“Y-yes, Y-your Grace.” the man squeaked. “Th-that is correct.”
Derek shifted his weight, and borrowed the support of his crutch, hating himself for that weakness, despised that he should be so pathetic before this man...and her. From the corner of his eye, he stole a peek at Lily. Except, there was no pity there. Instead, her aquamarine eyes radiated relief and gratitude. When was the last time he’d done anything or been anyone to inspire such a sentiment in another? St. Cyr’s visage slipped in—the friend whose hide he’d saved on more scores than he could count. As with that, his mind sucked him back to the heart of battle and the echo of gunshots ricocheted around his mind until he ached to throw down his cane and blot his hands over his ears to tamp out the horrific cries.
The rustle of Lily’s soft, satin skirts cut across that hell of his past like a gentle, calming summer breeze. “Your Grace?” she asked tentatively.
He gave his head a shake. “You were instructed to see to the woman I’d hired for the role of governess,” he reminded the man, dragging his gaze reluctantly from the lady.
Silence fell. And then, Davies cleared his throat. “But I did. I-I—” He stuttered to a stop as Derek jabbed his cane at the man. His brother’s faithful servant mopped his brow once more.
“Did I instruct you to sack the young woman?”
“No, but—”
“Did I tell you to see to her responsibilities with Flor—” He caught himself. “The girl?”
“Y-Yes, but—”
“And yet you deliberately went against my wishes.”
The white-haired man frowned. “I was instructed to see to the girl’s governess, and I did.” Apparently, when one called his efforts as solicitor into question, Davies could find his courage. The older man stuffed his wrinkled kerchief into his front pocket and pushed his wire-rimmed spectacles back on his nose. “There is something not right about you, Mrs. Benedict. Something I do not trust.”
Lily remained motionless through his perusal; a proud warrior princess, and the sight of her with her chin tipped up and fury glowing in her eyes, momentarily sucked the breath from Derek’s lungs. Of all the women he’d known before he’d gone off to war, none had held the faintest flicker of a candle to her dauntless spirit. And now, with the man he was, a person all women fled in fear, she should fight for her post here.
Davies looked to him. “Your Grace, governesses do not simply present themselves on your doorstep, as this one did.” The condescending servant peeled his lip back in a sneer.
In a breathtaking display of spirit, she angled her chin up and glared back.
“I have no reservations about the young lady,” he said quietly. Grateful as he was for the man’s undeserved loyalty for the cursed Winters family, he’d not allow him to disparage Lily. Derek himself had already been the gossiped-about and whispered-of figure. He’d not let this man transform her into the same.
His man-of-affairs looked to him with an entreaty in his old eyes. “Your Grace, my friendship to your father went back to our days at Eton. This family is a noble one, with a lineage that goes to the Conqueror.” The old servant peered down his long nose at Lily in distaste. “His Grace would not have permitted an unknown woman from the street to care for his sole grandchild.”
He’d been subjected to Society’s contempt since his return from war. Even for that familial devotion this man felt for his late father, Derek would not allow Davies to break down the one person who’d been unfazed by the monster he was. “You may leave, Mrs. Benedict.”
Lily jerked as though she’d been struck and then with a juddering nod, she fled the room, nearly stumbling over herself in her haste. With the young lady gone, Derek wheeled around so quickly, Davies jumped. The color drained from the solicitor’s cheeks, leaving his pallor a ghastly white.
Derek took a step toward the other man. “I do not have a problem with the lady.” Davies retreated.
“B-but Your Grace, she is no lady.” The man’s courage was to be commended, but then idiocy and bravery were often mistaken for each other. “She arrived on your doorstep with—”
He stopped before him. “Did I give you leave to speak?”
His solicitor wisely fell silent. The first wise thing the man had done all day.
Derek dusted his palms together. “I have named Mrs. Benedict as governess to the child. Do you have a problem with my decision, Davies?”
