Duchess 02 - Surprising Lord Jack (25 page)

“Well, he didn’t touch me.” She raised her chin. “I should like to see him try.”

Damn. It was a horrible time for such a lesson, but he couldn’t allow her to think even for a moment that she could defy a grown man. It was too dangerous, especially given that the Slasher was still at large.

“Don’t fool yourself, Frances. If a man wants to hurt you, he will. Men are bigger and heavier than women, and they usually know how to fight.”

“I can defend myself.”

“Have you ever had to?”

She sniffed in disdain this time. “No, but I’m smart. I can outwit—
what
are you doing?”

He reached across the small space separating them and grasped her wrist. “I’m giving you a very small taste of what it’s like to be trapped. Go on. Break free.”

She glared at him and then jerked her arm back—or tried to. He held her still with very little effort. Her jaw hardened, and she twisted and pulled, again without success. “Let me go.”

He did and then watched her rub her wrist.

“You hurt me,” she said.

“No, you hurt yourself trying to get away. Now just imagine if I’d
wanted
to harm you. You would have been in very serious trouble.”

Her chin went up again. “I would have screamed.”

In one fluid movement, he grabbed her wrist again and pulled, pinning her against him and covering her mouth with his hand.

“Mphft!” She wiggled and grabbed his fingers. She tugged and squirmed harder.
“Mphft!”

He put his face down by her ear so she would be sure to hear what he had to say.

Mmm, she smelled of lemons. Her lips under his fingers were so soft, and her body felt very good against his. It would feel even better if he could pull her onto his lap and silence her with his mouth instead of his hand. But she’d been crying and deeply distressed just moments ago. He would have to exert some self-control.

And he had a very important—a
deadly
important—lesson to teach her. “A man might very well anticipate that you’d try to call for help and stop you just like this,” he murmured. She’d stopped struggling; she must be listening, but he’d keep his hand over her mouth a moment longer to ensure she didn’t interrupt. “Never be overconfident. Never underestimate your opponent. Do you understand?”

She made a muffled sort of growl that he took for assent.

“Good. You must stay alert. Keep to lighted areas with other people, and if you do find yourself alone, know where safety is and be ready to run for it.” Was she still listening? He’d hold her quiet for just a little longer.

“If a man should manage to grab you, act immediately—don’t hesitate. Jerk your elbow back as hard as you can into his stomach; kick, bite, scream. I have Sam shadowing you, so if you make noise, he’ll hear. Can you do that?”

Frances showed him she could, but he had anticipated her reaction and let her go before she could do him any damage.

“Well done, but in a real attack, you need to move faster and with intent to injure.”

She narrowed her eyes. Good. Anger was better than tears. “Shall I try again?” she asked.

He smiled, but this was nothing to make light of. “It’s unlikely you’ll be sitting next to the man when he attacks.” He stood and offered her his hand. She looked at it as if it were a snake, but finally gave him hers, and he pulled her up to stand in front of him.

“If he grabs only one arm,”—he suited his action to his words—“hit him with the heel of your other hand in the face or under the chin so his head snaps back.” He held his other hand up at chin level. “Come on. Try it.”

“Must I aim for your hand?”

He grinned. “This time, yes.”

He made her practice until she was putting her weight into her efforts. Then he grabbed both her arms and pulled her up against him.

She was breathing hard from her exertions; her scent—lemons and woman—was stronger. It went straight to his head like wine on an empty stomach.

Her body, though tall, was so much smaller and finer than his. She looked up at him, passion in her eyes. Her lips were parted and so close . . .

Was he insane? The passion was
anger
, turning, as he watched, to uncertainty. He didn’t want to see fear as well. She’d been crying when he’d come into the room, for God’s sake. She’d been through enough this morning.

“Can you free yourself now?”

She twisted and wiggled, doing dangerous things to his self-control. He moved his hips backward slightly so she wouldn’t be alarmed by the rather pointed evidence of his reaction.

He forced himself to focus on the lesson he had to teach, not the one he wanted to.

“If he traps you like this,” he said, “you must scream and jerk your knee up between his legs as hard as you can. When he doubles over in pain, slam your fists or elbows into the back of his head to knock him down; then run as fast as you can to other people. The key is to act quickly. Don’t hesitate and don’t hold back.”

