Misleading a Duke. A.S. Fenichel

An hour later, voices in the common room of our apartments woke me. A chair scraped and a man spoke in hushed tones. My first response was worry for Léonie, but then I heard her voice as well. She didn’t sound afraid. Her tone was low, conspiratorial.

      “Caught up in my rage, I stupidly flung the bedroom door wide.” He shook his head and ran his fingers through his cropped dark-brown hair. “They were only shocked for a moment before one of two men ran at me. I must have been quite a sight, wearing only a nightshirt. I managed to evade the attack, causing him to stumble and crash to the floor. The second man ran out the door. I expected Léonie to do the same, but she stayed. Brandishing a short sword, she charged toward me.

      “Gone was the beautiful woman who’d bedded me an hour before. She was transformed into a vicious killer. Her blond hair was wild and loose and her eyes filled with hate. She said, ‘Why couldn’t you just stay in bed? This would all be over in a few days and you could have walked away.’ I had no idea what she meant, but as her blade impaled my chest, it didn’t matter.”

      Faith gasped.

      Nick chuckled and rubbed his chest just above his left breast. “I wouldn’t have thought her so strong, but she ran me through. An inch lower and I’d have been dead in an instant. The man who’d stumbled when I moved, got up off the floor. The only weapon at my disposal was jutting from my body. I pulled it out and slashed him across the throat. Wide-eyed, he grabbed his gushing throat and collapsed to the floor.”

      “Léonie wailed out a cry, and I turned toward the sound. She ran directly into her own sword, still in my bloody fist.” Head hanging, Nick cradled his face in his hands. “I called the surgeon, but there was nothing to be done for her. She cursed me until she died.”

      For several seconds, Faith couldn’t utter a word. He blamed himself for Léonie’s death, but it had not been his fault at all. She had gotten what was coming to her. Fiercely protective, Faith wanted to tell him, but instead asked, “What of your wounds, Nick?”

      His eyes burned with regret and self-loathing. “The surgeon mended me and nothing internal was damaged. It was a miracle.”

      Despite his sarcasm, she agreed with the words. “It was that. Where did you go from Vienna? Surely you didn’t stay in the city after such an ordeal.”

      “Clever girl.” He smiled warmly at her. He sipped the wine from a crystal glass. “No. I returned to England to recover right here at Parvus. Geb and I had been friends for six months. It was only meant to be a business arrangement, but there is something about him that makes me trust him above all others. My parents were alerted to my condition and came here for a few weeks. The food nearly killed me, but my wound healed.”

      “And your heart?” She held her breath.

      His long look pierced her soul. “As I said, nothing ever touched my heart. At least, not where Léonie was concerned.”

      Unable to look away from his eyes the color of the morning sky before the sun was fully risen, she met his stare and prayed she could find her voice again. Clearing her throat, she said, “It must have been terrible for you to be betrayed in such a way.”

      He shrugged. “An occupational hazard, I’m afraid.”

      “But you have given up that life, have you not?”

      A forlorn smile and he studied at his hands in his lap. “Tell me about these Wallflowers of yours.”

      She wanted to weep at the sight of such sorrow. Instead she let the joy of her friendships tug her out of her gloom. “You said to tell you one thing I admire in each of them.” Faith loved the women she’d met at school. She believed there was the family you were born into and the one you gather for yourself. In the case of the Wallflowers of West Lane, they were as much family to her as her own mother and father, perhaps more so.

      “Shall I start with Poppy?” she asked.

      “She is the one I know best. I could not dislike her despite my desire to do so after finding out about the spying.” He shook his head, a pleasant grin transforming him and making him breathtaking.

      “Poppy is fearless. Well, that’s not exactly true. She may fear a thing, but she never lets that fear stop her. In fact, I think when she finds herself afraid of something, she immediately sets out to climb that mountain.”

      Nick offered his hand as he stood. “And what of you, Faith? Are you brave?”

      Accepting his offer, she stood and, hand wrapped in his, they walked through the flowers and plants being kept vibrant out of season, for their delight. Several full-grown orange trees had been potted and bore fruit inside the warm environment. “No. I am afraid of many things and not nearly as brave as Poppy. She never conforms to make anyone happy. It is marvelous.”

      He wrapped her hand around his arm while keeping his hand atop hers. “I think you underestimate yourself. There is nothing wrong with wanting to please people.”

      “Perhaps.” Though she doubted the truth of it. She did manage to get her own way most times. After all, she had stolen away from the city to lure Nick to a secluded castle, and they were getting to know each other. Mother and Father would be apoplectic if they knew.

      “What about Aurora? Do you admire some trait of hers?”

      “Most people would say her beauty is her most appealing trait.” Faith shook her head. “They would be wrong. I mean to say, Aurora is quite beautiful. She is perfectly formed with good height, while not too tall or short, and her figure is perfectly balanced. She has exactly what society looks for in a lady. Perhaps that is why she manages to make the ton think she is just like them. Maybe that is why she could hide what Radcliff did to her. She is the strongest person I’ve ever known. No amount of horror changed her from the wonderful person she is. Radcliff couldn’t break her spirit and, by God, he tried.”

      “Then it is her strength of character that you admire?” Nick wound them around another small grove of orange trees potted near the back of the building. They were only there to keep warm until spring when they would be dragged back outside to flourish and produce flowers.

      “Yes. Aurora never wavers.” Her friend was like a golden statue, always the same. Always dependable.

      “That’s good, because if it was her figure, I would have to tell you that while Lady Radcliff is lovely, your figure is spectacular. Every curve begs for a man to look and touch.” He said the last in a sultry voice.

      Her insides quivered with the satisfaction of knowing he liked the way she looked. She was not what the ton admired, but his wanting to touch her made up for the slights she had endured over the years. “My mother would beg to differ. She prayed I would get my figure from her side of the family, but I am much like my grandmother on my father’s side.”

      “I would not wish to disagree with your mother, so I will stay silent on the matter. Is your grandmother still alive?” He changed the subject.

      Nodding, she thought of Grandmother. “She lives in Sussex. I visit when I can. She is funny and brazen in many ways. She and I have always gotten along famously.”

      “I should like to meet her.” They rounded the front of the hothouse, but Nick turned them inward away from the glass wall and through a forest of tropical trees. “That leaves Mercedes.”

      “Mercy, like Grandmother, uses humor to barrel through any situation. I don’t know how she manages it, but she finds something funny in nearly every moment of life. I also wish I could play any instrument as well as she plays no less than six.”

      “Six?” He stopped and faced her.

      “Oh yes. At last count, she had mastered pianoforte, harp, flute, clarinet, lute, and some stringed instrument that her aunt had brought in from Spain. I love the sound of that one. It’s low and sensual somehow.” She blushed at her own musings. “Do you know it?”

      Pulling her to a stop, he faced her, cradling her face in his hands. “It’s called a guitar