Chapter 59 Livy
Livy
Footsteps thundered up the stairs, and Livy’s gaze flew to the door of the Duke’s chamber. She and Dorothea—the dowager insisted they were much past formalities at this point—were watching over the Duke.
He’d had another brief moment of consciousness this morning.
They’d gotten him to consume an entire cup of broth.
It was the longest he’d been lucid, but he still hadn’t seemed to have any idea where he was or who he was with.
His injuries were slowly healing, but the man was terribly thin.
Alarmingly so. Livy remembered the first time she’d assisted with repositioning the Duke, something they’d started doing every few hours to prevent bedsores.
It’d been like trying to move a stone statue.
Now? Dorothea and she could manage it just the two of them.
Derek appeared in the doorway, chest heaving. “How is he?”
Livy caught Dorothea’s gaze, an unspoken conversation passing between them.
Livy’d update him. The dowager was exhausted.
The Duke’s awakenings brought around such hope, only for him to disappear from them again.
Each time, Dorothea seemed frailer and frailer.
Livy gave the dowager’s arm a soft squeeze and then strode over to Derek.
“Let’s go somewhere else, and I’ll fill you in.”
Derek nodded, spun on his heel, and headed down the hall. Livy quickly followed—to where Derek led to his chambers. He ushered her inside and then pinned her against the door, mouth falling on hers.
She froze for a heartbeat, eyes wide, then she melted into him.
His tongue pushed into her mouth, desperate and determined.
She could taste his fear, feel his relief with every roll of his tongue.
Besides their brief embrace at the scene last night, they hadn’t had any contact, hadn’t been alone.
She’d slipped into an exhausted slumber early, and when she’d awoken this morning, Derek had been gone.
His fingers cradled her face, sinking in to the point of discomfort. She held on to his arms, held on for dear life and did her best to keep up. To provide him with assurance that she was here.
He finally pulled back, ragged breaths bursting from him, and his forehead dropped to hers. “Apologies,” he said on a broken breath. “I’ve been dying to do that since I laid eyes on you last night. I just needed to feel—Needed proof—”
That she was alive. Safe.
“Where were you this morning?”
He pulled away and led them to a pair of armchairs. She went to sit in the one adjacent to his and found herself unceremoniously pulled into his lap. “Not letting you go,” he growled.
Her heart warmed.
“I went to see Lord Wentworth.”
And all warmth fled. The foundling home. She searched the green irises staring up at her.
“I think he’s responsible for the fire last night.”
She nodded slowly. She’d thought the same. Her agreement didn’t seem to take him by surprise because he continued on.
“I was hoping to gain information. Catch him unawares, see if he might betray himself. Not that I had any idea what I was going to do with that information.”
“Blackmail? For the foundling home.”
His chin jerked back, and something that looked very much like awe reflected back at her. “Bloody hell, Livy. You really are ruthless.”
She shrugged a shoulder. Perhaps once she would have been shocked and appalled at where her thoughts had gone, but after everything she’d experienced… The world wasn’t black and white. They lived in shades of grey. “The man nearly killed me. I think blackmail is paltry in comparison.”
“And that right there is why blackmail isn’t the answer.
He tried to kill you, Livy, I’m sure of it.
He knew things about last night he shouldn’t have.
” Derek’s voice was tight. A hardness lingered that she hadn’t heard from him before.
He pulled something from his coat pocket. “And you’re not the only one.”
She took the scroll, brows pinched. She glanced at him in question, but he just indicated toward the parchment. She unrolled and began scanning. It was…a request for payment.
Per our agreement, the balance of our arrangement is now due. However, it appears you failed to inform me of the full extent of the job. The agreed-upon payment is now insufficient for a task of this magnitude.
I expect triple the original sum by Thursday at the latest. It would be most unfortunate if letters detailing the tampering of a duke’s curricle were to find their way into the wrong hands…with your name clearly attached.
You know where to send it.
Livy’s hand flew to her mouth but did nothing to cover her gasp. “No.” She met Derek’s dark gaze.
Derek dipped his chin stiffly.
