“Is that self-choice what also had you wandering my halls and invading my office?”
She blinked, and he reveled in at last knocking her from the perch of control over this discourse. “I already told you…”
“Yes, you were unable to sleep.” William dropped his elbows atop his knees and leaned forward. “What gives a young lady such as yourself nightmares?”
Her cheeks drained of color. “I never said anything about nightmares.”
“What else would keep a person from peaceful sleep?” he persisted, arching an eyebrow.
She glanced down at her hands, and given his height advantage over her, he was afforded an unrestricted view of his nighttime visitor. Elsie clenched her hands together so tightly that her knuckles went as white as her modest wrapper and nightshift.
He waited, allowing her the time. It was a small concession that put her back in a place of power so that she might continue.
The young woman drew in a noisy breath through her teeth and nodded once, as if seeking to assure herself. She picked her head up. “I will tell you,” she said quietly, her once-lyrical tones now haunting and eerie for their emptiness. A chill scraped through his insides. He leaned forward. “If you are willing to also share yours,” she added.
She wanted… She thought… He scoffed. “You expect me to freely reveal my circumstances to you, a stranger?”
“No,” she corrected. “That is what you expect, William. I expect we should come to know one another first, without any expectations or demands placed.” Elsie pushed back her chair. “I’ll not be interrogated. I’m not a criminal. I’m not a member of your ranks.” He stiffened. She knew of the Brethren. “I know enough,” she confirmed, unerringly following his musings. “I’m not a young woman. I’m not a spy. I’m nearly thirty-one years old. A healer of animals who joined your brother to see if I can provide a like assistance to you. Now, instead of playing these… games, where you seek to outmaneuver me, I suggest you choose honesty and trust.”
With that, the young woman swept from the room, her dog at her side, and left William staring at the door long after she’d gone.
Chapter 7
“I promised we’d come back, and we have.”
The following afternoon, Elsie availed herself of the duke’s grounds and cared for his long-neglected gardens.
Bear whimpered.
“That isn’t what this is about, then,” she muttered.
He barked once, the deep rumble sending several finches scattering from their various perches throughout the gardens.
Elsie got to the heart of the matter with her canine companion. “Last evening,” she went on, “was peculiar.”
Bear whined.
“Oh, hush,” Elsie chided, snipping back an overgrown mint bush. “Surely you knew we’d eventually talk about it. The situation was peculiar.” A breeze gusted through the grounds, stirring errant leaves that had not been tended in too long. She paused in her task and gave Bear a pointed look. “You do not take to anyone like that.”
The dog wiggled back and forth on his belly and bowed his head between his front paws as he shuffled toward her across the threadbare grass.
“I’m not looking for apologies,” she clarified. She was looking to understand. Bear’s loyalty was, and always had been, first and foremost to Elsie. Since he’d been a pup, the dog had never ignored her, and he’d certainly never rushed headlong into possible peril, with her chasing after.
She sat back on her haunches. “You knew I was safe,” she murmured, her gaze on the ivy climbing along the aged brick at the back wall. He’d sensed she wouldn’t be harmed. Or mayhap, more… He’d sensed William needed him more in that instant. Her nape tingled, and she straightened. Someone watched her even now. Undoubtedly, there was any number of people it could be in this particular residence, but an innate knowing said that stare belonged to him. From under the wide brim of the straw hat that had once belonged to her mother, Elsie stole a peek at William’s townhouse.
Since Lord Edward had entered her cottage with talks of his brother, Elsie had been gripped by wonderings about the gentleman. What had previously been a detached interest had shifted the moment she’d entered his chambers. His lean frame revealed evidence of a physical struggle, but the haunted glint in his eyes, a glimmer she suspected the gentleman himself did not know he possessed, had pierced her, ushering forth questions. About him. His past. And the demons that kept him from leaving his townhouse or resuming whatever role he served with the organization Elsie so hated.
Only, where her father’s patients had eyed her presence at their bedside with skepticism, and insisted upon only Francis Allenby’s care, the duke hadn’t even flinched at the prospect of her overseeing his healing.
A wry grin played at her lips. Rather, he’d chafed at the idea of needing anyone—her included.
Elsie’s smile slipped. For even with that, in the end, he’d still insisted she remain. He’d turned his care over to her.
Bear’s hackles went up.
Tugging free her hat, Elsie wiped the back of her arm over her damp brow.
She had company.
From behind her, the faint crunch of gravel hinted at his approach, the footfall too heavy to belong to a child or woman and assured enough to hint at his power.
Elsie’s fingers tightened about her rusted pruning shears. There had been other men with heavy footfalls. Ones who had charged after her as she’d bolted through Bladon. Angry shouts had dogged her steps, from a pair determined to silence her.
“What are you doing, Miss Allenby?”
Lord Edward’s terse greeting was not one born of anger but proved safer. For it… he was real, and there was nothing he nor anyone could take from her.
“I think it should be fairly obvious, Lord Edward.” Elsie clipped back the lilac tree, and the soft purple flowers rained to the ground. One of the buds hit Bear on the tail, and he snapped his head up. “I am seeing to your brother’s gardens.” She’d originally set out to assess and avail herself of the herbs present, but the neglect of this space had called for more.
