“This man broke your finger?” He could hear his own pulse in his eardrums.
“Yes. He threatened me for the first time a week ago. Yesterday, he returned and broke my finger.”
“Why is he blackmailing you?”
Tears welled in Sara’s eyes, although she kept them contained by what could only be sheer force of will. She turned her head and stared at the sideboard. “I think that is my business and not yours, Your Grace.”
Philip reached across the table and, with one finger on her jaw, turned her face to him. Those tears she’d contained finally spilled down her cheeks. He fought the need to pull her onto his lap and wrap his arms around her.
Her strength humbled him.
“I cannot help you if I don’t know everything,” he whispered.
Sara sighed and twisted her napkin again. She pulled her face away from his touch and glanced at her lap. “My husband was a gambler, apparently. He gambled when we were married and did not repay his debts. My attacker tells me…he tells me he’s killed him. They now expect me to pay what he owed.”
“Are you certain your husband is dead?” Philip’s mind flew. His first emotion was relief—if the baron was dead, Sara was a free woman. His next thought was that Caroline had likely been with the baron at the time of his death. Would she return to London? Would she attempt to return to Hearthstone Manor?
Sara nodded. “The man told me so.”
“Fine, then I will pay him whatever he wants. He will have no choice but to leave you alone.”
Sara jumped from her chair. “No! You mustn’t! He said if I told anyone, he would make me pay.” The fear in her eyes broke his heart.
“What could be worse than allowing him to break every bone in your body, Sara?”
Sara’s face turned red as she closed her eyes and turned her head away. “Please,” she whispered. “I could not bear what he threatened. Promise me you won’t do anything.”
Oh. The rage that had lit him up from within roared with renewed vigor. Death would not be punishment enough for such a man. But it wouldn’t do to react with rage just now—he knew what his mother would say; she needed sympathy. A soft hand.
“Ah, yes, I forget there are worse things for a woman. Pardon my insensitivity, but I will not promise you any such thing. The man will never touch you again.”
Philip observed the woman in front of him. His heart broke at the fear in her eyes. He wasn’t quite sure how he would accomplish it, but he would do everything in his power to protect her.
Philip stood and held his hand out to her. “Come, I will escort you home, Lady Downey.”
“Oh, but I must thank your mother for her assistance.”
He remained standing with his hand outstretched. “I will convey your appreciation. You probably would not want Emma to see you right now. I’ll take care of everything.”
Chapter Eleven
I’ll take care of everything.
Sara wanted to believe him. She’d never wanted anything more, but her hands trembled as she climbed into the carriage with the duke’s help. Stinky could be out there watching right now. What if he came back tonight?
A low, velvety voice cut into her thoughts. “I will not let him hurt you again.” The duke had taken the seat across from her, the better to hold her gaze.
“How can you say such a thing? I do not even know who he is. Why, he could be out there right now watching me.” Sara searched his blue eyes. The ice was gone, replaced by a tenderness she had never seen before.
Her heart skipped a beat.
“I will find out who he is. I have my ways. I will protect you.” He spoke with certainty.
When he looked at her like that, his blue eyes filled with intensity, she could almost believe him. She certainly wanted to believe him. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, warmth pooled between her thighs. She wondered what it would be like to kiss him.
Kissing had never been an especially pleasant event with her husband. His mouth had always covered hers roughly, leaving saliva over half her face. Somehow, she didn’t think it would feel the same with this man. He probably would not shove his tongue into her mouth far enough to gag her.
Of course, such a fine man would never, ever want to kiss her. Would he?
Philip reached over and held her gloved hand. “You don’t believe me,” he said, stroking her wrist at her pulse point.
Sara allowed the simple caress, but she kept her head bowed, her gaze averted to hide what her eyes might reveal. She let herself be entranced by his touch, permitting herself a moment’s pleasure before saying, “I don’t know what to believe anymore, but I cannot expect you to pay my husband’s debts. He has done enough to you…and I could never hope to repay you.”
