A Duke to Remember (A Season for Scandal Book 2) (15 page)

“York,” Noah said, distracted.

“Ah, a Northern girl.” Howards nodded to himself as if this explained everything.

Through the bodies spinning in a country dance, Elise’s eyes met Noah’s, as if she had felt him watching her. He tipped his head toward the dancers and raised a brow. Her face broke into a sudden, radiant smile. In an instant Noah’s blood heated and his pulse accelerated.

He was lost. He wanted this woman beyond anything that was reasonable or rational. He’d settle for a dance here, now, but he knew it wasn’t going to be enough.

Howards was wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Lots of visitors coming through town this time o’ year,” he said. “Good for business, you know, though you got to keep a careful eye. Couple coves in my store jus’ yesterday askin’ around about—”

“Excuse me, Howards,” Noah interrupted. “But there is a lady who is looking for a dance partner.” And Noah would be damned if she would dance with anyone else. Elise belonged to him and only him. He was already making his way toward her before Howards even had a chance to answer. Which was somewhat rude, but Noah couldn’t seem to bring himself to care. He had no interest in talking about brass buttons and store sales with Howards. His only focus was on the woman in the green dress who had his insides twisting in anticipation and desire.

Within seconds he’d pulled Elise from the edge of the spectators into the mass of dancers, reveling in the joy and delight that shone from her eyes as she threw her head back and laughed.

T
he ride home had been one of contented happiness, the Barrs keeping the conversation lively and finally leaving Noah and Elise in front of the cottage before they turned their wagon and headed for home.

Square greeted them from where he had been sleeping near the front door, with a stretch and a happy wag of his tail.

“Did we beat Mrs. Pritchard home?” Elise asked. “The house is dark.”

“I suggested to Mrs. Pritchard that perhaps she might want to stay with a friend in town for a few nights,” Noah told her.

Elise turned to him in surprise, moonlight chasing silver streaks through her hair. “What? When?”

Noah reached out and brushed a loose tendril behind her ear. “I asked her right before we left for the picnic. Because if, in fact, my cousin has completely lost his mind, and someone is indeed looking to murder a duke who no longer exists, I don’t want to put her in harm’s way.”

“Thank you,” Elise said. “Thank you for believing me.”

“For the record, I still feel like a fool,” Noah said, adjusting his grip on Elise’s rifle, which he had taken from the back of the wagon.

“I don’t care how you feel. Only that you still can. And I’d like to keep it that way. What did you tell Mrs. Pritchard?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? Didn’t she ask why—”

“No, she didn’t ask. She simply jumped to all sorts of conclusions. And I let her.”

“Indeed?” Elise’s serious expression was replaced with a grin. “What sort of conclusions?”

“The kind that will break her heart if you don’t marry me by next Thursday. Friday at the latest.”

“I’ll clear my calendar.”

“I’d appreciate it.” He laughed.

A strange silence fell between them, the scent of roses drifting around them on the warm summer air, the bright moonlight creating strange shapes and shadows around them.

“Did you enjoy yourself tonight?” Noah asked into the silence. He had no idea what had made him ask that.

“I did.”

“You sound surprised.”

“Maybe I am. Tonight reminded me of a time when things were…simpler. It brought back a lot of happy memories.” She paused. “Thank you for that.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You danced with me.”

“Not well.”

Elise smiled up at him. “I disagree. I thought you were rather dashing, Sir Noah.”

Noah felt as if a giant fist had squeezed the inside of his chest. It was moments like this that nearly undid him. In another lifetime they could have been an ordinary couple, two lovers simply standing under a full moon in a rose-scented garden. And there had been other times this evening, other moments filled with dancing and music and laughter, when he had forgotten why Elise was here. Moments when he had forgotten that her very presence represented a world that was waiting to claim him, a world full of complexity and bitterness.

But those tiny snippets of time were fleeting. And in this lifetime, in this reality, they stood on the edge of desire, a strange cauldron of circumstance swirling beneath them, making each step they took perilous and uncertain.

He reached for her hand as if that gesture might provide him with balance. She let him take it, and he felt her fingers curl into his.

“What are we doing, Noah?” Elise asked suddenly into the stillness, and her voice was bleak, stripped of any laughter.

