Redemption of the Duke (10 page)

“Like what? Nothing much has changed for you. You still insist upon working, when
I could—” He broke off.

“I assume you realized how that sounded and stopped yourself,” she said coolly.

“Yes, though I did not mean as my mistress.”

The word seemed to hover between them. She knew he thought her an innocent; and she
shivered to wonder how he might treat her if he knew all her secrets.

“I’m sorry if I’ve offended you,” he said in a low voice.

“You’re forgiven.”

“But I did hear you discussing your position and that of your friends at dinner. I
was glad you made Marian realize what a fool she can be.”

“I imagine she’s been privileged her whole life, and doesn’t know any different.”

“There’s a way to raise children where they understand their privilege and are humble,
grateful, and glad to help others. She is the daughter of a duke, and our fathers
had an understanding since her childhood that she would marry my brother Cecil, that
she would be the duchess someday. He died an hour before our father.”

“Her bitterness is quite sad.”

“Thankfully, she is a decent mother. She loves Frances and occasionally indulges the
girl as a parent should.”

“But perhaps not in a library after bedtime. Lady Frances was quite worried about
that.”

He nodded, but had no response.

“Might we walk the paths?”

“Of course.”

He put out his arm and she hesitated before saying, “I am in your employ, Your Grace,
not a woman you are entertaining. But I thank you for your thoughtfulness.”

He put his arm down awkwardly, and though she felt silly, somehow she just knew she
shouldn’t touch him, as if he were a match to her tinder. Side by side, they strolled
the winding paths. Her skirts brushed against plants, causing a rustling sound that
mingled with the water in the fountain.

“So, your brother had his bride chosen since birth,” Faith said. “Was it the same
for you?”

“No, not at all. My father was good to me, and one of the ways was that he let me
have my head in my youth. It was generally accepted that when I was ready for a wife,
he’d help me find one.”

“But instead you went into the army. I know younger sons often do that.”

“But he didn’t want me to.”

She glanced at him, but in profile, his expression was unreadable. “And yet you were
able to go against him?”

“It wasn’t easy, believe me. He didn’t want to believe in my reasons.”

“Your reasons? Oh, forgive me. You did not speak them quite deliberately.”

He nodded. “They are not so very secret. My brothers resented their stepmother—my
mother—and expressed their displeasure to me.”

“But you were just a boy!”

“I tell you this not to make you pity me, for I think defending myself hardened me,
even prepared me for the military. But by the time I was a young man of twenty-one,
my brothers were openly telling me they would be cutting me out of my father’s estate
after his death. I began investing my allowance, but I knew it would never be enough.
So I decided on the army, where a man could earn his living and his respectability.”

“Your father was against such a sensible plan?”

“In his own way, he loved me, and didn’t wish me harmed. Or he didn’t believe I could
make it,” he added ruefully. “I finally told him about my brothers’ threats, but he
didn’t believe me.”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “We all want our parents to believe in us.”

He eyed her, but didn’t question her, and she was relieved. She couldn’t believe he
was speaking of himself so personally—she wasn’t about to do the same!

“So I began to spend wildly, and had the merchants send him all the bills. He changed
his mind eventually. And soon I was a lieutenant in the Eighth Dragoon Guards.”

She didn’t want to talk about the army, didn’t want to hear about him side-by-side
with her brother, so she said, “And then you became the duke and returned home.”

“And in the few months since my return, my mother has made it her mission to throw
eligible young ladies before me. It’s hard to evaluate a woman’s merits when there
are so many of them.”

She smiled. “I imagine you fending them off, wading your way through them. But are
you being a dutiful son and duke by at least considering marriage and your heir?”

They stopped at the end of a path, where closed doors led outside, and a bench rested
nearby. She imagined the view of the external gardens would be beautiful from there.

“Yes,” he said with an overly heavy sigh, “I am willing to wade through women for
my mother.”

She found herself facing him before they turned back the way they’d come. The fountain
was a more distant sound from here, and the crunch of their feet on gravel had died
away.

His voice a low rumble, he said, “I’m quite capable of discerning worthy feminine
qualities all by myself.”

