Darkest Valentine

by Leona Bushman

  Robert threw a resentful glance at Clarence. “Not in front of our guest, Father. It’s bad enough you treat me like a child. My allowance is too small to keep up with the others of my rank.”

  This time, Lamberth paled as his son’s excuses continued. “Enough.” Then he turned to the duke. “I am sorry for my son’s disgraceful behavior. You can be assured that I will deal with him accordingly. How did she get home?”

  “That is something you will have to ask her. I left to send someone for my carriage and an appropriate chaperone for her, but when I came to tell her I’d found a solution for her, she’d left.” Good thing he was practiced in subterfuge.

  He watched Robert as he spoke. A sly smile slid across the brother’s face. Clarence slowly took off his gloves, purposeful, careful, as if preparing for a fist fight at his boxing club.

  Lamberth also saw his son’s byplay. “Why is that funny? Your sister could have been hurt or worse.”

  “I’m sorry, Father,” he said, but smirked.

  Clarence was about to take him by the lapels and shake the bastard, but then he looked up. Lillian, in pale pink, descended the stairs with grace and aplomb. His observances of her from a distance and under the lamplight hadn’t prepared him for the reality of her. He stood frozen to the spot, shocked at her beauty.

  Her blonde hair held all the colors of honey, from a rich light brown to a reddish gold, and everything in between. Currently, it lay in ringlets from something holding it near the top of her head. Her tight-fitting jacket showed off pert breasts that he became all too aware of, particularly when her father stood not five feet from him. The pink brought out her eyes which sparked mischief at him as she neared. Her appearance only solidified the plan he’d made on the way home last night.

  Lillian was strong and brave and intelligent with good instincts. His wife would have to be. His reputation as The Dark Duke was warranted. He would do whatever he could to convince her to make their fake engagement real.

  He strode toward her, hand held out. “Lillian. So good to see you safe and sound. I worried when you were left without the means home last night.” Hopefully, she’d catch on to the lie he’d told her father.

  She held her hand to his, and he raised it to his lips. “Of course. Hired hackneys just don’t compare to having one’s own coach, of course. Father, please, can I have my own carriage and a lady’s maid for the season? I very nearly had my reputation compromised.”

  She turned a begging pout to her father, who stood staring at her as if astounded at her coquettish request.

  Robert absolutely stared in shock, the pulse in his forehead standing out.

  “How are you here?” he demanded, then amended. “I thought you were out.”

  Clarence nearly growled in protection and need to seek immediate revenge. The man held no honor and would not be allowed alone with his sister again. He would see to it.

  “Obviously, she isn’t,” the earl intervened. “However, she will be soon. Lillian, yes, I will have you a carriage forthwith. A lady’s maid has already been hired for the season and starts tomorrow. Robert had asked to not have to be your chaperone this season, so I’d hired one. Well, I left the choice up to your mother.”

  Lillian went and kissed her father on the cheek. “Thank you, Father.”

  One less thing Clarence would need to demand, at least. Tea and scones arrived, and Clarence saw the earl’s embarrassment. “Everyone, move to the Green Room. So sorry, Your Grace. I promise you, our manners to guests are not usually so lackadaisical.”

  Clarence bowed his head. “Apology accepted.” He allowed Lillian to go first, then perched on the arm of the chair she sat in. He may as well have written a note declaring his intentions to court her. A charming blush stained her cheeks while Lamberth assessed him more closely.

  Then the countess arrived as the servant poured the tea and handed it to him. He took it, then stood to greet her. “Countess,” he said with a slight bow from the waist.

  She did a small curtsy and held her hand out. “Oh my. Duke Canterbury. We are so pleased—and surprised—to have you in our humble home.”

  “I have come to court Lillian,” he said. Then, over the gasps, including one from Lillian, he continued, “I trust there will be no issue with this plan.”