He didn’t want this conversation. He wanted to hold on to the fantasy for just a few minutes more that he might take Elise inside and undress her. Lay her down on his bed and make love to her the way he had wanted to since the very first time she had smiled at him. He would make her his for this night and forever. So that she might always dance with him at picnics. So that she might milk his cows anytime she wished. So that he could finish falling completely and utterly in love with her.

“I don’t know.”

“We can’t go on like this.” In the wash of pale light, her eyes were desolate. “Pretending. Wishing that things were different. It will only make everything harder, and in the end it will solve nothing.”

She was right, and he hated that.

“I need you to give me an answer, Noah,” Elise whispered. “I need you to tell me you will come back to London.”

Noah felt the familiar hollow open up inside him, that black void that was full of pain and resentment. The joy and the happiness of the evening slid into that pit in an instant, leaving him bereft. He wanted to tell her what she wanted to hear. That he would abandon everything he had built in Nottingham. That he would storm into London, seize a title he had never wanted, and in doing so rescue a mother who had never wanted him.

“I want to. But I can’t. Just…not yet.”

“You won’t. Two very different things.”

Noah looked away. The void became a pressure, a crushing weight that was constricting his ability to breathe.

“I made a promise to help your mother, Noah, and that is a promise I intend to keep. Even if the Fates are whispering that she doesn’t deserve it.” Her voice wavered slightly. “I said I wouldn’t leave here without you, but I lied. Because, in truth, I can’t force you to do anything. I can’t force you to get on a horse and ride to London. I can’t force you to assume a title that is rightfully yours.”

Noah gazed unseeing into the night, as miserable as he’d ever felt. Elise had a way of flaying everything to its bare bones, stripping away the pretensions and the excuses that covered truths. And in her wake she left the carcasses of fears and doubts and secrets sticking up like bleached bones in a harsh light.

“I can’t give you the answer I want to give you because I don’t know if I can ever forgive her,” Noah rasped. It was the truth. And it was awful. He hated himself for it. “I don’t know if I can ever forgive my mother for what she did.”

“Then don’t.”

Noah’s head snapped around in shock.

Elise looked up at him. “You blame her for what you endured. What you had to do. And I can’t tell you that you are wrong to do so.”

Her understanding was like a knife twisting deep into his heart. It would have hurt less had she railed at him, accused him of being dishonorable, callous, or cruel. All accusations he had already leveled at himself more than once. “I lived like a feral animal in that cage for five years.” The words escaped, like poison oozing from an infected wound. “I still have scars from the chains. They tied me down and spun me on swings or poured icy water over my head for hours until I passed out. I slept on rotting straw and vomit and shit, frozen in the winter, unable to escape the heat in the summer. I fought other children for scraps of food because otherwise I might starve. I killed a man who was raping a boy barely older than I.” He was breathing hard. “I became—”

“You.” She interrupted him, her eyes blazing. “You became you. What you survived did not break you, Noah Ellery. It made you strong. Stronger than any man I’ve known.” She was breathing as hard as he. “I can’t tell you that one day you’ll find forgiveness. I don’t know that. But I do know that your mother’s actions once defined your life. Do not let her define it anymore. You have all the control now, Noah. Decide what you want to do with it.” Elise let her hand drop from his, and reached for her rifle, taking it from his grasp.

Noah stood motionless.

She went up on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his, a gentle, heartbreaking kiss that was over before it started. She withdrew and started up the steps of the house, turning back only once.

“I’ll leave at first light,” was all she said.

Sleep came slowly, and when it did it was troubled, filled with uneasy, restless shadows. Noah woke suddenly, bathed in sweat, unsure of how long he had slept, but it was still dark. A strange sense of disquiet had settled about the room. He could hear the crickets outside, and the air around him was still thick and humid. A shaft of moonlight shone through the window, though it faltered briefly as fingers of clouds drifted by.

He rolled over as quietly as possible, slipping from his bed and from his room. He did not bother lighting candles, the moonlight illuminating everything in the rooms he knew by heart. He paused by Elise’s door, barely breathing, trying to listen for anything that might tell him she was still awake. A snore, perhaps.

But not a sound came from within.

“Elise?” he whispered.

There was no answer. He stood outside her door, unsure. And feeling more foolish than he had in a long time. Which, considering recent events, was saying something. But what the hell did he think he was doing, creeping around his house in his bare feet, considering spying on a woman who was no doubt asleep in her bed? They had names for men who did that. And none of them were complimentary.

