Page 4 of Forever and a Duke (The Bridewell Sisters #1)

CHAPTER 3

G riffin hadn’t truly meant to accuse her of murder, and yet her eyes widened as if he had.

He’d known Lily well over a decade and there was no woman less likely to do murder in all of England. She had the same healing instinct as her father. As a child, she was ever rescuing animals or plants or any living, injured thing that came across her path.

“Forgive me for jesting.” He pointed at the buried suitcase once more. “Will you not tell me what this is all about?”

She swallowed. Hard. He watched the muscles of her throat work, saw the doubt and fear in her gaze.

Then he spotted a tear. One single dash of wetness against the smooth pink of her cheek, and he cursed himself for being every kind of arse. He’d avoided her for months and then bumbled over here without an invitation and teased her.

He damn well deserved the sprained ankle and all the pain ricocheting up to his hip every time he moved.

“I’m sorry, Lily.” Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a handkerchief and then inelegantly made his way toward her. “I’d never wish to make you cry.”

Though he knew he already had. No doubt months of tears because of his idiocy on that field in Hampstead.

She frowned, and then another tear joined the first. One hit him too, and he realized they weren’t tears. They were raindrops. When he gazed skyward, they came at him like a volley of wet arrows.

“We need to go inside,” she told him.

Then she did the most extraordinary thing. She tucked herself against his side. Suddenly, all her warm, floral-scented curves seamed against his body, and rogue urges welled up. He’d never been this close to his best friend’s eldest sister, though he’d secretly imagined it. Then she slid an arm around his waist underneath his overcoat and the rightness of her nearness made his pulse tick faster.

“Wrap your arm around me,” she instructed. And he did. A little too eagerly.

She urged him forward, and they moved as quickly as he could manage toward the rear terrace of Briarfield. Halfway there, his boot hit a rock hidden in the grass, and pain shot through his leg. He bit back a curse.

“If you let me look at that, I’ll tell you what we buried.” She grinned at him impishly. The wind had caused her cheeks to redden. Her lips too. God, he’d been too long without the sight of her. She’d always been pretty, but today—mud-streaked and rain-dappled—she took his breath away. Of course, he’d noticed her—that honey-blonde hair, vibrant blue eyes, those dimples when she truly let go and smiled. Yes, he’d forced himself not to act on those feelings.

As his best friend’s sibling, she wasn’t a girl he could ever consider for anything but friendship.

Though she certainly wasn’t the gangly girl she’d once been anymore. His own body registered the lushness of her curves against him, and he willed himself not to pull her closer as he longed to.

After they’d crossed the terrace, she turned and pressed both hands to his chest. He lifted his overcoat to keep the rain from her as much as he could.

“Wait. Let me make sure we’re safe to go inside.” She swung away, cupping her hands over the glass of the French doors and peering inside.

He hadn’t a deuced clue why entering her own home would pose any danger. Except for the bloody cousin. Was the man already being a tyrant to them?

“It’s clear.” She reached out her hand, and he took it. The moment he did, a strangely comforting warmth shot straight to his chest.

Inside, she led him across the hall to a small sitting room and shut the door. He noted that she’d thrown the lock.

“Sit on the settee and remove your boot.” She released his hand as she directed him, and he was ridiculously bereft the moment she let go.

“You really want to do this here? Now?”

“Of course. You’re injured. Let me help you.”

Griffin hid a smile when he bent to remove his boot. He’d heard those words from her before. When she’d found an injured bunny in the field near his family’s estate, she’d whispered those words to it. Another time, he’d heard her murmur them to a wounded bird she’d brought inside to feed by hand.

Apparently, he was now one of her wounded creatures to rescue. Rather than fight it, he decided to succumb and began removing his boot. It proved hard-going as his ankle screamed its opposition.

“Here, let me.” Lily knelt next to him, and though her movements were gentler and more patient than his own, she had the boot off a few moments later.

“It’s swollen,” she murmured as if speaking to herself more than him. Then she stood and went to the room’s bell pull. “I’ll have Cook fetch some ice and a bit of salve for a poultice to help with the pain and swelling.”

“That seems a great deal of trouble to put you to for?—”

Before Griffin could finish his thought, someone banged loudly and repeatedly at the sitting room door.

“Open this door at once. What is the meaning of this?” A man’s high-pitched voice rang through the panel. Then he began rapping again, drumming a fist against the door as a petulant child might do.

Lily closed her eyes a moment, drew in a deep breath, and then unlocked the door.

“What in God’s name are you—” The man—the cousin, Griffin presumed—burst into the room, his face reddened with outrage, his hair mussed, and his mouth twisted in a scowl.

“You cavort with a man under my very nose in a locked room? This is scandal.” The cousin’s voice had gone quiet, though still seemingly laced with rage.

“ This is Griffin Kingsley, the Duke of Edgerton,” Lily said with a measure of patience Griffin couldn’t manage to summon. “Our neighbor and a dear and longtime friend of this family.”

The fact that she called him a dear friend did something odd to him. Until that moment, he’d never wanted to be more than just a friend to her. Now, suddenly, he found that he did.

