While the Duke Was Sleeping (The Rogue Files #1)(23)

Suddenly a deep voice spoke. “I don’t know if he’s quite as admirable as all you claim, but regardless, he’s fortunate to have you.”

Poppy yanked her hand back from the unconscious duke with a stifled shriek, nearly losing her balance and falling from her chair. She hopped to her feet and positioned herself behind the chair, clenching her fingers along the back of it.

A man stood in the threshold, his shoulder propped against the doorjamb, arms crossed casually across his chest.

“Who are you?” she demanded. He was handsome and young and looked quite at ease in the duke’s home and not the least shame-faced to be eavesdropping.

He considered her, a speculative gleam in his eyes. After a moment, he stepped forward, his lean frame closing the distance between them with easy strides. “I’m Lord Strickland.” He nodded at the duke. “And I’ve known Marcus since we were lads in knickers.”

From the fine cut of his clothing—to say nothing of the fact that he happened to be in a duke’s bedchamber—she could have surmised he was a nobleman.

“O-oh,” she stammered, glancing from the duke and back to Lord Strickland, wondering how much he had overheard. “Have you been standing there very long?”

“Long enough.” His eyes glinted knowingly.

Oh, dear. Cold washed through her. She swallowed against her suddenly thickening throat. “I c-can explain.” She held up a hand in supplication.

“I think you did. When you were talking to Autenberry. Quite the enlightening conversation even if very one-sided.” He frowned slightly and looked down at his friend, the concern he felt for him evident in his eyes.

She dragged in a heavy breath. There was no doubt now. He knew. He knew everything. “I’m going to tell everyone . . . the dowager, his sisters, just as soon as they—”

“No. Don’t do that.”

“What?” She blinked. “You don’t want me to tell the truth? Why not?”

Lord Strickland nodded slowly, still staring at Autenberry. “It will only upset them. Last night when I called upon them they spoke so highly of you. You were their one bright light in an otherwise dark day. Don’t take that from them. Not now.” He lifted his gaze to her again. “And I liked what you were saying. It was honest.”

Except she was lying to everyone else. She shook her head. “But that’s what I’m trying to be . . . honest.”

“Time enough for that later. When Marcus wakes.” His gaze crawled over her face, assessing. “The dowager already speaks of you with such affection.” He looked to the duke again, then back to her, his gaze turning speculative.

“I—I . . .” Would she never cease to stammer?

“I’m beginning to see why.” Nodding, he continued his scrutiny of her. “I think you might be just what this family needs. You’re very kind and guileless.”

She winced at that description. She did not feel very guileless.

“Why not?” he continued with a shrug.

“Why not what?”

“You and Marcus. Why not? He needs someone.” He scoffed a little. “Desperately. Even if he doesn’t realize it, he has needed someone with a good heart for a while now.”

Was he jesting with her? She stifled a snort and shook her head. He could not think she might be a legitimate match for the duke. He was a duke! She was merely . . . Poppy Fairchurch.

“I’m sorry, my lord. You’re not making any sense. I should go now.”

He held up both hands. “Don’t let me scare you away. That was not my intention.”

“I need to go now, my lord.” She tried to move around the chair, giving him a wide berth. He stepped closer. It was going to be hard to bypass him in any direction without being within arm’s reach of him. Given as she was questioning his sanity, it seemed like a good idea to stay out of his range.

“You were all they talked about. Well, aside of their fears for Marcus, of course. ”

She nodded. “Of course.”

“Even Enid had nice things to say about you, and she can be rather taciturn. You gave them something else to focus on besides their fear. They were so thrilled that Marcus finally decided to wed . . . and to such a nice girl.”

She winced. “And yet you said nothing? As his friend you had to know he was not engaged to anyone.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to upset them further. And I wanted to meet you first. See this ‘nice’ girl for myself.”

She dropped her head guiltily. “I’m a fraud.”

“Yes, you are,” he agreed. “But you’re quite the loveliest person I’ve ever met and you saved his life.” He motioned to the bed with an elegant wave of his hand. “And everything that I overheard you say?” Her face warmed at the reminder. “You’re so sweet you make my teeth ache.”

Her gaze flew back up to his. “I beg your pardon, my lord?”

He nodded his head once decisively. “We shall not utter a word to the family. You will be whom they believe you to be.”

“I—I cannot do that!”

“It brings them some measure of happiness and right now they deserve that. I love this family. The dowager is . . . she’s a rare gem.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Generous and accepting to a fault. Autenberry often criticizes her for that, but then he can carry the role of arrogant noble a bit too far. Not his fault, I suppose. The old duke raised him to be that way.” Dropping his hand from his neck, his stare fixed intently on her face. “I’ll not have them hurt. Understood?” For a moment the soft friendliness of his gaze hardened, and she saw a glimpse of an entitled nobleman accustomed to getting his way. “If Marcus—” he caught himself and amended “—when he wakes, this can be sorted out. No one will care then as they’ll be so overjoyed that he is alive and well. If he doesn’t wake . . .” His voice faded. “Well. Then your little subterfuge won’t matter.”