Daring the Duke Page 5

  “Good afternoon.” He greeted the others in attendance as his gaze swept over them. Had she doctored the tea for everyone? Was that the reason for Lillian’s laughter? Surely not.

  The guests started to set aside their plates and rise to curtsy, but he waved them back. “Please don’t rise on my account.” No one exhibited signs of too much alcohol. No stumbling or tipped plates or spilt tea. Even his mother was maintaining decorum. She must’ve imbibed prior to the arrival of her guests. Perhaps it was wearing off and all would be well.

  Elijah made his way around the room, greeting the dozen or so guests, even as he kept a watchful eye on his mother. Viscount Frost, Lillian’s brother, was one of the few men in attendance. He stood toward the back of the room near the terrace doors as though he might leave at any moment. Crowds seemed to make the man decidedly uneasy. Elijah understood the feeling.

  Lady Frost was seated closer to his mother, visiting in her friendly, charming way.

  Elijah arrived at Frost’s side, who held an empty plate as though uncertain what to do with it. “Kind of you to join us for tea,” Elijah said.

  “Hmm.” His uncomfortable look caused Elijah to smile. “Don’t know how she manages to do this.”

  “Who?” Elijah asked.

  “My wife. She talks me into doing things that I have no intention of doing. Such as coming here for tea. I would’ve sworn I refused more than once, yet here I am.”

  “One of the downfalls of marriage, eh?” Elijah grinned. He glanced about to see Frost’s teacup nearby. “How was the tea?”

  “Quite good as far as tea goes, though I prefer coffee. Why?”

  “Just curious.” He breathed a sigh of relief that Frost hadn’t noticed anything unusual about the refreshment.

  A maid offered him a cup and set a plate of sandwiches and biscuits on the table then relieved Frost of his empty plate. A quick sip of the steaming brew confirmed that it was only tea. How ridiculous that he’d suspected his mother of providing alcohol to all her guests.

  Elijah’s gaze returned to Lillian where she visited with another guest. “Is your sister enjoying her stay in London?”

  Frost frowned. “Difficult to say.”

  “Why is that?”

  “She doesn’t seem particularly fond of London yet is intent on staying for a time to attend the last balls and parties of the Season.”

  “Isn’t that what most young ladies her age do?”

  “I suppose it’s her lack of concern about finding a husband that makes me question her intent. Aren’t most women her age focused on that?”

  “I couldn’t say,” Elijah offered. “I don’t have any sisters with whom to compare. Though I don’t remember hearing any stories of your wife being fixated on finding a husband prior to your marriage.”

  Frost smiled. “True. She was too busy watching over her father. To think it all started over a book.”

  “A book?” Elijah frowned, wondering to what he referred.

  “Never mind,” Frost said with a wave of dismissal. “A story for another time. I hear you’re aiding Rutland with his charity.”

  “I am indeed. He sent me a copy of a terrible yet enlightening book—”

  “Let me guess. The Seven Curses of London?”

  “You’ve read it as well?”

  “Captain Nathaniel Hawke sent it to me over a year ago. Shocking to learn what’s occurring within a few miles of our homes.”

  “Truly. Easier to turn and look the other way, isn’t it?”

  “Many think so. Captain Hawke’s brother, the Earl of Adair, started a home for people in need of rescue as well.”

  “I heard about that at the house party I held not long ago. Very interesting premise.”

  Frost shook his head. “I prefer to be a silent partner in these endeavors.”

  “From what your lovely wife told my mother previously, I don’t believe that’s completely true.”

  “She mentioned the lads we’ve assisted?” At Elijah’s nod, he smiled. “Yes, I am involved with them. I happened to have an interesting conversation with a boy when he attempted to pick my pocket.”

  “Yet you trusted him enough to give him work from what she said. That’s remarkable.”

  “Hardly. Though I will say not all of them are willing to try a different lifestyle. Some are so used to the streets that they’re unwilling to see life could be different if they’d take a chance of a different sort.”

