Aldora accepted and accompanied him in silence. Her mind churned as rapid as the wheels of a fast-moving carriage. Her own family’s scandal seemed to pale in comparison to the Marquess of St. James’s family history.
“He isn’t, you know.”
Aldora blinked, glancing back up at the marquess. “I beg your pardon?” He was going to think her an absolute ninny for not being able to follow a single thread of conversation.
“My brother. He isn’t the cold, heartless monster Society has made him out to be.”
Aldora had to bite back the rapid flurry of questions at the tip of her tongue and tried to temper the excitement that his words roused. She shouldn’t crave these personal details about the man Michael was, but she was unable to quell her desire to know more. With his gritty humor and directness, he was so very much unlike any other gentleman she’d ever known.
Fortunately, her patience was rewarded by the marquess’s explanation. “Society would have one believe that Michael is a cold, unfeeling brute.”
Aldora thought to the flinty spark in Michael’s gaze. Yes, to most he would be considered cold but his touch, his kiss, even the chuckle, rusty from ill use, spoke a different tale.
“Why are you telling me this, my lord?”
His eyes lit with appreciation. Apparently the young marquess appreciated honesty.
He inclined his head. “I believe you should know. Ahh, here we are,” he said, cutting into the sea of questions on her lips.
Aldora couldn’t quell the disappointment as she was deposited like so many used cloths on Sunday at her mother’s side. The marquess bowed low and murmured a string of simple pleasantries. “My lady, will you allow me to accompany your daughter on a ride in the park tomorrow morning?”
Mother’s excited response was lost in the weight of disappointment that fell around Aldora’s shoulders, and threatened to weigh her down. She should be elated at the young lord’s interest. Instead, all she could focus on was her friend’s earlier claim about the marquess’s remarkably low opinion of women. The marquess’s beliefs were part of the norm of their male-dominated society. Yet, the pang of disappointment that struck her heart reminded Aldora that there was another man very unlike this one who held a much more favorable view on a woman’s strength and resolve.
She watched him go, wondering over his words.
“Oh my dear, I believe you’ve secured St. James’s affection,” her mother said more than a touch too loudly. “He will make a splendid husband!”
Aldora winced and peeked around to verify whether anyone had overheard her mother’s crass utterance. Fortunately the din of the crowd drowned out the obsequious whisper.
As mother prattled on a list of the marquess’s many, many, many redeeming traits, Aldora stood there, dreaming of his brother.
Chapter Eight
“You know Mother is going to be less than pleased.”
Aldora picked up her pace, striding down the walking trail. She did her best to ignore her brother. Even at the young age of ten, he was taller than the boys his age, and very nearly the same height as most grown women. With a dimple in his right cheek and a devilish sparkle in his eyes, he was going to give Mother quite a bit of trouble with the ladies someday.
Benedict quickened his step. He easily matched the pace she’d set. “She’ll awake soon.”
Aldora snorted. “Unlikely.”
Benedict nodded. “Fine, then. She’ll wake in another hour or so and find you—”
“Find us.”
“Gone,” he continued, as though she hadn’t even spoken.
“There is still the matter of her getting ready for the day,” Aldora said. Why, that would take Mother a good two to three hours. Aldora and her siblings had always relished the inordinate time their mother sent primping and preening before a mirror. The more time devoted to her daily ablutions, the better for them—for all of them.
He snorted. “Not today. With the marque—”
She stopped and turned a frown on him. “Don’t,” Aldora managed between clenched teeth.
Benedict eyed her curiously. “Shouldn’t you be happy about being courted?” He wrinkled his nose. “Ladies love that sort of stuff. Anne assured me of that.”
Aldora pointed her eyes skyward. She could only imagine the foolish tales Anne, her fanciful sister, had erroneously poured into Benedict’s young, inexperienced head.
“First.” She held a finger up. “Do not listen to Anne.”
