Bear emitted a pathetic little whimper.
His defenses faltered. “Don’t you have your mistress to see to?” William pleaded.
Said young woman’s dog barked once.
“I don’t need company,” William protested. As soon as the admission left him, heat spiraled from his neck up to his cheeks. He looked out into the hall and did a frantic search. “Talking to dogs,” he muttered under his breath.
Taking that as his proverbial welcome, Bear wedged his enormous frame through the slight gap of the door and trotted inside.
William stared out at the carved-wood settee in the hall and counted to five in his quest for patience. Yes, his life had indeed become a farce. He hesitated a moment and then reentered his rooms.
William pushed the panel closed with the heel of his foot and faced his canine companion.
Seated in the middle of his rooms alongside the mahogany center table, Bear sniffed at the ribbon that lay nearby.
“Spying like your mistress, I see,” he muttered, stalking over to the dog. He stopped abruptly several paces away. Talking to a bloody mutt and joining him.
Bear nosed at the fabric.
Speaking to animals would certainly place William firmly in the company of one who’d gone wholly mad. Even with that certainty, he found himself sliding onto the floor alongside Elsie’s dog. Drawing his knees to his chest, William stretched a hand out and stroked the top of Bear’s neck.
The mutt’s back leg reflexively moved in time to that stroking. “So, tell me, why are you really here? Did you also need to escape the chit?”
Bear slid his eyes closed and leaned into William’s attention.
Yes, it would seem Elsie Allenby had that effect on both man and beast.
All animals, really… They are not so very different from humans.
What a peculiar woman his brother had thrust into William’s household. She had unconventional views of animals and a desire to care for them when Polite Society saw little use for any animals beyond horses for riding and hunting and the hounds whose services they required during those hunts.
William continued to absently stroke the top of Bear’s head, until the dog’s eyes grew shuttered, and he sank onto his belly.
Moments later, bleating snores escaped from Bear’s mouth.
As he petted the dog’s coarse coat, he contemplated the graying and white hairs. The creature was old and, by the shadows in his eyes, nearing blindness. Elsie kept him anyway. This large mutt that few would ever want because of his lack of breeding, she insisted on traveling with.
Adeline had cringed at the mere mention of a dog in their household. Not even his explanation of wanting a loyal creature for when his nephew Leopold came ’round had any effect upon that horror.
Dogs were dirty. They tracked paw prints across fine carpets. They were noisy. They were… a whole host of other problems a person did not want in one’s household. That had been what she’d said anyway.
An unfaithful thought, a comparison of two women who were nothing alike—one who deserved his loyalty in death, and the other a stranger… who he wished to discover more about. For reasons that had nothing to do with the Brethren. Reasons that defied logic and had only everything to do with Elsie Allenby herself.
Footfalls outside his chambers cut into his musings, and he gave his head a clearing shake, grateful for the intrusion.
The determined steps came to a stop outside his rooms.
Outside his rooms? His servants and staff knew that during the days he was to be left—
A heavy knock reverberated in a sharp echo around the rooms.
Bear’s ears pricked up before he dropped his head back between his paws and resumed sleeping.
“You’re not much of a damned guard dog,” he muttered, pushing himself upright. His jaw throbbed, and swallowing a curse, William caught his chin in his palm.
That will not help…
What the hell did she know? He silently railed at the minx who’d uttered that unhelpful announcement. And more…what in hell is wrong with me: quarreling with minx and chatting with her damned dog. Stalking to the door, William drew it open—
And froze.
Her hand poised in the air in midknock, Elsie stared at him with saucer-sized round eyes. “Oh.”
At that breathy little exhalation, he sent an eyebrow slashing up. “Expecting another, madam?”
“No,” she said quickly. “I was not. I heard you talking to…” Her gaze slid over his shoulder to Bear.
He silently dared her to say anything of it. As Elsie turned back, he stiffened.
She gave him a small smile. “You were teasing again.”
Some of the tension went out of him. “I do not tease.” He never had. Not even when his wife had been living. Not with his family. And certainly not with those who worked on behalf of the Brethren.
Elsie wrinkled her pert nose. “I trust that is largely true, but given that in our short acquaintance, you’ve uttered two faintly jesting comments—”
His head ached at her methodical accounting. “Madam,” he warned.
“Oh, yes. Forgive me.”
“I trust you are looking for him.”
They glanced as one over to the slumbering dog, who at that moment flipped onto his back and snored all the louder. “Oh, no. I knew where he was off to. I gave him permission.”
She…?
“Gave him permission,” she reiterated with a nod. “He was worried about you.”
And mayhap the minx was capable of miracles. For the first time in the whole damned year, it was not his jaw, chin, mouth, and every facial muscle that ached, but rather, his blasted head. He jammed his fingertips against his temples and rubbed—to no avail. “Dogs do not worry about people.”
She scoffed. “Of course they do.”
He might as well have stated the sky was in fact green and the grass blue for the effrontery in her tone.
Elsie glowered at him. “I expect one such as you wouldn’t know a thing about having an animal and loving him.”
“I had a dog, madam. I know something of it.”
“You do?” she breathed. “You did?”
