The Marquess of Secrets (The Hornsby Brothers Book 3)

by Karyn Gerrard

  Robins nodded as he removed the notebook from his pocket once again and scribbled in it.

  Harrison smiled. That’s my brave girl. His admiration grew along with more intense emotions that were becoming harder to ignore.

  “Then if there is nothing else, my lord, I will take my leave.” Robins stood.

  “Do stay in touch. Youngston?”

  The butler stepped into the room. “Yes, my lord?”

  “Please escort Mr. Robins to the front entrance. Anytime he or his men come to the door, they are to be admitted immediately without question.”

  “Yes, my lord. Mr. Robins?”

  After slipping his notebook in his side pocket, he reached for his cane, then touched his forelock. “My lord. Miss Chesterton.”

  Once they were alone, Lydia buried her face in her hands, her delicate shoulders shaking. Harrison immediately moved to her side and gathered her into his embrace.

  “You are not being pursued by the police. You are not a suspect. Not all is lost, Lydia.”

  She sniffled against his coat, and nodded. After several moments, Lydia laid her hands against his chest and gently pushed him away. Harrison grasped her chin and met her gaze. Her eyes were red, her lower lip trembling.

  “What is it? What is going on, Lydia? Why did you take your meal in your room last night? Why are you pulling away from me?”

  “I don’t know where to begin.”

  “We’ve been honest with each other, don’t stop now.”

  She gazed up at him, sadness reflected in her eyes. “I wish I’d met you two years ago, but how and where? Seeing you’re the heir to a duke, our paths never would have crossed. I became upset when you mentioned that you will be looking for a wife. How completely inappropriate.”

  Lydia sighed wistfully. “I’m attracted to you, and I have no business saying this to you let alone feeling it. I thought it best to keep my distance. You see, I must take control of my life once again. I must stop living in fear. I don’t wish to be this scared, cowed woman any longer.”

  Harrison’s heart soared at her declaration of being attracted to him. “I don’t make of habit of seducing vulnerable women. Or bringing them to my home. But I have, haven’t I? Perhaps not the seducing part, but I’ve wanted to. God, how I’ve wanted to. The attraction is mutual. What do we do now?” he murmured.

  “I’ll take your offer of assistance of finding me a nursing position far from here. And I believe we should do this as soon as possible.”

  Well. He released her chin. “You’re hardly recovered enough to take such a step forward.”

  “I’m feeling stronger with each passing day. Perhaps we could find me a position in a town or village; I could take a room nearby and continue to recover. I would reimburse you as soon as I’m earning my way once again. Meanwhile, I still would like to assist you at the terminus. I need to feel useful, and I need to be able to pay you back in some way for your generosity and kindness.”

  Pain sliced through his heart, and he didn’t like the sensation. “However, entering into an affair with me is not the way you wish to ‘pay me back.’”

  Her eyes widened. “Affair?”

  “Would you be adverse to us having one? Or have I insulted you? There is nothing I wish for more than having you in my bed. In my arms. But I would never insist on it, nor would I take it as payment. I would want you to come to me of your own accord. Because you want me. Desire me. No other reason.”

  Her expression remained a combination of shock and trepidation. Hang it, he should have kept his desires to himself. She’d just left a poisonous, abusive relationship. Lydia needed time to heal not only physically, but mentally and emotionally. God, he was a selfish bastard. What possessed him to speak so frankly? Reveal his true feelings? Hell, he was well versed in hiding his emotions in most situations. Lydia broke apart all the barriers—the ones he’d spent years building.

  “Forget I said that. The inane uttering of an arrogant, entitled peer.” Harrison stood. “I must take my leave. I’ve numerous appointments this afternoon. I’ll return for dinner at seven. Will you join me?”

  “Yes.”

  Lydia answered in a strong voice, no trembling or fluttering that he could see or hear. Embarrassed, he gave her a stiff bow and exited the room before he made a further fool of himself. As he rushed outside, he laid a hand against his cheek. The skin burned red-hot. Anger for showing his vulnerable side, and damn it all, he did have one. Harrison caught a hansom cab and instructed the driver to take him to The Red Lion pub.