“How did you get this?” she breathed, her heart in her throat. This was…this was proof the man tried to have a duke murdered. Something that was still very much a possibility.
“His daughter. She found the original in his desk and transcribed this version.” He dusted his knuckles down her cheek. “Another clever woman.” Derek’s voice dropped to a whisper. “He beats her. I recognized the signs.”
Her chest seized. For Miss Wentworth. For Derek. Because she knew what that discovery would have done to him. He’d have felt the woman’s pain like it was his own. Would be determined to find a way to take it away.
“I have a plan. I’ll need to meet with Mr. Drake. We don’t have much time to carry it out.”
“If there’s anything I can do to help, just tell me.”
“Just watch over Rafe for me. Has he…?”
She pushed back the temperamental lock always falling over his forehead. “Yes. He awoke this morning,” she murmured. “He faded in and out for nearly thirty minutes, Derek. A whole cup of broth.”
He let out a slow breath. “That’s good. That has to be good, right?”
She smiled, but her lips trembled. “I think so, but he’s so weak, Derek. The doctor said three to four weeks without sustenance…” A body couldn’t survive on sips of broth. But it was the best they could do for now.
His gaze went flat. “Right.”
“I’m sorry, love.” She pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.
When she pulled back, his eyes were closed, strain etched into the tightness of his features, dark shadows beneath his eyes.
The foundling home. Pennington. Rafe’s accident.
The fire. Any time they made any progress, they were thrust backward.
She’d come to London ready to wage a war. She never imagined how true that would be. They wouldn’t stop fighting though, not until they came out of this victorious. She could only pray that day would come soon.
She fluffed his cravat. It was hard to believe the world was full of such darkness. Apparently, that was what one discovered when they traveled away from their small country home. “It’s shocking Lord Wentworth would go to such lengths.”
Derek’s eyes flicked open. “I had the same thought, but today when I was discussing the arrangement, he mentioned that I’d be siring the future heir.”
Livy’s brows lifted. “A barony of writ then? That’s my father’s as well. I hadn’t known of such a thing until Papa told me recently.” She hummed. Interesting. “So, he was trying to hand-select his heir then.”
“Yes. He’s never kept it a secret that he was impressed with what I’ve done with the marquessate.
He’s a businessman. His title is old, but his wealth is new, something he earned.
That’s not something typically respected in our circles.
Because most are idiots and prize sitting on their fat arses over protecting or building their fortunes. ”
“Does his daughter know she inherits?”
“I’m not certain. But she just turned one-and-twenty, so she doesn’t need his consent any longer. I have a feeling that was why his actions have escalated. She’s fucking her footman. I think he might have found out.”
Livy’s jaw went slack. “Goodness.”
“I know. It’s completely unoriginal.”
That…wasn’t at all what she’d been thinking. She gnawed on her lip. Her mind turned over the information. This was interesting. If Miss Wentworth inherited…she had the necessary funds to build the new foundling home.
“Derek…I wonder…” Surely, they could appeal to the woman. “Miss Wentworth will be inheriting soon, yes?” She winced. What a nice way of asking if he was going to be murdering Lord Wentworth soon.
Derek’s gaze narrowed, his eyes flitting between hers. He nodded slowly. “What do you have up your sleeve, clever girl?”
“We know Lord Wentworth wasn’t open to anything but you marrying to obtain those funds.
But Miss Wentworth… Perhaps she’d be open to an alternative.
You could propose a loan with an appealing interest rate.
” Her pulse ticked up. This could work. This could be the solution.
“It’s not ideal, but with the right repayment plan, if we’re frugal in the coming years… If anything, it gives us more time.”
Derek grabbed her head and planted a bruising kiss on her lips. She squeaked, and he laughed against her lips, then pulled away. “Bloody hell, Livy. You’re so god-damned brilliant. That is something. We can work with that. I’ll discuss with Rutledge too. And, God-willing, Rafe.”
The burst of excitement that had just come over her fizzled away. “God-willing.”
Derek swallowed hard. “In the very least, we’ll see justice for him.”
Livy had no doubt Derek would.