She blinked. Hadn’t she been paying attention?

But then she smiled. “Yes, I think I have it. Would you like me to demonstrate?”

That would be especially painful in his aroused state. He dropped his hold on her and stepped back a safe distance.

“No, I don’t believe that will be necessary.”

Venus found the duke in his study. “Oh, good, you haven’t left for White’s yet.” She closed the door behind her and almost danced over to his desk. She hadn’t been quite this happy—or happy in quite this way—for four years.

Drew stood and his eyebrows rose as well as he watched her approach. “You have good news?”

“The very best.” She reached him and wrapped her arms around his middle. “Ellie thinks she’s in the family way.”

She watched joy light his face—but then he frowned. “Does Ned know?”

That was the problem, wasn’t it? She rested her head on Drew’s chest. “Yes. I’m sure he suspected, since Ellie’s been feeling unwell in the mornings and has been far more tired than usual, but now that it’s been two weeks since her courses . . .” Venus sighed. “Ellie told him this morning before she told me.”

Drew rubbed the back of her neck. “How did he take it?”

“As badly as you’d expect. Ellie said he turned white as a sheet and left their room without saying a word.”

“Zeus!” Drew led her over to the settee. “Not the best way to react to such news. And how did Ellie take his lack of enthusiasm?”

“I’m sure she was disappointed, but she understands.” Venus sat down. “Well, if anyone would understand, it’s Ellie. She got him through Cicely’s death, didn’t she?”

“Yes, she did.” Drew sat next to her and laid his arm along the settee’s back.

“But she’s worried about him.”

“I don’t doubt it. Where is he now?”

“Braxton said he retreated to the library with a brandy bottle.”

“Damn. Not, I’ll wager, to toast the good news. Would you like me to talk to him?”

“Yes. Give him a little time, and then please do try, not that I think anything will come of it.” Ned worried about many things, but Ellie’s pregnancy would take him to new heights—or depths. “It’s going to be a long nine months.”

“It is.” Drew smiled and touched her hair. “But let’s at least take a moment ourselves to celebrate the news. I know how you’ve been looking forward to a grandchild.”

“As have you.”

“Indeed I have.” He pulled her up against him and kissed her.

She kissed him back. She was so thankful to have him. No matter what sorrows entered her life, she could face them all as long as she had Drew at her side.

She rested her head on his shoulder, her hand on his chest. His heartbeat was slow and steady. His calm helped her regain her own.

Surely nothing would go wrong this time. God could not be that cruel.

But, as they all knew too well, God didn’t make any promises. Sometimes things
did
go wrong—horribly wrong. There were no guarantees in life. She bit her lip. “I do wish this was a story whose ending I already knew was a happy one.”

Drew gave her a little shake. “Now don’t
you
start worrying, Venus. You know we have to act as if everything will be fine, for Ellie’s—and Ned’s—sakes. And things will be fine. Most mothers and babies live through childbirth.”

“I know.” And she knew at heart Drew was just as concerned as she was.

“Worrying will only make you—and all of us—miserable. It will have no effect on the outcome.” He smiled. “As I believe you’ve told Ned on more than one occasion.”

She grimaced. “I can be very annoying.”

“But very wise.” He leaned back on the settee. “Now, speaking of wisdom and interesting developments, what do you make of Jack and Miss Hadley? My admittedly poor male powers of observation lead me to think Miss Hadley has warmed toward Jack, and that he is not totally averse to her—a good thing, since no other male besides the Pettigrew boy has had the courage to approach her.” He shrugged. “Not counting Percy. Percy is just out to make trouble, as usual.”

Venus smiled. For once Percy was a bright spot in her thoughts. “Have you noticed how Percy will leave Frances alone whenever Miss Wharton is present? I have high hopes for that match.”

“If you say so.”

“Oh, ye of little faith.” She kissed him again and then frowned. “But as for Jack and Frances . . . yes, I think you are correct. There is some interest there.”

“And you aren’t happy about it?”

“I don’t know.” She just could not decide if Miss Hadley would be a good wife for Jack. It was so much simpler making matches for people who were not her children.

