Chapter 12
William paced the floor of his chambers.
You deserve to share whatever holds you trapped, because until you do, William, you will not be free…
How dare she? he seethed. How dare she presume what he needed, or what would help him be free? As if he could be free. As if he deserved it. He slashed his hand through the air as he walked. Forgiveness, she’d spoken of. Peace. Such sentiments didn’t truly exist. Not for him. And not for most. The artificial security possessed by the world was supplied by William and the others who did the work of the Home Office.
William stopped abruptly. Goddamn her. She was right.
He stared blankly at the light that spilled through the crack in his curtains. Elsie had exposed him for the fraud he was. And he was very much a fraud in every way. William caught himself against a table to keep himself standing and clung to it for all he was worth.
His chest heaved as it had when he’d raced Edward through the hills of Kent. Only, this was no boyish game from long-ago times of stolen innocence. This was the reality of now.
“I failed.” He forced himself to whisper that truth into existence. His entire body went whipcord straight as the realization slammed into him.
He’d failed. He’d deliberately let himself fail in his role as Sovereign. He’d failed the family that had taken him as the all-powerful duke, not only keeping his own life well-ordered, but the lives of the entire Helling family. He’d failed his godson, a boy with an abusive father, a mere child who’d relied upon William for protection and love. And he’d failed the one woman who’d relied upon him for protection and safety.
As such, he’d been punishing himself ever since.
A faint scratching split the quiet.
William jumped. Bloody hell. What a pathetic bastard he’d become, being caught unaware by servants. It hardly mattered that the servants in his employ were all members vetted and trained by the Home Office. “Go away,” he thundered at the door.
Silence met the demand, and as soon as the echo of his voice ceased bouncing around the room, he let his shoulders drop. What was happening to him? His household? The control he’d thought he had?
I never really had it.
He had been exposed for the impostor he was. A man unworthy and undeserving of the great trust that had been placed in his hands. Shame soured his stomach. It had taken nothing more than a diminutive spitfire to make him see the truth of what he was.
Nay, she was not nothing more.
Elsie as she’d been a short while ago slipped into his mind, tenaciously clinging to his thoughts. Just as she’d done since she arrived. Two days ago? A lifetime ago? There was a spirit and strength within her, the likes of which he’d never before witnessed in any woman. Not his wife, not any of the women whose services had been enlisted on behalf of the Brethren.
And that is why you stormed off.
Because Elsie scared the hell out of him. God help him, how did he, a man of the clearest logic, rationalize the hold she had over him in this short time?
It’s because you do not know what to do with her. He didn’t know what to make of her. And what terrified him even more was that she’d proven he was not so immune to feeling emotions he’d rather not feel.
William dragged his hands through his hair, freeing the greasy strands from the neat arrangement she’d made. The faded blue ribbon sailed to the floor at his feet.
He stared blankly at the scrap. It lay there, a faded flash of blue among the brighter shades of his crimson Aubusson carpet. The fabrics stood in a stark juxtaposition of wealth and poverty. Beckoned by the faintest answers contained within that article, William dropped to his haunches. Collecting Elsie’s ribbon, he rubbed the fabric between his thumb and forefinger. All the while, he studied the gift she’d conferred.
Who was Elsie Allenby?
Her flawless tones were befitting any refined English lady, while her cheeks, tanned from the sun, spoke of a country miss. One who, by the threadbare quality of her drab gowns and the ribbon he held, had very little. William drew the ribbon close to his nose and slid his eyes closed.
The whisper of lemon and orange that had filled his senses and nearly snapped his control in the breakfast room enticed. But here, in the privacy of his chambers, with the world shut out, he let the innocent fragrances flood him. They threaded through him, wholly understated and yet potently tempting for their subtlety.
Hers was not the sickly sweet perfumes the actresses and mistresses he’d taken this past year had doused themselves in.
The faintest scratch sounded at the door.
The ribbon slipped from William’s fingers, and cursing under his breath, he scrambled to collect the fabric. “I said, get the hell out,” he bellowed, straightening.
