Page 15 of Duke of Chaos (The Four Dukes #3)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

L ydia tossed in her bed restlessly, caught somewhere between the hazy line of exhaustion and insomnia. There had been so much to think about today. Ezra’s mother: the assailant who wanted Ezra dead, and of course, Ezra himself.

Thoughts of their lovemaking in the park had kept her body warm and tingling with excitement during the carriage ride back to Frampton. She should be ashamed, she thought, of losing her maidenhood in a public place. And yet every time she reached for regret or penance, she found herself smiling and reaching for her neck instead.

She was falling in love with the way Ezra always reached for her neck; she was falling in love with him. She couldn’t deny the jealousy she’d felt when she had seen Ezra with Sophia or the utter relief she’d experienced when he’d confessed that not only was she simply his mother, but that he had not been with another woman since they had wed. She knew then, even in the rain, even in public, that she wanted Ezra. She wanted to be his. And she wanted him to be hers. Definitively so.

Arousal filled Lydia as she thought of the way Ezra had chased her through the park; how the rain, though cold, had seemed to sizzle on her hot skin as he had drawn nearer to her. How, when he’d finally caught her, they had snapped and snarled at one another like two wild creatures. Even their lovemaking had been such.

Ezra had been as gentle as he could, but what she had not expected was her own drive, her own need to have him inside of her. Lydia smiled devilishly in the darkness, thinking of the way she had to squirm and lift her hips to take in his size; of how, despite feeling discomfort, she had still wanted more of him.

Lydia’s smile faded as she advanced her memories to the point when they had made it back to his home. Ezra had been so gentle with her in the bath, so unlike any persona she’d seen him display so far. His tending to her had been gentle but thorough, from the cleansing of her hair to the washing of her feet.

Then, when he was sure he’d gotten every speck of mud and maidenhood cleaned from her body, he’d rubbed and massaged her dry before carrying her to the settee. As he did this for her they did not speak, but she had watched him, and he had let her. He had let her see the devotion in his eyes; his reverence for her. He had not tried to hide that from her, and she understood how vulnerable he’d felt exposing his bewildering emotions.

A heavy thump suddenly scrambled Lydia’s thoughts and she opened her eyes to focus on the present. She listened for a few seconds, her spine becoming rigid with tension.

“Laura, was that you?” Lydia called, sitting up in the darkness.

From the cot on the floor, a small spark lit a candle, and Lydia saw her handmaid sitting straight up and alert, just as she was.

“No, Your Grace,” the handmaid answered quickly, her eyes wide. “It came from below us, I believe.”

Another thump sounded again; identical to the one that had pulled her from her thoughts, and her handmaid rose from the cot, her breath coming out in strained huffs. Lydia also felt her discomfort rising, and she thought of the ridiculously large guard that Ezra had left for her to soothe her worries.

It truly had been difficult leaving London without Ezra. A large part of her wanted to disobey his command and stay and wait for him. But then she remembered the look in his eyes; the intensity in his voice, and she chose to obey him.

She had been told to be careful but had been greatly alarmed when she came down the stairs of his London house dressed and ready to go, to see that guards had appeared in the foyer to escort her to her carriage. One quick look at them and Lydia knew that these were no guards of the Crown. No, these were Ezra’s men. They did not march, they did not wear uniforms. They didn’t have to, for they looked sufficiently intimidating in their all-black garments.

Her alarm for the large men had turned into annoyance, however, when she discovered that Ezra had sent word ahead of her that two guards were to be posted at her door in whatever room she was in, and that her handmaid was to be with her at all times.

“It is surely nothing, Your Grace,” Laura whispered, anxiously rubbing her hands together, “The guards would be doing something if it was.”

Another thump echoed from below, and this time Lydia pulled herself out of bed and reached for her robe.

“Your Grace, no,” Laura whispered hurriedly, stepping between her and the door.

“You are right about the guards,” Lydia replied, “So if it is not a threat, then as the lady of this house it is my duty to discover what it is. If it is my husband then I want to see him. Now please step aside.”

She had endured her personal space being violated for long enough and was willing to walk right over the girl if necessary. Whether it was for the purpose of self-preservation or obedience, Laura stepped aside and let Lydia out into the hallway. However, the moment she stepped outside, two guards stopped her in her path.

“Let me pass,” she snapped, “I need to know what all the thumping is about.”

“It is nothing to worry about, Your Grace,” one guard answered with a slight bow.

“His Grace has arrived and is looking for something. He does not wish to be disturbed,” the other advised.

