The Reluctant Duchess (3 page)

Sara jumped up, opened her mouth, then closed it. She believed a small squeak escaped her, but she couldn't be certain.

“That's preposterous,” she stammered. “I cannot possibly stay here.”

“You can and you will,” Ross said, then turned toward Mr. Montgomery as if his word were law and she would obey simply because he told her to.

What had Meredith seen in this man? He was an autocratic bully.

Before she could think twice, she snagged his elbow, halting his conversation. He turned back to her, raised a brow, and looked pointedly at his arm. She let go of his arm, but she didn't back down, and a small part of her was surprised at her audacity.

“I can't. And I won't,” she said, her voice quavering.

He stared at her, but Sara wasn't backing down. She wasn't going to allow him to…to…
bully
her into submission. That type of treatment may have worked for others of his acquaintance, but it would
not
work for her. Not now. This was too important.

“Believe me, Lady Sara, as much as I would not like it to be so, there is no other option.”

She leaned away from him, stunned that his words hurt. “I apologize if I'm a burden to you, Your Grace. That was never my intention.”

His lips thinned. Montgomery coughed and shuffled his feet.

Rossmoyne crossed his arms and spread his legs wide. “Tell me, Lady Sara, why
did
you come to my doorstep and tell me about the letters if not to burden me?”

Swift and potent, her anger rose to an alarming degree. All her life Sara had been the quiet one, the docile one, the good one. But right now she wanted to be none of that. She wanted to tell Rossmoyne what she thought of him, and she was fairly certain she would not use polite terms.

“My apologies. I had thought you were sincere when you told my family that if we needed anything, we could call on you. Apparently, those were just empty words to make you feel better about yourself.” She swiped her reticule off the settee and headed toward the door. But before she left, she turned and looked at Montgomery. “Sir William, now that the letters are in your hands, I trust something will be done to find the letter writer. If you should need my assistance, I am staying at the Langham. You may reach me there.”

She opened the study door and left, congratulating herself for not slamming the door closed behind her. She only made it a few steps before the door opened and shut behind her.

“Sara, wait.”

She kept walking, hurrying more than she wanted to, but she had to get out of there before she exploded or before she said something she would truly regret. But Rossmoyne was beside her and then in front of her before she could reach the front door. He pressed his back against the door, causing her to pull up short.

“Please move,” she whispered.

“Not before I apologize.”

She lifted her gaze to the silver buttons on his black waistcoat. “I neither need nor want your apology. You made it quite clear what you thought of me.”

“I didn't mean what I said.”

She laughed, but it was a bitter laugh. “There is no need to lie.”

“I don't lie, my lady. And please look at me.”

She clenched her jaw and looked him in the eyes. His eyes were light brown, a whiskey color. How had she not noticed that before? They were quite beautiful, if one could say that about a man's eyes.

Beautiful eyes or not, he was still a…a…
brute
.

He'd shaved his beard off, which made him look less like a brute and more like a duke. His jaw was strong, his lips…

Oh, this would not do, thinking about his lips when she was so angry with him.

“My abject apologies,” he said. “It's not been a good day.” He looked away and shook his head. “That's no excuse.”

“No, it's not.”

He looked her in the eyes and she had to force herself not to fall into all of that whiskey goodness. “Two years ago I offered my services in good faith, and I meant what I said. I will help you find who is writing these letters.”

He took her hand and held it between his own. He was not wearing gloves and she was, but it was almost as if she weren't. His hands were so warm that they nearly singed her through the soft kid of her gloves.

“I'm worried about you,” he said softly. “This person knows you are in London, and despite the fact that you have James, I don't feel you're safe enough in the hotel. Besides, it's not entirely appropriate for you to be staying in a hotel with just a footman and a maid.”

“And it's appropriate for me to stay here? With you?”

“My mother is here as well. She will be our chaperone.”