But it was the revelation that he was a duke that altered Lord Dashford’s entire expression—from frowning outrage to shock and then an undeniable flash of respect.

This , Griffin had to acknowledge, was one of the undeniable advantages of inheriting his father’s title.

“Your Grace,” Dashford finally managed. “I’m most keen to protect Miss Bridewell’s reputation, as you can certainly appreciate.” He glanced down at Griffin’s bootless foot as if it was proof of a scandal.

“Miss Bridewell is the most respectable lady I know.” Griffin stood, forcing his weight onto his good foot, and was morbidly pleased at Dashford’s flinch when he towered over him. “A rock foiled my pleasant midday walk, and Miss Bridewell was kind enough to offer me aid.”

“I was not aware Miss Bridewell had taken herself out into the rain.” Dashford appraised her sodden dress. “Indeed, I was under the impression she had taken ill and was resting upstairs.”

Without even a hint of bending to his attempt to corner her, Lily offered him an angelic smile. “I felt the need for a bit of a fresh air, Cousin, as I had so much to contemplate .”

There was an emphasis added to her words Griffin didn’t quite understand, but Dashford seemed to. A bit of scarlet rushed into the man’s already flushed features.

“Of course.” Dashford seemed almost contrite. Then he looked at Griffin as remembering he was in the room. “Will you dine with us, Edgerton?”

“Oh, I don’t think—” Lily started.

“I don’t wish—” Griffin began.

They spoke at almost the same moment. Griffin glanced at her questioningly, and she gave him a tight little shake of her head. Though he had been on the cusp of declining the invitation, he was curious about the sudden awkwardness between Lily and her cousin. If the man was treating the sisters poorly, Griffin intended to put an end to it. He’d use every ounce of his ducal power if necessary.

“I accept the invitation. It’s been too long since I’ve dined with the Bridewell sisters.” He looked to Lily to see how much he’d displeased her, and she looked well and truly vexed.

“Very well. I…” Dashford stared down at Griffin’s injured foot again.

“I’ll see to His Grace and then speak to Cook to let her know there will be one more at table this evening,” she told her cousin.

Dashford nodded. “Don’t be long, Miss Bridewell. I shall be in the study. Come and find me when you’re finished with…this.” He gestured at Griffin’s discarded boot.

“Of course, Cousin.”

Dashford lingered a few more awkward moments and then departed, holding Lily’s gaze until she cast her eyes down to the carpet as if out of demureness. Griffin suspected it was to avoid the man’s gaping.

She shut the door lightly after he departed.

“You shouldn’t have accepted his invitation,” she whispered.

“What’s going on, Lily?”

She pressed her lips together. Whatever it was, she didn’t wish to tell him, but he needed to know. He yearned to help them. He’d vowed that he would.

“You may trust me with whatever you divulge,” he assured her. “Is your cousin treating you and your sisters with the respect you deserve?”

Lily scoffed and then covered her mouth as if she’d just blurted the most shocking of expletives. After a deep breath, she opened her mouth as if to confess all, but a knock drew her attention to the door.

She opened it and spoke briefly to the maid who stood at the threshold. The young woman had delivered a laden tray, and Lily set it on a low table near the settee.

“Sit down, and I’ll bind your ankle.”

When he hesitated, she pointed at the spot he’d occupied a moment ago on the settee.

Griffin took the indicated spot and let her get to work.

“Since I’m yielding to this,” he said softly, “tell me what was in that trunk.”

With gentlest care, she worked his stocking off and then applied a chilled cloth to his ankle. The cold soothed the sharpness of the pain quickly.

As she knelt before him applying light pressure to the cloth, she finally looked up and met his gaze.

“Our belongings,” she said softly. “Only those that are truly ours. We’re not stealing from Edwin.” Her eyes blazed with intensity and the gloss of unshed tears. “We each chose a few items that matter to us most, fearing he might claim them if we didn’t.”

Griffin swallowed hard and a surge of anger made him want to find Dashford and throttle the man. Yet he longed to soothe Lily more.

“Have I shocked you?” She’d taken his silence as disapproval.

“No, of course not. If I feel shock, it’s only for how wretchedly you’re being treated. This is your home. He is your closest male relative. How dare he not make provision—and generous provision at that—for all of you?”

She licked her lips but wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“What has he done?” A sick, twisting dread roiled in his gut when her skin paled at his question.

“He…” She closed her eyes a moment and then looked up at him. “He has made provision. We may all stay at Briarfield if I consent to marry him.”

Griffin felt his jaw slacken, then his hands balled into fists. “He’s your cousin ,” he whispered.

“Yes, but such things are not unheard of.”

“Perhaps they bloody well should be!”

“Ssh. I don’t want him coming back before I’m finished with your foot.” She reached up and placed a hand on his chest, then quickly removed it.

“You can’t marry him, Lily.” The notion was so vile Griffin struggled to get the words out. “I won’t allow it.”

“Won’t allow it?” Her tone was suddenly sharp, irritated. “I have few options, and your meddling is not necessary. The last thing I need is to anger Dashford.”

