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Authors: Evelyn Pryce

Tags: #England, #Historical Romance, #Love Story, #Regency Romance, #Romance

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BOOK: A Man Above Reproach
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“I am a duke now,” Elias said stiffly, “yet you two insist on still treating me as if we are at Harrow in the dormitories.”

“And Nicholas will be a marquess and I will be an earl, what of it?” Sebastian said. “We are still the boys we were, which is perfectly fine. This woman makes you better, Lennox, and that is not something you will find again. You are a duke, as you said, so you can do whatever you want. Go get your girl. If your mother protests, send her packing for the dowager house in Scotland.”

“I cannot do that.” Elias paused. “But I want to do that.”

“Gods, man. Get out of my house.” Sebastian was grinning. “I am throwing you out of the party.”

Nicholas turned him toward the door.

“I will yet again cover for you,” Nicholas smirked, “if only to pay you back for the times you have poker-faced lied to my mother in order to save my arse.”

“Josephine is not expecting me,” Elias insisted. “It would be unaccountably rude.”

“All the better to catch her off guard,” Sebastian looked about an inch away from wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “I will even dance the waltz with Miss Francis for you.”

“Have a nice night, Eli,” Nicholas pushed him forward.

Sebastian smiled at Elias with that same schoolboy mischief he had mentioned.

“My servants will bring your carriage ’round the back. Godspeed.”

As Josephine pulled on the garish blue stockings, the prevalent thought in her mind was that she would not be sad if she never had to put them on again. Elias’s decisiveness was crawling into her brain, making her think that there was another way to help the girls of the Dove, and maybe she did not have to do it alone. Perhaps she would not need to don the stockings much longer, if Elias understood the gravity of the situation. She had resolved to speak with him, as soon as the moment presented itself.

After dressing, she went to the courtyard, yet another place in her life that the duke had changed. The careful redesign captured the moonlight in a soothing manner, and there was an aura of quiet. She could not guess how much Elias had bribed Mother to effect the renovation. Josephine sat down at the single table, surrounded by flowers that had been planted, and folded her hands. She was unsure of what she should be doing, other than wishing Elias were with her.

A voice cut into the still evening.

“BB,” Digby croaked, strolling into the light. His ravaged features were not done any favors by the candles dotting the scenery. “Nice place yer fancy fella made here.”

“I did not ask for it.”

“No, I suppose you dinnit.” He scratched his grizzled chin and appraised her from head to foot. “Such a huge amount of trouble from such a tiny little thing, you.”

“Pardon me?”

His grubby hands were curling in and out of fists. She could not tell if it was a threatening gesture, or just some kind of tic of his. Digby was Mother’s strong arm and not much else. None of the girls had ever been able to figure out if they were related or he was paid help, but he was unfailingly loyal to the woman. He had moved a little closer and Josephine shrank away from the odor that surrounded him, as foul as his heart.

“Little bluestocking,” he growled. “You have become a thorn in our side.”

“Digby,” she blinked, attempting an innocent look to ward off his threat. She was never very good at the naive act, but she had to try. “Is this a joke? I do much for the Dove’s customers; Mother has said so herself. I know I have been scarce lately, but—”

“But you are busy rutting the duke?” Digby leaned forward, breathing into her face. “Lucky ’im, gettin’ you in the bag. I don’t buy it, though. Think yer plannin’ something. Think you ’ave been all along.”

She tried not to flinch.

“I have no—”

Josephine did not even get to finish her sentence before he had grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her to her feet.

“We ain’t idiots, BB—or Josephine, right? Right?” He shook her. “Girls find shelter over the years, always right before we can sell them
to the highest bidder. It had to be someone working here. Someone who knows the place.”

“I try not to think about what truly goes on here.”

Her calm façade was cracking by bounds. She should have taken Sally’s warning more seriously. She should not have agreed to another of Elias’s flights of fancy. Digby’s giant hands tightened on her forearms, reddening the skin beneath.

“Stuck up little bitch,” he snarled. “Don’t know yer place, even in a whorehouse.”

“Take. Your hands off of me.”

She struggled, but it was soon obvious that she was outgunned. Digby’s only true talent was brute strength and Josephine knew she could not match it. She was also not going to be able to goad him into a battle of wits. He exhaled a breath rancid with anger into her face. He had been given orders, and he would complete them.

“One thing for you to be all hoity-toity, but quite another thing for you to be hurtin’ business.” He unsheathed a knife from his belt, where he always displayed a few prominent weapons. She cringed as the metal touched her cheek. Her first instinct was to kick him, but he had pinned her against the wall so effectively, she couldn’t move at all.

“So full of hope,” he grunted. “Let’s widen yer smile.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she insisted, barely moving her mouth, the blade was pressed so deep. “Please, Digby. Let me go. I will do my job at the Dove and you will have no trouble from me.”

“The thing is, lovey,” he said, twisting the knife a bit so that it glinted in time with a flash of his jagged teeth, “I know yer lyin’. I saw your bookshop, saw little Sapphire, put two and two together. Don’t need to be no professor to do that. Just had to follow the duke and he led me straight to ya.”

Everything she had feared was coming true. It sank into her gut that she was probably going to die soon. The freedom she had glimpsed now felt like a cruel joke.

“I have not… done anything…”

Josephine did not know what she could say to convince him. She barely cared. Her words were wisps that floated past her attacker’s head and unwound into the night air, so little impact they made. She felt her muscles relax in a strange way, sagging and resigned to their fate. Her one coherent thought was that she would surely faint.

