What a Devilish Duke Desires (5 page)

“Barlow, who is that woman?”

“I’m unsure, Your Grace,” Barlow said. “A new maid, I believe.”

Harry watched as she strode away.

“Do you wish me to make inquiries about her?” Barlow said. “I can speak to the housekeeper.”

Distracted by the sway of her hips, he didn’t reply immediately.

“Your Grace?” Barlow repeated. “I would be happy to inquire.”

“No,” Harry said. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Is there anything else, Your Grace?” Barlow said.

“No, thank you. That will be all.”

By now, she’d disappeared from his sight. Something about her did not add up. She’d spoken in a cultured accent that misty night, but he remembered her worn glove. That reminded him of the words she’d spoken.

Sir, I assure you, I would not set foot on these mean streets if I had any other choice.

He’d thought to rescue a damsel in distress, but she’d lectured him about parading along the dark streets advertising his expensive clothing and jingling purse. At the time, he’d been rather bemused by her cautionary advice.

Clearly she’d fallen on hard times, but perhaps he was mistaken. It had been dark and from a distance he couldn’t swear it was the same woman.

Bandit strained on his leash and barked at a passing groom. Harry dismissed the memory of the redhead and strode off with his impatient dog.

Lucy strolled along Piccadilly, where she stopped to buy an orange from a costermonger and put it in her pocket. Then she headed to Green Park, where she found a bench. A red squirrel darted up one of the oaks, scattering a flock of birds. There weren’t many peaceful places in London where one could enjoy a breeze and relative solitude. On sunny days like this, she missed her former home in Wiltshire.

Her earliest memories involved helping her mother in the garden and chopping the vegetables for the savory stew her mama had made from mutton or hare. She missed helping her mother in the warm kitchen most of all. Lucy wanted to hold on to the happy memories of her mother, but the ache in her chest never quite went away.

Sometimes her mama had taken her to the village to look at the pretty bonnets, ribbons, and buttons at Mrs. White’s shop. Once on her birthday, her mother had taken her there and bought her a pretty straw bonnet with a green ribbon. Mrs. White had been kind to her mother. Others in the village had treated her mother with suspicion, because her refined accent marked her as different—not one of the local villagers.

A barking dog interrupted her thoughts.

She shaded her hand over her bonnet brim and saw an exceptionally tall man running after a dog.

The puppy bounded over to her, sat, and panted. The attached leash meant he’d escaped. Lucy smiled. “What a cute puppy, you are.”

As the man neared, she thought she might swallow her tongue. It was Sir Galahad. Her heart beat faster as she recalled threatening him with the knife. The fine hairs on her neck stiffened. He was the last person she wanted to encounter, but it was too late to escape unnoticed now.

He was breathing fast as he halted and put his hands on his thighs. “I beg your pardon, miss…” His words died. Then he arched his brows. He’d obviously recognized her.

For a moment, she was struck dumb by his brilliant blue eyes. That night, she’d not been able to see him clearly, but his eyes were rather deep set, and his brows were thick. While his nose was a trifle wide, it fit him. She’d seen plenty of foppish dandies strolling along Bond Street. He was not one of them. There was no padding in the shoulders of his green wool coat. In the light of day, she couldn’t miss his big, muscular frame.

He doffed his hat and bowed, revealing a shock of dark hair. Then he regarded her with a slow smile. “So we meet again.”

Her face grew as hot as a live coal. “I do beg your pardon.”

His brows furrowed. “You mean for threatening me with a knife?”

Oh, this was mortifying. She’d been so sure she would never see him again. “The blade was for protection.”

“So you said that night we met.” His expression turned fierce. “A bit of advice. One strong chop on your arm from a tall man, and your blade would be on the ground, making you defenseless. If you mean to carry a knife, crouch and swipe. Like this.”

He demonstrated the stance for her. “Don’t try to stab your assailant; you could get hurt. Your goal is to put enough distance between you and the attacker, and at the first opportunity run for your life.”

She released her pent-up breath. “Yes, that makes a great deal of sense. Thank you for the advice.”

