His father to be precise.
The rest she could blame on her mother and older sister, Tessa.
And she supposed she should take a small portion of culpability. Not that she’d done much, other than rejecting a viscount, and lately, a gentleman’s proposal. Most people just thought of her as the plain Drake sister who tended to stumble at inopportune times and who preferred books to people. Few knew of her friendship with the marquess, which would be considered unacceptable for an unmarried woman. These same small-minded people would never comprehend how a man and woman could be simply friends.
As the drive curved, she faced the arctic wind again. Her teeth chattered. “Damn you, Harry!”
She was truly ready to kill Harry for choosing to mourn his wife at his estate in Northumbria. The ducal estate in Worth was far closer to London and much easier to reach in winter.
After spending two days in a bumpy, cramped, and cold stagecoach, she arrived in the small village of Kirknewton two hours ago only to be told it was over two miles to the estate. Since the snow had just started, she assumed she would have plenty of time to reach Northwood Park before the storm worsened. Immediately after she left the village, the snow began to fall heavier, and the wind increased. Several inches had now reached the ground, making her trek miserable.
She should have stayed at the inn while she visited to prevent any scandalous talk should someone discover them. But the price of the coach, bribing a woman to pretend to be her aunt, and the meals on the journey had only left her enough money for the return trip. Surely Harry wouldn’t mind her staying with him. It was the end of December. Who would be traveling this far north?
Concentrating on the approaching manor, she tripped over something, landing face first in the cold, wet snow. She released a scream of frustration as she rose and brushed the frigid flakes off her face, hair, and cloak. This day could not get any worse. Her clothes were damp, her hair half out of her coiffure, and there was the ever-increasing possibility that she would freeze to death.
Maybe storming out of her sister’s house on Christmas Day without a solid plan in mind hadn’t been her best course of action. She should have considered every detail, especially the cost involved, the weather in the north, and the possible damage to her reputation.
But did she do that?
Of course not! That would have been far too sensible. No wonder she hadn’t found a husband yet. She was foolish and impulsive and...and...almost frozen for it.
With weak legs, she took her final steps to the large wooden door and lifted the knocker. The brass handle fell out of her icy hand and banged against the door. An eternity passed before an imposing older man opened the door and stared down his large straight nose at her.
“Deliveries should be taken to the side door,” he said in a voice as cold as the blowing snow. “And no, we have no need for extra servants at this time.”
“I am here to see Lord Lang...excuse me, the...His Grace.” She would never feel comfortable using that honorific.
“For what purpose, madam?”
Tears welled in her eyes, but she brushed them away in fear they would freeze her eyelids shut. “Please just let me in,” she begged.
“Oh, very well,” he replied, opening the door further for her. “Please do not drip all over the floors. The maids just finished in here.”
She wanted to ask him where she should drip but didn’t wish to antagonize the man, afraid he would boot her out. “Could you please let His Grace know that Miss Louisa Drake is here?”
“Alone?” he questioned.
“Yes, alone!” Was the man blind as well as arrogant?
“Of course, Miss Drake.”
He walked away, leaving her sodden and cold in the hall. How dare that man not even bring her to a salon! She hugged herself to warm up, but the cold had invaded her entire body. Her teeth started to chatter again, and she wondered how long her legs would hold her. Intent on finding a fire, she walked down the hall until she found a small salon with a cheery fire burning.
“Thank God,” she whispered as she entered the room.
That dratted butler hadn’t even taken her wet wool cloak from her. She let the cloak drop to the floor. Her only thought was to get as close to the fire as possible. The heat beckoned her like a moth to candlelight.
She shifted a large, burgundy wingback chair closer to the blaze and then sat to wait for Harry. Finally, warmth seeped into her, making her sleepy. She rested her head in the crook of the chair as her eyelids became heavy. Her head jerked back as she realized she’d been nodding off. She couldn’t let that happen.
Forcing herself to rise, she walked closer to the fire. But the chair summoned her to return to its soft comfort. Louisa lightly slapped her face to keep awake. What was taking the blasted butler so long? He should have offered her tea. Or brandy. Something to pass the time while she waited for Harry.
Her nerves tingled with anticipation. Harry would be so happy to see her again.
“MISS DRAKE?” HARRY asked in confusion. “Miss Louisa Drake?”
He repeated his butler’s announcement for clarification. Jenkins must have told him the wrong name since Harry was quite certain Louisa could not be here. In his home. In Northumbria. Her being here made no sense at all.
“Yes, Your Grace. The young woman is dreadfully disheveled and arrived on foot with no companion or chaperone. She does not look like a lady at all. Shall I send her on?”
“No.” What the bloody hell was Louisa doing out here alone? Something dreadful must have happened, but with her family, that was hardly unusual. “Did she say why she had arrived unannounced and without a chaperone?”
“No, Your Grace.”
Louisa had always been a brash young woman, but this must be important if she so boldly defied convention to visit him. The last time he’d seen her was at the small dinner party his father had held in Harry’s honor. The night his wife died. The night he should have been paying attention to his father’s actions, not stealing glances at Louisa.
