Chapter 16 #2
“You did well,” Dorian nodded. “I can work with that. Masterful touch by the way, to make it look as if you were lost.”
“And you said those novels were for ninnies,” she smiled teasingly. “It is not all woe-is-me between those covers, my love. There is mysticism, mystery, and a variety of sleuths.”
Dorian sat back and drummed his fingertips on the windowsill. “That does seem like a place he would hide things he does not want found. The question is, how do I get in there and uncover it?”
“Maybe you do not have to,” she said. “I can do—”
“No,” his words brook no argument. “It is already enough that you did this for me. I will not put you in direct harm’s way this time. The man is dangerous, unpredictable, and he’s found you in his study.
“I know he’s already suspicious, and if he finds you again, he will consider punishing you to get to me. I will not allow that,” Dorian reasoned.
The shadows in the carriage made him look dangerous as he flashed in and out of the light. Even so, she felt safer here with him than she could imagine anyone else.
Despite the lazy way he slouched back into his carriage seat and the heavy-lidded stare that saw everything, she still recalled the warmth in his eyes when they had danced earlier. She recalled in vivid detail the consideration in his visage.
“I want to see Victoria,” she abruptly said.
His head snapped to her at the sudden change in topic. “Why?”
Ellie’s shoulders wilted. Her tone grew exasperated. “Because she is my bosom friend, that is why.”
“Evelina—”
“If you’d prefer, we can go to Hyde Park or a tea house,” she offered. “It will be in public, and you can send the whole cadre of the Bow Street Runners with me if you want, but I want to see my friend.”
To her amusement, his lips twitched. “Are you giving me an ultimatum, my Duchess?”
She cocked her head. “I do not recall adding or else in that sentence.”
“You might as well have,” he chuckled. “But I understand this is you putting your foot down. I don’t think it made much sense to ask me, because if I had said no, you would have gone anyway.”
“I would have.”
“So go,” he granted. “Go to her home and spend the whole afternoon if you’d like.”
Her lips parted in shock. A moment later, she shook her head in disbelief. “And tell me why my husband is so generous of late?”
“Why would I not be?” he asked. “You did very well tonight.”
Her lips pursed. “Can you say that without making it feel as if it’s a reward?”
Chuckling, he continued, “It is not a reward. It is a virtue of me trusting you to hold your own, but I still…” He reached for a box under his seat and pulled it out. Opening it, he revealed a small pearl-pistol and handed it to her.
“Keep this on your person at all times. Even if you do not know how to shoot it, pointing it at an assailant will make them think twice,” Dorian handed her the gun.
She turned the gun over in her hand; her fingertips skimmed over the cool handle. She peeked up. “One day, I need you to teach me how...”
His grin was rakish. “It will be my pleasure.”
“Your Grace,” Victoria’s butler bowed. “Welcome. Her ladyship is in the blue drawing room. May I take you there?”
“Please,” Ellie said as she pulled her Spencer Jacket away. Then, she nervously brushed down the tiered skirts of her olive sprigged muslin walking dress— another addition to her wardrobe, from the modiste.
Her friend was curled up in the nook of a loveseat, with a book on her lap. She didn’t look up. “Nothing for me, Stevens.”
Ellie sucked in a breath. “It’s me.”
The book hit the ground as Victoria launched herself up, the tails of her lilac dress billowing behind her. Ellie then found herself wrapped in the tightest, all-consuming embrace of her life.
“Ellie—!” Victoria’s disbelief was palpable, “Are you really here?”
“I am,” Ellie pulled away. “I am sorry for staying away for so long.”
The doubt did not fade from her friend’s eyes as she uttered, “The chapel, I—I—I-”
“You did the best you could, Victoria,” Ellie maneuvered them down to the couch and toed the book away with her half-boot. “It only happens that someone else did something better.”
She didn’t look amused. “That Duke? How—how did he do anything better than I did?”
“He knew something about my relatives that I did not know,” Ellie said. “Unfortunately, my aunt and uncle only groomed me so I could elevate them into the ton—a status my aunt so keenly craves.”
Shivering in repulsion, Victoria murmured, “I always felt there was something off about that woman. She was never motherly, never kind. Always pushing you to perfect your Latin or French, yet having you shadow Harriet when you reached of age.”
“Have you seen my aunt as of late?” Ellie asked suddenly. “In balls or parties?”
Victoria’s face twisted. “How on earth do you think I can enjoy myself with you vanishing? I’ve been sick with worry, Ellie! You vanished for two weeks and then suddenly appeared at your wedding. And after that, you were gone too. I did not eat for days, Ellie. I was that worried.”
Heartened, Ellie reached out and held her friend's hands, they were cold to the touch. “I am here now. You do not have to worry for me anymore.”
Shaking her head, Victoria said, “That is not how friendships work, Ellie. I’ll always worry for you. What is that man like?”
Biting her lip, Ellie considered the question. “Can we have some tea before I answer that?”
“Of course!” Victoria rang for the beverage. When she sat again, she said, “I do not think you know, but no one knows anything about Duke Wolfthorne.”
Ellie’s brow lifted. “Nothing?”
“Not one thing,” Victoria shook her head.
“There are no records of him anywhere, not Eton, not Oxford, not Cambridge, or anywhere. No lady in Town has said anything about having an affair or being courted by him, no one knows his family. It is as if he is a ghost, Ellie. That is another reason I worried for you.”
While the maid set the trays on the coffee table, Ellie took a moment to look around the elegant cameo blue drawing room. She poured a cup of tea from the round china pot, then took a sip. Warmth flooded her body, and some of the tension that had invaded her limbs eased.
Setting the cup on the table, she began, “Dorian has had a very… unfortunate past.”
A notch appeared between Victoria’s brows. “Whatever do you mean?”
To gather herself, Ellie sipped more tea. “Did you check Debrett’s? I am sure a record of his lineage is there.”
“You are beating around the bush…” Victoria pressed.
Ellie told her dearest friend all she knew about Dorian’s family—keeping the issue of finding his uncle close to her chest—and how, after they were cast out, he ended up in the stews.
“Oh… dear,” Victoria rubbed her chest. “That is troubling…”
“But he managed to pull himself back onto the right path,” Ellie said, feeling oddly proud. “He owns a thriving business, and he worked hard enough to regain his family’s properties.”
“That is indeed admirable,” Victoria echoed, reaching for a slice of orange cake.
“…It is,” Ellie agreed, but her tone was the opposite of happy, and it drew Victoria’s attention.
Her friend waited for almost five minutes—the ticks of the ormolu clock on the mantle sounded as loud as roman candles as the moments went by.
“Good heavens, what is plaguing you?” Victoria’s voice snapped Ellie back. “Clearly, something is amiss, and I know you know that you can confide in me, so why are you not? What are you not telling me?”