  And if there were, he’d see them silenced, one way or the other. After saving her last night, he felt an obligation to her safety. More, he wanted her for his wife, despite who her family was, and he held the cards to make her father comply, and that was before Robert’s treachery. Crossing him would not be wise for their financial future. His biggest obstacle lay in the lady herself. Would she hate him when she found out about his plan for revenge against her uncle? His visceral reaction to her surprised him, and he found he held no wish for her to leave him. He had to make it all work. Would she call off the engagement, ruined reputation or not, if he continued to seek his vengeance?

  Chapter Four

  The Dark Duke. She’d nearly squealed with excitement. The man who’d saved and whom she’d been explicably drawn to were one and the same? And now?

  The duke’s words washed over her. Relief, excitement, fear, all warred for supremacy. Though her situation was a little different than most women of her station, she’d worried about making it to her age of majority, but being under his protection, even if for a short time, would make it harder for her brother to get to her. Last night, she’d began to fall in love with him, envisioned him a hero, and had hoped he’d be at least as good looking as The Dark Duke.

  Maybe, she would not have to end the pretend engagement.

  All at once, fear for his safety from her brother shook her. Her brother stood at nearly six foot and was a dirty fighter. The duke’s title would be no protection from an amoral cad like Robert. Look what he’d done to his own sister. She held her hands tightly together in her lap, waiting for Father’s response.

  “I’m sorry, Your Grace. I am in talks with the Marquess of Oxford,” Father said, real regret in his voice.

  “Father! He’s ugly and stinks!” Not to mention that he’d deflowered Hermione after false promises of marriage. Her friend had acted the ninny and had believed the Marquess intentions. Fury filled her at the reminder. Hermione’s life was ruined because she’d believed the nobleman’s word. Of course, Father mustn’t know, or he’d forbid all contact with her friend Hermione.

  Horrified that Father might actually choose him over the man who’d saved her, she spoke with uncharacteristic bluntness. Normally, she kept her head down around Father and Robert. “He is not for me, Father.”

  “Lillian! He is rich, has a decent title, and offered for you. He is unlikely to have a problem with the unusual circumstances surrounding the bulk of your dowry.”

  That had stopped many a suitor, which didn’t bother her before. It meant she would have money for the rest of her life thanks to her maternal grandmother, who had left her an inheritance in trust as well as freedom. She sat as far back as her bustle allowed, deflated. But worse, she felt helpless. Father hadn’t even asked her if she was willing. It wasn’t the eighteenth century anymore. Why didn’t the duke mention the engagement now? She, of course, could not.

  Mother walked over, stood behind her chair and put a hand on her shoulder. Lillian blinked back tears. It suddenly hit her how many times Mother had stood up for her in her quiet manner. “Father, I do not want to marry him. I have money coming. I do not have to ever marry.”

  “You do if I say so. Money or not, you will be better protected if you are married.”

  “If I may,” the duke said in a voice which denoted authority.

  The Dark Duke was all well and good, but one should really know the name of the man one’s kissed and whose voice sends thrilling new sensations down one’s back before one does the kissing. It wasn’t often that she wished she could remember rumors, but now was one of them. Which lord was it whom had earned this moniker? Sarah had probably told her, but since she’d not planned
on marrying any of them, she’d paid little attention to such things. She needed to check the peerage. No wait, wasn’t it Canterbury?.

  Father looked at him expectantly, as did she.

  “The Marquess is not as well off as he pretends. Everything is leveraged. His father basically bankrupted the estates. He is salvaging things. However, he is not equipped to marry a woman whose fortunes cannot be used to save his estates.”

  Lillian held her breath and watched Father as he made his decision. Mayhap Father would listen to logic. She wished she’d had the information earlier. She might have used it to defend her friend.

  “I will not deter the Marquess,” Father finally said. “I will, however, let him know that there is competition for her hand. I will give you a month, Your Grace. No more. By then, the season will be in full swing and someone else who is slightly less of a blue stocking may catch his eye. I want Lillian taken care of.”

