Page 41 of Only a Duke (Ladies Who Dare #6)

L ouisa’s brows furrowed. The duke stared at her in silence, his expression unreadable, as if the very air had been stolen from his lungs.

Her own breath faltered as well. She studied his face, tracing every small line with her eyes, searching for any sign of change in the short time they had been apart.

Within the far reaches of her mind, in some obscure corner, she understood this line of thinking was a bit skewed.

But that faint awareness was overshadowed by part joy and part relief that he hadn’t just left without a word.

That even if this was his final goodbye, she would cling to his presence for as long as she could.

“I thought you would be on your way to London by now.”

“I couldn’t leave.”

“Why not?” She hated the hopeful flutter in her heart. “What was so important that you had to tell me?”

He hesitated, then reached into his jacket pocket and removed a black jewelry box. Her stomach flipped. Surely he hadn’t come to... to... propose! No. That was absurd. And the Duke of Mortimer may be many things, but not absurd. She need not have stretched her imagination that far, however.

“I came to apologize.”

“For what?” He had nothing to apologize for. Unless... Her heart sank. Had he truly been part of her kidnapping? Could she forgive him if he had been in some way? Did she want to know if he had?

No, she didn’t.

She lifted her hands, shaking her head, a silent plea for him not to say another word, but his words were faster.

“I shouldn’t have left the way I did earlier.”

She froze, searching his face. “Then, you... didn’t come to apologize for being part of the kidnapping?”

His brows drew together. “What do you mean?” Then his shoulders went rigid. “You don’t think I helped kidnap you?” When she said nothing, he cursed, dragging a hand through his hair. “Of course this would be what you imagined.”

“I don’t mean to accuse you...” Louisa felt wretched for a variety of reasons.

All the melancholy she’d experienced in the kitchen came rushing back.

“Honestly, I do not know what to imagine.” In her heart, she wanted to launch herself into his arms, hold him tight, and forget about the world.

If only all the uncertainties that came with the past, present, and future hadn’t coiled around her heart like venomous vipers.

“I didn’t.” His fingers gripped the box in his hand, knuckles whitening. “I had no part in what happened to you back then. I...” His voice trailed off.

An impression of familiarity suddenly filled Louisa, and as she observed the duke, the image of a young man she’d been thinking of so often lately swam across her mind, overlapping with his.

She nearly gasped.

Good God.

Could it be?

“But you were there,” she said slowly, now almost certain that she was right.

“You’re the young man from my dreams...

” She lowered her gaze, attempting to grab hold of the memory she’d once believed only a dream that would always stubbornly leave the moment she tried to grasp at it. Her protector in the shadows.

“Yes,” he said simply, solemnly.

Her gaze shot up to meet his again, her heart racing. Her throat tightened, and she held her breath, waiting for his next words.

“I am the one who let you go.”

The breath left her lungs in a rush. Let her go? He made it sound so simple, so insignificant. His eyes, however, held unfathomable gloominess—like a man walking to the gallows. Let her go?

No.

He hadn’t merely let her go. He had saved her.

Those coiled vipers, the chaos, her heart, finally settled.

“You rescued me, Oliver,” Louisa said, her voice quiet but firm. “You took me from that place and handed me over to my father’s men.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t hand you over. Not directly.”

Indeed, had her father known that the son of his enemy had aided him, the course of events might have taken a rather different turn.

Although, knowing her father, perhaps not.

However, the important thing here was that Oliver had saved her from that nightmare.

No wonder she had always felt safe with him, despite their families being at odds.

She had trusted him implicitly. At first, she had thought it was because she didn’t give any credence to the feud between the families, but now. .. she knew that was not the case.

He’d saved her.

She had been dreaming about him for ten years.

“You still saved me.”

He merely stared at her, unblinking.

“Are you not going to say anything?” Louisa pressed. “ It’s a pleasure, Louisa —”

“Your father must have been livid after I left.”

Ah, her impossibly handsome, inscrutable duke. “My father was beyond furious, and I took quite the verbal beating for defying him, but I could not condone what he had done. This might be ten years too late, but thank you for defying your own father back then.”

“You do not hate me?” he asked softly.

Louisa blinked at the man. “Why would I hate the man who helped me?” Oh. “If this is because of what my father said about blood, I do not share his view.”

He let out a visible breath. “That is a relief.” The gloominess left his gaze. “I don’t want you to hate me.”