“But—”
“Ever,” Aldora said.
“If you say…”
“I do say,” she muttered.
Benedict closed his mouth. His expressive blue eyes indicated he very much wished to continue on the subject. He remained silent.
Smart boy.
Then he looked around. His brow furrowed. “Why are we here?”
Aldora frowned. “I thought you wanted to go to Hyde Park?”
He lifted his shoulders in a little shrug. “This is a riding trail. Ain’t exactly the best place for a walk.”
Oh, he was too smart. Fortunately, Benedict did not know about Michael, so he couldn’t know that this was the trail Michael rode along.
He scuffed the tip of his shoe along the ground, looking so utterly bored that Aldora was besieged by a wave of guilt. Poor Benedict. She could only imagine how difficult it was for him, a young boy, living amongst a household of women, deprived of any male figure for guidance and support. There weren’t even the funds to provide Benedict with the pleasures that Aldora and her sisters had experienced as young girls; ices at Gunter’s, fine tutors, any of it.
“What is it?” Benedict asked, calling her back to the moment.
Aldora managed a smile. “Nothing at all.” She fished out the simple fare she’d prepared for them: two large chunks of crusty, white bread, and slivers of apples. She held it out to him. “Why don’t you feed the ducks?”
His eyes widened. He reached for it like he’d been offered the Queen’s jewels. A spark lit his pale blue eyes, stirring up guilt deep inside Aldora. She’d been so focused on her siblings’ survival, that she’d neglected to consider their need for the simpler things; a smile, laughter, a trip to the park just for the sake of visiting the park. Then he froze. He pulled his fingers back as if he’d been burned and eyed her suspiciously.
“You’ve got no chaperone. I’m supposed to stay with you.” He squared his shoulders and tugged at the front of his jacket. The gesture, however, instead of giving him a more mature look, only put her in mind of a young boy playing at the role of adult.
Aldora tweaked his nose. “Run along. Enjoy your time.”
He didn’t need to be told again. Benedict snatched the morning fare as though he feared she might change her mind. With a crooked grin, he turned on his heel and double-backed around toward the lake they’d passed several minutes ago.
“Be careful, Benedict.”
“I will,” he called, not turning back around.
“Do not get too close to the…” She frowned as he disappeared from sight. “Water.”
Aldora stared off into the thick copse of trees and bushes ahead. She should be at home, awaiting the afternoon visit of the marquess, and yet what was she doing? Traipsing through the park and mourning the life she used to know, and hating that responsibility drove her search for a husband, and not the yearnings of her own heart.
“Pft,” she muttered under her breath. It was the height of foolishness thinking about Michael. Not when a match to his older, titled, and wealthy peer of a brother would solve her family’s every problem.
That wasn’t altogether true. It wouldn’t solve the problem of her happiness.
She pressed her fingers into the sides of her temple and rubbed back a growing megrim.
“Ahhhh!” The eerie cry filled the morning sky.
Her stomach turned over as terror turned her blood to ice. “Benedict!” She tore off through the empty park toward the distant cries of her brother.
I shouldn’t have left him. I shouldn’t have sent him off on his own. I should have joined him. The guilty phrases fueled her steps.
As she crested a slight hill, she slipped, staggered, and nearly fell in her haste to get to him. She caught sight of his reed-thin arms as he flailed hopelessly in the water, like a small pup tossed out to sea. Then a figure all but soared through the air. Aldora gasped as a stranger launched himself into the lake, his powerfully muscular frame created an enormous wave that continued to ripple long after he dove in.
“Benedict, I’m coming!” she cried. The rapid pace combined with the sheer terror of losing her brother caused a tightness in her chest. Aldora pushed through it, and powered down the hill, skidding to a stop at the sight before her.
Michael cradled Benedict against his broad well-muscled chest, like Benedict was no more than a babe. Benedict sputtered and choked. The man patted his back, the words he uttered to Benedict were lost in the distance, but the soothing cadence reached Aldora’s ears.
