Page 23 of Duke of Chaos

“I will know what Ezra wants me to knowwhenEzra wants me to know it,” Lydia soothed.

I know my sister is speaking from a loving heart, and that I should probably listen to her, but…

“I cannot thank you enough for coming all the way out here,” she continued in a soothing tone, “but Ezra and I have an agreement. There is no pretense of romance here. I know exactly what type of man Ezra is and I went ahead with my choice all the same.”

“You expect me to leave you here?” Alice hissed, pulling her hands away.

“I want you back here and with Juliet very soon,” Lydia replied calmly, “But for now I have to work to do, as did you and as did Barbara when you both became duchesses.”

Alice looked positively displeased at hearing this, but gradually her expression shifted to resignation. She linked her armthrough the one Lydia offered, and they both began walking toward Alice’s rooms.

“He is not like the others, Lydia,” Alice offered, her last effort at dissuading her older sister. “The rumors about him being a son of the devil or a demon are questionable, yes, but what they say about his feelings is true. He has none. He is…loyal, I think, to a small few, but that is it.”

“Well then,” Lydia sighed, giving her sister’s arm a warm squeeze, “I shall have to become one of the small few.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

“The Earl of Charmaine said that Poppy is absolutely demanding yet another dinner with us,” Ezra stated, keeping his eyes on his diary as he sliced through his sausage. “Tell me we can host them the day after next.”

“No, no,” Lydia replied, shaking her head as she mirrored his body language, “We have the French gold merchant and his wife, the Barbiers, coming into town and staying with us for four days. She is very needy and requires my full attention, and as I recall her husband is quite the same with you now that he deems you his friend. It would not do well to bruise any egos.”

This was how nearly each one of their breakfasts had been conducted for the past six weeks. The two of them sat apart from one another, both studying their diaries closely to coordinate new plans of attack. Though the kiss on their wedding night had been an interesting one, Ezra had quickly discovered the next morning that his new wife cared not a whit for such things. Over her first coffee, she’d immediately begun discussing their courseof action. During that first breakfast, he had tried to tease her and had called her a shrew. Once he saw just how seriously she took her role as his partner he’d stopped with that particular form of jest. That was a trait he could and did respect.

“Blast,” Ezra hissed, chomping down on a bite of hash, “You are right. The problem is, however, every time Poppy does not get her way she squeezes her husband’s nether regions and he then squeezes mine in the profit margins.”

From her seat at his left, Lydia’s head suddenly popped up as she snapped her fingers. In the six weeks that they had acclimated to their new lives, Ezra had come to enjoy such moments. It always meant she’d found a solution to his problem, which she had proven very good at solving.

“We shall play them off each other,” she explained, “Make them believe we coordinated it as a surprise gathering. Monsieur Barbier could surely benefit from another gem supplier anyway, and the wives are so alike that with the proper conversation topics on my part, I shall have them becoming best friends in no time.”

Both families are conceited enough to believe that we brought the other for their entertainment,” Ezra mused with a rueful grin, “Aside from the opera house, is there anywhere else we can take them? Somewhere public?”

“Sir Courtney and his wife are hosting a salon,” Lydia replied with a knowing smile, her eyes alight with a rather wicked and gleeful glint. “You know how he is with his homemade pear wine.With that and their usual form of entertainment, our guests will be knackered and joyful with the company.”

She loved this as much as he did, he realized, watching her practically glow from her chair. Lydia was indeed the gracious and beautifully mannered woman she boasted to be in public. But in private, she was cunning, quick, and just manipulative enough to make Ezra grin wickedly to himself whenever he thought about her tactics.

“Excellent,” Ezra stated, placing his silverware beside his now empty plate. “It shall work beautifully. I will have my valet send word that we are looking forward to receiving them both.”

“I agree,” Lydia replied, giving him a sly smile as she gathered her things and rose. “And I shall inform Mrs. Bonair that the maids should prepare an additional room and have the cook make some of those honey cakes Poppy seems to love. We never seem to have enough when she visits…”

In her excitement, Lydia did not seem to notice her footing in the way Ezra had. As she spoke, her voice suddenly became muffled as he focused on the fall about to occur. It all seemed to happen in slow motion; the way the heavy chair caged her one leg in; the way as she pivoted and caught her foot under one of the elaborate table legs. Before he knew it, Ezra was out of his seat, his arms sliding around her back as he heard her gasp of pain and felt her body pitch forward. In one swift motion, he had her foot freed from its pinned position and seated her on the table.

“Blast!” Lydia hissed, her hands flying to her bruised foot. “Stupid…clumsy…”

Annoyance flashed through him as he watched her roughly grasp her injured foot. He gritted his teeth and let out a low growl when Lydia released another hiss of pain.

“Be still,” Ezra barked sharply, catching her hand in a fierce grip.

He simply could not take her floundering anymore. As smart as she seemed to be, her touch was going to cause her more pain if she was not careful, and he simply could not have her injured right now.

Lydia’s eyes were filled with pain and narrowed at his sudden command, but she pressed her lips together and let him minister to her injuries. Drawing his focus back to her foot, Ezra slid off her shoe and stocking He heard Lydia’s breath hitch as he gently lifted her foot and inspected it. As a boxer and complete opportunist for a fight of any sort, Ezra had dealt with all sorts of wounds. He immediately knew from the bruising and swelling that all would eventually be well. Uncomfortable, but not broken. He let out a huff of breath, surprised at the relief he felt.

“It shall be sore for a day or two, but you shall be fine,” he told her, his tone its usual dull cadence.

Before he even thought about it, he slid one hand up her leg and gently massaged her calf. Her flesh felt warm and smooth beneath his palm. Pleasure skittered through his fingertips ashe continued his massage, this time feeling her lean muscles twitch under his touch. He slowly raised his eyes to hers, though suddenly realizing what he had done, he pulled his hands from her leg and offered her one to help her to stand.

“Have one of the maids run to the icehouse for you and stay still until I return around four.”

He gave the command quietly and without feeling, though inside he was anything but numb.

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