A Duchess a Day (Awakened by a Kiss #1) - Charis Michaels Page 0,21
my lady,” he sighed, “but not that beautiful.”
Helena paused with her hand an inch from the doorknob. She turned back to him. “I beg your pardon?”
“Nothing.” A growl.
“That was unnecessarily rude.”
“That was the point,” he mumbled. “I am rude. I am terrible. I am not to be trifled with. I am . . .”
He muttered to himself and spun away, mussing his disheveled hair again. He snatched a coil of rope from a carriage and tossed it on a bench. He clamped his hands behind his head and turned away.
“You should go,” he said, spinning back. “How did you leave the house?”
She glared and reached again for the door. “Good night, Mr. Shaw.”
The cold moonlight hit her like a slap, and she sucked in a little breath. She looked right and left, checking the alley, and then picked her way along the side of the stable.
He followed. “It’s risky for me to escort you, but I can follow from a distance. Tell me your plan.”
“Go to the devil.”
“My lady . . .”
She sighed. “There is a side door that leads to the cellar.”
“Of course,” he breathed. “Did you leave it unlocked?”
“Of course,” she mimicked.
They reached the low wall that lined the Lusk garden and she said, “I’m expecting your help tomorrow. Pray, do not disappoint me.”
Before he could answer, she scuttled over the wall. She heard him swear softly into the night.
“Take care inside the dark house,” he called in a whisper. “Go immediately to bed. This never happened.”
Helena ignored him. She crept through the moonlit garden and around the side of the terrace. Her mind was full. Her chest felt uneven; corners and crevices were rearranging themselves inside her heart. The cellar steps descended behind a stone ledge, and she hit them at a run, not looking back. She felt Declan Shaw’s gaze on her until the heavy cellar door closed out the night.
What she did not know, what even Declan Shaw did not know, was that they were not alone. He was not the only one who watched her. A third person lurked in the garden that night, unseen to Helena or Declan or the squirrels burrowing in the ivy. A cloaked figure, shoulders down, face obscured, quietly took in the impetuous heiress and the surly groom-spy and their fraught, silent, longing-filled good-bye.
Chapter Six
Declan waited all night to be sacked.
When morning dawned with no summons, he waited to be hauled to jail.
What in God’s name have I done? The question beat in time to his breath, his footsteps, his heartbeat.
He’d left the stable in a haze, worried about Helena’s progress and cagey with unsated desire. After the worry and the desire, regret slowly dawned—like misty cliffs seen from the deck of a boat. By the time the haze burned away, he was colliding with rock.
What. Have. I. Done?
He’d put his hands on a client. As violations went, it was previously unthinkable. He’d never once dallied with the provocative daughters of out-of-town merchants, nor the bored, aggressive wives of negligent dignitaries. Oh no, he’d waited until he was guarding the daughter of a bloody earl, and his job was to marry her off. And then he’d—
What have I done?
Gone and gotten yourself sacked, that’s what.
Putting his hands on a client was a violation of trust and safety and the opposite of his objective on this job.
When morning dawned with no termination, Declan embarked on the new day like a man who’d taken a dram of poison. At any moment, the deadly effects would hit.
But then breakfast came and went, morning chores—no accusations. Girdleston called for three carriages to muster in front of the house, with feathers and silks for the horses, dress livery for the grooms.
When they convened in Park Lane and the doors to Lusk House swung wide, family members spilled onto the stoop completely oblivious to him. He was indiscriminate groom Declan Shaw.
No one knew.
It felt like he’d somehow slipped from the hangman’s noose. Actually, it felt like the noose held, but the gallows had splintered and he’d scrambled away. Now he ran through the streets with a rope around his neck.
But then Lady Helena emerged, stepping into the bright autumn sun, raising a gloved hand to shade her eyes, and all the rumination and regret drained away. Her family milled on the steps fussing over a dog, and she wound her way to the street like a bright petal dropped into a moving stream. Declan held his breath, watching her. His eyes burned and the broken-off