Where his earlier request had been met with a dutiful silence, this time the scratching persisted. A servant’s scratch, as he and Edward had so jokingly called the bothersome raps at the door by their parents’ nauseatingly formal staff. His late father would not, however, have tolerated the insolence of having his orders gainsaid.
But then, he’d proven countless times that he was not his father. Not in the ways that mattered.
Self-loathing brought him to his feet. Slamming down Elsie’s ribbon, William stormed over to the door and yanked it open. “Did you not hear what I…” His words faded into nothing as he glanced down at the unlikeliest of intruders.
His large pink tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth, Bear panted heavily.
“Get out,” William ordered and made to shut the oak panel. “Last night was a momentary lapse in my sanity.” And yet, he stood there, still talking to a dog.
Bear emitted a pathetic little whimper.
His defenses faltered. “Don’t you have your mistress to see to?” William pleaded.
Said young woman’s dog barked once.
“I don’t need company,” William protested. As soon as the admission left him, heat spiraled from his neck up to his cheeks. He looked out into the hall and did a frantic search. “Talking to dogs,” he muttered under his breath.
Taking that as his proverbial welcome, Bear wedged his enormous frame through the slight gap of the door and trotted inside.
William stared out at the carved-wood settee in the hall and counted to five in his quest for patience. Yes, his life had indeed become a farce. He hesitated a moment and then reentered his rooms.
William pushed the panel closed with the heel of his foot and faced his canine companion.
Seated in the middle of his rooms alongside the mahogany center table, Bear sniffed at the ribbon that lay nearby.
“Spying like your mistress, I see,” he muttered, stalking over to the dog. He stopped abruptly several paces away. Talking to a bloody mutt and joining him.
Bear nosed at the fabric.
Speaking to animals would certainly place William firmly in the company of one who’d gone wholly mad. Even with that certainty, he found himself sliding onto the floor alongside Elsie’s dog. Drawing his knees to his chest, William stretched a hand out and stroked the top of Bear’s neck.
The mutt’s back leg reflexively moved in time to that stroking. “So, tell me, why are you really here? Did you also need to escape the chit?”
Bear slid his eyes closed and leaned into William’s attention.
Yes, it would seem Elsie Allenby had that effect on both man and beast.
All animals, really… They are not so very different from humans.
What a peculiar woman his brother had thrust into William’s household. She had unconventional views of animals and a desire to care for them when Polite Society saw little use for any animals beyond horses for riding and hunting and the hounds whose services they required during those hunts.
William continued to absently stroke the top of Bear’s head, until the dog’s eyes grew shuttered, and he sank onto his belly.
Moments later, bleating snores escaped from Bear’s mouth.
As he petted the dog’s coarse coat, he contemplated the graying and white hairs. The creature was old and, by the shadows in his eyes, nearing blindness. Elsie kept him anyway. This large mutt that few would ever want because of his lack of breeding, she insisted on traveling with.
Adeline had cringed at the mere mention of a dog in their household. Not even his explanation of wanting a loyal creature for when his nephew Leopold came ’round had any effect upon that horror.
Dogs were dirty. They tracked paw prints across fine carpets. They were noisy. They were… a whole host of other problems a person did not want in one’s household. That had been what she’d said anyway.
An unfaithful thought, a comparison of two women who were nothing alike—one who deserved his loyalty in death, and the other a stranger… who he wished to discover more about. For reasons that had nothing to do with the Brethren. Reasons that defied logic and had only everything to do with Elsie Allenby herself.
Footfalls outside his chambers cut into his musings, and he gave his head a clearing shake, grateful for the intrusion.
The determined steps came to a stop outside his rooms.
Outside his rooms? His servants and staff knew that during the days he was to be left—
A heavy knock reverberated in a sharp echo around the rooms.
Bear’s ears pricked up before he dropped his head back between his paws and resumed sleeping.
“You’re not much of a damned guard dog,” he muttered, pushing himself upright. His jaw throbbed, and swallowing a curse, William caught his chin in his palm.
