Page 51 of My Dark Duke

Not quite, a voice in her head scolded,you have far more money at your disposal than you did when you arrived in London.

The duke had lavished her with dozens of expensive pieces of jewelry, as well as copious amounts of pin-money - which she had not spent, for she went nowhere. Lillian totted up what coins she had in her purse, and realised it was enough to take her far away from the city. Far away from England, if she so desired.

As Polly talked, Lillian’s mind whirred away, trying to establish just what her jewelry might fetch in a pawn shop.

When they arrived back at the house, Polly began to fuss over her, offering to fetch her a warming-pan for her bed, or to have Maude fill the bath again.

“Or, a brandy,” Polly continued. “To warm you and send you to sleep.”

“Really, it’s not necessary,” Lillian answered, trying to keep the impatience from her voice. “I will fall asleep without aid, Polly. All I ask is that I am not disturbed for the next while.”

She felt a stab of guilt, as Polly reached for her hand to squeeze it reassuringly.

“If you need anything at all, just ring the bell,” the lady’s maid said, with motherly concern.

Lillian blinked away tears and nodded her head. Her mind was focused solely on Lord Bailey, but Polly was probably more concerned with herothernews.

Upstairs, Lillian set about packing, folding dresses and other garments into her batteredportmanteau. The act brought on a sense ofdéjà vu, and she was momentarily transported back to the night she had fled from Linton.

A great weariness came over her, as she wondered how she could possibly make another escape. Even if she managed to flee from London and Lord Bailey, then what? Would she spend a lifetime looking over her shoulder, waiting for him to appear?

Tears stung her eyes, as a longing for Thorncastle pierced her heart so sharply, she almost staggered.

The duke had the power to fix everything, to make Lord Bailey disappear. But, when he learned of Lillian’s duplicity, of her transgressions, would he still wish to do so?

She could not bear the idea of having him look at her with scorn in his blue eyes. Nor would she be able to tolerate the removal of his affection, of having him lost to her, forever.

Nor could she tarry over sentimental thoughts, when her life - and the life growing within her - was in danger.

With a renewed sense of urgency, Lillian finished packing. She carefully tucked the necklaces, earrings, and rings Thorncastle had gifted her into a pouch and placed it at the bottom of the bag, alongside her coin purse.

With a sense that her heart was breaking, she took one last look around the bedchamber - the room in which she had lost her virginity, as well as her heart, to Sebastian - then left, fleeing down the servants’ stairs and out the garden door, towards an unknown future.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A DEBATE INThe House of Lords was never the most pleasant activity, but that morning, Sebastian found it even more painful than usual.

His mind was unable to focus on the intricacies of the budget extension proposed for the renovations of Buckingham House, for it was filled with thoughts of Mary.

It was not just the memory of last night’s fierce lovemaking which had him distracted, but also the niggling idea that her true identity had already been revealed to him somehow.

Lord Bailey popped into his mind; there was some connection there, if Sebastian could only recall it…

There was a reason why the weedy baron had been so intent on asking him about Mary, and it was not because he was hoping to take a tumble with her in a doxy-house.

As the room erupted into a loud chorus of “ayes”, which far outweighed the “nays”, Sebastian finally recalled Barty’s tale about Lord Bailey’s inheritance woes. The story had something to do with some illegitimate chit being willed most of the former baron’s fortune; was it possible Mary was the lady in question?

The Speaker called the vote in favour of the “ayes” - a travesty, in Sebastian’s opinion, for Prinny seemed intent on bankrupting the country - Sebastian leapt from his seat.

“Excuse me,” he murmured, as he pushed his way through the throngs of Prinny’s Tory sycophants, congratulating each other on a job well done.

His carriage awaited him outside, in the courtyard of Westminster, and he brusquely informed his driver to take him to Mount Street, where Barty resided, in a suite of rented rooms.

When they arrived outside his building, a distinguished brown-brick townhouse, Sebastian sent Higgins in to inform Barty he was waiting.

“Shall I take a card, Your Grace?” the young lad asked, to which Sebastian shook his head.

“I am not requesting an audience with Mr Beaufort,” he answered, carelessly waving a gloved hand, “I am demanding one - be sure he understands that.”

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