Page 37 of When He Was a Duke
“May I be of service?”
“There’s nothing to be done. He’s here. Baron White, that is. And he’s as horrid as I remember. I don’t know how I can possibly…marry him.”
He knew she referred to all that marriage entailed, including giving her body to him. Sebastian’s hands tightened on the ladder rung behind him. The thought of that man touching her—
“My lady, there’s something I must tell you. Something that I think will give you hope.”
She looked up at him, her face awash in the morning sun. He would count her freckles if he could. Instead, he had to give her a little something to keep her from despair.
“What I’m about to tell you must stay between us.”
“Yes, all right.”
“Mr. Hale has hired a detective to look into Baron White’s past.”
Rose staggered backward as if he’d struck her. Her basket tumbled to the ground, the book falling open in the grass. “What?” She pressed a hand to her throat. “A detective? But why—how do you—” Sheshook her head rapidly. “Why would he do such a thing?”
“He wants to protect you. They all do. Mrs. Carter. Mrs. Blythe. Prudence and Mary. They’re all very worried about you.”
For a long moment, Rose said nothing. Then she sank into the damp grass, her skirts billowing about her, her face buried in her hands. “Oh, the dears. The absolute dears.” When she looked up at him, tears had gathered in her eyes. “A detective. Someone is actually trying to help me.”
Sebastian knelt in the grass beside her, fighting the urge to take her in his arms. “Mr. Hale believes if he can find something scandalous or dangerous, then it will save you from having to marry him.”
“How do you know this?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“He told me.”
“But why?” Rose’s expression began to shift, wonder giving way to suspicion. “He doesn’t know you. You’re a gardener. Why would he share something so intimate with you?”
Sebastian’s chest tightened. He tried to think of an answer but came up with nothing. A rising panic made it hard to breathe. She was absolutely right. It made no sense that Hale would speak to him in that way.
“Sebastian? What aren’t you telling me? Did you know him before you came here?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it. The truth sat on his tongue like poison—that he was no gardener, that his real name was not Doyle, that everything about their meeting had been calculated. That her father had destroyed his family. That he’d come here for revenge, not romance.
“Mr. Hale asked me to look after you, as I mentioned before,” he said finally, the words feeling like stones in his mouth. “During that conversation, he said that he’d recently hired a detective.”
Her expression had turned to granite right before his eyes. He’d not seen her look this way in any of the times they’d shared together.She’d always looked at him with curiosity and delight. Now, her eyes had hardened into two scuffed emeralds.
“I tell you only to give you hope,” he said, feeling suddenly quite desperate. “You mustn’t despair, please. The way you’ve conducted yourself, with such goodness and generosity, has endeared you to the staff. They would do anything for you.”
She studied his face as if seeing him for the first time. “There’s more to your story, isn’t there? Things you’re not telling me about your past. The way you can read and the way you speak—they indicate an educated man. Not a man destined to be a gardener.”
Sebastian’s throat went dry. “I’ve told you about my mother.”
“Yes, you have.” She bowed her head, tenting her hands as if to pray. “Still, there’s more that you’re not telling me. I don’t know why you would lie to me, but I know what I can see—that despite whatever secrets you carry, you’re a compassionate, warm man who has made me feel less alone.”
The words made his fingers tingle. Here she was, praising his character while he deceived her with every breath. If she knew who he really was, what he was really after, would she hate him for it?
“All I want of late is to be here in the gardens with you,” she said softly. “It’s the only time I feel truly myself. Which makes no sense at all.” She lifted her gaze to meet his. “What am I to do now? Trust a detective I’ve never met? Trust servants who, however dear they may be, have no real power? Trust you, when I’m not even certain who you are?”
The pain in her voice made him want to confess everything. He reached for his handkerchief, his hands trembling slightly. “You must continue as you are, trusting that Hale will find a way out of your marriage to White. Allow the people who love you to look after you.”
“And if this detective finds nothing? Or if he finds something on Baron White, but Father simply chooses another terrible man for me to marry?” A tear trickled down her cheek. “What then?”
He pressed his handkerchief gently against her cheek, and she covered his hand with both of hers. The touch sent fire through his veins. “Then we’ll find another way,” he whispered, though he had no idea what that way might be.
She held his gaze for a long moment, her fingers warm against his knuckles. “We? You speak as if you’ll still be here. As if whatever brought you here in the first place won’t eventually call you away.”