That will not help…
What the hell did she know? He silently railed at the minx who’d uttered that unhelpful announcement. And more…what in hell is wrong with me: quarreling with minx and chatting with her damned dog. Stalking to the door, William drew it open—
And froze.
Her hand poised in the air in midknock, Elsie stared at him with saucer-sized round eyes. “Oh.”
At that breathy little exhalation, he sent an eyebrow slashing up. “Expecting another, madam?”
“No,” she said quickly. “I was not. I heard you talking to…” Her gaze slid over his shoulder to Bear.
He silently dared her to say anything of it. As Elsie turned back, he stiffened.
She gave him a small smile. “You were teasing again.”
Some of the tension went out of him. “I do not tease.” He never had. Not even when his wife had been living. Not with his family. And certainly not with those who worked on behalf of the Brethren.
Elsie wrinkled her pert nose. “I trust that is largely true, but given that in our short acquaintance, you’ve uttered two faintly jesting comments—”
His head ached at her methodical accounting. “Madam,” he warned.
“Oh, yes. Forgive me.”
“I trust you are looking for him.”
They glanced as one over to the slumbering dog, who at that moment flipped onto his back and snored all the louder. “Oh, no. I knew where he was off to. I gave him permission.”
She…?
“Gave him permission,” she reiterated with a nod. “He was worried about you.”
And mayhap the minx was capable of miracles. For the first time in the whole damned year, it was not his jaw, chin, mouth, and every facial muscle that ached, but rather, his blasted head. He jammed his fingertips against his temples and rubbed—to no avail. “Dogs do not worry about people.”
She scoffed. “Of course they do.”
He might as well have stated the sky was in fact green and the grass blue for the effrontery in her tone.
Elsie glowered at him. “I expect one such as you wouldn’t know a thing about having an animal and loving him.”
“I had a dog, madam. I know something of it.”
“You do?” she breathed. “You did?”
“I did, and my father had him put down because of a limp he’d developed after a hunt.”
She caught an agonized gasp in her palm. “Oh, William,” she said with a wealth of understanding.
William fisted his hands at his sides. My God, where had that admission come from? He’d thought that memory long buried and had never talked of it or shared it with anyone. Not his brother or sister. Not his wife. “It is fine,” he said tightly.
Elsie shook her head, challenging him at every turn. “It is not fine,” she said with a tenderness that washed through him, a siren’s spell she cast over him. “It explains so very much.”
“Elsie,” he warned impatiently.
Her features softened. “Regardless, I’ve not come for Bear.” Something shifted in his chest.
He should back away from the undefinable emotion in her intense hazel eyes. He should run from whatever these emotions were that she was forcing him to once again feel. Yet, he remained rooted to the spot, inexplicably drawn deeper and deeper into her pull.
“Why are you here?” In this household. In these rooms.
She glanced beyond his shoulder. “May I come in?”
William followed her stare. Into his chambers? Not once in their short marriage had Adeline ever set foot within them. The times they’d been intimate, he’d visited her chambers, and she’d expected him to leave shortly after they’d completed “the act,” as she’d referred to it. Since that, whores and actresses had been here, and servants had been here to clean. But this… Elsie entering his chambers would be neither about sex nor a servant’s assignments.
His palms went moist, and he curled his hands at his sides to hide the dampness.
Wordlessly, he stepped aside.
Elsie sailed into the room as though this was her rightful place and she was claiming it, no questions asked and no fight expected. She was… breathtaking in that command, fully self-possessed and assured—and unapologetic.
Elsie stopped when she reached Bear and eyed the dog a moment. “I…” Her gaze caught on the ribbon abandoned upon the rose-inlaid table.
He followed her stare. All his muscles strained, urging him forward as he anticipated her actions and yearned to halt her.
Elsie gathered her ribbon and methodically dropped it into the pocket sewn along the front of her dress.
“Is that what you’ve come for, then?” he drawled, infusing a false boredom into his tones.
