A Forbidden Waltz With the Dashing Duke

by Hazel Linwood

  “Rowena!” he called out as loudly as he could. “Rowena, are you here?”

  “Get out of here,” the butler huffed and pushed him back, using the heavy oak door as leverage. The door shut in Christopher’s face before he could get a good look inside and he found himself standing on the doorstep. Utterly helpless.

  He rushed down the steps and stood in the street, assorted carriages and riders yelling at him to make room as he looked up. The building was four stories tall. If she was indeed held here, there was no way he would know where she might be. He signaled for Thorpe to wait and rushed around the back.

  He’d hoped for an open window or door that might have allowed him access but found nothing. The back of the house was as quiet as the front.

  He glanced at a large linden tree which grew in the alley and wondered if he could scale it in order to reach one of the upper windows. Perhaps he could push it open, or even break the glass the get inside.

  Yes, he decided that was his only recourse. He was about to step on the narrow stone wall to grab a hold of a branch when the back door opened, and a young girl poked her head out.

  “Are you here for Lady Rowena?” Her voice was shaky, her hands shook as she wrapped her fingers around the door frame.

  “I am,” he replied and stepped closer toward the girl.

  “They brought her here yesterday evening, bundled up in the back of His Grace’s carriage. She’s unharmed, but they shan’t want to let her go without a fight. For that, I’m sure.”

  He rushed to the door. He towered over the girl who looked impossibly young and terrified.

  “Can you tell me where they are keeping her?”

  She glanced inside, the fear evident in her eyes. Then he saw a look of determination replacing it.

  “They were keeping her in the Duchess’s old chamber, but she’s been in the Duchess’s drawing room upstairs for the past hour. There are footmen guarding her.”

  “Upstairs, you said?”

  “Aye, if we rush through the parlor, we can take the servant’s stairs. But we must hurry. I am certain His Grace will be here very soon.”

  The mention of Thornmouth’s impeding arrival alarmed Christopher, and the sense of urgency which had been prominent within his chest intensified. Bracing himself for what was certain to be a vexing challenge, he followed the young girl inside the house.

  Chapter 32

  Rowena sat on the chaise by the fire as a maid lit the beeswax candles in the chandelier. She wasn’t Sabrine, but an older maid.

  “It is ever so gloomy,” the Duchess said, walking away from the window. Outside, dark, grey clouds had gathered, obscuring the sunlight. Even though it had to be early in the day still, it looked like dusk outside.

  The Duchess was about to take her seat once more opposite Rowena, where she had been for much of the past hour or so. While not as terrifying as being lock up in the dungeon upstairs, it had been equally as peculiar.

  It seems that rather than wishing to discuss the circumstances of Rowena’s current predicament, the Duchess only want to talk about the virtues of her son. His gift of public speaking, his close relationship with Prinny, his bright future, and incredible wealth. Evidently, her part in the plan was to convince her that ending the betrothal with Thornmouth was a grave mistake.

  The woman, it appeared, seemed to think that being kidnapped and forced to wed should make Rowena feel special, rather than terrified.

  This woman does indeed think her son is the very incarnation of righteousness and goodness. She cannot see fault in anything he does, it appears. Even kidnapping.

  “Do not fret, my dear. I have sent word to my son that you are rather displeased with your current circumstance, and I am sure he will be here shortly to address your concerns.”

  She smiled and sipped on her tea. Rowena had decided her best course of action as to simply nod and agree with whatever the woman said, and hope that an opportunity to attempt an escape would present itself once more. Alas, this may prove more difficult than before, as Sabrine, her only ally, had been banished to the servant area down below. Instead, two footmen were standing at the door, guarding her.

  She had resigned herself to having to bide her time, when one of the footmen stepped inside. He whispered something in the Duchess ear before leaving. Whatever he’d said caused the smile to disappear from her face.

  “Excuse me,” she said and stepped out into the hallway. Rowena followed and heard voices drifting up from down below. She went as close to the door as she dared without arousing suspicion from her guards when her heart leapt as one, loud voice called out her name.

  Christopher! He has come for me, at last!

  Her heart jumped with hope and she rushed to the window. Indeed, down below she saw the carriage she knew belonged to Christopher’s uncle. She peered as far down as she could before she spotted him at last. To her horror, she watched as he walked away from the front door, and stood in the road, peering up. She waved with all her might and was about to bang on the window when someone entered the room.

  It was the burly man who’d caught and carried her earlier. Behind him was the Duchess, her expression now filled with worry. Her mouth was pinched together into a thin line.

  “You are to go with Williams. He will escort you to your room until my son returns. He will take care of you. He is my son’s most trusted servant and valet,” the woman said.

  The dungeon? Her heart beat faster. No, she would not return to that room, not with Christopher so close and her rescue imminent.

