Chapter 10
The following morning, Elsie wound her way through the same corridors she’d traveled the night before.
When Elsie had set her terms last evening for William, she’d expected him to flatly reject each one. And after their embrace, she’d wanted him to send her packing because he’d unsettled her in ways she’d never been. She’d been so sure he would.
A scoundrel who drank too much and bedded scandalous women—several at the same time—was not one who’d willingly give up those pursuits. Nor was a duke, and leader within a powerful, secret organization, one to take orders, and from a woman, no less.
Or that was what she’d believed.
With every meeting, and every turn, he unbalanced her, and she was left more and more unsteady within a household where it would be dangerous to let her guard down.
He’d craved Bear’s company. When all the noblemen who’d come to her cottage had either sneered or ordered the dog to another room or outside, William had freely stroked the dog’s matted back. He would, of course, see asking Bear to stay with him as a humbling request. His flushed cheeks had bespoken the embarrassment he’d felt in asking, and yet… he’d asked.
Never trust a man who doesn’t love an animal, her father had warned.
But what level of trust did one have in a man whose business centered around secrets and bringing men—and women—down?
Click-click-click-click.
Heart racing, she searched for the source of the rapidly approaching sound.
Relief went through her as Bear bound over to her.
Elsie immediately dropped to her knees and hugged his familiar body weight. “Did you have a good night?” she murmured against his ear. His rough tongue lapped at her ear.
Last night had marked the first that she and Bear had been apart in the whole of their lives together. He, however, had seemed far more comfortable with the prospect of sleeping with a stranger. A dark stranger who Elsie had kissed.
A shiver prickled down her spine. You’re a fool to be so trusting. You’re walking into the same trap your father did. Elsie’s senses went on alert. And here she’d been so awestruck by the fact that William had requested the presence of her dog. Why, either one of them could have been harmed last evening for that carelessness. She quickly pushed to her feet.
She glanced about, touching her gaze on every corner. The hum of silence served as her only company. At least that you know of.
Bear, in his customary spot alongside her, eased some of the anxiety that came in being among the men in this organization once again.
Hugging the wall, she resumed walking, increasing her stride as she went.
Yes, she’d be a fool to wholeheartedly trust that they still wouldn’t destroy her on a whim. People such as she and her father were expendable. The world took what it needed, and when their perceived use had been met, they were cast out.
It is why you are a fool for being here.
The taunt pinged around her mind. The Brethren had taken years upon years of her father’s services and skills and then killed him. And still she’d come for their leader. Because despite their betrayal, Papa had first and foremost insisted that he and Elsie, where able, helped those in need.
She’d come, but she needn’t be the same naïve fool she and Papa had been five years ago. The leader of that hated organization had shown some affection for her dog, and she’d let her guard down because of it.
Never again.
She’d come because of the lessons ingrained in her by her father.
And that was why she now found herself here with William. A gentleman who asked—nay, demanded—her assistance, but who did not even remember her father. The man who’d given his services, all hours of the evening, bringing men on the brink of death back to the living, and William did not even recognize Elsie as Francis Allenby’s daughter.
And why should he recognize you when he did not seem to remember the doctor who’d been so very vital to Crown business?
How many times had she heard that very word uttered by those within the Brethren, as rote as the knock they’d rapped at her family’s cottage door?
“Vital,” she whispered, her voice catching. They’d repaid that vitality with a dagger to the chest. Those were the pieces she’d be wise to remember about William Helling, the Duke of Aubrey.
Oh, God.
Elsie stumbled to a stop. The familiar hatred, pain, and regret roared to life within her, filling every corner of her being with an icy cold. She called herself a pathetic fool for not having held tight enough to those sentiments since she’d arrived here. And I kissed him. A man who’d only existed as the enemy. It’s why she’d fought all remembrance of that embrace. Elsie squeezed her eyes shut and laid her back against the wall, taking support from it.
For the truth was, though neither William, nor Lord Edward, nor miserable Bennett had thrust that blade repeatedly into her father’s chest until he’d choked on his own blood, they might as well have landed the death blows all the same.
Do not think of it… Do not think of it…
Not here. Not now.
Focus on leaving. Focus on fleeing this place…
A panicky half laugh, half sob stuck in her throat. He’d never let her leave. She was as trapped as her father had been. It was her inevitable fate to fall as Papa had. With his pure heart, he’d inadvertently tied them to the devil, and there could be no severing the connections.
