Chapter 3 #2
“No, you might not.” He practically growled the words at her. Something about her made him feel unhinged, as though he might lose what flimsy hold he had on control every time he drifted near her. “I have every right to be here.”
“As do I.”
She tilted her chin. Her dark eyes fluttered as though she were attempting to produce a lie. Eventually, she merely said, “Well, I have business here.”
“What sort of business?” Maxwell snapped his jaw shut.
He knew he had no right to order her around as though she were his ward, like Lydia, and he had no desire for her to be beholden to him in the same manner as Lydia.
But he could not bear the idea of seeing her again, in a place like this, unprotected.
The last time she had come here, she had nearly been assaulted. She might not have registered quite how precarious her position was then, but he knew it well enough.
“That is none of your concern,” Lady Thalia interjected, raising her chin. “If I wished you to know my business, I would make a point of telling you.”
“Do you derive joy from being reckless?”
“Do you derive joy from interfering in other people’s affairs?” she returned, eyes flashing. He hardly knew when it had happened, but they were now close enough that if he chose so, he could sweep her into his arms. “I prize my independence, and that is something I never intend to yield.”
“This is not independence—it is stupidity.”
“I had not attracted any attention until now, when you have confronted me in public!”
“A lie, even if you do not know it.” He cast a quick glance down her front.
To his relief, he found her dress this time a sight more modest than it had been on the previous occasion, but her figure was still attractive and appealing.
The men in the corners of the room had been giving her appreciative looks since before Maxwell had approached her; if she had not seen them, that served as more proof that she was not ready to be in such a place.
“What makes you think you have the right to accost me here?” she demanded.
He looked up, assessing the tone of the room. The sooner he removed her from this place, the better.
“You ought to be thanking your lucky stars I am the one who found you tonight.”
“Well, I am not. Why should I be relieved that a man I almost married has inserted himself into my business in this way?”
Maxwell refocused on her face, lovelier than ever in her anger. No wonder so many gentlemen were craning their heads to get a better look at her; she was far more appealing than all the other women here, that was for certain.
Innocence was appealing when compared to jaded acquiescence by the usual ladies who frequented this place.
“Why did you come here?” he asked, stepping closer to signal to the other men that she was with him. “Was it for that other gentleman’s sake? Your friend? Where is he now?”
Lady Thalia pinched her lips together, evidently unwilling to answer.
Maxwell already knew it could be nothing good. No gentleman worth his salt would leave her here unprotected. And even if something did happen, he was notably unprepared, or perhaps unable, to protect her the way she ought to be protected.
Evidently, he could not have Lady Thalia’s best interests at heart.
Yet she liked this friend of hers.
She must have done, or else why would she be here?
“He strikes me as being spectacularly unsuited to having a friend such as you,” he said, his nostrils flaring as he watched her reaction.
If he had hoped she would refute the implication that there was something more between them than friendship, he was mistaken.
“He is very dear to me,” she said, chin raised. “And once again, you have no right to be making such inquiries into my life and personal matters.”
“Oh, is that so?” He scowled down at her.
There was violence in the air, and he wanted to remove her from the situation before any of it could be directed at her.
“Your personal life is none of my concern, but I do object to your presence here.” He took her arm, gently but firmly. “I insist upon taking you home.”
“Your Grace, I must—”
“Look around,” he said in a low voice. “Look at the men who are watching you now. If I leave you here alone, they will make advances. Do you wish to repel them? They may not take kindly to such a thing. Will your friend protect you?” He could not help the scorn from entering his voice.
“My carriage is waiting outside. I will take you home now so nothing more dangerous can happen. Do you object?”
Her mouth opened, but after a glance around the room, she closed it again. Her eyes flashed with defiance, but she finally capitulated with a nod.
Thalia fumed as she allowed the Duke to lead her through the crowd. He kept his hold on her arm, possessive and forceful, although he held her gently enough that he didn’t hurt her.
At the door, he caught the doorman’s attention and instructed her to leave a message for Elliot to inform him that she had gone with the Duke.
Hopefully, soon, he would emerge from paying off the remnants of his debts and could go home unscathed.
The Duke clearly thought Elliot was shirking his duty to her, but he had gone out of his way to dissuade her from coming with him, and when that had failed, had insisted that she wait for him to complete his business.
The idea that she and Elliot were in love was also laughable, but she disliked the Duke’s presumption in mentioning it, so she had no intention of correcting him.
The Duke’s carriage waited in a pool of shadows, and he practically shoved her inside.
“There is no need to behave as though you are kidnapping me,” she said as he climbed opposite, shutting the door behind them. A sharp tap on the roof later, they were off.
Thalia folded her arms, doing her best to ignore her companion.
“Kidnappers do not usually restore people to their homes,” he said in a dry voice that was utterly at odds with his intimidating aspect. He loomed in the gloom opposite like a specter.
