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

been no funds for baubles. “You will be a mere servant in this household.” He’d erroneously assumed she was a lady whose family was in dire straits.
    “I know that,” she said calmly. If she let on a trace of the elation filling her, he’d toss her out without a backward glance.
    The duke stared hard at her and for one terrifying, agonizing moment, it was as though he could see all the sins stamped on her skin. Then he said; “You are to be invisible. You are not to darken my door. I do not even want you in these corridors. You are to keep the child away from this hall and in her schoolrooms or nursery or....” He waved the bottle in his hand about. “Wherever it is children go. Can you do that?”
    Emotion pounded at her breast, numbing her to the sentiment she’d thought long dead—hope. He would allow her to remain! “I can.” A woman who’d done everything Lily had in order to survive could certainly handle a seven- or eight-year-old child. Failure would not be an option in this regard.
    His Grace set the decanter down hard. “Very well,” he said in his aloof, ducal tones.
    Yet for his shocking capitulation, she’d become suspect of any hints of uncharacteristic weakness in people. Those individuals, usually males, expected more in return. As he limped back to his desk, she called out. “Why would you do this?”
    With the same regality of the Prince Regent claiming his throne, the duke sat in his leather winged back chair. Between his large, gloved hands, he cradled his drink. “Would you talk me from my decision?”
    She was struck by how unwittingly close to the mark his rejoinder, in fact, was. For deep down, the part of her that was still good and decent chafed with the act of theft she intended to commit against this man—kin of George or no. Unable to form words past the guilt clogging her throat, she gave her head a shake.
    “There is the matter of your payment.”
    My payment. Lily stiffened and, reflexively, her fingers tightened along the arms of the chair. “And what form of payment do you expect?” she managed to squeeze out past tight lips. Ultimately all these powerful men wanted but one thing of her.
    “Expect?” he drawled.
    Lily folded her arms protectively at her chest and glared. Invariably, they all asked for more and that more, inevitably, entailed the use of her body.
    His Grace sipped from his brandy, all the while keeping that sole, ice blue eye on her. He ran his gaze up and down her person. “I am uncertain of the other employers you’ve had before this post, but I assure you, I do not have designs upon your person, Miss Bennett.”
    Those jeering words were, no doubt, intended as an insult. They had the opposite effect. The tension left her. “My name is Mrs. Benedict, and—” She promptly closed her mouth. Coward as she was, she slid her gaze away from the contemptuous sneer on his lips. How much greater that contempt would be if he knew she’d lain with his brother and then whored herself in the time since. Self-loathing unfurled in her belly. Unnerved by his presence, she shifted in her seat. “Have we concluded this meeting, Your Grace? I am eager to...” Escape . “Begin in my post.”
    He stared at her through thick, impossibly long, black lashes. A little fluttering danced in her belly. His was the beauty of darkly fallen angels, who’d tempt a lady out of her good name and virtue. Both of which she’d long been without. That satin black patch covering the remnants of his other eye gave him a sinister, dangerous quality. Then, he inclined his head. She drew in a steadying breath, stood up, and started for the door.
    She made it no further than the leather sofa.
    “Mrs. Benedict?”
    Lily froze and remained with her gaze trained on the doorway. He knows. He knows I am the whore who gave her innocence to his brother and came here even now on a plan to fleece him of his diamond. She turned slowly back. “Your Grace?”
    The young duke leaned back.