Chapter 25 Derek #2
His head snapped up, and he met her gaze, those blue eyes colorless in the dark of his study.
But he could make out her outline. Her hood was down now, and his gaze traced the thin frame of her face, the line of her pert nose, the gentle curve of her ear.
He didn’t think he’d have ever come up with that as her reasoning.
“I abandoned our arrangement…and you’re here out of concern?”
“I was afraid something had happened. To prevent you.”
He didn’t drop her gaze, though it probably didn’t matter here in the dark.
“Nothing happened. I simply didn’t want to keep the engagement.
” He was curt, rude. But she didn’t flinch at the bite in his tone.
It was the truth, after all. He didn’t want her here now either. All he wanted was to be alone.
She rolled her lips in and made a soft mmm noise. “How long have you been sitting here?”
He leaned back against the wall and frowned, let out an annoyed huff. He had no bloody idea. There had been light peeking out from behind the curtains of his study when he’d first landed here. It was long gone now. “I don’t know what time it is. But perhaps since…half-past three?”
“Does this happen to you often?” The question was so soft he almost missed it.
“I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.” Did he fall into a deep melancholy often? Did the darkness engulf him, trying to take him as its own? Did numbness steal over him to the point where he was indifferent to everything, to life? So many questions. The answer to them was all the same.
“When I was six, my mother went to visit a friend in London,” Miss Forester said.
He rolled his head against the wall until he faced her. Her profile was to him, her hands tangled together atop her knees. His mind was too sluggish follow why she was saying this.
“That visit has lasted fourteen years.”
His breath stalled. She looked at him then. He didn’t detect any sadness. Or perhaps a sad acceptance.
“In the years that followed, I really struggled. I wrote to her for years without a response. Eventually I gave up, but...” Her words drifted off and when she spoke again they were barely a whisper. “I kept writing, even though I stopped sending them. It was pathetic, really.”
It wasn't. Not at all. He completely understood. The desperation. The bone-deep yearning for a parent's affection. How the act of writing to a mother who didn't exist, allowed her to pretend some part of her mother was still there. An attempt to fill the emptiness left in their absence.
“I didn’t—still don’t, if I’m honest—understand why she left us.
My papa is not the most affectionate of parents.
Not the most…present. I was extremely lonely for a very long time.
I don’t know your reasons, my lord. But this”—she waved a hand around the still, shadowed study—“I recognize this. I have been here many times.”
He frowned hard and tried to swallow down the thickness building in his throat.
Tried to glare away the burn building behind his eyes.
Something in her admission lit him on fire.
That this lively, intelligent woman had suffered the same shadows he did.
He hoped she was free of them now. This woman was meant to shine, to only ever be touched by light.
“You don’t have to say anything,” she whispered. “I don’t need your reasons. I’m happy to just sit in silence. I know I would have appreciated something as simple as that back then.”
Their eyes met again. Did he want that? All he wanted was to curl up on the cold wood floor until this passed. If it passed. Would it help to have Miss Forester stay?
Miss Forester… Here in his study… At a very late hour… Without a chaperone…
His eyes snapped wide. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
The chit had the nerve to chuckle.
“It’s not funny, Miss Forester. I’m not the one who is supposed to be worried about your reputation. I am the one trying to ruin you! What do you think you’re doing sneaking into my home? How did you get here? Who knows you’re here? Where did all that cleverness you hide away in your brain go?”
His pulse stuttered. How had she managed to sneak into his home? A…woman insists you called for her services. He almost laughed, which was incredible considering his current state. She’d pretended to be a prostitute. This clever woman. She’d never cease to shock him.
And now, said shocking woman was shaking, hiccupping with laughter.
She was clearly dicked in the nob. She waved a hand in front of her face and let out a pheeeeewf.
“It’s nice to see a bit of you coming back.
” Her amusement danced through her words.
“My aunt is currently out cold, drunk as an emperor. I may have continued to ply her with claret with this little outing in mind. And then I simply took a hackney using some of my winnings at The Devil’s Eye—”
“You what?” Derek’s heart rate spiked, flew through his veins. She took a hackney? At Christ knew what time it was? Probably well past midnight. His hands tightened where they clenched his knees. Bloody fucking hell. She could have been abducted, raped, killed. All of the above.
She made a soft crooning noise, one that sounded very much like it was mocking him. “Lord Dunmore… Is that worry I hear in your voice? Concern over my welfare?”
“No,” he scoffed. “Don’t be absurd. I’m not worried over your welfare. I am just upset because I cannot bed you if you get yourself killed. It is simply my prick that is upset. Not me.” His chest rose and fell roughly. His lungs were clearly working now.
“Of course,” she said solemnly. And also so-very mocking.
“But never fear, we womenfolk are not so helpless as you men think we are. How could we possibly do anything, travel anywhere, without a man to gallantly escort us. It might surprise you, my lord, but there are countless women who live in London without husbands, without fathers, without brothers. Do you believe they never leave their homes?”
Well, of course they left their homes. But they weren’t her. It was different. For some reason. He just couldn’t remember what that reason was at the moment. “I still stand by that it was bloody daft,” he grumbled.
“I don’t disagree. But I’m not sure it’s any more daft than going to a mysterious location to meet a notorious rogue just because he commanded me to do so.”
She had him there.
“You seem to be feeling a bit better.” Her words were slow, hesitant. Like she was afraid to bring attention to it.
He relaxed against the wall, realizing his arms weren’t gripped around him any longer but hanging loosely.
Not as heavy as before. He felt a bit more…
human. The slow flicker of coming back to life seemed closer, brighter, like he was approaching the opening of a cave after having been lost in its darkness.
“I suppose I just needed a clothes-stealing chit to shock me.” Apparently, a wild minx was just the balm his melancholy didn’t know it needed. The light at the end of the tunnel.
She nudged his shoulder, and something warm and foreign swirled in his chest.
“It may not have been the wisest decision, but I’m glad I came. Call me na?ve, but from the little I’ve learned of you thus far, you don’t seem the type to go back on your word. Or at least not without sending a note.”
An amused snort escaped him. She may be the only one to believe that. And honestly, he wouldn’t hesitate to break his word. For someone who didn’t deserve it. But that wasn’t Miss Forester.
They fell into a comfortable silence, nothing but their soft, even breaths, and their shoulders pressing together.
Her presence did help. He was still exhausted; the thought of getting off the floor was much too arduous a task.
But for some reason, having her beside him… made it a little more bearable.