He opened his mouth as if meaning to speak again, but the puppy wagged his tail and pawed her skirt.

“Bandit, no,” he said in a sharp command.

The puppy ran to him. Sir Galahad squatted. “Bandit, you bad dog.”

When the puppy licked his face, he grimaced. “Ugh, dog breath.”

Lucy laughed. She couldn’t help liking him and his funny puppy.

He grasped the dog’s leash, rose, and regarded her with an amused expression. “I did try to teach him manners, but clearly he is a heathen.” As if to prove his master correct, Bandit promptly urinated on a tree.

Sir Galahad shrugged. “There is your proof. I’ve had many dogs over the years, and all of them loved to water trees and roll in things best not mentioned in a lady’s presence.”

She ought to remain aloof, but he was rather charming. “What breed is he?”

“A collie. I had one for many years, but he died a few months ago.”

Was she imagining a hint of melancholy in his expression?

“I missed having a companion, so I got another and now I regret it.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Thus far, he has chewed a pair of leather slippers, wet the carpet, which of course I had to replace, and put more than a few tooth marks on the sofa legs.”

“Oh dear,” she said, laughing.

He sat next to her on the bench without so much as a by-your-leave. “I hope you don’t mind if I join you.” His blue eyes were full of mischief. “Did I forget to ask?”

“You are brazen, sir.” But she couldn’t help smiling.

He sniffed. “I smell an orange.”

“Oh, it’s in my apron pocket,” she said, taking it out.

“Do you plan to eat it?”

For a moment she was mesmerized by his startlingly blue eyes, and something else. It was a familiar soap scent, but she couldn’t place it. The moment suspended, and then her face heated. She’d been so taken with him she’d forgotten to answer. “Would you like to share with me?”

He regarded her from the corner of his eye. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Oh dear. He was charm personified.

When he stripped off his gloves, she found herself examining his big hands. She should
not
be thinking about his hands.

He reached inside his coat and pulled out a penknife. Then he cut the bottom off and continued peeling with the knife in ever-widening circles. Afterward, he handed her the orange and rolled the peel tightly. “Hold out your palm.”

She hesitated. “What are you about?”

“You’ll see. Your palm, please.”

Her heart beat a little faster as he gently set the peel in her hand. The sensitive skin of her palm tingled a little at the slight brush of his fingers. When she looked at him, his stunned expression mirrored her own reaction. She averted her eyes, but something had happened between them. She couldn’t name it and had never experienced it before. All she knew was that there was tension surrounding them.

Still a bit off balance, she looked at the peel in wonder. “You made a rose of it.” Her words came out with a breathy quality. She was aware of something invisible between them—something she couldn’t quite describe, but she was highly aware of how near he was to her.

When she met his gaze again, his lips parted just a little. The breeze stirred her skirts, and for some reason, she felt a little breathless. “Very clever of you.” She set the rose in her apron and offered the orange to him. He plucked a slice and ate it. She took a slice as well. The tangy scent of orange enveloped them.

“Your fingers will be sticky,” he said, handing her his handkerchief.

“Thank you.” She marked the initials embroidered on it: HJN. Curiosity gripped her. There was something about him that was impossible to resist. She wanted to know more about him, but he was a stranger. She knew she shouldn’t be here with him.

He looked directly into her eyes, as if he meant to pull her under his spell. “You positively light up when you smile.”

“I imagine many women fall quickly for your charm, but let me assure you I am no easy conquest.”

“Neither am I.”

He startled a laugh out of her. Of course she recognized he was adept at disarming others with his wit and amiable manners. He was the sort of man who could easily beguile a woman. He was also a stranger, and she shouldn’t trust him.

Lucy rose. “You will excuse me. I must go now.”

He stood as well. “Don’t leave. Bandit is a fine dog, but his conversation is rather limited.” She was tempted to stay, but she’d already taken a risk with a man she knew nothing about.

“Do you have some objection to me?” he asked.

“I can neither object nor approve. I don’t know you.”

He looked around him. “It appears there is no one to perform the introductions. Shall we exchange the honors with one another?”

She mustn’t let him turn her head, but of course he’d already managed it—all too easily. “I can’t,” she said.

