In the Dark with the Duke by Christi Caldwell Page 0,30

the Home Office.

And throughout his scrutiny, Lila kept herself absolutely still. That state having been the one skill she had mastered these past nine years. It was the surest way to not attract notice, and to be certain one remained safe from harm. All the while, her pulse pounded at the deep mire of lies she found herself diving into.

He finally let his hands fall. “Why don’t you get to whatever it is that’s brought you here again?” Lila remained silent, searching for words. “Don’t you have a family?” he asked with more gentleness than he’d shown in any of their previous exchanges.

And because of that, he deserved the truth. “I do.”

“One that cares about you?” His question came without inflection.

“Very much so.” She fought the twist of sadness in her chest. Most any other noble family would have committed their daughter to an asylum, had she descended into the state Lila had. At the very least, those powerful peers would have forced one such as Lila into marriage, foisting her on some dissolute lord who didn’t mind having a recluse wife.

“Tell me why a woman like you needs to learn how to fight.”

“All people should know how to protect and defend themselves, Mr. Savage,” she said quietly. “I expect you should know that as well as anyone.”

He shifted a gaze over her face, and she went still under that scrutiny. That all-knowing stare landed on the vivid scar she wore in the middle of her brow. Lila clenched her fingers, burying them in her lap. God, how she abhorred that mark. For the imperfection it was. And for the memory that had been stamped upon her skin of that once glorious August day.

“You’re going to have to provide more than that, Flittermouse,” he finally said.

He wanted her to offer him more details? Aside from her sister-in-law, Clara, she’d never shared any part of that hellish day in Manchester with anyone. Nor did she even know if she could.

Nervous energy hummed inside her.

Cries—her own, and other men’s, women’s, and children’s—all screamed around the chambers of her mind.

“Help me . . . Please, God . . . Pleeeeease. I’m here . . . Please . . .”

Lila struggled to swallow.

Shimmying down from her stool, Lila gave her back to Hugh Savage. “I witnessed the evil this world is capable of,” she said hoarsely. She made herself face him once more. “And I only know that I can’t move about it once more without knowing how to protect those I love from it.”

His heavily muscled frame went whipcord straight. “You’re in danger, then?”

Warmth chased away Peterloo’s demons. This was why he was the Savage Gentleman, then . . . One who was truly ruthless wouldn’t have given a damn whether a stranger to him was in peril. “I’m not in immediate danger from anyone,” she assured. Rather, she’d come to appreciate that everyone was always at risk.

Some of the tension went out of him.

She went on. “I want to equip myself with the skills to protect those I love.” Lila held his gaze. “I won’t share more than that. Though I expect you have your own secrets, Mr. Savage, and I’d not press you on yours, either.”

“Ah, yes, but I’ve not asked you for anything.”

Lila nodded. “Fair enough.”

“And is there a husband or protective relative whom I can expect would show up on my doorstep?”

“I’ve no family who would come here.” It was a lie by omission on her part. If Henry and Clara discovered her gone, they would track her to Hugh Savage’s and force her back to Mayfair. But they wouldn’t because they weren’t here. And by the time they returned, she’d be done with her lessons, and Mr. Hugh Savage would be only a memory.

Mere moments ago, he’d considered himself half-mad.

He’d been wrong.

There was nothing “half” about it. He was completely and totally mad. There was no other accounting for the fact that he’d entertained Lila for as long as he had, or that he actually was considering her request.

I witnessed the evil this world is capable of . . . And I only know that I can’t move about it once more without knowing how to protect those I love from it . . .

It had been those words that had given him pause. The ones that had confirmed beyond any shadow of a doubt that she was no part of the peerage. Those men and women didn’t know a thing of toil or struggle. And they didn’t