Undressed with the Marquess (Lost Lords of London #3) - Christi Caldwell Page 0,3
woman.
“Hullo.” The lady spoke in a quiet voice.
Get down this instant, Darius, and kiss my cheek . . . Your grandmother orders it . . .
A child’s laughter pealed around the chambers of Dare’s mind, and he curled his hands tight, fighting the need to dig his fingertips into his temples.
His skin prickled from the weight of the stares on him, and he made himself relax his hands.
Because he didn’t want to look too closely at these people. He didn’t want to look and see . . . anything.
The duke stared at Dare. Moisture glazed the old man’s eyes.
Unnerved, and unable to meet that gaze, Dare shot a desperate glance at the closed door leading out . . . away from these people and the gilded world they belonged to. And yet Wylie would be there. Dare was as much a prisoner now, before these lofty peers, as he’d been with a bag over his head and a noose around his neck.
He made himself look to the last figure present: the young woman. She’d still not spoken, but rather continued to eye Dare cautiously.
Smart lady.
The duke gestured at the woman. “And this is Kinsley, your sister.”
His sister.
And the dais may as well have been kicked out from under his feet.
He stared, unblinking, at the young woman . . .
“I . . . don’t suppose that name means something to you?” the duke asked with a gentleness Dare wouldn’t have believed any nobleman capable of.
It is better that you’re gone, Darius . . . I know it . . . You know it . . . Life has gone on without you . . .
And not for the first time that day, his gut churned and tossed.
The duke swallowed loudly. “Hello, grandson.”
Hello, grandson.
Dare made himself go absolutely motionless.
All the while, wanting to flee.
To escape.
He was more cornered now than he’d been when his latest cell at Newgate had clicked shut, imprisoning him within its dank folds. And another cool sweat slicked his skin.
“Grandson?” Dare scoffed. “You’re a long way from Mayfair, Duke. You don’t have any family in these parts.” They were the truest words he could have tossed to the old duke. Dare turned to go.
The duke called out, halting Dare in his tracks. “Do you deny who you are? What you are?”
What he was . . .
Your brother is better suited . . . Your brother is better suited . . .
Turning back, he curved his lips into a cold smile. “My name is Dare Grey. And if you’re here looking for anyone else? You are wasting your time.”
“Wh-what does it mean, th-that he’d deny it?” The duchess’s voice crept up a pitch. “He’d rather be hanged than join us, Harold.” She wept against her fist.
The duke ignored his wife. “You know what we’re talking about, Darius.” The elderly lord spoke with a quiet insistence. “We know Connor Steele came to you. We know you’re aware of who you are.”
Aye, the same detective who had hunted Dare down in the streets and sought to bring him out of East London had been the one to contact his grandparents. “He went to you?” he asked, unable to keep the loathing from his lips. Dare had happily sent the man on his way . . . but it appeared he’d been undeterred.
“He did,” the duke confirmed. “And it is a good thing.” He looked meaningfully toward the doorway Wylie no doubt stood outside, at attention.
Yes, if it hadn’t been for that intervention, even now Dare’s lifeless body would be getting cut from the gibbet.
He balled his hands tightly and damned the duke for being correct. About so much.
This was the world Darius had been born to. The one he’d only briefly considered rejoining . . . and only a very long time ago. Back when he’d been a boy of fourteen.
It is better without you here . . . It is better without . . .
His mind balked at that also long-buried memory. For even then, he’d known the truth: he’d been away from that fairy-tale world too long, been too wicked, and done even more scandalous things—criminal ones, and not just the mischievous stunts of boys. As such, there was no other place for him.
“I can’t help you,” he finally said, his voice deadened. He resumed his march to the door. He’d take his chances with Wylie over the group assembled here. Dare had reached to knock when the duke called out, freezing Dare’s hand midmovement.