“No.” She shook her head. “I came to apologize.”
William peered at her through the tangle that was his hair, damning it for the hindrance it was for the first time since he’d ceased tending it. “You—”
“I’m sorry,” she said simply.
William wandered over, carefully studying her as he walked. “Do tell, Elsie. What exactly are you sorry for?”
For allowing his convincing and far-too-charming brother to cajole her into journeying to William’s residence?
Elsie clasped her hands before her. “I should have been forthright with you,” she acknowledged. “When I suggested we dine together, it was… a ploy, as you referred to it. It was not my right to trick you or force any meetings upon you.” She drew in a breath. “Going forward, my intentions will be clear and forthright. I’ll not use any ploys to gather information that I believe would be helpful for you to share.” Elsie faltered in her avowal as he stopped a handbreadth from her, with only Bear between them. She swiftly regained her footing. “Rather, I will ask you any questions I have about your physical well-being and your past. You can of course send me to the devil, but you can rely upon honesty from me.”
William rocked back on his heels.
He was unaccustomed to people who took ownership of their words and actions. Lords and ladies were trained from birth to believe they were wholly in the right and could never be wrong on any score. “Why the about-face?” he pressed, heavy skepticism layered within the question.
Elsie lifted her shoulders in a little shrug. “Because it is the right thing to do. I’m not so arrogant that I believe myself correct in all decisions, and I’m not unable to apologize for the times I am in the wrong.”
William considered her with a deepening wariness. Everything within him said not to trust her. But an equal part of him was riveted by her directness. “Fine,” he said crisply. “What do you want?”
People always wanted something. And with Elsie’s gracious apology, he’d be mad not to mistrust that she possessed ulterior motives.
“To shave you.”
An image whispered around his mind, enticing him. Of her fingers upon him, touching him—not in the mindless act of passion he’d allowed himself to surrender to, but instead with the delicate caress he’d known all too fleetingly in the breakfast room. Alas, his service to the Brethren had given him countless reasons to be dubious of all women’s actions. Including seemingly innocent and well-meaning ones like Elsie Allenby.
He snapped his fingers twice, and Bear sprang to his feet and promptly moved into position behind him.
Elsie’s eyes flared. “How did you…?”
“How did I what?” he asked. “Hmm?” he urged when she remained tight-lipped. William strolled a path around her. “Know the signals you use with your dog?” He didn’t allow her a chance to answer. “I’m nothing if not observant, Elsie.” All his facial muscles protested their overuse, and still he was compelled to engage her. “Why should I dare trust you with a blade in your hand and access to my throat?”
She blanched, leaving her a ghastly white. “I would not… I could not…” Hurt him?
The young woman wore her sincerity like a mark upon her stricken face. But God help him. His instincts had proven so bloody faulty. He’d made missteps, and the results had been catastrophic. He’d be a fool to not be skeptical of this curious woman before him. “I’ve reason enough to question everyone’s motives.”
“It is a sad way to be, isn’t it?”
That brought him up short.
For she didn’t seek to convince him, or spout words belonging to an innocent. Yet again, she spoke as one who had been burned by life. Her fingers shook, and he took in the telltale quake.
“It is a safer way to be,” he said gruffly.
The young woman jammed her trembling digits back inside her pocket once more. The haunted glint he’d detected in her eyes glimmered bright, even in his dimly lit rooms. Again, an inexplicable hungering to drive that darkness away superseded logic.
“You wish to shave me, then.”
She wet her lips. It was a statement more than anything, but she answered anyway. “So that I might freely inspect your jaw and facial muscles.”
“There are no scars,” he warned. It was a waste of time to search for surface wounds.
Her gaze slid past his shoulder, and he knew the moment she ceased to see him and lived within her own mind and memories. “The scars one carries are often deeper and more painful than anything on the surface,” she whispered.
Gooseflesh rose on his arms.
Elsie blinked slowly and then glanced almost dazedly about the room before she settled her stare on William. Clearing her throat, she favored him with a small smile. “Shall we begin?”