“Mr. Lucifer,” she said. Then she grimaced. “You really must choose another name.”
“I have checked the house and can find nothing amiss.”
She could tell by his narrowed brow that he didn’t like that. They both knew Geoffrey was up to something, but neither could guess what. “I’m sure we will find out by morning,” she said, her voice weary. “I should check downstairs. You might not know if something was amiss.”
“The cook would. She has seen nothing. And Simpson made the rounds with me. He saw nothing.”
“Perhaps it was only Geoffrey making his usual threats. He delights in making me question everything. He would no doubt laugh that we have searched the house from top to bottom when he did no more than cool his heels in the parlor.”
“He had you attacked.” Fury burned through his words, and she could see his need to fight for her. It tightened his hands into fists, stiffened the muscles in his entire body, and made him look all the more like the devil with every breath. And yet, as she looked at him, she never felt safer.
It was enough to make her eyes water with gratitude. No one but Lucas had ever leaped to her defense. It didn’t matter that twelve years ago his attempt had been fruitless. He had tried. And tonight, he had saved her. That made her breath stutter inside her as she ached to be in his arms. She needed the comfort of his touch and the safety it brought as well.
“Thank you, Tina,” she said as she pulled the brush from her maid’s hand. “Go rest now. It will be a long day tomorrow.” It was always a long day in this household as they cared for Oscar.
“Yes, m’lady,” Tina said as she curtseyed.
“Oh, and please tell Mrs. Hopkins to throw out his lordship’s tea. It’s gone off somehow. I will order more in the morning.”
Her maid nodded and departed, leaving her alone with Lucas. Finally.
He stood awkwardly just in front of the door, his expression tight, and his gaze unsettled. When he spoke, he kept his words low, but they seemed to fill the room, nonetheless.
“I’ll be sleeping just outside your door tonight. I’ll know if anything happens.”
“What? In the hall?”
“Yes.” And from his tone, there would be no arguing with him.
“You really think—”
“Yes, Diana. I really do.”
She bit her lip and gripped her hands together to keep them from trembling. “I suppose we should call the constable then. Tell him about… About…” She didn’t want to think about the attack, much less speak of it.
“Yes. I sent Nathan to make the initial report. I expect the constable will be here first thing in the morning.”
Of course, he had. While she’d been listening to Oscar’s rambles, he’d been protecting the house, searching for answers, and proceeding with the next steps even without her thinking of them. How wonderful to have someone who thought ahead, who acted intelligently on her behalf, and who now remained nearby just in case.
Normally, she’d bristle at such impertinence. She was the mistress of the house. She should have ordered these things. She should havethoughtof them. But right then, she could feel nothing but gratitude. He was here. He was helping her. And finally, she had someone who could shoulder some of the burdens for her.
It was a miracle, and if she hadn’t been sitting down, her knees would likely have given out from her own silly weakness.
“Diana!”
He was across the room in a second, squatting down before her, even as he put one hand on her neck.
“Do you feel faint?” he asked. “Are you hurt?”
She knew he meant to shove her head between her knees again, but she shook her head. “No,” she said quickly. “No, that’s not it.”
“Then what?” His hand relaxed on her neck to slide down her arm. In a moment, he was gripping her hand. “Tell me.” It was as much an order and a plea, but how could she put it into words? How could she express any of the feelings inside her? Fear, gratitude, relief, and need—all that and more churned inside her with no true outlet. Except for one.
“Hold me,” she whispered. “Please.” She put everything she felt into that last word. Then she waited to see if he would fail her or be exactly what she needed.
Chapter Twelve
Lucas was ina dark place. It was a military state of mind where he assumed every shadow held an enemy, and every sound was a predator. His mind was quick, and his muscles were ready to erupt into violence at a moment’s notice. This was how he’d stayed alive during the war.
