Page 99 of Dare to Love a Duke
Did she? Could she? She balanced on the edge of her wariness. A moment passed, and then another. She drew in a breath.
“Let me fetch my hat and wrap,” she said to the footman.
“I will await you downstairs, madam.” He bowed and strode away. Other tenants poked their heads out of their rooms, watching him go.
With shaking hands, Lucia draped a shawl over her shoulders and tied the ribbons of her bonnet. She glanced into the looking glass propped atop the mantel. Her wide gaze was reflected back at her, but at least the aubergine ribbon tied beneath her chin gave her face a hint of color.
You’re stalling.
She steadied herself. With a final breath, she went into the hallway, closed and locked the door behind her, and took the steps down to the ground floor.
An elegant, but unfamiliar, carriage waited outside. Children clustered around it, peering into the windows. A gentleman’s hand emerged, handing each child a coin, but the hand was unknown to her.
The footman opened the carriage door, and the gentleman inside peered out at her. He had sandy hair and an open, lively expression. Something about him seemed familiar—a not uncommon feeling for her, given the nature of managing a clandestine club.
“Miss Marini?”
“Yes,” she said cautiously.
“I’m Blakemere, your escort. Please.” He gestured to the interior of the carriage.
“Where are we going?”
He motioned for her to come closer, and she did, but she didn’t climb into the vehicle. Tom had asked her to trust him, but that trust only extended so far.
“Northfield has made substantial changes to the Orchid Club,” Blakemere said in a lowered voice. “He needs you there right away.”
Anxiety tangled in her belly. “Is that safe for him?” Their association had cost him—and her—dearly.
“He’s taking a chance, but it could pay off.” Blakemere’s gaze was surprisingly steely, as though he’d done and witnessed a great many things.
She shook her head. A lifetime of caution could not be discarded in an instant like a soiled handkerchief. “Please, tell me what I’m to expect.”
The earl shifted from resolute to charming as he offered her a crooked smile that no doubt enchanted many.
Not her. Not today. She stared back at him with the same unbending expression she used to quell unruly guests.
“I believe Northfield would like to surprise you,” Blakemere said at last. “But I do advise you strongly, no matter what you see there, it’s critical that you do not appear at all astonished. It’s all part of his plan. You’ll see.”
Doubt gnawed at her. What the earl asked, what Tom asked, required considerable faith. Could she trust him? She’d brought him into her heart, her world, opening herself to him as she had to no other.
She could not blame him. She had to own her responsibility in all this. With open eyes, she’d taken the chance to be with him. The fury she’d felt toward him was meant for herself.
If she went with Lord Blakemere, she might make the same mistake of giving in to dangerous feelings. But if she didn’t…she would always wonder,What if?
“Will you come with me now?” Blakemere asked.
She hesitated. At the least, she could tell Tom that she’d been wrong in the placement of her blame. She couldn’t undo the damage of her anger, but she could offer him an apology. If he could not forgive her…she would live with the aftereffects of her rage, hoping that the injuries she’d caused him would one day heal.
Lucia allowed the footman to help her into the carriage. The door closed behind her, the vehicle rocked from the footman climbing onto his perch, and then they were off.
“Forgive me if I’m not much for conversation,” she said to the earl as they sped down Brushfield Street.
“That’s perfectly agreeable. I can prattle enough for the both of us.”
Lord Blakemere was true to his word, filling the silence with a steady stream of cheerful talk. He explained to her that he and his wife had just come from Cornwall, and were weary but exhilarated by a considerable amount of work that came with fixing up not just a manor house but an entire village. He didn’t seem to mind that Lucia only half listened. But his chatter did give her something to focus on rather than stewing in a morass of nerves as they neared Bloomsbury. Or rather, sheattemptedto focus on his talk. Inside, she trembled and quaked. She pressed a hand to her chest as if she could somehow gentle her thudding heart, but it went on fiercely pounding.
“And now, here we are,” the earl said, at last.
