Page 2 of My Dark Duke

"Tell me a little bit about yourself," Mr Danvers commanded, as he took a seat, before leaning back in his chair. His demeanour was so lackadaisical, Lillian almost expected him to prop his feet up on the table. Thankfully, however, he refrained.

"I hail from Kent," Lillian began, taking care to ensure that the "t" in Kent sounded clipped enough to convey her displeasure at his manners. "I kept house for the local vicar and his family, and oversaw the church accounts—as you will see in my letter of character."

Danvers narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, and to avoid a telling blush, Lillian reached into her basket to retrieve her letter of character. It was, of course, a work of fiction, but Danvers did not need to know this.

Her hand shook slightly as she handed it across to Danvers, who whipped it from her grasp and scanned it quickly.

"Good character," he mumbled, as he read through the missive., "Excellent with figures."

Here, the under butler paused, and offered Lillian a lascivious smile. "And an excellent figure, as well. If I might add my own addendum."

"I would rather that you did not add anything that might sully Mr. Hamilton's words, Sir," Lillian replied, bristling with indignation at his impudence. "He was a fine man and would not broker any such talk under his roof."

"Well," Mr Danvers threw the letter down on the table with a sigh, "You're a loyal employee, I'll give you that. Tell me, Miss Smith, why did you leave the employ of Mr. Hamilton if you held him in such high esteem?"

Lillian slowly let out the breath she had not realised she was holding. Here at least, was something she had anticipated. She had not expected a handsome but rude butler, but she had prepared to be quizzed on her backstory, and she had made pains to ensure that it would be as near to the truth as possible.

"I worked for the Hamilton family for five years," Lillian said, as she began to retell a story which belonged not to her, but to her old housekeeper. "As I have said, I kept house for the vicar and the accounts for the church. I was most happy and grateful for the position, but when my mother became unwell, it was necessary for me to return home to care for her. Thankfully, the daughter of the house was then of an age to take over my duties."

"How fortuitous," Danvers replied, his eyebrows in danger of disappearing into his hairline. "Might I enquire as to your age? You look quite youthful for one who professes to have so much experience."

"I am five and twenty, Sir," Lillian replied, raising her chin defiantly against his skepticism. In truth, she had only just turned twenty years of age, but she had thought it necessary to borrow the real Miss Smith's age, as well as her history.

"If you say so," Danvers replied with a shrug, before pushing back his chair and rising to a stand.

He was, Lillian noted, impeccably dressed. How wealthy the Duke of Thorncastle must be, if he could outfit his servants in such fine attire. His black coat looked to be made of merino wool, his breeches so well-fitting that they might have come from a Bond Street tailor, whilst his silk waistcoat—a dark grey—was so luscious that Lillian almost wished she might reach out and stroke it.

As Danvers moved from behind the desk to in front of it, Lillian was gifted the opportunity to appreciate his form, which was tall and athletic. His shoulders were broad and strong, and his thighs—Lillian gulped—were muscular, as though he spent most of his days riding.

"Why do you need this job?" Danvers queried, leaning back against the mahogany desk to survey her. His blue eyes were so piercing, Lillian almost believed he could see right through her, to her very soul.

Worrying, she thought, as she dropped her gaze, for her soul was tarnished with the blood of another.

"I am alone in London, Sir," Lillian replied, opting to offer the truth this time for she did not think she was capable of lying under such intense scrutiny. "I have no family here and require a position that offers lodgings. Mr Fortesque, of the employment agency, did say that the position needs urgent filling, and that I might begin straight away, if accepted."

Danvers remained silent for a few moments, digesting the tale Lillian now regretted sharing. She did not wish for him to think she was begging for charity. Nor was she glad she had revealed to this man just how alone she was in the world.

It felt almost akin to telling a fox that the door to the hen-house had been left ajar.

"A beautiful woman like you might find more enjoyable employment elsewhere," Danvers finally offered, his hooded eyes giving away little emotion.

Silence reigned, as Lillian struggled to comprehend what he was suggesting by enjoyable employment. Was it possible that Mr Danvers was proposing that Lillian take up a position in a bawdy-house or a brothel?

"I am afraid that I do not understand the meaning of your words, Sir," Lillian finally spluttered, her cheeks burning red. Of course, she had understood him well enough, but she was offering the wretch a chance to redeem himself.

"You are beautiful," the butler shrugged, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he saw how flustered she had become. "A woman of your beauty might find that there are men who would pay her to do so much more than keep their accounts."

Lillian gasped; the brute! How dare he suggest that she sell her body to the highest bidder. She was the daughter of a vicar, she had not been brought up to suffer such insult from despicable creatures like Mr Danvers. No matter how much she had sinned, she had not fallen that low.

"Sir, you insult me," Lillian cried, springing from her seat and preparing to leave.

"I wasn't suggesting you walk the cobblestones of Covent Garden," Danvers replied with a bark of laughter, not looking the slightest bit remorseful. "I was thinking a gentleman—a wealthy one, mind—might think to take you on as his mistress. Wouldn't you rather spend your days in bed being pleasured by a man, than wasting them toiling away in boredom?"

"I would rather be bored than a whore," Lillian snapped, taking a step toward the door.

Mr Danvers, who until now had been indolent in posture and manner, moved quickly to block her path.

"I wasn't suggesting you become a whore," he drawled, his dark eyebrows narrowed in annoyance. "You could be a mistress. It can be considered a most prestigious position, if the right man takes you under his protection."

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