The Lady Tamed by Boyd, Heather (urban books to read TXT) 📗

“Jere—Mr. Dawes, please. There’s no need for you to be upset and leave in a huff. I am only living up to my promise to you.”

“A huff? Madam, I am deeply insulted.”

Fanny gaped. “What is so wrong with me doing the right thing by you? You need the money, don’t you?”

“Not as much as you must imagine.” Then, after taking one last look around, he snatched up a canvas sack and marched out the door without meeting her gaze again.

Chapter 14

Never again would Jeremy accept the patronage of a wealthy widow, unless she was a wizened old crone with no teeth. Just when he’d thought he had earned Fanny’s respect, he learned he’d never had it at all.

Jeremy marched toward the front door, full of righteous rage and disgust with her offer of money. How dare Fanny belittle his friendship, their connection, by offering to pay him more money just because he’d slept with her. He’d gone to her bed because he’d wanted her, not her money. Just her. The woman who he’d thought wanted him, too.

Apparently, he’d gravely mistaken the nature of her interest.

He was just a cock and a pair of willing lips to her. A pretend friend, a discardable commodity.

“Mr. Dawes! Just the man I want to see,” the Duke of Stapleton called out as he passed the entrance to the library.

Jeremy came to a complete halt inches away from escape and cursed under his breath. If it had been any other man, he would have ignored him. Jeremy pivoted slowly, finding the Duke of Stapleton emerging from the shadows of the chamber, as he’d done on the first day of his arrival at Stapleton Manor. He was even dressed the same. How had Jeremy mistaken his identity?

The duke looked him up and down, a frown growing on his face. “Going somewhere?”

Jeremy clutched his sack of few precious possessions under his arm. There was no point in pretending he wasn’t attempting to slip away. “Yes. Back to London. Like everyone else.”

The duke took a slow step in his direction. “To do what?”

“Return to the theater, I suppose.”

“Ah,” the duke murmured. “That is a surprise.”

“It shouldn’t be,” Jeremy said, glancing toward the door. Just a few more steps and freedom would be his. “You should be glad to see the back of me, I imagine.”

“You imagine wrong.” The duke gestured toward the library behind him. “Might we speak a moment before you go?”

Jeremy had grown to like and respect the duke and had time to spare, now the arrangement with the duke’s daughter had ended. Besides, the duke had housed him for the past week, largely without complaint. He could spare him a little time. “Of course.”

“Good. Come this way,” Stapleton ordered.

Once Jeremy was past the archway, the duke shut and locked the door behind them. That amused Jeremy so much, he grinned. There wasn’t a lock he couldn’t pick. This house, and all its treasures, could have been his if he’d wanted to remain a thief instead of trying to live as an honest man. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“Do sit down.” The duke settled into a chair, appearing relaxed, and gestured for Jeremy to do the same. “Tell me what you remember of your parents.”

The duke had asked that question before, and Jeremy shrugged at his dogged hunt for information about him. “I really don’t know anything about them. They died when I was young.”

“Do you know where you were born and when?”

Jeremy tensed. “London. Somewhere in the city. Don’t know the date.”

The duke’s brows shot up. “You don’t know your exact age?”

“No. I’ve always assumed I was about three when they passed.”

The duke nodded, clearly mulling over that fact. “If your parents died so long ago that you cannot remember them, who raised you?”

Jeremy did not want to answer questions. He would rather forget there was no one in the world who cared about him. He moved to stand behind his chair, facing the duke. “I’m sorry I don’t have answers to the questions you’re asking.”

“I am, too. The past influences any chance of success in any future, as I’m sure you’re already aware.”

Jeremy glanced toward the door, knowing he should be on his way if he had any hope of catching the afternoon mail coach returning to London.

“I know you can pick that lock, son, and you are free to leave at any time you choose,” Stapleton promised in a low voice. “The door is locked to keep everyone else out while we talk about your future.”

Jeremy froze a moment, then whipped his head around to face the duke.

“If you won’t take the time to explain yourself, a father must do his own investigating.” The man smiled. “I know any discussion of your past is a discomfort to you and likely for very good reasons. I cannot begin to imagine what you must have endured. But if I am to help you, then I insist on full disclosure here and now. I cannot protect my family if I don’t know what might one day become a threat.”

Jeremy clenched the back of the chair. “I’m no threat to your family.”

“I believe you, and I am glad. Glad for you, and for my daughter, too.”

“She doesn’t need to know anything else about me. Not now.”

“Fanny probably suspects a lot more than she lets on.” The duke smiled. “Raised among thieves, you’ve come a long way from Seven Dials.”

The hair on the back of Jeremy’s neck rose. “I never said that I—”

“Didn’t have to. You don’t get to be my age without developing the skill of reading between the lines. As I mentioned when we first met, my daughter is fond of taking in strays. The more hopeless the case, the better. She has a knack of bringing out the best in most people she helps, though.”

Jeremy scowled, angry at hearing yet again that he was a charity case. None of them would let him forget it. “Her so-called generosity