Lydia felt her pulse quicken as she heard this and attempted to step around the guards. When they stepped into her path again, Lydia brought her eyes up to them as she straightened her shoulders and let her wrath unfold. She did not like the way she and Ezra had left things, and she was not going to be kept from him a moment longer.

“As the lady of this house and duchess of these lands, I command you to move out of my way. Now.” she barked, mimicking her husband’s cold, deadly energy.

The guards visibly paled in front of her, and after exchanging worried glances they stepped to the left, allowing her to move toward the stairs. No other guards she saw along the way dared to stop her, all of them bowing their heads and standing down the moment she turned her vengeful eyes on them, and she arrived at Ezra’s office without incident.

As she opened the door she heard another thump, but it was much closer this time. Worry filled her as she saw Ezra standing at his desk, a box with its lid open parked on its surface. Ezra’s half-undone white collared shirt appeared stained with sweat and his riding boots were still caked with mud from his journey. His hair was a black, matted and thoroughly soaked curly mess that hung before his wild eyes as he scanned over the multiple papers in his hands.

“It is here,” he murmured, and Lydia realized he was speaking to no one in particular. “It has to be here somewhere.”

“Ezra,” Lydia said, keeping her voice calm.

He did not hear her and kept muttering to himself as he tossed the stack of papers he was holding to the floor and retrieved another handful from the box.

“Come on, you bastard,” he said through clenched teeth, his eyes once again scanning across the pages. “Where are you!?”

“Ezra!” Lydia called louder, her worry for him deepening.

He let out a growl of anger, tossing the papers onto the floor before shoving the box off of his desk, creating another loud thunk throughout the house before he stomped off into the adjacent room where he had once let her work.

He cannot hear me, Lydia realized, taking a timid step toward the adjacent office. She had seen many of Ezra’s personalities thus far, and while some had their challenges, this was the only one that truly frightened her.

Ezra slammed another old box onto his desk and ripped open the lid. When he had begun his search he had suspected that he would find his proof easily, but as he scanned paper after paper his task became more difficult. The name Whittler had indeed been familiar. Ezra had seen it more times than he’d realized, but verification of the earl’s signature was exceedingly hard. Growing more frustrated when he again came up empty-handed, Ezra flung the box off the desk and immediately grabbed another.

“Come on,” he said aloud, shuffling through the next folder of papers, “you must have had to sign your real name on something pertaining to Father’s businesses on at least one occasion; something that required the authority of your title.”

Ezra flung the next paper away but froze when his eyes finally landed on the legible cursive signature of the one and only George Nicholson; Earl of Ridlington. Hurriedly he reached for one of the letters that had been signed by Whittler, but as he grasped for the pages, he felt them being pulled from his fingers. Startled, Ezra looked over to find Lydia standing before him with a look of grave concern in her eyes as she held the papers he needed.

For the briefest of moments, his manic condition was stilled by the relief of seeing her, but the balm was quickly washed away by the need to secure his proof.

“What are you doing?” he snapped, holding out his hand to her for the papers. “Give them back to me immediately.

“Ezra, I have called your name thrice and you did not comprehend that I was here!” Lydia replied, holding the papers behind her back.

Through his fervor to find the truth, he could blearily see the worry in Lydia’s eyes, and for a moment he almost stopped to take a breath and calm his frazzled nerves.

“Ezra, you do not look well,” she said next, her tone softer now, “Something is wrong. Your eyes are bloodshot.”

The space around them ebbed and blurred, and he felt his heart begin to hammer faster.

“Give me the papers,” he rasped, taking a step toward her.

Suddenly she was on him, capturing his face in her hands and pulling him toward her. His body rebelled at the demand to bend to another’s will, particularly at that moment, and he shoved her hands away. Lydia gasped and stumbled backward, and Ezra’s vision suddenly became crystal clear as hurt filled her eyes. Not fear or a bruised ego, but a deep, emotional hurt.

Guilt sliced through him as he took a step back to scan the floor for the papers she had taken from him.

“I told the guards I did not wish to be disturbed,” he choked out, but even as he said it he heard how pitiful the excuse sounded.

Perhaps I am turning into something worthy of pity after all . He forced himself to look at her, not yet willing to accept the title of coward.

The hurt in Lydia’s eyes had grown deeper, so much so that it made him want to gag.

“So, you did intend that order to include me, Your Grace?” she asked, her tone cold but polite as she straightened her shoulders and raised her chin.

A different type of panic suddenly arose in Ezra. Lydia had not called him by his title since they had discussed it nearly a month ago.

“This is not the time, Lydia,” he spit out, fighting to deaden the onslaught of his emotions. “Give me the papers back, please.”

