Rescued By a Lady's Love (Lords of Honor, #3) by Christi Caldwell Page B
Authors: Christi Caldwell
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“How very peculiar you do not wish to discuss the terms of your employment.”
Actually, she hadn’t. Since she’d entered the Duke of Blackthorne’s home, she’d not truly allowed herself to think to this moment. She’d grown so accustomed to the world saying no, she’d forgotten the universe still had an occasional yes for her. She cursed her misstep. For all the ways in which life and time had aged her, she’d never developed the skill of prevarication. If she weren’t more careful, it would land her in Newgate.
He winged a menacing black eyebrow upward.
Lily’s mind turned quickly. What did a woman require in terms of funds, in order to live secure and safe for the remainder of her years? “Forty pounds per year of service,” she blurted. That ridiculous sum was nearly triple the funds given to a woman in the respective position. Yet, those monies could be, nay would be, set aside for her future. Guilt needled at her, for ultimately when she made off with his coin, she’d also be gone with Holdsworth’s heirloom.
“Forty pounds per year?” His harsh, gravelly question caused her to jump.
Her future wasn’t something she’d allowed herself to think on or about, for the absolute grimness of such a prospect. In failing to acknowledge or confront that inevitable problem, with Sir Henry’s passing, she found herself humbled before another stranger, and now this man. What a cruel world women dwelled in. After living a life in chains of Society’s constraints and her own making, the tantalizing glimpse of freedom hovered just within her grasp. She squared her shoulders. “And a pension of five hundred pounds when I’ve completed my terms of service to Her Ladyship.” She braced for his blunt rejection of her outlandish requests, which mattered not. In the end, she’d be gone long before that pension was ever granted.
The duke downed the remaining contents of his glass. He set it down hard before him. “Very well.” He rose effortlessly from his chair.
He’d agreed? She followed his movements as he crossed over, serpent cane in hand, and rang the servant’s bell. “Very well?” she repeated back dumbly. He’d agreed to those terms. All of them? With no questions asked and from the woman who’d made demands upon him, no less. And with the respectable position he offered, for a foolish instant, she imagined abandoning Holdsworth’s plans and living here, with the Devil and all.
A hard glint lit his eye. It was a soulless, dark eye Satan would have begged the duke for. “Unless there is something more you’d ask for?”
As soon as the thought slid in, she abandoned it. If she failed to aid Holdsworth, he would see her in Newgate before he’d ever allow her a life of decency in this house.
Not for the first time since she’d agreed to this madcap scheme for survival, warning bells went off and blared loud in her ears. “N-no, there is nothing.”
A rap sounded at the door and she sent a silent thank you skyward at the interruption.
“Enter.” His thunderous voice kicked her heartbeat up into that frenzied rhythm he somehow managed to elicit with each command and utterance.
The butler entered the room. The poor man seemed to be a perpetual shade of gray. Or perhaps that was the effect of working in this particular household. He cast a commiserative glance in Lily’s direction and then swiftly turned his focus to his employer. “You rang, Your Grace?”
“This very important meeting is concluded.” She frowned at the mocking emphasis placed on that one word. Without waiting for any potential questions from the young servant, the duke walked slowly back to his desk. “If you’ll show Mrs. Benedict to her rooms?” he called out, not breaking his stride.
Lily hesitated. There was something she should say to him. She cast a glance back at Harris, who patiently waited with a pained glimmer in his eyes. He wanted out of the devil’s lair. And yet... She looked to the duke once
Actually, she hadn’t. Since she’d entered the Duke of Blackthorne’s home, she’d not truly allowed herself to think to this moment. She’d grown so accustomed to the world saying no, she’d forgotten the universe still had an occasional yes for her. She cursed her misstep. For all the ways in which life and time had aged her, she’d never developed the skill of prevarication. If she weren’t more careful, it would land her in Newgate.
He winged a menacing black eyebrow upward.
Lily’s mind turned quickly. What did a woman require in terms of funds, in order to live secure and safe for the remainder of her years? “Forty pounds per year of service,” she blurted. That ridiculous sum was nearly triple the funds given to a woman in the respective position. Yet, those monies could be, nay would be, set aside for her future. Guilt needled at her, for ultimately when she made off with his coin, she’d also be gone with Holdsworth’s heirloom.
“Forty pounds per year?” His harsh, gravelly question caused her to jump.
Her future wasn’t something she’d allowed herself to think on or about, for the absolute grimness of such a prospect. In failing to acknowledge or confront that inevitable problem, with Sir Henry’s passing, she found herself humbled before another stranger, and now this man. What a cruel world women dwelled in. After living a life in chains of Society’s constraints and her own making, the tantalizing glimpse of freedom hovered just within her grasp. She squared her shoulders. “And a pension of five hundred pounds when I’ve completed my terms of service to Her Ladyship.” She braced for his blunt rejection of her outlandish requests, which mattered not. In the end, she’d be gone long before that pension was ever granted.
The duke downed the remaining contents of his glass. He set it down hard before him. “Very well.” He rose effortlessly from his chair.
He’d agreed? She followed his movements as he crossed over, serpent cane in hand, and rang the servant’s bell. “Very well?” she repeated back dumbly. He’d agreed to those terms. All of them? With no questions asked and from the woman who’d made demands upon him, no less. And with the respectable position he offered, for a foolish instant, she imagined abandoning Holdsworth’s plans and living here, with the Devil and all.
A hard glint lit his eye. It was a soulless, dark eye Satan would have begged the duke for. “Unless there is something more you’d ask for?”
As soon as the thought slid in, she abandoned it. If she failed to aid Holdsworth, he would see her in Newgate before he’d ever allow her a life of decency in this house.
Not for the first time since she’d agreed to this madcap scheme for survival, warning bells went off and blared loud in her ears. “N-no, there is nothing.”
A rap sounded at the door and she sent a silent thank you skyward at the interruption.
“Enter.” His thunderous voice kicked her heartbeat up into that frenzied rhythm he somehow managed to elicit with each command and utterance.
The butler entered the room. The poor man seemed to be a perpetual shade of gray. Or perhaps that was the effect of working in this particular household. He cast a commiserative glance in Lily’s direction and then swiftly turned his focus to his employer. “You rang, Your Grace?”
“This very important meeting is concluded.” She frowned at the mocking emphasis placed on that one word. Without waiting for any potential questions from the young servant, the duke walked slowly back to his desk. “If you’ll show Mrs. Benedict to her rooms?” he called out, not breaking his stride.
Lily hesitated. There was something she should say to him. She cast a glance back at Harris, who patiently waited with a pained glimmer in his eyes. He wanted out of the devil’s lair. And yet... She looked to the duke once
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