“Come now, I don’t bite and neither does Bandit.”

Charm must flow in his veins.

Lucy realized it would be all too easy to fall under his charismatic spell, but she mustn’t let that happen. She had to focus on earning wages and put aside what she could for a rainy day. There was no room for a beau in her life, especially one she knew nothing about.

“We could arrange to meet here another day,” he said.

She wondered how many women he’d managed to captivate. “Sir, I’m not in the habit of forming acquaintances with strangers.”

“Well, we’re here. You can tell me a bit about yourself.”

“I don’t think that is wise.”

“Why? You can’t think I mean you harm after I rescued you—or rather your basket.” His grin made him look a bit boyish, but his height and wide shoulders suggested he was thirty or perhaps a bit older.

“Any acquaintance between us is impossible,” she said.

“There’s no ring on your finger. You’re not married, so there’s no impediment.”

“You are impertinent, sir,” she said, her voice rising.

His smile could light up all of Vauxhall. “I don’t mean to be. I just avoid flirting with other men’s wives. Saves the trouble of pistols at dawn. I’m fond of my sleep, you see.”

“Are you always so glib?”

“You must answer my question first.”

She lifted her chin. “On the contrary, Sir Galahad. I don’t have to answer you at all.”

He closed the distance between them. He was so much taller that she imagined the top of her head barely reached his chin. When she met his gaze, she was momentarily spellbound by his blue eyes. Then, remembering herself, she stepped back.

“I was only jesting,” he said, his voice rumbling.

“You are outrageous,” she said, standing her ground.

“You’re not the first to say so.” His smile was hard to resist, but resist him she must.

“Truly, there is nothing to prevent us from becoming acquainted,” he said.

“I’m certain we do not inhabit the same social sphere.”

“Come now. Your manner of speaking tells me you are a gentleman’s daughter.”

She had no intention of enlightening him. “There are certain realities, sir. I must work, whereas you appear to lead a carefree life.”

His smile faded. “My life is far from carefree. I have numerous responsibilities to my family and all those under my employ.”

“So you are a successful man of business?”

“I have a number of ventures.”

“Such as?”

“I don’t wish to bore you. Shall we walk?”

She curtsied. “Good day, sir.”

“Don’t leave. Bandit will be disappointed.”

The collie tilted his head upon hearing his name.

Temptation beckoned. Lucy hesitated. She’d liked matching wits with him, but no respectable lady met a gentleman alone. In this case, she’d been bantering with a stranger. While Sir Galahad did not seem dangerous in the least, she thought of her friends’ warnings. It wasn’t wise to take chances. If anything were to happen to her, Grandmama would suffer. But she had no intention of allowing the handsome stranger into her life. “Excuse me. I really must leave.”

He wanted to know who she was and why she’d chosen to work as a maid when she was clearly educated. Then he remembered her worn glove and figured it wasn’t a choice. After she turned her back, his frustration climbed, but he meant to challenge her. “I didn’t take you for a coward,” he said, raising his voice.

She whipped around with an indignant expression in her green eyes. “I beg your pardon?”

He wagered she would not ignore his next comment. “It’s quite obvious you are intimidated.”

She drew in a sharp breath and marched up to him. “I’m not intimidated, but I could never be a part your world any more than you could be a part of mine. For all I know you’re a criminal.”

He laughed. “That’s rich.”

“Your clothing and demeanor are a clear indication that you are a wealthy gentleman. My apron shows I am clearly a servant. We cannot associate with one another. It just isn’t done.”

He fisted his hands on his hips. “So we are not permitted to exchange pleasantries in the park because of my clothing?”

“Do not be absurd. It is a matter of class, as you well know.”

“Are we so different?” he said.

She let out a long sigh. “Do not be obtuse. No one would ever accept me in your social circle. Furthermore, I’m not in the habit of meeting strange men alone—not purposely at any rate.”

“I beg your pardon. Of course you cannot meet me here alone. Bring a family member with you as a chaperone. You can’t argue with that, now, can you?”

“As a matter of fact, I can.”

“Oh, come now. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”