  Mortified, Lillian stared down at her hands. Mother squeezed her shoulder, and tears again threatened. Maybe the duke would back out before he’d even started their false engagement.

  Before she’d thought of an argument to change Father’s mind, the duke rose off the arm of the chair. “Lillian and I will take her maid with us for the drive. Come, Lillian.”

  She stood and put her arm in the crook of his elbow, admiring the strong jaw and red hair. “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “You may call me Clarence amongst the family, my dear.”

  The other’s gasped at his forwardness, but Lillian blushed in pleasure. That made two instances where he’d declared himself. It was practically an announcement in the Times. It also eased her mind about the shared adventure last night and their agreement. “Of course, my lord.”

  He raised his eyebrow to her, and she smiled back.

  “Clarence,” she corrected.

  He bowed to the room and pulled her along to the foyer.

  “Jacob, please have my maid prepare herself and meet me out front for an outing. Thank you.” Lillian spoke as if it were an everyday occurrence to be leaving with a beau, but normally, her outings consisted of clothes fittings and shopping for books. A giddy sense of excitement threaded through her normally staid attitude.

  Finally, someone who stood up to Father and made Robert stand down. And she had a proper name for the man she’d kissed in an alley. At least, part of one.

  Father strode out of the morning room, followed closely by Mother and Robert. “Janice is coming now, Father. We will be properly chaperoned. Also,” she continued and took a deep breath for fortification, “I will not marry the Marquess. I will do whatever it takes. Whether or no his lordship and I come to an agreement, the Marquess is not for me. I would rather be a spinster the rest of my life.”

  “You will do as I instruct, Lillian Della Lancaster.”

  She trembled, but hoped her grip on the duke hid it. Never had she openly defied her family, but she would not go with a man who held no honor and had ruined her friend. “No, Father, I will not. I will run away before marrying one such as he.”

  She suppressed the guilt over the betrayed look upon Father’s face. He had to understand she was serious. It frustrated her that society’s rigid code meant she could not tell him the whole of it. He’d never stand for it, or worse, blame her innocent friend who thought she was giving liberties to her betrothed, though that had turned out false.

  Clarence put his hand over hers. “She will not have to run away. I will help her—whether or not we decide we are compatible. You will not cross me on this.”

  A surge of gratefulness swamped her so hard, she became lightheaded and leaned into Clarence for help in keeping her balance. Father sputtered, and Robert shouted out obscenities, but before they could do anything, Janice arrived.

  “Good day, Father, Mother.” Lillian gave a regal nod of dismissal, completely ignoring Robert.

  Only Mother looked happy about these turn of events, but Lillian felt immeasurably stronger. After all the years of not having a voice, she liked this speaking up for herself. Without the duke, she might not have found her courage to do so.

  They moved to the carriage. Clarence sat across from her, the maid next to her. They rode in silence for the first while. She took the opportunity to really study him. His red hair, impeccably styled, was not the usual found among the ton, but she found it attractive. His blue eyes seemed to see right through her, as if they’d known each other for years. His frock coat and Cossack trousers were tailored as one would expect from a man of his station. Finally, Lillian spoke up.

  “Thank you for standing up to Father for me. No one really has before.”

  “You are officially under my protection as of last night.”

  Tongue tied, she suddenly became nervous. Lillian glanced over at Janice, whom she’d told the barest bones of the story, though she’d withheld the part about the engagement. Then it hit her. “This is not the same coach,” she observed. “The interior seems a lighter color, there are windows on the side, and the ride smoother. Or perhaps, it is because I am not as distraught?”

  “No, you are quite right. It would not do to have my official ducal carriage at the docks at night. One does not know whom might be around with untoward intentions.” He gave her a meaningful look.

  “No, I suppose one would not.” She floundered.

  His answer brought up so many questions.

