Page 59 of If Not for the Duke

Tears filled Lena’s eyes, and she drew a shuddering breath. To think she wasn’t alone. That she wasn’t the only one who had these feelings was overwhelming and such a comfort.

The duke lifted his gaze to meet hers, and she knew that somehow, he knew she had that gift as well. “The day I met your grandmother, she told me I would propose to her one day. I dismissed the remark as we were young. Too young. We’d only just met, and it wasn’t as if our families were arranging a marriage between us.”

“But you did,” Lena whispered, loving the story.

“I did. Three years later. I was thrilled when she accepted. Of course, she had to remind me that she’d known all along that we belonged to each other.” His smile held the light of fond memories.

Lena pressed a hand to her aching heart, touched by the sweet tale. “Did Mother know?”

Her grandfather heaved a sigh. “No. After your grandmother died giving birth to her, I found it difficult to speak of her. I suppose I left that to the servants to do. That was one more mistake I made with your mother. One of many.”

“She never mentioned anything to me. She didn’t quite know how to help me with the premonitions I have. But she never dismissed them. I’m sorry to say I’m not like Grandmother. The feelings aren’t always right. Nor can I call them on demand.” She lifted her hand in the air only to let it fall back to her lap. “They are of little aid.” She didn’t add that she hadn’t managed to save her father the day he died.

Grandfather smiled again. “I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss them. Your grandmother said she had to allow them in. To coax them forth at times and give them room. But the same was true for her—they weren’t something she could order about.”

“I’m so pleased you told me about her. The ability is often unsettling and…odd. It’s lovely to think I have it in common with her.”

“After dinner, there’s something I want to show you.” He glanced at Davies, who waited patiently for them to finish. “Let us have dessert and then I’ll meet you in the drawing room.”

Lena couldn’t imagine what he wanted to show her. He normally retired to his study after their meals together. Having a little additional time with him was a gift. If someone would’ve told her when she and her sisters first arrived in London that they would share meals and meaningful conversations as often as they did, she would’ve said they were mad. The gruff, distant man who’d refused to acknowledge them or speak to them was only a memory. Her and her sisters’ gradual success in wearing away his defenses was a testament to the power of patience and persistence.

In short order, she waited for him in the drawing room, staring at the cheerfully burning fire. Her thoughts once again returned to the question of who had struck Bernie, but no answer came to mind.

“Here we are.” Grandfather walked in, holding a small velvet box as he sat on the settee with her. “This was your grandmother’s. I would like you to have it. I think she would, too.”

Lena gently took the green velvet box and opened it. “A locket. It’s beautiful.” The gold oval was filigreed and lovely. Inside was a pressed flower, its purple petals still vibrant. Lena’s heart filled with peace as she ran a finger over the delicate chain.

“Consider it a talisman of sorts. One that might help you with your gift. To allow your mind to open when the universe has something it wants you to know.”

She fastened it around her neck and held the locket with two fingers. “Thank you. It means so much. More than you can possibly know.” She leaned forward to hug him, pleased when he hugged her back.

“I hope we can find some sort of proof that Clarke is, indeed, digging in the wrong place,” he said when he eased back to hold her gaze. “His supposed success has come far too quickly. That alone makes it seem unlikely.”

A mix of hope and joy filled her at his words, along with determination. “It does, indeed.”

*

Sterling sat atthe breakfast table the next morning when much to his surprise Bernie entered the room.

“Should you be up and about?” he asked, his hand pausing mid-air from reaching for his coffee.

“My head is a bit better today.” She patted his shoulder as she passed by to take the seat Foster held for her. The pat didn’t reassure him in the least.

“Only a bit?” That didn’t sound like enough improvement to justify her presence at the breakfast table. He would much rather she stayed abed.

“You must not worry so, Sterling.” She smiled as Foster poured her tea. “I will rest later if I feel worse. For now, I would much prefer to have something to occupy my thoughts other than my aching head. And I’m hungry.”

He frowned, able to see her point, but hoped she wasn’t pushing herself too quickly.

“Did you speak with Lena?” She took a piece of sausage along with some scrambled eggs, which helped to convince him that her appetite hadn’t diminished.

He shared a small portion of his conversation with Lena, reluctant to say too much about her insistence that Clarke was digging in the wrong location. He didn’t pretend to understand why Lena held that opinion.

“Did her servants see anything helpful?”

“Unfortunately, not. The driver heard a carriage leaving soon after he arrived, which might’ve been the thief. But he paid it no mind at the time and could offer nothing in the way of a description.” He took a sip of his coffee as he watched Bernie spread butter and jam on her toast.

Her face was still pale, and he had the feeling she was doing her best to pretend she felt better than she did. He couldn’t blame her. He wouldn’t have liked to stay in bed either.

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