The Duke I’m Going to Marry (Farthingale Series Book 2) (29 page)

He strode across the chamber to open the shutters and peer out the window. The surrounding trees were coated in a thin layer of ice, their leaves glistening against the meager light. It seemed as though the entire countryside had been turned into a forest of ice. A thing of shimmering beauty, yet treacherous. Rain and snow were still falling in a sleety mix, but a little lighter now. He doubted the storm was ending, perhaps just a lull, for the distant clouds were a bleak, dark gray. A thick layer of snow covered the icy cobblestone courtyard and the stable’s thatched roof. He watched the fat, wet snowflakes as they fell, and lost himself in his thoughts.

He wasn’t certain how long he stood beside the window watching the storm rage outside, but for the first time since his brother’s death, he felt the violent storm that had always raged within his heart begin to ease. Healing would not come easy, he knew that much. But he would have Dillie to help soothe the ache over time.

He sighed, realizing that he hadn’t told her about his nightmares. She would find out soon enough, and most certainly choose to sleep apart from him during their marriage. Few married couples ever shared a marriage bed. He understood and would accept it. Just not yet. He wanted Dillie in his arms tonight.

“Yer Grace,” he heard someone call out softly from behind him.

He turned, confused as he heard his door shut quietly. The pretty maid who’d warmed his bed a time or two now stood alone with him in the chamber. Door closed.
Hell
. “Elsie, you shouldn’t be in here.”

“But Yer Grace, I’m ever yer obliging servant.” She tossed him a seductive smile and began to unlace the ties at the front of her gown. “I’m at yer call should ye need... anything.”

He strode to her, frowning as he turned her around and opened the door to boot her out. “Who sent you up here? I’m not in need of your services.” He put a hand on each of her shoulders to give her a gentle nudge down the hall when she appeared reluctant to obey.

And then he noticed that Abner’s door was wide open.

Dillie was standing beside it.

Staring at his hands on Elsie’s shoulders. Staring at Elsie’s unlaced ties.

Damn.

She looked as though he’d just shot her through the heart.

***

Dillie felt her entire body go numb. She couldn’t move, not even to turn away from Ian because at this moment, she wanted him out of her sight.

“Elsie, go downstairs and don’t come back up here,” Ian said to the girl in his arms, but his gaze remained firmly fixed on Dillie as he spoke. Elsie cast Dillie a smug smile as she sauntered downstairs, leaving Dillie alone in the hall with Ian.

She was still unable to budge. Her mind was a whirl of confusion. What had just happened? She’d been with Abner only a few minutes. Ian had made a point of keeping both doors open so that he would hear her call out when she was ready to return. Had he planned to dally with the pretty maid in the meantime? Thinking he could finish with the girl and send her on her way before anyone noticed? Obviously, he’d miscalculated.

“Dillie, I know what you’re thinking and you’re wrong.”

“Oh, I see. She came up here unbidden and untied her laces all by herself.” He was a rakehell, and until this very moment, she hadn’t quite understood what the word meant. She understood now. Rakehells were the depraved sort of men who sought their pleasure whenever the opportunity presented itself, no matter the circumstances and no matter who they hurt.

“In fact, she did.” He spoke softly, his voice calm and even. However, Dillie saw the thunderous swirls of gray in his eyes and knew he was angry. When at peace, Ian’s eyes were a beautiful, deep grayish-green. The haunting gray that swirled in them now tugged at her heart.

“Oh, Ian. I want to believe you, but I don’t know if I can.” Yet he wasn’t stupid. He must have known that he might be caught. Was that risk a part of the thrill? It seemed so opposite his nature. He was a careful, deliberate man, one who needed to be in control of his surroundings at all times.

Nor did it seem in his nature to be cruel, especially to her, and not after what they had shared last night. She’d felt safe and protected in his arms.

Still, the evidence could not be overlooked. “I just want to know the truth.”

He reached out his hand and took a step toward her, but she backed away.

“So that’s the way it is.” He dropped his hand to his side. “Your mind is made up. I’ve been found guilty.”

