My Duke's Deception (Wicked Lords of London 2)

That was when he heard it, footsteps upon the path. He looked up to see the Earl of Grangley approaching, his jacket already off, his cravat lose. He turned to Sarah then, a new understanding dawning. He wasn’t the only man she’d been intimate with.

“Are you all right?” Ella’s voice pulled him from his memories.

He cleared his throat. “Have I been quiet too long? I’m not much for idle conversation.”

She gave him a gentle smile, which eased his racing heart considerably. “I don’t mind the silence. I find it quiet soothing. But I get the sense from you that something is amiss.”

He blinked, surprise momentarily rendering him speechless. Only Camille had ever been able to interpret his silences. Certainly never Sarah. Finally, he regained his senses enough to say. “Quite right. I was remembering my first search for Camille two years ago.”

She nodded, her eyes sympathetic. “I hope that I am helpful.” She hesitated, leaning forward in the seat. “If ever I wanted to aid someone, it’s you.”

The sincerity of her statement made his chest ache for some strange reason. It was an unknown emotion that, try as he might, he couldn’t identify. “Thank you.”

The carriage rumbled to a stop, and Matthew stepped out, helping Ella down. Tucking her gloved hand into his arm, he had the urge to pull her closer. Protect her further.

But he didn’t. Sarah had taught him well. Though Ella didn’t know he was a duke, she knew he was a man of means and after what had happened, he couldn’t trust a woman not to have ulterior motives. Though Ella had struck him as nothing but sincere, no woman needed a wealthy husband more than she did.

It was like a dream. And she never wanted to wake. Could it only be yesterday that she’d sat, huddled in a doorway, trying to keep warm in the cold London night? Now here she was, tucked into Matthew’s side, wrapped in fine clothes buying dresses, hats, gloves, and reticules. They’d eaten pasties and strolled in the park.

Now, they were heading off to tea with his friends.

Watching the London streets roll by, she wondered where she might be after this. Back in a doorway? Or somewhere with warmth and happiness?

Like this carriage.

Matthew took a deep breath across from her, and she glanced through her lashes to study him. His looks were a distraction, though she had to confess a very pleasing one. His moral fiber was reassuring, though he must think hers terribly lacking. After all, she’d offered to be his mistress.

A lump formed in her throat. Her behavior embarrassed her still. There was nothing to be done about it now and the truth was, he’d soon find another place for her to be. A gesture which she appreciated more than she could say. In the meantime, she enjoyed the fiction of being next to him.

The carriage rolled to a stop once again, and Matthew stepped out, helping her down. It was a beautiful home that stood before her and her nerves fluttered again.

As if he sensed her discomfort, he gave her hand a squeeze as he tucked into his elbow. “I told you, they will adore you.”

Her grip on his elbow tightened as then the door swung open as a butler stepped out to greet them.

“Your—” the butler began, but Matthew interrupted.

“I am not late,” he replied jovially. “If you could please inform His Grace that Mr. Rangley is here to see him along with Lady Eleanor McIntyre.”

The man gave a stiff nod. “They are expecting you along with the Lord and Lady Sussex. Right this way please.”

They followed the butler up a grand staircase, even more lavish than Matthew’s lodgings and down a wide corridor.

“I must ask,” Ella whispered as they walked. “What is it you do that you are acquainted with a duke?”

“We are all shareholders in a trading company,” he replied.

Ella looked over at him, though his face was expressionless. That explained his wealth. Finally turning, they entered a beautifully appointed sitting room that was lavishly furnished. Without meaning to, Ella smoothed the front of her dress. With each step her nerves had fluttered faster and Matthew gave her hand another discreet squeeze even as it was tucked into his arm.

She looked up at him then. Her other hand coming to the one on top of hers. “I find myself quite anxious,” she whispered.

His smile was warm but he had no chance to respond.

A voice from across the room replied, “Don’t be.”

Ella snapped her head around to see four people clustered about the pianoforte tucked into the corner. The voice had come from a lovely auburn-haired woman who looked about to play. Her smile held a warmth that eased a great deal of Ella’s nervousness.

She rose and crossed the room, giving Ella a wide smile. “I’m Tricia, and this is my husband, Ryker. We are delighted to meet you.” She gestured to the man walking behind her.