Redemption of the Duke (12 page)

He said that wearily, without passion. She almost couldn’t take offense—almost.

She looked at the open door, then stepped closer to him, saying softly, “Don’t talk
like that.”

He ground his teeth for a moment. “You are right, I know.”

She turned toward the door.

“Why was my sister spending an inordinate amount of time with Shenstone? He is not
for her.”

Faith hesitated, unwilling to break a confidence. “She knows. But I think she plans
to make her own decision.”

He sighed, then took another drink, though he didn’t appear drunk.

“I am glad you care for your sister,” she began slowly. “If you don’t mind my interference—”

He chuckled without true amusement.

She frowned at him. “You would do well to confide things in her. She’s hurt you will
not discuss your time in the army.”

“Would
you
discuss it, if you were me?”

“Maybe I would. It might help to confide in someone.”

“I already have.”

She stiffened. “If you mean me, it’s not the same thing.”

“And my aunt.”

“Then maybe Lady Sophia is feeling left out of your confidences, and you’re the only
brother she has left.”

He nodded. “I take your meaning. I will consider it. Good night.”

And when she realized she wanted to stay, to comfort him, that made her turn and flee.
Upstairs, she lay Lady Duncan’s needlework on the table as instructed, then hurried
into her own room and leaned back against the door.

To her surprise, Ellen rose from the chair before the hearth.

Faith jerked in response, then gave a sigh. “Oh, Ellen.” She’d never had her own lady’s
maid before, and the girl’s unexpected presence continued to startle her.

“You need help to get out of that gown.”

“I do. I appreciate your remembering, because I didn’t.”

When even her corset strings were loosened and at last she could take a deep breath,
she dismissed Ellen to her own bed with gratitude, then finished disrobing and donned
her nightdress. By the light of a single lamp, she silently took down her hair and
brushed it out, stroke after stroke, staring at herself in the mirror.

What kind of woman was she becoming? This man who’d forced her to take employment
in his home, who blamed himself for her brother’s death, who’d altered every path
of hers these last few years—she could not stop thinking about him. She thought of
him as a man—she wanted him to touch her, she wanted to feel his lips against her
mouth, against her breast.

With a groan, she buried her face in her trembling hands. She was wanton—she’d never
wanted to face that about herself. She’d thought herself a spinster forever when she’d
let Timothy Gilpin take her maidenhead. She was lying to herself even then.

When the duke had practically defended her against a minor insult, she’d watched enthralled
at the graceful movement of his body, the muscles that flexed beneath his shirtsleeves.
He’d been unable to control his temper, had perhaps reverted to the wildness of his
youth.

Maybe that wildness called to her, because in her own way, she’d been wild. She should
go now, simply leave and be done with him and with her own passion.

But she couldn’t. She was her mother’s only support.

And perhaps that was too convenient a reason, she thought bitterly, tiredly.

Chapter 11

A
dam didn’t take his breakfast in the breakfast parlor, but instead retreated to his
study, with the mullioned windows overlooking the garden. He wanted only coffee to
help clear his aching head. He’d drunk too much after everyone had gone to bed. His
memories were hazy—oh, he knew he’d fought Fillingham, like a fool. He’d had no problem
resisting the taunts until the man had insulted Faith.

Adam winced and rubbed a hand across his tired eyes. Who had noticed
that
mistake? Surely Faith. He remembered talking to her afterward, had seen her concern
and wished he hadn’t. It had taken everything in him not to go to her, to tell her
he’d never permit anyone to hurt her again.

But
that
would hurt her, he knew. He’d caused her enough pain. He’d told her she looked lovely;
maybe even his admiration was pain to her.

There was a faint knock at the door.

“Come in.”

Seabrook entered, holding something in his hand. “This was delivered to the servants’
entrance for you, Your Grace.”

Adam frowned. “The servants’ entrance? That’s unusual.”

Seabrook handed it over with a bow, then left the study. Adam frowned at the plain,
rough paper, sealed with a formless blob of wax. He broke it open, and the childish
scrawl made him blink in surprise.

Faith is lovely. Wherever she goes, you can’t stop looking at her. But I’m watching
you.

Surprised and confused, he read it again, and anger joined the mix of his emotions.
What the hell was this? Someone was spying on him, trying to intimidate him.

Someone had noticed his interest. Had they been looking for a return to his old ways?

He fisted his hand on the paper, wishing he could crush it into a ball. But what would
that do?

He rang the bell for Seabrook and then asked him to send for Cook, a large, husky
man who obviously enjoyed his food.

Cook bowed. “Your Grace.”

“Thank you for coming. Do you know who left this note?” he asked, holding it up.

“A scruffy young boy, sir. I thought it was strange and tried to question him, but
he ran off.”

