Page 32 of Duke of Eccess (Seven Dukes of Sin #4)
Sophie lay in bed the next morning with her swollen ankle propped on pillows, wrapped in cool bandages. If they hadn’t been fleeing from Mr. Finch, if Temperance hadn’t been so desperate to escape, the child would be skipping about the schoolroom this morning rather than confined to bed.
“Would you read something for me, Miss Fields, please?” the little girl asked hopefully.
“Of course,” Temperance said and sat by her bed. Margaret joined them.
But before she could start reading, Sophie asked, “Why did that man call you Lady Agatha Hale?”
Fear stabbed her. She hated lying to these children who had become so much more important to her than she’d ever intended.
But she had to.
“Never mind that man,” Temperance said, feeling her cheeks redden, and she pulled out The Four Chevaliers .
“He confused me for someone else, and I am sure all he wanted was the heavy purse his grace gave me. I’m sorry you had to go through that.
But James—” She looked up at the young boy, who, to her surprise, also came closer.
“James, you were so brave, my darling boy. You practically saved us.”
A blush covered James’s cheeks as he looked down at his hands with shyness. “Well, I didn’t quite manage to save us,” he said, very like a grown man, and nodded at Sophie. “Someone did get hurt.”
“It’s nothing,” said Sophie. “The four knights serving King Louis IX risked much worse.”
Temperance smiled sadly, but that did nothing to relieve her guilt. Poor brave Sophie shouldn’t have been hurt at all.
Perhaps she should leave after all, if only to protect the children from further danger.
But how could she leave poor Sophie, James, and Margaret now that they needed her even more?
The least she could do was to care for Sophie until her ankle got better.
Margaret’s wide eyes as she asked her if Temperance wanted to leave because they’d been bad had broken her heart.
She was sure Bartholomew and Lady Auster would have heard about this incident already. They would already be making another plan to get to her. Just like her, they were very well aware of the clock ticking. It would be hard for her to leave the children’s bedchamber without the danger of pursuit.
What about the pawn ticket? she reminded herself. Could she find the courage to try to get it?
Fear shot through her. Say she did manage to slip past the men watching Eccess’s house, say she did manage to sneak in and get the ticket—then what?
She’d need to actively confront Lady Auster and Bartholomew, threaten to expose his theft publicly, and start the criminal proceedings her kindhearted papa had been too generous to pursue.
But what would stop them from simply taking the ticket from her by force?
Perhaps she could leave sealed copies with Enveigh first, with instructions to deliver them to the authorities and newspapers if anything happened to her—but what use would copies be?
Surely they would merely argue that they had been forged.
Temperance’s spine chilled as she imagined her stepmother and Bartholomew overpowering her, a priest willing to claim he’d heard yes from her lips even as she screamed no, or a black carriage ready to take her to the asylum.
No. She couldn’t. She wasn’t strong enough. Bartholomew’s fingers digging into her flesh, his cruel words, her stepmother’s efforts to humiliate her reminded her how vulnerable she was.
She just needed to wait it out. Eleven days left.
Temperance read to Sophie and Margaret for a while and even James stayed to listen.
It was like the three siblings were united together, needing comfort.
The morning slipped by easily, and after luncheon, she was entreated to continue reading.
The room was warm, and here it felt as though nothing could harm her…
“Miss Fields,” came a voice from the door.
When Temperance looked up, it was Mrs. Davies. “Yes?”
“You’re needed downstairs. It appears the Duke of Enveigh has requested you.”
Enveigh? Requested her presence? After he had previously come to the mews so the Duke of Eccess wouldn’t know they’d met?
She didn’t like this at all. Surely he wouldn’t decide to tell her secret to the Duke of Eccess now?
As Temperance followed Mrs. Davies, her stomach twisted with unease.
This was why she wanted to be independent: her life depended entirely on the mercy of other people—her stepmother, Bartholomew, Mr. Finch…
and now Enveigh. A cold mixture of dread and anger roiled in her as she descended the stairs, her breath in her throat.
In the drawing room, her gaze collided with the warm brown eyes of the Duke of Eccess, which made her heart skip a beat.
He rose from his chair, his gaze following her every movement, making her skin tingle.
Only then did she notice that also present were the Duke and Duchess of Rath, the Duke and Duchess of Luhst, and the Duke and Duchess of Pryde, as well as the Dukes of Enveigh, Irevrence, and Fortyne.