  “I haven’t yet read the chapter on professional thieves in the book,” Elijah admitted.

  “Unfortunately, many of the types of people who appear in one appear in another. Thieves and beggars, fallen women and drunkards. One seems to lead to another for some.”

  “Whatever are the two of you speaking about with such seriousness?” Lillian asked as she joined them. “I feel a distinct dreariness from this side of the room.”

  “We’re discussing the book Julia gave you,” Frost advised.

  “The Seven Curses one? I haven’t had a chance to read it yet.”

  “The subject matter is dark,” Elijah added. He doubted she’d be interested in such things.

  “I look forward to reading it as I know you and Julia, among others, have taken an active role in helping with the problems in London.”

  “Similar problems occur in the country, though one doesn’t always hear about them,” Frost said.

  Frost’s remark made Elijah wonder if any of the issues had arisen on his own estates, and he hadn’t been aware of them. One more thing to add to his growing list of items to check.

  “From what I understand, it can be difficult to determine who’s truly in need as opposed to those who are intent on trickery,” Lillian said, emphasizing the last word.

  Elijah sighed, wishing she would’ve brushed off the topic and changed it to another. Now he had another reason to admire her. How many young ladies her age were concerned or knowledgeable on such matters?

  Then he realized she was staring intently at him. It could’ve even been called a glare. Why would that be? He certainly hadn’t set out to trick anyone. He frowned, wondering if he misunderstood as she looked away to speak with her brother. Perhaps there was even more to Lady Lillian than he’d thought.

  Chapter Four

  “Alcohol has enough to answer for; but for one victim to its intoxicating qualities, two have ‘come to their deathbed’ through the various deadly poisons mixed with diluted liquors to give a fictitious strength and fire.”

  ~The Seven Curses of London

  Lillian’s heart pounded as the guests at the Duchess of Burbridge’s tea began to leave. She would make a terrible spy and an even worse thief.

  The idea of remaining behind to speak with the duchess and thereby spending a little more time with the duke hadn’t occurred to her until he’d mentioned trickery. How could he possibly act so innocent when he’d gone out of his way to trick poor Helena, going so far as to request a rendezvous then not appear?

  Nervous but determined, Lillian said her thanks along with Julia and Oliver then walked out of the drawing room alongside them as though she intended to leave. The book she’d read on vengeance hadn’t mentioned how nerve-wracking the experience could be. Then again, it had been little help.

  Before they were halfway through the foyer, she slowed. “I forgot to mention something to the duchess. Why don’t you two go ahead and send the carriage back for me?”

  Oliver frowned. “Are you certain you wouldn’t prefer us to wait for you?”

  “It might take several minutes, and I’m sure you’d like to return home to check on Julia’s father.” The earl had suffered from a bad night, and Lillian knew Julia was worried about him.

  “Are you sure?” Julia asked. “It will take at least twenty minutes before the carriage returns.”

  “That would be perfect. I’ll see you soon.” She waited for them to continue toward the door then turned back to the drawing room, steeling her nerves.

  The memory of her fri
end’s sad face guided Lillian as she stepped into the doorway of the drawing room where the duchess, now alone in the room, had returned to her chair.

  To Lillian’s surprise, the duchess poured the contents of a small silver flask into her cup then replaced the lid and tucked the flask into the cushion of her chair before taking a sip.

  The duchess liked to drink? It took a moment to process the fact, but what else could’ve been in the flask?

  Lillian wasn’t certain how to react. Did she proceed into the room and make light of it? Did she change her mind and catch Oliver and Julia before they left?

  She’d caught glimpses of the duchess’s grief this afternoon. Several times, the woman had lost track of the conversation, her gaze revealing distant thoughts and sadness. Did she use alcohol to cope with her loss? The idea brought a lump to Lillian’s throat.

  The sound of the duke’s voice drawing nearer from the hall sent her heart pounding all the harder. The last thing she wanted to do was to be caught standing in the doorway looking guilty.