Elsie smacked the back of her head against the wall, over and over.
Do not let the memories in…
Except the dam opened up, as it inevitably did, and sucked her into a past that could never be buried. One that would forever haunt her. Elsie’s breath came in frantic, ragged spurts, rasping loud in her ears. It blended with the hideous gurgling as her father had struggled to make words.
Whimpering, she clamped her hands over her ears in a bid to blot out the sounds.
Always remember who we are, p-poppet… We…
“Help,” she rasped.
Bear whined forlornly.
“Elsie?”
Elsie’s eyes flew open. Elsie? Her name. Spoken by only one another. Papa.
Disoriented, she darted her gaze frantically about, searching.
And finding him.
Not her father. Of course. He’d been dead five years now, cut down in the most brutal of ways.
But rather, another man stood before her.
Framed in a doorway five or so paces ahead, William stared back. Even with the space between them, she detected the unexpected flash of concern there.
Reality came rushing back in a noisy whir.
Elsie jumped away from the wall. “William,” she greeted in even tones. How was her voice so steady? How, when the memories had come… and William, the Duke of Aubrey and leader within the Brethren, stood opposite her? “Hello,” she said quickly, her voice echoing around the wide halls.
William’s black eyebrows dipped.
She coughed into her fist. “That is, I’d been calling out hello.” She proffered the lie easily and searched for some indication that he sensed the mistruth.
His expression, however, remained a careful, carved mask. “You are late.”
She was? Elsie rushed forward, and Bear sprang into step beside her. “Impossible. I’m—” William drew out a gold timepiece, popped the lid open, and dangled it before her. “Late,” she breathed. For any appointment she’d had, for any villager who’d summoned her to tend wounded animals, Elsie had been unfailingly punctual. Timing mattered. The loss of crucial minutes had the potential to see a creature forever scarred, or dead. That principle had guided her life.
“I’ll not sack you.”
Why… why… was he jesting?
She craned her head back, searching for some hint of mirth and ultimately finding his face still threateningly blank. Had he seen her lie for the falsehood it was moments ago? The heated intensity of his piercing eyes bespoke a man who would not miss those details.
Nay, he’d be wholly attuned to matters and exchanges directly affecting him.
It is the lives of those around him that don’t merit a like focus.
Without verifying whether she followed, without even issuing the command, William entered the breakfast room through the wide doorway.
Elsie stared at the entranceway and let the war within her rage. Could she remain here in the Duke of Aubrey’s household? Her resentment, her bitterness would always be there. And where her father had been good and honorable, Elsie did not possess such goodness where she could so easily set aside those sentiments and forget the injustices done to her and Papa.
She chewed at her lower lip. There was, however, one certainty: Whichever decision she came to, she had to commit to that course. One of the many gifts she’d learned under her father’s tutelage had been decisiveness. She either had to acknowledge that her resentments ran too deep to ever properly help William. Or, she had to separate those emotions from her logic and evaluate William as she had every patient before him.
Bear butted her hand with the top of his head.
“I can’t,” she whispered. Whether she proved a disappointment to her father’s memory and made a disgrace of the most important lessons he’d passed down, she could not do this.
Bear nudged her again.
Elsie closed her eyes. No.
We help, Elsie … We…
“Help,” she silently mouthed. When she opened her eyes, she drew in a breath. It was but three weeks. Where she was able, she would help William and then be free of him and the Brethren.
“Very well.” She spoke in barely audible tones for Bear’s benefit. Smoothing her palms down her skirts, she nodded.
With a spring in his usually now slow step, her dog sprinted into the breakfast room.
She stared after him a moment, trying to puzzle through the inexplicable loyalty he showed at every turn for the man who owned this household. Pulling her shoulders back, she joined Bear… and William.
He remained standing behind a chair placed at the right-hand head of the table. The enormous piece, with no fewer than forty seats, was longer than the length of her entire cottage. With silver candelabras with new wax candles, the table setting was fit for royalty and certainly not for a simple country doctor’s daughter.
Elsie forced herself to continue. A servant came forward to pull out her chair. She held up a staying hand. “Thank you. I have it.” What manner of world was this in which even the simplest task was carried out for one? She glanced around at the small army of crimson-and-gold-clad servants stationed around the breakfast room. Since she was a small girl, Elsie had conducted work within their modest cottage, cared for the animals in their stables, and assisted her father with any of the medical procedures as he’d required it. This extravagant show was foreign to all she had ever known.
