Her Brooding Duke (The Worthington Legacy #7)

Chapter Fourteen

O ut of all the garments for her to shrink, why did it have to be his favorite shirt?

Trevor marched toward Louisa’s room, anger filled him with each step. Yesterday, he’d promised not to blame her for messing up, but this was where he drew the line. Did she even realize how much he’d spent for that shirt?

He hadn’t realized it was a size smaller until readying himself for a dinner party tonight. When he pulled the shirt over his head, he knew right away something was amiss. The material hugged his shoulders and chest more than they should. The sleeves were not billowy or long, but snuggling against his arms and ending just below his elbows. He didn’t have to ask Mrs. Smythe where she’d put Louisa today. His ruined shirt told him enough.

He reached her bedroom door, stopped, and pounded. “Louisa, I would like to speak with you, if you don’t mind,” he snapped.

“Uh…” Bare feet padded on the floor. “As you wish, but—”

Trevor didn’t wait to hear the rest of her thoughts before he swung open the door and stepped inside. “Do you realize what you have done—”

Near the fireplace, wrapped in a night rail as damp hair hung down her shoulders and arms, stood Louisa. She took his breath away. Oh good heavens… Why hadn’t he waited for her answer? Gazing at her made it hard to breathe, and if his throat kept tightening, he wouldn’t be able to swallow, either.

She stood clutching a towel to her bosom with wide eyes. Her mouth parted as if she wanted to speak, but only quick breaths escaped.

Inwardly, he groaned. “Forgive me, Louisa. I should have waited for you—”

She gasped and pointed to his shirt. “Did I do that?”

It took him only a moment to realize what she was referring to—the very reason he came here in the first place but seemingly forgotten about. Before he could respond, she hurried to him and clutched his arm. Tears swam in her eyes.

“Forgive me, Your Grace. I honestly thought I had followed directions in the laundry room.” She sniffed and wiped away a stray tear. “But I fear I have no skills at all.”

Trevor released a heavy sigh and silently cursed his temper. He’d made her cry again. “Louisa, forgive me. I shouldn’t have—”

“Indeed, you have every right.” She threaded her fingers through her hair and pushed back the damp strands from her face. “I will leave first thing in the morning to find other employment. Although, at this point, I have no idea what kind of employment to search for.” Her voice broke and she bit her trembling, bottom lip.

Shaking his head, he stepped closer to her. “That is utterly ridiculous, Louisa. I’m not sending you away.”

She sniffed. “You should. I cannot do anything but destroy things.”

“I’m quite certain you can do something, but we haven’t found it yet.”

“You have so much patience, Your Grace. By the time we discover what it is I can do, you may not have a house left standing.” She swept her hand, indicating his attire. “Or any clothes to wear.”

Her comment—as serious as she tried to make it—made Trevor grin. “Oh, Louisa. I believe I have just discovered your skill.”

She arched an eyebrow. “You have?”

“I enjoy having you around because you make me laugh, which is something I haven’t done for a long time.”

Her face cracked a smile as she wiped away a stray tear. “You are being very humorous, Your Grace. But there is no possible way I can find work as a jester. It just isn’t done in this century.”

He laughed again. “No, my sweet. You will not find work as a jester.” Sighing heavily, he glanced down at his shirt. “Well, I suppose I should change. I have a dinner party to attend this evening.”

“I hope I have not made you late.”

“Of course not. Are you not aware that a duke is never late?”

“So true. Out of respect, they cannot serve the food unless the duke—or someone with the highest title—is there.”

“You are correct.” He tilted his head. “I truly believe now that you have worked at an estate at one time. You know your way around a manor, even if you don’t know how to work the different positions.”

She nodded. “I think you are correct. In fact, earlier this evening, I did remember something.”

Excitement shot through him as he grasped her hands. “Please tell.”

“I burned myself on the stove,” she said, lifting up her palm, “and I remember being a young girl and burning myself. My parents cared for me. Although in my memory I couldn’t see their faces clearly, I could tell they were dressed as you and your mother are. I don’t know what might have happened to them to make me live like a vagabond, but I do feel these were indeed my parents.”

“So you feel like you were raised in a good home with noble parents?”

“I do.”

“Very interesting. I would love to test a few theories on you to see what you know. One I could probably do right now.”

“What is it?”

“I would like to see how many dances you know.”

