Chapter 18
When Letitia had arrived at Rutley House, she had given up her previous lease on the rooms where Sarah had been living.
She had hesitated, knowing that her job with the duke—then a stranger and an irritant—was not likely to last more than a month.
She doubted she would easily find a place that was quite as inexpensive.
But she had not been in a position to spend money when she could save it.
She regretted that, now.
“Have you found a place yet?” Sarah asked the morning before Letitia was due to leave, her one-week deadline nearing its expiration.
“Sarah,” Letty said sweetly. “My dearest and oldest friend. The sister I would have chosen, given the choice. If you ask me that again, I am going to throttle you.”
“It’s going marvelously, then,” Sarah said, undeterred by Letitia’s threat of violence. Letitia threw a pillow at her. She missed.
The housekeeper, taking pity on her, offered to help out with Iris while Letitia chased down different possibilities for lodgings. Letty’s standards weren’t overarchingly high, but she was resolutely disheartened by what she found.
Either places were already snatched up, outrageously outside of Letitia’s budget, or so run down or dangerous—or both—that she did not dare stay there for as much as a single night.
She returned to Rutley House that night, feeling disheartened. It was hard to say what possibility was more horrifying—admitting to Ezra that she actually needed to stay longer than she had originally declared, or living in one of the places she had seen that afternoon.
Sarah bounced on her toes in excitement when Letitia entered the sumptuous bedchamber that, for one more night, would belong to her.
“Guess what, guess what?” she cried. Before Letitia could answer, Sarah thrust a leaflet into her hand. “The duke said that he was out and about today and found this!”
Letitia looked at the paper, scarcely daring to hope. The place was… serviceable. No, it was beyond serviceable. It was neat, well-maintained, and in an entirely respectable neighborhood. It ought to cost far more than the paper announced, but Letitia supposed that it was small.
She didn’t need space, though. She would be perfectly happy with a small one.
She beamed at Sarah. “This is remarkable.”
“Isn’t it?” Sarah looked so excited that Letty might have thought that her friend was the one destined to live there. “I suppose it rather pays to be a duke. When you are looking for something, you find only the best.”
Letitia could not help but smile. She did not believe for a minute that Ezra had just found this place. He had asked people. She did not even have enough knowledge of ducal affairs to know whom he had spoken to, but she knew he had asked someone. He had done that for her.
“I will go see them at the posted address,” she told Sarah. “First thing in the morning.”
Letitia slept deeply that night, the worry that had been weighing upon her these past few days pleasantly absent.
When she dressed and packed the next day, deciding to be optimistic about the leaflet and take her possessions with her, she went downstairs to find Ezra waiting for her.
She was genuinely happy to see him. It had not sat well with her to think she might leave without saying goodbye. She couldn’t help but notice how different that felt compared to how she’d felt when she left Peter’s house.
Then, she had been half-choked with terror that everything would fall apart at the last moment. She had not taken a full breath until she had been away from his house for a few days.
Now, the only thing clogging her throat was sadness.
She would miss living here. It was messy, complicated, and dangerous. But she would miss it.
“Everything all right?” Ezra asked, a small, bittersweet smile on his face.
She nodded. “Yes, of course,” she lied. She pasted a smile on her face, hoping it looked a little more convincing than his. “Thank you for the leaflet, by the way. I am going to go see to it right away.”
“No need for thanks,” he said, and it felt good to see the glimmer of amusement lurking behind his eyes. “As I told Sarah, I just happened upon it.”
“Oh,” she said, making it clear that she didn’t believe him for a moment. “Of course. My mistake.”
“Don’t trouble yourself,” he teased. “It’s an easy error to make.”
She chuckled. It felt comfortable, bantering with him. It still hurts a little. But it felt good, too.
“Can I…” He so rarely looked at a loss, but now, Ezra glanced down at his shoes before continuing. “Would you allow me to accompany you to your new lodgings? I would feel more comfortable if I knew it was safe.”
“Yes,” she heard herself say. “That would be very nice.”
“Oh, good, you agreed,” he said, miming a swipe of relief against his forehead. “I was prepared to snatch that bag right out of your hand to make you permit me to go with you.”