“Do you intend to sit?” William’s voice echoed off the walls in a reminder of how very barren this palacelike space was.
Elsie’s cheeks warmed at being caught gawking like a country miss. “I’d ask you to dismiss the servants.”
Throughout the room, the footmen cast sideways looks at one another.
William frowned. “And why would that be?” The lethal edge there sent shivers up and down her spine.
For the first time, she looked at the servants. Really looked at them. Nearly as tall as, or the same height as the duke, the footmen also possessed muscles that strained the fabric of their uniforms. It was both their form and their gazes. Their eyes were life-hardened. Cold. Unforgiving. She hunched her shoulders protectively. These were no servants. It was an unnecessary reminder of the perilous world she’d allowed herself to be drawn back into. Elsie dropped her voice to a hushed whisper as she spoke. “The sole purpose in my being here is to assist with your injury. I trust that is information you would rather not be shared publicly with your… servants.” She’d have him know that she saw more than he credited her for and was not one to be underestimated.
His black brows dipped a fraction. He’d of course detected the slight emphasis she’d placed on the latter word. Elsie brought her chin up.
After an endless unraveling of time, William gave a slight nod.
The dozen footmen stationed throughout the room instantly fell into a neat line and filed out with an efficiency that Nelson’s troops likely couldn’t muster.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind the last servant, William reached past her.
She stiffened, but he merely took the back of her chair and dragged the seat out. “I trust there is nothing else you require before you begin your… services?” he asked, coldly mocking.
Elsie searched for a hint of the vulnerable man from last evening who’d sought comfort in Bear’s presence… and found none. She might as well have imagined the entire exchange. And this was far easier. Far safer. Seeing William as only a cold, empty-hearted stranger was vastly easier than looking upon him as one who appreciated an old dog like Bear.
Elsie stared pointedly at his hands until he drew them back. She waited, continuing that silent battle. With stiff, reluctant movements, he capitulated first, reclaiming the chair he’d vacated.
After he’d seated himself, Elsie slid into the folds of the thronelike, velvet-upholstered mahogany chair and brought herself closer to the table. “You’d call into question my abilities before you even truly allow me to assess you,” she noted, settling into the surprisingly comfortable carved piece. “And yet”—she dropped her arm atop the table and rested her chin in her hand—“you insist I remain. Why is that, William?”
A muscle in his jaw jumped. “The same reason I requested Bear stay with me last evening. Because I am bored.”
Not your dog. But rather, Bear. “I don’t believe that,” she said without missing a beat.
William matched her body’s positioning, framing his jaw with the palm of his hand, stabilizing it as he spoke. “You speak with a good deal of confidence, Miss Allenby.”
She was Miss Allenby when he sought boundaries. Elsie studied him contemplatively. William Helling was a leader within the Home Office and yet transparent in so many ways. “If you were bored,” she said softly, “you’d not be shut away indoors.”
“I have plenty to keep me amused and enthralled within doors.” He curved his lips up into a wicked grin. “Or I did.”
She pushed her chair back and stood. “Do you mean the whores?” His cheeks flushed red. “Or the drinking?”
William yanked at his cravat and eyed the door for a moment. Was he thinking about escape? Looking for help from his servants? Either way, good. The miserable bugger.
Elsie laid her palms on the edge of the table and leaned over him. “If you think to disconcert me with talk of your previously scandalous lifestyle, you are destined to be disappointed,” she informed him. He tilted his head back, and she braced for the fire in a furious gaze.
Heat spilled from within the fathomless depths of his eyes. Volatile. Alive. And there was certainly not anger there, but some unidentified, but equally dangerous, sentiment.
Elsie drew back quickly and rushed to the buffet. A vast array of breads had been neatly laid out: hot rolls, cold breads, honey cake, morning cake. The generous offering of quality wheat was so vastly different from the half-penny loaf those like her and her late father had eaten. Giving her head a shake, she regained her bearing and filled two plates. Next, she added a small porcelain dish of baked eggs to William’s selections. Plates balanced in her hands, she carried them over and set hers down first. She held the other out.
William eyed it in puzzlement.
She waved it under his nose. “You take it,” she said gently, without recrimination. Because he’d been born and bred to a position of power, it was hardly his fault that such mundane tasks should escape him.
He swiftly caught the dish and lowered it before him.
Elsie snapped her skirts and settled into her chair. Humming to herself, she made a show of gathering her serviette and laying it upon her lap.
So it began.