“The Duke of Knighton.”
Severin Knight…her literal knight in shining armor. The relief she had felt when he’d appeared washed over her now. She remembered the security of his brawny arms as he carried her to safety, his heart drumming beneath her ear. She was indebted to him—owed him her very life. When he’d paid her a brief visit yesterday in Da’s presence, she had tried to express her gratitude.
Say no more, Miss Sheridan, for you owe me nothing,he’d said firmly.It was my honor to be of assistance. My only regret is that I could not prevent this atrocity.
He’d worn his usual austere expression. Yet she’d glimpsed the lingering thunderclouds in his eyes, and awareness had flashed through her. Beneath his controlled façade, he was roiling with emotion. Because of her?
But then he’d bowed, saying he didn’t want to interfere with her rest, and left. Had she imagined his turmoil? Even if she hadn’t, he was a protective, honorable man who would be riled up if any woman had been beaten and kidnapped. His reaction might not be specific to her.
“What is going on between the two of you?” Bea asked.
With sudden clarity, Fancy remembered the bargain she had made just before her rescue. She’d promised God that she would give up her foolish dreams if He allowed her to live. She recalled the breeze that had caressed her cheek and then Knighton had appeared.
God had kept His end of the deal; she had to keep hers.
She twisted the coverlet between her fingers, mumbling, “There ain’t nothing between us.”
“Dearest, I know you too well.” Bea’s voice was gentle. “You like him, don’t you?”
She bit her lip. “Is it obvious?”
“Only to those who know you well.” Notches of worry formed between Bea’s brows. “Fancy, I’m not sure Knighton is right for you—”
“I know.” Because shedidknow. “’E’s a duke, and I’m a tinker’s girl. ’E’s rich and powerful, and my only assets are what I can do with my own two ’ands. ’E’s an elegant gent…and I can barely read and write, except for what you’ve been teaching me. I know ’e’s far too good for the likes o’ me,” she concluded earnestly, “but you ain’t got to worry. I got my ’ead on straight now.”
Bea frowned. “First of all, he isnottoo good for you. You’re capable, beautiful, and kind. You have more class and grace in the tip of your finger than many so-called ladies could hope to possess. Trust me, I speak from experience. After my accident, those girls who were supposed to be my friends turned their backs on me. But you have been true and loyal; through thick and thin, I’ve counted on you, and you’ve never let me down.”
Fancy’s eyes welled. “I ne’er will, Bea. You’re my best friend.”
“It is because I am your best friend that I must caution you against Knighton.” Reaching over, Bea gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Not because you are not good enough for him, but because I don’t trust his intentions where you’re concerned.”
“’E doesn’t ’ave any intentions toward me.” With a watery sigh, she recalled their exchange on the riverbank. “’E wouldn’t even notice me if I weren’t your friend.”
“You’re wrong. I’ve seen the way Knighton looks at you. He wants you, Fancy.”
A shiver danced up her spine. “You think so?”
“Yes,” Bea said solemnly. “But not in the way you deserve. Since I’ve refused his offer, he will have to look for a duchess elsewhere. I do not doubt that he will, as he seems like a man wedded to his goals, no pun intended. But while he is searching for his aristocratic bride—and even after he weds her—he will be open to other sorts of relationships. That is what gentlemen of thetondo. They marry for duty and find their pleasure elsewhere.”
“You think Knighton would want me to be ’is…lightskirt?” Pain clutched her heart. Along with another feeling…a shameful, wanton curiosity.
What would it be like to be in Knighton’s bed?
“I’m saying I want you to be careful.” Bea squeezed her hand again before letting go. “You see the good in people, you always have. You’re trusting and optimistic, and I don’t want you to get hurt by a man like Severin Knight. I won’t deny that his austerity is its own brand of charm. But beneath that, I suspect he’s quite coldblooded.”
“’E wants nothing to do with love,” Fancy agreed unthinkingly.
Bea’s brows shot ceilingward. “The two of you have discussed the topic?”
“In passing.” Cheeks warm, she confided, “I think someone ’urt ’im in the past, and that’s why ’e’s afraid o’ love now.”
“Dash it, this ispreciselywhy you must be careful around him. You’re already making excuses for the fellow, bleeding over his ‘wounded’ heart.” Bea shook her head. “Have you considered that perhaps he simply doesn’t have one?”
Fancy thought of Knighton’s boyish trick with Bertrand, how he’d saved her from falling into the river and given her his jacket. She recalled the pain in his eyes when he’d said that love was a risk. And his stark look when he’d talked about not knowing how to manage his siblings and how…alone he’d seemed.
“’E does ’ave a heart,” she said with certainty. “’E’s shown me courtesy time and again during ’is visit. And ’e stayed to search for me when ’e could’ve left.”
Bea pulled a breath through her nose. “A fact for which I will remain forever grateful. But that doesn’t mean I trust him with your well-being. I’ve discussed the matter with Wick, however, and he thinks it would be better for us to have Knighton’s protection for the trip to London.”