“No. I don’t know. The problem is, I don’t know
you
.” Her needs were simple. She wanted a happy marriage to a man she loved and respected. Was she now condemned to life as the ignorant spouse of a man who would spend his nights cavorting with any woman who caught his fancy? She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm her thoughts. Her head was spinning, and her heart felt as though it had been cut to ribbons. What she’d seen made no sense, yet the girl had been standing beside Ian with her lacings untied and Ian’s arms had been around her shoulders.

She waited for him to explain, but he said nothing further, so she hobbled past him with her head held high and made her way toward her bed. Her foot was swollen and painful, but that did not compare to the ache of his betrayal. They weren’t even married yet, and he’d already been caught dallying with the girl under her very nose.

Her eyes welled with tears.

No! She refused to cry in front of him.

“Damn it, Dillie.” He scooped her into his arms and carried her the remaining distance to the bed. He set her down gently in the center of it, and then stepped away and ran a hand across the back of his neck. “You have to trust me.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Why? Give me a reason.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, now appearing quite indignant, which would have been hilarious had it not been so tragic. Then his manner softened. “Because you’re the last person on earth I’d ever purposely hurt. You must know that.”

“I want to. I’m trying, but I don’t know if I can.”

“Is this how it’s to be between us? My groveling at your feet, begging for forgiveness for every perceived slight? I’m a damn duke. You’re to be my wife, not my judge and jailor.” That said, he stormed downstairs.

DILLIE SPENT
the next half hour angry and stewing in her chamber. She’d been too unsettled to remain in bed, so she’d moved to the chair beside the fire and propped her foot on the stool that Ian had ordered placed there. The pillow Ian had also ordered for her was atop the stool, cushioning her bruised and swollen ankle.

She took a deep breath to stem her ache and caught the scent of gingerbread. Ian had ordered those gingerbread cakes brought up to her as well. Was this the sort of care a rakehell offered to just any woman?

She simply didn’t know. Her parents had always made marriage look easy. Oh, they bickered at times, but only over small matters. She couldn’t recall any of their arguments ever starting with “What were you doing with that woman in your arms?” Her sisters seemed happy with their husbands as well. In any event, none of them were here to offer guidance.

In truth, it seemed important that she work the problem out by herself. She wondered what Lily would do, and decided to start by making a list in her mind of Ian’s strengths and weaknesses. It was a logical and methodical approach. Very much like Lily.

If only she were more like her twin!

“Right, let’s start.” She decided to count Ian’s strengths on her hands and his weaknesses on her toes. First, Ian protected her and made her feel safe. A definite strength. She stuck her thumb up.

Second, he was clever and she enjoyed his company. He’d rescued her from the ardent attentions of Charles Ealing and been a gentleman about it. More strengths. She held out two more fingers.

He’d tried to protect her from Lady Withnall. He’d been by her side after Lily had been abducted, offering his quiet assurance and using his considerable resources to help find the culprits. She’d been terrified that she would lose her twin. He’d taken charge and kept up her spirits. She loved him for that alone.

Yes, she loved him.

There was more. She’d used up the fingers on one hand to count all his wonderful attributes and was about to start on the other, but it was shaking. In truth, both hands were shaking. She was a fool. She didn’t need to count. What Ian had done for her and her family after Lily had been abducted was worth at least a thousand points in his favor.

Had she been wrong to doubt him?

She shook off her concern and pressed on. Those horrid rumors circulating about Ian had also been false. He wasn’t a murderer. He didn’t kill his brother, even though he insisted on blaming on himself. His family had heightened his anguish with their heartless disdain and vicious lies. Yet he’d borne their cruelty and hurtful insults with noble grace.

And the night he’d been attacked outside the Farthingale townhouse, he’d—

Crumpets!
She was an idiot.

She shot out of her chair and hobbled to the bed to grab one of the blankets.
Ugh
. She really needed to find some decent clothes. She started to wrap the blanket around her body and then changed her mind. More people were milling about downstairs. She could hear their voices carrying up the stairs. Either the storm was letting up—though it didn’t seem so—or the locals had grown tired of waiting for the wintery mix of snow and icy rain to let up and had braved the forces of nature for the sake of a pint of ale.

