“Forget,” she breathed.
He stared at her full lips, transfixed, sucked further within her spell.
Elsie’s long lashes fluttered, and she angled her head back. William battled with himself, wanting to lose himself again in her kiss. He briefly closed his eyes. And yet, if he did, something deep within him said there would be no coming back from the edge of temptation.
William released her.
“I invited you here to do a job, Elsie,” he said coolly. “One singular task: to evaluate my jaw and nothing more. Do what you were ordered here to do. Or…” Get the hell out.
Except, he kept those words back.
“Or?” she prodded.
She wants me to throw her out. She’d expressed reservations from the start at being here and had been forced into the role by his brother. And yet, she’d come… and stayed anyway. And would remain here until he issued the declarative.
God help me, I cannot.
With horror sweeping through him, he backed away from her, keeping his eyes on her as he went. The moment he stepped into the hall, William bolted.
*
“Well, that was a singular disaster,” Elsie muttered.
The most essential rule in overseeing anyone or anything—be they human or animal—was to establish a relationship based on trust. That lesson had been one of the first her father had handed over to her as a girl overseeing the care of her first injured animal, a fawn with a broken limb she’d found in the same copse where her father would die years later.
And she’d forgotten it.
Nay, you allowed yourself to forget because you are impatient for answers about William Helling, Duke of Aubrey. Because she wanted to know about him as a man and the losses that had turned him into a surly, angry figure content to live away from the rest of the world.
He’d lost his wife, a woman he’d desperately loved and now punished himself out of some sense of guilt. All these years, she’d taken the nameless stranger who led the Brethren as one incapable of feelings and emotion. Only to find in William one who’d loved so deeply that he’d been reduced to a shadow of a person.
To be so loved. It was a sentiment she’d never allowed herself even a dream of, for she’d been viewed by the world as an oddity more than as a person.
Except for William, the unlikeliest of ones to not turn his nose up at her or her talents. And now, in having resurrected the past, she’d left him hurting.
Bear whined, batting at her skirts with his paw, calling her back from her thoughts. “I know. I know. Go to him,” she urged.
The dog immediately sprang into action, rushing from the room with a speed he’d not shown in more years than she could remember.
“What in hell was that about?”
Elsie gasped and whipped her head toward the furious demand.
Lord Edward and his counterpart, Mr. Bennett, stormed into the breakfast room. Their matching black cloaks swirled angrily about their feet. Her heart knocking painfully against her ribcage, she shifted herself behind the high back of the seat William had vacated, sliding her fingers closer to the knife he’d left there. Do you really think you could use it if need be? That voice jeered her for the weak woman who’d run while her father had faced down the danger brought by the Brethren. “Lord Edward,” she greeted with an equanimous calm that she did not feel. “Mr. Bennett.”
“We’re not here to exchange morning pleasantries, Miss Allenby,” Mr. Bennett said in his brusque, lethal tones. He tugged off immaculate leather gloves and slapped them together. “We’re here for a report on your work with His Grace. And by that”—he curled his lip in a derisive sneer—“exchange, you’re as useless as everyone to come before you.”
As she’d said to William moments ago, she didn’t possess an inflated sense of self. She merely sought to help for the sake of helping, not to build a reputation of any sort. As such, Elsie let the insults roll off her person and instead fixed on one detail. She narrowed her eyes on the uglier, angrier of the pair. “You were listening in on our exchange?”
“We were verifying whether you are doing your job,” Mr. Bennett shot back.
All her earlier fear dissolved, and the realization proved a restorative fact. They’d been there all along, listening in on her exchange with William… and then Bear. “I’ll not be spied on.”
“You will as long as you are in our company,” he said with a cheerful matter-of-factness far more ominous than any threat he’d previously leveled.
She shivered.
Lord Edward lifted a hand, silencing his partner, and then he turned to Elsie. “Miss Allenby, will you please sit?” he asked, as polite as any gentleman greeting a guest in his parlor.
Elsie hesitated a moment and then took the chair previously occupied by William. She braced for him to tower above her as his brother had and issue veiled threats. Surprise filled her when he sat beside her.
Elsie quickly schooled her features and watched him. His movements were unhurried, deliberate, carried out with the ease of one who didn’t wish to jolt a skittish mare. He stacked his gloves neatly alongside her forgotten plate. Then steepling his fingers, he laid them on his flat belly. “I’ll speak candidly with you.”
Mr. Bennett leveled a sharp glance at the other man that went ignored.
“Oh?” she asked cautiously.
“You gathered my brother’s role is of some importance.”
“I ventured he is the leader of your organization,” she reminded him flatly.
His face remained impressively blank, carved of stone that not even a mason could chisel a hint of emotion or feeling into. “Regardless of what his specific role is or is not, the duke is a man of great importance. Your baiting him does us no good in helping to restore him to his previous state.”
She contemplated those words, along with the gentleman before her. “So that is what this is about.”
Lord Edward stared back quizzically.
“This…” Elsie waved a hand in front of her. “Me being here isn’t about your brother. It is about the Brethren.”
