“Is there anything I can do?” Simmons asked, all that pity heavy in his mournful tone.
“No,” Lucas said through clenched teeth as he turned his face. “Just get out.”
“Well, that is a pretty way to talk to someone who is helping you!”
Lucas turned at the sharp, feminine voice that had said those harsh words. There, standing in the doorway, staring at him like he was a monster, was a woman. Not just a woman, a goddess, it would seem. She had dark hair with deep red highlights, a finely shaped face and full lips. Her eyes were the most spectacular green he had ever seen. Like jade stolen from faraway lands that he could only dream of now.
At this moment, those green eyes were narrowed and filled with anger as she folded her arms and shook her head. Her censure made him feel a strange sense of…shame. An odd sensation he rarely experienced. He’d cut that away a long time ago.
“Mr. Simmons, is it not?” she asked, turning to the other man in the room.
“Yes, miss,” Simmons said, and his gaze flitted over their companion. Lucas recognized the interest that lit in his eyes. The same he felt in his own belly.
Only the younger man likely had a better chance than he did in his current state.
“Thank you for your help. I believe I can handle the situation from here. Please send word to Lord Stalwood that we are settled.”
Simmons glanced at Lucas and then back to the woman. “Of course, miss. I will be one of the guards rotating here. If you have any trouble, if youneedanything, put a candle in the front window and I will come at once.”
The young woman nodded, and seemed oblivious to Simmons’ regard as she motioned him toward the hallway. “I appreciate that kindness. Good day.”
Simmons shrugged ever so slightly and left. Once he was gone, the young woman turned toward Lucas, those sharp eyes still filled with slight disgust and judgment.
“Hello,” she said, stepping into the room. “I trust the room will be comfortable, even if it does not meet your standards.”
Lucas leaned on the bed with his undamaged arm, mostly because he was not entirely certain he could stay upright on his own. “I have no standards, I’m afraid. Ask anyone in my acquaintance.”
Her lips pursed in what seemed like annoyance at his quip and she moved toward him. “Let me help you.”
He recoiled as she reached out. “I can get myself into the bed.”
Her brow wrinkled, and when her gaze swept over him, he felt her judgment even more powerfully. She glanced at his face and shrugged. “So you say. Then I shall let you get settled on your own if that is your choice at present. I will return in an hour to bring you some food.”
She said nothing else, nor did she wait for his answer to her statement. She merely turned on her heel and marched from the room, tugging the door behind herself as she left.
When she was gone, Lucas collapsed against the mattress, too exhausted and pained to even try to remove his boots. He had no idea who the lady was, nor her role in the next few weeks of his life. Perhaps she was the healer’s wife or daughter. Perhaps she was a servant. He supposed he would find out soon enough.
Whatever the answer, her presence, as lovely as it was, did not change the facts of his life. He did not want to be here, and he was going to do everything in his power to get away from this place as soon as possible.
Chapter Two
Diana cursed herself as she walked up the stairs toward her father’s old chamber, the room where the Duke of Willowby now waited, and she hoped in a better mood. Not that it had been his mood she’d been pondering since she left him a few hours before.
No, she hadn’t been thinking ofthatat all. She’d been thinking of how different the man had been from the image she’d created in her head. Thanks to her father, spies had come in and out of her life for decades. She had no romantic notions about them, no sweeping ideas about them all being young or handsome. Most she’d known had been thinkers, not fighters. Men who were good at puzzles and could talk about pedantic questions for hours, even days.
So when her father had talked about the Undercover Duke, when he’d described the titled spy, she’d had a picture of a pampered, middle-aged popinjay. Someone…soft.
But this man was anything but soft. He was hard. His face was hard, his jaw was hard, his eyes were hard. He had a scraggly beard and long hair that curled wildly around his face. He was obnoxious too. She would grant him some allowances for the pain he was obviously in, but he had no call to speak so unkindly to those who helped him.
And yet, despite all that, he was handsome. Yes,handsome. She’d been trying to avoid that observation, pretend it away, but there was no way to do so. The Duke of Willowby was undeniably handsome and unmistakably young.
And she was going to be spending copious amounts of time alone with him. Any ladies’ handbook would speak to the wildly inappropriate nature of that fact.
“Thankfully, I’m not a lady,” she muttered as she shifted the items in her arms, drew a steadying breath and opened the door to the chamber once more.
She gasped as she did so. The duke had found a place on the bed, sort of cockeyed across the mattress so that his still-booted feet hung off the edge. What hehadmanaged to remove was his shirt, and as she entered the room, he made a pained sound and stood, giving her a good look at a masculine and well-formed chest.
One with a very ugly scar across the left shoulder. It was red and ragged, not completely healed. In fact, it looked as though it had been opened and reopened over the months. She could only imagine the horrible pain that this man had endured.