She tried to make light of it. “Then what kind of woman are you looking for? I’ll
make sure to put them in your way—although the Lady Emmelines of the world don’t have
a problem doing this themselves.”

He arched a brow. “She isn’t very subtle. I can only see her as a little girl, Sophia’s
friend.”

“She’s not a little girl anymore.”

“But I feel nothing when I look at her but a vague admiration for her prettiness,
and a sense that there’s little going on underneath.”

“But she would look so lovely on your arm. She obviously has a skilled lady’s maid.”
Faith touched her hair and winced.

To her surprise, the duke reached up to her hair. “Your style does make a person wonder
whether it will all topple over.”

She held her breath, shocked at the intimacy of him touching her hair, when she’d
known other intimacies.

“Your Grace—” she began, in too breathless a voice.

“Surely there’s a pin that needs adjusting. Ah, found one.”

He pulled, and to her shock, her hair tumbled down past her shoulders.

Chapter 9

A
dam watched the fall of Faith’s hair as if it were dark water, and her shoulders like
smooth stones to be tumbled over downstream.

He hadn’t been thinking when he’d touched her hair. Every time he’d seen her all day,
he’d wanted to fix it.

And now he’d revealed its glory, freed it from imprisonment to show him its sensual,
dark loveliness. The moon shining through the glass up above made her black hair shine,
framed the pale oval of her shocked face.

Her lips were parted, as if she meant to speak, but didn’t know what to say. He felt
the same way. Without knowing what he meant to do, he gently slid a long curl back
behind her ear, and let his finger trace along the soft curve of her cheek and jaw.

She inhaled swiftly, then took a step back. “Good evening, Your Grace,” she said,
then turned and began to march quickly away.

“Wait, Miss Cooper!” He’d made a mistake—he couldn’t let her go with this between
them.

She didn’t stop, so he caught up to her with swift strides. He wanted to take her
arm, to force her to hear him, but touching her would be a bad idea. So instead he
got in front of her and she was forced to stop, her expression closed and mutinous.

“I did not mean for this to happen,” he insisted. “I want you to know I had no intentions
of even touching you. But every time I see you, I wonder about your hair. Why do you
even wear it styled so?”

She let out her breath, crossing her arms over her chest and speaking warily. “I wanted
to do it myself, but didn’t have the heart to forbid the maid Mrs. Morton assigned
to me. She’s still learning, and I intend to be patient with her.”

“That is kind of you. But you should not suffer because of a maid’s ignorance in my
home.”

“Don’t make this more important than it is, sir. It will look bad for you—for both
of us. You’re taking this too personally.”

“It
is
personal,” he insisted between clenched teeth. “I cannot forget what I’ve done, what
I’ve caused.”

“If you feel so strongly, then remember that this sort of behavior is
hurting
me, risking damaging my reputation most of all.”

“I never intended that.”

“Then let us part reasonably, Your Grace. As you predicted, I enjoy your aunt, and
my duties are light and pleasant. Please bask in your being right and leave it at
that.”

She went through the doors to the library, and he stayed still for a moment, inwardly
cursing himself for the mistake of allowing his attraction to her to overwhelm his
good sense. It was much more difficult having her in his home than he’d imagined,
and he knew it was due to his own weakness.

And suddenly, the house and his entire life seemed to close in on him. Gone were the
times when every day was different, a matter of life and death, where only one’s skill
and intelligence kept one alive. His restlessness—and he had to face it, boredom—were
making him take chances.

And who would suffer? Not him, but the one woman who needed his protection above all
else.

Gritting his teeth, he moved back through the house. Though the old butler should
have been asleep, Seabrook was awake and in the entrance hall, as if awaiting any
orders from his master.

“Go to bed, Seabrook. Don’t wait up for me.”

“Shall I alert the stables, Your Grace?”

“No, I’ll catch a hackney.”

“But Your Grace, your greatcoat—”

Adam was already out the door. Yes, it was cold, but his coat was warm enough, and
he didn’t plan on being outside that long. He found a hack, and soon he was on his
way to a dark side of London, where he hadn’t been since before he’d joined the army.