Louisa stared wide eyed at him for a brief moment before snorting an unladylike laugh he thought was adorable.

“Me? Dance?” She shook her head. “I think not, Your Grace. Although I don’t remember my life, I would certainly know if I have ever danced before.”

“Come now.” He held out his hand. “Let us see for ourselves, shall we? Have you danced the Scotch Reel? We shall try that out first.”

“But…” She acted as if she would say more, but then paused a few moments before shaking her head. “We don’t have enough people. We need at least four more dancers.”

Trevor grinned. “Very good. You do know about that dance. Can you now show me what you would do if we had that many more people with us?”

Staring at the floor, she stood in silence, then slowly her feet began to move in the right direction. The fancy footwork required would be difficult if one had never attempted this dance, but Louisa moved through the steps perfectly. Every second that passed, her eyes grew rounder and her smile wider.

“Splendid,” he praised. “What about the Cotillion?”

She started to shake her head, but soon she took his hand as he led her through the beginning of the dance. Excitement jumped in her eyes as she realized she could dance. His heart also accelerated. For certain, Louisa was no vagabond at all. The happy expression on her face warmed his heart.

“Very good, Louisa. Now there is one more I want to see if you know.”

Her head bobbed in a quick nod. “Oh, yes. Let’s see what else I remember.”

He hesitated with this dance. Although scandalous, the waltz was still played in some ballrooms across England. Napoleon had tried to make this dance socially acceptable, but most of Society was appalled at the closeness of the dance. However, if Louisa had indeed been raised by parents of Quality, she would have known this—either scandalous or not.

And this gave him the perfect excuse to hold her close.

Trevor took her hand in his and placed his other around her waist, slowly pulling her to him. “Do you know the waltz?”

Her buoyancy dulled considerably as a slight tremble took over her smile. But her feet moved with his as he led her around the small bedroom floor. Suddenly, her exuberance changed, and a different expression crossed her face. He’d seen this one before—the most recent was when they were by the pond and right before he’d kissed her.

“I do know this dance,” she whispered. “Not many people will dance the waltz.”

“Indeed. To some, it’s considered scandalous.”

“You are correct.”

“But you are dancing with me now,” he said in a soft voice as his heartbeat knocked crazily against his ribs.

Her gaze flitted between his eyes and his mouth as the color in her eyes darkened. His throat turned dry, and he couldn’t swallow even if his life depended on it. The more they danced, the closer he pulled her as if it were natural to want her so near. To make matters worse, she didn’t try to stop him like a proper girl would have done.

Together, their footsteps slowed as their gazes collided, and held. Although kissing her the first time had been a mistake, kissing her twice would be a death wish. It wasn’t right; propriety tried to reason with him in his head, yet the quick beat of his heart argued.

Her chest moved just as quickly as his did; her ragged breath fanned his face. It wasn’t until the front of her body touched his when he realized he’d pulled her that close. Miraculously, though, their feet had stopped.

All he could think about was the sweet, tender kiss they’d shared at the pond. In his ears, the only sound he heard was her fast breath and the crashing of his own heart. He should say something to break this incredible spell, but a part of him didn’t want it broken, and that part of him was the one in control right now.

He dropped his mouth to hers in a passionate kiss. Her fingers dug into his shirt, clinging to him as if she was afraid to let him go. Her lips met his demanding ones and responded as if she couldn’t get enough. He knew he couldn’t.

Pressing her against him harder, his hands wandered over her back, threading through her silky hair, and sliding down all over her gown that clung to her where her hair was dampened. Beneath his fingertips, the welts on her back were pronounced because now she had nothing to hide them but her thin, damp gown.

She’s been whipped! The thought jerked him back to reality. Why would a gentle-bred woman have been whipped like a common thief?

He broke the kiss and slowly pulled away, not wanting to make her aware of why he’d stopped. When her eyes fluttered open a blush stole across her cheeks.

“Forgive me, Trevor,” she whispered. “Once again, I have lost all my senses when in your arms.”

His heart flipped upon hearing his name on her lips—just like what had happened at the pond. “No, it’s my fault, dear Louisa. I can’t seem to…” He shook his head, stopping himself from admitting his weakness. “I should not have taken advantage—”

“No, don’t say that.” She brought her fingers to his lips. “I participated fully. You did not take advantage of me at all.”

