Daring the Duke (5 page)

Audrey moved toward the window. There was no use dawdling. Only striplings made the mistake of lingering at a scene. She was halfway to freedom when she stopped.

The air had changed. Her scalp prickled, and she whirled around to face the other person in the room. So silent. How had she missed him? Why had he waited to show himself? And why hadn’t he sounded the alarm?

She lashed out with her right foot, but her blow was deflected. A shaft of moonlight settled in front of her, cut in twain by her body. She was silhouetted in the light, easy to see. Cursing inwardly, she dove and somersaulted away from the desk. She grabbed one of the knives from her left sleeve and hurled it at the figure.

The knife was somehow blocked, and the steel clattered harmlessly across the floor. The sound was deafening in the otherwise silent house. Audrey could hear the walls waking from their heavy sleep. The inhabitants would be next.

She needed to incapacitate her assailant as silently as possible and get the hell out of the house. She could discern a faint outline, and though the man was tall and broad-shouldered, he wasn’t a beefy thug. She might be able to sustain his weight before he hit the floor. She grabbed a bust on the edge of a side table and launched herself at the figure.

Her aim was perfect, but at the last instant the man stepped to the side and pulled her tightly against him. The bust dropped soundlessly on a padded settee. The man’s ironclad grip sent alarm bells ringing in her head. He was so quick, so steady. She jerked uselessly for a few seconds but was unable to free herself. He was too strong.

If she was caught, all was lost. She couldn’t be caught, wouldn’t be caught. A dark cell and malicious smiles swirled in her mind. Panic gave her strength.

She was off-balance and made a final effort to swipe his legs. It worked.

The poorly executed manoeuvre sent the man to the floor, but he never loosened his grip, and she landed on top of him.

The thud echoed through the house. The stirrings began. Audrey tried to break free, but the man’s grip was firm; he wouldn’t release her.

A door opened downstairs. Footsteps sounded in the foyer.

Audrey squirmed and tried to kick her captor. His legs coiled around hers, locking her in place. No mere toady, but a seasoned professional. Her panic neared hysteria. She was headed straight to jail, or worse, straight to the hangman’s noose.

Footsteps sounded on the bottom of the stairs.

She tried to free one of the knives at her waist. His hold tightened.

Confusion joined the panicked emotions flitting through her brain. The main wasn’t trying to hurt her; he was restraining her. Toying with her. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he was testing her.

She pulled her head back to slam into his nose, but he anticipated the move and rolled them over, pinning her beneath him. The action rolled them in the patch of moonlight streaming through the window. Audrey got a first look at her captor and froze.

Eyes that would be bright green in the daytime speared her with their darkness. She caught a brief whiff of pine as the footsteps continued their ascent.

She would have known his identity earlier had her mind not gone into a panic like a green girl on her first job. Trapped. Everything she had worked for, gone. Her sister would be lost, and there was no redemption for Audrey.

Footsteps crested the top step, and she couldn’t stop a panicked breath.

His expression changed, although her panicked mind and the darkness wouldn’t allow her to read his face. The footsteps paused at the door, and the telltale sound of the knob turning caused her breath to lodge. The door rattled as the person on the other side tried to open it.

Someone had locked the door. Stephen? The person on the other side of the door retreated. Back down the steps, back across the foyer. Back to find the key.

Stephen continued to stare at her, his warm body pressed into hers. One thigh lodged between her legs.

“What—” She licked her suddenly dry lips. “What are you going to do?”

He didn’t move, keeping her trapped beneath him, his lips mere inches from hers. His breath caressed her cheek. “I suppose I should take you to the magistrate.”

She refused to let the tears fall. “I suppose so.”

He swore and rolled off her. Reaching for the tinderbox on the desk, he lit a lamp. Audrey pushed herself into a sitting position and glanced at the open window. She might be able to make it.

“You won’t make it,” he said as he leaned against the desk and crossed his ankles.

She crossed her legs, mimicking his relaxed posture. A slight smile appeared before he shook his head, and his face was unreadable once more.

“Who ordered you to steal the documents?”

“No one.”

“It’s not too late to make that visit to the magistrate.”

“No, it’s not.”

He studied her and moved closer. “Aren’t you afraid of being sent to prison?”

“I’m terrified of being sent to prison,” she said quietly.

He arched a brow and stalked a circle around her. “You look quite calm at the possibility.”

She was quaking inside, but years of surviving on the streets had been an effective teacher for masking emotions and expressions. Sometimes it made the difference between life and death. Such was the case at the moment.

“Would you rather have tears, Your Grace?”

“No, but knowing you are sincere might not make me regret my choice to let you go.”

Her heart thumped in her chest. “You are letting me go.”

“No.”

Audrey kept control of her tears and pretended to examine her hands. She had to stop thinking there was hope.

“Then what is your intention?”

“We’ll discuss that later. I will call for you tomorrow afternoon for a drive in the park.”

Her head snapped up. “What?”

“A drive, in the park. Don’t try to run, don’t try to hide. I will find you.”

His tone turned hard.

Surely he had gone mad? “You trust me to wait for you in my house?”

He looked irritated, but whether it was with her or with himself, she didn’t know. “Yes. I don’t think you can run, or you would have done so already.”

Cold seeped into her bones. She had never been this far behind an adversary in plotting. Then again, her fate have never felt so much of her hands before.

She stared at him mutely. Footsteps echoed below once more.

Stephen crossed his arms. “You have thirty seconds to decide.”

The footsteps ascended the stairs again. This time there would be no stopping the person from entering the room.

“I will meet you for a drive in the park tomorrow,” she said hurriedly.

He held her gaze, and her breath lodged in her chest. The footsteps hit the top step.