  “No, Your Grace, please. I will remain here quietly until your son–”

  The man interrupted her. “You can come with me on your own accord, or I can drag you there myself. Whatever you prefer, My Lady.”

  He stood with his arms crossed and looked at her.

  Perhaps this is my chance. Perhaps if I walk quietly, I can break away and run downstairs and make it outside before the carriage leaves.

  She gave the man a weak nod. “I will come. No need to drag me.”

  She walked past him and stepped out into the hallway, followed by the Duchess.

  “It is what is best, my dear,” the old woman said.

  She set one foot in front of the other and braced herself as she approached the stairs.

  As she made her way down the hall, the burly guard remained close to her side. She would have to be quick, very quick, to gain an advantage. Her heart beat faster and faster as they came to the railing. She frowned, as before her were the stairs she should have taken earlier in her rush to escape.

  Without thinking, she broke into a run and made a sharp turn at the steps, jumping over several of them. She had made it almost one entire floor, as the front door was visible from the landing, when he caught up to her and grabbed her hard by the arm. She lost her footing and slid onto the floor.

  “No! No! Let go of me!” she yelped as he bent down to gather her up. She fought as hard as she could, got to her feet and attempted to make it another floor when she caught sight of someone below. Christopher!

  Chapter 33

  Christopher followed the young girl inside the house and was about to make his way to the servant staircase when the commotion broke out upstairs. He looked up and froze when his eyes met hers. Rowena. She was one floor above him. Her hair hung around her harried and scared face, flying around wildly as she ran. He saw, with horror, how the mountain of a man hovered above her.

  “Let me go, let me go!” Rowena’s voice hollered in desperation.

  “Rowena,” he called up the stairs. “I am coming for you!” He did not know how he was to defeat the man who was guarding her, nor the other servants who were certain to have been instructed to prevent her from leaving. It did not matter. In this moment, all that mattered was that he got to her. Once they were within proximity, they would find a way. They always did.

  Christopher raced passed a young girl and took the steps two at a time until he was on the second-floor landing.

&n
bsp; The man-mountain had lifted her to her feet and was holding onto her arm.

  “Let go of her at once. I, Christopher Newmont, Duke of Westmond, order you to let her go immediately or I will bring the entire Peerage down upon you and all you hold near and dear.”

  “You will give no orders, not in my house. Not to my servants.” The voice of an older woman came. A moment later, he saw her. She was an elderly, short woman, dressed in a sapphire-blue dress that was from a much earlier time period. It was set with a variety of diamonds, giving her a majestic appearance. The Dowager Duchess of Thornmouth, no doubt.

  “You will pay for this. You will pay for what you have done to Lady Rowena.”

  “That’s ‘Your Grace’ to you. I am the Mother of the Duke of Thornmouth, and I will be addressed by my proper title.”

  He stared at her for a moment and noted the resemblance. She even had the same, odd twitch in her mouth as her son.

  “Your Grace, then. You will pay for what you have done, regardless of your title and station. And so will your son. Now, let her go. Let her go at once and I will request that the punishment will be lighter than it otherwise will certainly be.”

  She tilted her head backwards and laughed.

  “I think not.” She then turned to somebody behind her. “Hector, Peter, take His Grace into our safekeeping. My son will be returning shortly, and he will decide what to do with him then.” Her gaze then fell to the young maid who’d followed him up. “Take her, too.”

  “Your Grace, please!” The girl’s voice was pitiful.

  “You need not beg for my forgiveness this time, Sabrine. You have betrayed me more than once this day and I will not forget it. Not after everything I’ve done for you. Take her back to her chamber. Lock the door.”

  Two young men stepped forward, looking from the maid to Christopher and back. The uncertainty on their faces was evident. They knew well that taking a Duke into their custody was not only boorish, it was unheard of, and might indeed bring grave charges against them in the future.

  Taking advantage of their hesitation, Christopher shook his head at them. “You must know what an unsavory man you work for. And evidently his Mother is much the same. However, you do not have to do this, men. Step away. Let me take my bride and leave. I will ensure no punishment will be bestowed upon any of you.”

  The two men hesitated and looked at one another. A pinch of hope instilled itself into Christopher’s body when–

  “Your bride!” A familiar, deep male voice came from behind him and Christopher rolled his eyes.

  Of course, he would show up right now. Christopher darted around to look into the face of none other than the Duke of Thornmouth himself.

  “You should be ashamed of yourself,” he spat at him at once. “Trying to force a young woman into marriage by kidnapping her? That is below even you.”

  “Is it now? I am simply trying to claim what I was promised. I am trying to save the woman I love from the spell you have placed upon her. I am trying to restore her to the lady I knew her to be. You have turned her beautiful head around and confused her. Damaged her. I intend to undo all of that. And when I am done, she will wed me gladly. And thank me for my patience.”