The other man rocked forward on the balls of his feet, as though prepared to launch his entire body into an argument against his employer’s decision. Then he pursed his lips and made one last appeal. “I-I am merely trying to—”
Derek limped over to the window and returned his attention to the streets below. “We are done here for the day,” he drawled in ducal tones even his father would have been hard pressed to not admire.
“Of course, Your Grace,” Davies said stiffly. He sketched a deep, deferential bow.
“Davies,” he called out, when the other man had his fingers poised on the door handle. His man-of-affairs turned to face him once more. “I do not care to debate my decisions with anyone.” Except Lily. There was an odd pleasure to be had in going toe-to-toe with the determined governess. Something in the fiery-tempered, courageous young woman roused a reminder of the joy in feeling anything beyond the rage he’d known these past years. “If it weren’t for your years of devotion to my family, I would sack you without another thought.” The servant gulped. “Do not gainsay me again. Particularly where Mrs. Benedict is concerned. Is that clear?”
“Indeed.”
“Unless you have reasons I should not trust the lady?” He gave him a long look.
“I do not, Your Grace,” the man said through tight lips.
“Then this matter is concluded.”
Chapter 12
Lily stood in the corner of her rooms and peered down into the busy London streets. The duke’s man-of-affairs had gone. And yet, in the nearly twenty minutes since he’d walked stiffly from the townhouse, she’d not been summoned or tossed out. It was as though she’d been forgotten.
A knock sounded at the door.
Lily jumped. She slapped a hand to her heart. “Of course you’re not forgotten,” she muttered to herself. That would be far too easy; to go on as though she’d not kissed her employer, and invaded his private halls, and gone toe-to-toe with—
Knock.
“Open your goddamn door, Lily. I am not of a mind to stand out here in the hall while you sulk in your chambers.”
She stared wide-eyed at the wood panel and then resumed a frantic blinking. What in thunderation? Never had she known a man, gentleman or town villager in the duke’s parish, who’d speak with his coarseness. Lily took five long strides across the room and swiftly pulled the door open. “Your Grace, your language leaves—” Oh, my.
Derek limped past her and the sheer punishing size of him, stole her breath. This towering figure who’d surely terrified men in battle and earned countless ladies hearts, limped into her bedroom. Butterflies danced wildly in her belly. With his scars, Derek, the Duke of Blackthorne, would never possess the unflawed beauty of the rogues and rakes of the world. And yet, there was a primitive rawness to him; a rough-hewn strength and rugged masculinity that captivated.
Her breath caught hard in her chest as the same fierce glare he’d leveled on Davies, he now turned on her. And her skin tingled in remembrance of his touch and the burning feel of him. Warmth pooled in her belly. Unable to meet the intensity of his gaze, she dropped her stare.
But snagging her notice were his shirtsleeves. Lily started. For with his absence of a jacket on his broad frame, something pulled at her heart. The fierce, snarling beast was a good deal more tempered when he stood before her only partially clad.
“I do not care to be kept waiting,” he snapped and the gravelly quality of his baritone wrenched her head up. She winced as pain shot down her neck. “Your Grace,” she greeted, gripping the edge of the door. She borrowed purchase from the panel.
Derek spoke as casually as if he’d entered her parlor for tea and a bed even now did not sit at their backs. “Well?” he growled.
She cocked her head. What did he expect of her? He came charging in here after Davies’ vile, if true, accusations. And once more, guilt stabbed her for the plan she’d become embroiled in. Lily curled her toes into the soles of her slippers. Nay, the scheme she’d willingly agreed to take part in.
“Nothing to say?” he continued, gruffly.
It matters not. He shares the blood of the man who ruined me and the woman who turned me away. What guilt do I have for entering his home and taking from him...when everything that truly mattered was already taken from me?
Yet why did it feel as though she lied to herself?
“I thought you felt I should not remain because of our kiss.”
His expression was inscrutable “If you were to leave my employ because of my advances, I would pay your wages for the year.”
She choked. “You would do that?”
“I would,” he said simply.