  Waiting for him in the corner booth was Sam and William Robins. Harrison slid across the seat, a pint of bitter already sitting on the table for him. He needed the libation after that awkward conversation with Lydia. Thankfully on the short journey he was able to arrange his features into detached indifference. In other words, the bored look of a peer.

  “The pies are ordered,” Sam said. “William has brought me up to date. Quite the tale.”

  “Yes, quite.” Harrison was still annoyed by his conversation with Lydia, and answered Sam a little too sharply. His friend, who knew him well, wisely let it pass. “Well? The remainder of your report, Mr. Robins?”

  The man’s battered notebook sat on the table before him. “Regarding Lydia Chesterton: her reputation at St. Thomas is stellar. In fact, I discovered that she was being discussed for a promotion as an operating theater nurse. Before they could formally offer the position, she disappeared. As far as I could glean, she was a private person, no one knew of her personal life. I investigated her previous address. She lived there with her widower schoolmaster father until his death. Everything that she relayed to you is the truth.”

  Harrison was silently relieved. He wouldn’t have proposed an affair with a woman he didn’t trust, but it was gratifying to learn his judgment of her character was not misplaced.

  “Thank you, Mr. Robins, for your due diligence. Keep your surveillance on Huntsford.” Harrison took a long draw on his pint.

  “Don’t thank me yet, my lord. I regret to inform you the surveillance may have been comprised. I admonish myself for using a new employee. The young man believes that he was followed, but he cannot be sure, however. You may want to remain cautious. I can place a man on you to make sure you are not being followed. No extra charge, of course.”

  Harrison’s blood boiled at a dangerous heat. Damn it all, this man was supposed to be one of the best. Sliding his gaze to Sam, his annoyance grew. He’d hired this man at his friend’s recommendation. Sam gave him a sheepish, apologetic look.

  “You’re annoyed, my lord, and I don’t blame you. I assure you that my work is usually not this slipshod.” Mr. Robins looked contrite.

  “Followed where, exactly?”

  “Again, my man is not certain.”

  Harrison pushed the pint away from him. He didn’t like the sounds of this. Not at all. He glanced about the boisterous pub. There were clusters of men sitting at tables and standing at the bar. Any one of them could be Huntsford or someone he hired.

  “You’ve seen Huntsford, have you not?” he asked Robins.

  “From a distance. He’s not here, I checked. Nor was I followed. I’m quite skilled at throwing off the scent. The man is six feet in height, lean, brown hair, longish, here to the collar.” Robins pointed to the collar of his coat. “A rumpled appearance, often unshaven. Sometimes wears spectacles, sometimes not. Good-looking enough to attract women, but he has a cold way about him. A cruel slant to his mouth. Altogether unsavory.”

  Harrison knew the type. Malicious to the core, cold-hearted. Caring only for their comforts. How Lydia could give her heart to such a man…well, usually these men were charm incarnate until they got what they wanted.

  The pies were delivered to the table, and Harrison turned his attention to his meal. Could this Huntsford be dangerous? Or like most of these men, making threats without following them through? Best to remain cautious.

  Across the pub, a man with a beard sat nursing a
pint while closely watching them. Harrison glared at him in return. Hard to ascertain his hair color as he wore a cap, though the beard was black. The man looked away. Was he being paranoid? Yes, vigilance would be prudent.

  Harrison cut into his pie. “Have a man watch my residence and follow my movements by all means.”

  “Yes, my lord. I will undertake some of the surveillance personally.”

  A roll of unease blazed through Harrison. Along with the undeniable urge to protect Lydia at all costs. And by God, he would.

  * * *

  Four days later, feeling much recovered, Lydia sat in Harrison’s study at his large oak desk, pen and paper before her. Youngston had brought her afternoon tea on a tray. The staff was unfailingly polite, but they also cast a wary eye her way on occasion, as if protecting their employer. She couldn’t fault them.