The wind howled around the corners of the house, reminding him of the raging storm. He clutched the arms of the chair, his knuckles turning white. She would have to stay here for at least the night.
Louisa Drake in his home.
Alone.
Rubbing his temples against the painful guilt, he sighed. Louisa had changed him and made him a better man. How could he face her after what he’d done? After what his father had done to her sister?
He would never have left England if not for her. He would never have been forced to marry. She might not know what happened in India, but in many respects, he blamed her.
It always came back to Louisa.
Guilt turned to resentment. Irritation that she had the nerve to show up at his home. Anger that she’d been naïve not to see how he felt about her six years ago. Fury that she turned his life upside down.
“I will see her,” he said in a low tone.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Get a bedchamber readied for her. This storm is getting worse.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is she in the receiving salon?”
A blotchy red color saturated the cheeks of Jenkins’ pale face. “She was dripping from the snow. I left her in the hall until I knew if you would see her.”
No more than she deserved. Harry clenched his fists. His conscience railed at him to do the right thing. “Put her in the salon and get a fire started. I shall be down presently.”
As his butler left, Harry shook his head. The man looked down on anyone below the rank of viscount, assuming they were not good enough to speak with the duke. He rose from the chair in his bedchamber and went to the mirror.
Seeing how badly Charlotte had mangled his cravat this afternoon made his lips turn downward. Bloody hell, how would he keep Louisa from discovering Charlotte? It was only for the night. By morning, Louisa—and the memories of the past—would be gone.
He stroked the short beard coveri
ng his face and wondered if he should wait to greet Louisa after shaving. He shrugged. She had interrupted his holidays, so she could bear to see him in his disheveled state.
Walking down the black marble stairs, he again thought that her being here would bring back memories he’d tried so hard to suppress. As he reached the last step, he noticed Jenkins looking around as if he’d lost something, or perhaps someone. “Did you misplace her, Jenkins?”
“I left her right here, Your Grace,” he said, pointing to a particularly wet spot. “Her bag is still here.”
“Did you check the receiving salon?”
“I was about to, sir.”
“I will check myself. Make certain Miss Drake did not leave due to your lack of hospitality.”
Perhaps she’d realized her mistake in coming here and hastily departed. As if to remind Harry of his unwelcoming thoughts, the wind howled outside. Striding down the hall, his anger at her returned. No matter how important, she should have written to him. There was no reason for her to put her health at risk by traveling during a blizzard.
He walked into the silent receiving room and thought it empty until he heard a soft sigh. Then he spied the black wool cloak on the floor. Stepping toward the wingback chair by the fire, relief washed over him.
Louisa Drake sat in his favorite chair with her eyes closed and her full pink lips slightly parted. Her chestnut hair had fallen out of its chignon, and dark brown tendrils clung to her lightly freckled cheeks.
When they first met, she’d only been seventeen and still had a slight fullness to her face. That roundness had disappeared over the years, exposing high cheekbones on a heart-shaped face. He’d always been fascinated by the soft angles of her face, and even now, he couldn’t look away.
“What have you done now, Louisa?” The enormity of her actions caused him to drop into the chair next to her. Any other woman of her station would know how improper it might appear if someone discovered her at his home without a chaperone.
“Did you find her, sir?” Jenkins asked in a hopeful tone from the threshold.
“Yes,” he whispered. “Have the maids open the rose room and ask Mrs. Raney for a maid to assist her. And tea, Jenkins. She will need tea to warm up.”
“Of course.”
For a few moments, Harry just stared at her. What could be so damned important that she would risk her reputation to see him? Of course, she’d never been overly concerned with her name. There were numerous times they had almost been caught on the terrace of someone’s house instead of being in the ballroom. Not that they’d been doing anything but talking.
That was all she’d ever wanted from him.
A long sigh escaped his lips. Everything was different now. He was the Duke of Worthington. The responsibility of the estates, Charlotte, the tenants, and so much more, all fell on him. He could no longer be the irresponsible young man she knew so many years ago.
And as a responsible adult, he needed to see to her safety and comfort. No matter how annoyed he may be with her foolish actions. He rose and glared down at her.
“Louisa, you need to awaken,” he snapped.
She slowly opened her eyes and then frowned. “Harry? Is that you?”
“Yes.”
She smiled up at him. “You look so different.”
“It’s been two years,” he replied with a frown tugging his lips. “And we barely saw each other then. Why are you here, Louisa?”
“Must we do this now? I would like to change into something dry.”
The poor girl was cold and wet, and he was demanding answers that could wait until she had changed. “As you wish. Do you need me to carry you?”
She brushed away his hands. “If I can walk two miles in a snowstorm, I can manage a few steps to a bedchamber.”
“Of course you can.” Always the independent one.
“I am so sorry to intrude.” She stared up at him with bright blue eyes. “I hadn’t counted on a storm...or the costs at the inns,” she mumbled the last bit.
Perhaps she hadn’t thought to stay more than the night. But where was she off to then? His mind swirled with questions, all of which would now have to wait until later.