The carriage arrived at her shop. The duke helped her down and unlocked the front door for her.
“Your Grace, I cannot thank you enough for your assistance.”
Sara turned to enter her shop, expecting him to just leave, but he gently pushed his way past her through the open door.
“If you don’t mind, I would like to look around first.”
Sara stood frozen in her front room, thankful that he was willing to do this for her, and listened as he opened doors. She heard his boots on the stairs up to her rooms. His footsteps descended the stairway a few moments later, followed by the sound of water being thrown out the back door. Oh, her tub. She had forgotten it.
He strode back into the front room.
“The lock on your back door was picked. That is how he got in. I will send a locksmith over to change your locks. You need something stronger. I don’t think anyone has been here in your absence. Nothing else seems to have been disturbed.”
She peered up at him nervously. “Thank you, but I cannot take up any more of your time.”
Philip stepped closer to her, pinning her with his gaze. “You live here instead of in a boardinghouse? May I ask why? Could this not be part of your problem?”
Sara dropped her gaze. “I have my reasons, Your Grace. I would appreciate it if you could recommend a good locksmith. I certainly can handle it myself. I would be happy to pay him a fair price for his work.” Her lower lip trembled slightly.
Philip grazed her cheek with the back of his hand. “He struck you here, didn’t he?”
Sara shivered at his warm touch. “No.”
“Your skin is red and raw.”
He was so gentle. Duncan had never touched her this tenderly, even when courting her. Philip stood close enough for her to catch his scent. She inhaled deeply before speaking again, as if she could draw some of his strength from his essence.
Turning her face away in embarrassment, she whispered. “He licked my cheek. I had to scrub it to feel clean again. Perhaps I was a bit excessive.”
“I am so sorry I could not protect you from him.” He ran his thumb across her lip and leaned down to brush his lips across hers. It lasted only seconds.
Shock and pleasure blasted through her, but she forced herself to take a small step back. “Please, Your Grace, I don’t need your pity.” Sara didn’t know what else to say. She certainly was not pretty, so he must feel sorry for her.
“Is that what you think this is? I assure you it is not.” He cupped her face and kissed her more deeply. His tongue mated with hers briefly, the effect so powerful Sara’s knees buckled. He caught her and pulled her in closer yet. His hard member pressed against her belly, and her eyes flew open as she pulled back.
He smiled a mischievous grin. “As I said, this is not about pity. I will return to check on you, Lady Downey. And now that I have tasted you, I hope I may call you Sara and you will call me Philip. Promise that you will contact me if you have any more problems?” He waited for her answer.
Sara didn’t know what else to do, so she nodded her head, swallowing hard.
The duke turned and left.
***
Sara went to work immediately on Emma’s pink gown. The locksmith came in the afternoon and changed bo
th locks. She had to admit, she felt safer. Although the locks would not keep a truly persistent intruder out, they were certainly better than what she’d had. She attempted to pay the man, but he declined adamantly.
There were no visitors that day. She finished Emma’s gown and started on one of the custom-made gowns Mary had commissioned. She chose a rich cinnamon color for her. The shade would complement her complexion quite nicely.
After hours of fitful sleep, she finally got up to work on some sketches. Stinky had left her paralyzed with fear, but she refused to give in. If she did, he would win. While she could not sleep as she liked, at least she was able to continue her work.
Mid-morning, while Sara sewed at her desk, she smiled as she thought of Mary, Philip’s dear mother, wearing this gown. She wondered if her own mother had been anything like the duchess. Setting aside her work for a moment, she opened her drawer and retrieved her mother’s beaded reticule. Running her fingers over the beads, several of which were missing, she thought of the wedding gown she’d designed to match the bag. A quick perusal of her sketchbook unearthed the design.
