Page 6 of One Kiss in the Shadows (Singular Sensation #12)
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O nce safely ensconced in the duke’s drawing room—or rather their drawing room—Mallory breathed a sigh of relief. She drew another one once a tea service arrived on a silver tray and she spied fresh jam tarts.
The encounter in Hyde Park bothered her more than she’d showed the duke, for she hadn’t wished him to worry over her more than he already did. To think that her mother had followed her out there, or had sent someone on her behalf, to either maim or kill her? It was as frightening as anything could be, but at least she wasn’t still a prisoner.
Perhaps it was silly, yet in an effort to impress him, she poured out two cups of tea. “Cream or sugar?”
“Just a splash of cream. Thank you.” The deep rumble of his voice sent flutters down her spine.
It was odd interacting with a man, and one who was her husband to boot. After she added the cream, Mallory offered a cup to him. When their fingers brushed, those flutters repeated through her lower belly. To her cup, she added a small lump of sugar and then stirred it until it dissolved. After that first sip of the life-giving beverage, a sigh escaped her.
“Sometimes a cuppa puts the world back to right, hmm?” he asked with that faint grin again that never fully burgeoned into the full gesture.
“I suppose, but honestly? It is a treat for me to be able to enjoy it while it’s still hot.” Did that make her sound spoiled?
“Oh? Why is that?”
She rested her gaze on him from where he sat on a chair near the low sofa where she’d perched. “At the asylum, by the time the residents actually received their tea, it was lukewarm at best, but most of the time it was cold.” With a shrug, she dismissed the discrepancy. “And there were never jam tarts. Most of the tea cakes were a day old before we got them.”
“I’m so sorry.” The duke watched her over the rim of his teacup as he sipped. “How did you manage to survive?”
“Honestly? I don’t know that I did.” After taking a sip of the sweetened tea, Mallory peered at him as memories crowded her mind. “Do you think I shall always remember that horrible time in my life? Will it always be there in my mind to taunt me?”
“Well, if it’s anything like my service in the military, I hate to say that yes, you will always remember, and those years will haunt you.” Those sensual lips tugged downward in a frown. “And because of that, you’ll need to fight so that they’ll release their hold on you, but I’ll tell you what I said in the carriage earlier: you are no longer alone nor are you isolated.”
Haunt you...
One moment she sat there on the brocade sofa with a warm porcelain cup in her hand, and the next, the duke and the room vanished. Once more she was back in her cheerless bedroom in that manor house, and it was the morning of her eighteenth birthday.
“S ince I have attained my majority, Mother, please let me come back home.” For the past fifteen minutes, Mallory had argued with her mother about where her life should be headed.
Her mother patted an escaped tendril of blonde hair into place as her lips pursed. “Oh, that will never be allowed to happen.”
“Why not?”
“Your mind just isn’t as it should be, dear, and we can’t have such a scandal in the family. People will talk.”
“Don’t you think people are already talking because you sent your oldest away? Don’t you think they’ll want to know what happened to me?” She shook her head. “I should have my Come Out next year.”
“And you would have if your mind hadn’t betrayed you.” The shrug her mother executed was elegant. “If people in society ask what has become of you, I will merely say you’ve gone away for a while for health reasons.”
As annoyance surged through her chest, Mallory stormed to the one window in her room. The iron bars obscured the view, of course, but the early June fresh air was redolent with sweet grass and new blooms. “At least if you’re going to banish me, do it at one of Papa’s properties. He has one along the southern coast of England. That’s far enough away from you.”
“But then you’d have an inordinate amount of freedom, and that is something I cannot allow. It’s far too dangerous.” A note of superiority thread through her mother’s voice. “You know far too much, and you also know how to read and write. One errant letter will destroy everything I’ve worked so hard to build over the years.”
“Which is what?” Mallory asked as she whirled around.
“Security and position for my girls.”
“My sisters.” When her mother said nothing, another wave of hot anger rose in her chest. “Why am I not given the same consideration? Why will you not allow me to enter society and have the chance to find my own match?”
“Because you simply aren’t the same as your sisters.”
“Why?” It was folly to continue to push, but she had to know. Something beyond the alleged “madness” had seen her locked up in this asylum.
“It’s simple, really. They are their father’s daughters.” There was no malice in her mother’s eyes this time, only honesty. “I want them to have the best chances in this life, and in order to do that, I need coin and position for myself. This world is neither kind nor fair to women, so I will make my own way.”
While that sentiment would have been noble from anyone else, coming from her mother, it was a bit terrifying. “So you refuse to give me the same chances because...” She gasped as the pieces went together. “Because my father is not theirs,” she finished in a low voice. “Is that true?”
