Yet the more he tried not to think of Lillian, the more he did. Part of him wanted to march over to Frost’s and insist on speaking with her. To kiss her until she admitted how she felt about him and realized the feelings they shared could overcome any obstacle.
The other part wanted to walk away and never darken her path again. Or did he fight until he won her?
Which way did he choose?
He slowed his horse to a walk. The fresh morning air hadn’t eased his angst despite his hope that it would. His indecision was unfamiliar and unpleasant.
What could he do but give her the time for which she’d asked? It was difficult for him to endure the attention he received, so he understood her discomfort at the notice she would endure because of him. But he wondered if there was something more to her unease. The longer he pondered the situation, the less certain he became.
He respected her enough to do as she asked. Yet relinquishing the outcome of the situation to time and fate seemed wrong. Where did that leave him?
He returned home, just as out of sorts as when he’d left. He only knew that nothing would be resolved this day. He’d be better served thinking of how to proceed with D.T. Hurley.
To clarify his plan on that front, he sent a message to Rutland, requesting he call on him when convenient. Elijah knew how busy the viscount was with his other duties but hoped he’d stop by soon. Contacting Frost seemed unwise, and he decided to wait a day or two. The man might’ve determined he didn’t want Elijah anywhere near him or his sister.
Elijah saw to business matters while he waited for a reply, including reviewing the latest reports from their various holdings. He looked in on his mother, who was reading in her sitting room, but didn’t stay long. She knew him too well and would see his upset if given half a chance. Thank goodness she hadn’t been at the ball when Lillian had rebuffed him. He wasn’t ready to discuss what had happened with anyone.
A knock on his library door revealed a footman who announced Rutland’s arrival.
“Your grace,” Rutland said with a bow. “Has new information surfaced?”
Elijah gestured to the chair before his desk. “Sit. Please. I wanted to hear your opinion on the next step with Hurley.”
“Certainly.” He raised a brow. “Will Frost be joining us?”
“Not today.” Elijah didn’t expand his answer and hoped Rutland wouldn’t ask.
“Very well.” But the viscount didn’t bother to hide his questioning look.
Elijah ignored it. Or rather, tried to.
“I’ve been advised that Hurley remains at the same location,” Elijah said. “I’d hazard a guess he isn’t aware he’s being watched.”
“Not necessarily.” Rutland shook his head.
“How so?”
“Why risk changing locations until you’re forced to? I would almost bet he’s waiting to see what our next move is. We already know that, thanks to McCarthy, he has a policeman or two who provide inside information.”
“I thought the issue had been resolved?” Elijah detested the idea that the police weren’t on the side of what was right.
“We would be wise to assume another policeman took the place of the one we uncovered.”
Elijah ran a hand over his face. It seemed nothing was going his way of late. “The inspector from Scotland Yard only promised to look into the matter but had little hope they’d be able to move quickly on the issue without evidence.”
Rutland nodded. “I feared as much. Did you speak with Pennsboro about ordering from Hurley?”
“Yes, but I don’t know if we can count on his help. He couldn’t decide whether to be affronted at my remarks or horrified that anyone knew of his financial troubles. I only hope he’ll notify us if he orders from Hurley so that we can intervene.”
“You warned him not to serve anything from Hurley?”
“Yes, but he didn’t seem inclined to listen. I’ll check with him again before the ball.”
Rutland’s gaze narrowed as he studied Elijah. “Forgive me, but you seem out of sorts. Is all well?”
This was one of those times when he didn’t want to be treated differently because of his title. “Little in my life is going as planned.”
“Oh?” The expectant look on the viscount’s face invited him to explain.
Did he dare?
“Lady Lillian,” he said. It seemed as if saying her name should be enough of an explanation.
The knowing smile Rutland gave him didn’t reassure him. “I wouldn’t have guessed a duke would have problems with the ladies.”
“I don’t believe a title precludes one from problems, especially with women. Surely you’ve discovered that.”
Rutland chuckled. “True.” He waited, his curious gaze steady on Elijah.
“Fight or flee. That is today’s question,” Elijah offered at last.
“From the lady?” At Elijah’s nod, Rutland considered the words. “That depends.”
“On?”
“Does she make you insane? Can you redirect your thoughts to something else or does she encompass your entire being at the oddest moments?”
Even as Elijah opened his mouth, Rutland held up a hand. “No need to tell me all the details. I don’t mean to invade your privacy. I’m merely sharing my experience. At turns, I wanted to wring my beloved’s neck as much as I wanted to kiss her. It could’ve gone either way on multiple occasions. But not all ladies are as stubborn as Dalia Fairchild.”
Elijah chuckled. “It’s highly entertaining to think of you in such a situation. I will take your remarks into consideration. Stubbornness is not one of Lillian’s traits from what I’ve learned, but she is certainly determined.”
“From the look on your face, I believe I could guess your answer.” Rutland grinned. “I look forward to seeing how it resolves.”
“Why is it that ladies can steal all our attention whether or not we’re with them and with so little effort?”
“Alarming, is it not?”
“Especially as I have to doubt we cause the same problem for them.”
