Marquess of Menace (Lords of Scandal 10)

Hanging onto his memory had been the one light that had pulled them through the darkness of their mother’s death.

Her head swam and Dylan pulled her tighter against his chest. She heard him speak but didn’t really process the words. “Is there anything else we should know?”

“Keep her safe,” Dishonor answered. “I know where the club is. I can get information to both of you there.”

She rested her head on Dylan’s chest and she was aware of him half-carrying her back to the carriage. If Bash was concerned about the familiarity, he said little as he followed behind them.

He was right. She was tired. Deep down in her soul, exhausted.

He didn’t even bother to try and hand her into the vehicle. Instead, he swung her into his arms and climbed in, settling her on his lap. She was like a limp rag. She couldn’t seem to get her body to work no matter how hard she tried.

Bash cleared his throat. “Menace.”

“Not now,” Dylan grit out, settling her even closer.

She didn’t resist. He was strong and warm as he supported her full weight, cradled against his large body.

She wrapped her arm about his waist and that’s when she realized that she was crying. Big tears that slid down her cheeks and landed on his waistcoat.

And then a sob broke free.

He didn’t know this, of course, but she’d hardly even cried when her mother had passed. She’d allowed herself a few private tears when her sisters couldn’t see, but she’d had to be strong for them.

But held against Dylan, she couldn’t push back the wave of emotion that crashed over her and another sob broke loose. It was as if she was finally able to grieve. Here, in this moment, she didn’t need to be strong. He could hold that job. She was free to allow her feelings out.

He held her tighter to his chest, his cheek coming down to rest on the top of her head. “I’ve got you,” he said in a whisper. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

She swallowed down a lump as she continued to cry.

He stroked his hand up and down her back, his deep voice low and melodious as he mumbled unintelligible words of comfort.

How had she not realized what a relief it would be to rely on someone else? She’d needed her sister, Isabella, of course. But she’d never given over control like this.

She didn’t wish to be weak, but it was so…nice to have someone else be her strength for once. And somehow, she trusted him to still respect her, to support without judgment. The magnitude of that thought settled over her. Never in her life had she given over this sort of control to

another person. She trusted him…

“I…” she started, her voice breaking on the single word. “I don’t know why I’m so upset. I just…”

She shook her head, rubbing her face along his coat. She was lost in this moment. Where did she go from here?

“You learned your father is dead, and your plans needed to be put on hold, and that your uncle is even worse than you thought. Allow yourself a good cry, love. You’ve earned it.” The words were murmured into her hair and they sparked a fresh round of tears. And another wave of appreciation.

“I’m never leaving England, am I?” she asked into the quiet of the carriage.

She felt his smile against the top of her head. “That is up to you still. Didn’t you hear the man? You’re rich.”

She drew in a sharp breath. It seemed to fill her lungs with air but her muscles with some strength. “Are you suggesting I leave my sisters to fend for themselves?”

“First off, I don’t think you should go anywhere,” Bash said from the other seat.

Eliza started. She’d forgotten Bash was there. But of course he was. He was her guardian now; he wouldn’t have left her in a carriage alone with an unmarried man.

She’d gotten used to being independent in those months they’d been without either of their parents.

A plan was beginning to form in the back of her mind. Hazy and unclear, she needed some solitude to put it all together.

Which she’d get later. Right now, she intended to stay in Dylan’s arms. Because as much as she valued her independence, there was something undeniably wonderful about relying on this man’s strength.