“They are one and the same.” Both men spoke simultaneously. Of course that would be the answer to them. To these men, that was all anything was ever about. The lives of their victims, or those inadvertently touched by any connection, were disposable. And it would seem, even the leader of the organization itself was useful only for the purpose he served. Or, in this case, did not serve.
A sliver of sadness pierced her heart, settling in there. Was it any wonder William had become the cold, unfeeling figure he had? Not only had he been broken by the event he’d not speak of, but he was viewed more as an entity to serve than a person.
“I would speak with you alone,” she said quietly to Lord Edward.
Mr. Bennett growled, “There’s nothing you can say about His Grace that you cannot say in front of me.”
“Leave us,” the other man ordered in cool tones that were a mirror of his brother’s.
He waited until Mr. Bennett had taken his leave and then stared at her expectantly.
“You want me to heal your brother,” Elsie said without preamble. “You would have me lay hands upon him and take away whatever pain he knows.” It was the hope of all the men who’d come before her father, pleading for an escape from their suffering. “Perhaps it is because he is family and you love him?” She hoped that for William’s sake, but knew their type enough to know the unlikelihood of that pure emotion driving either of them. “Or perhaps it is because of his role.” Elsie lifted her palms, willing him to understand. “But those reasons, and motives, they matter.” William’s visage flashed to her mind—angry, hurt, desperate—and her heart squeezed all the tighter. “Your brother is hurting, and he needs to find his way, not because of you or the Brethren, but because of him. His pain—” Ran far deeper than the physical effects suffered from a broken jaw.
“What is it?” Lord Edward encouraged.
Elsie looked to the door. Anyone could be standing outsi
de it. Even the very man they spoke of. Discussing him with his brother, or anyone, would only be a betrayal. She weighed her response. “If I help him find freedom from physical pain?” She shook her head sadly. “He’ll still not be the man he once was, nor could be, unless he deals with what is broken”—Elsie pressed her hands to her chest—“in here.” She searched his face. “I don’t expect you to understand that.” No one ever truly had. Not the villagers who’d looked upon her as a freak, nor the patients her father had cared for.
“I do, though,” he said in somber tones.
Her lips parted.
Lord Edward flashed a small smile. “I’ve known something of my own pain and what it took to find happiness again.”
Which he had. There was a peace that radiated within his eyes. It was a sentiment she’d not seen reflected back in the cracked mirror of her modest chambers in nearly five years.
“What do you require?”
The question took her aback. “Truthfully?”
“I’d rather you not lie,” he said dryly, startling a laugh from her. She’d not expected humor from him, or anyone within the Brethren.
“I don’t require anything. I just require time and patience. I don’t need you visiting daily to see if some unlikely miracle has occurred. Because there are no miracles in life. There is just time that serves as a balm.”
“You’ll have it,” he said so automatically that it threw her off-balance once more.
“And your Mr. Bennett? Will he be of a like opinion?”
Lord Edward snorted. “He’s not mine. Cedric Bennett belongs to no one.”
She nodded. “Precisely.”
All earlier brevity faded. “You’ll have what you require. He’ll accept the terms as I set them forth.” He picked up his gloves and twisted them in his hands a moment, studying his fingers. As if he felt her gaze on his movements, Lord Edward stopped. “I would have you know that Cedric… and others, for them, my brother’s role is all that matters. But he is suffering, and I’d not see him hurt.”
It was the most honest he’d been with her since they’d met. “Thank you,” she said softly.
He said nothing for a long while. White lines formed at the corners of his mouth from the tight manner in which he clenched those muscles. “His wife—”
She shook her head, cutting him off. “No.” He still did not understand. But then, the concept was difficult for most to grasp. “You needn’t explain.” She would learn, as William was ready.
Lord Edward stood. She rushed to her feet beside him. “If you require anything, Miss Allenby…”
“I will certainly notify you,” she promised. But she would not need him. Not as long as she was here and not when she left.
Instead of leaving, however, Lord Edward lingered. “I am sorry about the circumstances surrounding your father.” She went still at the unexpected statement. “I trust there were reasons—”
“Please do not.” The request tore from her throat. “I’m not here to redeem him in your eyes.” Their opinions did not matter. Pain and regret stuck in her throat, and she struggled to get words past the emotion. “I know who my father was, and that is enough.”
He bowed his head, his silence unaccusing, and a small branch extended.
Lord Edward drew on his gloves and started for the door, but then abruptly stopped. “Miss Allenby?”
She stared back questioningly.
“You insist you are not capable of healing or miracles, and yet, my brother has not broken his fast in this room in a year. He’s not had his hair drawn back, and he’s certainly never allowed someone to speak as candidly as you did earlier.” A smiled ghosted his lips. “Not without having that person tossed out on their ars—ergh.” His cheeks flushed, and he coughed into his fist. “You’ve already done more for William than I’d believed anyone capable of.”
Her cheeks warmed under his praise. “You make more of it than there is.”
Lord Edward chuckled. “Miss Allenby, I’m a man who deals in facts. I don’t make anything out of something that is not there.”
