Heartless (14 page)

Leandra grabbed the first pelisse she touched which thankfully was a lovely rose pink that matched her gown of pink sprigged muslin to perfection. She threw it on and buttoned the row of tiny buttons down the front and shoved her feet into some sensible half-boots instead of her soft kid slippers.

She was leaving her dressing room when Liza rushed in out of breath. “Oh, your grace, the duke is looking for you,” gasped the maid. “Mr. Stark said as how his grace has searched all of the morning and he was headed to the study when I saw you running up the stairs and thought to warn you.”

“I was not running, Liza. A lady never runs,” replied  Leandra in her best duchess tones.

The little maid grinned. “Of course not, your grace.”

“Thank you for letting me know that his grace is looking for me. I’ll be sure to seek him out…as soon as I return from my walk with Mr. St. Clair.”

The maid gave her mistress a knowing look. “And what shall I tell his grace when he asks me where you have got to?”

Leandra paused in the act of drawing on her gloves and stared at the girl. “Tell him the truth, Liza. I am out walking.” She threw the maid a smile and walked out the door.

Derringer entered the study mere seconds after Martin had left. He stood in the center of the rather small chamber and stared around him with an annoyed frown on his harsh features. He had the feeling that he was being avoided.

Oh, well, he thought in resignation. If his wife wished to avoid him, he’d oblige her. He’d grown weary of the chase. Besides, she couldn’t hide forever, even in a mausoleum like Derringer Crescent.

The study used to be his father’s domain. He remembered coming here once as a very small boy. The old duke had been discussing something with Mr. Comfrey, the man who used to serve as steward. Little Hart had stood patiently waiting for his father to acknowledge him and was disappointed when his father had told him to leave instead and not to enter the study again until he was asked.

Derringer could still remember the feeling he got every time he had been around his father. And for some reason, this room only emphasized the fact that his father had not loved him. Perhaps it was because it still felt and looked so much like the late Duke of Derringer. Except…

Derringer approached the desk and looked down. The top was scattered with sheets of vellum and parchment covered in a delicate feminine hand. His wife’s. He studied the handwriting minutely. He noticed she had a tendency to underline some of her words with the tail of the last letter. Oddly flighty for such a common-sense sort of girl.

Then he realized what he was looking at. Plans to renovate the dower house that was located on the grounds outside the castle wall. Why the devil did she want to do that?

The suspicion crossed his mind that she might be considering living there herself. He was surprised that he didn’t want her to. But why should he care? He didn’t love her. She was nothing more than a poor abandoned girl he had felt sorry for and married. She was nothing to him. That he got a fortune in the bargain was just a bonus for his act of selflessness.

Selflessness, hah! Even Derringer had to admit that it was his own sense of injustice that he should be denied his rightful inheritance by a father who had more than proven that he had not a speck of regard for his son that had prompted his proposal to Leandra Harcourt. The fact that he actually desired his bride was the bonus, he thought with a wicked smile.

And she desired him, he knew from her reaction last night. Well, part of her reaction anyway. She had definitely responded to his teasing as he had hoped. But the way she so quickly recovered her poise was enough to make him wonder.

Derringer strode from the study in more of a temper than when he had gone in. He wasn’t even planning to quiz her about her behavior of the night before. He only wanted to ask his wife if she knew why her brother would be in France and if she knew Fraser D’Arcy. She probably knew nothing but he had to ask.

Then he had to set sail again and retrieve his cousin before the trail grew cold.

10

“Forgive me for saying this, Merri, but you do not appear to hold Hart in very much affection,” pointed out Martin as they strolled companionably in Michaella’s wake.

The rear gardens were bare of vegetation since it was November and the air was crisp but Leandra found it lovely to walk about outside anyway.

She pondered Martin’s observation and wondered if perhaps she ought to tell him of her odd relationship with her husband. But did Martin have any right to know? If the duke had not seen fit to inform him, why should she?

She was strangely ashamed of herself for leaping at the chance to be married to a duke anyway. She had, of course, actually agreed before she had learned he was a duke, but it had only enhanced the appeal to be rescued by such an attractive man possessed of both title and consequence. Leandra had always known what a plain young woman she was and had never imagined that a handsome man would fall in love with her and insist that she marry him. Derringer had not professed love but how could he when he had only just met her?