So the duchess was in residence. It lent a bit more credibility, but still people would talk. People would also talk if they discovered she was staying at the Langham.

“We can tell them that your father's townhouse needed some repairs and it will not be habitable for a few weeks. We can even circulate the rumor that my mother asked you to stay with us.”

She hesitated, her anger slowly draining from her. The thought of returning to Hadley Springs was depressing. She hadn't realized how freeing it would feel to be away from her father, whom she loved dearly, but whose constant brooding and his ability to turn his back on anything that resembled reality was exhausting. She hadn't realized it until the last few days, but she had been rotting away in Hadley Springs, existing but not living, pretending that her committees and her few friends and her teas were enough.

Oh, how she wanted to stay in London, but what of the impropriety? Residing with the duke and his mother could be acceptable if they spun the story just right. The duke was powerful enough that if people talked, they would not talk for long.

And it wasn't as if Sara cared what society thought. She was far past the marrying age, and even if she were in the market for a husband, she could not marry. Not when someone had to watch over her father, for he was certainly incapable of watching over himself.

However, she didn't particularly like the Duke of Rossmoyne and didn't want to be in such close proximity to him. He was handsome enough, but his attitude and his bearing were off-putting, and she didn't want to encounter that on a daily basis.

On the other hand, if she were in residence, she could keep a close eye on him, and he wouldn't have the opportunity to push her away when she wanted to help with the investigation of the letters.

When she'd traveled to London, she'd done so out of fear and with the thought that she needed the help of someone very powerful. The most powerful man of her acquaintance was the Duke of Rossmoyne. So she had traveled here with the outside hope that he would help. She'd had no thought past that. No idea, really, of what he would do.

Now that she was here, she found that she wasn't as willing to retreat to her life in Hadley Springs. She wanted to help, because for so long she'd felt so helpless. So maybe staying here would be a good thing.

“That's an awful lot of thought going through your head,” he said in amusement.

“There's a lot to think about.”

“Not really.”

She raised a brow at him. “No? You're asking me to move in to your home.”

“For a short time only.”

She tapped her toe in thought. “Very well,” she said. “I will accept your kind offer, Your Grace.”

“Thank you,” he said with what seemed like true gratitude.

She grinned. “Don't thank me just yet. You may regret your rash decision.”

His lips quivered, then turned up at the corners, and for the first time Sara witnessed his smile. The way it transformed his face into something very close to beautiful nearly took her breath away.

Oh,
what have you done, Sara Rose?

The poor hotel manager. Sara felt sorry for the man. He was all smiles and pleased exclamations when he saw the Duke of Rossmoyne walk through his door. The smiles quickly faded when he was introduced to Sir William Montgomery, a Scotland Yard inspector. Montgomery's stern visage did nothing to alleviate Mr. Smithy's sudden nervousness.

“I would like a word,” Rossmoyne said.

Mr. Smithy's eyes widened and his hands visibly shook. “Of course, Your Grace.”

“In private,” Rossmoyne added.

Sara stepped around Rossmoyne and shot him a censorious look. “If you please, Mr. Smithy, we would like to ask you a few questions about an incident that happened earlier today. That is, if you're available.”

Behind her, Rossmoyne made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. Sara ignored him.

Smithy's gaze bounced from Sara to Rossmoyne to Sir William. “Of course,” he said. “This way, please.”

Sara, Rossmoyne, and Montgomery followed in that order. James trailed them all. They made quite the procession through the lobby of the Langham. People stopped to stare and conversations faltered. Though Sara tried to ignore it all, she'd never been one to delight in being the center of attention. She supposed being in the company of Rossmoyne would produce such a reaction to the general public. He and Meredith had been extremely popular during their betrothal, and his popularity had not waned since then, but that didn't mean she liked being swept up in it. She much preferred to stay in the background when it came to society.

