The Reluctant Duchess (8 page)

“You startled me,” she said as she made her way up the terrace steps.

“Forgive me. I didn't mean to.”

She stopped before him. He appeared tired. His eyes were red, his face pale. Of course, that could be because he'd been drinking the night before.

“You left me here.” It wasn't exactly what she wanted to say, but she couldn't possibly say what was on her mind. That she wanted him to kiss her again. That she wanted to feel his lips upon hers, and this time she would know what to do, how to respond. No, she definitely couldn't say that.

“Of course I did.” He acted as if there had been no other option.

“I thought we agreed that I would be involved in this investigation.”

“I don't remember coming to any such agreement. You stated that you wanted to be involved.”

Oh, this man aggravated her to no end. “You knew what I meant.”

“I knew what you meant, but that doesn't mean I agreed to it.”

“You are bloody arrogant.” She wanted to stomp her foot but thought better of it at the last minute. She would not act childish, no matter how childish he made her want to act.

His lips twitched, and for a heart-stopping moment she wished with all her heart that he would smile. She imagined that his smile would be beautiful and transform his face into something angelic.

“Calling me names won't get you what you want,” he said.

“Probably not, but it makes me feel better.”

His half smile slipped away, and once again he was the dour duke. “Montgomery and I went to the hackney stand and questioned the driver on duty the night Meredith was killed.”

“And?” She forgot to be angry when there could be a lead in the investigation.

“And nothing. He remembers no more than he did two years ago.”

“It's been an awfully long time. People's memories fade.”

“Very true.”

She folded her arms across her body and looked out at the gardens. “I just want to know what happened that night. Who did that to our Meredith and why? That's all I need.”

“Do you think knowing it will make things better?”

“Nothing will make things better again unless we can go back to that night and stop it all from happening.” She shook away the melancholy. “So what is our next move? Where do we go from here?”

That almost-smile played around his lips again. Unbidden came the image of those lips pressed against hers. She tried to shake that away as well, but it didn't budge.

“
We
are going to eat lunch. Montgomery is waiting for us.”

“That's not what I meant, and you know it.”

He sighed and ran a hand through all that unfashionably long hair. It dropped back in waves to his shoulders, curling slightly at the ends. “I know.”

When it was apparent he was not going to say more, she turned to go back into the house.

“My lady.”

She turned back to find him standing against the terrace wall, the sunlight behind him picking out the red in his hair. She could not quite define his expression. He looked pained.

“I'm residing in your home, and as your mother said, we were almost family, so you may call me Sara.”

He tipped his head. “My friends call me Ross.”

“Am I a friend?”

“I would like to think so.”

“Then Ross it is.”

“Sara.”

“Yes, Ross?”

“About last night.”

Oh, Lord. She was not nearly experienced enough to know how to act in this situation. She'd kissed only one man in her life, and he happened to be standing in front of her, determined to talk about that kiss. And while it had been foremost in her mind all of last night and all of today, she wasn't entirely certain she wanted to discuss it with him.

“My behavior was inappropriate, and I apologize.”

This was not what she wanted to hear. She didn't want apologies. She wanted…She wasn't certain what she wanted.

“There were two of us in that room,” she said.

He shook his head. “That's very admirable of you, but I'm the one to blame.”

Blame? Oh, how that hurt.

“I'm sorry that you regret it.”

He flinched. “Please know it will never happen again.”

She refused to let him see that he'd shattered her fragile hope that maybe she meant more to him than she really did. She did what she'd done her entire life. She pasted on a smile and lifted her chin. “Don't be silly. I know it meant nothing. You'd been drinking. We'd been talking about Meredith. Both of those things got the best of you. Now, let us go to luncheon before the others start looking for us. Besides, we have to speak to Mr. Montgomery about what we're to do next.”

Ross continued to stand there, watching her with a thoughtful, pained expression. Surely he wouldn't say more. Surely he would let the entire episode go and not cause her any more grief. Already she could feel how brittle her smile was.

