Page 9 of Doubling Down on a Duke
They were on the hunt for three women traveling, but it made no sense for the thieves to be heading back south.
“It could be a mere coincidence,” Helen muttered as if she could hear his thoughts, but it was more likely she was talking to herself and her thoughts merely coincident with his, which had often occurred when they were younger.
“I would have agreed; however, Lady Phoebe and Kilman are quite close.” He added, “But why would the ladies be traveling back south?”
“Hmmm… Could it be that the Network was misinformed…might the ladies be in fact heroines trying to return the stolen goods rather than the culprits of the theft?”
“Why would three unwed women involve themselves in such a scheme?” He shook his head and then scoffed, “How couldtheypull off what the Network failed to do?”
“Don’t underestimate what wallflowers and spinsters are capable of without the assistance of men.” Helen plucked a key from his hand and marched toward the stairs.
He’d done it again, managed to firmly plant his foot in his mouth. He should have known better than to parrot his father’s ideas. Wasn’t that one of the reasons he wanted to marry Helen? To break free the mold he’d been trapped in? He wanted to be more like Helen’s papa, except it was obvious he had a lot of growth to do before coming close.
Lengthening his stride, he caught up to Helen and said, “What do you think of the idea of rescuing Lord Kilman from the innkeeper first before we retire to our rooms?”
With her foot planted on the riser, she twisted to look back at him. “Hmmm. My impression of Lady Phoebe and Lord Kilman’s relationship varies from yours.”
“How so?”
“I wouldn’t classify the pair as close. From what I recall of their interactions over the years, I’d say they can barely tolerate one another.”
“Ahh…but you are not privy to what is shared at the club. I can assure you Kilman is not oblivious as he may appear. He’s simply afraid of…” He let his sentence hang since he was about to break a code of trust and share the same fear he too suffered from—the fear of rejection.
“What? What is Kilman afraid of?” Helen asked.
“Nothing. Trust me, if Kilman is indeed here with the intent of intercepting Lady Phoebe, he has information we need.” He stepped past her, grabbed her hand, and led her up the rest of the stairs. With her hand in his, he once again felt like he could conquer the world. Helen completed him in a way he never quite understood, but the feeling was undeniable. If only she felt the same about him.
CHAPTER TEN
The last time she’d held hands with Bryce was many summers ago as they ran through the woods, free from worry. Did he remember?
Helen glanced at her husband whose face bore the fine lines of age that made him all the more handsome and her heart pound harder. Her gaze involuntarily lowered and settled upon the man’s lips. Memories of her first and only kiss came flooding back. She pressed her lips together tight, mimicking the pressure of his mouth on hers all those years ago. Why were her memories taunting her amidst a mission? She needed to focus, not reminisce over a time that her husband had probably long forgotten, replaced by more recent encounters with ladies with far more experienced than she. The metal key pressed against her palm as she balled her hand into a tight fist. Thank goodness that there were two chambers available and not just one for the evening. Her forehead bumped into Bryce’s back and he frowned down at her as she looked up and muttered a quick apology. “Sorry.”
They stood in front of a chamber door with a brass number three hung in the middle. “I might not be Kilman’s closest friend, but we are acquainted with one another.”
“Then I shall leave the questioning to you this time.” Feeling brave, she mimicked his most arrogant facial expression and arched her eyebrow.
Rather than being flustered like she was when he gave her “the look,” Bryce chuckled and replied, “That might be wise.”
The rumble of laughter in his tone had her flummoxed as to what the man found so amusing. He rapped his knuckles on the wood and the door latch rattled.
“Wh-Whistlestop?” Lord Kilman greeted as he swung the door wide open. When he spied her next to Bryce, he nodded and smiled at her as if they were meeting at a ball and not in the middle of the hallway of a countryside coaching inn. “Lady Helen.”
Lord Kilman was stripped down to his lawn shirt that was untied and hung loose at the neck, exposing a rather large expanse of the man’s sculpted chest. She lowered her gaze as heat flooded her cheeks. “A good evening to you, my lord.”
Her husband tugged her behind him and tensed. “Good lord, man, get some clothes on.”
“Ms. Baker, it appears I have company. The bath will have to wait.”
The scuffle of boots was followed by the patter of the innkeeper’s feet. “Yes, my lord.” The woman’s displeasure quickly disappeared as she took the crown Bryce held out for her between his fingers. “Thank ye. Just ring if ye need anything.”
Bryce’s grip on her hand tightened. She’d forgotten he still had hold of her.
“Would you like to come in or shall we reconvene in the parlor downstairs?” Lord Kilman asked.
Her husband strode forward and she had to practically leap to keep up with him since he hadn’t released her, and gauging by his ironclad hold he had no intention of letting her go. She shifted to stand slightly behind Bryce, attempting to makeherself invisible, but he tugged her hand forward and then released it only to loop her arm through his. He covered her hand with his as if securing her in place. In all the years she’d known Bryce, he’d never once acted possessive of anyone and especially not of her. While she found his behavior peculiar, the small gesture had her once again experiencing the feeling of being wanted and protected, which was admittedly rather nice and comforting, and long missed.
Lord Kilman donned his jacket and as he slipped the buttons into place said, “I assume by the way you are fawning over Lady Helen, congratulations are in order.”