A faint bark brought his head up. He frowned and left Elise’s door, padding silently into the dining room. Through the tall windows, the gardens sat still and quiet, bathed in pale light. He could see the line of trees at the edge of the pasture, a dark smudge against the silver of the river beyond. A blur of white caught his eye, and another bark reached him as Square disappeared into the trees.

An unpleasant chill crawled down his spine. Square never left the house at night. Occasionally he slept in the barn when the weather turned wet or cold, but on nights like this, he slept at the front of the house. There was no reason for him to be down by the river. Unless…

Noah froze for a paralyzing moment before he hurried back to Elise’s room and pushed open her door.

The sheets were rumpled, the pillows askew, but the bed, like the room, was empty.

“Bloody hell,” Noah swore to himself. He could see her new green dress, hung with reverence on the pegs anchored to the wall. Her ugly brown dress was also there, along with what looked like the faded blue coat she had worn this afternoon. But her shirt and her trousers were missing.

She had to stop doing this. This disappearing. Not only was it objectionable, it was dangerous. Forget lurking assassins, there was always the possibility of poachers and thieves. Or holes into which one might stumble and break an ankle. Or trees from which one might fall and break a neck.

He hurried away from the window, not bothering to return to his room for his shirt, but lifting his hunting knife from its hook by the door. He stepped out into the night and whistled for Square. There was no answer. Unease slid through him, and he forced it aside.

She was fine, he told himself. Probably swinging through the trees or doing whatever it was that Elise DeVries did on moonlit nights. The woman was probably nocturnal. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if, on nights like this, she turned into an owl. Or a bat. Or one of Mrs. Pritchard’s faeries. Elise had proven more than once that she could morph into about anything.

He made his way toward the river, not acknowledging that he was jogging now. He gave another shrill whistle, fighting down a rising sense of panic. This time he was rewarded by a yip from the direction of the river, followed by an abrupt silence. The icy dread he’d pushed down curled its unforgiving fingers through him, raising the hair on his neck. Something was wrong. Something had happened.

Noah was sprinting now toward the thick foliage, hurdling the fence and racing across the fields. Another bark, and he pushed himself harder. The moon became obliterated by a drift of clouds, plunging his surroundings into darkness. He ran on and reached the trees, just as the moon reappeared to at least afford him the ability to maintain his bearings. He crashed through the brush like a panicked animal, bursting out onto the banks of the river, gasping for air. The light dimmed again, and he struggled to see in the darkness. He felt a cold wet nose against his palm at the same instant that something soft landed on his bare foot. He recoiled instantly, the knife drawn before him, feeling exposed and blind.

The curtain of clouds moved on. Instantly he could make out the shaggy white coat of Square, sitting expectantly in front of him, his mouth pulled back in a drooling grin, his white tail thumping against a carpet of dried leaves. The warmth that covered Noah’s foot proved to be a limp rodent of indeterminate color.

What the hell was going on? Surely if Elise was in trouble, the dog would be agitated, not bestowing him with gifts of dead rats. He lowered the knife, feeling foolish. Again. But if Square was here, Elise couldn’t be far.

Reconnaissance
, he was sure she’d tell him whenever she chose to appear out of the forest like a wood elf. And then she’d ask him why he was breathing like a winded bull, sweat pouring down his face and his chest, his pulse hammering in his ears from his sprint from the house.

He would thrash her to within an inch of her life the moment he found her. That was, if the poachers and assassins and thieves and faeries were done with her. The dread that had almost choked him faded. He bent down and picked up Square’s gift, tossing it back in the dog’s direction with an unsteady word of thanks. The damn dog was at least considerate.

He watched as Square slid awkwardly down the bank and lay near the water’s edge, dropping the rat. He saw the animal prick his ears at something out in the river, before resuming careful inspection of his latest prize.

Noah followed the dog’s gaze, and his heart stopped.

She was floating face-up in the water, dressed only in her long shirt, her hair swirling around her in a cloud of dark against the silver surface of the water. Her eyes were closed, and her face was slack, the color of her skin blanched pale in the moonlight.

She wasn’t moving.

With a tortured cry, Noah jerked into action.