He told himself he didn’t know why he’d waited so long, but he knew. He’d been focusing
on his title and his family, as well as the people who depended on him. It had been
a little deflating to learn that his estate was so well run, the Lords so entrenched
that Parliament paid little heed to him—that no one truly needed his intervention
or guidance.

Until Faith. And look how he’d bungled that.

The hack let him off on a street where several of the gas lamps were strategically
broken. But then he saw the half-closed door with the bright lamp overhead, a clear
signal that gaming was going on. Shenstone had told him their old haunt was still
active; Adam had insisted he wasn’t interested.

Yet here he was, fleeing his own house, looking for something to do that didn’t involve
seducing an innocent.

He went through the half door and knocked on the inner. Someone peered at him through
the eyehole.

“ ’Tis Rothford,” was all he said.

The door opened wide and a gracious “butler” guided him up the stairs into a room
far more richly decorated, with handsome carpets, red and gilt paper on the walls,
chandeliers over roulette and
rouge et noir
tables. Tobacco smoke drifted, the wait staff immediately came forward to offer him
libation, and suddenly, it was as if he were still twenty years old, with the world
fresh before him, trying to carve a place for himself against his brothers’ and Society’s
expectations.

Why did it seem so . . . sad?

“Rothford!”

It was Shenstone, and somewhere deep inside, Adam had known his old compatriot would
be there.

Shenstone clapped his back and grinned. “Couldn’t stay away, could you?”

Adam didn’t like to hear it said so honestly, but Shenstone was right, wasn’t he?

And why shouldn’t he be there? He had so much money he didn’t know what to do with
it, and obviously he had a need for female companionship, if he couldn’t keep his
hands off a woman under his protection.

And there were already women eyeing him, surely some of them the actresses he’d always
preferred, good at hiding their true selves and playing whatever part they chose—being
whoever he wanted them to be.

He tried to have a good time, and the gambling gave him a rush as he both won and
lost. He flirted with women who knew what to expect, he drank until his new scruples
cowered at the back of his skull.

But the thought of escorting one of those women to her home? He was uninterested,
and couldn’t even be surprised by it. Shenstone seemed to be studying him through
the night, but Adam had no apologies to offer.

He wasn’t the same man, who’d thought gambling and womanizing the height of excitement.
He’d seen so much more on the other side of the world. Shenstone would never understand
even if Adam tried to explain. And he didn’t want to hurt his old friend.

So in the early hours of the morning, he went home alone, feeling no better—in fact,
feeling worse, ill-at-ease and confused.

And somewhere in that house was the one woman who seemed to make those feelings die
down, who so fascinated him that all he could think about was her.

But he couldn’t have her.

A
fter spending the morning on Lady Duncan’s correspondence, Faith was thrilled to retreat
outside to the gardens surrounding Rothford Court. Lady Duncan sat in the shade, reading
a book, while Faith weeded, talked to the gardener, and simply enjoyed the cool but
lovely day. It was too early in the year for flowers outdoors, but oh, things were
beginning to bud.

She let relaxation wash over her, and tried to forget her encounter in another garden
with the Duke of Rothford. She had to trust in his self-control, because this position
was perfect for her. She felt needed by Lady Duncan.

Why he’d touched her hair—why he’d changed things between them, she didn’t want to
know.

Lady Sophia joined them, along with her niece. Frances remained skittish on nearing
Faith, as if waiting for Faith to reveal her night outing. Faith simply smiled at
her and handed her a little shovel.

“Would you like to help weed?”

Frances spotted the gardener, then gave Faith a strange look, but at last, she let
Faith show her the difference between weeds and spring greenery. Lady Sophia sat quietly
and talked to her aunt.

After about twenty minutes of following Faith’s example, Frances hesitantly said,
“What’s wrong with your gown?”

“Did I get dirt on it?” Faith asked with a laugh.

“No, it’s wrinkled and looks too big on you.”

Faith looked around dramatically and lowered her voice. “Please don’t tell, but my
maid is new to her position, and she’s still learning. I don’t want to hurt her feelings.”

