“Very well, my lady.”
Kilby was very young to be a butler, possibly only in his early thirties, but Bea had always liked him when he was footman here. She had elevated him to the lofty position of butler after Charles died. She had never had cause to regret her decision.
But she sensed something was sorely troubling the usually unflappable Kilby this morning.
Chapter 9
“What is wrong with you this morning, Quinlan?” Darius frowned at his valet. The other man’s distraction while shaving him had resulted in a stinging nick to Darius’s jaw.
Darius was not in the best of moods this morning as it was. He and Bea had spent a night of pleasure together, and this morning, he had woken in bed alone. He had immediately risen from his bed and knocked briefly on the door between his bedchamber and hers. The door was not locked, but Bea’s rooms were empty. Darius’s disappointment at not being able to make love to her again this morning had been acute.
It was not helped by the fact he had then recalled Bea’s promise to meet with Landbourne for breakfast today. Having Quinlan confirm Bea was even now seated in the breakfast room with Landbourne had caused that jealous green monster to rear its ugly head again, and had further added to Darius’s bad temper.
He remained still now as Quinlan performed the magic of stanching the blood from the cut on Darius’s chin.
Quinlan glanced at him before turning his attention to completing Darius’s shave. “I spent the night with Jeremy Kilby.”
His brows rose. “And this of interest to me because…?”
The valet gave up the endeavor of shaving Darius in favor of putting down the razor and pacing across to the window of the dressing room. “Because he asked me too many questions.”
“It has been my experience that most lovers do,” Darius drawled as he plucked up the towel draped about his chest and wiped the last of the shaving soap from his chin before discarding it and rising to his feet. Although, he had to admit, Bea’s only questions last night had been how they might give each other the ultimate in pleasure.
And then she left me this morning to have breakfast with another man.
“The questions were not about me but about you.”
All mockery left Darius, his eyes narrowing. “Such as?”
“Why you are here. What your intentions are toward Lady Hanwell.”
“Sounds more like a clucking hen fussing over its chick than a reason for any real concern.”
Quinlan frowned as he considered the matter. “No,” he finally stated. “The questions were too pointed, too personal. They gave me a feeling of unease.”
“But not enough to cause you to leave the man’s bed?”
“No.” The valet’s cheeks flushed a crimson red. “I—believe I might be falling in love with him.”
Now that was cause for alarm. Quinlan had been with him forever, was the closest thing Darius had to a family outside of The Sinners. Perhaps, because Quinlan’s sexual preferences meant he would never marry, it had never occurred to Darius the other man might one day fall in love and wish to leave his employ to be with that love. But if Quinlan fell in love with Bea’s butler, and the other man felt the same way about him, there was a distinct possibility the two men would at least like to work in the same household at some time in the future.
Of course, if Darius and Bea—
What the hell…?
If he and Bea what? Fell in love too? Married? Lived a fairy tale ever-after life together, with the faithful Quinlan and Kilby at their sides?
Darius had only really known Bea for a total of two days.
Besides which, he did not intend to fall in love with any woman.
Least of all one who had the crime of treason hanging over her head.
“Quinlan asks too many questions.”
“And who, pray tell, is Quinlan?” Bea prompted lightly, wishing to get this interview with her butler over with so that she might leave her private parlor and go in search of Darius. Half an hour spent in Richard Havers’s company was more than enough for any woman, especially when she had a virile lover waiting for her upstairs.
“The Duke of Wolferton’s valet.”
Bea was instantly wary. “And he has been asking questions?”
“Yes.”
“In regard to what?”
“You.” The butler looked more than a little agitated.
A cold knot formed in Bea’s chest. “Who has he been asking these questions?”
“Me, mainly.” There was an uncomfortable flush to Kilby’s cheeks. “I… The two of us have become…friends.”
“I see.”
The butler winced. “Do you?”
“It is not my business to know about your private life.” She had her suspicions regarding Kilby’s sexuality, but it really was none of her business whom he chose to have in his life. Love, wherever it was found, was far too precious to care about such things. “It was during the course of this…friendship that Quinlan asked questions about me?”
“Yes.”
“What sort of questions?”
Kilby looked pained. “If your marriage had been a happy one. Who your closest friends are. If there are any regular visitors to Hanwell Manor.”
All of them questions a new lover, Darius, might wish to know about her. Except Bea was now familiar enough with Darius’s arrogance to be sure that if he wished to know anything about her, he would ask her those questions himself.
Her uneasiness at Darius’s unexpected and uninvited arrival at Hanwell Manor two days ago now returned with a vengeance.
It caused her to question whether Darius had an ulterior motive for making love to her. She had been suspicious of that marked attention from the beginning, knew she was no beauty and never would be.
Could it be Darius’s reason for being here was that he had somehow discovered her secret and wished to confirm or deny his suspicions? The questions he was asking about her would seem to indicate as much.
If that should be the case, and Darius acquired the evidence he needed to ascertain her guilt, then Bea knew she faced the future prospect of swinging from the gallows.