“I did, and my father had him put down because of a limp he’d developed after a hunt.”
She caught an agonized gasp in her palm. “Oh, William,” she said with a wealth of understanding.
William fisted his hands at his sides. My God, where had that admission come from? He’d thought that memory long buried and had never talked of it or shared it with anyone. Not his brother or sister. Not his wife. “It is fine,” he said tightly.
Elsie shook her head, challenging him at every turn. “It is not fine,” she said with a tenderness that washed through him, a siren’s spell she cast over him. “It explains so very much.”
“Elsie,” he warned impatiently.
Her features softened. “Regardless, I’ve not come for Bear.” Something shifted in his chest.
He should back away from the undefinable emotion in her intense hazel eyes. He should run from whatever these emotions were that she was forcing him to once again feel. Yet, he remained rooted to the spot, inexplicably drawn deeper and deeper into her pull.
“Why are you here?” In this household. In these rooms.
She glanced beyond his shoulder. “May I come in?”
William followed her stare. Into his chambers? Not once in their short marriage had Adeline ever set foot within them. The times they’d been intimate, he’d visited her chambers, and she’d expected him to leave shortly after they’d completed “the act,” as she’d referred to it. Since that, whores and actresses had been here, and servants had been here to clean. But this… Elsie entering his chambers would be neither about sex nor a servant’s assignments.
His palms went moist, and he curled his hands at his sides to hide the dampness.
Wordlessly, he stepped aside.
Elsie sailed into the room as though this was her rightful place and she was clai
ming it, no questions asked and no fight expected. She was… breathtaking in that command, fully self-possessed and assured—and unapologetic.
Elsie stopped when she reached Bear and eyed the dog a moment. “I…” Her gaze caught on the ribbon abandoned upon the rose-inlaid table.
He followed her stare. All his muscles strained, urging him forward as he anticipated her actions and yearned to halt her.
Elsie gathered her ribbon and methodically dropped it into the pocket sewn along the front of her dress.
“Is that what you’ve come for, then?” he drawled, infusing a false boredom into his tones.
“No.” She shook her head. “I came to apologize.”
William peered at her through the tangle that was his hair, damning it for the hindrance it was for the first time since he’d ceased tending it. “You—”
“I’m sorry,” she said simply.
William wandered over, carefully studying her as he walked. “Do tell, Elsie. What exactly are you sorry for?”
For allowing his convincing and far-too-charming brother to cajole her into journeying to William’s residence?
Elsie clasped her hands before her. “I should have been forthright with you,” she acknowledged. “When I suggested we dine together, it was… a ploy, as you referred to it. It was not my right to trick you or force any meetings upon you.” She drew in a breath. “Going forward, my intentions will be clear and forthright. I’ll not use any ploys to gather information that I believe would be helpful for you to share.” Elsie faltered in her avowal as he stopped a handbreadth from her, with only Bear between them. She swiftly regained her footing. “Rather, I will ask you any questions I have about your physical well-being and your past. You can of course send me to the devil, but you can rely upon honesty from me.”
William rocked back on his heels.
He was unaccustomed to people who took ownership of their words and actions. Lords and ladies were trained from birth to believe they were wholly in the right and could never be wrong on any score. “Why the about-face?” he pressed, heavy skepticism layered within the question.
Elsie lifted her shoulders in a little shrug. “Because it is the right thing to do. I’m not so arrogant that I believe myself correct in all decisions, and I’m not unable to apologize for the times I am in the wrong.”
William considered her with a deepening wariness. Everything within him said not to trust her. But an equal part of him was riveted by her directness. “Fine,” he said crisply. “What do you want?”
People always wanted something. And with Elsie’s gracious apology, he’d be mad not to mistrust that she possessed ulterior motives.
“To shave you.”
An image whispered around his mind, enticing him. Of her fingers upon him, touching him—not in the mindless act of passion he’d allowed himself to surrender to, but instead with the delicate caress he’d known all too fleetingly in the breakfast room. Alas, his service to the Brethren had given him countless reasons to be dubious of all women’s actions. Including seemingly innocent and well-meaning ones like Elsie Allenby.
He snapped his fingers twice, and Bear sprang to his feet and promptly moved into position behind him.
Elsie’s eyes flared. “How did you…?”
“How did I what?” he asked. “Hmm?” he urged when she remained tight-lipped. William strolled a path around her. “Know the signals you use with your dog?” He didn’t allow her a chance to answer. “I’m nothing if not observant, Elsie.” All his facial muscles protested their overuse, and still he was compelled to engage her. “Why should I dare trust you with a blade in your hand and access to my throat?”
She blanched, leaving her a ghastly white. “I would not… I could not…” Hurt him?
The young woman wore her sincerity like a mark upon her stricken face. But God help him. His instincts had proven so bloody faulty. He’d made missteps, and the results had been catastrophic. He’d be a fool to not be skeptical of this curious woman before him. “I’ve reason enough to question everyone’s motives.”
“It is a sad way to be, isn’t it?”
That brought him up short.