No matter the reason, the inn was filling up. She slipped off Ian’s shirt and donned her gown and stockings. They were torn and stained, but at least dry. She tucked her good foot into one of her boots. Hilda had taken them yesterday to be cleaned, and they now appeared to be in passably good condition. She didn’t bother with the other boot, for her foot was so swollen she doubted more than her big toe would fit inside.

She wrapped her now-dry cloak about her shoulders, grabbed one of the larger fireside irons to use as a cane to steady herself, and left her chamber. A quick peek in Abner’s room showed that the old man was alone and sleeping comfortably. She hopped along the hall, trying to make her way downstairs without falling down the flight of stairs that now appeared as daunting as a cliff wall.

No doubt Ian was sitting alone with a large tankard of ale in front of him. She firmed her resolve, knowing she was about to make a spectacle of herself. The sound of laughter and conversation emanated from the common room, an indication that the inn was now bustling. She took several deep breaths, ready to face the patrons who would be gawking at her while she limped in on a foot that was too swollen to allow her to wear proper shoes.

As she neared the bottom landing, she heard two women conversing in quiet but insistent tones. “Elsie, are ye mad? Ye could have been sacked for that little stunt. Be grateful that His Grace didn’t report the matter to Mr. Gwynne.”

“How was I to know, Hilda? He’s asked for me before,” the younger of the two replied. Her sniffles and quavering voice revealed she had been crying. “But he wants nothing to do with me now. He was angry and steered me out of the room.”

“Ye should have realized that he wasn’t interested when he asked Mr. Gwynne to keep ye working downstairs. But ye didn’t care. Ye purposely tried to cause trouble between ’im and Miss Farthingale.”

“So what if I did? She’s just a passing fancy for him.”

Hilda seemed to grow angry. “Ye’re a fool if ye think so. She’s the girl he’ll be marrying and he said those exact words to me and Mrs. Gwynne before he left to scout the accident site this morning. And he meant ’em. No more mischief, I’m warnin’ ye. Keep out of his way or I’ll toss ye out into that storm m’self. I’ll be watchin’ ye closely, Elsie. Ye’d better behave.”

Dillie did her best to shrink against the shadows when she heard light footsteps approach. She saw a tearful Elsie disappear down the hall, and then she heard heavier footsteps as Hilda marched into the common room to tend to the bored and stranded patrons.

Oh, no
. Dillie remained leaning against the wall, suddenly needing support. Ian had been telling her the truth. She’d trusted him on everything else and ought to have trusted him on this. In her own defense, she’d already realized her mistake and had been on her way to tell him so.

However, she was also grateful that she’d overheard the conversation between the two maids. When dealing with Ian, she had to be confident and relentless. He’d put up those thick walls around his heart and only a battering ram—lovingly wielded, of course—would knock them down.

A quick inspection of the common room revealed he wasn’t there. She frowned. He hadn’t been in Abner’s room either. Nor was he in the inn’s private dining room. Nor in the kitchen or entry hall. Mrs. Gwynne bustled toward her. “Miss Dillie! What are ye doin’ out of bed?”

“I’m looking for His Grace. Have you seen him?”

She clucked and shook her head. “Oh, ye must ’ave been asleep and he didn’t wish to wake ye. He’s in the stable checking on his horse. I’m sure he’ll be back soon. Shall I help ye up to yer quarters?”

“I’d rather wait down here.”

Mrs. Gwynne glanced toward the common room and frowned. “I don’t think ye ought,” she said in a whisper. “A few travelers arrived early this mornin’. I don’t like the look of ’em. They were askin’ questions about our guests. Tryin’ to be casual about it.” She tapped the side of her nose. “But I’ve seen enough of ’em squirrely sort to know that I should have m’guard up. I told ’em they were welcome to take a hearty meal in the common room, but couldn’t stay the night.”

Dillie tried to peer over the portly woman’s shoulder. “Which ones are they?”

“Them two over there.”

She pointed to a pair of men who were dressed decently but appeared quite rough around the edges. “They do look squirrely.”

“You keep away from ’em, Miss Dillie.” She tapped her nose again. “They’re fidgeters. See how their eyes dart from their tankards to the door? And how they duck their heads whenever someone approaches their table? They’re up to something, mark my words.”