Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
William strode into the woman’s shelter the next day, wanting to ensure Miss Linton had enough funds to see them through the coming weeks.
He walked past several women who were being assisted by the ladies who worked there, and while he wished them good morning, he ignored the blatant interest his presence raised in some, and the fear in others.
He moved through the shelter before he knocked on Miss Linton’s office door, and, hearing the agreement to enter, strode in and skidded to a stop.
Instead of Miss Linton, Lady Clementine sat on a chair near the window.
Her hair shone in the morning light, and she looked as pretty as the night before, even though her attire was much different than the silk empire-style gown she’d worn at the Cecil ball.
A tattered piece of linen sat in her lap, a needle in hand as if she were attempting to repair the article for someone. “What are you doing in here?” He regretted his abrupt and accusatory words the moment they left his mouth.
The enjoyment he’d seen on her features just a moment before vanished at his question and presence.
“I’m mending a dress, if you’re too blind to see, and I was given leave to use this office by Miss Linton, who has stepped out for an hour or so.
Something came up at home, and she asked me to wait here until she returns.
Not that I owe you an explanation at all. I’m free to do as I please.”
“I highly doubt Ravensmere would agree with that admission,” he mumbled, placing several pounds in the top drawer of Miss Linton’s desk and a missive detailing the food parcels he was having delivered throughout the week.
“I beg your pardon, Lord William, but you don’t get to mumble anything impolite to me.
As long as I attend the events of the ton, I’m free to help here.
I would think a man of your ilk, who seems very invested in The Haven, would be happy that I’m helping.
I do not understand why you’re so rude to me. ”
Her words shamed him, and he schooled his features, not entirely sure himself why or how they started out on the wrong foot. All he could say for certain was that the moment he’d seen Lady Clementine, she’d irritated him, her presence had displeased him, and yet he could not explain it.
No, perhaps that was a lie. He could. She had an air about her of well-to-do, a woman of substance, and without even knowing her name, he’d been aware of what type of family she hailed from, the type of privilege she’d enjoyed, and he’d punished her for it.
“We merely do not get along,” he lied. “That is the truth of the matter. It is no one’s fault. Sometimes people are not meant to be friends.”
The office door slammed closed and locked. The muffled sound of women giggling caught his attention, and he strode over to the door and tried the handle.
Locked.
“Open this door at once,” he bellowed to whoever thought it amusing to lock him in an office, unchaperoned with an unmarried debutante. A duke’s daughter, for that matter. He closed his eyes and prayed for sanity. “Let us out, and we shall not say another word on the matter.”
More laughter. “Sorry, Mr. Beaufort, but we thought you needed a little company this evening. You’ve been so uptight we thought you may need to take a seat and get a load off…”
He ground his teeth and glared at the wood, not willing to look back at Lady Clementine and see her reaction to those words. He didn’t particularly wish to explain the hidden meaning behind them, either, if she asked.
Dear God, save him from this scandal waiting to happen.
“What load do you need to get off?” Lady Clementine asked from behind him.
He cringed, ignoring the renewed laughter that came from behind the door. He banged on it again, harder this time. “Open the door this instant.” He waited for a response, anything to say the young women would do as he ordered, but there was nothing. No response, no unlocking the door.
They were stuck.
In a room.
Alone.
He strode to the window, ignoring the growing fear that churned in his stomach.
He looked out at the street below, judging the height to see if he could risk jumping out.
But with the elevation of the building, the ground floor was almost at second-floor height, and he would break his leg, or worse, his neck, if he tried.
Damn it.
“So we’re locked in here together, is that what’s happening?” Lady Clementine asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
He ignored how the action raised her breasts, even in the modest gown she wore.
Or that the skin above her bodice was particularly unblemished, perfect, and flawless.
The infuriating woman obviously ordered her staff to carry buckets of water up to her room daily just so she could bathe. What a horribly spoiled brat.
She would taste as sweet as a new blossoming flower.
