Desires of a Baron (8 page)

“
I can’t.”

“
Can’t?” The disbelief in his voice almost made her laugh. Almost.

“
Can’t,” she confirmed, casting a glance over to her unusually quiet son. With how desperate he’d been as of late for her to find another husband, she was rather surprised he wasn’t arguing with her. Then again, he was probably now terrified of men after what he’d witnessed tonight.

“
I didn’t mean it,” Lord Norcourt blustered.

Her eyes snapped back to him. “Pardon?”

“Last time. When I said I could get you a post. It wasn’t as my mistress.”

A new sense of understanding came over her, sobering her. “I know that. I didn’t think you had meant that.”

“But when Simon said—”

“
Shhh.” She put a finger to his lips. “I know that wasn’t what you’d meant.”

“
How?”

Her entire body stilled. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I just did.”

He encircled her wrist with his warm fingers. “Then come to London with me.”

She shouldn’t. Going with him would only lead to trouble. The least of which was what others might think if they spotted them together. No, the fear of that wasn’t nearly as large as the fear of the feelings he evoked in her. “I shouldn’t.”

“But you will?” he asked in a tone that broke down the last of her waning resolve.

She nodded. “Yes.”

Chapter Eleven

Relief ran through Giles’ being, taking with it all the hard tension that had held him captive for longer than he could remember. He turned to Seth. “Do you think you can help me load the carriage while your mama gets dressed?”

The boy didn’t move.

“They won’t be getting up for a while,” Giles explained softly. If ever. He’d never hurt anyone before, but when he’d happened upon that horrific scene he hadn’t known what else to do.

Seth gave a fleeting glance to the unconscious men lying on the parlor floor, then led Giles down the hall to a moonlit room that resembled a bedroom. Just without the bed. Strange. “Already packed?” Giles asked when his eyes collided with a large, scuffed trunk in the middle of the floor.

“Mama said we were leaving for York in the morning.”

“
You’ll go to London tonight.”

“
Yes, my lord,” Seth muttered as he flipped the latch on the side of the trunk. He sank to his knees and started emptying the contents without really looking at them.

Giles knelt down beside him. “Seth?”

“I should have done something,” the boy said fiercely before letting out a deep exhale and falling backwards on his bottom.

Giles moved to sit beside him and pulled his knees up to his chest, then rested his elbows on his raised knees. For a moment the two sat that way. Giles wished he had something of any value to say to Seth to make him feel better about everything. But what could he say? Perhaps he should offer to hire the boy a tutor to teach him to fight. He shook his head. No. Lucy might throttle him if he taught her boy to fight. Better not do that.

“Seth, if I’d have been you, I’d have done the same thing.”

“
You would have?”

Giles wasn’t sure, but he almost thought the boy sounded surprised. “Yes. When I was a boy at the orphanage and I’d get in trouble, the nuns were instructed to hold me that way. It doesn’t hurt so much, but if you try to move forward even a little, it’ll break your arm.”

“It will?”

Giles nodded and idly rubbed his arm. A sharp, humorous laugh escaped his lips. “It only took one time for my brain to remember that.”

“A nun broke your arm?”

Giles bristled, then made himself relax. Seth didn’t seem the sort to mock him intentionally. Likely he was just curious. “Yes,” he said quietly.

“Was she as big as Berta?”

“
Who’s Berta?”

“
She works in the butchery. She’s gargantuan. Her arms are wider than trees and I swear she’d kill a man if she sat on him.”

“
Unfortunately, no. Sister Mary was about an inch or two shorter than your mother and as thin as a reed.” He was thankful the room was dark enough that Seth couldn’t see him blush at his confession. “That position—it uses a boy’s strength against himself and can break just about anyone’s arm—no matter how big they are, or the person holding them that way.”

“
Oh.” Silence filled the air between them again. “So you don’t think my mama thinks I’m weak because I couldn’t help?”

“
No,” Giles said automatically. Then for a reason, he couldn’t explain, he added, “And neither do I.”