  How to describe the relief she experienced at hearing she wasn’t sought by the police? A weight had lifted from her tortured soul. But it only gave a modicum of comfort, for there was still much to be worked out. As for this note, she would do as Mr. Robins suggested, write the hospital, apologize for her sudden disappearance, and ensure that they would provide a reference when she needed it. Once she was settled in another district. Dipping the pen into the ink, she scratched out sincere reparations.

  What excuse? Illness? It wasn’t exactly a lie, for she was sick to her soul. She’d caught a fever that had blinded her from making common sense judgments. But that fever passed and her mind was clear for the first time in many months. She wrote out a brief, but sincere note, using illness as an impetus, and stated that she’d been taken away to recover. Not actually a lie considering the bout of mild pneumonia. Lydia also wrote that she was so ill, she could not write nor instruct anyone to contact the hospital. She offered her resignation, for she would be seeking employment elsewhere once recovered. Lydia sincerely thanked the hospital for their faith in her, then signed her name.

  Folding the paper in half, she slipped it in the envelope. How to mail it? Lord, she couldn’t even afford the postage, for she had not a penny to her name. Harrison would know what to do.

  Harrison.

  An affair. Harrison had caught her completely off guard. It is all she thought about the past few days. Yes, she guessed he was attracted to her, and the feeling was reciprocated—but an affair? There was no denying she was tempted.

  No. Not at this time—if at all. Too much had happened. Lydia could not expose her vulnerable heart to another man, no matter how he appealed. And Harrison did, in so many ways.

  “Excuse me, Miss Best?”

  Lydia turned in her chair. Youngston stood in the doorway. “Yes?”

  “His lordship has sent word he will not be able to make it for dinner. He said you may have yours in the dining room or a tray in your room, whatever you choose.”

  Harrison was still embarrassed and no doubt admonishing himself for making the suggestion of an affair, and would continue to keep his distance. He attended dinner that first night, though there wasn’t much conversation, but since? He obviously regretted his proposal. How could she come to such a conclusion about him in only a couple of weeks’ acquaintance? The flush of his cheeks was ample proof. And the fact she hadn’t seen him since. Perhaps she was not the only one with vulnerabilities. She should take his withdrawal as a blessing, for the last thing Lydia wished to do was to frustrate or anger him by refusing his proposition.

  “I will take a tray in my room, thank you.”

  The sooner they made arrangements for her to take employment elsewhere, the better.

  Protect her heart.

  Lydia had no other choice.

  Chapter 14

  Harrison must return home sooner rather than later. For all his proclamations that he was not a coward, he was the very epitome of one at the moment. God, he acted as a hurt, spoiled child being refused sweets. During the past four days he kept his distance from Lydia. He’d stayed all night at terminus, and done so the night before last. Swaying on his feet, it was past noon and he was ready to collapse.

  “Right you are.” Sister Monica clasped his elbow and pulled him toward the rear office. She was blasted strong for a woman, or perhaps he was in such a weakened condition the older nun could take charge and practically drag him across the floor. Regardless, he didn’t fight her.

  “That is more than enough, your lordship,” she whispered fiercely in his ear. “You’re dead on your feet.” She steered him into the chair, then closed the makeshift door. “Harrison, you have me worried. What’s going on, my dear? You have the look of a man tortured by demons.”

  Tortured by demons—of his making. Yes, it was clear that he was his own worst enemy in several areas of his life.

  “I’m avoiding a woman.”

  Sister Monica’s eyebrow arched. “Care to discuss it?”

  “With a nun? No, I think not.”

  “Oh, come now,” she scoffed. “You think I was born in this habit? I had a life before taking my vows. I was even courted by a man.”

  “My apologies,” Harrison murmured wearily. “I made an utterly asinine suggestion to a young woman who deserves better from me.”

  “Then you must make amends and apologize at once.”

  “Sound advice.”

  Sister Monica crossed her arms and frowned. “You haven’t taken my last bit of sage advice to heart at all. Here you are working yourself into a sickbed—or worse.” Her expression softened. “You cannot treat the world entire. Cure all of its ills. All you can do is make your mark in your small corner of the world. And you have, Harrison. You cannot do more, not without doing serious harm to yourself. Rest here; lay your head on the desk. In two hours time, I’ll wake you, and you must return home and rest further. Understand?”