Eventually, he nodded and offered her his arm, and together they went to find the others for lunch.

Today Ross's mother was not able to pull him into the conversation, so the three eventually conversed without him. He didn't care. He was in a foul mood, and conversation was the last thing he wanted.

After Sara had fled the study last night, he'd proceeded to drink more, but the whiskey didn't produce the desired effect. In fact, it seemed to make him more sober. All he could think about was the shocked look on her face, the way her trembling fingers covered her mouth. He'd wanted to curse himself and kick himself for his rude behavior.

The lady had come to him for help and protection, and what had he done? He molested her in his own study, the one place she should have felt the safest. He was the lowest of the low—the degenerate that society whispered he had become.

And then Montgomery had shown up early in the morning and asked Ross to accompany him on what proved to be a waste of time. No one would remember more. Too much time had passed.

And yet it seemed one person remembered and was determined to make Sara and Ross remember as well.

He'd had to apologize to her. He'd dreaded it, but he'd known he had to do it, if only to let her know that she was still safe within these walls. She shouldn't have to fear him as well as the outside forces that had driven her here.

“Ross?”

He pulled his gaze from the lamb that he had been poking with his fork. “Yes?”

His mother gave him a pinched look. He remembered those looks well. She had perfected the art of chastising without saying a word.

“My apologies. I was woolgathering.”

“Obviously.” She arched her brows at him. “Lady Sara was wondering if there was a lending library close by. I thought it would be a wonderful idea to take her shopping as well.”

“No.”

Three pairs of eyes looked at him in astonishment. Bloody hell. He was not up to his mother's machinations today. His head pounded unmercifully, and the entire day had been a futile effort to learn more about the letters Sara had received and to keep from thinking about the kiss that he didn't necessarily regret yet knew he should regret.

“Why ever not?” his mother asked in that voice that told him she was not at all pleased with his behavior.

“Mother, Lady Sara is not here for shopping and lending libraries.”

Elizabeth looked at Sara in confusion.

“Actually,” Sara said carefully, “part of my reason for visiting London was to acquire a more updated wardrobe.” She looked pointedly at Ross. “I would not mind doing a bit of shopping and getting a few books from the lending library.”

He cursed silently. Apparently, Sara had told his mother that she was here for some shopping. He'd look like an ass if he didn't let her go.

“James would come with us, of course,” she added.

Ross had no doubt that James was a fine bodyguard in Hadley Springs, but London was an entirely different city with entirely different horrors. He didn't trust James to protect Sara in London.

“When were you planning on going?” he asked.

Montgomery looked at him in pity, as if he knew that Ross was not only treading on thin ice, but that ice had already cracked. Hell and damnation.

“Really, Ross, I don't know why you're so concerned. We're perfectly safe doing a spot of shopping. But if you're so worried, then why don't you join us?” His mother shot him a sly look.

What in the world was she up to? Ross knew her well enough to know she was up to something that didn't bode well for him.

Montgomery placed his napkin on the table and stood. “I just remembered that I have a meeting to attend at Scotland Yard. While I would like nothing better than to escort two beautiful women through a shopping adventure”—he appeared to try not to choke on those words—“I fear I must be off. Good day.”

Montgomery made a hasty exit, leaving Ross with two pairs of hopeful eyes looking at him.

“I would rather be boiled in tar than go shopping,” he said.

Sara made a sound like she was biting back laughter. Her eyes, those beautiful eyes that he just recently learned were more gold-flecked than brown, danced in merriment.

His mother, however, was less than pleased. “Then it's settled,” she said with an authority he had never been able to overcome. “We will meet outside in a half hour, and you will take us shopping. Ross, call for the coach.”

She left the room.

Ross stared at Sara, who was laughing into her napkin. The footman behind her was trying to appear stoic, but Ross swore the man's lips twitched.

“This is not funny,” he said.