Rutland scoffed. “I agree. Do you suppose that means we need them more than they need us?”
“I have no doubt of the truth of your question.”
The men spoke for several more minutes before Rutland said goodbye, leaving Elijah in his library, pondering Rutland’s questions.
Lillian made him crazed, and he certainly thought of her at the oddest moments, even when he was deeply involved in other issues requiring his attention.
He liked her. Very much. He enjoyed conversing with her, and he certainly enjoyed kissing her. The fact that his mother liked her and Lillian returned the affection was an added advantage. He appreciated Lillian’s protectiveness over his mother as well.
But was ‘like’ the most apt description for how he felt?
The ache in his chest suggested it wasn’t. He missed her already. The idea of attending any balls or parties without the lure of seeing her was less than appealing. She stirred his senses, his desire, like no other woman ever had.
He rose to pace the library, his thoughts hopelessly tangled as he ran through various things he could say to her. But wasn’t this a decision she needed to make without his influence? He didn’t want to sway her into seeing him. He wanted her to choose to be with him regardless of the advantages and disadvantages of holding a title such as his.
“Elijah?” his mother’s voice called from the main drawing room.
His paused, realizing his pacing had taken him into the foyer. With a sigh, he walked into the drawing room where his mother sat. Her needlework was on her lap, and he noted she’d completed an entire intricate flower. But she also had sketch paper and pencil on the table near her elbow with a few doodles on the page.
“Whatever are you doing?” she asked with a frown.
“I was just...” His mind blank, he had no ready answer.
“Something must be on your mind to have you walking to-and-fro. You’ll wear a path
in the marble floor.”
“I have several things weighing my thoughts. Pay me no mind. They’ll work themselves out eventually.”
“Your father paced as well. Do you remember?” she asked the question idly as she picked up the embroidery piece.
“I’d forgotten that.” He’d moved to his own house years ago, so it had been some time since he’d witnessed his father pacing.
“It seemed to help him work through things. Do you find the same to be true?”
“I have hopes, though I suppose time is what truly resolves many worries.”
“Life’s difficulties have a way of working out for the best even if it is hard to realize that in the moment.”
“Those are wise words.”
She looked back up at him. “Is it anything I can assist you with?”
“No, thank you. Merely a few troubling details that will no doubt unravel themselves soon enough.”
“You’ve become better at lying, and I’m aware you’re a grown man with a mind of your own. I’m certain you’ll share things with me if and when the time is right.”
He couldn’t help but smile. “Trust you to see through my deception.” He had no intention of sharing the details of his quest to remove D.T. Hurley from business, but would it be wise or helpful to share his worries about Lillian? “I thought I’d caught Lady Lillian’s affection, though now I’m no longer certain.”
“Oh?”
“You like her, do you not?”
“I do, but that matters little.”
“Your opinion matters a great deal to me,” he protested.
“Thank you for saying so. I appreciate that. But whether you and she come to care for each other is what matters.”
“I thought we did, but she asked for time.”
“Ah.” His mother filled the word with meaning as she nodded.
“What does that mean?”
“I felt much the same way when your father and I first met. The problem with dukes is that you come with baggage.”
“What?” He was more confused than ever.
“There is more to you than just the man. There are the title and the duties and the holdings and the many people who depend upon the title. It’s a rather long list.”
“What do you suggest?”
“That you do as she asks and give her time.” She ran a finger along the embroidered flower. “You were born into your role and have had a lifetime to adjust to it. Lillian might be of nobility, but a dukedom is a different level even for her. Becoming a duchess puts a woman under much greater scrutiny. It’s not easy.”
“Nor is waiting.”
“True. But good things are worth waiting for, don’t you think?”
He smiled and bent to kiss her cheek. “Wise indeed. Thank you, Mother.”
“If only I could advise on the other matters I see lingering in the depths of your eyes.”
“I—”
She held up her hand. “I am here if you need me. No need to make up excuses for not sharing. We all have secrets. They keep life interesting.”
He frowned, uncertain whether he liked the sound of that.
Chapter Twenty-One
“The green copperas is supposed to give to porter in the pewter-pot that peculiar flavour which drinkers say is not to be tasted when the liquor is served in a glass.”
~The Seven Curses of London
Two days later, Lillian stared out the terrace door of the drawing room and heaved a sigh. She felt too restless to settle, too tired to do anything of merit, which left her staring listlessly at the garden.
Julia, her father, and Oliver had left for tea with Captain Hawke and his wife, but Lillian remained home, pleading a headache. She didn’t feel like conversing. The problem was she didn’t feel like doing anything. Needlework didn’t hold her interest. None of the books lining Oliver’s shelves in the library caught her fancy. Not even drawing sounded appealing.
Instead, she wandered about the room, admiring the knickknacks Julia had placed here and there, then stared out the window once again and sighed, detesting herself for her restless mood. This wasn’t making her feel any better, nor had it helped to answer any of her questions.
A knock on the door interrupted her musings.
“A letter arrived for you, my lady,” a footman said as he offered it to her.