  She drew a breath then cleared her throat as she continued into the drawing room, hoping the noise was enough to warn the other woman of her return.

  The duchess turned in surprise. “Lady Lillian, did you forget something?”

  Lillian had been so intent on the other parts of this plan that she’d failed to come up with a reason for her presence. Panic taking hold, she latched onto the excuse the duchess suggested. “Yes, yes I did. I believe I left my...handkerchief.” She offered a smile as she continued toward the spot where she’d last stood and pretended to search the area. “I’m terribly sorry to bother you for this.”

  “Not to worry. I’m certain it’s here somewhere.” She took another sip from the teacup she still held before setting it aside. Then she rose to help Lillian look, making Lillian feel even guiltier.

  “My grandmother embroidered it for me.” That much was true though Lillian hadn’t brought the handkerchief with her.

  “Then we shall make every effort to locate it.”

  Lillian peered under a couple of the tables and a chair before deciding she couldn’t stand the ruse any longer. “Perhaps I’m mistaken, and I left it in the carriage. Now that I think on it, I’m just not certain.”

  “Well, if one of the servants find it, I’ll know to whom it belongs.”

  “Thank you, your grace. And thank you again for tea. I had a lovely time.”

  Before the duchess could respond, the duke walked back into the drawing room. “Mother—” He stopped short at the sight of Lillian. “I didn’t realize any guests remained.”

  “I forgot something and returned for it.” Lillian had never felt more awkward in her life. How had she expected staying behind would help in any way? The duke stared at her as though she’d grown two heads. So much for hoping he’d find her attractive and that they’d have a special moment together.

  “Oh?” he asked, looking at her empty hands.

  Revenge was so much easier in theory. What could she do but bluster her way through this? She offered a smile. “I’m hoping I’m mistaken and left it in the carriage.” She curtsied to both, more than ready to take her leave, though she had no idea where she was going to go as the carriage couldn’t have returned yet. It didn’t matter if she had to stand on the street until the carriage came. She only wanted to escape the uncomfortable situation. “Thank you again.”

  “I’ll walk you to the door,” the duke offered.

  Though a denial came to her lips, she held it back. Wasn’t this what she’d hoped for? A few moments alone with him? The problem was that she didn’t know what to do with it. “How kind of you.”

  If she hadn’t seen the flask and the duchess pouring something into her tea, she wouldn’t have noticed the odd glance the duke gave his mother as she reached for her teacup. Did he know? Was that not the first time she’d done this? That only gained her—and the duke—more of Lillian’s sympathy.

  He might be a duke and his mother a duchess, but they had their share of problems much like everyone else.

  She closed her eyes for a brief moment. The last thing she wanted was to continue to feel sympathy for Burbridge. She appreciated that he faced challenges of his own, but those didn’t justify how he’d dallied with Helena. In fact, it made it worse. He, of all people, should know how it felt to be hurt.

  With a falsely bright smile, she looked up at the duke only to find a pensive expression furrowing his brow. If only he weren’t so handsome. And kind. And—

  She stopped herself before she listed more of his admirable traits. No doubt those were the same reasons Helena had grown to care for him so quickly during his brief stay in the country last autumn.

  “You have a lovely home.” Her gaze swung over the foyer with its white marble floor, impressive columns, and the grand staircase which divided into two flights after the first floor to sweep upwards.

  He blinked those long dark lashes as though to clear his thoughts. “Thank you. My mother and father spent a lot of time refurbishing it.”

  “I’ve heard wonderful things about him. Both you and the duchess must miss him dearly.”

  “We do.”

  She sighed, releasing her hope to have a few meaningful moments with him. Nothing was going according to plan. Her intention to make him care for her would have to wait for another opportunity. She simply didn’t have it in her to focus on revenge when her sympathy was entangled.