“You aren’t thinking of pushing her toward Pettigrew, are you? He’s been hanging around her skirts since the wedding ball.”

She’d noticed that, too, and she’d considered encouraging the match, but something about it had not felt right—and she’d learned to trust her instincts. A match that looked perfect on paper when one listed all the important items—income, beauty, wealth, interests—often failed miserably when the two parties met. The intangible
something
that was as important as it was elusive was missing. “Oh no. He’s far too young.”

Drew’s brows rose. “He can be at most two years younger than she. I’ll wager he’s older than I was when I wed you.”

“Yes, but . . .” She shook her head. “There’s just something about him I cannot like.”

Drew contemplated an invisible speck on his pantaloons and nodded. “You may be right about that. Remember the scandal with his sister and the half-pay officer about five years ago?”

“Yes, now that you mention it, I do. Ophelia was only seventeen, wasn’t she? It happened just before her come-out, which her parents then cancelled, of course.”

“Of course. Pettigrew senior caught them before they reached Gretna Green, but they’d been on the road for two days. The girl was quite ruined.”

“But we can’t hold the sister’s sins against Mr. Pettigrew. He could have been only sixteen at the time. Poor boy. As I recall he had to go with his father to bring Ophelia back. And she never forgave him, though why she should be so angry with him was a mystery. Everyone said they’d been quite close before then.”

“Perhaps too close.”

Venus stilled. Drew couldn’t mean . . . but the tone of his voice indicated he might. “Oh?”

“There may be nothing to it, but once Pettigrew began showing an interest in Miss Hadley, I asked a few questions—obliquely, of course.”

“Of course.” Drew could be very discreet when the occasion warranted.

“Everyone agrees Pettigrew and his sister don’t get along—or even speak.”

“But that describes Frances and her brother as well.”

“Exactly, which is why I didn’t find it terribly alarming. But everyone also agrees they’d once been inseparable.”

“Oh dear. I do hate it when families have a falling out.” Ash and Jess had been inseparable, too, in their youth, and now they seemed permanently separated if not on their way to divorce. She cringed at the very thought of that, but of course she’d support Ash in whatever he chose. And maybe divorce would be better than the current unresolved situation.

“. . .
intimately
inseparable.”

“What?”
That would teach her to let her thoughts wander. “What did you say?”

“You should pay better attention.”

“I’m sorry. I got thinking about—” No, she wouldn’t mention Ash. Drew would only tell her their son’s marital problems weren’t her business. “I was thinking about, er, separations.”

Drew gave her a speaking look. He knew exactly what she’d been thinking about, but he mercifully didn’t comment. “I was saying that Cranburt, who lives not far from the Pettigrew family, hinted that Pettigrew and his sister may have been involved in an unnatural relationship.”

Venus’s stomach lurched, and she feared for her breakfast. “And you are just now telling me this?”

“I just learned of it last night. Cranburt was deep in his cups and wasn’t explicit—I’m only reading between the lines. He’s also been known to play fast and loose with the truth,
and
it’s common knowledge he detests Pettigrew’s father over something that happened when they were both in school. So I only mention it as a caution. It’s probably just as well Miss Hadley not develop a tendre for Pettigrew.”

“Yes indeed.” She should put a word in Frances’s ear—but what should she say? Frances likely didn’t even know such a thing was possible—and it might not be true. What a horrible tale to spread if it had no basis in fact.

Drew shrugged. “But getting back to our real problem—tell me how we can keep Ned from worrying himself sick about Ellie and the baby, and driving us all mad as well.”

 

 

“Congratulations, Ellie,” Frances said. Ellie was hovering outside the library as Frances came down the corridor to take Shakespeare for a walk. “I hear you’re increasing.” The news of Ellie’s pregnancy—and Ned’s worried reaction—were all the servants could talk about.

“Thank y-you.” Ellie’s smile wavered, and she bent quickly to pat Shakespeare. She did not look elated.

“Are you feeling quite the thing?”

“Oh, I’m f-fine except for when I first get up in the morning.” Ellie looked at the library’s closed door.

“Were you going to get a book? Don’t let me detain you.”