Though her mother’s expression remained impassive, eventually she nodded. “It is true. I have been married to the earl for years. However, in the process of building my position within the ton , I have had to do certain things or play a certain role to powerful men.” She shrugged. “When you came along, Stover and I decided to play your presence off as his daughter because it was easier that way.”
Shaken by the admission, Mallory gawked at the other woman. “I was born on the wrong side of the blanket.” It wasn’t a question.
“Not in the eyes of society since as far as they know, you are Stover’s first child.” She brushed a piece of lint from her skirting. “Which is one reason why we needed you to be separate from the other girls. No sense in giving you everything they should rightly have or tainting them with influence from your paternal bloodline.”
“What?” How could one person be so cruel? “I am still your daughter.”
“While this is true, you also have quite the knack for eavesdropping.” Her mother’s blue eyes went as hard as sea glass. “You were in the library that night when I was talking with the Marquess of Hallerston regarding bringing down the Rogue’s Arcade members. Because of that, you are dangerous to my plans, so here you will stay. Unfortunately, there is no chance your mind will ever be unraveled.”
Mallory crossed her arms at her chest as her mind whirled. Who was her real father? Over the years, it wasn’t uncommon to find her mother in the company of the Marquess of Hallerston. Her eyes widened. Could that be who’d fathered her? “Who is my real father?”
“That is information you don’t need at this time in your life.”
“Because you don’t want me appealing to him.” That also meant her suspicions were correct. A marquess was higher in society than her mother the countess. She scowled. “Then I’m to be held a prisoner against my will?”
“Of course not, but this is the best place for someone like you whose mind has deserted her. You’ll be safe here.”
“What a lie! If that were so, I wouldn’t be able to carry on a conversation with you or anyone.” She shook her head as fury raged in her chest. “You just don’t want me to blab about your murderous plans, and even if I told someone, they would say my mind is truly gone, and I’m merely blathering like a fool.”
“I appreciate that you aren’t, in fact, a fool.” A smile parted her mother’s lips, but there was no mirth behind the gesture. “At least here, I can keep an eye on you even if I have no use for you as a daughter.”
“Ah, because how embarrassing it would be to let everyone know I don’t support your thirst for the domination and control of England through illegal channels, or in killing innocent people.”
“Enough of the cheek. I won’t have it.” Far too quickly her mother moved, then she slapped the side of Mallory’s face. “I still control every aspect of your life and can make it very difficult here for you.”
Pain radiated throughout the side of her head, but she refused to let her parent see any sort of weakness. There would be time to cry later. “Why are you truly here?”
The mirthless smile remained in place. “It is the day of your birth, so I have brought you a few of the frivolous fairy story books you adore as well as two new dresses and a few ribbons. No doubt it will tide you over until I see you next year.” She pointed to a small trunk that had been delivered to the room. “Your sisters also included a couple of notebooks and new pencils.”
As angry as Mallory was, she didn’t wish to protest too much, for gifts were seldom given and they rarely made their way through the staff to be delivered to the intended recipient. Just another example of her mother’s influence. People with enough coin to spread around could do whatever they wanted. “I don’t need things .” Though she truly did, and she appreciated the unexpected boon. “I want my freedom. My quality of life here is horrible, and there are many different kinds of threats against me.” Her chin wobbled. She needed protection, but there was none of that, not even from the people in her life who should have given it without question.
“Stop making up lies, Mallory. It’s unbecoming.”
“I’m not! I want the life I should have, I want to take my place in society and have all the fun and excitement a girl my age should have.”
“Then you should have thought about that before you spied on me.” One of her mother’s eyebrows rose in challenge. “As for freedom. You will never have that, not while I’m alive.” With that, her mother stood and shook out her skirting. “And now my visit has come to an end. Come and buss my cheek, or I’ll authorize the staff to do whatever they need to in order to keep you in line.”
Dear Lord, but she despised this woman, mother or not. Without recourse, Mallory closed the distance between them and did as instructed. Even the strong floral scent of her mother’s perfume made her want to retch. “Thank you for the visit, Mother.” At least for the trunk of things, given to her as if they were a prize to be won instead of what a loving parent should already give to a child.
Her mother nodded. “I shall see you next year.”
“Will you at least tell my father I wish to meet him?” Regardless of her mother’s infidelity, Mallory would know where she came from.
“I’ll mention it, but I rather doubt he cares. There are more important things to do than worry over the child he cared nothing about, and I certainly don’t want you turning his head away from our cause.” Then her mother drifted to the door and knocked. Seconds later, it was unlocked from the other side, and with a brief wave, her mother left the room.