Just another reason she didn't want to be around him. She couldn't take much more of the stares. Her heart was already thundering in anxiety, and she wanted nothing more than to hide behind Rossmoyne's back, but she was determined not to do that, so she brazened it out as best she could. It felt as if they walked for an eternity, though in reality it was under a minute.

Mr. Smithy took them to a private sitting room and faced them nervously, his face white with what she supposed was apprehension.

“Lady Sara Emerson received a letter this morning that was delivered to your hotel,” Rossmoyne said.

Mr. Smithy's gaze jumped to Sara, then back to Rossmoyne. “I am not aware of a letter, Your Grace, but that is not something I would be involved in.”

“I need to speak to the man who received the letter,” Rossmoyne said.

Mr. Smithy visibly swallowed. “Of course, Your Grace. However, I don't know who would have received the letter.”

“Well, find out, man. It's imperative.”

Sara put her hand on Rossmoyne's arm. She felt his muscle twitch and stiffen. “Mr. Smithy, my footman and I would recognize the man who gave us the letter.”

Mr. Smithy jerked his head in a nod. “Of course, my lady. If you could point him out to me, I would be happy to bring him to you.”

Sara and Mr. Smithy walked to the closed door. When Sara realized that Rossmoyne and Montgomery had every intention of following, she stopped and said softly to Rossmoyne, “I don't believe we need an entire procession. James and I can identify the man ourselves.”

“I don't like you out there by yourself.”

She was not going to walk out there again with Rossmoyne, in front of all those people who would stop and stare. “There is no need to call any more attention to ourselves than we already have. We're merely pointing the man out. No need to alarm him with your and Montgomery's presence.”

Rossmoyne's expression turned mulish. He crossed his arms and planted his feet wide. “Whoever sent that letter could be in the lobby.”

“I highly doubt he will grab me in such a public place.” Goose bumps raced up her arms. She had never fully put into words her greatest fear. That the man who had brutally murdered Meredith would come after her and actually grab her. Just the thought made her stomach heave. “It will be fine,” she whispered.

His jaw muscle worked, but he nodded anyway. “Very well. I will give you ten minutes before I come looking for you.”

She patted his arm and smiled. “I assure you, there is no need. James's only job is to protect me, and he will be right beside me.”

Ross ignored the curious look Montgomery gave him as he watched Sara walk out of the private sitting room with the hotel manager. She seemed to put a lot of faith in her servant, but Ross wasn't as confident. Servants could be bought.

He paced to the other end of the room, tapping his fingers against his thighs as the minutes dragged by. He wasn't certain why he was concerned about Sara's safety. All he knew was that he had this unreasonable need to keep her safe.

In a way that he hadn't kept Meredith safe.

He forced his mind from that direction. It had taken him a long time to stop thinking of Meredith every moment of every day. He still thought of her occasionally, but days could go by without a single thought of her. When that happened, he felt guilty. After all, he owed her his thoughts, at the very least, since he hadn't been there for her at the end.

“She should have returned by now,” he said.

“It sounds quiet out there. Doesn't sound like someone being kidnapped.”

“You are not amusing.”

Montgomery smiled. “She will be fine.”

“Nevertheless.” Ross strode toward the door, but it opened before he could reach it. To his bemused relief, Sara sailed through with a bright smile that had him stopping in his tracks. Her smile changed her. Made her seem less dour. More…pretty. Not beautiful, like Meredith, but a quiet kind of pretty that eased his anxiety.

“Here we are,” she announced to no one in particular. Behind her were Mr. Smithy and a nervous-looking man whose wide eyes locked on Ross.

“This is Mr. Moore,” Sara said. “Mr. Moore, may I present the Duke of Rossmoyne and Sir William Montgomery.”

“Y-Your Grace,” Mr. Moore stuttered as he executed a swift bow. “Mr. Montgomery.”

Montgomery nodded. “We apologize for keeping you from your duties, Mr. Moore, but we have some questions that could not wait.”

Moore nodded. “Of course.”