***

The tears that Lucy had fought so hard to keep at bay slipped from the sides of her eyes and coursed down her face at Lord Norcourt’s final whispered words to her son as they sat on the floor in what had been Seth’s bedroom. She’d known for a long time now that Seth wished for a father, but she hadn’t truly realized how much.

She peeked around the doorjamb just in time to see Lord Norcourt push to his feet and gesture for Seth to join him.

“Is this what you were looking for?” Lord Norcourt asked, picking up what appeared to be her lavender dress.

“
Yes, my lord,” Seth said.

“
Here.” Lord Norcourt extended the dress toward Seth. “You take this to her and I’ll carry out the trunk.”

Seth pushed Giles’ hand back then bent to toss their belongings back into the trunk. “No, I’ll carry the trunk.”

Lucy shook her head at Seth’s sudden deep tone and tiptoed down the hall so she’d be out of sight when Seth came through the door.

A moment later, Seth exited the room and walked in the opposite direction of where Lucy was standing.

Lucy peeked back inside the room where Lord Norcourt stood holding her gown in one hand and his other hand gripping his hair.

“
Thank you,” she said, walking into the room.

He jumped. “Sorry.” He held her gown out toward her.

She took the dress, her fingers brushing his. Once again, his skin was warm. Perhaps he was always warm, she reasoned as she pulled the gown toward her chest. She remembered when she’d first bought this gown. It was a cast off from Lord Kresson’s eldest daughter. Put on sale in a consignment shop no less than ten years ago in Bath. It had been her favorite; one of the only three gowns she hadn’t sold.

“
Do you need help?”

Lord Norcourt’s voice startled her. “N-no. I’ll just need a minute to change then I’ll be out.”

Without another word, he brushed past her, walked to the doorway and stopped.

“
Do you plan to just stand there while I change?” she asked his back.

“
Yes.”

A shiver ran over her, but then something she didn’t recognize came over her, too. Not wishing to examine it too closely, she quickly shed her ripped gown, praying all the memories attached to it would flee from her the moment it was off.

“Ready now?” he asked just as she finished putting on her gown.

“
Almost.”

“
Do you need help?”

“
No,” she said in a broken whisper.

He turned to face her. “What’s wrong?”

Lucy looked down at the discarded gown. “I don’t know what to do.”

“
Leave it.”

“
But I need it,” she argued. She’d never had many gowns anyway, but now that she only had so few, she couldn’t afford to easily abandon one just because it was in need of repairs. “I think I can fix it. I’ll just need to sew—”

“
No.” He took her cold, clammy hand in his large, warm one. “Leave it.”

The logical side of her wanted to argue with him. She genuinely
did
need that dratted gown. Unlike him, she couldn’t afford to buy another one just because this one now had a foul memory attached.

As if he could hear the war raging in her head, he said, “It’s not just you who has bad memories of that dress.”

And with that, her will dissolved.

They were nearing the carriage when she realized she was still holding his hand and felt a little bereft when he helped her into the carriage then let go of her to speak to the coachman.

She gazed over to where Seth sat on the opposite side of the carriage. He was looking at the moon through the window. She racked her brain for something to say to him, but couldn’t think of anything that might break the palpable tension that thickened the air between them.

A moment later Lord Norcourt climbed inside the carriage. Lucy watched him in disbelief as he closed the door, lit the sconce, then made himself comfortable beside her as the carriage started to roll down the lane. How was it that being in such close proximity to him, a lord and a peer of the realm, didn’t make her stomach lurch or her skin prickle with discomfort the way just the mention of the titled normally did?

She shook off the thought and looked to her son who seemed to fight his sleep harder with each passing second.

Lucy reached over to the sconce. “Do you mind if I turn this down?”

Lord Norcourt shrugged. “No. I lit it for you.”

“
For me?”

He nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“Well, I suppose I shall confess this to you now, I didn’t bring any books or embroidery, so I don’t think I’ll need it.”

