Geek Girls Don't Date Dukes (29 page)

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from somewheres over here. You wouldn’t know about

that, would you, Russell?”

“You must be mistaken,” he said. “You know female

maids are not allowed in this part of the house. Now

please remove yourself from my chambers.”

Henrietta tried to push past him and enter his room,

but he blocked her way with his body.

She delivered the killing blow with innocent aplomb.

“I merely wished to greet my dear old friend Ramsey.”

His stomach sank, but he fought to keep his face neutral.

“You are incorrect. Do not spread your lies further.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but he shut the door

in her face.

He fought the urge to slump against it. He must get

Miss Ramsey away before Henrietta’s suspicions became

convictions. Thomas Prachett was sure to have a spy

hidden amongst the Granville House servants. With

his ear pressed against the door, he sighed in relief as

Henrietta’s footsteps disappeared down the hallway.

He rounded the corner of the bureau. “Leah?”

She had curled up in a tiny ball on the floor. Her

hands covered her eyes, and she shook like she’d been

beaten.

Heart lit with alarm, he bent low and scooped her into

his arms. “What is the matter?”

She pointed with a trembling finger. “Spider.”

Guilt pummeled him straight in the chest. He bore her

away as quickly as he could, depositing her on the bed.

“I am so sorry,” he whispered against her hair.

“Can you get rid of the spider first?” Her voice

was thin.

Reluctantly, he rose from the bed and returned to

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the corner she’d been forced to hide in, swallowing

her terror as he lied to Henrietta. Not only had he

besmirched her name and reputation, he’d forced her to

cower like a criminal as her fears overtook her. He was

a bastard.

The spider was nowhere to be seen. After a thorough

examination, and only a bit more regret at the deception

he’d enact on her, he stomped softly on the floorboards.

“Did you get him?”

He nodded as he returned to the bedside. Though he

desperately wanted to hold her again, soothe her fears

and ease her worries, he knew he could not. He stood

over her, looking down as her shivers eased.

This was no life for her. He was a servant, with no

home or funds to support her. Every groat he wrenched

from his hardscrabble life went directly to his aunt’s

upkeep. How could he doom her to a life of wanting?

Of domestic servitude, when clearly she was used to a life

much more like that she’d enjoyed at Lady Chesterfield’s?

And Prachett could not be held at bay forever. Though

she hadn’t seemed disgusted at his former occupation,

she would be at the dishonesty inherent in his dealings

with Prachett. And once she leaned that, she would then

revile him as everyone else did.

He could not have her. Though the words lanced his

heart with their brutality, he knew there was no alternative.

“You must leave. If you are discovered here…”

She sat upright with a cross expression. “Avery, we

have to talk about that. Listen, I…”

He pressed a finger to his lips. Footsteps grew louder

as they approached.

“Henrietta is returning,” he mouthed. “Be silent.”

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The hurt in her eyes almost did him in, but he hardened

his heart and turned away. After three heavy breaths, he

turned back.

She was gone, his window open.

He bolted for the casement and leaned out. She was

halfway down the trellis already.

“Leah.” His whisper was rife with the anger he

wished he could roar at the thoughtless chit. “What are

you doing?”

“I’m leaving. Isn’t it obvious?” She let out a small cry

as her foot missed its hold, and he fought the urge to leap

out after her. The trellis could not hold their combined

weight, he was certain.

“Do not be so rash,” he said, gripping the hair atop

his head in frustrated fear. “I never meant for you to— ”

“I know that, you doofus.” She jumped the last few

feet to the earth, stumbling as she righted herself. The

roar in his ears quieted somewhat as she glared up at him.

“I don’t want to cause you any problems, but we have

to talk. Soon.”

She turned and walked toward the street, her dark

cloak quickly hiding her from his worried, watchful gaze.

“The little idiot,” he snarled as he threw his shirt and

boots on, throwing open his door and bolting down the

stairs after her. “To think she walked alone in the streets

and climbed the damned trellis three stories up. I’ve a

mind to throttle her.”

But as he threw open the kitchen door and sprinted

after her, he knew that while there were many, many

things he’d like to do to her, throttling her was not one

of them.

Thoughtless, beautiful fool.

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Twenty- Three

Leah kept looking over her shoulder all the way

back to Lady Chesterfield’s house. She had the odd

feeling that someone was following her. But even though

she kept watch, she could never see anyone.

It was probably Avery, wishing he could kick her ass

for sneaking into his bedroom and nearly getting him

caught with his pants down.

It was pure pleasure to kick off her boots and flop

into bed with a sigh. She stared at the ceiling, wondering

what tonight had meant for Avery. Had it clarified the

feelings in his heart the way it had for hers?

She rolled over onto her belly, bunching the pillow

beneath her chin. When she was younger, she’d liked

nothing better than getting lost in a book, a movie, a video

game. When her life was more interesting, like when

things with Kevin were heating up, she left her escapist

life behind and enjoyed living in reality. But when things

had fallen apart, she’d run to those comfortable old friends

immediately, drowning herself in the distraction.

Avery was confusing but exciting. Would he get

tired of her too? Would he want to come back to the

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twenty- first century with her? If not, she’d be back to

burying herself in her apartment with nothing but Mario

and Mr. Darcy for company.