The laugh she let out was startled. This was better, this strangely usual combativeness between them. Who would have thought that she would ever be in a position where she could argue with a duke and, instead of feeling stark terror, she would laugh and consider it another regular day?
Her laughter died when she remembered that it wasn’t a regular day. It was the last day that things would be like this.
Ezra stole her bag anyway and strode out toward where his carriage was already waiting. The arrogant sot had really assumed that he would say yes, had he not? She followed him, shaking her head at his absurdity.
A duke, carrying her bags. Ridiculous.
The whole thing was so good-hearted and so utterly outlandish that Letty didn’t even pause to consider why this was a bad idea until they had gotten in the carriage together.
She and Ezra had gotten into enough trouble when they were in full-sized rooms with adequate light and no guarantees of privacy.
Now, they were in a close carriage. Where it was dark.
And where they would not be disturbed until they rumbled the long distance from Mayfair to the residential neighborhood bordering Covent Garden, where the small flat was located.
It would not be a quick ride.
Letitia could hear his breath and the faint rasp of fine wool when he shifted his position.
His long legs meant that, no matter how far to one side she sat, he was always just a few inches away.
She could smell him—the light, expensive scent of his laundry powder and the warm, masculine aroma of him.
She stared fixedly out the window. A building, she thought brightly to herself. Another building. Someone is sweeping manure from the streets. Just lovely.
The scenery did not lend itself to intense focus.
“Letty,” Ezra said, disturbing her determined attempt not to notice him. “Talk to me.”
“Will you think me very rude if I decline?” she asked, adopting her most prim tone.
“No,” he said, “but I will think you a coward.” The words were harsh, but the tone was teasing. “Come, please. I told you I would respect your wishes; I intend to. But I do not wish for us to part on bad terms.”
It would have been unreasonable for her to refuse. He had not given her a single reason to be unkind, not when he had dealt with her honestly and generously.
She could be brave for a little while longer.
“I am sorry,” she said. “I don’t want that, either.”
Her hands were resting at her sides. He reached for one, as if he intended to hold it, then he stopped, recalling himself.
“You don’t need to apologize,” he said. “I am not a fool; I know your situation is more delicate than mine. I know that I might lightly gamble something that could spell ruination for you.”
Her laugh was a little bitter.
“I wish that just knowing it made it different,” she said.
“I do, too,” he said.
She was always afraid of scandal, but any scandal that could come from them being in a carriage together was already inevitable. She might as well be bold.
She reached out and touched his hand. He flipped his grip and squeezed her fingers once. When they let go, Letty felt, for the first time in a very long time, like she was truly in danger of crying.
She blinked quickly when the carriage finally rumbled to a stop, hoping to clear away any lingering wetness. If there were remaining signs, they could no doubt be attributed to the sudden increase in light as they stepped into the morning sun.
Ezra offered her a hand to help her down, as if she were a proper lady. It made Letitia feel a little hysterical, truth be told.
Fortunately, she managed to collect herself before speaking to the landlady, because Ezra did not treat her like men of his station often treated ladies, as if they had no brains in their heads.
Instead, he let her converse with the neatly-dressed matron, merely standing nearby and lending his ducal countenance to the proceedings.
It would be so much easier if he would do just one thing to make her furious with him. She spared a moment to fondly reminisce about the era when he had done nothing but irritate her.
“Well, ye seem respectable enough,” the woman said, her accent faintly Scottish, clearly worn down by years of residence in London. “I daenae like to rent to just anybody. But ye have good reference, and ye know the rent?”
“She does,” Ezra said, interjecting for the first time. “And I will personally speak to Miss Knightley’s honor. You will not have to worry about her paying on time.”
That was a little high-handed, she supposed, but not quite annoying enough to make her angry.
“Hmph,” the landlady said emphatically. “Good. Well, here is your key. Rent is due on the first of the month. No exceptions. And any… carousing and ye will be out on your behind before ye can blink, no matter how many well-heeled connections ye have. Understand?”
Letitia found this brusque attitude oddly comforting.
“I understand, ma’am,” she said politely.
The landlady harrumphed again, put the key in Letty’s hand, and disappeared in a flurry of voluminous skirts.