She’d not had any romantic notions in regard to the duke because of their unique circumstances, but she was not about to cavil at fate for her marriage. She had taken the leap and she would deal with the consequences even if they were not particularly palatable at the moment. Perhaps things would change and her husband would fall in love with her.

But could
she
fall in love with
him
? 

“Do I not?” she asked her handsome companion, returning to their conversation. She gave a little shrug. “I am sorry I seem so, but I truly do have a great regard for your cousin,” she told him truthfully. “I am annoyed that he insists on spending so much time away when we are so newly married, but…” She shrugged.

Martin seemed to take this with a grain of salt but he said nothing to that effect. “How soon did he leave after you were married?” He swiped at an overgrown rosebush with his walking stick and turned to gaze at her steadily.

“The day after we married,” she replied. She was definitely not going to tell him that the marriage had yet to be consummated.

“I have to admit I was shocked when Hart told me. I would never have thought he would marry. He had always said he never would.”

“Oh, and he may not have, had circumstances been different,” Leandra said without thought.

Martin seized upon her statement. “Circumstances?” he inquired idly.

“Oh, you know, meeting me and falling in love,” she answered blithely. She cringed inside at her slip and consequent fib. She hoped her husband never heard what she had said.

“Yes, Martin, so I am sure you won’t mind me stealing my bride for a moment,” said a smooth voice behind them.

“Oh, Lord,” the duchess muttered before she turned with a bright smile on her lips and a pleading expression in her eyes.

That was when Derringer realized he could never deny her when she had that particular look in her eyes. He would slay dragons for her just to see that look disappear. He wanted her to truly smile again. Damn, but that was not a feeling with which he was comfortable.

“Hello, Hart,” said Martin, offering his hand.

The duke shook it warmly. “How do you do, Martin? It’s been a while, has it not?”

“Indeed it has,” Martin smiled. “And now I will leave you with your bride. We can catch up later.”

The secretary walked away and Leandra watched him go with something akin to regret. She really did not want to be alone with her husband.

“Leandra.” The duke held out his arm and waited for her to take it.

He was being everything that was polite—a circumstance that made his wife very uneasy. Leandra placed her hand gingerly on his arm and smiled up at him. “How was your morning?” she asked brightly.

They walked for a bit before the duke responded to her question and then in a way she had not expected.

“Doing it a bit too brown, my love,” he murmured with a sharp look at her face.

Her heart skipped a beat at the mocking endearment. He was not being polite then but merely toying with her like a cat toys with a mouse before killing it. She glanced behind her back, saw they were not being observed by Martin or any of the outdoor staff, and dropped her hand from his arm. The duke said nothing and linked his hands behind his back.

“I do not know what you mean,” she said stiffly.

“And I thought your one redeeming quality was honesty.”

She inhaled sharply. “Why don’t you just say what you mean instead of playing games,” she snapped.

He looked at her in amusement. “And I have succeeded in driving away your serenity once again,” he remarked. “And with so little effort on my part.”

She strove for calm. “Nonsense, your grace. I am ever calm.”

“I recall another time in which you were less than serene, my dear. You were in fact quite…bothered,” finished the duke with a wicked smile.

Her heartbeats picked up and color rose to her cheeks. Whether it was from anger or embarrassment or something entirely different was anybody’s guess. “That was a unique situation, your grace. And you are no gentleman to bring it up,” she retorted.

“I never claimed
that
title, Merri. I only ever claimed to be a duke. And I am that.”

They were silent for several minutes. They had wandered toward the stables without either one of them noticing. Derringer led the way into the stables and to two stalls near the end. Leandra knew that Satan’s Son and Lucifer’s Lady were stabled there. She herself had grown quite fond of Lady.

Derringer was oddly silent as he approached the stallion. He said something low to the animal that made Satan whinny in answer. The duke smiled and reached into his pocket. He held his hand palm-up and gave him a small apple. Satan nodded and whinnied his approval. Then Derringer did the same for Lady. He received much the same reaction he had gotten from Satan.

Leandra stood a little distance away and watched this. She was amazed at how very gentle he was with the animals. He even reached down to pet the huge black dog that trotted up to sit at his feet.