What nobleman would be so magnanimous and expect nothing more? Even that old, grandfatherly figure who’d taken her into his household as a maid for two years had ultimately expected her to warm his bed. Now, this man, whispered to be a ruthless beast, with his generous and unwitting promise, offered her freedom.
As silence stretched on, Derek stared at her with an inscrutable expression.
Take it. Take what he offers. An acceptance hovered on her lips. I cannot. Her heart dipped. Yet she could not lie to him. Not of this. “I wanted your kiss,” she said softly. For some reason, a reason she did not understand and couldn’t muddle through, she needed him to know that. “I would not leave for it.” But rather, stay.
He stitched his eyebrows into a single line.
Unnerved by the talk of their embrace, Lily smoothed her palms down the front of her dress. “Nor was I sulking,” she managed as an ever-present remorse filled her. She’d wager all hint of future security this was not a man who defended anyone or anything and yet, he’d battled a loyal servant who’d been in his family’s employ—for her.
Derek folded his arms at his broad chest and her breath caught once more under the heightened reminder of his power and strength. “I expect a woman who’d go toe-to-toe with old Davies would not cower in her rooms,” he speculated in hushed, gravelly tones.
“You requested I leave,” she returned. “The parlor was certainly not an appropriate place for me to be and I’ve been expressly forbidden from entering the opposite end of your home. There still remains the matter of whether you intend to...” Her cheeks burned under her inane ramblings. Clearing her throat, she dropped her gaze once more. “Given all that, I thought my chambers were the safest place.”
Lily stiffened as he brushed his knuckles along her jaw, forcing her gaze up. And this man, who’d roused terror but two days earlier, now elicited this maddening beat of her pulse. “Did you believe Davies convinced me of your unsuitability and I agreed to turn you out?” he whispered and this was not the lethal, mocking tone she’d come to expect of him. This was the softly seductive one that washed over her with the potent warmth of a hot summer sun.
Her eyes slid closed briefly. “I did.”
“You did defy my orders.” Several times. “And entered areas I’d expressly forbade you from entering.” With his harsh urgings, did he seek to protect himself from hurt? He lowered his face so close to hers, his brandy-scented breath fanned her lips.
Her lashes fluttered madly and she ached to tip her head back and take his kiss.
“But I will not.”
She tried to untangle the meaning of his words through this haze of desire clouding her senses. “You will not what?” she managed.
“Sack you.” Derek drew back and by his smooth unaffectedness, she may as well have imagined the momentary haze of passion between them.
She blinked several times. “Your Grace?”
“Despite Davies’ compunctions, I’ve need of you, Lily.”
“A need of me?” she repeated blankly, backing away from him. Disappointment settled like a stone in her belly. Having no choice was vastly different than deciding to give yourself to a man. “Y-You wish me to warm your bed?” She retreated until the backs of her knees knocked against the bed and she tumbled into a seated position.
Derek limped forward and she’d no doubt, even with the injury to his leg, he could easily overtake her if he so desired like one of those sleek, primal beasts. Except, as he stopped several feet from where she sat, she knew that this was not the manner of man Derek, the Duke of Blackthorne, was or ever had been. Snarling, surly, and harsh, he’d still never force his intentions upon a woman.
Her brooding employer looked her up and down, startling her with his gentle tone. “I have told you before; I will not take advantage of a servant in my employ.” Then the mask of ruthless duke descended as he lowered his lashes. “What manner of household did you work in prior to this to turn you cautious?” The hard edge to that inquiry hinted of a man who’d shred her previous employer should she issue the words.
He would feel that rage because of a gentleman’s treatment of me? She wetted her lips. “I...” Could not speak of it. For even as desperate as Derek was for a governess for Flora, even he was not so very desperate to turn that post over to his brother’s whore. She gave her head a shake. “I...” Her words ended on a shuddery whisper as he brushed his knuckles in a sweeping movement from her cheek to her chin. Then back. The caress was rhythmic and soothing.
“I’ve need of you, Lily,” he said again, allowing Lily her secret. “That need does not require you to warm my bed.”