Silly man, I could never hate you. I love you.

Louisa nearly coughed at her own thought, almost the same as when Leo had blurted out her sleeping arrangement with this “gardener”!

“What?” He stepped up to her. “Is something wrong?”

She cleared her throat, shaking her head furiously before pointing at the jewelry box in his hand. “You brought me a gift?”

“This?” He nodded. “Someone suggested women enjoy baubles as an apology gift.”

She held out her hand, her whole body suddenly thrumming with interest. “Oh? Let me see?”

He placed the box onto her palm. “It’s nothing much.”

Louisa didn’t comment. It wasn’t “nothing much” to her, but rather, his gift was everything. Even if he didn’t know it. She slowly opened the lid, and her jaw promptly dropped.

“This . . .”

“Do you not like it?” he whispered. “I shall exchange it for something else if you don’t.”

“No, I...” Her gaze lifted to meet his, her gaze burning. “This is a ring!” Louisa burst out. A ring ! Not some bauble! Definitely not “nothing much”! A gold ring with bright three bright rubies set next to each other.

He nodded. “The jeweler said it’s the latest design.”

“I hate to ask this in such a direct manner, Oliver, but this...” Her eyes narrowed. “Are you proposing to me?”

The color seemed to drain from the poor man’s face. “No. What? No.”

She pointed at the ring. “ No? ”

“I mean...” A curse. “Do you wish for me to propose to you?”

Lawks, why hadn’t she seen it before? The man was as clueless as a lamppost when it came to matters of romance. His approach to everything had always been upside down, inside out.

“No! Of course not!” She didn’t want him to propose if he didn’t want to propose. Besides, there were still so many things that needed their attention. Her father, for one—he would never approve...

Urg!

Louisa didn’t want to think about that now. Her gaze fell to the ring. She started when a big hand covered it softly, swallowing up her whole hand and the box.

“Louisa, all you need to do is say the word. I gave you the proverbial key to my house before. I didn’t know what I even meant by it at the time, not fully, I suppose, and I know I’m not the sort of man you must have hoped for, but if it means anything, I am the most helpless when it comes to you.

I have no power in the face of your presence.

.. For what it’s worth, you hold it all. ”

Louisa’s breath caught. “Are you saying...?” Did he mean what she thought he did?

His gaze never wavered. His lips parted—

“Well, I hate to break up this touching scene,” a shrewd voice came from the door.

Louisa jerked, her head whipping toward the interruption.

Camilla!

The shadow that refused to fade!

And then her heart nearly stuttered to a stop.

In Camilla’s hand was a pistol, and it was pointed straight at them.

“But I need to borrow your lover for a bit.”

*

No string of curses could suit the depth of Oliver’s fury.

Of all the moments to be interrupted in his whole entire life, this was the bloody worst. He was already struggling to breathe out the words in his heart, but nothing sobered a man up like a pistol pointed in the direction of the woman he loved.

He stepped so that his body shielded Louisa and said coldly, “Borrow me? You have some nerve on you, madam.”

“Would I have built an empire if I didn’t?” She gave a laugh that sounded more like a cackle. “The moment I saw the way you looked at my stepdaughter, I knew still had a chance.”

“You were acting earlier,” Louisa accused. “Playing along with Papa. You never had any intention of listening to him.”

“Listening to him? Do you mean being escorted to Bow Street without putting up a struggle of any sort? Do not make me laugh, child. All I had to do was wait for either you or your lover to take a step toward the other.”

“Papa dismissed all your people.”

The duchess scoffed. “There will always be one or two you never expect who slip through the cracks.”

Oliver scowled, every muscle taut, poised for action. “And what do you mean to do now?”

“I mean to retrieve my ledger and the betting book.”

The woman had more than nerve, she was downright mad. “I don’t have them,” Oliver said.

A small hand gripped the sleeve of his shirt. The touch was light, barely there, yet it sent a sharp current through him. He drew steadiness from that small gesture.

“Oh, I know,” the pistol shifted two inches and settled solely on him, “but you will take me to them.”

Ah, bloody hell. This woman wasn’t just downright mad, she had clearly lost all sense entirely.

So had someone else.

Louisa suddenly stepped in front of him, placing herself directly in the line of the pistol. “No, he will not.”

Oliver let out a foul curse.

“So brave for a child,” the duchess cooed. “But so na?ve.”