Lillian’s heart thudded as she took the envelope. Hope rose only to be dashed when she realized it was not from Elijah. Her mindset had changed course more often than a ship in a rough storm. With equal fierceness, she wanted him to contact her yet wanted him to honor her request.
To her surprise, the letter was from Helena’s mother. Lillian’s heart renewed its thudding as she opened the envelope, surprised the lady would take the time to write. Concern filling her, she unfolded the letter, her heart aching with a renewed loss of Helena.
Dear Lillian,
I know you were beside yourself with grief at Helena’s passing. I believe Helena told you of her admirer and how disappointed she was that he never came forward with the expectations he set when they met.
Lillian bit her lip, tears filling her eyes. As terrible as she felt for not gaining vengeance for Helena, she knew some misunderstanding had to have occurred. Elijah was not the man Helena had described. While he professed to barely remembering Helena, her friend had claimed to have fallen in love with him. None of that made sense to Lillian.
She’d intended to write to Helena’s mother soon after her arrival in London, but with circumstances being what they were, what could she have possibly told her?
Blinking back tears, she continued to read.
The situation was not what any of us believed. You may remember Helena received a letter a few weeks prior to her falling ill. I have just discovered who the author of that letter was. It wasn’t who we thought, and I wanted to let you know immediately. David Grangely, Vicar Grangely’s son, is the one who wrote the note. He shared this news with me a few days ago, explaining that he admired Helena for many months before deciding to write to her. But his feeling of unworthiness prevented him from signing it.
Lillian’s shock was complete. David Grangely? She never would’ve guessed the shy young man had feelings for Helena. But, oh, how she wished he would’ve found the courage to sign that letter. It could’ve changed everything.
While she had no idea if Helena would’ve returned his affections, not realizing the identity of her admirer had caused her to suspect the last man who’d been kind and danced with her—Elijah.
The evening had meant little to Elijah as he’d been buried in grief and doing his best to deal with his father’s passing. But Helena had taken that moment and expanded on it in her mind. When the letter from an admirer had come, Helena believed it came from Elijah. In fact, she’d been certain of it.
Lillian had been hard-pressed to argue as she hadn’t been there to see what had happened when Elijah had visited the area. She should’ve realized the truth or at least suspected it. She’d already been so certain Elijah hadn’t written the letter to Helena that there seemed little point in telling him of this.
Tears fell as she read the rest of the brief letter. Whether finding out the truth had given Helena’s mother any peace, Lillian didn’t know. For Lillian, it brought forth both clarity and regret.
With the letter in hand, she retired to her room, realizing her tears were far from over as a wave of grief overcame her.
~*~
Elijah studied the building on Netley Street not far from the docks. He pulled Frost’s hastily scrawled message from his pocket to study the address again, wondering if there was some mistake.
The area was one Elijah had passed through once or twice but never lingered near.
The street brimmed with activity. Clerks bustled along with papers gripped tightly in hand. Sailors strolled by, their odd gaits marking their occupation. Loads of crates, boxes, and barrels were piled high in carts headed to or from the docks. Dock workers hurried along, some s
topping at the Cat and Fiddle to ease their thirst.
Ships’ masts stood boldly against the skyline, and a briny scent mingled with that of the goods being hauled. As far as the eye could see, warehouses lined the street interspersed with rope-makers, ship-chandlers, and other businesses that were a necessary part of hauling cargo.
As a rough looking man bumped into him, he remembered there was a reason he rarely ventured here. The place was madness, a world of its own, and he felt decidedly uncomfortable.
Perhaps Frost’s message was some sort of payment for the current status between him and Lillian. Frost had lured him to this disreputable neighborhood and left him to fend for himself. He was beginning to wonder if that could be true as thus far, Frost had yet to arrive.
Elijah had taken a hansom cab, and his attire was the oldest his valet had been able to find. Still, he doubted he blended into the street in any way.
“Where the hell are you?” he muttered under his breath.
“No need for panic.”
Elijah turned to find Frost approaching from behind him. His attire was much different than the last time he’d seen him. He looked much more part of those walking past than Elijah.
“I was beginning to wonder if the address noted in your message was in error.”
Frost smiled knowingly, making Elijah wonder if he’d chosen to deliberately be late. “Traffic in this area leaves something to be desired, does it not?”
“What are we doing here?” He smothered the hope of Frost advising him to come and speak to Lillian. The viscount didn’t seem to have his sister on his mind. How disappointing.
Frost nodded toward a nearby building, and Elijah followed him to a wide doorway that allowed them to remain out of the way of those passing by. “You remember my mentioning Victor?”
“The lad who provides you with information.”
“He witnessed a delivery at Hurley’s building and followed the empty cart to this address. I thought it might be a good time to dig a bit deeper into what Hurley is up to.”
“Excellent notion.” Elijah studied the building but with no sign hanging above its door and no one walking in or out of the entrance, it was difficult to determine what form of business resided there. The store beside it had a sign that said, Ryker’s Apothecary, but the windows were so filthy, Elijah wasn’t certain it was still in business. “How do you suggest we proceed?”
Daring the Duke (The Seven Curses of London Book 7) Page 24