My Duke's Desire (Wicked Lords of London 4)

My Wicked Earl

Tammy Andresen

Lady Daffodil stood in front of the stove and willed herself not to shed tears. Not that anyone was there to notice. Well, her brother, Jacob, would see that she cried but he wouldn’t judge her. He’d most likely think any drops of liquid leaking from her eyes had been caused by all the smoke that currently filled the room.

“You did better this time, Petal.” He used her pet nickname that he’d given her as a small boy. Now that he was fifteen, he rarely used such affections. But apparently

, he thought she needed the comfort today.

Not that she didn’t appreciate the gesture but as she took the smoking roast out of the oven, a single tear leaked from her right eye. Fortunately, she had to squeeze them both shut as more smoke billowed from its belly so it most likely went unnoticed. “Doing better does not fill our stomachs. This was our last bit of meat.”

He straightened his shoulders and patted her arm. “I’ll trim it like I did last time. I’m sure we can eat some of it.”

Daffodil didn’t answer. She sometimes wondered if being the middle child made her the most worthless. She was eighteen, a full three years older than Jacob, and yet here he was comforting her.

Her eldest sister, Violette, had left with their mother to meet several potential suitors. What was Daffodil doing to aid her family’s crisis? Burning food.

In her defense, as a lady, she’d never learned to cook. But as their money had dwindled, so had their staff. Their one remaining servant, who had stayed behind to chaperone them, had fallen and was currently bedridden. Daffodil pushed back the fresh tears and told herself that crying wouldn’t help. But she wished her mother or her sister were here.

Jacob set to work trying to carve up the roast as she watched over his shoulder. But Daffodil’s thoughts immediately turned to Violette. How were her visits going? Had she made a match?

Which alternately caused her to feel guilty. She didn’t wish a terrible husband on her sister. She hoped for Violette to find happiness, not just settle for the first man who would take her. Still, their situation grew desperate and it fell to Violette to save them.

She wasn’t able to think on it further as the pounding of feet on the servant’s stairs alerted her that she and Jacob were not alone. Turning, she watched in horror as the kitchen door swung open.

“What the bloody hell is happening down here?” A stranger’s voice boomed through the smoke-filled air. Daffy couldn’t see who it was of course. “And why is no one answering the door?”

“Get behind me, Petal,” Jacob called, shoving her behind him as he swung the knife about like a rapier.

“Jacob,” she gasped. That caused her to breathe in a great deal more smoke and then to begin violently coughing.

Forgetting all about the stranger, Jacob turned back to her. “Petal? Are you all right?”

Daffodil couldn’t answer for a moment before finally, tears now streaming down her face from all the coughing, pushed out, “Didn’t I tell you that my cooking would be the death of one of us?”

A chuckle reminded her that they were not alone. But before she could do anything, strong arms were lifting her off her feet and cradling her against a massive chest. Its rock-hard muscle made her gasp again, which in turn made her cough all the more.

“Let’s get you out of here.” His deep voice rumbled through his chest, reverberating through her even as his strong arms held her tight. “Is the house going to burn down?”

She shook her head and then mentally chastised herself. He couldn’t see her through all the smoke. “No, only the roast and my sense of self-worth has suffered.”

He didn’t laugh openly, but it rumbled in his chest in a way that put her at ease.

“Come on, Jacob,” he called to her brother. “We’ve much to discuss.”

Daffy knew that she should demand he put her down, insist he tell her who he was and why he had barged into their home uninvited. But as he cradled her, for just a moment, she closed her eyes and leaned her full weight into his strong arms. She was tired.

How did Violette carry her burdens so effortlessly? She’d grown to appreciate her sister’s efforts these past weeks a great deal.

As they made their way down the hall, the smoke cleared and Daffy looked up to the man who carried her. Her eyes widened as she assessed his features. She noted his strong jaw first, a day’s growth of beard making it appear rough and masculine. His eyes were a distinctive shade of blue, dark and stormy that only added to the air of mystery about him. Dark hair curled about his collar and ears, and she wished to reach up and touch it. Highly inappropriate, she knew, but then again, he was carrying her.

“Where is the nearest sitting room?” He looked down at her then and her breath stopped. Though his nose was slightly crooked, as though it had been broken, he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen.

She reminded herself to breathe as she tried to speak, but no words came out.

“The only one we use is upstairs and to the right.” Jacob called behind her.

“Why is that the only one you use?” the man looked about their townhouse. She could see him noting the blank walls, the dirty lights.