Lord Edward yanked his hat off, slapping it against his leg as he went. “I’ve not brought you here to garden,” he said tightly, stopping so close that Bear ambled onto all fours and inserted himself between Elsie and the irate gentleman.
“It is fine,” she promised, snapping her fingers three times.
Bear trotted past Lord Edward and found a spot on a softer patch of earth. All the while, his large ears remained perked, on alert. As soon as he’d settled, Elsie returned her attentions to the overgrown bush. She cut the front portion of the flowering shrub, the rusty clip of her scissors inordinately loud.
The moment one relinquished all control to these men, the moment they pounced… and won.
“I believe I was clear in what role you’d serve here,” William’s brother snapped. “And this, madam?” He slashed his black top hat around the grounds. “Was not among your responsibilities.”
Elsie made a show of cleaning the pruning shears along the front of her apron and then set them back in the small basket next to her. She stood and finally faced Lord Edward.
His frown deepened. “Do you have nothing to say?”
“You have your men spying on me,” she noted with false casualness. She’d been naïve before. She was not so much a fool that she wasn’t aware precisely the company she now kept.
Lord Edward drew back, aghast.
“Was that not what you expected me to say, Lord Edward?” she drawled, dusting her muddied palms together.
His cheeks turned a mottled red. “No, it is not.”
“Ah.” She stretched that single syllable out. “Very well, then.” Elsie rested her hands upon her stained apron.
Lord Edward frowned. “What are you on about?”
“Well, it is just that… the same way you’ve determined where I should spend my time here, perhaps you’d care to instead tell me what you also expect me to say in this i
nstance.”
His flush deepened. “I’m not amused by you, Miss Allenby.”
“I didn’t seek to amuse you.”
The gentleman continued speaking over her. “I expected you to give me a full reporting on my brother’s condition and a determination of what treatment you might provide and his prognosis of recovering.”
In less than a day’s time? A soft laugh escaped her.
Lord Edward’s eyebrows snapped together. “Have I said something to amuse you?”
She’d be a fool to bait anyone who managed that lethal whisper. And yet, she didn’t seek to get a rise out of him.
“You’ve unreal expectations for me… and of me. I’ve been here just a day. In that time, I’ve met your brother but once.”
“It should have been more.”
Elsie folded her arms at her chest. “And do you trust the duke would have allowed me unfettered access to both him and his time? Furthermore,” she continued before he could speak. “If that is the erroneous judgment you have of His Grace, then I suggest you leave the handling of his care in its entirety”—she touched a hand to her chest—“to me.”
His eyelid ticked. “I expect a report on his condition by tomorrow evening, Miss Allenby.”
With that, he jammed his hat atop his head and stalked off.
Elsie stared after him, carefully following his retreating form with her eyes until he’d gone. At another time, she might have become indignant at Lord Edward’s presumptions. As a younger woman helping her father care for countless number of wounded villagers and men with the Home Office, she’d bristled on his and her own behalf at such audacity. That, however, had been before. After her father’s death, she’d learned what desperation was and the many layers of that bleak sentiment.
As such, she saw it in both men: the hurt, angry duke and his brother, determined to see him rid of pain.
That familial bond made her patient real in ways she didn’t want him to be. It was far safer and easier to see him as the icy, indifferent member of the Brethren, who didn’t give a jot about anything or anyone outside their ranks.
Her nape tingled once more.
Elsie glanced up, casting a hand over her eyes to blot out the glaring afternoon sun. This time, she stared boldly up at the duke’s chambers, searching for a glimpse of him, knowing a man in his role would be skilled enough to hide himself in plain sight, if he so wished.
Bear licked her fingers.
She glanced down at her dog and favored him with a loving stroke. “Well, that went a good deal better than I’d expected,” she said dryly. “Now, shall we continue our work?”
Dropping to her knees, she fetched her pruning shears once more and carried on with her earlier work.
*
No one had set foot in the gardens since his wife died.
Nor had there been any attempt from his servants to do so. Those in his household understood those grounds had belonged to Adeline. When William had awakened in these very chambers after two months of unconsciousness and learned all over again of his wife’s murder, he’d found those once-cherished gardens in disarray.
Mayhap it had been unspoken agreement… or perhaps it had been an order.
Either way, no one entered that sacrosanct space.
Until now.
Now, there had been two.
William studied the door his brother had made an angry exit through and dismissed it… and him and instead fixed on the figure who’d commanded his attention that morning and afternoon.
Elsie, her attention trained on a wild lilac bush, reached for one of the aged tools laid out. But first, her fingers found that ugly mutt, stroking his head with a loving affection. Then she brought her arms up to snip back the branches that had grown so long they’d formed an arch overhanging the stone walkway.
Where was the rage at this stranger, this interloper, being in that most sacred of places?
Because you are intrigued by the minx. You don’t know what to make of this person who slipped into your household like one who had a right to it. A woman who also thinks nothing of sullying her hands.
