Page 8 of My Dark Duke

"Ah, Miss Smith. How nice to see you again."

The Duke of Thorncastle stood as both ladies entered the room. Lillian, through a mixture of surprise and exhaustion, merely stared back at him dumbly.

"Say hello," Mrs Harrod whispered beside her, giving Lillian a sharp elbow to her ribs in encouragement.

"Ouch," Lillian grumbled, wincing at the bony prompt. "I mean, good evening, Your Grace."

There were one hundred questions on the tip of Lillian's tongue—not to mention a hundred obscenities she longed to fling at the duke—but she remained silent.

One did not speak to a duke, unless first spoken to, after all.

"You are probably wondering what I'm doing here," Thornecastle said, waving a casual hand for Lillian to sit.

"That's quite right," Lillian answered in clipped tones, before hastily adding a "Your Grace" at Mrs Harrod's scandalised glare.

A brief, wicked smile crossed Thorncastle's face, before he reassumed his air of hauteur. He took a seat, once both ladies were seated, and cleared his throat before he deigned to illuminate Lillian as to the reason for his presence.

"As you well know, having been both his housekeeper and keeper of Parish accounts," Thorncastle began. "The Reverend Hamilton contributed to many charitable organisations—especially ones which assisted spinsters required to earn their own keep."

Lillian frowned; what on earth was the man wittering on about?

"I myself am patron of such a charity and having heard that the previous housekeeper of my old friend, the Reverend, had fallen on hard times, I felt compelled to offer assistance."

"Such a good man," Mrs Harrod breathed, her eyes glistening with tears as she listened to the duke.

Such a good liar, Lillian thought dourly to herself—though, on the lying front, she wasn't exactly in a position to cast stones herself.

"I have spoken with Mrs Harrod," Thorncastle bestowed a smile upon the Scotswoman, who quivered with delight, "and I have arranged for your board here to be paid for by my charity."

"That's really not necessary, Your Grace."

This time it was impossible for Lillian to conceal her true feelings, and the definite bite to her tone earned her another definite poke in the ribs from Mrs Harrod.

"Don't be so ungrateful, girl," the boarding-house proprietor hissed, her round cheeks rosy with indignation. "'Tis a fine thing His Grace has done for you."

Lillian took a deep breath to compose herself. She would not allow Thorncastle to waltz in and upend her day for his own amusement, she thought.

"Indeed, it is," she agreed, plastering a sickly-sweet smile upon her face for Mrs Harrod's benefit. "But I am thinking of the other ladies that His Grace might help, instead of me. Ladies who might truly need—and want—His Grace's assistance. I cannot accept his offer, for their sakes."

"Such a good girl," Mrs Harrod sighed, beaming across at the duke. "Always thinking of others."

"You are a great judge of character, Mrs Harrod," Thorncastle's voice was deadly serious, though he caught Lillian's eye as he spoke, and despite herself, she smiled.

Poor, unassuming Mrs Harrod had become caught in their crossfire, and was so innocent that she believed herself seated betwixt two saints instead of two sinners.

"Despite your protests, however, Miss Smith," Thorncastle continued, "I am afraid it is too late to object. Your bill for this month has been settled."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Lillian replied, through gritted teeth.

If the blasted man wished to squander his money for nothing, she thought, then who was she to get in his way? At least his generosity might allow her the opportunity to put a little of her wages aside for a rainy day.

"Mrs Harrod tells me you have taken up employment at a shipping office?" Thorncastle continued, as he lifted his cup of tea to his lips.

His tone was idle, but Lillian knew instinctively that this was an act. There was a slight draw to his thick, dark eyebrows and an almost imperceptible edge to his tone, and he was completely still as he waited for her to answer.

Thorncastle, Lillian realised, did not approve.

"Yes." She lifted her chin defiantly. "In the purser's office. I manage the wages for the sailors."

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