A few heartbeats later, Mallory rushed over to the washbasin in the corner and expelled the meager contents of her stomach. Would she ever have cause to be rescued from this nightmare?
“M allory?” Someone jostled her arm. “Mallory?” That same someone smelled lovely, and it was that scent which brought her back to the present.
“Nathaniel.” Those deep brown eyes were the first thing she saw when she came out of that horrible memory, and she wanted nothing more than to drown in those depths. “I was lost...” She shook her head. “Sometimes the memories reach up and grab me by the throat. They don’t let go.”
“How well I understand that, for it happens to me too. Nightmares from the war and day terrors often haunt me, and at inappropriate times.”
In some confusion, she glanced around then noticed her teacup had been placed on the low table in front of her. Another look indicated a few drops of tea on the Aubusson carpet. “Drat. Did I spill?”
“A bit, but once I realized you were no longer with me, I took care of it.” He squeezed her fingers, for he’d been holding her hand from where he sat beside her on the sofa. “Do you wish to talk about it?”
“Not if I can help it.” She shrugged but appreciated his closeness. “I was remembering when my mother came to visit for my eighteenth birthday. She, uh, confirmed that I was a prisoner at the asylum and refused to release me so that I could have the life I should have.” Tears rose into her eyes. “At the time, she’d also confirmed that the earl isn’t truly my father.”
“Did she reveal the identity of the man?”
“No.” She shook her head. “But I suspect it might be the Marquess of Hallerston.”
“Oh?” Her husband’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Why?”
“He was always a visitor to the townhouse even when Papa was busy with parliament duties or away on business.” The sick feeling of disappointment she’d felt all those years ago was revisited now, and she swallowed to stave off another bout of vomiting. “I don’t want to talk about my origins. It doesn’t reflect well on a woman who is now a duchess.”
Would he realize that he’d made a mistake in marrying her?
“The longer I live, the more I’m convinced that the mettle of a person is not determined by their lineage or how much coin they have to their name.” He held her gaze, and the warmth in his eyes helped to chase away the chill in her soul. “A person’s character is comprised of what they’ve survived, how they’ve conducted themselves since obstacles appeared in their path, the focus of their determination in how they move into the future.”
“Is that how you live your life?”
“I try to.” He shrugged. “I wish to help as many people as I can while I have the means and energy, and I also want to leave this world better than when I enter it. It’s why I fought for my country against Napoleon, and it’s why I’m working to rid London of the threat your mother represents.” A bit of annoyance went through his voice. “My friends do not deserve to live in terror merely because Lady Stover wishes to control London through illegal and underground means.”
“I want that to be what drives me as well, for she has hurt far too many people already.” Slowly, Mallory shook her head. “No more. I won’t allow it.” Daring much, she lifted a hand and brushed her fingertips along the side of his head where the rock had grazed him. “Especially you.”
“Me? Why?” The surprise on his face was adorable.
“Because you were the one who saw me when I was invisible to everyone else. If you are going to insist on riding in on a white horse, then I’m damn well going to help you defend each and every rogue in your club until we see my mother’s organization into the dust.” The vehemence in her tone amused her, but his presence next to her made her feel that he indeed would protect her.
“Now that is quite the rousing endorsement.” As she watched, he grinned, and it was every bit as breathtaking as she imagined. “Do you wish to return to your rooms?”
“No. Please sit with me for a while. I, um, want to spend time with you, even if we do nothing except exist together.”
“Very well.” The duke scooted backward on the sofa, then he relaxed, and when she snuggled a bit awkwardly into his side, he wrapped an arm about her waist. “Where is your cat, by the by? I haven’t seen her recently.”
“Peri is still acclimating herself to her new home, but she spends much time in the kitchens. No doubt your staff spoil her.” With a half-tamped sigh, Mallory put an arm about his middle and allowed herself to luxuriate in the knowledge this was her life, and she was no longer a prisoner. Perhaps she did have something to look forward to if she would just allow herself to fully claim it.
“I rather think the cat isn’t the only one still adjusting,” he said in a soft voice as he rested his cheek against the top of her head. “There is much of that going around, but sometimes we all need a big upheaval or change to usher in the next phase of life.”
Did that mean he didn’t resent her presence here? And what would eventually become of their marriage in name only? Not wanting to worry about it, Mallory closed her eyes and concentrated on the sound of his breathing. There was much to be said for feeling safe and secure even though the duke was still much a stranger.
There was time enough for everything; she needed to remind herself not to rush it.