All of them were sitting with cups of tea.
Apparently, she’d interrupted an afternoon visit.
“Oh, Miss Fields,” said the Duchess of Rath in her usual warm way. Her delicate gown didn’t quite hide her growing belly, and her face glowed in the way expectant mothers usually had.
“Your Grace.” She curtsied in greeting to all the esteemed guests.
“How is Sophie?” asked the Duchess of Rath.
“She’s resting. Reading.”
Silence fell on the room. Temperance cautiously glanced at the Duke of Enveigh. Please, don’t betray my secret ? —
At any moment he would reveal her lies, and then the Duke of Eccess’s good opinion of her would be shattered. Somehow that thought was the source of her unhappiness and unease. The loss of his good opinion of her.
Her—betraying him.
Enveigh stepped forward, handsome in the straight lines of his impeccable emerald tailcoat, light brown hair curling over his forehead. Gray eyes stared at her with enthusiasm, hope?—
Oh, no, he did have some plan in mind.
“I summoned Miss Fields,” he said. “I wanted to see her.”
Temperance’s heart twisted, her stomach in knots. Why didn’t he come to see her in the mews like before?
“You wanted to see her?” asked the Duke of Eccess slowly. “What about our conversation?”
There was a distinct undertone of thunder in the level voice of a gentleman. Eyebrows drawn to form an almost perfectly straight honey-blond line over his dark eyes.
Enveigh met his stare, unmoving, his eyes cold and confident, steely. “The fourth credo, friend, does not care about our conversation.”
They didn’t look like friends. They looked like rivals. Enemies almost.
It was once again very quiet.
“There are things you don’t know, Octavius,” said Enveigh, and Temperance’s heart dropped to her feet. She could feel her pulse beating in her toes.
Oh, no . He was going to ruin everything—tell them all the truth.
“What things?” clipped the Duke of Eccess, his eyes narrowing.
He may have looked large and domineering, but every taut muscle of his body was like a coiled spring. A boar might seem a clumsy animal, but it was powerful and deadly.
That was how her employer looked now.
Deadly.
And all this arguing over her; it was not her place to stand in between the friendship of two men.
“These things,” replied Enveigh. Causing murmurs to ripple across the room, he walked three steps to her and dropped to one knee.
Temperance gasped. So did the three duchesses.
“What are you doing, man?” came a murmur from the Duke of Luhst.
No, no, no. She had been afraid he was going to reveal her secret.
Somehow, this was worse.
“Miss Fields,” said the Duke of Enveigh, “in the light of yesterday’s events?—”
Temperance frowned. What events yesterday? Had he found out they were followed?
“—it became clear to me that I had to act. Do something.”
Even in the midst of her confusion, Temperance was grateful he hadn’t said anything concrete. He’d kept his word to her.
A murmur came from the three duchesses. Temperance stared on with horror prickling her skin as the kneeling duke’s gray eyes glistened with genuine warmth.
Without breaking eye contact, he reached into the inner pocket of his tailcoat and retrieved a golden ring set with a large emerald and serpents surrounding the stone. Offering a ring was most unusual, though a very impressive gesture.
Enveigh stretched his hand out to her, presenting her the ring. “Would you do me the greatest honor and become my wife?”
This was the most generous, romantic, and honorable gesture anyone had made in her life.
And yet, Temperance didn’t want it. Any of it. Not the ring, not the man, not the proposal.
What on earth was she supposed to do now?
“What is going on?” muttered the Duchess of Rath behind her.
Her heart beat hard in her throat as she looked at him kneeling there, all honorable and sincere, in front of her.
“Why are you doing this?” she whispered.
“I—I would like to offer you my hand, my protection, and my heart. Miss Fields, truth is, I’ve been quite taken with you ever since the moment I met you.”
Surely he couldn’t have been taken with her for three years when they hadn’t seen each other during the majority of that time. They had never corresponded, he never called on her, never showed his intention to her papa. Why was he doing this now?
“My heart is yours,” he proclaimed boldly. “What do you say, Miss Fields?”
His heart?
That rang so false. How had she managed to capture his heart?
The Duke of Eccess’s anger was a physical force around her, hot and spiky. The faces of the dukes and the duchesses looked as shocked as Temperance felt.