“My mother wouldn’t stand for that.”

“But your mother is a great lady. I am not.”

“I asked Aunt Sophia, and she said we must not hurt the feelings of someone less fortunate
than ourselves, that not everyone can afford fine new gowns.”

Faith hid a smile. “That’s very true. Surely in London or the countryside, you’ve
seen many different kinds of women in many different gowns.”

Frances nodded seriously. “Are your feelings hurt?”

“Not at all!” Faith said, smiling, even as she touched the girl’s shoulder. “You are
only asking honest questions.”

“Is . . . is your maid inexperienced at styling hair, too?”

Faith laughed aloud, and finally, Frances gave her a timid smile in return.

After a while, she let the girl continue on without her, and went inside to fetch
some lemonade and iced cakes to refresh the ladies. Frances had some, then was soon
back on her knees in the dirt.

Faith winced and glanced at Lady Sophia. “Will her mother mind a little dirt?”

“She might, but I brought her to the gardens, so please do not worry about it. You
two were having an intense conversation.”

“Well . . . Lady Frances is worried about my unskilled maid.” She gestured to her
gown.

“And I understand her concern. Ellen has been with us for over three years. I never
would have thought—”

“Please, Lady Sophia, do not worry about it. I am handling it, even though it might
not look it.”

“If you will not let me speak to her or Mrs. Morton, then let me offer another suggestion
that will help. I want you to have some of my gowns.”

Faith inhaled and frowned. “Oh, no, Lady Sophia, I could not possibly—”

“They are my older gowns, if that makes you feel better. My mother would probably
resent me parting with newer ones.”

She shared a smile with Lady Duncan, but Faith could not feel light.

“Lady Sophia, I am employed in your home. It would not be seemly to—”

“I want to.” The young woman reached out and touched her hand. “And before you assume
something negative, I have not been embarrassed, nor has anyone in the household mentioned
it to me. I am simply so fortunate to have a wonderful brother who forces me to spend
far more on myself than I normally would.”

“Forces?” Faith said skeptically.

Lady Duncan chuckled. “As if I have to drag her to the dressmaker all the time.”

Faith glanced at Lady Duncan. “Are you certain this would be proper to accept such
a gift?”

“It would please me to see you in nicer clothes, Faith. You are a pretty young woman—you
don’t need to hide it.”

Yes, I do,
Faith thought, remembering the moonlit conservatory, and how her heart had pounded
in her rib cage when the duke had simply touched her cheek. There was something wrong
with her that she was so easily swayed by men.

Soon Frances’s governess came to take her away for her lessons. Faith expected the
other ladies to grow tired of the garden, but they didn’t move. Lady Sophia seemed
pensive, and Lady Duncan appeared to be waiting for whatever her niece needed to say.

When Lady Sophia said nothing, Lady Duncan at last lifted her monocle and looked through
it at the young woman. “You did not seem pleased to see Mr. Percy yesterday.”

Two splotches of red appeared on Lady Sophia’s cheeks, but she said nothing.

“He is a young man very conscious of his place in Society,” Lady Duncan continued
gently. “You are a young woman who doesn’t believe such things matter, because at
your station, you’ve never had to face that dilemma.”

“He is a gentleman, son of a gentleman,” Lady Sophia burst out heatedly.

Faith was rather shocked at the emotion hiding beneath the woman’s calm, friendly
exterior.

Lady Sophia gave her an apologetic glance. “Do forgive me, but . . . I find his attitude
and behavior so frustrating. I do not care that he is a vicar, but he certainly does.”

“And he’s right to care, my dear. He is not the sort of man your mother expects you
to marry.”

“I thought things would be different when Adam returned—he won’t force me to marry
against my wishes.”

Faith was too curious about what the duke might do.

“No one will force you into anything,” the elderly woman chided. “Even your mother.
Your brother is concerned for your happiness, not what property a potential groom
brings to the union. You are blessed in that regard, because most men feel otherwise.”

“I know!” Lady Sophia said, slamming her fist down on her thigh. “And Mr. Percy is
one of those! It is so infuriating!”