Page 38 of Only a Duke (Ladies Who Dare #6)

And Bow Street wasn’t likely to let the Duchess of Talbot off lightly.

They might even be inclined to use her as an example for all the other members.

They would also probably send someone to Brighton for the Havendish ledger once he reported its existence.

Bloody Fury men. They deserved whatever trouble the law could bring to their little tavern.

But what weighed on him most was the way all of this would affect Louisa.

He’d known, of course, that it would touch her in some way, but he’d never allowed himself to truly consider it.

Never paused long enough to grasp the depth of what it would cost her.

He hadn’t dared. He wouldn’t have been able to do his job if he had. He didn’t want to do it now.

But he must.

Because once again, a Cavanagh would be responsible for causing the Talbots some form of distress. Oliver dragged a hand through his hair. But it hadn’t been enough to stop him. Louisa wouldn’t have wanted him to stop either, no matter the consequences to her.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

Oliver’s muscles tensed at the sound of the familiar voice. He slowly turned to catch Helgate’s smiling face. He scowled, not in the mood to be pestered. For a moment, he thought of ignoring the man entirely, but that would only make the pestering worse. “What are you doing here?”

The man pulled up a seat and joined him at the bar. “Miles and I left for Ashford shortly after you. Thought I’d see if you were still around.”

Oliver’s glanced over his shoulder to sweep the tavern with a glance. “And where is Miles?”

“Retrieving things.”

Oliver grunted. Nothing about Miles and Helgate surprised him anymore. The one was full of smiles, whereas the other was a true phantom, just like Louisa had said.

Helgate knocked on the countertop. “Why the sour face? Did Talbot’s wife not have a ledger?”

“No, she did. We found it.”

“Well, I’ll be damned!” Helgate slapped him on the back. “Isn’t that something to celebrate?”

“There is nothing to celebrate.”

Helgate raised a brow, his smile faltering slightly. “Why not?”

Oliver let out a dry chuckle, though there was no humor in it. “She knows about the kidnapping—her kidnapping,” he admitted, the words feeling heavy as they left his mouth. “She knows.”

“I see.” Helgate’s voice dropped a notch. “So, that’s why you look like you’ve been dragged through a field of nettles. She didn’t take it well, then?”

“I didn’t stay to find out.” The look in her eyes had been enough. He hadn’t been able to stand it. “Talbot returned with the duchess as well.”

Helgate whistled low, the sound slicing through the tavern. “So that’s how it is. Found you with his daughter, did he? Honestly, Mortimer, what did you expect? Your families are enemies. No matter what, the duke would never entertain you.”

Oliver stared into the full cup of tea that had lost its steam. He had known. However, knowing and experiencing were bitterly different. “I didn’t want it to end like this.”

“A pint of ale, please,” Helgate called to the barman before turning back to Oliver and asking, “How did you want it to end, then?”

He didn’t know. Not like this . “I never thought about it beyond each moment.”

Helgate smirked. “Well, there is your problem then.”

Oliver narrowed his eyes. “Why is it a problem?”

Helgate’s ale was placed in front of him, and the barman answered for him, “Because women love when men obsess about the future.”

Oliver scowled at the man. “Not this woman.”

The barman shrugged. “You should have just brought her a jewel, then you wouldn’t be sitting here with female trouble again.”

“Again?” Helgate’s brow shot up, his whole face lighting up in intrigue. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

Oliver gritted his teeth. “What?”

Helgate’s smile deepened. “You are in love with her.”

Oliver jerked back, as if the words had physically struck him. “I am not.”

Helgate chuckled, clearly enjoying his reaction. “Yes, you are. You’re in love with Louisa Talbot.”

Oliver stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “I assure you, I am not.”

“I assure you, you are.” He took of long sip of ale before saying, “You can tell yourself whatever you like, my friend, it doesn’t change the truth.”

“And just what would you know about love?” The man had never courted a woman in his life, neither had he been close to any woman in the fifteen years Oliver had known him.

Helgate shrugged. “I know it’s not the simplest path to tread when there are more straightforward ones available.”

“Hear, hear,” the barman agreed, nodding at them before leaving to help another customer.

Oliver couldn’t refute that bold claim either. For men like them, the simplest paths were business transactions, which was why they tended to also treat marriage as one. Gains and losses were weighed, decided upon, and put to paper.

Very straightforward.

Emotions, on the other hand, were messy.

And yet something about Louisa had wrapped itself around him, and no matter how hard he tried to resist, it refused to loosen its hold. But there was no path for him and Louisa to take. It had been cut off ten years ago. Probably even before that.

Oliver lowered back onto the chair stiffly.

“I see you are determined to clamp up,” Helgate remarked. “Let me ask you this: Did you tell her that you were the one who saved her? Did you tell any of them?”

“Irrelevant.”

Helgate leaned in, a hint of disbelief in his eyes. “How the devil is that irrelevant? It sets you apart from your father!”

“His blood still runs through my veins.” As Talbot had pointed out.

Helgate scoffed, shaking his head. “Christ, you are so stubborn at times,” he muttered. “Has it ever occurred to you that you might start mending this feud with Talbot if he knew you were the one who led his daughter back to his men?”

Oliver’s lips curled in a bitter smile. “He wouldn’t believe me.”

“Does it matter what he believes?” Helgate didn’t bother to hide his irritation. “You only want her to believe it anyway.”

“Damn it, Helgate,” Oliver snapped, slamming his fist on the bar. “I already walked away, now you want me to walk right back and mention this after the fact? I would look like a bloody fool.”

“I hate to point this out, old chap, but you already do look a bit like one. A fool in love.”

Oliver cursed the man. A fool in love? Wouldn’t that be the jest of the season—a Cavanagh falling in love with a Talbot?

Christ.

But his chest ached .

So, he didn’t feel nothing. He certainly felt something.

But he wouldn’t call it love either. They’d had a moment.

Very well, they’d had a few moments. Breathtaking, irresistible, heart palpitating moments.

But that’s all they were, and that’s why he felt rather discomposed by Talbot finally telling his daughter the truth about the Cavanaghs.

But Helgate also wasn’t wrong. He did want her to believe it. If he ever told her about his part in it, that was.

Helgate sipped his ale. “In any event, if she deserves to know the truth, doesn’t she deserve to know the full truth?

Whether you pursue her or not, love her or not, at the very least, you ought to give her that.

And you know it. Why else would I even have found you here still?

You ought to have been on your way back to London, but here you still are.

You couldn’t bring yourself to leave, could you? ”

No, he couldn’t.

“What if she doesn’t believe me?”

A hand patted his shoulder. “Whether she believes you are not is for her to decide. At least your conscience will be clear. Besides, the Lady Louisa I came to know these past few days is not to be underestimated. She possesses a capable mind of her own.”

Oliver recalled the fury she had displayed when Talbot hadn’t shown enough ire against his wife. Helgate was right. No matter what the outcome, whether he was hated or not, she deserved the full truth.

If nothing else, he could give her that.