“Thank you. If this happens again, please keep the boy with you and send for me. You
may go.”

Seabrook lingered after Cook left, a faint frown the only thing showing his concern.
“Your Grace, might I help in some way?”

“No, but I appreciate the offer.”

Seabrook left Adam alone with his thoughts. He wasn’t going to tell Faith, of course.
She’d resign her position, even if it meant living on the streets.

And what was there to tell? Someone who knew him wanted to rattle his chains. But
it was a good reminder to avoid being seen too much in public treating Faith as anything
other than his aunt’s companion. He thought he’d been doing a decent job of showing
his disinterest, but maybe not. Though the note had come after his mother’s dinner
party, he knew everyone there and couldn’t believe it was one of them. Could a more
distant acquaintance have seen him talk to Faith in Hyde Park? Or when he’d met up
with the ladies’ shopping trip on Regent Street? Or when he’d gotten her alone in
a corridor at the Randolphs’ dinner party to convince her to work for him? There were
too many instances of questionable behavior on his part.

But who the hell cared if he flirted with someone in his employ? Many peers did worse
than that and suffered no ill consequences. The women always suffered, of course,
and he would not let such notoriety befall Faith. He would have to be much more careful
the next time they were in public together.

T
hat same morning, Faith was in the entrance hall, adjusting her shawl and tying her
bonnet ribbons, when Lady Sophia came down the broad staircase.

“Miss Cooper, are you going somewhere?”

“I’m running several errands for your aunt. Could I do something for you?”

“No, no, but that’s sweet of you to offer.” She reached the marble floor and paused.
“Would you mind if I accompany you?”

Faith blinked at her, then smiled. “Of course not. I would enjoy the company. But
honestly, if you need me to pick up something for you, it’s not inconvenient.”

“And you’re sweet to offer. Let me fetch my shawl and I’ll be right back.” Halfway
up the stairs, she turned around. “Did you send for the carriage?”

“No, I was going to walk or hire a hackney.”

“Nonsense, you can use a carriage anytime you’d like.” To the young footman who stood
at attention, she said, “Hales, please have Tallis bring a carriage around.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Not a half hour later, they were riding in the carriage, when Lady Sophia put her
arm through Faith’s.

“We don’t need to be so formal, do we? Please call me Sophia, and I will call you
Faith.”

Faith smiled. “I’d like that.”

Sophia was so easy to be with, so friendly and intelligent. But she wasn’t sure one
could be friends with a relation of one’s employer—the duke’s sister. But obviously
Sophia was trying, and Faith appreciated that.

Sophia’s smile faded into an expression of earnestness. “I actually had a reason to
accompany you. I wanted to speak in private. I—I came back to the drawing room last
night and overheard you and my brother discussing me.”

Faith stiffened. When had she come in on their damning conversation? Hopefully not
too early, when he’d been saying her looks were “striking.” But Sophia did not seem
upset or wary.

“I—I was trying to help,” Faith said at last. “I know you want him to freely discuss
his troubles with you. It’s not my place, I know, but . . . it came up.”

“Yes, you deflected him away from my plans with Lord Shenstone. I appreciate that.
You encouraged him to talk to me. But . . . it’s very obvious you and he have had
discussions about the war, and I was confused.”

Faith didn’t know what to say, how to defend herself. Did Sophia think Faith was . . .
pursuing the duke? “My lady—”

“Wait, let me finish. And it’s Sophia, remember?” she said, a faint smile returning.

Faith tried to relax.

“It struck me as odd, because he has not known you long. But then I thought about
the war, and suddenly your name struck a chord. I went back to his letters, and there
I found mention of a Sergeant Cooper. Your brother?”

Faith nodded warily.

“So our brothers served together,” Sophia said with satisfaction, as if a riddle had
finally been solved. “You told us that your brother died in the war. Did you . . .
come to find Adam?”

“No! Sophia, no. My brother was not much for letters, and I didn’t even know he’d
served with the duke. His Grace . . . found me.”

Sophia looked startled.

“He just wanted to help,” Faith hurried to say. “He felt badly about Mathias’s death.
I told him I didn’t need his help, but he persuaded your aunt to become involved,
and I accepted her offer of a position without realizing . . .” She let that sentence
fade away. Was she trying to prove her own good intentions by casting doubt on the
duke’s?

Sophia shook her head. “Oh, he can be so frustrating, always thinking he knows best.
I don’t remember it so much when he was younger, before he left England. Let me tell
you, he’s
not
going to manipulate me into the marriage he thinks is correct.”

“Has he tried?”

“Well . . . no, but he’s been vocal when he sees me with someone of whom he disapproves.”

“You mean Mr. Percy.”