Digby’s grinning face swam as he pressed himself into her further.

“Mother said I could have my way with you first.”

She closed her eyes, knowing what was coming next. After that, she didn’t care if he killed her. She would not want to live after that. He cupped her breast and his lips grazed the side of her face, leaving a wet trail. She braced for the inevitable onslaught.

Nothing happened. It was as if he disappeared. He was yanked back and the air in front of her was empty. She opened her eyes to see him crash against the wall beside her, Elias’s arms locking him into place. The knife clattered to the ground.

“Apologize to the lady,” Elias demanded, cutting off Digby’s air with a forearm. Josephine had never seen such fury in the eyes of anyone before. Elias was incandescent with rage. “I said—apologize.”

Digby sputtered words that must have been pleas for forgiveness, but they were unintelligible. He choked in futility. Josephine was also gasping for breath—she thought she might be imagining the duke, dressed to the hilt, but somehow managing to pin a thug to a wall, with little effort expended.

He turned his head, turned those fire-filled and frightening eyes on her.

“Are you hurt? If there is even a scratch on you, I will kill him right here.”

Digby struggled, fruitlessly, and Josephine managed a dry smile.

“I do not think that necessary.”

“Fine.” Elias sounded disappointed. He dispatched the thug by slamming his head against the stones with the perfect speed and pressure. There was a sickening thud as his skull hit the concrete. Digby sank to the ground, unconscious, turning into a heap at their feet.

“How…? How did you…?”

She felt faint. She tried to hold herself up, but instead found that she was supported by Elias’s arms. His words came out on a rush of adrenaline and Josephine started to come back into awareness from the strange purgatory of panic.

“I’ve not just lessons in literature, love. Thackeray is addicted to boxing and I accompany him to Gentleman Jackson’s on a regular basis. I thought it a pursuit that might come in handy. I am also quite an adept swordsman, but I do hope it does not come to that.”

She burrowed into the warmth of his jacket. His heart was pounding beneath the thick fabric.

“I thought you had to go to Lord Frost’s ball,” she whispered.

“I left. Thank god I left.” His voice was muffled against her hair as he held her head to his chest. “Are you really all right? Completely?”

“Shaken. Bruised. That is all.”

“Gods, Josie. If he had hurt you—”

She looked up at him. “Thank you.”

“We are going to Ashworth. You will broach no argument.”

“For once,” she smiled, “I will not.”

On the carriage ride back to his estate, Elias held her hand. She leaned her head against his shoulder and they were silent. Josephine felt a bit numb. She knew she should start telling him the whole sordid tale, but
the silence was so comfortable and he was so warm, she could not bring herself to begin. They arrived at Ashworth Hall by way of the servants’ entrance.

She watched through the carriage window while Elias dismissed more than half of the servants who had rushed to their master’s arrival. She was whisked away by Dryden and his unreadable face, deposited in a room with a hot bath and tea. Josephine soaked for a quarter hour, digesting what had just happened. It was more than clear that she needed to confide in the duke. Still, she worried—how would he take it all, would he even understand?

She emerged from the bathroom, wearing a bathrobe she had found. The fabric was heavy and soft, absorbing the dampness of the bath as it enveloped her. It must have been Elias’s—she was clearly in his private chambers. She did not think he would mind and it seemed ridiculous to put back on her costume. She never wanted to put it on again, in fact.

The door opened into his bedroom, where he sat hunched at his desk, scribbling something. She closed the door with what sounded like a deafening click and he turned. He dropped the pen.

“Good lord,” he swore. “Look at you.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “Did you want me to…”

“Take it off? Yes. But not yet.” He stood, crossing over to her. “I will not marry Miss Cecily Francis and I want the name of the woman I do intend to marry.”

She did not like the look in his eyes. It was positively vulpine. Though there was but one candle burning in the room, the moonlight streaming through the windows made it just bright enough for her to see the evil he was onto: He was unbuttoning his jacket as they spoke. The light glinted off of his buttons and illuminated his sensuous, long fingers and their deft motions.

“You shaved this afternoon,” she said, for lack of any other words. She was focused on his movements as he laid his coat and then waistcoat against a chair.

“I had to, but I am still the same unrepentant rogue.” He had a sudden expression of concern. “Are you sure you are all right?”

“I am fine,” she smiled, only a touch hesitant.

“Good.” His cravat unraveled with one tug and he dropped it to the ground as he walked toward her. “Then may I tell you why I left Frost’s ball?”

“I—are you undressing?”

“Yes.” Elias took her hand and led her to his enormous bed, plush and expansive. They both sat and he bent down, unlacing his boots. They hit the floor with a thud and he faced her again, running a hand across her cheek.

“I left Frost’s ball because all I can think of is you. Your laugh, your voice, visions of you squirming under me.” His eyes flicked briefly to her lips and she shivered, though she was not cold in the robe. Elias no longer seemed uncertain, his every movement and all his words were quite decided. “You’ve taken over my imagination completely and it is… most vexing. I can abide it no longer. I want you… not just once, always. I need answers, love, so I came for them. I came for you.”

The low voice he spoke in, dark with promises, was so sensual that he could be reciting Latin conjugations and she would feel it in her bones. He kissed her, first exploring, then deeply. When he pulled back, his eyebrows were drawn together sharply in the glowing light.

BOOK: A Man Above Reproach
10.76Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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