing the rigid contours of his sternum. He sucked in a breath.

  “You would be ruined.”

  “What if that is exactly what I want? For twenty-three years I have obeyed every law and unspoken rule. For twenty-three years I have been the good girl. The quiet girl. The one everyone overlooks. The one everyone ignores. But you don’t ignore me.” She looked up and caught him staring at her in stunned silence, his pupils so dilated it made his eyes appear black.

  “Emily…” There was an unmistakable note of warning in his tone.

  She ignored it.

  “You see me for who I am. Not as the daughter of a duke. Not as the shy, awkward girl standing by herself in the corner. You see me, as no other man ever has. And I see you. I see you,” she repeated when he began to shake his head. “At first I didn’t. I saw only what you wanted people to see. A devil-may-care rake with a different woman on his arm every night. A man who cares for no one but himself. A man with a dark heart and an even darker soul. But that is not what you are. That is not who you are.”

  West seized her wrist and drew her arm back. “You have no idea what you are talking about,” he said harshly. “You do not know anything about me and the only thing I know about you is that you made an easy mark. You’re a job, Princess. You’ve always been a job, and you will always be a job. Nothing more.” He dropped her wrist as though her mere touch disgusted him. “Your ransom letter was sent out this morning. I expect a response by tomorrow.”

  When he began to walk away she hurried after him, nearly tripping over her own feet in her haste to catch up. “Wait!” she cried, reaching him as he hoisted his body up and over the fence. “Mr. Green. West! Please wait.”

  But he didn’t and by the time she managed to collect her skirts and squeeze between the boards, he was out of sight.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Well that could have gone… differently.

  Cursing himself for being ten times a fool West turned a deaf ear to Emily’s cries and stalked around the front of the manor, nearly running into Mattie as he turned the co
rner.

  The maid squawked and jumped the side, kicking over a bucket filled to the brim with sudsy water as she attempted to get out of his way. “Not again,” she groaned cryptically, staring at the overturned bucket in obvious dismay.

  “My apologies. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

  “Well that much is clear!” Mattie snapped, brandishing the damp rag she held clutched in her hand like a weapon. “Oh, don’t bother picking it up now,” she huffed when he knelt to do just that. “I’ll have Bea go fetch another. Where are ye off to in such a hurry anyways?”

  Straightening, West fought the urge to glance back over his shoulder. “No where,” he said evasively.

  Mattie’s eyes narrowed, indicating she wasn’t fooled for a second. “Perhaps I should’ve asked where it is ye are coming from.”

  How was it that some women had an innate knack for sensing when a man was at his most vulnerable? Had it been anyone else West would have brushed past them without a word, but he knew the gesture would be useless on Mattie. She would simply chase him down and twist his ear – literally – until he gave in and told her what she wanted to know. “I do not care to discuss it,” he said stiffly.

  Popping one hand jauntily on her hip she sniffed and said, “Ye might not want to talk about it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear about it. Trouble with your lady?”

  Resigning himself to the fact that he would not be moving on until Mattie’s curiosity was satisfied, West gritted his teeth. “She is not my lady.”

  “Is she not? Ye brought her here,” Mattie pointed out. “And ye are the one keeping her here. If she doesn’t belong to ye then let her go.”

  “It is not that simple.” Except in a way it was. He could do it, if he wanted. He could have Emily in a coach on the way back to London within the hour, ransom be damned. Because, if he were honest with himself, it was no longer about the ransom. Since the first moment he saw her curled up on the floor of his rickety old carriage and she lifted her pert little nose and coolly informed him she was ‘not the crying type’ it hadn’t been about the ransom. Cupping a hand behind his neck, he squeezed the taut muscles. “She told me she is falling in love with me,” he admitted, studying Mattie closely to gauge her reaction. The maid did not so much as blink, let alone appear surprised.

  “And why wouldn’t she be?”

  “Because,” he said with a frustrated growl, “I am not suited for the likes of her. She was made to be a gentleman’s wife, not a criminal’s mistress. You, of all people, should understand that Mattie. Why encourage the start of something that I know is doomed for failure?” Which was why, even though it had felt as though he were being pierced the heart with a rusted dagger, he’d made himself walk away.

  Away from Emily.

  Away from the possibility of love.

  Away from any future they might have had together.

  Even now his own words, so cruelly spoken, echoed in his mind.

  You’re a job, Princess. You’ve always been a job, and you will always be a job.

  Bloody hell. He truly knew how to twist the knife when it counted.

  Mattie’s slanting red eyebrows shot up towards her hairline. “It’s not often that I can tell ye that your wrong, but you’ve just given me a fine opportunity. Emily might be a lady, but she’s not like any lady I’ve ever met. She’s a sweet way about her, and a dreamy mind. Mayhap she’s destined to be a gentleman’s wife, but she would be far happier as a criminal’s mistress. And besides, who is to say you cannot marry her? Is there a law against a commoner marrying a lady? If there is, ye should know about it. Ye certainly break enough of them.”

