Who Wants to Marry a Duke - Sabrina Jeffries Page 0,13
so fast you won’t know which way is up. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly.”
At least he could be around to make sure Miss Norley didn’t cause any trouble. Or her stepmother, for that matter, who was liable to go marching off to Suffolk to “rescue” Miss Norley from the licentious duke half brothers.
After all, Grey had gained a reputation for wild living himself before he’d married. And in Thorn’s mind, Miss Norley and Lady Norley went hand in hand no matter what the young woman had told Grey.
Lady Norley’s “secret” concerning Father had even more potential to hurt Mother than it had when she’d been abroad. So far the baroness hadn’t said a word about it publicly, so it was probably best not to upset the family by telling them. Indeed, all these years he’d considered it well in the past . . . until Miss Norley had shown up here.
Protecting Mother was paramount now that they were digging into who might have killed their fathers. If he and his half brothers proved that their fathers had been murdered, then she’d have more than enough secrets to deal with.
Unless she’d known about it all along. Unless Mother had murdered Father because she’d found out about his mistress.
Thorn shook his head. The very idea was absurd. How would she have managed damaging a carriage to cause the accident? Assuming there had been any damage to the carriage—they couldn’t even be sure of that.
But it was possible that his father’s mistress—if he’d had one—might have had an irate husband. It was something they should all consider . . . after Thorn had investigated the accident. He’d put that off long enough. If Grey was taking steps to find out who was killing off the dukes in their family, then it was high time Thorn do the same.
Until he could get home to do it, however, he must keep an eye on Miss Norley. Even if he hadn’t entirely averted the crisis over Grey’s choice of chemist, he’d at least put himself in a position to mitigate it. Now he must take her on. Time to let her know he’d be watching her every move. And he hated to admit it, but he was looking forward to that.
Chapter Two
Olivia got more nervous the longer she made small talk with the duchess. While waiting for a dance with the Duke of Thornstock. Who’d once been the sole subject of her fantasies.
Drat him. Why had he shown up again just as she’d finally erased him from her memory?
Supposedly he’d spent the intervening years in unsavory pursuits. That didn’t surprise her. Clearly, Mama had been right—he was a scoundrel who’d only been dallying with her that night and who’d only offered for her because Mama had pushed him into it.
But Olivia had never learned what he’d meant when he’d spoken of Mama’s threats and their bargain. She’d asked, but her stepmother had never given any specifics—just that she’d threatened to ruin him in society.
Obviously Mama hadn’t realized whom she was dealing with. Dukes were immune to such gossip, although through the years Mama had done her best to blacken his reputation. Why he hadn’t fought back as he’d threatened years ago was anyone’s guess. Was it perhaps because after his temper had cooled he’d recognized that he’d done plenty to blacken his own reputation?
Mama had said Olivia was better off without him, duke or no, so Olivia had struggled to put him out of her head. But at night after leaving the laboratory, when Mama had insisted she embroider fire screens and cushions, Olivia’s mind had wandered to when he’d kissed her. The only time anyone had ever kissed her.
Like the embroidery she’d worked on, she’d embellished their brief moments together—a stitch here and a loop there—until she’d no longer been sure exactly what was memory and what was fantasy.
But nine years was a long time, and eventually she’d been able to put the duke from her mind for days and then weeks at a time. Now he was here, threatening to overturn all her hard efforts. A pox on him. She wouldn’t fall prey to his charm again, especially now that she knew how little it meant.
“I can’t imagine where those two have gone off to,” the duchess said kindly. “I assure you, Thorn is generally much more polite.”
Not to me. Although she felt as if she’d given as good as she’d got during their exchange, it had been exhausting. “Honestly, it’s fine, Your Grace.”