The Duke Identity (Game of Dukes #1)(38)
Or perhaps he regrets making love to you.
Her anxiety burgeoned. She didn’t have the wherewithal to contend with that possibility on top of everything else. An enemy had attacked her family, and she needed to focus on how to protect them. It would be too much to deal with a broken heart as well.
She’d fallen in love with Bennett. That was the way it happened for Blacks: as sudden and powerful as a lightning clap. She’d been struck at last, and she knew, for her as for her grandfather and all the Blacks before him, that there would be no second time.
Inhaling, she twisted her head to look at Bennett again…and her midsection churned.
Steely composure. Eyes that didn’t even see her.
“Leave us, girl.”
Her gaze turned to her father, who waved a hand at her the way one might swat at a fly. He was still dressed in the clothes he’d worn at the baroness’ supper, which seemed like it’d taken place a lifetime ago.
“Got a crisis on our ’ands,” Father snapped, “and you’re in the way.”
She fought the surge of despair. Was this to be her destiny? To spend her life being unwanted?
“I have a right to be here.” I will not be shut out…by any of you. “I am a part of this family, and we face our foes together.”
Her father’s face turned florid. “None o’ your lip, girl, or by God, I’ll—”
“Stop your bloody yammering, Todd!” Grandpapa’s fist hit the desk, the iron tube rocking. “Ain’t got time for this shite. Got a pox-ridden bastard to find and all you can do is flap your gums.”
Tessa bit her lip; her father fell silent, scowling.
“Well, Ming?” Grandpapa addressed his right-hand man. “Who’s the blackguard behind this?”
Ming’s long braid swung slowly side to side. “Not know yet, Mr. Black. Still looking.”
“Well, look ’arder!” Grandpapa roared. “What am I paying you for? My ’ome has been attacked by infidels, and you’re of no more use than a bump on a bleeding log!”
Ming didn’t flinch at his employer’s show of temper. Tessa knew he understood that, beneath Bartholomew Black’s rage, lay the grief of a man who’d failed to protect his own. But seeing the furrows that deepened on the loyal manservant’s forehead, knowing that he, too, had lost comrades this night, Tessa spoke up.
“It’s not Ming’s fault, Grandpapa. Whoever is behind this planned the assault well. The villain struck right before the change of guards, when our security is at its weakest. If Bennett,”—her voice trembled as she said his name, but hopefully no one noticed—“hadn’t caught those villains in the act, they might have set off all their devices and blown up the entire house.”
As it was, only the drawing room had sustained damage. Bennett, assisted by the staff, had managed to put out the flames before they spread farther. He’d even saved the family portraits: they now leaned against the walls of the study, the faces looking out with reproachful stares.
“As to that, missy,”—her grandfather’s eyes burned into her like hot coals—“what in bleeding ’ell were you and Bennett doing together at that time o’ night?”
Her breath wedged in her throat. Beside her, Bennett went still. With all the chaos, the two of them hadn’t had time to work out a story. One thing she knew for certain: there was no way she could tell her grandparent the truth. She would never endanger Bennett.
“It was a coincidence,” she said in a rush. “I was playing billiards because I couldn’t sleep. Bennett heard something and came to investigate. That was when we heard the attack.”
None of this was a lie. She’d just skipped over a few parts. Like Bennett’s scorching kiss, the way he’d touched her, shown her incandescent pleasure…
“If it weren’t for Miss Todd’s swiftness in alerting the others and ringing the fire bell, the damage would have been far worse,” Bennett’s deep voice said.
At the unexpected praise, she sent him a startled look. Bennett’s expression hadn’t changed all that much. Yet the approval in his eyes made her pulse throb with hope. She shot him a tremulous smile; was it her imagination, or did his stern features thaw a little?
“My Tessie shouldn’t ’ave been put in that dangerous position,” Grandpapa barked.
Grabbing his cane, he got up from his chair. He went to the portraits, his proud gait betrayed by its visible unevenness. He stopped in front of Grandmama’s proud visage, reaching out to touch the burnt edge of the frame. Some of the paint had melted, red dripping down the velvet curtains behind Althea Bourdelain Black. Thankfully, Grandmama herself remained preserved: beneath her pearl-studded coronet, she gazed out with serene green eyes, untouched by time and fire.
“No one in my family should e’er feel anything but safe and free,” Grandpapa said.
Although his back faced Tessa, she heard the emotion roughening his voice. She went to him, placed a hand on his sleeve. “Grandpapa, it’s all right.”
“Soon it shall be.” He straightened, turned. “Leave us, Tessie.”
“I will not. I can help. I’ll disguise myself, go to the taverns frequented by our enemies and spy on them—”
“Shut up, you stupid girl!” Her father sprang from his chair like a predator who’d been biding his time. “Or, so ’elp me God, you’ll get a whipping you shan’t soon forget.”