  As if he needed another reminder of why he and Emily would never work. She deserved more than the life he would be able to provide for her. More than he would ever be able to give. His wealth would always pale in comparison to that of her father’s. She would be shunned by the haute ton. Their children would grow up without titles. Everything she had, everything she was used to, would be stripped away. And she wasn’t the only one who would lose everything.

  If they were to ever marry he would have to give up his life of crime. Give up everything he knew.

  Give up St. Giles.

  After one soul searing kiss that left him desperately craving more and a week that had alternately been the most frustrating and wonderful of his entire life, was he ready to make such a commitment? Was he ready to risk it all?

  For there was one thing he’d said to Emily that had been true. Once he returned her to her father, they would never see each other again. Which meant if he wanted her, he needed to tell her now… just as she’d told him. Except she’d never mentioned marriage. Had she? West’s brow creased as he thought back.

  Love, yes. Any mention of a wedding or a future? No. Those had been his own thoughts. His own conclusions. Perhaps he was overreacting. Blowing things out of proportion, such as they were. Emily had hinted at a night of passion. He’d been the one to jump to a lifetime. His mouth tightened in the corners. If he didn’t know any better, he would think she were the man and he the woman.

  Emily was only a young lady experiencing the heady rush of lust for the first time. He remembered the feeling well, and the emotions that came with it. Why, he’d even fancied himself half in love himself at the time with the woman who’d taken his virginity; a doe-eyed, giggly barmaid named Lucy. Their affair had been short and bittersweet. Lucy left him for a wealthy merchant and he learned a valuable lesson.

  Love didn’t keep two people together. Only money did that.

  Reaching out, he tousled Mattie’s hair, tugging at the auburn curls like he’d done when he was a young man of twenty and she a freckle-faced, loud-mouthed teenage girl. “The only woman I would ever want to marry is you. But since you won’t have me…”

  “Right in I won’t have ye,” Mattie said with a snort. Ducking beneath his hand she patted her hair back into place and fixed him with a scowl. “It’d be like marrying me own brother. Yeck.”

  “I need to get out, Mattie.” Abruptly sobering as the truth finally caught up with him, West extended an arm and leaned heavily against the side of the manor. The stone was warm, the vines that climbed up into the well-worn crevices prickly. “I cannot be the duke forever.”

  “I know, dear.” Countenance softening, Mattie reached up and cupped the side of his face with a calloused palm. “I know. You’ll find a way out, the same as you found a way in. The rookery will go on without ye the same as it did all the years before ye will born and the same it will do all the years after ye are gone. It’s a weight ye don’t have to carry anymore. You’ve been burdened by it long enough.”

  West closed his eyes. In the darkness, he saw the faces of starving children, beaten women, hopeless men. The faces of everyone he’d tried – and failed – to save. For therein lied the truth and the heart of what he did and who he was. He’d not made himself the Duke of St. Giles for fortune or fame, but to try to make a difference in the lives of the damned and the downtrodden. To help them when no one else could. To help them then no one else would.

  The money he hoped to gain through Emily’s ransom was not for him. It was for them. It was always, always for them. But he feared he’d finally reached the end of a fraying rope. A rope he needed to let go of before he hung from it.

  “If I were anyone else I would take Emily’s hand and not look back.” His eyes opened. “But you know who I am better than anyone. You know the things I’ve done. Even if I left St. Giles tomorrow my sins would follow me, and they’d follow her. She’d come to hate me for them eventually.” As he already hated himself.

  Mattie’s smile was sad and tinged with regret. Her fingers traced through his hair, tucking a curl behind his ear with unspoken affection. “If ye were anyone else,” she said quietly, “she wouldn’t want ye.”

  He remained silent. Mattie sighed.

  “That’s your final answer then, is it? Well if ye can’t take her, ye need to let her go.”


  Her skirts torn where she’d gotten them caught on a rusty nail and her hair a disheveled mess, Emily marched towards the manor, her little hands curled into fists and her arms swinging like battering rams at her sides. When she caught up to West she intended to give him a piece of her mind he wouldn’t soon forget.

  Bastard.

  Her upper lip curled.

  Bloody bastard.

  The man had some nerve, making her believe she was falling in love with him… only to turn and walk away the moment she revealed what was in her heart. He could have at least pretended to care, but oh no, not him. Because he was a bastard. A bloody rotten bastard.

  And she was still helplessly, hopelessly in love with him.

  Disgusted at him, disgusted at herself, she rounded the side of the manor… and came up short in stunned, disbelieving silence at the sight that awaited her.

  Mattie and West.

  Mattie touching West.

  Bringing a hand to her mouth to stifle a cry of dismay she darted back, plastering herself between two tall hedges. Her heart raced, every rapid thump thump summoning another vision of something she would never have believed if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes.

  Was this why West had spurned her? Because he was in love with Mattie?

  Pain the likes of which Emily had never felt before pierced her chest. She doubled forward and hunched down, hugging her knees tight to her body as tears born of hurt and bewilderment began to race down her dirt smudged cheeks.

  If this was the way of things, why had neither of them ever said anything? Why had West kissed her in the library last night? Why had he sought her out this afternoon? Why had he been kind and gentle with her? Not because he had to. He was never in a position where he had to. It was always his choice. Always his decision.