She rose to her full height, which at just over five and a half feet was tall compared to most women, but he still towered over her. While always slender, she appeared even thinner than he recollected. Perhaps it was her bedraggled state, but he never remembered her looking so fragile.
“Come along, I had a room made up for you.”
“And a bath?” she asked with a glimmer of hope in her eyes.
“Of course.”
“Your Grace, you have more callers,” Jenkins said, entering the room. Remembering his duties, he retrieved Louisa’s cloak from the floor. “Lord and Lady Gringham, sir. They don’t believe they can make the two miles to Kirknewton.”
“Bloody hell, when did I start running an inn?” Harry glanced down at Louisa, who had the sense to look dismayed.
“Lady Gringham is a dreadful gossip,” she whispered.
“I suppose you should have thought about that before arriving at my home unchaperoned.”
Her eyes widened in apparent shock at his tone. What did she expect? He clenched his fists in frustration. “Jenkins, show them into the main salon while I see to Miss Drake.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Before Jenkins could bow to him, the heavy footsteps of the Gringhams approached.
“There you are, Your Grace.” Lady Gringham entered the room like a whirlwind. She stopped short at the sight of Louisa. “Miss Drake, what are you doing here?”
“The storm, of course, Lady Gringham. I assume you had the same difficulty. Like you, I only just arrived.”
Lady Gringham pursed her lips as she scrutinized Louisa’s attire. “Yes, we did have the same problem.”
Harry glanced over at Jenkins. “Ready a room in the east wing for the Gringhams, Jenkins.”
“I did as soon as they arrived, sir.”
“Excellent.” Harry clenched his fists in frustration. Having already seen Louisa, there was no telling what the countess might decide to say to people. He had to think of a way to prevent the linking of their names.
“Your Grace, I do believe I shall retire to my rooms for a bath and rest before supper,” Louisa said.
“As you wish, Miss Drake. We shall dine at six.” He gave a quick nod to Jenkins.
“Follow me, Miss Drake,” Jenkins said before turning toward the Gringhams. “I shall see if your rooms are prepared. Would you also like a bath readied?”
“No, thank you,” Lord Gringham replied. “Just warm water in the basin will be enough.”
“Of course, sir.”
Once Louisa was out of earshot, Lady Gringham spoke out. “How dare that little upstart arrive here unannounced. And unescorted?”
Unescorted? Lady Gringham could not know about that. “She has a companion.”
Lady Gringham seemed a bit deflated with that news. “Oh.”
“Your rooms are ready, my lord,” Jenkins announced from the threshold. “Please follow me.”
Bloody hell, Lady Gringham might make his life miserable. A companion? What made him blurt out that lie? Now he would need to invent a chaperone for her. He had to speak with Louisa before she contradicted him to Lady Gringham.
As soon as the footmen settled the Gringhams into their rooms, he walked up the stairs. He glanced down the east wing hall. Seeing no one lurking about, he turned left toward the west wing. He rapped on the door.
“Lou...Miss Drake, I must speak with you at once.”
The door opened, and a petite maid stood there with a slight frown. “Your Grace, Miss Drake is still in her bath. She’s had an exhausting day.”
“You are?”
“Lily, Your Grace,” she said with a quick curtsy. “Mrs. Raney asked me to assist the lady with her bath. As the lady is bathing, you must return later.”
This was one of the few times Harry wished he had a
better ducal glare to put the brash maid in her place. “Put the screen in front of the tub and leave us,” he said in a firm tone. “If you wish to keep your position here.”
Lily swallowed and nodded as she slowly closed the door. “Of course, Your Grace. Give me one moment.”
The sound of angry whispers behind the door intrigued him. “Louisa, I am coming in whether you wish to speak with me or not.”
With that, he opened the door just as Lily placed the screen in front of her.
“Leave us,” he commanded.
Lily glanced at the screen and then him before saying, “Yes, sir.”
“Why did you dismiss Lily? I need her to dress for supper.” Louisa’s husky voice sounded from behind the screen.
“Lady Gringham noticed you seemed to have no chaperone or companion with you.”
“Oh, dear, I was afraid of that.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at the peacock design on the oriental silkscreen. For a moment, he wondered what Louisa looked like naked. Her breasts would be full but barely a handful for him. Her nipples would be the color of a pale rose in bloom. Damnation! He could not think of her in this manner. She wasn’t supposed to be here.
Frustration crept over him again. She had finally come to him, but now it was too late.
“I told her you had a companion.”
A dark silence stretched across the room. Even the occasional splash of water from the tub had quieted. “Why would you do such a thing?”
“What would you have had me say?” he asked harshly.
“Nothing without conferring with me first,” she replied sharply. “Now she will be suspicious of every move I make.”
“Which is why you must dine here tonight. I will inform the Gringhams you were tired from the trip and took a tray in your room.”
“You obviously do not know Lady Gringham all that well. If I do not attend supper, that will only make matters worse. Lady Gringham will believe we are trying to hide something from her.”
“We are.”
A long sigh emanated from the tub. “And if you sequester me away, she will believe the worst.”
A Deal with a Duke (The Daring Drake Sisters, #2) Page 2