She lowered her eyes from his.
“It is not always like that, you know,” he said quietly. “When coupled with love, it can be a beautiful experience, Fleur—for the woman as well as the man. Don’t be afraid of all men as I know you are afraid of me.”
She realized she was biting on her lower lip again only when she tasted blood.
“Now,” he said, “what are we going to do about your situation? It is not as hopeless as you seem to think. There are several defenses that can be made.”
She laughed.
“Will you allow me to help you?” he asked.
“There were no witnesses,” she said, “except Matthew and me. And my maid was the one who discovered the jewels in my trunk. There is no defense except the truth, your grace, and the truth will sound lamentably false when set against the word of Baron Brocklehurst.”
He bent down suddenly and took both her hands in his. She had not realized how cold hers were until they were enveloped in the warmth of his.
“You are not going to hang, Fleur,” he said, “or languish in prison. I promise you that. You have been living with that terror for weeks, haven’t you? Why did you not come to me sooner? But of course, I am the last person you would come to, am I not? For today and perhaps tomorrow I want you to stay with Pamela during lesson times and with Mrs. Laycock at other times. If Brocklehurst tries to speak with you, it is my order as your employer that you keep away from him. Understood?”
“You cannot help me,” she said.
He stooped down on his haunches and looked up into herface. His hold on her hands tightened. “I can,” he said, “and I will, though I know that you do not trust me. Do you really believe that I brought you here to be my mistress?”
“It does not matter,” she said. She was looking at his hands holding hers. And feeling that she should pull away from them. And wanting to grip them as they gripped hers. And wanting to lean her head forward until her forehead rested on his shoulder. And wanting to trust him and forget about everything else.
She looked up and saw the dark, harsh, scarred face that had hovered over her in her nightmares for weeks and that had more latterly kissed her in her dreams and made her yearn for tenderness and love. She bit her lip again as his face swam before her vision.
“It does matter,” he said. “Fleur, it has never been my intention to make you my mistress. What has happened here between us has happened unexpectedly and against my wishes. I am a married man and cannot establish any relationship at all with you. And if I were not married, it would certainly not be as my mistress that I would want you.”
She drew blood from her lip again as he raised first one hand and then the other to his lips, his own eyes never leaving hers. And he released one of her hands in order to brush away a tear that had spilled over onto her cheek.
“I will do this for you,” he said, “perhaps to atone in some small way for the harm I have done you. And then I will send you away, Fleur. If you must wait for your fortune, I will find you a good position in a home I never visit. I will set you free and never come after you. Perhaps in time you will believe me and trust me.”
He released her hands and she covered her face with them, taking deep breaths to steady herself.
“I will have Jeremy escort you upstairs,” he said, straightening up. “Rest in your room for this morning. I shall leaveorders that you are not to be disturbed—by anyone. I shall take Pamela.”
She got to her feet. “That will be unnecessary, your grace,” she said. “I have lessons planned.”
“Nevertheless,” he said, “you will do as I say.”
She straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin, and turned to the door. “It will be unnecessary to send Jeremy with me,” she said. “I can find my own way, thank you.”
He smiled fleetingly. “As you wish,” he said.
And so she made her way upstairs alone and into her room. And she stood at the window staring out at the back lawn, deserted at that hour of the morning.
THE DUKE FULLY INTENDEDto talk with Lord Brocklehurst without further delay, but a series of events conspired to frustrate his plans.
The doctor was with her grace, Jarvis told him when summoned to the library. His wife and her doctor must come first, then, his grace decided, dismissing the butler with the instruction to bring Dr. Hartley to him before he left.
A bad chill during the winter had left her grace with a weakness in the chest, the man gave as his opinion when he appeared in the library sometime later. Her health had always been delicate. It probably always would be.
“I would recommend a quieter life and less of the outdoors, your grace,” he said. “Perhaps a month or two at Bath partaking of the waters would effect a significant improvement in her grace’s health.”
“She coughs constantly,” the duke said. “She suffers from frequent fevers. She has lost weight. It is all the result of a severe chill that just did not go away?”
The doctor shrugged expressively. “There are certain ladies who have delicate constitutions, your grace,” he said. “Unfortunately, your wife is one of them.”
His grace dismissed the man and stood looking out through the window for a while. He should, he supposed, have insisted on sending for a more learned physician from London. But Sybil had always been adamant in her refusal to hear of any such thing.