But what if I wish to? Lily squeezed her eyes shut a moment, shamed by her wanton desire for his strong, sure touch.
“I am not of a mind to run through cowering governess after cowering governess. You are, for reasons I do not understand, unafraid of me.” Derek peered at her. With the intensity of his impenetrable gaze, there was the horrifying moment where she believed he could see into her thoughts to the sins of her past.
Wordlessly, he let his arm fall to his side.
Her skin went cold at the loss of his touch and snapped her from the desirous reverie he’d cast. She blinked slowly.
Derek stomped his cane to the floor twice. “You are to care for Flora.”
Flora, when all other times he’d called her by nothing other than “the girl”. She cocked her head at this unexpected softening in him. She managed a jerky nod. “I-I can d-do that.” She had to find that diamond. Needed to do Holdsworth’s evil bidding. The sooner she found the bloody diamond, the sooner she could be free of this household and free of Derek’s ever-strengthening hold upon her and her senses. “But why?” she blurted. “Why should you dismiss the concerns of a servant who has been faithful to your family for countless years?” For me? Why, when people had long ago stopped seeing good in her soul?
He shifted his weight over the serpent-headed cane in his hands. “Why?” he repeated. White lines tightened the corners of his lips and his skin turned an ashen hue. A vise squeezed her heart at the evidence of his pain. A hard smile formed on his lips. “The truth is, Lily, my staff fears me.” And with good reason. With his scathing words and black glares, he’d rouse terror in the unholiest beast. All of those servants failed to see the façade their employer had crafted to protect himself from further hurt. “All fear me,” he carried on in a silken whisper. “My own mother and brother did, as well.”
Agony lanced her heart at that matter-of-fact deliverance. Having bore witness to the heartlessness of those two, she could imagine how they’d look upon their scarred son and brother, and Lily hated them all over again. Hated them for reasons that had nothing to do with her own suffering, but for this man’s pain.
“Yet strangely,” he continued. “You do not.” He shot his other arm out and ran the pad of his thumb over her lower lip. “How can that be?”
Lily tr
embled at his slight touch and leaned into his caress. “When I was a girl of fifteen, I met a gentleman.” Derek stiffened. His expression curiously blank, he dropped his arm to his side. Mourning the loss of his caress, she forced herself to go on. “He was riding in the countryside. I was walking in the hillside and our paths crossed.” And she’d been paying for that meeting since. The memories slipped in, dragging her into her past. The late duke had stunk of brandy and spirits, his rumpled garments bespoke an evening of carousing, but as a girl she’d been too foolish to see any of that. She curled her fingers so tight her nails dug vicious crescents onto the soft flesh of her palms.
With his penetrating stare, Derek urged her on with her telling.
She forced herself to unfurl her hands. “The gentleman was magnificent,” she said, emotionless. “He had glorious golden tresses and a face the archangel Gabriel would have envied.” Even with that black-hearted scoundrel’s beauty, George paled in his younger brother’s more impressive, darker shadow.
A muscle ticked at the corner of Derek’s black patch. “And?” he gritted out.
She gave her head a clearing shake. “That gentleman’s soul proved to be black and ugly and all things vile.” Lily claimed Derek’s left hand. She turned over the large, powerful palm and studied the scars that marred the, no doubt, once perfect flesh. Both George and Sir Henry had worn fine gloves as though they were part of their skin. How very different Derek was from all others; so wholly real and raw. Lily pressed her hand to his and studied the joined palms. “I came to learn a man’s worth, honor, and beauty is about far more than the physical perfection one may have, by a matter of chance, been born with.”
His body jerked, as though she’d run him through with a jagged rapier. Where she’d once been the prey and he the hunter, with her telling, the roles were reversed. Derek stumbled away from her. His left leg buckled and he quickly caught himself with the use of his cane. “Will you accept the position or not, Mrs. Benedict?” he rasped.
Rescued By a Lady's Love (Lords of Honor, #3) Page 17
