Tutoring Miss Molly Page 13

“I can’t,” she replied.

  “Why not?”

  How could she tell him everything she had tried to deny within her heart?

  He reached out to cradle her cheeks in his palms, but pulled away his blistered hands. “Do you not…love me?”

  Molly picked up his wrist and studied the raw wounds the fire had left on his palms. A pang of guilt cut deep for the pain he’d suffered to keep her safe. “Yes, I love you. That is why I must leave.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Molly rose unsteadily to her feet. “Come, I am sure His Grace is worried about you.”

  He opened his mouth say something and then closed it. His somber eyes spoke what his lips could not as he helped her to her feet.

  The wall clock chimed midnight by the time they returned to the manor. Instead of finding the ballroom in full festivities, the manor was silent and dark.

  “Where is everyone?” Molly asked.

  “I assume the constable sent the guests home until Yvette’s investigation is completed.”

  Sadness weighed heavy on her heart for her only friend. “She didn’t deserve to die like that.”

  Placing his arm around her shoulders, he rubbed her chilled skin with the back of his hand, the warmth of his body consoling her. “I will make sure Lady Audrey pays for her crimes.”

  Molly halted at the base of the stairs. “I am going back to my room. I feel like a chimney sweeper.” She flicked a strand of her sooty, oily hair.

  “I will accompany you.”

  “No, you do not need to. You should inform your father about Kenneth.”

  Devlin stepped closer. “He can wait.”

  She planted a hand on his chest. “I am fine. I just need to wash up and rest.”

  He looked down the hallway toward the library.

  “Go. Tell him we are safe.” She gently shoved his chest and smiled.

  Devlin nodded. “I’ll see you shortly.”

  Warily, Molly took each step up the long staircase. Her weak limbs ached as much as her heart did. So much hatred and jealousy caused the death of two people. The horrific image shot into her mind of Audrey’s soulless eyes when she killed Kenneth. She hoped she never saw that woman again.

  “This won’t do at all,” a female’s voice came from the top of the stairs.

  Molly froze on the last step, unwilling to look up.

  A tight grip yanked her wrist, pulling Molly up to stare face to face with her rival.

  “How am I to seduce the grieving duke into marrying me if you and Devlin spoil my plans by living?” Audrey snarled.

  “It is over. Devlin is telling His Grace everything that happened.” Molly yanked her wrist out of Audrey’s grasp. “You should escape while you have the chance.”

  Audrey threw her head back and laughed. The sound sent a shiver through Molly. Forcing her legs to move, she ran down the hallway until she was wrenched backward by a hand grabbing her hair. Searing pain shot through her scalp.

  She yelped, tears stinging her eyes. “Stop this,” Molly growled and fought her off.

  Audrey’s face remained calm, which frightened her all the more.

  Pushing against each other’s arms, they shuffled together, Audrey forcing her closer to the stairs.

  Molly used all her fading strength to fight her, but they still neared the steep staircase. “Audrey, stop it. You are going to get us both killed.”

  Audrey’s fingernails dug into Molly’s skin, but she tried to resist her with everything she had. Teetering on the edge of the staircase—panic welled in Molly’s throat—she was losing the battle for her life.

  “Molly!” Devlin’s voice shouted up from the foyer.

  Audrey’s gaze shifted downstairs for a split second, giving Molly a moment of strength. With all her might, she ducked under Audrey’s arm and dived for the floor.

  Without the restraining force of Molly, Audrey lost her balance. Waving her hands in the air, she screamed and fell down the stairs. In layers of ebony satin, she landed at Devlin’s feet, her neck twisted in an awkward angle.

  Devlin raced up to the landing and crouched by Molly’s side. “Are you all right?”

  She wanted to respond, to tell him she was all right, but her eyes rolled backward and blackness stole the words from her mouth.

  * * * *

  The smell of hot chocolate roused Molly from a deep slumber. Stirring herself awake, she sensed someone sat on the bed beside her. She rubbed sleep from her eyes to find her aunt smiling, her face aglow with health.

  “Rose? Is that you?”

  “Yes, darling. I am here.”

  “But, how?” Molly tried to sit up, but her head pounded, sending sparks behind her eyelids.

  Rose gently pushed her back onto the bed. “Take it easy. You have been through quite an ordeal.”

  “Wh…where is Devlin?”

  “He is hale and hearty, and downstairs talking to the constable and his father.”

  Molly ran her hand through her knotty hair and scanned the room. Devlin’s masculine furnishings surrounded her. Strangely, it reassured her to be in his chamber. “How long have I slept?”

  “About three days. His Grace sent for me after you fainted.” Rose’s usual serene eyes seemed to have aged since last she had seen her.

  “I am sorry you were worried.” Molly held her aunt’s warm hand.

  “I am just thankful you are all right.”

  “Lady Audrey?”