She’d never had a chance to make the gown of her dreams. Although she’d looked for the ivory beads she would need to fix the reticule and make the dress prior to her wedding to Duncan, they’d eluded her. After a month of searching, she’d declared it a lost cause. Without them, she could not make the perfect dress. Besides which Duncan, her husband-to-be, had refused to spend any money on a wedding, declaring such events to be wasteful and boring. He had convinced Sara and her father they needed to save the money in order to secure their financial success.
Now Sara realized he was only interested in his own coffers. He must have gambled that money away. No matter. She was glad her design had not been wasted on such a despicable man. A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. She crossed into her front room, looking outside to see who had knocked. A familiar face smiled back at her. Phoebe Davis, wife of the Earl of Ardleigh.
“Sara? Sara, is it really you?” Phoebe said. “I have been looking for you for months! When last I saw you, Duncan had just disappeared. The next time I came calling, you had left, and no one had any idea where you had gone.”
Sara opened the door and ran to her friend.
“Oh, it is so good to see you, Phoebe,” she said, hugging her without any thought to propriety. It was so wonderful to see a friendly face. She’d thought about going to Phoebe, sharing the full extent of her troubles, but the last thing she’d wanted was to seem desperate. It had struck her that the countess, or perhaps her husband, might think she was looking for charity. Besides which, her friend had been expecting at the time of Duncan’s disappearance. She hadn’t wanted to stress or worry her. Now, she wondered if she’d made a mistake. Her friend’s husband had been so kind to her at the wedding, and Phoebe seemed overjoyed to see her.
“Why didn’t you visit me?” her friend asked, pulling back to look at her. “I have been worried sick over you. I asked everyone about you. It wasn’t until my husband came home last week that I discovered where you were. He told me you had started your own business. Of course, my dearest Ardleigh then reminded me I’d been busy with our baby, so I was a little distracted. And I didn’t leave the house much while I was carrying either.”
Sara peered at her friend sheepishly. “Duncan sold the townhouse, just as he’d sold all of my father’s properties, but I discovered my father had hidden away some money for me. Although it would have allowed me to pay for lodgings for some time, I used it to open my dress shop. I did not think you would be interested in continuing our friendship.”
“Oh, poppycock, Sara Downey. You know I don’t care what the ton says. I have my own mind. All that matters to me is what my dear Ardleigh thinks, and he encouraged me to visit you today. Now, I’ve heard talk that the baron is dead. Is it true? Has the cad left you a widow?”
Sara nodded, a slight bowing of her head. In her mind, she heard Stinky say, “He died a slow painful death.”
Phoebe pulled her into another hug. “I am sorry. Not for him, mind you, the man treated you abominably. But you’ve dealt with quite enough trouble.” Pulling back, she smiled. “I must admit, I would love to see your shop, and for slightly selfish reasons. I remember admiring your sketches. What do you think would look nice on me?”
Phoebe had always known when to change the subject, and Sara was only too happy to oblige. She escorted her friend to the measuring station, and they chattered on in the same fashion as schoolgirls. Once they were finished, Sara showed her around the rest of the meager space. Her friend immediately noticed the sketchbook that lay open on the desk.
“Oh, Sara, this gown is divine. Have you made it for anyone yet?” Phoebe asked as she ran her finger down the page.
Sara shook her head. “If you like, I can make it for you. We can choose the fabric today.”
“I would love to see what you have. But wait. Isn’t that your mother’s reticule? You have kept it all this time?” Phoebe picked up the bag and ran her fingers carefully across the satin. “It is still beautiful after all these years, isn’t it? The missing beads don’t change that.”
Sara nodded. “Yes, it is. But I would still like to find beads that would match.”
“The other day, Ardleigh brought me to an accessories shop on the other side of town. It is a ways off, but the shopkeeper had some lovely beads. Would you care to go with me some time? We could certainly use my carriage. Perhaps on Thursday.”
“Oh, I would love that, Phoebe.” Sara clutched her hands to her chest.
“Gadzooks, Sara! What happened to your hand?” Phoebe exclaimed.