“It seems to be the case.” He walked behind the desk and sat, wanting to put five feet of pine between them just in case the door did unlock, and they were found alone.
Which, of course, they would be, but if he could limit the rumourmongering and keep this unfortunate situation between those here, their lives would be much better for it.
Lady Clementine strode to the door and tried it herself, banging and yelling out to anyone who might hear them, but nothing but silence greeted them. She turned and faced him.
“Why would they lock us up alone?” Her gaze moved about the room, her mind clearly trying to think and plan. “I’m unmarried and a debutante. If I’m caught in here with you, I’ll be forced to marry you, and that will never do.”
William leaned back in the chair, unsure why her words irked his pride. He didn’t want to marry her any more than she wished to marry him, so her outburst was warranted and true.
Still…
“Some of the ladies who come through The Haven have mischievous motives. I should imagine they would find it comical should I be forced to marry you. Which, I must point out, will not be the case. I shall not enter matrimony, not unless I wish it, so you can be sure your virtue is safe with me, and I can guarantee that our being here will be kept strictly confidential. When we’re released, of course. ”
Lady Clementine returned to her chair near the window, but didn’t pick up her sewing. Instead, her attention moved toward the clock on the mantel. “I’m to leave in an hour. I have to attend the Rolfe ball this evening. It’s being held in Hyde Park.”
Ah, yes, the Duke and Duchess Rolfe were hosting and using their privileged friendship with the king to gain access to the park at night. Not that people did not stroll through the grounds after dusk, but to host a ball there was another matter altogether.
Security alone would have cost a small fortune to keep the abrahamers, cyprians, and those who were uninvited away.
Still, it was all anyone was talking about, and it seemed even Lady Clementine wished to attend.
Silly little sheep that they all were, following what the ton deemed appropriate.
“I’m certain Miss Linton will be back before the hour, and all will be well.
You can leave, and I shall return to my club, and we’ll forget this matter entirely. ”
“Hmm.” Lady Clementine bit her bottom lip, and William averted his gaze to the paperwork on the desk.
He read a few notes, recipes, paid-bill receipts, and little notes for work that needed to be accomplished before he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.
Anything but to look out and see Lady Clementine gnaw on her lip.
How long she would remain quiet and composed was anyone’s guess.
He could only hope Miss Linton would be back sooner rather than later, so he could get the hell out of here.
“My family will come looking for me if I’m late getting home. What if they come here and find us alone?”
The thought made his stomach lurch. “Do not fret. Miss Linton will be back soon, or another member of staff with a sliver of brain cells will let us out, I’m sure of it.
All will be well.” He wanted to reassure, and yet, part of him wavered with panic.
What if Ravensmere did come here and found them alone?
Would the duke see reason? Would he see sense?
He looked at Lady Clementine. Her dark hair, perfect nose, and kissable lips reminded him of her eldest sister, the duchess. Of all the siblings, they most resembled each other. She was a highly attractive woman, so to be forced to marry her wouldn’t be the worst outcome in his life.
Still…
It would be for her. She would be one of the unhappiest brides in London.
Not to mention, he wasn’t the marrying kind.
He enjoyed his freedom. His club. The autonomy to live above his establishment in the small rooms that lined the attic.
His office is but a door or so away. Of not having to open up his London home or live with his brother.
“I should imagine if we were made to marry, your interest in my brother would cease?” He swallowed, wondering why he was asking such questions. “How sad that would make you.”
She frowned, and he had to admire how she did not shy away from showing her annoyance toward him. Not that he could stop baiting her.
“I believe you’ve been spending too much time at your club, my lord. You seem to have forgotten the rules that govern our shared society. One, namely, that you ought not ask impertinent questions that do not signify your input.”
The thought of Lady Clementine married to Phillip made his blood run cold.
If she were unhappy with him, she would be ten times worse with his brother.
As sweet and accommodating as his sibling was toward Lady Clementine, it was all a facade.
Soon, he would show his true self, and then she would be left broken and alone in their union.