Rescued By a Lady's Love (Lords of Honor, #3) by Christi Caldwell

deduced...? Perhaps his brother had marked her a whore in every way. She told herself to shake her head and managed that brusque movement.
    “Did you tire of his advances? Did his wife turn you out?”
    Her legs twitched from the urge to flee under his relentless line of questioning.
    Then, as all bullies inevitably did with the lack of reaction, he backed off. “What knowledge would one such as you have in caring for a child?” He did not stand in wait for his answer but rather crossed the room. Lily jumped at the rhythmic click of his cane. The duke limped over to the sideboard and set his cane down. His hand hovered over the neat row of crystal decanters.
    Argh, I am the pirate come to steal you precious children. The haunting laughter of her brothers and sister and their childhood games, echoed around the chambers of her memory. She thrust aside their unaging faces. “I had younger siblings,” she said, damning the faint tremble to her words. For the crime she’d committed, Lily was dead to them. He paused, his fingers atop one of those bottles. She braced for questions on the fate of those siblings just mentioned. “Having been an elder sister, you think that makes you able to care for a child?” Technically, she was still a sister. She’d not debate that particular point of her history with him. “What? Nothing to say?” he taunted.
    Of course, she should have gleaned a cold-hearted, emotionless figure such as he wouldn’t waste inquiries into her personal past. Not even as it might pertain to his niece’s circumstances. “In having siblings I learned—”
    “I can read. Does that qualify me to instruct students at Oxford because of it?”
    Odd, she’d taken a coarse, unfeeling beast such as him as incapable of caring for the child. She fixed on that revelation and not the aching remembrance of the brothers and sister she’d never again see. Lily cleared her throat. “As a duke, you’d surely be granted any post at Oxford should you...”
    He looked over his shoulder and withered her with a look. “Are you making light of me, Mrs. Benedict?” The edge to his words, sharper than any blade, hinted at his barely contained fury.
    “No.” The denial exploded from her. Ever since she’d been a small girl, she’d always made a muck of explaining herself. Unknowing where she found the courage to continue, she turned her palms up. “I am not.” In the hope of putting her thoughts to order, she drew in a calming breath. “It is admirable you are concerned for the child as you are.” Lily would have traded her left hand and perhaps her leg, too, for a family who was unflinchingly devoted to her.
    Bottle in his hand, he turned suddenly about. “Do not make more of my inquiry,” he ordered, steeling his jaw. She lifted her head. And yet with his determined inquiries, he’d already revealed that, despite his protestations, he cared a good deal more than he let on—even to himself.
    “I would not dare presume.”
    “No, you’d merely presume in invading my home and demanding a meeting with me.”
    Yes, well he had her there.
    Silence stretched on, punctuated by the snap and hiss of the raging fire in the hearth and a steady dread built inside. She’d not allowed herself to consider what would happen if she proved unsuccessful in entering the duke’s home. Lily curled her fingers into balls and her nails pierced the soft skin of her palms. What happened to a whore with nothing? A whore, she remained...
    “If I grant you the post, you will have no fine garments,” he warned. He flicked the slight puffed sleeve of her satin gown and she stiffened. Then his words registered and hope blossomed in her breast. Despite his taunting words and warnings, a giddy sensation ran through her. He would grant her the post! “There will be no lavish jewels and balls to attend with a mere girl.” Even as a mistress, she’d not attended balls. Her protector had given her food, a place to dwell, but there had