His late wife… she had never herself sat upon the earth and overtaken the care of that place. She’d hired masterful gardeners, whom she’d cheerfully greeted each morning, asking after their plans, discussing her own ideas for the gardens.
On the occasion the urns had required fresh flowers, she’d snipped them and placed them into a basket held by a waiting servant.
Not for the first time, Elsie paused to cast some words over at the slumbering dog beside her. He rubbed a palm contemplatively over his mouth, tapping his finger against his bearded cheek.
Mayhap she was mad. That would certainly explain all her eccentricities. It was after all so very easy for one to confuse stupidity with courage, and she’d been nothing if not inordinately brave since she’d entered his rooms.
He furrowed his brow. What point had the minx been debating with his brother? By Edward’s flushed cheeks and angry gait, William would wager she’d come out the victor.
Direct. Undaunted. Fearless. She embodied everything ladies of the peerage were not. Including Adeline. He’d fallen in love with her for the air of gentility to her. It had been a breath of fresh air for one whose very nature of work required him to immerse himself in darkness. And this… admiring Elsie Allenby, finding himself spellbound, felt like a betrayal to his late wife’s memory.
William squeezed his eyes shut. He was a bastard. There was no other accounting for this fascination with the woman who’d first invaded his home and now Adeline’s gardens.
He opened his eyes and froze.
Elsie had moved to tend another bush, this one an explosion of wildly overgrown pale pink roses.
A curse ripped from his chest, and with a thundering shout of fury, William stormed from the rooms in his stockinged feet.
The handful of Brethren guards, acting now as servants, widened their eyes as he sprinted past them, sans jacket, his tangled black hair whipping like a lion’s mane about his scruffy cheeks.
They think me mad…
Good, then perhaps the king would at least free William of his responsibilities. Enlivened with every angry step that brought him closer to the damned interloper, William lengthened his stride. At last, he was filled with a suitable outrage for this woman his brother had thrust into William’s household.
How dare she?
He panted, his chest heaving from the exertion of storming through his own household, hating himself for that weakness. Hating Elsie Allenby for forcing him to see just how weak he’d become.
William stumbled to a stop, catching himself hard against the doorjamb of the outdoor gardens. Yanking the door open, he recoiled.
Sunlight blared bright into the dimly lit halls, momentarily blinding him. He brought his arms protectively about his face, shielding himself from the offense.
Pinpricks of tiny spherical light danced behind his eyes, and he jammed his palms into the sockets. The dots continued to dance and float there.
Panic set in, holding him in its cruel snare, a vulnerability that came from his weakened state and the knowledge of what fate awaited those whose guard came down.
“It is better if you relax.” Elsie’s soothing, singsong tone ripped across his tumult.
William forced his arms back down to his sides and fought to adjust to the sunlight.
Squinting, he did a sweep and found her precisely where he’d last spied her… snipping at that pink rosebush.
Clip.
“Your eyes, that is,” Elsie clarified. “If you attain relaxation, the need for squinting will lessen. If you continue to squint, it will only strain your eyes.”
He rocked back. Attain relaxation. What in blazes did that even mean?
She paused in her pruning and brushed the back of her forearm across her perspiring brow. “You’ll have to find out what that means for you,” she murmured, following with an unerring accuracy his very thoughts.
&n
bsp; Further entranced by the lyrical pull of her voice, William squinted and then immediately tried to calm those muscles. “How does a woman come to be skilled in matters pertaining to vision?” he barked. With every meeting, the questions about this woman surpassed any answers he received about her.
Under the brim of a heinous bonnet, her eyes sparkled. “I trust the same way any man does. Through observation of one’s eyesight on sunlit days.”
He frowned.
Elsie matched that with an answering smile, that dimpled her sun-kissed cheeks in an expression of such pure warmth it tore up his earlier anger and reason for being here. “I would recommend you gradually become accustomed to the sunlight by being outdoors more than you have been.” With that pronouncement, she angled her body dismissively and clipped another branch.
Pink rose petals rained down about her like teardrops.
William… I c-cannot… I l-love…
He squeezed his eyes shut as guilt battered at him. Adeline had rasped those disjointed, gurgling words while he lay there beside her, able to move only his head, before it had all faded to black—that day, her life, his existence.
“Are you all right, William?” The sound of his name on the spitfire’s lips pierced the horrors, her query somber and concerned, when it was safer for him if she were her challenging, vexing self.
He forced his eyes open. “Release yours scissors, madam,” he thundered, gnashing his teeth before he realized what he’d done. Agony shot up William’s temples, and he gasped.
The young woman paused, then clipped the branch caught in her long fingers. A branch of soft pink roses fluttered to the ground at her booted feet.
That ugly, enormous dog that was more bear than pup lurched up and ambled over to William.
And that was another thing.
“I don’t want your damned dog in my house.”
The dog whined and ducked his head.
Elsie drew back like William had physically struck her. “That is dreadful.” She stalked over toward him. “He’s been nothing but pleasant to you, when he likes no one. He sought to meet you last evening.”
Her Duke of Secrets Page 8