Griffin planned to do more than anger Dashford. He meant to bend the bounder to his will. He’d offer a sum Dashford could not decline. Or he’d use his power among other nobles to ruin him. Even as such thoughts rolled through his mind, they disgusted him. It was the way his father had wielded his power—controlling others, ruining men who failed to heed him. He’d never wanted to be that sort of duke, but he knew of no greater cause than protecting Leo’s sisters.

Lily bent to her task again, carefully applying a thin layer of a pungent concoction, then wrapping his ankle expertly in cool, clean cotton bandaging. While she worked, she caught the edge of her lower lip between her teeth and a sort of serene contentedness softened her features.

He’d missed being in her company. Missed her smile and her kindness and the way she cared so deeply about helping others. He felt lighter, more like himself again, after only half an hour of being near her. Something about her always put others at ease, just as she did with the menagerie she took in to nurse back to health.

She’d make an extraordinary duchess. The thought came unbidden, the rightness of it striking him like a thunderbolt. He felt a bit dizzy. A little breathless.

“What if you had another option?” he asked slowly, the thoughts still solidifying in his mind.

“We do have a few,” she told him as she used scissors to snip the edge of the cotton cloth. “My aunt has suggested that I become a governess, and she’s willing to take Ivy on as her companion.”

He almost chuckled at the notion of Ivy Bridewell as a lady’s companion. The girl was so fearsome, she’d once made his cousins run from a room crying because she’d recounted some ghastly story she’d read in The Police Gazette .

No, he’d offer something better than these bright, brilliant sisters going into service.

“I have an alternative suggestion.”

“Oh, yes? What’s that?” Lily had turned away from him as she put all her mending materials back on the tray, seemingly only faintly interested in whatever his answer might be.

Griffin needed her to hear him, to know he was utterly sincere.

He reached for her, stroking the backs of his fingers against her cheek.

She turned, eyes wide, but didn’t pull away from his touch.

“Why not marry me instead?”

A frown pinched her brow, and she pushed his hand away. “This is not the time for jesting, Griffin.”

“I’m serious. Look at me, Lily.”

She did, though she’d crossed her arms over her chest.

“It’s a logical solution.” Yes, that was the path to take. She liked logic. Always had. “I need a wife. You need to ensure your sisters’ futures.” And he needed to do something to fulfill his vow—his debt—to his best friend.

Something shifted between them. She blinked and then seemed to study him anew. When she pressed her lips together, he wasn’t certain if she was overcome with anger and trying not to lash out or?—

She laughed. The sound bubbled up and then burst from her lips. She laughed so hard, tears sprang to her eyes. As she swiped them away, her laughter petered out into a chuckle.

“Well, that’s not quite the reaction I was expecting upon proposing to a lady.”

“I’m sorry, but it’s ludicrous.” She gathered her tray and got to her feet. “I’m a spinster,” she told him succinctly. “And you’re…” Balancing the tray with one hand, she swept the other toward him. “You.”

“Am I a worse prospect than marrying that fop of a cousin?”

Lily tipped her head as if confused by the question. “You are serious.”

Griffin huffed out a sigh and pressed off the arm of the settee to get to his feet, noting that his injured foot felt much better after her ministrations.

“I did just say as much not a moment ago.” No, irritation would not win her. He needed patience. He needed to appeal to her reasonable nature. “You said yourself that we are friends, and I?—”

He caught himself on the cusp of admitting that he’d vowed to Leo that he would protect her and her sisters. But reminding her of that loss was something he wished to avoid.

“You what?” she prompted.

“I want to help your family however I am able.”

“Marriage is a great deal to offer to be helpful. And marriage must be more than merely friendship,” she told him softly. “You’ll need heirs.”

“Yes, I will.” Griffin didn’t miss the way her cheeks grew pink, but she held his gaze. She was lovely, and he’d found her so for years, even if he’d convinced himself to ignore it. Bedding her would certainly be no hardship. “We needn’t rush that part.”

He stepped closer and heard her sharp little inhale when he smiled at her. Then he took her hand in his and drew her an inch closer.

Suddenly, he ached to kiss her. She was close enough. He could bend his head and take those pink lips, prove to her how good it could be between them. But he did not want to shock or offend her. She needed to know how he would champion her wishes in all things.

And he had no intention of letting passion overtake him, not with her. He no longer wished to be the impulsive version of himself he’d grown to hate in the last six months. He’d been selfish, foolish, rash, and it had led to tragedy.

He wanted to be a better man now. Logical. Responsible. Honorable.

This was a perfectly logical solution. He’d never longed for a love match and hadn’t been looking forward to marriage much at all. But he knew Lily well, trusted her, and believed in her ability to be an admirable duchess.

For now, she and her sisters needed what he could offer—the legal protection of his name, his title, and the benefit of his connections to secure the sort of futures they all deserved.

“We can worry about heirs later,” he vowed to her. “And when it happens, it will be because you’re ready. We shall consult each other in all matters, and I vow to make you happy in every way that I am able.”

The more he thought of the future they could make together, the more right it felt to offer for her. Indeed, they’d do this quickly. He’d seek a special license. The sooner he could make her his bride, the better.

“How does that sound, Lily?”