For she didn’t seek to convince him, or spout words belonging to an innocent. Yet again, she spoke as one who had been burned by life. Her fingers shook, and he took in the telltale quake.
“It is a safer way to be,” he said gruffly.
The young woman jammed her trembling digits back inside her pocket once more. The haunted glint he’d detected in her eyes glimmered bright, even in his dimly lit rooms. Again, an inexplicable hungering to drive that darkness away superseded logic.
“You wish to shave me, then.”
She wet her lips. It was a statement more than anything, but she answered anyway. “So that I might freely inspect your jaw and facial muscles.”
“There are no scars,” he warned. It was a waste of time to search for surface wounds.
Her gaze slid past his shoulder, and he knew the moment she ceased to see him and lived within her own mind and memories. “The scars one carries are often deeper and more painful than anything on the surface,” she whispered.
Gooseflesh rose on his arms.
Elsie blinked slowly and then glanced almost dazedly about the room before she settled her stare on William. Clearing her throat, she favored him with a small smile. “Shall we begin?”
Chapter 13
Elsie’s fingers still shook.
Before, they had trembled at unwanted memories raised by William’s mistrust and ruthless reminder that men… and women were given to evil acts, but now they quaked for altogether different reasons.
A short while later, with the items she’d requested delivered by a small army of servants and laid out upon the boulle shaving stand and mirror, Elsie stood with her back presented to William.
Her nape burned from the intensity of the stare he directed on her. And she stole a quick peek at the mirror. Her gaze collided with his. A faintly mocking smile ghosted his lips—and hers burned with the remembered feel of his mouth upon hers. Stop. Elsie redirected all her focus on the task at hand. What accounted for that cynical, mirthless grin? Had he sensed her unease and reveled in it? Was it that she’d been so rubbish at her furtive observation of him?
Either way, the gentleman remained a mystery in every way.
Nay, not necessarily in every way.
He’d agreed to her request—yet again. When the cynical glint in his eyes had hinted of a man who wanted to order her gone, he’d capitulated. He’d also allowed Bear to enter his rooms. What did it all say about William Helling, Duke of Aubrey, and this state of isolation he’d imposed upon himself?
It indicates he wants to be free…
It proved he was a man who carried guilt and pain.
She picked up the scissors and tested their sharpness. All the while, she contemplated William. No doubt, based on her own experience with those within the Brethren, William flagellated himself for crimes that he could never atone for. Why, he’d brought misery upon her own household and did not even recall the man whose life he’d so upended.
The scissors slipped from her fingers and clattered noisily upon the wood.
“Are we ready?” His melodious murmur rumbled around the room.
Elsie stiffened. “Just a moment more.” To steady herself, she hurriedly shifted the straight-edge razor, shaving scuttle and brush, and scissors so they lay in a neat row. When she’d finished, she stared at the items. “You may sit,” she called, directing that to the scissors.
The floorboards offered not so much as a groan to indicate the stealthy gentleman had moved. Silent as night, William slid into the ridiculous Venetian Green Man carved and gilded wood throne befitting a king. But then, William was not very far from that exalted state. He would sit on such a hideous piece of furniture that would cost more than all her personal possessions combined and would have been more beneficial to her to burn the mahogany wood portions for warmth.
&n
bsp; “You disapprove,” he noted when she reached for a towel.
“Of?” Elsie dipped the fabric into the washbowl.
“The chair,” he clarified.
Elsie squeezed out the cloth, splashing droplets within the bowl. “I don’t like it,” she said matter-of-factly. “There’s a difference between disapproving and disliking.” Good God, was there nothing he missed? She was in over her head with him. And in being here, in helping him, she was making the same naïve mistakes her father had. “It is hard to disapprove of an inanimate object.”
A laugh exploded from William’s lips. Coarse and ragged, it was a primitive half growl that originated in his chest and shocked her motionless, for there was also a sentiment she’d not witnessed from him—genuine mirth. Unlike the cynical half grins he’d flashed since her arrival. He cradled his jaw as he laughed.
William stopped abruptly. He opened and closed his mouth. And then tried again. “I haven’t laughed…” he whispered, letting his hand fall to his lap. “I…” Shock-filled eyes met her own, an almost-plea buried within their depths.
Her heart squeezed. This raw pain was something she knew something of. In this, the two unlikeliest of people paired together were kindred spirits. “I haven’t either,” she confessed into the quiet.
His body went still, the silence encouraging her to continue.
And yet, she couldn’t. Elsie wrung the cloth out once more, squeezing out the remaining drops. She applied it to his thick beard and held it in place.
“It was a gift from my wife,” he said quietly. The jolting admission came out slightly muffled by the damp cloth covering his mouth.
Elsie lifted the fabric and returned it to the bowl.
“I hated it,” he confessed, another laugh escaping him, this one less raw and containing memories that only he saw but wished to confer. “I thought it garish and better fitting a place in the king’s palace than in my chambers.”
Her lips twitched. She and William were alike in that thought, too.
His laughter faded to a distant smile. “But it was a gift from her, and she was so very proud of the piece she’d had commissioned. And so, I told her thank you and that I loved it. It’s been here ever since.”
Her Duke of Secrets Page 14