  “He has placed no spell on me, only helped me see. Helped me stand up for myself,” Rowena shouted. “It is you who has damaged me. You who kidnapped me and left me alone, locked in a windowless dungeon.”

  A look of genuine regret crossed his face. The glare on his face was replaced by a mild smile. He raised his hands as if asking forgiveness.

  “I am sorry for any inconvenience I have caused you and any suffering I may have instilled upon you. It was not my intention. However, over the past few days, you have misunderstood me and my intentions numerous times.” He shook his head. “I was only trying to do what is best for you, for me, and for your friend.” Suddenly, his expression changed from kind to furious once more as his head whipped around to look at Christopher.

  “If it weren’t for you, all would be well. Rowena and I would be wed without any of this upheaval. Elizabeth Carmichael would be at her position in Bedfordshire, learning her proper place. Servants belong with masters. That is how it has always been. We look after them, and in turn, we have their loyalty. You have interfered with that.”

  “I asked your help and you refused to give it. What kind of man does such a thing?” Rowena hissed.

  “Now, I will not have my son spoken to in such a manner,” the Duchess made her presence known.

  “Mother,” Thornmouth said impatiently. “Please, return to your chamber. You do not need to witness this. Peter, go with her and make sure she is safe.”

  The Duchess wanted to protest but Thornmouth’s glare stopped her. Without a further word, she left, accompanied by one relieved looking footman.

  “Now, old as my Mother may be, she is right. It is unseemly for you to address me in such a manner, Rowena. However, that will soon be remedied. I know you are well aware that a wife belongs to her husband and must do as he commands. A husband knows best. And if he,” he glared at Christopher, “had not interfered, you’d not have forgotten it.”

  “Rowena is not your property, nor mine. She has made her choice. We will take our leave now,” Christopher said as if declaring it made it a possibility. “And you had best let us pass. You must have an understanding just how much trouble you are in right now. Kidnapping? Even you misunderstand just how bad a thing you’ve done. However, if you let us go then all may yet be well.”

  “And Sabrine. We will take Sabrine as well. If you allow us a safe egress, perhaps you will not have charges levied against you,” Rowena said.

  To Christopher’s horror, the Duke broke into a deranged laughter and then waved at the burly man.

  “Williams, take the lot of them into your keeping. His Grace will remain with us until after Lady Rowena sees that she has lost her way and decided to follow on the righteous path again.”

  “I will never,” she vowed even though the tall man had just grabbed ahold of her and was about to hand her over to the footman, Hector.

  Thornmouth shook his head, “My dearest. All you need is a little bit of time. A couple of days spent with me and you will see that your Father’s intentions were right all along. We are perfect for one another and I will make you see it. Believe me.”

  The sincerity with which he spoke chilled Christopher. This was a man convinced he was right. It was not simply his desire to maintain his position, but he genuinely believed that Rowena was the right woman for him, no matter how much she might protest. He had made up his mind and he would make it so.

  “Williams, apprehend His Grace.”

  The large man stepped toward Christopher who stared him down.

  “You had best think twice, Williams. I am a Peer of the Realm and laying a hand upon me will have quite different circumstances that laying a hand upon a mere woman.”

  This slowed the man down as hesitation appeared on his face. He looked at Thornmouth, his face a question.

  Taking the opportunity, Christopher turned to Thornmouth.

  “I see you must employ the use of your servants to apprehend your rival. What is the matter, do you not have it in you to apprehend me yourself? You claim to be a man, yet you cannot or rather, dare not, take me on yourself? What a man Lady Rowena is to wed, what a man indeed,” he made sure his tone was a mocking as possible.

  He glanced at Rowena, hoping she had realized that he was attempting to bait Thornmouth into a one-on-one fight. Thornmouth, he could take. Perhaps if he managed to knock him out the servants would let them go. It was their best chance, but he needed Rowena’s help.

  To his great relief, he received it.

  “Indeed, Your Grace,” she said her voice almost sorrowful. “It does fill me with sadness to see you are a man of words, and not actions. For a man who fought so bravely at Waterloo, you now have to rely upon servants.” She shook her head and sighed before speaking again. “I suppose it matters little. How
ever long you apprehend Christopher, I will always love him. I will never willingly wed you. And even if you force me, he will always be the one who has my heart.”

  Her words touched his heart and evidently pierced Thornmouth’s at the same time. She watched as his face fell.

  He shook his head, his eyes filled with what appeared to be genuine sadness.

  “It pains me you feel this way,” he said and walked out of the room, leaving the rest of them to stand on the steps without knowing what to do. However, he did not remain gone for long.

  And when he returned, Christopher’s eyes widened. For their plan had worked. Indeed, it had worked a little too well.

  For in his hands, the Duke held two sabers. He extended one toward Christopher, who took it hesitantly.