“Good. See you then.”

Audrey didn’t wait for more. She leaped to her feet, raced across the floor, and dove through the open window. She landed roughly in the bushes and barely registered the raised voices from above before she sprinted down the street and allowed her tears to fall.

“Mr Maddox. How nice to see you.”

Stephen Chalmers entered the small town house promptly, not a minute later than the time his morning note had indicated. His smooth voice wound up the stairs and through Audrey’s insides.

She waited at the top of the landing, out of sight of Chalmers, but with a good view of Maddox. Maddox shuffled his feet and exchanged pleasantries. Best not to leave him alone with Chalmers for too long. At best he would make a fool of himself, at worst his loose tongue would get them a one-way trip to the hangman.

Audrey grimaced and ran back to her room. Having to share information with that poor excuse for a man went against every natural instinct and acquired skill she possessed.

She grabbed the ridiculous-looking reticule sitting on the dresser. The woman Travers had hired to clothe her had proclaimed the gaudy accessory the height of fashion. The height of stupidity, more like.

Audrey hurried back to the landing, not wanting to consider why she had taken so long with her toilette, and was now carrying the absurd bag.

Dressing well for the execution or the executioner?

“Audrey isn’t feeling all that well today. I’m not sure she’s up for receiving visitors much less a drive in the park.” Her stepfather was doing his own thinking again, which was not a good sign. A nasty crimson brightened his already ruddy cheeks.

“Nonsense,” she announce brightly, descending the stairs. “It’s a lovely warm day, and fresh air will do me wonders.” She held out her hand and curtsied. “Your Grace.”

Stephen flashed a wicked smile and took her hand to his lips. “It would be any woman’s fondest wish to look as beautiful as you do now. Like a perfect spring bloom.”

The only thing blooming was the warmth spreading through her body.

Unwanted heat stole into her cheeks. So he had dropped the hard cold demeanour of the previous night and was back to playing the charmer?

She could deal with that. “Shall we be off?”

Chalmers grinned, and Maddox looked overset. What else had the two men been talking about? At the moment she needed to hurry Chalmers out before Maddox did anything stupid.

She again cursed Travers for saddling her with Maddox. He had claimed it was to maintain appearances. Appearances? She could have played her part without her incompetent stepfather in the mix. No, Travers had done it to keep Maddox in line. And also because Travers knew she loathed Maddox almost more than she loathed him.

Stephen said a cheerful farewell, and they left Maddox, ruddy and sour-looking, on the front-step. Audrey passed her reticule from one hand to the other, trying not to think about where the looming carriage would take her. She trusted this incarnation of Stephen Chalmers less than the determined law enforcer she had met the previous night.

Stephen helped her into the curricle and directed the horses into the lane.

“I thought we’d ride through the park and talk. Is that acceptable to you?”

“Yes.” Anywhere but prison was acceptable. She examined the passing scenery and tried to edge closer to the side of the carriage seat. The seat was not nearly enough to escape contact. She could feel the heat of his body as if it were a magnet.

He chatted about innocuous events and shared amusing stories that had her smiling unwillingly. She had no choice but to accompany him; if she encourage him, perhaps he would let his intentions slip.

The park was nearly empty. A few artists sketched, and several nannies pushed strollers. Stephen threw the reins to his tiger and assisted Audrey from the carriage. The servant took the ribbons, and the vehicle rumbled down the street.

“I thought we might walk through the garden, then to the lake.”

Knowing that Stephen was obsessed with plants and botany, she replied,

“Well if you had skipped the gardens and gone straight to the lake, I might have become suspicious. As it is, now I am left thinking that the only reason you
invited
me along, was to have an excuse to explore the gardens.”

He smiled. “You are a good excuse. The best I’ve had in a long time.”

“You haven’t had me yet, Your Grace.”

“In one respect I
had
you last night, Miss Kendrick.” He leaned toward her, and his breath tickled her ear. “In another respect I look forward to the pleasure of having you.”

“Don’t bet on it.”

“There are few bets I lose.”

She muttered under her breath, unwilling to be goaded into a further response.

They entered the gardens and were met with a profusion of colourful flowers and intriguing fragrances. The plants were artfully arranged and presented, care being given to the placement of each colour and variety.

Determined to play her part, Audrey pointed to one of the leafy plants near the entrance. “What is that plant called, Your Grace?”

“That is an Adder’s Tongue.”

“You are fond of those.”

Stephen smiled. “Been poking through my town house recently, Audrey?

That explains the disappearance of my favourite shirt and trousers.”

Audrey’s face reddened. She had almost stolen a pair of trousers from his London house last year. It would serve him right for her to mention why.

“I don’t know I’d do with your clothes, but I’d have Grimmond count your silver if I were you.”

A look of surprise crossed his features. “I suppose it shouldn’t shock me that you know my butler’s name. But if you knew him at all, you would know he counts the pieces each week. The man has an unnatural obsession with my property and propriety.”

“He does seem rather rigid, but isn’t that the way with all butlers?”

“Grimmond aspires to rigidity. Luckily, he has me to add a little colour.

Or disorder and mayhem as he calls it.”

A beautiful pink bush decorated one side of the path, and Audrey rubbed the petals between her fingers, letting the blossom fall from the tips.

Stephen watched her touch the petals and shifted.

“That is a rhododendron.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Yes. But then everything in this garden is.”

He was watching her. Audrey’s breath caught in short breaths under that look. After their encounter last year he had been a constant presence in her thoughts. To have those bright green eyes suddenly focused on her was unnerving. That he couldn’t remember their encounter was little consolation to her overly active imagination. He turned his head, releasing her from his hypnotic stare.