Once they arrived in the kitchens, he turned to her. “If you heat the milk, I’ll see what I can scrounge up in the way of food. I’m sure there’s some cheese and bread to be found somewhere.”
Lyra merely nodded as she grabbed the milk from the larder and set about her task. As she started a small fire in the stove, she glanced at him from time to time and found herself admiring the rather domestic scene he presented as he began to gather cups and plates from the cupboards. He looked so un-duke-like in just a pair of trousers and a plain linen shirt, partly rolled up to his elbows, that she found herself saying, “You act as if you do this sort of thing quite often.”
He immediately stiffened. “I know my way around a kitchen, if that’s what you mean. I may be a duke, but I’m not helpless.”
She felt she’d just insulted him somehow, so she quickly amended, “I didn’t mean any disrespect, Your Grace, only that it’s rather…unexpected.” She took the kettle off the stove and carried it over to the table where the cups were already waiting. “Roger never cared to venture below stairs for any reason.”
Unless it was to dally with one of the maids…she thought bitterly.
Alister carried over a loaf of bread on a platter and set it down between them. As if reading her very mind, he murmured huskily, “But I’m not the earl.”
For a brief instant, their gazes caught and held, and then he turned and broke contact.
Lyra frowned slightly before she took a seat at the servant’s table. After a few moments, Alister returned with a few slices of cheese for both of them, along with a pair of apples. He passed out the plates and sat down across from her.
For a time, they didn’t speak, merely partook of their late night repast, but as the awareness around them grew, Alister found himself bringing up the one topic that would effectively break the sudden tension. “Tell me about Roger.”
With a sigh, Lyra asked softly, “What do you want to know?”
He could tell it was the last thing she wanted to discuss, but he had to find out exactly how much, if anything, she might know of her husband’s corrupt activities. “You told me earlier today that he had many enemies. How so?”
“You mean other than a few spurned husbands who actually came forward to defend their honor when their wives peccadilloes could no longer be ignored?” she replied sourly.
Picking at the items on her plate, she eventually gave up and clasped her hands before her. “Roger was not a favorite among the ton for many reasons. He was known to refuse to honor his debts, instead calling out the men who accused him of cheating and basically murdering them in cold blood on the dueling field. He was cruel to the poor, liable to spit on them as look at them, and he treated most of the gentry the same. Because of his wealth, he felt as though he were some sort of spectral being that should be worshipped by all those beneath him. The only one that he didn’t consider beneath his notice was the Prince Regent, and even then, my husband’s behavior toward him was questionable.”
Alister stilled. “Did he ever threaten Prinny?”
She shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of, although I wouldn’t have been surprised.”
“Why do you say that?” he asked, his tone sharp.
Lyra didn’t even hesitate. “Because my husband was a thorough bastard.”
Alister regarded her steadily. “Then why did you marry him?”
She took a sip of her milk before replying. “He had a respectable title and my mother believed it was the best offer I would receive.”
“You didn’t love him?”
“Hardly.” Lyra snorted and her hand tightened about the delicate china. “I detested him from the moment I laid eyes on him, but what could I do? The betrothal had already been arranged.” Her voice flattened. “It took me a long time to forgive my mother for binding me to him. We were estranged for years, until recently, when my brother returned home from India and brought us all together again.”
There was a brief pause before Alister said quietly, “Lady Eversleigh came by this afternoon to check on you.”
“That was kind of her,” Lyra murmured. She took another sip of her milk as if that was all she wished to say on the subject.
As another awkward silence descended, he veered the conversation to more neutral territory. “How is Roarke faring?”
“Very well. I received a letter from him just this morning.” She shook her head. “How long ago that seems now…” With a tight smile, she added, “He is still on the continent with Mara enjoying their honeymoon, and I should like to keep it that way. Roarke has dealt with so many inner demons for too long. I should hate for my current…ordeal to upset him unduly.”
Alister offered a brief nod. “As you wish. Besides, if I have my way on the matter, we shouldn’t even have to worry about a trial in the House of Lords until well after Boxing Day. By then, I doubt there will be enough evidence to warrant one.”
At her curious expression, he explained, “I have taken the liberty of investing the services of Mr. Talon Lyridon. He is a highly respected barrister in London and should be here within a day or two to work on your case.”
Lyra’s brows lifted in surprise. “You employed one of the‘Sinful Swains’?”
“Ah.” Alister smiled. “I see that you do know him.”
“Only by reputation,” Lyra admitted, somewhat sheepishly. “But I thought everyone in London knew‘The Sinful Swains of Sussex.’”