Her dreams swirled with the worries she couldn’t

leave behind even in unconsciousness.

i

Avery awoke with a sense of foreboding.

With a steadying breath, he rose to his feet and crossed

the room. A small square of paper lay innocently by the

crack at the bottom of the door. The plain, rough paper

crinkled under his hands as he unfolded it. In the moon’s

predawn glow, he read it.

Russell,

Your lady friend, or should I say Miss Ram, visited

you quite late last night. Terrible things can happen

to a young lady on the streets of London after dark.

The Swansdown is set. You know what to do.

Prachett

Avery gripped the note so tightly that the paper ripped.

There was no question of obeying Prachett now.

No matter what it cost him. He’d do anything to keep

Leah safe.

Even lose his own soul.

i

The carriage bounced along, making Lady Chesterfield’s

ostrich feathers wave excitedly. Leah sat across from

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her, glumness hanging over her like Eeyore’s little

black raincloud.

It had been almost two weeks since she’d seen Avery.

Two freaking weeks. During that time, the duke had

been their almost constant companion, showing up

at every function she and Lady Chesterfield attended.

He’d sat between her and Lady Chesterfield at the

theatre, the two of them making
The
Taming
of
The
Shrew
much more about the societal tête– à– tête than it was about the performance. Leah despised people that

talked during movies. Plays? Oh, her blood had bubbled

like acid that night.

Too bad they hadn’t gotten her subtle hints. She

couldn’t have been outright rude, or Lady Chesterfield

would have either passed out or killed her, neither of

which appealed to Leah.

Garden parties, balls, soirees— he was there for them

all. It was probably a good thing, but Leah had a hard

time viewing it that way. To hear Lady Chesterfield talk,

the rest of the ton had had a much harder time swal-

lowing the Leah- is- the- cousin- of- the- late- baronet story than His Grace had. The Duke of Granville’s attention

had gone a long way in convincing the rest of society

to accept Leah the way they had. Lady Chesterfield

couldn’t be happier. She smiled, she laughed, she flirted

with the duke. Leah was beginning to wonder why her

patroness wouldn’t admit she was halfway in love with

the duke herself. It was obvious to everyone except Lady

Chesterfield.

The carriage rolled to a stop in front of another large

home. Leah bunched her soft- blue ball gown up in her

hands to descend from the carriage. She didn’t remember

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who was throwing this shindig, or even what the hell day

it was. It was just another night that she’d be expected to

dance with His Grace, converse with His Grace, simper

at His Grace. She considered shoving a finger down her

throat so she could puke in the bushes and go home. Play

cards with Muriel or scrub a chamber pot or two. It’d be

less of a pain in the ass than being here, she was pretty sure.

“My dear Leah, come now.” Lady Chesterfield

gestured with the fan.

Leah trudged toward the door, her heavy stomps

sounding more like she was wearing combat boots than

fine kid slippers.

“Stand straight, my dear. Good heavens, are your stays

not laced snugly?”

Reluctantly Leah stiffened her spine. “No, it’s fine. I

promise. Sorry.” If they tightened this corset any more,

she’d need to be re- inflated when she took it off. She

sighed as deeply as she was able to when she handed her

wrap to a waiting footman. There were many long hours

between now and that blessed corset removal.

“Amelia, darling,” an approaching woman cooed to

Lady Chesterfield. “I have not yet had the pleasure of

meeting your charming protégé.”

Introductions, dancing, more introductions, more

dancing, chatting, warm and disgusting lemonade, it

was a carbon copy of almost every night she’d had since

moving into Lady Chesterfield’s home. It was hard not

to think of all the books she’d read, all the movies she’d

seen. This wasn’t elegant; this wasn’t magical. It was a

damned bore. Where was the romance of the whole

thing? It seemed to have gotten trampled beneath expen-

sive kid slippers and the feet of aristocrats.

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Leah’s smile started slipping as she stood in a group

of young people who were cheerfully gossiping about

some countess she didn’t know. A longing glance at the

clock revealed that it was approaching midnight. People

were being nice enough to her, but she didn’t want to

be there.

She wanted to be in an attic room, snuggled on a thin

mattress with Avery’s strong arms around her.

“Miss Ram,” the high male voice intruded on her

fantasy, and she jumped.

“I’m sorry,” she said, turning to Granville. “I was

daydreaming.”

“Dare I hope that I took part in your dream?” His

teasing smile wasn’t as hopeful as his words.

“Oh, you,” she said, smiling tightly and thwapping

him in the arm with her fan. She should have smacked

him harder. “I’m pretty sure we both know better

than that.”

“Would you take a turn with me about the room?”

He held out his elbow to her. She gave a desperate glance

to her conversation- mates, but there was clearly no help

there. The two young gentlemen appeared completely in

awe of the duke, and the ladies were all shooting daggers

at Leah.

Just her luck.

“Yes,” she said, trying to make it enthusiastic. She

slipped her hand in the crook of his elbow and the two of

them moved toward the edge of the crowded ballroom.

“Quite a crush, is it not?”

“It is,” she agreed, opening her fan. The slight stirring

of air across her throat helped, but it wasn’t enough. “It’s

a very nice ball.”

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