Sara's eyes were watering. “F-forgive me, but it is rather humorous.”

“I see no humor in this.”

“Maybe you will find a fine pair of riding gloves that you simply must have.”

He bit back a frustrated growl.

Ross chose to wait outside the milliner's while his mother and Sara dawdled inside. They may have dragged him here against his will, but he was damned if he would enter every establishment that caught their eye. James, on the other hand, was not so lucky. He stood inside the door with a pained expression. Between Ross and James, Ross deduced that Sara was safe enough.

“Hey, guv.”

Ross looked down to find Thomas squinting up at him. The boy had a black eye, but other than that, he looked like the same impish urchin he had seen the day before.

“Thomas. A pleasure to see you, lad.”

Thomas sidled around until he was leaning against the wall in the same position Ross was: arms crossed, one boot crossed over the other.

“What happened to your eye?” Ross asked.

“Me mum.”

“Your mother blackened your eye?”

Thomas shrugged as if it were nothing that his mother had hit him hard enough to bruise his eye. “Told me to quit carrying tales about entering prop'sitions with dukes.”

Ross choked but tried to cover it up with a cough. “Maybe you should not tell your mother you've entered into an agreement with a duke.”

“Had to 'splain the sixpence and the half crown somehow.”

“Ah.” Ross wasn't sure what to say about that. “So she didn't believe you?”

“Said I was tellin' tall tales.”

Thomas set a shrewd eye upon a dandy walking by with an expensive pocket watch chain dangling out of his frock coat. The boy's eyes nearly gleamed. He made a move toward the dandy, but Ross hooked a finger in his collar and held him back. Thomas made a disgusted sound and looked longingly at the man as he walked away.

“Serves 'im right for lettin' it hang out. Just askin' for it.”

“Uh-huh. Have you learned anything new since our meeting yesterday?”

“Maybe.”

Ross looked sternly at the boy. “You get no payment until I hear what you have to say.”

Thomas looked in the direction that the dandy had disappeared, then back up at Ross. “Heard tell there was a gent stayin' at Mrs. Kettles's. Sounds like maybe the same gent you be lookin' for.”

“Mrs. Kettles?”

Thomas sighed in apparent disgruntlement at Ross's lack of knowledge. “Mrs. Kettles runs the biggest nethersken in the rookery. Heard the gent was stayin' there for a bit.”

A nethersken was an inexpensive lodging house usually frequented by the lowest of society—beggars and thieves and those evading the police. A nethersken wasn't always the nicest or safest place to be.

“And is this gent still there?”

Thomas shrugged again. “Might be. Might not. If he's on the tramp, he could be gone. But that weren't our prop'sition. You said I got the blunt if I had information.”

Ross looked at Thomas long and hard. The boy looked up at him through the blackened eye. He was no older than ten years of age and had far more knowledge of the streets than Ross would ever want. Ross had no idea if Thomas was lying to him, but he tended to believe he wasn't. The kid knew if he continued to give Ross solid information, then more money would come his way. Besides, it was Ross's fault the kid had a black eye.

“Where do I find this Mrs. Kettles?”

“St. Giles. Everyone knows Mrs. Kettles.”

Everyone except Ross. He dug in his pocket for his coin purse and fished out a half crown, handing it to Thomas, who snatched it lightning-fast and secreted it somewhere on his person.

“Remember, Thomas. If I find you're lying, I will not be happy.”

“I ain't lyin', guv.” And the boy was gone, slipping away after a gentleman strolling down the street with a lady on his arm.

Ross shook his head and opted to stay where he was. In a way, Thomas was right. If the man was dense enough not to secure his belongings from the hundreds of cutpurses and pickpockets, then it wasn't Ross's fault, and the “gent” would learn his lesson.

The ladies emerged from the milliner's a few moments later, followed by James, who appeared even more beleaguered than when he'd entered. The carriage was already full of their purchases, and Ross figured it was time to put an end to this misery.