And with that, William’s brother left.
Elsie stared at the open doorway. He believed she’d reached William, and yet, she could not, and would not, with the approach she’d taken.
They needed to begin again.
Fueled by that, Elsie went in search of her patient.
Chapter 12
William paced the floor of his chambers.
You deserve to share whatever holds you trapped, because until you do, William, you will not be free…
How dare she? he seethed. How dare she presume what he needed, or what would help him be free? As if he could be free. As if he deserved it. He slashed his hand through the air as he walked. Forgiveness, she’d spoken of. Peace. Such sentiments didn’t truly exist. Not for him. And not for most. The artificial security possessed by the world was supplied by William and the others who did the work of the Home Office.
William stopped abruptly. Goddamn her. She was right.
He stared blankly at the light that spilled through the crack in his curtains. Elsie had exposed him for the fraud he was. And he was very much a fraud in every way. William caught himself against a table to keep himself standing and clung to it for all he was worth.
His chest heaved as it had when he’d raced Edward through the hills of Kent. Only, this was no boyish game from long-ago times of stolen innocence. This was the reality of now.
“I failed.” He forced himself to whisper that truth into existence. His entire body went whipcord straight as the realization slammed into him.
He’d failed. He’d deliberately let himself fail in his role as Sovereign. He’d failed the family that had taken him as the all-powerful duke, not only keeping his own life well-ordered, but the lives of the entire Helling family. He’d failed his godson, a boy with an abusive father, a mere child who’d relied upon William for protection and love. And he’d failed the one woman who’d relied upon him for protection and safety.
As such, he’d been punishing himself ever since.
A faint scratching split the quiet.
William jumped. Bloody hell. What a pathetic bastard he’d become, being caught unaware by servants. It hardly mattered that the servants in his employ were all members vetted and trained by the Home Office. “Go away,” he thundered at the door.
Silence met the demand, and as soon as the echo of his voice ceased bouncing around the room, he let his shoulders drop. What was happening to him? His household? The control he’d thought he had?
I never really had it.
He had been exposed for the impostor he was. A man unworthy and undeserving of the great trust that had been placed in his hands. Shame soured his stomach. It had taken nothing more than a diminutive spitfire to make him see the truth of what he was.
Nay, she was not nothing more.
Elsie as she’d been a short while ago slipped into his mind, tenaciously clinging to his thoughts. Just as she’d done since she arrived. Two days ago? A lifetime ago? There was a spirit and strength within her, the likes of which he’d never before witnessed in any woman. Not his wife, not any of the women whose services had been enlisted on behalf of the Brethren.
And that is why you stormed off.
Because Elsie scared the hell out of him. God help him, how did he, a man of the clearest logic, rationalize the hold she had over him in this short time?
It’s because you do not know what to do with her. He didn’t know what to make of her. And what terrified him even more was that she’d proven he was not so immune to feeling emotions he’d rather not feel.
William dragged his hands through his hair, freeing the greasy strands from the neat arrangement she’d made. The faded blue ribbon sailed to the floor at his feet.
He stared blankly at the scrap. It lay there, a faded flash of blue among the brighter shades of his crimson Aubusson carpet. The fabrics stood in a stark juxtaposition of wealth and poverty. Beckoned by the fain
test answers contained within that article, William dropped to his haunches. Collecting Elsie’s ribbon, he rubbed the fabric between his thumb and forefinger. All the while, he studied the gift she’d conferred.
Who was Elsie Allenby?
Her flawless tones were befitting any refined English lady, while her cheeks, tanned from the sun, spoke of a country miss. One who, by the threadbare quality of her drab gowns and the ribbon he held, had very little. William drew the ribbon close to his nose and slid his eyes closed.
The whisper of lemon and orange that had filled his senses and nearly snapped his control in the breakfast room enticed. But here, in the privacy of his chambers, with the world shut out, he let the innocent fragrances flood him. They threaded through him, wholly understated and yet potently tempting for their subtlety.
Hers was not the sickly sweet perfumes the actresses and mistresses he’d taken this past year had doused themselves in.
The faintest scratch sounded at the door.
The ribbon slipped from William’s fingers, and cursing under his breath, he scrambled to collect the fabric. “I said, get the hell out,” he bellowed, straightening.
Where his earlier request had been met with a dutiful silence, this time the scratching persisted. A servant’s scratch, as he and Edward had so jokingly called the bothersome raps at the door by their parents’ nauseatingly formal staff. His late father would not, however, have tolerated the insolence of having his orders gainsaid.
But then, he’d proven countless times that he was not his father. Not in the ways that mattered.
Self-loathing brought him to his feet. Slamming down Elsie’s ribbon, William stormed over to the door and yanked it open. “Did you not hear what I…” His words faded into nothing as he glanced down at the unlikeliest of intruders.
His large pink tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth, Bear panted heavily.
“Get out,” William ordered and made to shut the oak panel. “Last night was a momentary lapse in my sanity.” And yet, he stood there, still talking to a dog.
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