Page 32 of Yours Truly, the Duke
Not waiting for the butler to shut out their audience, Fredericka locked eyes with Wyatt. “However, you are right. I shouldn’t have come without proper notice, and I apologize for intruding on your evening.”
He matched her stare-for-stare. Anger blossomed in Wyatt’s chest. At her for putting herself and the children in danger of highwaymen, coach accidents, or other perils that could happen in the dark of night, and himself for handling her arrival badly.
“You’re not interrupting—”
“No? You were dancing!” She might have sounded wounded, but her eyes were throwing imaginary daggers at him with every word she spoke.
“With Priscilla,” he answered, having no patience for the accusations she implied. “It’s her—”
“Please,” she cut him off with the single word. “You don’t owe me an explanation about anything.”
“Apparently, I do, Fredericka, and on this we will be clear.” He heard the doors finally shut behind him and the music start again. “You misunderstood what I was doing and what I said.”
“So, this ismyfault becauseImisunderstood you?”
Tension like he’d never experienced before swirled and sparked between them. She was twisting his words again.
“When I said you shouldn’t have come, I only meant you shouldn’t have traveled at night. Not that you shouldn’t come to my house. What do you mean by such a foolhearted stunt? The roads leading into London from Paddleton are unsafe and riddled with crime at this time of evening.”
“I took precautions,” she challenged, refusing to back down. “I had the groom come with us.”
“A groom?” he barked, and swore under his breath.
“He and my driver are quite efficient with pistols and muskets, and both were well armed. We encountered no trouble. Perhaps the highwaymen took one look at the old carriage and assumed there couldn’t be anything of value inside or just maybe a guardian angel traveled with us. Whatever the reason, we are safe.”
Wyatt had never known such a headstrong lady. She was stubbornly ignoring his concern for what she’d done.
“You are far too independent for your own good, Fredericka,” he retorted. “Whatever the reason you were spared trouble, it doesn’t make the danger you put yourself in all right.”
“Not according to you,” she responded instantly.
“It’s just as well you came to London,” he said, realizing she’d not only stirred his passions when he’d kissed her at Paddleton, but she’d stirred his need to protect her and the children. He softened his expression and moved closer to her. “You need someone to take care of you.”
“I do not, sir. Can’t you just be thankful for the miracle you seem to think it was that nothing villainous happened tonight and let it go at that?”
Yes, he could. No matter how she arrived, the truth was he was happy to see her. Wyatt took hold of her upper arms thinking to draw her near and give her a quick hug of welcome but froze when Elise screamed out, “Don’t hurt her! Please, please don’t hurt her.”
“W-what are y-you doing?” Charles shrieked.
Wyatt let go of Fredericka instantly, stepped back, and held up his hands for all to see, wondering what in the hell he had done to cause the children to react so strongly.
“Wait,” he said cautiously. “I’m not going to hurt her.” Damnation. What was going on?
Fredericka gathered Charles and Bella closer to her, trying to enfold them into the comfort of her arms. “Shh—” she whispered to the children as she kissed the forehead of each one. “Everything is fine, my darlings. There’s no trouble,” she whispered softly to them.
Unsure what to say or how to restore calm, he offered, “See, I’m not touching her or anyone. Everything is all right. It concerned me to hear about you traveling at night. That’s all. Nothing else.”
Needing a moment to figure out what had happened, Wyatt kept his gaze on Fredericka’s, trying to determine if she really thought he meant to harm her in some way. It was apparent the children did. But why?
A childish sniffle caused him to look down. Bella was holding both hands squeezed tightly over her mouth, her shoulders were shaking, and a tear rolled down her cheek. Elise continued to sob pitifully with her face buried in Fredericka’s cloak.
What kind of man was he to make little girls cry?
Their sobs suddenly triggered memories from his past and, unbidden, his thoughts returned to his time at Eton when in the cold dark of night he’d heard quiet whimpersand deep moans from boys struggling with their fears and pains as they lay in their beds.
Because Wyatt hadn’t understood why the boys were crying, he hadn’t known how to comfort them. He’d just turned nine when he arrived at the boarding school and had seldom played with anyone his own age. He didn’t know what to do for them, so he’d stayed in his own bed and never tried to reassure any of them things were going to be all right.
Wyatt swallowed the old, tormenting emotions. He still didn’t know how to comfort anyone. Especially little girls.