“I see it differently, my dear. I’m probably a good ten years older than you. I should know better.”

“You forget, I have my own mind.” She shrugged and chuckled. “What I know about it, anyway. But I could have stopped you at any time.”

“So you are correct.”

“However—” she cleared her throat and stepped back—“I fear I have made you late for your dinner party.”

He nodded. “If I hurry, I will not be late, I assure you. Have a pleasant evening.” He nearly tripped on his way to the door, hurrying to leave. Cursing his weakness, he silently promised himself he would never do that again. Yet in the back of his mind, he knew he would kiss her if given another chance.

*

Trevor stood amongst a group of men who partook of their brandy and cheroots after leaving the dining room. He smiled and nodded to those around him, but his ears didn’t register to what conversation was abuzz at the moment. Instead, he replayed the moments with Louisa. How could he keep himself from thinking of her right now? Not only did he enjoy their kiss, he discovered a little more about the mystery woman.

Indeed, she must have been raised with parents of Quality. How else would she have known those dance steps—and react the way she did to the waltz? Hopefully, she would remember more soon and relieve this burden of doubt he had in his mind before he went insane. Men from Trevor’s upbringing did not consort with servants in such a way. True, his father may have caused a lot of scandal and brought shame upon the family, but Trevor was not that kind of man—and he was never going to be.

“Your Grace, why are you standing by yourself?” Lord Hawthorne sidled up next to him and faced the glass door overlooking the flower garden in the backyard. “You must be lost in your thoughts, because I cannot see anything outside that could hold your interest for so long.”

Trevor smiled at Dominic and lowered his voice. “My good man, you should know me well enough to realize dinner socials like this bore me after a few minutes.”

“Indeed, they do.” Dominic lifted his goblet of brandy in a salute before swallowing the remainder in the glass.

“How are you faring this evening?” Trevor asked. “I’m surprised to see Trey is not with you.”

“Not tonight, no. Trey called off because he wanted to spend some time with his darling wife.”

Trevor smiled. “As it should be.”

“Indeed, Trey is one fortunate man.”

“Agreed.” Trevor lifted his glass in a salute and took a quick swallow.

“I hope you don’t mind my asking, but”—Dominic leaned closer to make the conversation more private—“how is that lovely servant of yours? I have thought of nothing else since I met Louisa. She had the most enchanting eyes, does she not?”

Trevor rolled his eyes, wishing Nic wasn’t such a rake. “Hawthorne, I’m quite certain other things have been on your mind, but Louisa is doing fine. I thank you for asking.”

“Has she settled into any position yet?”

“None as of yet, but we will not give up hope.”

Hawthorne chuckled and rubbed his chin. “I still believe I have seen her before—or at least someone who resembles her. In fact, let me see if he’s still here.” Nic stretched his neck as he looked across the crowd of men. “There he is.” He waved his hand. “Wellesley, over here, if you please.”

Trevor gritted his teeth. He bunched his hands into fists and quickly rested them behind his back to keep from using Nic’s face as a punching bag. Trevor had warned Nic not to stick his nose into Louisa’s business. But as Trevor watched the other gentleman hurry to Nic’s side, unease washed over Trevor. Although Wellesley and the Danvers’ deceased daughter were nothing but cousins, the resemblance between this man and Louisa was unsettling.

“Wellesley, my good man, have you been introduced to Trevor Worthington, Fifth Duke of Kenbridge?”

“No, I have not.” Wellesley bowed. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Grace.”

Trevor bowed. “Likewise, I’m sure. I do believe I’m acquainted with your uncle and aunt, however I have not spoken with them for quite some time. How are they faring?”

“They are very well, thank you.”

“Forgive me for asking,” Nic began, “but I cannot recall if you have any cousins, Wellesley.”

“Not with the Danvers, I’m afraid.”

Trevor released a relieved sigh. Yet, at the same time, he almost wished Louisa had been part of this man’s family, just so they’d know who she was.

“They had no children?” Nic inquired again.

“Actually,” Wellesley added, “they did have a daughter at one time, but she drowned when she was twelve years of age.”

“Indeed?” Trevor asked quickly. “What was her name?”

As much as he didn’t want Dominic to keep prodding into this man’s life, Trevor did want some answers to the mysterious woman he couldn’t keep from wanting to kiss and hold. He must know why this woman confused him so.