Chapter Ten
H eart thumping out of control, Louisa took calculated steps inside, shutting the door closed as she passed. The duke stood leaning against the corner of his desk. She walked up to him and stopped, not daring to meet his eyes. She couldn’t for fear she’d crumble.
“Now, would you kindly explain to me what you and Mrs. Jacobs were really discussing?”
Swallowing another hard ball of fear, she nodded. “How much did you hear?”
“I heard enough to tell me how upset you were with the nurse’s actions.”
Louisa took a deep breath and lifted her eyes to his. Instead of the anger she expected to see, his soft expression let her know her fears had been all for naught. At least for now.
“When I first saw Mrs. Jacobs and the twins, she was having them march up and down the walk—arms and back straight, chin up—like trained soldiers.”
His eyes widened, and finally she detected a hint of anger. “They were marching ?”
She nodded. “Yes, Your Grace. I asked why she was having two-year-olds march in such a way. I could not abide her tactics, mainly because they made no sense to me. Children should not have to act in such a manner, especially when they are so young. Their nurse treats them as if they are hers to command to do whatever she wants. The twins’ eyes were drawn with sadness, and it tugged on my heartstrings.”
“Now I want you to tell me,” he said, pulling away from the desk to stand in front of her, “why you are so emotional about it?” He lifted his finger to wipe a tear from her cheek.
It was all she could do not to collapse against him and sob. She wished she knew why it bothered her so much. She hiccupped a laugh and shrugged. “I don’t know, Your Grace, only that I could feel what those children must be feeling.”
“Have you remembered something about your past?”
“No…at least I don’t think I have. All I know is how frustrated I became to see Mrs. Jacobs treating your children with such lack of respect.” Her voice broke. “They are still babies. They should not be scolded, or slapped, or commanded…” A sob tore from her throat and she covered her face as tears poured down her cheeks. Once again, her heart broke knowing—actually knowing what those two had been feeling.
The duke’s arms wrapped around her as he brought her against his hard chest. Although she shouldn’t, she pressed herself against him and continued to cry. This sense of comfort was foreign, and she knew without a doubt it had been a long time since she’d experienced it.
Her head fit just under his chin, and she hadn’t realized he was so tall. Still, she was reluctant to leave his soothing embrace. Slowly, his hands slid up her back to her neck, and when his fingers connected with her skin, he caressed her. The sensation warmed her, yet at the same time hot tingles shot throughout her body.
She lifted her face to look at him. Tender eyes stared at her. Leisurely, his gaze moved over her face in interest, and she nearly melted.
His hands slid further up her neck until his thumbs toyed with her earlobes. The touch was so personal, so stirring, that she wanted to close her eyes and snuggle against him. Her breathing grew deeper. Faster. And by the quick rise and fall of his chest, something was affecting him because his ragged breaths matched hers.
“Louisa,” he said so very softly. “I get the impression you had a difficult past, and that is what has brought all of this on.”
She licked her dry lips again. “I wish I knew, but… I do feel like my past is one I don’t wish to revisit. Sometimes I get feelings—or fears, actually—that seem to come out of nowhere.”
When his gaze landed on her mouth, she froze. The color of his eyes turned a different shade of blue—like rain clouds covering the sky. Yet anger was not the emotion he held, not when his face appeared so soft. Not when his mouth parted and his face drew nearer…
Oh dear. He was going to kiss her. And she was going to allow it.
His lips hovered over hers and she closed her eyes, waiting. But within seconds, he pulled back.
On shaky legs she stepped away from him and sat on the edge of the couch. Dare she say anything about it? Had he really meant to kiss her or was that her imagination playing tricks on her? Knowing the way she liked to woolgather, this was probably all her doing.
Breathing slower, she wiped the moisture from her face before looking at him again. His hard expression didn’t tell her anything about his thoughts as he stared at the floor. Silence stretched between them, but she couldn’t think of anything to say.
“So—” He cleared his throat. “What else has Mrs. Jacobs done to my…the twins that you have witnessed and not approved of?”
She linked her fingers together tight in her lap. “I should not say, Your Grace.”
“Why?”
“I—I do not think it’s my place to gossip.”
“Did you witness this firsthand?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s not gossip.” He came toward her, stopped, and knelt on one knee in front of her. His eyes were dark again, but not with desire. Far from it, in fact. “Tell me what she did.”
“The other night they were hiding from her, and when she found them, she slapped Amanda across the face. I scolded Mrs. Jacobs then.”
He took a deep breath and placed his hand over hers. “Thank you for your assistance.”
Louisa nodded. “I could not let her treat your children so disrespectfully.” She disentangled her fingers to clutch onto his hand. “But please, Your Grace, don’t say anything to her on my account. I’m having a rather difficult time making friends in your household, and I fear I have already made Mrs. Jacobs my enemy.”
