"Mr. Llewelyn," Elizabeth said firmly, "I think I've explained quite enough about my part in this sordid affair. I would appreciate a little more openness from you. How is it that the son of a duke is working as a nurse, and why are you so interested in what happened yesterday?"

Jack locked gazes with her and Elizabeth caught a glimpse of the steel behind his effortless charm. "As I'm sure you already know, I was cast out by my ducal family. I've no money, Miss Waterstone, and no skills other than fighting and binding up wounds. I'm no longer considered fit to grace society, so what else would you have me do?"

Elizabeth gave him her hardest stare, convinced that he was still concealing at least part of the truth, but unwilling to add to the complicated mess of feelings in her already overtaxed mind. "You didn't answer my question, Mr. Llewelyn. Fortunately for you, I really don't have the energy to care at the moment."

She sat next to her brother and pressed her fingertips to her aching brow. Michael reached for her hand. "Elizabeth, what do you intend to do now that the Foreign Office has cleared us of blame and taken Sir John and the Foresters into custody?"

Elizabeth pressed her lips together. She still found it hard to believe her mother had wanted her dead. "I don't know. I can't pay Mr. Llewelyn unless I find another occupation, and I've no references." She looked down at her clasped hands. "Lord Vincent asked me to accompany him to Switzerland, but I don't want to give him the impression that I could grow to care for him..."

"You can come home with me, my dear."

Elizabeth raised her head. As if summoned by her deepest longings, the duke had appeared at the door. Although he wore a stylish black coat, one sleeve hung empty and his left arm was in a sling. His gaze swept over Jack Llewelyn and Michael as he bowed.

"Would you allow me a few moments of privacy with your sister, Lieutenant Waterstone? There is much we need to discuss."

Michael looked at Elizabeth and she nodded. The duke closed the door and, unwilling to face him, Elizabeth rose, presenting him with her back. She walked over to the window and counted her shallow breaths as she waited for him to break the silence.

The duke cleared his throat. "I'm sorry about your mother. I was unsure whether or not she was involved in the plot and my ignorance nearly cost you your life."

Elizabeth looked over her shoulder and regarded the duke, who still leaned slightly against the door. He looked even worse than he had on the previous day and she suspected that his elegant clothing and stiff posture concealed more pain than he was allowing to show.

She raised her eyebrows. "You came all this way to commiserate with me about my mother? You should not even be out of bed, Your Grace. I'm sure your physician would be horrified."

He smiled. "You knew I would come, Elizabeth. As I said to your brother, we must talk. There are many things you need to understand..."

Elizabeth's hands clenched into fists as a slow anger began to burn through her. "Oh no, I understand you completely, Your Grace. If you had trusted me as I trusted you, no explanations would be necessary. You took advantage of me from the first moment we met, and you threw me out when I was no longer of use to you."

"I admit that my treatment of you might seem a little harsh, ma belle," the duke said carefully, "but you must remember that I was trying to safeguard the security of the nation..."

Goaded beyond thoughts of her own safety, Elizabeth stormed across the carpet until she stood toe to toe with the duke. "And I was trying to help you! You refused to believe me when I tried to warn you about Sir John, you gave me to your cousin as if I were a brightly wrapped bonbon, and now I expect that you want me to jump straight back into bed with you!"

The duke straightened, the smile dying on his lips. "I gave you into my cousin's keeping so that I could be sure you were safe." He moved closer, his hand outstretched. "Elizabeth, come home with me. You know in your heart that you don't wish to leave with Vincent."

"This isn't about Vincent, Your Grace." Elizabeth stepped back. "It is about trust, and you have shown me none."

The duke frowned. "That isn't true, I--"

Elizabeth spoke over him. "And why shouldn't I leave with Vincent? Despite your doubts, he had the ability to see the truth about me and trust my word."

He frowned. "Which was foolish of him, as you managed to evade his care."