  “Yes.” He did as Monica suggested, and the last he remembered, a blanket was gently laid across his shoulders.

  By the time the kindly nun roused him close to three hours later, he was able to depart under his own steam, though his legs still trembled from exhaustion. Once he arrived home and stepped out of the cab, Youngston and Gillis assisted him upstairs, undressed him, and bundled him into bed. His dreams were fractured, strange, borne from bone-numbing fatigue. In his nightmare he attended a ball in his full Dr. Damian outfit, his apron spattered with blood. He tried to gain the attention of the lords and ladies, but they looked away in disgust.

  Rubbing his eyes, Harrison tried to get his bearings. Wake up, you fool. Apparently he did care what society thought of him. What a distasteful discovery. Among the disdainful crowd? His own family. They turned their backs on him. Was he fearful that his family would reject his secret life? It made no sense. His family always championed good causes.

  No, it wasn’t only his secretive doctor duties, but all the lies he’d told over years. Harrison should have been forthright about it. What a hash he’d made of things. Damn all the obstacles. Damn all his rationalizations. And damn his craven ways.

  Harrison cracked open his eyes and found himself in complete darkness. Someone was in the room with him. He inhaled, and the scent of wildflowers filled his senses. With a strike from a match, Lydia lit the gas lamp next to his bed and golden light surrounded him, causing him to squint.

  “It’s ten o’clock. At night, obviously,” she murmured. “You didn’t come home last night. I won’t ask where, it’s not my business.”

  “I was at terminus.”

  “Oh.”

  “You thought I was with a woman?” he asked as he rubbed his eyes again, trying to clear the fog from his vision.

  Lydia sighed. “I assumed that’s where most men go when they storm out. At least, that has been my experience. Especially since you did not come home the night before that.”

  Harrison sat upright, the blanket slipping to his waist, exposing his bare chest. He didn’t bother to cover it. And Lydia didn’t hide her heated look as she inspected him closely. He reveled in the attention. Though he’d lost weight, he still managed
to keep himself in reasonable shape.

  “Allow me to apologize once again for suggesting an affair. It was borne out of selfishness on my part; I had no business making such a proposal. I offended you. I was embarrassed by my behavior. Overwhelmed with emotion. And, as is typical of me, I kept my distance.”

  There. Apology given. Sincerely meant.

  Lydia’s gaze traveled upward until it locked with his. “We are a pair, aren’t we? When feelings become too much to handle, we withdraw. I wasn’t offended. In fact, I was—am—tempted.”

  His heart beat double-time at her forthright statement.

  “Temptation aside,” Lydia continued, “I am not ready for those types of relations. However brief, however passionate. Huntsford has not completely ruined me; I refuse to allow him to achieve such a triumph. I could make a declaration that I will never become involved with another man ever again. But I won’t. No, he will not have that victory over me.” Her voice was unwavering, determined.

  In truth, Harrison could not fault her reasoning, but his heart throbbed with regret nonetheless. “So not is all lost between us? Or is it wishful thinking on my part?”

  “I honestly don’t know what the future will bring. I can only stay focused here in the present. I’m not saying no, I am saying—not at this exact time.” Her gaze slid downward, the sheet did not conceal the fact that he was aroused. “I want to crawl into bed with you, curl up next to your warmth. Have you hold me and tell me all will be well.”

  Harrison tossed aside the sheet. “Then come and let me hold you. Regardless of my aroused state, I will not take advantage. You have my word. Do you trust me?”

  He was naked. Exposed—in more ways than one. Boldly, her gaze slid to that aching and hard part of him. Her admiring look filled him with masculine pride.

  “I do trust you, Harrison. If I show moments of doubt or seemingly withdraw, know it’s not because of you.”

  Lydia stood, kicked off her slippers, then lay beside him, on her side, facing away from him. Harrison curled about her, pulling her close, his erection no doubt prodded her back. Lying in his embrace, she didn’t flinch or pull away. The trust was there, taking root, and his heart soared.