“You married me to help you,” Lydia insisted, stepping away from him as he grabbed for her. “I have done nothing but succeed in that, so why not let me help you now? Why, after making love to me, are you pushing me away?”

The question hit Ezra like a brick. He had been away from her to see to their safety, but he knew that there had been another reason for his sudden departure. Some things he just had to do alone. However, this was not the time for a discussion, not with him being so close to having proof. He needed Lydia to give him those papers.

Suddenly, as if finally answering his call, he felt his old, familiar numbness cloak him in its protective shell. He welcomed it with a deep breath and turned a cold stare toward Lydia.

“As helpful as you may be at times, you are nothing but a hindrance to me right now. Give me the papers and leave.”

The gold and bronze flecks illuminated Lydia’s widened eyes, but this time Ezra did not let himself feel anything. He reached out his hand again, taking another step as a blush spread across her cheeks.

“Is that what you want?” she asked, her voice frosty and low.

Through his numbness, Ezra felt a shiver of alarm, but he shut it out and nodded.

“As you wish, Your Grace,” she answered icily, throwing the papers at his feet.

His shield of numbness cracked and shattered as Lydia slammed his study door shut behind her, and for a moment Ezra nearly stepped over the papers to go after her. However, when his eyes dropped to the floor and he saw Whittler’s elegant signature, he forgot everything else and picked up the document to examine it more closely. As he compared the signature with the one on the letter signed by George, he discovered that the two were a perfect handwriting match.

“Got you, you bastard,” Ezra proclaimed, folding the two papers together. He shoved them into his back pocket as he walked away from his mess and threw open the study door.

“Your Grace,” a guard greeted him as he stormed into the hall.

“Go fetch me a fresh horse,” Ezra commanded, “I need to get back to London straight away and I do not have time for a carriage.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” the guard answered quickly, “I have a question regarding the duchess. She has requested…”

“As long as she is protected let her do whatever she wants,” he snapped, cutting the man off, and opened the front door.

He waited outside as the guard ran to bring him the horse, giving Ezra time to double back to his office and grab his dagger and pistols. By the time he returned, the guard had a horse waiting for him. Devoid of any thought other than finally solving the murders of their fathers, Ezra urged his horse into a run and left for London.

“Your Grace,” the guard said worriedly to Lydia. “I am not sure this is wise. The duke will certainly not like this plan.”

“That will be a shame,” Lydia agreed, leaning back in her saddle, “But that is a matter I will deal with at another time.”

“If His Grace has no idea of your whereabouts, it will be sure to put him in an awful state.”

He is already in an awful state, Lydia thought, her heart sinking. She really did want to go back to him, not that she had gone far, and not that she had broken his rules. She had left as he’d instructed, had taken a guard along as he had instructed and had ridden to the fields and meadows that stretched along the Frampton countryside. After the way he had snapped at her, she could not remain in the house and needed to burn off some of her hurt and anger. She would not return until she was sure that Ezra was actually going to talk to her.

Her heart still hurt from the cold look he had given her and how roughly he’d pushed her hands away from him. It had not hurt her physically but seeing Ezra so caged and agitated and nearly feral; that is what had caused her pain.

She had needed space; an opportunity to get out of the heavily guarded house. For a brief moment she had considered going to her father’s house to visit Juliet, but she did not want to risk any questions from her father. If she went to Alice, Barbara, or Helena’s, they too would not be satisfied with her “just paying a visit” and would demand all sorts of answers.

Finally, she decided to go riding. Laura also seemed relieved by this plan and was happy to come along as her chaperone. They’d packed plenty of food and water, and instead of being wild with their horses, they had enjoyed a long, peaceful ride in the early fall weather. Although the weather and ride had indeed soothed her body, it had done little to soothe the worry in her mind and spirit.

“Your Grace, forgive me,” Laura said presently, “But perhaps our escort is correct. The stars are beginning to come out and we still have quite a journey to get back. I am…”

She paused, looking around them in the dimming light.

“I am not even sure we are in Frampton anymore, Your Grace,” she added, her tone low as if sharing a secret.

Lydia stopped her horse then and drew her attention to her surroundings. The day had come and gone, as had the light. She was alarmed to find the sky had settled into a deep purple-orange swirl, and there were indeed a few dozen stars starting to twinkle in the cosmos.

“I suppose we should,” she finally agreed, feeling a tremor of nervousness in her stomach as she spoke.

Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she did want to see Ezra, even if only to get mad at him.

“Very well, Brennan, lead us home,” Lydia said, turning her horse around.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” the guard replied, obviously relieved to be taking her back.