In the Dark with the Duke by Christi Caldwell Page 0,4

to at last discover no one is truly safe . . .

V. Lovelace

London, England

1828

The world was on fire.

Lady Lila March, however, seemed to be the only one to have realized as much for nine years now.

And still, not everyone was suitably aware of the peril.

At that present moment, it was her widowed sister, Sylvia, who demonstrated an absolute lack of concern for life’s dangers.

Though in fairness, not very many years ago, in her naivete and innocence, Lila hadn’t been all that different from her sister.

“It w-was t-terrifying,” their mother, the dowager Countess of Waterson, wailed. “A-absolutely t-terrifying.”

Having long ago mastered the art of dwelling in the shadows, Lila stood in the farthest corner of her brother’s parlor. She hovered alongside the drawn curtains and made herself invisible to her mother, sister, and Constable Lockwood, that trio at the center of the room.

It wasn’t the first time Lila had witnessed her mother’s tears. The countess had been free with them over the years. Generally, they’d been brought forth to try and elicit cooperation from her daughters at the start of their London seasons. Even given all the tumult and turmoil the March family had faced, this was the only time she’d seen genuine crystal drops.

“You’re making more of it than there was.” Lila’s only sister, her elder by two years, spoke with a calm that did little to quiet their last living parent.

“I’m making . . . I’m making . . .” The dowager countess never managed to get the words out. Instead, she broke down into another blubber of tears. “Th-that woman was trying to t-take him. I-I saw the way she was s-staring.”

And as quick as the tears had come, rage took their place. Their mother turned a sharp glare on the constable who’d been summoned. “How are you people allowing this to happen?”

This . . . as in the kidnapping of innocent babes and children. Ever since the public had learned that first one, and now, according to the papers, a second heir to the peerage had been sold and traded to a gang leader from the street, the stories had gripped Polite Society and the papers.

“Not every woman or man who admires a babe is intent on kidnapping them. Please, tell her that,” Sylvia implored the constable.

Alas, all business and no-nonsense since he’d arrived, the handsome man in a sapphire suit and bowler hat didn’t look up from his notes. The same notes he’d been scribbling in his book since he entered the parlor to face an overwrought countess and her even-keeled daughter.

In a display of complete desperation, Sylvia turned to the silent Lila. “Please, Lila. You tell her she’s being unreasonable.”

That managed to bring the constable’s attention up and over . . . and Lila remained stock still, feeling exposed. Mr. Lockwood peered at her, and she made herself stay motionless under that scrutiny until he went back to his work.

Her sister pressed her with an imploring gaze.

Except Lila couldn’t give Sylvia what she sought. Nothing about this world in which they lived was safe, and she’d only be exposing a sibling she loved to greater peril if she offered false assurances.

Their mother ultimately answered for Lila. “Your sister won’t do that because she knows I’m right. There’s nothing natural about what has happened to these babes of the ton . . . and I’d not s-see your son fall to th-that same f-fate.” And just like that, the dowager countess dissolved into another noisy, blubbery fit.

“And how long did this woman follow you?” Mr. Lockwood asked her.

Even across the length of the room, Lila detected her sister’s audible and exasperated sigh. “She wasn’t—”

“Easily for the better part of an hour,” their mother cut in. She resumed wringing her hands. “It wasn’t natural, I say. There was nothing natural about it. How she was staring . . . How she was looking at the babe.”

“He is an adorable babe, Mother,” Sylvia said exasperatedly. “Why should anyone not admire him?”

Yes, her sister was correct on that score. Nearly two years old, Vallen had the same dimpled cheeks and charm his late father had possessed.

The constable finally lowered his notebook. “And you’ve never seen this woman before?”

“I’m here,” Sylvia snapped when the constable put that question to the dowager countess. “You might ask me.”

At last, he flicked a gaze over to Lila’s sister. “I’ll ask whomever might answer the question,” he said coolly. “And by your own assessment, you didn’t see a reason for concern. The dowager countess,