Page 74 of A Lady's Lesson in Scandal
‘Fuck. That could have gone better.’
Drake ran his hand over his spikey hair and blew out a long breath.
What was he supposed to do? Agree to willingly put the most precious thing in his life in lethal danger? Impossible.
She asked me to trust her. But how can I trust fate to keep her safe?
He shook his head. No. She needed some time and space to think this through, and then she would come around to his decision. It was the only way to ensure she stayed here. With him. Safe. Alive. Protected.
Trapped.
His stomach rolled, and Drake sat heavily on the bed.
Dear God. Had he made a terrible mistake?
Have I lost her anyway?
His fluttering heart gave a painful thump.
17
Drake couldn’t return to sleep after Millie left. Though it was unfashionably early, he dressed without disturbing his valet and walked into the breakfast room to find Reynard walking out.
‘Rough night?’ Reynard’s famous smile tempted Drake to punch him. Right in the teeth.
‘You’re up early.’ Drake refused to take Reynard’s bait.
‘Haven’t you heard? There’s word that one of the maid’s sisters has gone missing. A local girl. The family is organising a search party. I thought it might be wise to join them. I’m heading that way now. I would extend you an invitation, but I think perhaps some food and coffee first, hey?’
Drake scowled. ‘What do you mean?’
Reynard sucked air through his teeth. ‘I mean, you look like shit. Take a moment. Get your thoughts together. Eat something. These search parties always take an age to organise. You won’t miss anything by being an hour late.’
Damn it! He’s right. I’m letting my stupid heart mess with my head.
He needed to refocus on the investigation. The sooner he put this case to bed, the sooner he could convince Millie that he wasn’t some kind of monster trying to take away her freedom.
Except that’s exactly what I’m trying to do.
Reynard slapped him on the back. ‘Cheer up, old man. You’re two days away from wedded bliss. And we’re going to catch a break on this case. I know it. Finish your breakfast. I’ll see you in the village square.’ He stood, tugging down his coat and winking at Drake. ‘Maybe you can fill me in on whatever stick is rammed up your arse when you get there.’
‘The only stick up my arse is you,’ he muttered as Reynard strolled out, passing the duchess as she entered.
Did no one sleep past nine in the bloody morning?
Filling his plate with eggs, haddock, and mushrooms, Drake paused to slather preserves on a thick slice of toast. He didn’t want to eat any of it, but there was no need to alert the duchess to his state of deep unrest. Slumping in a chair, Drake poured coffee from a carafe, took a long swallow, and scalded his tongue.
‘Shit,’ Drake growled.
Lady Winterbourne walked past the food, and before he could stand and pull out her chair, she did so herself. Sitting next to him, the striking, terrifying, powerful woman pulled a cup and saucer closer. She filled the painted porcelain teacup with coffee.
She drank the brew black. No sugar. No cream.
‘Good morning, Your Grace. I hope you slept well.’ He hated small talk, but when one sat with a friend of the Queen, one put forth their best manners.
‘I did.’ Philippa glanced at him, raising a perfectly sculpted black brow. ‘You did not.’ This close, Drake could see where her smooth skin was marred by fine wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. Instead of diminishing her fierce beauty, it highlighted the striking combination of cobalt irises framed by thick, blacklashes and crimson lips contrasting against white teeth. He couldn’t imagine a man strong enough to match the Duchess of Dorsett.
‘You don’t miss much, Lady Winterbourne.’