  “She broke her neck on the fall,” Rose replied in a soft voice.

  “Joves?”

  “He was caught in the next shire. They found him on the side of the road with blood on his shirt, weeping uncontrollably about his son.”

  A tear trickled down her cheek. So much had happened, she did not know if she understood it all, but her heart grieved for the unnecessary loss of life.

  Through her misty eyes, she glanced at her aunt’s calm face. “I have failed you.”

  Rose gave her a reassuring smile. “No, you haven’t, my dear.”

  “Yes, yes I have. You told me a courtesan must not involve her heart. And…I did. I have fallen in love with my tutor, Lord Devlin.”

  “So I hear.”

  Molly sobbed. “We could never have a future together. I have ruined everything.”

  “Perhaps you need to talk to the man in question.” Rose patted her hand and stood.

  “I understand why you ran away from your lover, His Grace.” Molly tenderly pushed herself to sit up. This time her head only gave a dull ache. “I could not watch Devlin marry another woman. Love another woman.”

  A grin plastered on Rose’s face, but she remained silent.

  “Can you please pack my belongings? I wish to leave with you when you go.”

  Rose crossed her arms. “I do not plan to leave anytime soon. You see, Richard and I have become…” she cleared her throat, “reacquainted, since you’ve been asleep. And well…he has asked for my hand in marriage.”

  Molly stared wordlessly at her aunt. “You are betrothed…to His Grace?”

  Rose’s face suddenly appeared younger, softer. “I guess he never stopped loving me, and I him.”

  Molly opened her arms wide and her aunt gave her a hug. “I am so happy for you.”

  “So tell me why you are refusing Devlin’s suit? If you are worried about his father—”

  “Yes, no.” Molly released her aunt and stared down at her hands. “He asked me to be his mistress, but I do not truly know how he feels about me. Just when I think he will open up to me, he closes his heart off.”

  A knock sounded at the door, and Devlin stepped in.

  “Now is the time to ask him,” her aunt said. “I will be downstairs if you need me.”

  Devlin took off his top hat and bowed his head as Rose walked out. His smile lightened the room, and her heart. He looked dashing in his black tailored suit, his bronze hair falling over his brow. He was every woman’s dream: a handsome aristocrat of poise, honor and stature. And
she was just a courtesan.

  “Ask me what?”

  Molly took a deep breath, steadying her emotions for what must be said. “Let’s go out onto the terrace.”

  He took her hand and clutched it to his chest. “I am glad to see you are awake and well.”

  The clouds thinly covered the sun, but its warmth still filtered through her white linen nightgown. She turned to Devlin and held both of his hands. “The only thing I can remember about my parents is that they loved each other without reservations.”

  Devlin inclined his head.

  She continued, “Being your lover, your courtesan, is a good prospect for a woman like me. I know you would be kind and generous and provide me with everything I need. A week ago, I prayed for such an opportunity, but something has changed within me.”

  Molly kissed his rough knuckles. Tears threatened at the thought of leaving him. “I dare not stay to watch you marry another. My heart could not take it.”

  He lifted her chin. With the pad of his thumb, he wiped a stray tear on her cheek.

  “I…”

  He placed a finger over her lips.

  “Please, this is rather hard for me to say.” He slowly blinked. “My whole life, I trained myself not to feel anything for a woman. I had kept my emotions and my heart closed to everyone. It was safer that way. Then you came into my life and forced me to see things differently. You may have come here for me to tutor you...but it was you who taught me how to love.”

  He lowered his lips to hers and lightly kissed her. “I do not want you to be my courtesan, Molly. I want you to be my wife.”

  “But what about your father?”

  “He is finally brave enough to marry his own true love. Something he should have done a long time ago.” Devlin traced the arch down her nose and smiled. “I am not going to make the same mistake my father did. Please do not make the same mistake as your aunt and run away.”

  She leapt into his arms and held him as tightly as she could. “I won’t. I won’t,” she cried.

  He unclasped her hands, his gray eyes somber, his face fallen. “You won’t marry me?”

  “No, I mean I won’t make the same mistake.” She giggled. “I will marry you.”

  He lifted her up and twirled her around, and they laughed together. When he placed her onto her feet again, she pulled him back into the bedroom. “I have something to show you. Something you have not taught me.”

  His eyebrow arched, a wicked grin tipped the corners of his mouth. “Oh, and what is that?”

  She pushed him back onto the bed, and climbed on top of him. “How a farm girl shows love to a marquess.”

  About the Author

  Born in Queensland, Australia, Lyn Armstrong has a passion for writing historical romance with an erotic element. This self-confessed romantic wrote her first novel in the early 1990’s and has been writing ever since. Along with touring the countries she writes about, Lyn has served on the board of Florida Romance Writers. When she is not lost in the mystical world of Scottish lairds and enticing witches, she enjoys spending time with family and friends.

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