clothing gave her pause. It was not cheap, by any means. The nankeen trousers were obviously tailor-made for his form. The linen shirt, though wrinkled, was, also. Over that he wore a long open robe of cut velvet that must have come dear, though it was old and somewhat out of style.
She noted his feet were bare. Long, narrow and pale, they imparted just a note of vulnerability that made him seem human.
He now leaned against the front of the scarred old desk, arms folded over his massive chest, ankles crossed, and waited for her confession. “Well?”
Lily cleared her throat and sat forward, hands clasped on her knees. She looked up at him, feeling like a penitent and hating it. “I must throw myself upon your mercy, my lord, and hope that you will afford me protection.”
He raised one eyebrow and quirked his head as if to encourage her to go on. Not so much as a flicker of sympathy.
She sighed, looked down at the faded carpet, glanced at his feet again, then back at the fearsome countenance. “I am Baroness Bradshaw.” She hesitated, waiting for him to challenge her claim. When he did not, she continued. “I believe my husband’s younger brother drugged me yesterday—or perhaps the day previous…What day is this?”
“Saturday,” he replied succinctly.
“Yesterday, then. I had been riding, came into my library and was offered a glass of wine. I only drank half. The next thing I knew, I awakened, locked in a cell in Bedlam. Of course, I didn’t know that until I escaped, but—”
He smiled slightly and bit his bottom lip, but still did not comment. Now both eyebrows rose in a silent question.
“After I awoke, I overheard two men conversing outside the door. When one left and the other entered, I knocked him on the head with the heel of my riding boot, dosed him with the vial of whatever he meant for me. These.” She reached into a pocket and produced the two small bottles. “Then I escaped in his clothes.” She looked down at her attire and back at him.
He glanced away from her, shook his head and chuckled.
Lily jumped up, tears springing to her eyes. “How dare you laugh!”
Suddenly as that, he sobered, unfolding his arms and resting his hands on his hips. “You may tell whatever jokester sent you that I am no fool. This has been a colossal waste of my time as well as yours.”
“No one sent me!”
“Then I cannot imagine why you are here concocting this elaborate ruse. I happen to know that Bradshaw died of heart failure two years ago. Now I’ll have the truth from you, or else.”
Exasperated, Lily clenched her eyes, wrung her hands and heaved a sigh. “I am Jonathan’s widow. Mother to Beaumont, the current Lord Bradshaw.”
“Ah,” Duquesne said with a scoff. “You must not be aware I once met the person John Bradshaw wed and she most assuredly is not you.”
“You knew my father, Vicar Upchurch. Surely you recall his daughter marrying above her station eight years ago? It was the news of the county at the time. Even here in Town, tongues were wagging, I expect.”
He bent, examining her features. Muttering an epithet, he shook his head, snatched up her right arm and roughly pushed up her sleeve. “We’ll see if that’s so,” he snapped, holding her arm to the light. The jagged scar in the middle of her forearm shone white in the glare of the flame.
At once, his features clouded with confusion and his eyes met hers. “But…but the child I saw was—”
“Skinny is the word you must be seeking,” Lily snapped. “Skinny and short for my age. I so regret I do not clearly recall our meeting, my lord. I’m certain we would have gotten on famously.”
But she did remember that tall, gangly youth with the kind eyes and a frown of concern for her pain. A fellow more than willing to rescue a child. He had barked orders at her father, whom no one ever dared to command. Then he had lifted her in his strong arms and carried her, murmuring comforting things near her ear. She dearly hoped a vestige of that kindness and willingness to help remained.
He grimaced, his gaze casting about as if searching for details of the incident. “The vicar interrupted my afternoon on the green and commandeered my phaeton to rush you to Dr. Ephriam. You had fallen from a tree and broken your arm. The bone was…never mind.” Again, he peered down at her scar. “A poor job he made of the repair. Did it heal without incident?”
Lily jerked her arm away and tugged down the fabric to hide the scar. “So you believe me now?”
He gently smoothed her sleeve with his palm and nodded, his lips pressed together as if pained at having sought proof of her identity. “Yes. I believe you are who you claim to be.”
“Then will you help me? My son could be in danger. If you would but furnish me a mount to ride home, I would be most grateful.”
“In danger? Why?”
She rolled her eyes, exasperated. “Because my child is the only thing standing between Jonathan’s brother and the title, of course.”
“The boy is now at Sylvana Hall?”
Lily pressed her fingers to her lips for a moment before answering. “In the care of his nurse…I hope.” She fought tears and managed to keep them from falling. God above, how frightened she was for Beau.
Again, Duquesne raised his hand, this time giving her shoulder a bracing squeeze of reassurance. “I’ll make arrangements immediately. Have a spot of that brandy while you wait.”
“I’ll come with you,” she declared.
Duquesne shook his head and offered her a smile. “Please, trust me… I’m sorry, but I cannot recall your name.”
For a long moment she studied his eyes. They were clear, a clear, gentle gray now, their expression beseeching and somewhat regretful. She also noted a lack of deceit. “I am Lillian,” she replied.
His smile widened, perfectly open and guileless, the smile of a friend happily reunited with a friend. “Lily, of course. Your father called you Lily.”
And just like that, he was gone. Out the door with all speed, bound for she knew not where. Perhaps to summon the Watch or to send word to Clive to come here and collect her. But Lily thought not.
That was not quite true. She knew not. Duquesne would have said outright that that was what he intended if he’d meant to turn her over. Somehow, Lily felt she could afford to put her life in his hands. How strange for her to trust on such short acquaintance when she had been betrayed the way she had.
But Lily saw something in Duquesne that touched her. He was so alone and yet not bitter about it. There was also a wariness about him with regard to her, and she realized it was due to instant attraction. Though she knew she was not a great beauty, Lily was no fool.
He attracted her, too, in a very physical way. Allowed to progress, Lily knew that would seriously complicate matters. She would never trade her body for a man’s assistance.
Or would she? No, that sort of dishonorable arrangement would never do.
But