"And saved your life, Your Grace!" Elizabeth snapped. Why was he worrying about the security of the nation and not about her leaving with Vincent? Didn't he understand anything? "Our bargain is void. As you so often pointed out, we never truly had a real relationship. Your mistrust of me made it impossible, and I've paid for your services in more ways than I can count." She gathered her courage and stared into his stormy gray eyes. "I despised you when I first had the misfortune to fall into your hands, and now I've learned to hate you."

He drew back as if she had slapped him. "Ah, and I thought I had learned to love you." His outstretched hand dropped to his side. "I will bid you adieu, then, Miss Waterstone."

He loved her? Then why was he leaving her?

He paused, and to her chagrin, Elizabeth's heart gave an uncomfortable lurch of hope. In the distance, the front door bell jangled and the hum of masculine voices exchanging loud greetings dissected the tense silence between them.

The duke exhaled. "However, if you can bear my objectionable presence for a moment longer, there is one more service I've rendered you. Your brother Hugh arrived at my house yesterday, demanding to know where you were, and I spent some time with him this morning."

The duke frowned as the voices in the hall grew louder. "He gave me some very valuable information about your deceased father's family. If I had known that you were the granddaughter of General Marmaduke Waterstone, one of my father's closest friends, I could have taken you to him at our first meeting, and all this," he snapped his fingers dismissively, "could have been avoided."

He bowed and opened the door and Elizabeth recognized her brother Hugh's commanding voice echoing up the stairwell. She remained still, afraid that any movement might propel her into the duke's arms.

He looked down at her. "If we are speaking of trust, Elizabeth, you might care to examine your own motives for keeping me in ignorance of your family." His gaze dropped to her tightly clasped fingers. "Some might say that you are just as guilty of concealing the truth as I am."

Chapter 36

"She turned me down flat, Vincent."

Gervase threw his hat and gloves onto the fragile table in Angelique's drawing room, took the proffered glass of brandy from his cousin, and downed it in one. He waited until his glass was refilled before sitting in one of the rose-patterned wing chairs beside the fire.

His shoulder hurt like the devil and he knew that he courted a fever by refusing to languish in bed as his physician insisted but he had needed to see Elizabeth.

Angelique, who had graciously agreed to stay in her house after Gervase made her an abject apology, reclined on a pink velvet couch, surrounded by her lap dogs. Vincent took the chair opposite Gervase, the brandy decanter in his hand, his expression full of interest.

"Elizabeth did what?" Vincent asked.

"Didn't you hear what I said? She doesn't want me." His cousin looked delighted until Gervase continued, "and there is no point in getting your hopes up, Vincent, she doesn't want you, either." He ran a hand through his hair. "What in damnation am I supposed to do now?"

Vincent started to laugh and seemed unable to stop. Gervase barely resisted the urge to strangle him with his own cravat. He waited until his cousin controlled himself and held out his glass for more brandy.

Vincent wiped his eyes. "I'm sorry, Gervase, I know this is painful for you, but you must admit it is highly amusing. The mighty Duke of Diable Delamere proposes to a nonentity, and is refused. I never thought I'd live to see the day."

Gervase swirled the brandy in his glass and inhaled its rich heady scent. "I didn't even get around to proposing. I asked Elizabeth to come home with me and she ripped up at me like a shrew. In truth, I scarcely managed a word after that." Gervase frowned, stretched out his legs, and propped his feet on the tiled hearth. He hated having to confide in Vincent and Angelique, but for once his agile mind was in total disarray. He had never fallen in love before, and a mere female had certainly never bested him.

Vincent continued to stare until Gervase began to feel uneasy. "You asked her to come home with you before you asked her to marry you?" Vincent made a tutting sound that set Gervase's teeth on edge. "I'm not surprised she flew into alt. She probably thinks you want her to continue to be your mistress."

Guiltily, Gervase recalled a snippet of his heated conversation with Elizabeth. He hadn't contradicted her when she'd assumed he wanted her back in his bed, so perhaps it wasn't surprising that she had jumped to the obvious conclusion that he still wanted a mistress rather than a wife. But still, how could she have refused him? He had been so sure that she loved him.

Disgusted with his own weakness, he looked directly at Angelique for the first time that night. "Go on, you may as well say it. I've made a complete fool of myself, haven't I?"