  “We know why and how I ended up there,” she began, again terrified at the thought of what could have awaited her. Beyond her imagining, likely. She shuddered in remembered fear. “Thanks again for saving me from my brother’s scheme. However, I cannot fathom what a man of your stature was doing at the docks at night.”

  “I have many shipping interests,” came his answer.

  One which displeased her.

  After last night and his defense of her, she would have thought he trusted her more. Then she glanced over at Janice, demurely sitting as if she did not hear a word. But of course, she did. Mayhap, if she told him more, he would understand he could trust them. “Janice and I have shared…many things.”

  She glanced at her maid and asked with her eyes if it was okay to share the details. Janice’s eyes clouded over, but she nodded her permission.

  Lillian held a silent battle within herself. To lay bare her family’s shame or not? Then again, he already could ruin her, so what did she have to lose?

  “Father’s family is…well, there are some who say that there is a cruel streak in it. I believe Robert has it. Father, though overbearing, is not cruel. That may be due in part to Mother’s influence.” She held her breath for a moment then let it out slowly. When she’d started talking about Father’s family, Clarence had come to attention. The signs were subtle—his jaw tensed, his shoulders straightened almost imperceptibly, and he leaned forward slightly—but she clearly noticed them.

  “As a young girl, about twelve, I came upon my uncle Jarvis attacking Janice. I hit him with all my might. My whole life, he’d hit me, pinched me, one time dragging me by my arm and threatening to kill Father if I told. Seeing him hurt another put me into a rage of pent up emotions. He only laughed at me until my hard boots connected with…” She blushed.

  Despite their unorthodox beginning, she was not comfortable speaking of such things to him.

  “He yelled at me, slapped my face, then left. I went to Janice who was sobbing with her bodice and jacket torn and hugged her. At the time, I did not understand what that meant. Later…” Her heart constricted, and she stared at her hands, needing a moment. He stayed silent, but when she looked up, she saw compassion in his gaze, not judgment. It gave her the courage to go on.

  “We never told anyone. Every time my uncle showed up, I tried to leave with Janice to do shopping or visiting. She has had to double as my companion, which I have used as the excuse to have her out of the house when Jarvis arrived.” She swallowed. Here was the hard part, and really, the reason she’d been more understanding of Hermione’s plight, despite what oth
ers would think of her and the risk to her reputation by association.

  “My lord, if I may speak?” Janice said into the silence.

  Lillian grabbed her hand and held it.

  Clarence nodded, still not speaking, but the tendons in his neck stood out.

  “Lillian is a pure soul. She is not like the others of her station, only concerned with appearances. Even as a young child, she held compassion and a fierce protectiveness of those who fell under her care, like us servants. Please, I beg of you, do not judge her by others. I know I risk being put out for this, but she has saved me from a dire fate worse than being in the streets.”

  Janice’s defense of her brought tears to her eyes. She’d grown up with Janice next to her, playing with her until they were told they could not play together any longer.

  “Janice, you are brave to stand up to The Dark Duke.” Lillian shot her gaze to his face, but it could have been made of stone for all the emotion on it.

  Janice paled. “I knew it was you,” she whispered. “Doesn’t matter. Lillian deserves someone to protect her as she has done others all her life, no matter what happens to me.”

  “If you are ever discharged from the Earl of Lamberth’s service, come see my housekeeper. You have a job there. Such loyalty can’t be bought.”

  Lillian’s heart swelled. Janice covered her face, and a small sob left her, so Lillian continued her story to give her a minute to collect herself.

  “Two summers ago, just after my introduction to the queen, my parents held a house party in celebration. Jarvis, obviously, was there. He kept crowding me into corners. Then he…” God in heaven, how could she admit this to anyone, much less a powerful lord?

  She calmed her breathing. She must. He had expressed his intentions to her, and, since he’d saved her last night, he deserved to know what he was getting in to. She owed him that much. She stared to the side, needing a minute.

  “Lillian,” he said gently. “You can tell me anything.”