Ellie shook her head quickly. “Oh no. N-Ned’s in there. He—” She bit her lip. “He wishes to be alone.” She blew out a long, disheartened breath. “He’s, er, concerned about the baby and me. His first wife died in childbirth, you know, and, well . . .” She tried without complete success to smile. “It’s understandable, but I was hoping—”

Being on edge like this could not be good for Ellie or the baby. “Would you like to come with me to walk Shakespeare? We are just going to the park in the square.”

“I would love that. Let me get my bonnet and pelisse.”

“Don’t hurry. We’ll wait for you in the entryway.”

“I promise I won’t be long.”

Ellie darted up the back stairs; Frances and Shakespeare continued on to the front of the house, passing the yellow parlor on their way.

Damn.

It had been two weeks since her brother’s visit, and she
still
cringed every time she passed that room—and not because the furniture was so very uncomfortable.

When she approached the front door, Sam, her shadow whenever she went out, popped up from the chair where he’d been kicking his heels.

“I can take Shakespeare out for you, madam,” he said, petting the dog’s head. He was very fond of Shakespeare.

“Thank you, Sam, but I would like some fresh air myself.” She was not used to sitting around with nothing of importance to do. “And Lady Edward is coming with me.”

She’d like to tell Sam to stay inside. Ellie had managed to get free of
her
shadow—well, that was because Ned had finally decided the boy was too much in the way, especially when Ned wished to steal a kiss. And since Ellie rarely went out without Ned at her side, the poor lad had been bored. He’d got into a bit of mischief, so everyone agreed it was better if he went off to do something else.

Frances could well understand his boredom.

She watched Sam shake hands with Shakespeare. It was kind of Jack to look out for her, but it was also wearing to have the boy at her heels all the time. It wasn’t as if there was any real danger.

Sam laughed at something Shakespeare did and then grinned at her to share the joke. She’d no idea what was so funny, but Sam’s smile was infectious. She grinned back.

Had Frederick ever been happy like this when he was a boy? She didn’t remember it if he had.

She rubbed her forehead. Damn it, Frederick’s words from that dreadful day in the yellow parlor still haunted her. They’d lodged in her heart and ambushed her at odd times: when she was falling asleep or woolgathering at some dull society event or doing mindless tasks like dressing or bathing. She couldn’t escape the regret and guilt.

Viola
had
criticized him at every turn, and worse, Frances hadn’t questioned her cruelty. In fact, she’d taken great pleasure in bettering him whenever she could—and then crowing about it and lording it over him.

And she should
never
have called his wife a prostitute.

She’d written to him, begging his pardon for all of it, but it remained to be seen if he’d accept her apology. She’d sent the letter over a week ago, and she’d yet to have a reply.

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, Frances,” Ellie said, hurrying up from the back of the house. “I was a little delayed. Mary wanted to give me some advice.”

“About what?” Frances asked as she and Sam and Shakespeare followed Ellie outside.

“About—” Ellie looked at Sam and blushed.

This was never going to work.

“Sam, I’m afraid you are very much in the way,” Frances said. “Why don’t you sit out here on the front steps? If we run into any difficulties, we’ll call and you’ll be able to hear us clearly.” She smiled. “And Shakespeare will be with us as extra protection.”

Sam frowned. “I dunno, madam. Lord Jack said to stay with ye whenever ye went out.”

“Yes, but I’m quite sure he didn’t mean when I’m only going to the little park across the street with Lady Edward.”

Sam looked at her doubtfully, but then heaved a large sigh and reluctantly sat on the steps.

Once they were safely out of his hearing, Ellie laughed. “Thank you. I feel able to talk much more freely without Sam’s young ears listening in.”

“Yes.” Sam was from Jack’s foundling home, so he’d probably heard and seen things she and Ellie couldn’t even imagine, but Frances felt much freer without him listening, too. “So, you were saying?”

“That it’s amazing how everyone—and I do mean everyone—feels compelled to offer an opinion or two or three when they learn I’m increasing. I shudder to think what my sisters will say when I get home.”

Ellie paused, a bemused expression settling over her features. “But I won’t be going back to the vicarage, will I? My home is now with Ned at Linden Hall.” She smiled, clearly delighted.