Her eyes slid closed as blessed relief filled her. It was as though all the bones were sucked from her body, and she sank upon the ground in a rustle of skirts.
Of course he should be here, her savior and hero. She opened her eyes to find Michael striding from the water with a soaked bundle in his arms. His foray into the lake had left his breeches indecently clinging to oaken thighs. Beads of water dripped from his soaked brow and splattered upon Benedict.
Benedict stared adoringly back at Michael like he’d been rescued by the angel Gabriel himself.
A warmth spread through her limbs, it filled every space of her being until she thought she’d drift off on the wings of happiness. It didn’t matter that Michael Knightly was wholly unsuitable. He was the second, scandalous brother to the gentleman presently courting her. He’d deceived her by withholding the truth of his identity.
But there was no helping it.
She loved him—this unconventional man who made her laugh, and now who’d saved her brother.
Aldora managed to shove herself to her feet. She rushed forward, tripping in her haste to reach the duo.
Michael glanced at her. His gaze, a molten heat fairly scorched her skin, warming her through.
She felt a warm flush stain her cheeks.
“I drowned,” Benedict said weakly as she stumbled to a stop beside him and Michael.
A sound—half-laugh, half-sob—escaped her as she clasped his cheeks in her hand. “You silly boy. You did not drown.” He had come dangerously close. Tears filled her eyes. She gazed up at Michael. “I can never repay you.”
Michael’s jaw hardened. He set Benedict down, and the boy ran into Aldora’s arms. “I don’t want anything you have, my lady.”
Aldora winced. Even folding Benedict in her arms and holding his precious body close did not tamp down all the hurt Michael’s cold words had roused. Why should he be the one who was bitter, hurt, and angry? It had been he who’d deceived her. Still, for his fierce show of displeasure, Aldora could not simply forget what he’d done this day.
She tossed her head back, and held his stare.
“He saved me, Aldi.” Benedict’s awe-inspired voice cut into what Aldora had planned to say. Benedict gazed at Michael with something akin to hero-worship. “You’re quite the swimmer, sir. Very impressive stuff.”
All the harsh lines of Michael’s face dissolved into a surprisingly sweet, gentle demeanor. “Thank you. All those years sneaking away from my tutors to steal a dip in the lake proved more useful than reciting the Latin alphabet,” he said with a wink. “Lest I give you any ideas, don’t be skipping out on your lessons.”
Benedict laughed. “Oh, don’t worry, sir. I don’t have a t—”
“That will be all,” Aldora said hurriedly.
Michael’s brows dipped.
Aldora cleared her throat. She didn’t need anyone knowing about their family’s financial state, especially most of all this man, which had nothing to do with who his brother was and everything to do with her own sense of pride and self-worth. What would Michael say if he knew her father’s scandalous gaming that had destroyed their financial coffers?
Aldora knew the moment the fear of his near drowning dissipated. Benedict pulled away, his face flush with embarrassment.
“You should say thank you to Mr. Knightly,” Aldora said.
“Thank you, Mr.—” His young brow scrunched up. “How do you know his name?”
Her mind went blank at her inadvertent mistake. “I-uh, I…”
“We have met at social functions. I’m the Marquess of St. James’s brother.”
Benedict’s eyes lit with a dawning understanding. “Ohhhh, the marquess.” He glanced slyly in her direction. “As in…”
Aldora glared him into silence.
Michael’s gaze alternated between her and her rapscallion brother.
She cleared her throat. “We should be going. My brother will surely catch his death.”
Michael inclined his head, the slight movement sent a bead of water dripping over his brow. It trailed a path down the furrowed brow, to the corner of his eye, and Aldora wanted to trace it with the tip of her finger, flick it away. Heat infused her cheeks. “Oh my goodness, you should be going, too. Why, you’ll surely catch your death as well.”
