Chapter 4 #2
She put a hand to her waist, suddenly remembering the letter that Doctor Drayford had given her. It was gone. Her stomach sank, and she prayed that Doctor Henshaw Gould would accept her word that she came from the orphanage without the letter of introduction.
“And what is that?”
“There is fever at the orphanage not far from here. I am to retrieve supplies from Bethlem Hospital, which might save lives. Which will save lives! I cannot allow a cruel and rude man to stand in my way.”
She tried once more to put weight on her ankle, and a molten lance of pain tore through her leg.
“I will write to this Earl of Sunspire. I imagine my butler is capable of divining the correct address and inform him that his daughter requires….”
“No!” Maria exclaimed.
“No?”
“I mean. It is not necessary. My father knew I was… leaving last night and will not have missed me. I would rather assure myself that the medical supplies needed at the orphanage are delivered.”
“Shall I send a maid to relieve Elsbeth, Your Grace?” Philby inquired.
“Yes. And no more interruptions,” the duke said briskly.
The words elicited no response from the elderly butler other than a grave inclination of his head. The young servant curtsied and breathed thanks before leaving the room.
“Leave the door, Philby,” the duke said as the butler backed from the room, bowing. “Let it not be said that I was shuttered away, alone with our guest.”
Maria was grateful for the light, though the duke retreated into a darker corner of the room. She could see him but not discern the details of his face. She wanted to ask him the reason for his behavior, for the darkness and his lurking in shadows, but decorum held her back.
Perhaps, it was because she had reacted in such a startled manner. Maria inwardly winced. But still, a gentleman would have understood and responded appropriately to such an outburst, doubtlessly caused in no small part due to her injury. He had not.
He watched her with sharp eyes above steepled fingers for a long, silent moment. Then the sound of footsteps along the hallway outside could be heard. A man appeared, small and with dark hair and spectacles. He looked from the duke to Maria.
“I heard voices and assumed our damsel in distress had woken.”
“She has and wishes to be on her way,” the duke said.
“Well, if I may?” he said to Maria.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Doctor Simon Hale. I was present last night when you were assaulted, and I treated you. May I?”
She watched him cautiously but nodded. He carried a leather bag and had a friendly smile. He carried out a series of perfunctory examinations, testing her ankle, looking into her eyes with a candle and having her follow a pencil that he moved from side to side.
“I think you’ll live. A sprain of the ankle, which should right itself in a few days, and a few broken blood vessels in your temple rather than a cracked skull. Head injuries always bleed considerably, but this one is not indicative of a serious wound.”
“The price of recklessness,” the duke grumbled.
“That was uncalled for!” Maria clamped her mouth shut as the words fled her lips.
The last thing she should be doing was making this man angry. But she could not let such objectionable behavior go unchallenged. The injustice of insulting her while in such a position of strength and power seemed unkind to her, which struck at the core of her sense of right and wrong.
“In my house, I will decide what is called for,” the duke growled.
That rumbling voice seemed to reverberate within Maria.
It caused her disquiet but also a frisson of excitement that she tried to stamp out.
There was something alluring about his sheer maleness.
He was a strong, intimidating man, whose very presence demanded subservience.
. She swallowed, looking at the doctor, who looked meek and frail in comparison to the powerful duke.
“Doctor Hale. There is a fever at the Willow Street orphanage. I was sent by Doctor Drayford to fetch quinine, olive wood and linen from Bedlam, I mean Bethlem Hospital. They are just little children! Will you please help me?”
“A word, Simon,” the duke said, rising abruptly.
He moved with frightening speed for such a big man, lithe and graceful despite his size.
“A moment, Damien,” Simon raised a hand. “Of course, I will help. I can go at once to fetch the supplies and then help Doctor Drayford as well as I may. The name sounds familiar to me; I may have come across him at some time.”
“Thank you,” Maria said.
Simon gave a curt nod and headed toward the door.
Maria nodded, feeling grateful and relieved that her pleas were being heard and help was on the way. The duke approached her, holding a silver-headed cane in his hands.
“You are not a prisoner. If you wish to leave, then leave. This may help you. I will have my people recover your trap if the thieves that infest this country have not stolen it.”
The corners of his mouth twitched, the closest thing she had seen to a smile.
“Are you afraid?”
The question came so suddenly that it took her by surprise.
“Should I be?” she said, lifting her chin and accepting the cane, “Just because you are clearly trying to frighten me?”