“Your maid told me you are indisposed?”
Could crying until Bea made herself sick count as being indisposed? She supposed it could, when she still felt nauseous and her head ached as if the devil himself were hammering nails into it.
She gave a slight shake of that aching head as Darius stepped fully into her bedchamber and closed the door behind him. “I have a sick headache.”
The headache was caused by the crying she had done at the thought of what might happen to her if Darius found proof of what she had done. The sickness because she knew she had been falling in love with the man whose real reason for being here might be to prove her guilt and subsequently have her accused and tried for her crime.
Darius crossed the bedchamber to sit on the side of the bed where Bea lay beneath the bedcovers. Her hair was loose about her shoulders, adding to the pallor of her face. “Did something the two of us did together last night cause this?” He gently touched the heat of her cheek.
She flinched away from even the lightness of that touch.
Flinched away from him?
It would certainly seem to be the case.
Darius allowed his hand to drop back to his side. “Perhaps we overdid things last night.” He gave an apologetic wince. “I should have taken into account that you have not been in a physical relationship since your husband died and been gentler with you. Certainly less demanding. My only excuse is that I desired you so much, I could not seem to get enough of you,” he acknowledged self-derisively.
Her gaze avoided meeting his, and instead she watched her own fingers plucking at the bedclothes. “Excuse me if I find that hard to believe.”
He frowned. “How can you doubt it after last night?”
“We behaved rashly. I behaved rashly,” she dismissed in a hard voice. “I am not accustomed to literally leaping into be
d with any gentleman, let alone one I am newly acquainted with.”
“We have known each other for years,” Darius protested.
“We have seen each other at the occasional social event for years, but we have rarely spoken, and there was certainly never any indication we held any attraction toward each other.”
“You were a married woman for several of those years, and I do not allow myself to be attracted to married ladies. It is a question of honor that I and my friends adhere to.”
“Laudable of you all, I’m sure,” she spoke dryly. “But it does not change the fact I allowed your marked attention toward me these past few days to go to my head.”
“I believe it was other parts of your body which were affected the most,” he teased.
“Exactly,” Bea snapped, her cheeks becoming flushed. “But I am now come to my senses and realize I should not have allowed last night to occur. It will certainly not happen again.”
Darius studied her through narrowed lids. “You are ending our relationship?” he finally prompted.
Bea’s laugh lacked all humor. “I believe we have had this conversation before. One night together is hardly a relationship.”
“I am willing to continue—”
“I am not. Besides,” she added firmly as Darius would have protested. “I am seriously considering accepting the Earl of Landbourne’s proposal of marriage.”
“The devil you are!” Darius rose abruptly to his feet to stare down at her in disbelief. “Why on earth would you do something so obviously stupid?” he snapped. “Not only is the man the biggest bore on earth, but it is obvious he would only be marrying you for your fortune!” He was breathing heavily in his agitation.
She gave a wry smile. “You believe I am so unattractive, no man would wish to marry me for myself alone?”
“You know damn well I do not think that at all,” Darius rasped his impatience with such a ridiculous notion. “I thought you enjoyed your freedom after the oppression of your marriage. Had the distinct impression you had no intention of ever remarrying.”
She shrugged. “I have recently realized an unmarried woman is…prey, to the unwanted attentions of any man who takes a fancy to seducing her and engaging in a brief dalliance.”
“Are you saying my attentions are unwanted?” Darius bit out coldly.
Her gaze still refused to meet his as she instead stared across the bedchamber. “I am saying I allowed myself to be…tempted, into going to bed with you last night. And I repeat, it will not happen again. Indeed”—she did look up at him now, challenge glittering in her eyes—“I believe it would be best for all concerned if you left Hanwell Manor this morning.”
“No.”
Her eyes widened. “You are refusing to leave?”
“Yes, I am refusing to leave.”
“I could have my butler and several footmen eject you from the house.”
He gave a scornful snort. “They are welcome to try.”
She shook her head. “Why would you wish to stay somewhere you are not wanted?”
Darius gave a harsh laugh. “My dear Bea, if I only stayed where I was wanted, I would never leave my house!”
Bea looked at Darius searchingly, noting the tension in his body, the flush to the taut skin across his cheekbones, the thinned line of his lips, and the angry glitter in his eyes. She had heard whispered tales of the Duke of Wolferton’s cold and lethal temper, and currently, Darius appeared to be in a very fine temper indeed.
Because she had ended their relationship and announced she was considering marrying Landbourne? Something which was not even a possibility, when the earl had not even proposed to her. But she had every reason to suppose it was Landbourne’s intention to do so before the week was out. When or if that happened, she would, of course, refuse. Darius was right; she did not intend ever remarrying.
Or was Darius angry because she had asked him to leave, and so put an end to his ability to ask her servants any further questions about her?