“Oh, ’tis a long story, one better suited for another day.” Sara turned to search for fabric in the hopes of distracting her friend.
“Well, you better be careful. You need a good man to look after you, not a halfwit like your late husband. I am sorry, but I never liked that man. Hmm…I have something new to think about. I love playing matchmaker.” She bounced her index finger on her lips as she gave the matter thought.
“Phoebe, I don’t need anyone. I am fine alone, please.”
“Forgive me for saying so, but it doesn’t look to me like you are fine alone. Do you feel all right? You are quite pale, Sara…and thin. Have you lost weight?” She paused for a while, then her mood brightened. “Why don’t you come and stay with me for a while? Business will wait for you. You just opened. You can’t have that many people waiting for you.”
Although the offer was tempting, the last thing she wanted to do was bring trouble to Phoebe’s doorstep. “On the contrary,” she said, “I have too much work to do. I am tired, but once I get adjusted to my new life, I will be fine. I would be happy to go shopping with you one morning, Phoebe, but that is the only free time I have. I have gowns I must prepare for your ball next weekend.”
“Oh, of course. You will come, Sara?” Phoebe grabbed Sara’s uninjured hand. “Please say you will come. Had I known you were here, you know I would have sent an invitation.”
“I don’t think so. I have too much work to do. Thank you for the invitation, but I must decline. Besides, I have nothing to wear. I am too busy sewing for others.” Sara glanced down at her own gown self-consciously. She hadn’t made herself a new gown in a very long time. Though her things had all been nice at one time, many of them were fading. At this point, everything was about putting money aside for Stinky. She must not forget about him.
“All right, if you insist. But I will be back to pick you up Thursday morning. I won’t take no for an answer, Lady Downey!” Phoebe gave Sara another quick hug and left with a swish of her skirts.
Sara sighed. How lucky Phoebe was. Her husband was the sweetest man. They were always touching and talking sweetly to each other, their love for each other clear in everything they did. Was it possible to enjoy the physical part of marriage? She had to admit, kissing Philip St. James had been a singular experience.
Once again, her imagination conjured u
p a different sort of marriage—one forged between two people who enjoyed each other’s company. If she were married to the duke, he’d touch her softly, like he’d done at breakfast. He’d ravage her mouth. He’d touch her even if they weren’t in the marriage bed.
Sara’s head drifted slowly to the table as she thought of that other life, that fantasy life, and she fell asleep dreaming about a duke reformed.
Chapter Twelve
Philip made a trip to town later that afternoon. He let himself into the private investigator’s place of business and barged straight into the office.
“What have you found out, Ridley?”
“Hell’s bells, Brentwood. Thanks for knocking.” Ridley sat up straight in his chair and stared at the duke.
“I need information. And for the money I am paying you, you’d better have some for me. Who is bothering Lady Downey?” He stood over the investigator’s desk, leaning toward him.
“Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to figure that out yet.” Ridley rested his arms on the desk. “But I will tell you what I do know.”
“Go ahead,” Philip said, exasperated. He’d have to get after Ardleigh to find him a better investigator. Unfortunately, Ridley was all he had at the moment.
“Lord Downey left to escape the loan sharks, true enough. He was in way over his head but couldn’t stop. He decided to skip town instead. Some think he went as far as France, but he was followed, and it’s said that he lost his life when he fell off his horse, breaking his neck, though I suspect that could be a tale created to hide the truth of his death.”
“Good enough. I care only that he’s dead, not how it happened. Tell me who he owes and I will pay him off.” Philip was satisfied. This situation would be easily resolved.
“Not so simple. There are several loan sharks in London, and no one wants to name his debtor. Some say he paid much of his debt down with the jewels he got from your wife. One red necklace in particular was worth a fortune. It’s a wonder they’re still after the dressmaker given all the jewelry your wife gave the man.” Ridley looked at him with a small smile on his face. “I do hope they weren’t heirlooms. They are mostly sitting in pawnshops from here to the coast. You were a generous man to your wife.”
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