Sophia narrowed her eyes. “There’s been nothing for him to truly disapprove of, since
Mr. Percy always keeps far too respectable a distance between us.” She said the latter
with some bitterness. “But I don’t mean to bring all this up again, except to say
that Lord Shenstone has agreed to pretend to court me whenever Mr. Percy is near.”

Faith frowned. “You must know his lordship better than I do, to trust him so.”

“Well, he’s not exactly every maiden’s dream husband, but he’s titled, and I do not
think he’d take advantage of his friend’s sister’s dilemma. Did I say that right?”
And she laughed.

Faith smiled in return, relieved that Sophia was not angry with the subterfuge of
how she’d won her position. Together, they alighted from the carriage at a stationer’s,
then proceeded to the bookstore and the dressmaker’s, where Lady Duncan had an altered
gown to be retrieved.

And though Sophia chatted happily, waving at friends, introducing Faith everywhere
without revealing her position in the household, Faith should have been pleased and
content. But . . . she kept feeling as if she needed to look over her shoulder. This
was the second time she’d felt watched—or was it followed? But she could never see
anyone suspicious, just other shoppers enjoying the day.

Maybe people they’d left behind were simply curious about who she was, and how she
knew Sophia, and were studying her as she left. Surely that was it, she told herself,
and tried to relax as they completed their errands.

A
dam was determined not to let a cowardly message bother him. He was going to be very
careful to treat Faith as the companion of his aunt that she was. He would not think
of touching her smooth skin again; he would not remember staring into her silver-gray
eyes as if they contained the secrets of the world; he would not imagine her parted
lips on his, the taste of her in his mouth . . .

God, he had to stop thinking about her.

But when they attended another dinner party the next night, he found himself on edge,
his gaze raking the drawing room over and over again, looking for strangers, or someone
who couldn’t meet his eyes. Faith sat properly with Aunt Theodosia, and he tried not
to see her gown, which bared her shoulders and the tops of her breasts. She wisely
never looked at him. His sister, on the other hand, kept giving him curious glances.

He’d known the guests all his life, but besides Shenstone, none had been close friends
in his youth. Who knew what kind of people they were, voyeurs at heart, or those who
just enjoyed a good scandal?

And then he saw Lady Emmeline heading toward him with purpose.

He turned about and quickly asked his sister to dance. It was a waltz, and she flowed
smoothly about the floor as he dodged other couples.

“I had this dance saved for Lord Shenstone,” Sophia said, although she didn’t look
all that angry.

“He won’t mind waiting.”

In fact he could see Shenstone frowning at them. He whirled his sister past and let
her skirts sweep his friend’s feet, and then grinned.

“That was cruel,” Sophia said.

But he could tell by her quivering lips that she was amused.

“So tell me about Lady Emmeline.”

“You are interested?” she asked, her gaze flying up to his, her countenance lit with
happiness.

“No. I remember her too well as a child, so that’s how she’s stayed in my memory.”

“Oh.” Her shoulders sagged a bit.

“You wanted me to court her?”

“Well, not if
you
don’t want to. But of course, she has hope that you might feel some affection for
her.”

“I can tell,” he said dryly. “I will do my best not to lead her on, but if she doesn’t
start taking my hints, I might have to be more direct.”

She sighed. “Would you like me to—”

“No, I can handle it. I just needed confirmation that I wasn’t seeing what wasn’t
there.”

“You weren’t.”

After another circle of the floor, he asked, “So is there something I should know
about you and Shenstone?”

She didn’t quite meet his eyes. “No, we’re simply friends. He knows I like to dance,
so he asks me.”

“He is not exactly your innocent country gentleman.”

“I know that,” she said, her smile impish. “After all, he’s your friend, and I grew
up hearing stories I wasn’t supposed to hear.”

He gave her an exaggerated wince. “I’ve changed—matured, even.”

“I can tell.”

The final chord had barely run through the drawing room when Shenstone appeared at
their side.

“Lady Sophia, shall we dance?”

She gave a brilliant smile and a curtsy as he put her hand into Shenstone’s.

“Thank you, my lord, I would enjoy that.”

“And then come talk to me, Shenstone,” Adam said.

“Do you want to dance with me, too?” Shenstone asked with a smirk.

Adam shook his head and walked away. Before he’d taken two steps, Emmeline appeared
in front of him.

“Your Grace, is that Sophia and Lord Shenstone?” she asked, as if she couldn’t see.

“It is.”

“How lucky that they are doing the quadrille together. It is one of my favorite dances.”

Adam hid a sigh and bowed his head. “Will you do me the honor?”

Her laugh was light and musical. “Oh, the honor would be mine, Your Grace.”

Emmeline was a lovely dance partner, very graceful, but she wasn’t whom he wanted
to dance with. He looked for Faith, and found her still sitting with the old ladies,
the chaperones, the companions, and it made him want to grind his teeth.