She knew she ought to find it unpleasant and dislikeable—and she did find the Duke unagreeable in general.
But this…
This, she found shockingly appealing. The darkness, the way it cloaked him, and his presence despite it. He must have spent a great deal of time in this carriage because it smelled like him: a distinctly masculine scent that made her think of leather and soap.
Although now there was also the musky scent of sweat along with the mix. She also caught a faint hint of something she suspected might be blood. In the club, she had noticed his knuckles were injured. His fighting had either gone extremely well or extremely badly; she couldn’t decide which.
From what she had seen the last time, it had probably gone extremely well.
Her thighs shook as she pressed them together.
“I dislike your high-handedness,” she said into the silence.
“And I dislike that you repeatedly put yourself in danger with no thought of the consequences. Did you imagine that a young lady might suffer greatly if news of this got out?”
“And how would news get out?” she demanded, incensed. “Do you intend to spread rumors about me?”
“Me? No. But if I recognized you, then someone else might.”
“It is not a place that many noble gentlemen attend,” Thalia said, narrowing her eyes at him.
The first time she’d seen him, she’d been shocked, but more so when she had considered the sort of place it was.
Not a high-end institution for men of means and class.
This was the sort of place where gang leaders congregated to convince the unfortunate to part with more of their money. How Elliot had gotten mixed up in it, she didn’t know. He was a very respectable man, ordinarily.
The Duke said nothing to her, neither confirming nor denying her suspicions that he, too, wanted no one to know if his identity. In that place, he had not appeared to her as the polished gentleman at the picnic.
“It strikes me you are not very respectable either,” she said.
He scowled. “Whether or not that is true, you can hardly deny that if someone were to pick a fight with me—far less likely, given I do not hold the same appeal to the men there—then I would at least be able to defend myself.”
“I can defend myself!”
“With what?” He leaned even closer, bridging the space between them, and a new thrill ran through her.
She had never kissed a gentleman before, and she couldn’t help wondering what might happen if she were to kiss him now.
“You are hardly a lady accustomed to getting into brawls, I’d imagine. A man could easily overpower you.”
Furious, she matched him, her hands clenched by her sides. If he wasn’t careful, he would discover precisely how well she could defend herself.
“Do you have experience with overpowering ladies, Your Grace?”
“If I were in the habit of doing such things, do you truly suppose I would have allowed you to walk out of my library the first time we met?”
“I knew it!” She jabbed him in the chest, noticing belatedly how unforgiving his muscles were under her hands.
A boxer, indeed.
She had seen plenty of men with their knuckles wrapped, and several others being carried or dragged out of the premises. Regardless of what he thought, she was not a simpleton. She’d understood that the Duke was there to participate in boxing matches.
He took hold of her wrist, fingers wrapping around her bare skin just above her gloves. At the contact, she shivered.
His voice was velvety, sliding luxuriously over her skin. “What did you know?”
“That you are no gentleman.”
“On the contrary. I am every bit a gentleman, which is why I am taking you home tonight.”
“As opposed to your home where you might have your wicked way with me?”
“You would do well not to provoke gentlemen who are attempting to do you favors.”
“Favors?” She laughed. “I never once asked for your favor! And you have bestowed it most unwillingly.”
His eyes locked on hers, and despite the darkness, she thought she saw emotion flooding them.
“Quite right,” he said, his voice rasping. “You went so far as to ask me to retract the favor I had offered you and replace it with something wholly different.”
Despite herself, her cheeks flushed with heat. That had been such a desperate act, and she had been certain it would fail. Yet he had come to see her father the morning after, and her father had never once hinted that she might have had a role to play in the drama.
She could only assume he had shelled out a horrifically large sum to appease her father for so long.
Still, she hated being beholden to anyone.
“If you inform me of how much I owe you for that favor,” she said stiffly, “I would be happy to return it.”
His fingers contracted slightly on her wrist. “Do you think such a thing is so easy?”
“It is only money.”
“I have no wish for your money.” His voice was harsh, and he brought his face close to hers. “Do you think I did it with the hope of being repaid?”
“Then why?”
His gaze dropped to her mouth, and her heart stuttered. “Because…” he said with deliberation, but before he could finish the thought, the carriage pulled to a stop.
Suddenly aware of how close they were, she retracted her hand and sat back; he let her go.
“It appears we have arrived,” she said, hating how breathless her voice sounded.
“So it seems.” Contrary to the way he had held her, he sounded now nearly detached.
“And it is my house, after all.” The door opened. The Duke’s coachman stepped back, and the Duke held out his hand to help her down.
She ignored him, stepping free of herself.
“I would most appreciate it if you stopped meddling in my business, Your Grace,” she told him once her feet were on solid ground again. “Focus on your protégé and your own life, if you please.”
With that, she left him where he sat in the carriage and slipped through her father’s back door, holding a hand against her chest and her pounding heart.
Whatever had happened—or rather, almost happened—with the Duke, it could not happen again.