“You are in the home of the infamous Phantom. You were attacked by villains last night, and they will now be telling the tale of the young woman abducted by the Phantom of Winterleigh.”
Maria licked her lips. She found herself lulled by his mellifluous voice, not wanting to talk over him because she wanted every word, every syllable, to wash over her.
I must gain some measure of control. He is just a man. Not a wizard or spirit. And I am not a swooning debutante to be rendered weak-kneed by a strong voice and a broad chest.
Forcing a calm tone, she said, “I am not afraid because you saved my life. And you are clearly not a… phantom.”
“Am I not? How well you know me in such a short space of time.”
He was mocking her, and the anger it inflamed within her overrode common sense and fear both. As he turned for the door, she stabbed the cane into the bare boards of the floor and got to her feet.
“I know you well enough to know you are a brute and a bully,” she said.
The duke whirled to face her. The portion of his face that was visible was contorted by rage.
“Do you know the severity of your situation?” he hissed.
“Three men saw you taken by the Phantom. Word will have reached your Doctor Drayford by now, I’m sure.
How long before your name and mine are linked in scandal and intrigue?
It means nothing to me, but what will it mean to your father? To you?”
She had not considered that but had to concede that he had a point.
A woman must protect her reputation. A man can be a rogue and wear it as a badge of honor. For a woman, it would be a millstone around her neck. And I am already cast out by my wretched father.
“That is a worrying prospect. I will not deny it.” Maria sighed deeply. “And an unjust one. I did nothing except try to help ailing children.”
“And in so doing, you transgressed the norms of your society. That is not how a lady is supposed to behave, is it?” the duke replied.
“I am an uncommon lady.”
“Agreed.”
There was something in that single word that silenced Maria. She found her eyes locked on the duke’s.
What is he hiding behind that mask?
“The scenario you described is a dire one. I must leave now to prevent it from coming to pass.”
She leaned on the stick and took a hesitant step. It was painful, but she could nearly support her own weight with the aid of the cane.
“It has already come to pass. There is only one way that you might avoid scandal,” the duke said.
She had reached the door. Pale daylight bathed her. Through a window opposite she could see a garden that was hardly worthy of the name. Vegetation ran amuck, contained within tall, dark walls. The spires of stone and smoke that were London were visible beyond that wall. The living world.
She looked back, wobbling on the stick. The duke stood just beyond the shaft of light. From the half of his face that was visible, she could tell that he was handsome, but it was a beauty steeped in a coldness that would make a mountain top seem balmy. He was granite encased in ice.
He resembles a buccaneer from the Spanish Main. A cutlass at his belt and a knife between his teeth would complete the image.
“And what is that?” she asked.
“Marriage.”
The notion was so absurd that Maria laughed, the sound exploding from her.
“I beg your pardon?”
The duke stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as the light fell upon him.
Maria stared into his eyes, attracted and fearful at the same time.
Perhaps he is a sorcerer.
“It will spare your name and civilize mine by association. And, as my wife, you can be a far more effective patron of your orphanage than you can as the daughter of an earl.”
“There is only one answer I can give,” Maria whispered, her voice quieting as he closed the distance. So near that she felt his breath on her neck, making her spine tingle.
There was a quality about him that made her do that. Her knees trembled at his nearness, and her stomach clenched. She could feel the fluttering of her pulse in the hollow of her throat, and a warmth seemed to emanate from the depths of her womanhood.
She took a deep breath, refusing to let him see her gasp.
He was closer, his eyes magnetic. His entire body drew her as though some primitive and arcane enchantment was at work.
Her awareness of the house and the other person present faded away.
They might have stood in a black void, alone in an infinity of shadows.
As she looked up at him, the thought entered her mind that it would be very easy for him to steal a kiss.
That she wanted him to do it. She licked her lips before she knew what she was doing, feeling as though she were sleepwalking.
Her lips parted, and her body cried out for that powerful, undeniable force before her to claim her for his own.
“I thank you for your aid,” she managed to say, “both for myself and the Willow Street Orphanage. And for the compliment of your offer. I must decline. I hope you understand.”
The duke did not look away. He stepped closer again. She could smell him. A hint of spice tempered with wood and tobacco. A musk that was far from unpleasant and made her think of wilderness and tempests.
“I do,” he said. “I wish you luck. Your society can be cruel.”