Page 2 of Defying the Duke
“I’m fine, Your Grace. Thank you.”
Abingdon turned to the other man, who, surprisingly, hadn’t left. “What are you doing here, Peter?”
He knew the man?
Peter raked his fingers through his black hair, then straightened his waistcoat. “Has it been so long since you’ve had a woman that you have to ask?” He chuckled.
Dinah gasped, but before she could deny the inference, Abingdon had taken two steps to close the distance and grabbed the man’s lapel.
“Do not even suggest such a thing regarding this woman.” Abingdon’s normally deep voice scraped the bottom of the register of her hearing. He sounded more than threatening. He promised severe punishment if Peter didn’t listen.
Peter laughed again as though this was a nightly conversation between good friends. “I see. I hadn’t realized I was trespassing on your property. She isn’t as glamorous as your usual playthings.”
Abingdon’s hands fisted, and Dinah was afraid he would hit the man. She quickly said, “Nothing happened, Your Grace. He must have been looking for your office and came to mine by mistake.”
The duke’s hand flexed, but he remained focused on Peter. “My brother knows I’m not in my office at this hour.”
For a moment, Dinah could only stare upon hearing this bit of news. The drunken stranger who’d tried to force himself on her was the duke’s brother, Peter Hill. Then, hoping to cut through some of the palpable tension, Dinah laughed lightly. “You’ve commented on how quickly time passes when one is playing at the tables. He might not have realized it was growing late.”
Looking back over his shoulder, Abingdon met her gaze. His mien was as fierce as when he’d first arrived. “Were you expecting him?”
“What?” She hoped her expression didn’t display her true distaste at the idea before she schooled her features. “I—”
The duke faced her fully, his hands on his hips. “I thought we made it clear when you began working with your father that you weren’t to associate with the guests.”
“I—”
Abingdon continued. “It’s only due to Mr. Westfall’s lengthy employment with my uncle that I was able to convince Dainsfield and Nomansland to hire a woman in the office. If they hear—”
“Will you let me speak?” Dinah interrupted. “I don’t know this man. I had no…assignation or any other sort of plans to meet with him. You do my father’s memory no respect by assuming the worst of my character, Your Grace. I was trying to lock up for the evening, but since you’re here now, I shall trust you to lock the door behind you.”
She turned to leave but caught herself. Remembering her manners, she took a deep breath and smiled politely. “That is, if you don’t require anything else of me this evening.”
The corner of Abingdon’s lips twitched. “You’re free to go. You, as well,” he added and grabbed Peter’s arm. He led the man to the hallway, then stepped aside in the doorway to allow Dinah to exit. He locked the door behind them, then turned his harsh demeanor on Peter. “Your membership to Sutcliffe’s is revoked. You will not enter the premises for any reason, under any circumstances. Do you understand?”
Peter smirked. “Loud and clear.” He offered a lazy bow to the duke and sauntered off to the far staircase.
Dinah turned toward the servants’ stairs. “Good evening, then, Your Grace.”
Abingdon fell into step beside her. “I’ll see you home.”
“There’s no need,” she said. “It’s not far, and I’m sure your warning was understood.”
“It’s dark. You shouldn’t be walking the streets alone at night.”
Dinah wondered how he thought she shopped and ran errands before she’d come to work there. She was the daughter of a bookkeeper, not a member of Polite Society, despite her grandfather being a baron. She didn’t have a lady’s maid to accompany her everywhere, and her sister wasn’t always free to tag along. “It’s early. I’m hardly the only working girl returning home at this hour.” She didn’t add that at her age, twenty-six, and dressed in a serviceable day gown, she wasn’t likely to catch any man’s eye on the street.
When they reached the ground floor, Abingdon held open the door to the lobby. Dinah turned toward the other door, which led to the street. The duke quickly switched doors and followed her onto the pavement. “I insist.”
“Very well, it’s your time.”
The street was busy with hackney cabs and pedestrians heading in either direction, like most nights when Dinah walked home. No one paid them any mind, but she was very aware of who the man walking next to her was. The Duke of Abingdon was at the top of the prospective husbands list drawn up by marriage-minded mamas, according to her sister, Chrissy. His name filled the columns of the society gossip sheets, either alongside that of his latest courtesan or in reference to some business venture he and his partners had undertaken. Her father rarely spoke about the men he worked for, so she knew nothing of the real man.
“I was rude back there,” Abingdon said, breaking their silence. “I apologize.”
“It was an upsetting situation. I’m the one who should apologize. You came to my rescue.”
“Has he—Peter, my brother, has he been in the basement before? Have you seen him, I should say.”