“Not to worry, my dear.” He gave her a half smile. “I shall keep an eye on her from now on. The twins should not be treated as such by her or anyone else.”
Relief poured through Louisa and she relaxed her shoulders. “No, they should not.”
He stood, pulling her hand so she rose with him. “I appreciate your candidness. You may leave now.”
She curtsied and walked to the door. As she rested her hand on the doorknob, she looked over her shoulder at him. He was back to leaning against the corner of the desk again, his gaze riveted to hers.
“Before I leave,” she said, “I must apologize.”
“For what?”
“Destroying your rose bush.” She shrugged. “I fear we have discovered yet another talent I do not possess.”
He tilted his head back and laughed. The richness of his laughter weakened her legs and she feared she’d soon be mush on the floor. This was a normal feeling she received while around him and she quite enjoyed how it made her heart light.
*
Trevor dismounted and tied his horse to a post in front of the tavern his brother, Tristan, frequented. Trevor didn’t have to ask if his brother was here, it was common knowledge anymore. Since Tristan had returned to the family two years ago, he’d been hiding from the world, but not from his friends at the tavern.
Tristan was only a year younger than Trevor, but twenty-eight was still too old to be acting like a young, foolish man fresh out of school—like Tristan enjoyed displaying quite often. Because Trevor was almost thirty, he took life a little more seriously, and of course being the oldest brother, he felt Tristan needed someone older and wiser who took on more responsibility to assist him in times of peril.
He walked into the dimly lit tavern. Standing just inside the door, he waited for his eyes to adjust to the lighting. Strange how most taverns he’d been inside didn’t have windows so were dark no matter what time of the day it was. Six tables with worn chairs filled the dirty room. Two barmaids scurried from one table to the next, carrying drinks for their patrons. The scent of alcohol permeated the air with a nasty stench, and if Trevor didn’t hurry and leave, his stomach would protest the stench.
But talking to Tristan was most important. The younger brother had been on his mind since Trevor heard about Lord Hollingsworth’s murder.
It was easy to spot Tristan. He sat in the corner with a mug up to his mouth as foam coated his upper lip. When he saw Trevor, he motioned with his hand to come closer.
Trevor neared the table and smirked. “For some reason, I knew I would find you here.”
Tristan chuckled. “But of course, my good brother. Do you not know this is my home away from home?”
“Indeed, it is.” Trevor sat and leaned his elbows on the table. “How much have you consumed thus far this evening?”
“I am only on my second drink. Why? Would you like me to order you one? I have a close and personal relationship with the barmaids. I’m quite certain they would bring me anything I need.”
“Please, do not trouble yourself on my account.”
“So why did you decide to grace me with your presence tonight?” Tristan lifted the mug and took another drink.
“I have been worried about you. It has been quite a while since we have talked on a serious level.”
Tristan flipped a hand in the air. “If you are going to give me one of your big-brother lectures, save it for when I need it. I assure you, my good man, I do not require it tonight.”
Trevor shrugged. “As much as I hate to disappoint you, I fear tonight will have to be the night for that talk.”
Setting the mug hard on the table, Tristan rolled his eyes. “As you wish.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “Say what you came to say and then leave me to sulk in my misery.”
Trevor would like to help his brother, but didn’t know how. Trey was actually the brother better at knowing how to help Tristan since Trey had relied on spirits a lot before he married Judith. “I just want to know if you have heard about Hollingsworth.”
Tristan nodded. “Of course. All of London knows by now. The constable has even graced my doorstep with his presence. He wanted to discover my whereabouts the night the good lord was killed.” He pushed his fingers through his wheat-tinted hair. “Can you believe people actually think I killed Hollingsworth?”
“Where did they get such an insane notion?” Trevor answered sarcastically.
His brother leaned on the table, closer to Trevor. A day-old beard had grown on Tristan’s face, and he scratched his while his gaze narrowed.
“As much as I hated the man, I had plenty of chances to end his life in these past two years. I did not kill the bloke, even if I wanted to.”
“And should I be worried about the widow Hollingsworth?”
Tristan snorted a laugh. “Worried? Pray tell, why would you be worried about her?”
“Because she is no longer married to the lout, that’s why.” Trevor arched a critical eyebrow. “And I worry that my brother might get it in his intoxicated head that he wants to talk to her again.”
Letting out a brash laugh, Tristan sat back in his chair, shaking his head. “What a wild imagination you have, dear brother. Can you not remember what she did to me four years ago?”
“I remember. I just pray you remember.”
“No need to fear. That memory is something I shall never forget again.”
“Splendid.” Trevor pushed away from the table and stood. “My work here is done.” He smiled. “Please, do not be a stranger. You know where I live, and you are welcome to visit any time.”
“And—” Tristan waved his hand through the air, motioning toward the room—“you know where I live, as well.”
“Have a good evening,” Trevor muttered as he walked away.
“I plan on it.”