Lord Norcourt’s eyes went wide. “I—I didn’t mean for…” He trailed off and let out a deep sigh. Lucy opened her mouth to explain that she was only jesting, when he spoke again. “It’s so you wouldn’t be afraid in the dark.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” she said without thinking. Not that she needed to. She could never explain it, but she knew she was safe with him. “I know you won’t hurt me.”

“
You do?”

“
Yes.”

***

Giles hadn’t experienced so many gut-wrenching emotions in the course of one evening since the time he was caught drawing in a book in the library by Sister Catherine. He’d been content while drawing, then pleased when he was done, followed by frightened and ashamed when caught, then horrified and confused when she insisted he strip off his clothes and be plunged into an ice bath to banish whatever evil spirit had come inside him and made him act so disrespectfully to a holy book. He shuddered at the memory and pushed away the snatches of memories of that night that hadn’t yet unfolded in his mind. That had been an awful night and while not every aspect of the past few hours had been pleasant for him, his unruly emotions had been a close match. But in a good way. The night of his final ice bath at the hands of Sister Catherine had made his heart pound the same as it was now, but now it left him with a warm, excited feeling, not one of hatred and shame. He much preferred the one Lucy had created. She trusted him. A smile pulled at his lips. With the exception of Sebastian’s wife, Isabelle, no lady had ever trusted him before. He almost snorted. To be honest, other than Isabelle, no other lady had ever given him the chance to earn her trust.

He shifted and tried to tamp down his excitement at his newfound knowledge. Sebastian had been right, seeking her out to talk to her and make things right had been a good idea. They just might be able to be friends. Which would be good for when she married Simon.

He frowned at the dull ache that built in his chest at the thought and tried to shift to get more comfortable again.

“
Sorry,” Lucy murmured.

His eyes shot to her direction. It was too dark to see her though. “Pardon?”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t mean to keep moving. I just can’t seem to fall asleep.”

“
You weren’t bothering me.” He hadn’t even noticed she’d been moving.

She sighed and moved in her seat in a way that brushed her hip along his thigh. He certainly felt
that
.

“
Sorry, I can’t seem to get comfortable.”

Instinctively, he reached for her and pulled her against his body with her right cheek resting on his left shoulder. She didn’t argue and wiggled a little against him, presumably to make herself more comfortable. Unfortunately, that did nothing for his comfort because whether she realized it or not, it drew his attention to where the soft parts of her chest were now touching his.

He closed his eyes and bit the inside of his lip. Pulling her against him might have been a mistake. He moved his right arm to settle across his lap so it’d better conceal his reaction to her nearness. Surely she couldn’t see his trousers in the dark, but he couldn’t be too careful.

Giles leaned his head against the squabs and tried to dredge up what notes made up the musical scale for C major. He
hated
music. Detested it. Well, listening wasn’t so bad, but playing it was awful. Almost as bad as being made to dance. He couldn’t dance in the carriage and moving his feet might bother Lucy. But he could think of notes and piano keys in his head. Hopefully it’d put a swift end to his current state like it had when this used to happen when he was younger and had gone to Paris for the first time. He’d never seen a woman without a habit on before then and couldn’t help but stare at them all. Fortunately, he’d learned to control himself by thinking of music and hadn’t embarrassed himself in years. He just hoped it’d work just as well this time.

In his mind, he went through all the scales he could remember: C, G, F, and A. There were more, but he couldn’t remember them and it might not matter since his pulse was still racing and there was still a tight, hot coil in his stomach.

Just then, something damp touched his shoulder. He blinked and brought his hand to Lucy’s face. “Lucy?”

She didn’t say anything, but her body trembled. Surely he hadn’t betrayed her trust because of his reaction to her. Panic built in his chest, but he couldn’t think of the right words to make it better. Although, if one were interested in the positive of the situation, his body had cooled completely the moment he felt her tears and everything had settled back to how it should be in the presence of a lady who wasn’t one’s wife.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice hitching on a small sob. “I just can’t get the images of those men out of my mind and when I close my eyes—they’re there.”

Wordlessly, he pulled her onto his lap and wrapped her in his arms. “Cry.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated with her face pressed into his chest. Less than a minute later her tears had soaked through the front of his shirt.