“I wore mourning for months,” the countess added.
Diana had no response to that, so it was fortunate that Lucas dismissed his man and strode forward to speak to her. “I need to go. Do not leave the house. I have a man watching Geoffrey and several here inside the house. If you—”
“I can’t go anywhere. I’ll need to receive visitors all afternoon. There are many who will want to pay their respects.”
Lucas nodded as if he expected that. “I don’t expect this to work. The news is unreliable at best, but I need to check it out nonetheless.” He looked back as another one of his men stepped into the room. “This is Caleb Matthews. I trust him. You’ll be safe, provided you keep him with you whenever you’re outside of your bedroom.”
She looked back to see Mr. Matthews square off as if saluting her. And she didn’t miss the sheen of pride that came over him when Lucas said he trusted him. It was a sharp contrast to Lucas’s parents’ attitude. In that soldier turned footman, she saw true feelings for Lucas. He loved him in the purest, brotherhood sense of the word, and from what she could tell, Lucas returned the emotion in full measure.
Meanwhile, his mother was just now gaining her feet. “Whatever this business is,” she said with disdainful tones, “pray it ends quickly. We must reintroduce you to society.”
Lucas turned to his mother, his expression grim. “Shall we open a ball together, Mama? Perhaps I shall lead you out for a quadrille.” He extended his maimed hand to her as if inviting her to dance. He wasn’t wearing his customary glove, and so the scarred, crab-like digits hovered in the air between them while she visibly recoiled. He waited a moment, then a second, before pulling on his glove with sharp movements. “Perhaps we should wait a bit until you are more in command of your emotions.”
Diana winced. In that one exchange, she saw years of damage inflicted from mother to son, back to mother in an endless cycle of anger. And standing off to the side was Lucas’s father, who watched with an air of helpless despair. If she had to guess, she would say that he had not caused the problems between the two, but he certainly hadn’t helped. It all lay before her like a tapestry of pain, and she found herself grabbing Lucas’s deformed hand in her own. He had the glove half on by then, and she tugged it back off with a firm jerk of her wrist such that she held his bare hand.
It is the first time that she had touched his scarred flesh, and he seemed to freeze at the contact. She gentled her touch, doing her best to caress his scars, even as she tightened his fingers over his.
“You have not rested in two days,” she said to him. “Surely you can trust someone else—”
“I cannot. If there’s a chance to prove Geoffrey’s villainy in court, I will find it.” He left the rest unspoken, but it was there in his eyes. If he couldn’t find a way to end Geoffrey’s threat legally, he would do it by any other means available to him. He would see her safe, even if she didn’t like how he chose to do it.
“I trust you,” she said, and she watched her words settle into him. His shoulders eased down for the first time since she’d come down the stairs. She even noted some softness in him, if only around the very edge of his mouth.
“See that you listen then. Let Caleb protect you.” His gaze cut to the footman.
“I will.”
Which is when he slowly drew her hand up to his mouth. He kissed it with a courtly elegance befitting a future earl. But he was nothing like a dandy gentleman. He had harsh edges and a family that hated him so much that he’d played dead for years rather than reveal himself to them. He dressed more like an impoverished soldier than as a gentleman, and when he moved, it was with the sharp purpose of a soldier.
He couldn’t have been more attractive to her if he were a royal prince. And as he pressed a kiss to her palm, she saw in his eyes something she’d never seen before—herself as reflected in a worthy man’s eyes. He seemed to worship her, while her mind was caught up in how amazing he was. He disregarded everything, including his own parents and title, in order to save her from Geoffrey. Just as he’d tried twelve years ago to give up everything in order to save her from her marriage.
He was an extraordinary man, and for whatever reason, he felt she was worth saving. For twelve years, she’d fought for respect from her servants, her husband, and her stepchildren. Odd how something she’d sought all her life was now gifted to her from a man who was much more powerful than her. Lucas could easily dismiss her as he pursued his own life. And yet, he gazed at her as if she were everything to him.
The walls around her heart crumpled. In that moment, her heart gave in, gave up, and gave herself over to him. She loved him.
She loved him.
Then he left.
Just as he’d done so long ago. She knew he’d come back. If it were at all possible, she believed he’d return to her. Because that’s what great men did when protecting the women they valued above all else. And that knowledge was enough to keep her strong throughout the hellish hours that followed.
Hours that turned into days. And days to a very long week.
Damnation!Where was he?
Chapter Nineteen
Ireland, Two Weeks Later
Irish mud smelledten times worse than London’s mud. Such was Lucas’s thought as the wet from the ground seeped into his clothes. He heard the distant bark of a dog and smelled the pungent scent of sheep that could only be found in the country, and he cursed the weeks he’d spent skulking about in Irish mud, English mud, and London muck.
A week in Ireland! Two weeks since he’d last seen Diana. And now he reeked of Irish mud while he wondered if he’d made a very bad choice somewhere along the way.
He’d thought he was being clever. He decided to hide away from Diana, disappear on the search for Fisher, the missing footman. In truth, he had other men on that task while he skulked about waiting for Geoffrey to attack Diana. He’d guessed—obviously incorrectly—that Geoffrey would be more likely to make his move when Lucas was in the wind.
Except there had been no attempts on Diana’s life that he could see. None in England as she greeted mourners for several days in their London home. Nothing on the trip to Ireland where the now-deceased Oscar had his titular estate in all its crumbling ruin. And none yesterday after the service and burial in the family tomb. He’d remained nearby, failing completely to hide from the locals given that he wasn’t Irish, didn’t speak with an Irish accent, and had no reason to be loitering about. Fortunately, English coin spent very well in famine-ravaged Ireland, and he’d managed to remain relatively undetected, he hoped. Or maybe not, given that Geoffrey certainly hadn’t shown his hand. Lucas was a soldier, not a spy, and he feared that he was ill-equipped to discover Geoffrey’s plans.
With the funeral over, the Beddoes left, and good riddance to the shrew and her husband. Geoffrey never arrived, clearly uninterested in giving any respect to his father or viewing the ramshackle disaster that was his castle inheritance. So now all who remained were Diana and a small staff, all staying at the dower cottage that was not part of Geoffrey’s inheritance. It was a comfortable property, easily able to hold Diana, her maid, and the two bodyguards he’d sent along with her—Caleb and Egeus. Everyone had retired now, except Diana, who leaned out her window as she turned her face to the moon.