  His steps slowed to a halt in the middle of the foyer with the elegant crystal chandelier sparkling above them. “The adjustment to life without him has been especially difficult for my mother.” His quiet words held sincerity.

  “They were married for many years, weren’t they?”

  “Nearly thirty.”

  “Then it seems only fair to expect it to take more than one or two to become accustomed to the loss, does it not?”

  He gave a small smile. “I suppose I never thought of it quite like that. You make it sound logical.”

  “I don’t know if logic makes adjusting any easier, but perhaps managing your expectations will help.”

  He faced her, an odd look upon his face. “You say the most unusual things. My father would’ve said you have an old soul.”

  “I shall take that as a compliment with the hope that it implies I have some wisdom.” She frowned. “Though I don’t believe my mother would agree. Perhaps we can keep your remark between us?” She smiled at her jest.

  An awareness flared in his eyes, sparking one deep within her as well. His gaze swept over her face to linger on her lips. The spark fluttered to life despite her reluctance to acknowledge it. He was meant to fall for her, not the other way around.

  When he trailed a finger along her cheek, she realized once again she was completely, utterly out of her depth.

  “I like you, Lillian. Might I call you by your given name?”

  “Of course,” she agreed breathlessly.

  “Lillian.”

  It sounded foreign and exotic on his lips.

  He stepped closer, and her breath caught. The heat of his body wrapped around her like a delicate embrace. Her toes curled in her shoes as she waited to see what might happen next.

  His gaze rose to capture hers once more, questions in them for which she had no answers. “Will I see you at Lord and Lady Patterson’s soiree tomorrow evening?”

  She blinked, struggling to regain her senses. “Why do you suppose they chose to call it a soiree? That puts even more pressure on them to make it an especially pleasant evening, don’t you think?”

  He chuckled, causing her toes to curl even more. “It does, indeed. We shall see if they live up to the expectations they created. That is, if you’ll be there.”

  “I believe Oliver and Julia accepted the invitation.” She had the sudden urge to step back in an attempt to remove the way he made her feel. She didn’t want to feel anything when she was near him.

  But somehow, the choice no longer seemed to be hers. Fate had
intervened, carrying her along with its whims.

  He took her hand in his and escorted her to the door. “Then I shall look forward to weighing the merits of Lord and Lady Patterson’s success or lack thereof with you.” The way he emphasized the last two words made her stomach flutter in a much different way than when she’d crossed the foyer with her plan in mind.

  His interest was exactly what she’d wanted since she’d embarked on her mission. But not like this. Not with her own feelings entwined. That took the stakes far higher than she’d anticipated. She needed to decide what she was willing to risk in her quest for vengeance.

  The Duke of Burbridge was a far more complex man than she’d anticipated. She’d expected a rogue who flirted with every woman in sight. Burbridge was not that man. Instead, he cared for his mother, for those less fortunate, and he took his responsibilities seriously.

  Darn him.

  He squeezed her hand as he escorted her down the front steps to where her carriage now waited, though it hadn’t been twenty minutes. “Until the morrow, Lillian.” He waved back the footman to hand her up himself then waited to close the door until she was settled on the tufted seat.

  She couldn’t resist pulling aside the curtain to watch his form disappear as the carriage took her away. Unfortunately, the way he’d made her feel lingered despite his absence. Before tomorrow evening, she needed to reevaluate her plan and find a way to contain her reaction to the charming duke, else her goal would be in jeopardy.

  ~*~

  Elijah entered the drawing room that evening to join his mother before supper was served. A fire blazed cheerfully in the hearth to chase away the chill that hung in the air, despite the approach of summer. Once the sun set, if it made an appearance at all, the temperature dropped quickly.

  He’d spent the remainder of the afternoon reviewing the historical data his steward had provided and now felt as if he had a better idea of when the situation had gone awry. There were two particular shipping ventures that seemed ridiculously risky to begin with and had failed to perform as promised. No surprise there. But why had his father participated in either one, let alone both at the same time? Very odd behavior from a normally conservative man.