It did not really matter which it was, she accepted heavily. Darius was dangerous to her on so many levels, and must be made to go. “I am feeling unwell and shall be suggesting my other guests leave later today too.” She had come to that conclusion in the midst of her tears, knowing she could not keep up a façade of joviality for the rest of the week when the threat of losing everything she had fought so hard to attain hung over her life like an ominous dark shadow.
“Apart from Landbourne, one presumes,” Darius sneered.
She nodded. “Apart from Landbourne.”
Darius breathed out his frustration with the course of action Bea appeared to have decided upon after spending a single night in his bed. “Is this an attempt on your part to force me into declaring myself?” Years of having women try to trap him into marriage by one means of trickery or another forced him into asking the question.
“You arrogant—!” Bea broke off with a gasp as she pulled herself up to rest higher on the pillows behind her. “I would not marry you if you were the last man on this earth!”
He snorted. “Then it is as well I have no intention of making such an offer!”
“Get out,” Bea sounded weary. “Get out of my bedchamber and out of my house.”
Darius gave a disgusted shake of his head. “You, madam, are even more contrary than the rest of your sex.”
“Then I am in fine company—because I do not understand you or your motives either.” Fire blazed in the darkness of her eyes.
“Motives?” he repeated softly.
“Motives. Reasons. It is all the same,” she dismissed impatiently.
“How do you explain the fact I allowed you to tie me up last night?”
That concession, vulnerability, was the one thing Bea had been unable—as yet—to justify in Darius’s actions. The only reason she had been able to come up with was an attempt on his part to encourage her complete trust of him so that he might ask his questions directly to her.
“We men rarely have motives, nor does reason come into bedding a woman,” Darius assured Bea at her silence. “We like to fuck, eat, and drink, work off further frustration by spending time sparring with fists and rapiers with our friends, and not necessarily in that order. Even so, I believe you will find Landbourne to be shallower than most. Left alone here with him, I predict you would be bored with his exclusive company in a matter of hours. You will certainly never marry him.”
As Bea had absolutely no intention of marrying the earl, she did not attempt to refute the comment. She had only made that claim at all as a means of encouraging Darius to leave. Something she appeared to have majorly failed to do. Besides, Darius had overlooked the fact she had said she was considering marrying the earl.
“If you think by remaining here that I will once again turn to you for amusement, then you are mistaken!” Bea snapped in temper.
“Amusement?” Wolferton echoed in obvious disgust. “Is that what last night was to you, amusement?”
“Yes,” she lied. Last night with Darius was something she knew she would remember for the rest of her life.
However long or short that life should be.
Her stomach gave another nauseated roll.
His nostrils flared. “In that case, you should seriously consider the idea of amusing yourself further, because I assure you we had only just begun to explore those wicked delights.”
A shiver ran the length of her spine merely thinking of what more there was to explore. What further wicked and delicious pleasures Darius could have introduced her to if she were willing.
She gave a firm shake of her head. “I believe we explored enough for me to know I have no interest in repeating the experience.”
“You bloody hypocrite!” Darius scowled darkly as he knelt on the bed to grasp hold of Bea’s chin and force her to look up at him. “I have seen you in the throes of your pleasure, Bea, and I know you enjoyed every minute of what we have done together these past few days.”
Of course she had,
and she longed to explore further. But she could not do so now that she knew Darius’s valet—and perhaps Darius himself?—was questioning her staff about her. Possibly some of her guests too, now that she thought of that long conversation Darius had with Margo yesterday evening. Not that she thought for a moment Margo would ever betray any of her confidences.
Darius’s lovemaking had been erotic and exciting, but the pleasure of continuing along that path was not worth the price Bea might ultimately have to pay. As it was, she would have to be more careful in future in regard to her behavior, and not give Darius, or anyone else, further cause for suspicion.
Bea met his gaze defiantly. “Things we enjoy are not always good for us.”
Darius released her chin and rose to his booted feet. “You are seriously set on this course of action?”
“Yes.”
His eyes glittered icily. “Then there is nothing more to be said.”
Bea looked down at the bed. “No.”
“I cannot believe this. Cannot believe you are considering marrying yet another man you do not love.” He muttered his frustration with her as he began to pace.
It was not helping Bea’s resolve in the slightest that Darius looked so wild and handsome this morning. He wore a midnight-blue superfine and pale gray waistcoat over his black shirt, with pale gray pantaloons and black Hessians. His dark hair was once again loose about his shoulders in disarray, reminding Bea of how much she had enjoyed running her fingers through that silky softness last night.
None of which changed the fact that Darius’s reason for being here at all was to make discreet enquiries about her. Thank God Kilby had thought to mention it to her; otherwise, she might have incriminated herself without even being aware of it. As had no doubt been Darius’s intention.
“I take it you have reconsidered and decided to leave today after all?” she mocked.
“Then you take it wrong,” Darius snapped. “My intention was to spend the week at Hanwell Manor, and I see no reason to change those arrangements.”
“Even though your hostess does not wish you to be here?” Bea frowned her frustration with his bloody-mindedness.
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