Page 60 of Ruthless with a Rogue
“Don’t sleep too late.You are to escort me to Bond Street this afternoon.”
Smiling, Derek bowed.“Of course, Your Grace.”
She rolled her eyes at his formality, and his smile widened.He resumed following Rogers, heading in the direction of his room.Having been a frequent visitor of Ironcrest House since the prior Duke’s passing, he had his own room in the family wing.Likewise, Dorothea and Rafe had rooms in the family wing at his residences as well.
They were more deserving of those rooms than any of his true family had ever been.
Derek’s gaze swept over the bustling street, the rumble of carriage wheels, and chatter of passersby blending into a distant hum.He mutely observed the dandies parading about, strutting and preening like an ostentation of peacocks, oblivious to the suffering around them, to the harsh realities of life.
Amidst the crowd, a flash of pale blonde hair caught his eye.It immediately triggered a distorted image of Livy laughing across the Rutledge dinner table.
Without warning, the scene shifted.His private rooms.Haunted blue eyes stared blindly at him from where Livy stood in the middle of his room.Tears streamed down her face.She reached for him, but before he could get to her, Pennington was there, dragging her away.She struggled against the man, eyes never leaving Derek’s.Pleading with him to save her.But Derek couldn’t move.Why couldn’t he move?
Pennington struck her, and she dropped to the ground.
Derek sucked in a strangled breath, his lungs constricted as if bound by a too-tight cravat.He shook his head but couldn’t shake off the nightmare.He couldn’t break through the surface.His limbs were too heavy to fight the dense, dark depths.He couldn’t get to her.Pennington pulled her away, dragging her behind a black-veiled doorway.Derek couldn’t save her.
Livy screamed for him.Screamed his name.But it was fading just like she was.
“Derek!”
No one was going to save her.
“Derek!Roderick.”
Nails dug into his arm, a hand squeezing firmly.He sucked in a breath and swung his face to look in the direction of the demanding voice.His vision slowly cleared, and Dorothea’s face came into focus.He glanced around.Bond Street.They were on Bond Street.Cold sweat trickled down the nape of his neck.
Dorothea’s concerned gaze searched his face.“Derek?”
He shook his head.Shook away whatever had just come over him.“Fine.I’m fine, Dorothea.”He tipped his head toward the large black sign that readPhillip’s & Co.He forced a smile.“We’ve arrived.Shall we find you your next trinket?I am thinking a heart pendant edged in diamonds with my handsome visage inlaid.”
A soft snort came from Dorothea as he led her into the shop, but he didn’t miss the concerned glance she shot his way.
The shop owner’s eyes lit upon seeing them, almost as brightly as the chandeliers and wall sconces lighting the opulent interior.He scurried out from behind a deep mahogany counter, his brown curls, as slicked over as the polished countertops, not daring to move in his frantic dash to them.
While the shopkeep presented Dorothea with various pieces of jewelry, Derek meandered through the shop.Derek rarely shopped for jewelry himself.He didn’t do mistresses.They were messy—and costly—entanglements he wanted nothing to do with.He never wanted more than one night with a woman.Scratch the itch before moving on to the next.
He wandered over to a wall of built-in mahogany shelves and traced a finger over a gold, intricately carved snuffbox.Unless it was with the wenches at his clubs.One always knew what they were getting with a wench—wares for coin—a transaction with no strings attached.No manipulation.No dishonesty.No emotions.
Maybe a visit would help him shake whatever this uneasiness was that was clinging to him.Distraction.His gut churned at the thought.No, no, definitely not.His stomach rebelled again.After last night, Pennington’s intentions… Christ, Derek didn’t know if he’d ever be able to touch a woman again.It wasn’t as though he was unaware of the cruelties of the world.He’d rescued his fair share of women who’d suffered that exact fate.Some had even been employed in Pennington’s home.But now that the victim had been Miss Forester?Fuck.His chest tightened, and a wheezing breath burst from him.
He rested a hand on the wall, drew in one slow methodical breath.Then he let it out, and along with it, all the horrors of that night.Unfeeling once more, he meandered back over to the counter where Dorothea stood examining a butterfly brooch, pearls and diamonds dotting the wings.He glanced over the assortment of jewelry with disinterest.A garnet ring.A gold bracelet.Pearl and diamond earrings.It all looked the same to him.
His gaze drifted over the next few pieces.How much longer did Dorothea need?He needed a bloody whisky.Especially after the visions that had assaulted him on the street.Yes, a bottle of whisky.He rarely over imbibed, but he thought he fucking bloody deserved it right now.
His gaze snapped back to a necklace he’d just passed over.Reaching out, he traced the delicate silver chain, the intricate swirls interspersed with pearls.
It was perfect.
“Wrap this for me.”
The shopkeeper’s and Dorothea’s gazes whipped to Derek.A subtle warmth tinged his cheekbones, but he maintained his impassive expression.Dorothea arched an eyebrow, looking between him and the necklace in question, but held her silence.
“Of course, right away, my lord.
The shopkeep’s assistant hurried forward and carefully gathered the piece, then disappeared to prepare the necklace for wrapping.Dorothea’s gaze lingered on him for a long moment, and he stood stiffly under her scrutiny.Abruptly, she returned her attention back to the array of items before her.
Derek let out a long breath.What had he just done?And better yet, why?