He smiled. “I assure you it will take a deal more than a dip in a cool lake on a near summer day to do me in.”
She should leave. She should go. So why did she remain standing there, staring at him, wanting him with greater desperation than she would the fabled pot of gold at the base of a rainbow?
His gaze pierced through her, warmed her all the way through until she wanted to lose herself in him.
Benedict sneezed and the moment was effectively shattered. He swiped the back of his hand across his nose. “Aldi’s expecting the marquess, so that’s why we must be going.”
Michael’s brows snapped together, fire lit his eyes, and threatened to singe her skin with the burning intensity of it. A sneering smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
Aldora held a warding hand up to her breast. His thoughts were clear. He took her as a fortune-hunting miss who cared about nothing more than his brother’s title and wealth.
Guilt twisted her insides. He was correct. She was nothing more than a conniving, scheming miss. Did it matter that her intentions were simply to save her brother and sisters from poverty and ruin?
She wet her lips. “Benedict, start back to the carriage. I’ll be but a moment.”
Benedict opened his mouth but then promptly closed it. He proffered his most respectable bow to the man who’d saved him. “Thank you very much, sir.”
Michael returned the bow, matching the younger boy’s polite deference. “It was my pleasure.”
Aldora watched Benedict scurry off and stared after him for a quiet moment. “You presume to know me. You, with your hard stare and cold smile, judge me for things you cannot understand.”
Michael continued to stand there in silence, which gave Aldora the courage she needed to finish.
“You don’t know what it is like to have to lose everything in the hopes of saving your family from the poorhouse. I’m not pursuing your brother for my desire for wealth and title…for me.” She took a steadying breath, humiliated waves of shame lapping at every corner of her body until she thought she might break under the force of it. “My siblings have been without tutors or governesses. They wear badly frayed clothing that we stitch by hand, because there are no maids left. All that remains between us and abject ruin is the patience of a rapidly tiring creditor.”
Aldora forced her gaze over in Michael’s direction. His face was an impenetrable mask, carved of immobile granite. There was no outward reaction to her admission.
Uncomfortable with his intractable silence, she dipped a stiff curtsy. “Thank you for…saving Benedict. I’m s…” The word trailed off. What was she to say? I’m sorry that I fell completely in love with you? I’m sorry you have such a low opi
nion of me?
She spun on her heel.
His arm shot out, his fingers in an oddly gentle manacle like-grip closed around her wrist.
Aldora gasped from the heat of his touch more than the alacrity of his movement.
Michael forced her back around to face him.
“Do you love him?”
Aldora blinked.
“Do you?”
“No!” she blurted. How can I love him when you stole my heart in Lord and Lady Havendale’s gardens?
“I am wealthy. I will care for your family.”
Aldora’s heart picked a funny staccato rhythm within her breast and soared on the wings of hope before logic sent her careening painfully back to earth.
“Your reputation.” Her voice emerged as a pained whisper.
Michael’s head jerked back like she’d slapped him.
“It is not my reputation I worry about,” she rushed to reassure him. “I have to think about my sisters making respectable matches.” It was very important to her that he understood it was not her own inflated ego that she cared for. That if it were her sole happiness that mattered, then she’d say to hell with the marquess and wed Michael regardless of his wealth, history, or lineage.
Michael released her wrist like he held a venomous snake within his grasp.
“I’ll not convince you to wed me, Aldora. I’ll not humble myself anymore that I’ve already done.”
Aldora bit back a protest when he spun away and stalked off down the hill.
A single tear fell, then another as she stretched a hand out toward his retreating back.
Don’t go! Please, don’t leave me.
Of course, he could never hear the tortured unspoken thoughts of her ravaged mind.
Chapter Nine
I’m a bloody fool.
Michael stared out into the gardens below, arms folded behind his back as he contemplated his earlier meeting with Aldora.
In Need of a Duke (The Heart of a Duke Book 1) Page 7