A Rake's Redemption

by G. L. Snodgrass

  Scruggs didn’t hesitate, pointing immediately to Lawrence. The footman streaked down the drive. He could reach the village faster than taking the time to saddle a horse.

  The butler turned and yelled something into the house. Almost immediately a dozen people poured through the front door to assist.

  “Careful,” Rebecca said as they lowered the man onto a board for ease of transport. Throughout the entire maneuver, her hand never left the bandage covering Tomas’ wounded shoulder.

  Her hands and both arms were covered in the man’s blood. A red streak marred her forehead where she had absentmindedly pushed her hair up out of the way.

  But even now, she didn’t look disheveled. She looked competent and in charge. His heart swelled thinking of her.

  “Your Grace,” the butler said up to him, “are you all right?”

  Devlin shook his head to clear the image of Rebecca underneath him in his bed earlier that morning.

  “Yes, fine,” he said as he jumped down to follow everyone into the house.

  “Miss Jones,” Isobel yelled as she raced across the room. Rebecca held out an arm to grasp the girl and stop her from running into Tomas.

  “Isobel,” she said as she gave the girl a quick hug. He watched as her eyes closed and soaked in the little girl’s joy at seeing her. Even then, her hand never left Tomas’ wound.

  “Tomas is hurt,” she said to Isobel. “Go get Mrs. Owens.”

  Isobel’s eyes grew as she shot glances back and forth to her governess, then the coachman resting on the board. At last, the magnitude of what was happening seeped into the girl’s awareness, and she firmly nodded her head before darting off to the kitchen.

  The men started towards the parlor, but Rebecca stopped them.

  “No, the green room,” she said. “It has better light, the doctor might need that.”

  The men shifted and started for the Duchess’ green room. Miss Jones walking beside them. Keeping that bandage in place.

  “Your Grace,” Scruggs asked. “What happened?”

  “A highwayman,” he answered. “What of Michaels, the girls. Is everything all right?”

  “Yes Your Grace,” the butler answered. “Michaels is in his room. The fire damaged your suite of rooms sir. I have you set up in the room across the hall. We were able to salvage most things. Everything, but a small table, the drapes, and a carpet.”

  Devlin’s brow narrowed in confusion. “I thought it was a bigger fire. How did Michaels become injured?”

  Scruggs shook his head. Obviously not pleased. “The fool tried to put the fire out himself, Your Grace. Lawrence smelled smoke, and alerted everyone, or there is no telling what might have happened.

  Devlin nodded his head and continued to the parlor.

  “Send someone to the village, have them find Lord Warwick and tell him I want to see him immediately.”

  “He’s here, Your Grace, has been since the fire.”

  “Did I hear someone ask for me?” a loud voice asked as Lord Warwick stepped through the front door. “I was out at the stables. Your Grace, have you been injured?”

  Lord Warwick’s eyes focused on the Duke’s arms.

  Devlin looked down at himself. He too was covered in Tomas’ blood. The events of the day finally hit him. The night in Rebecca’s arms. Their discovery by Lincoln. That intolerable carriage ride. The attack by the highwayman, and that climb to the carriage roof. All of it came rushing back onto him. But worst of all had been the look in Rebecca’s eyes when they passed the farmhouse.

  He needed a minute, if he was going to deal with these problems

  “No,” Devlin said. “Give me a minute. Let me go get changed. I will meet you at Michael’s room. Say, thirty minutes.”

  Lord Warwick studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Of course, Your Grace.”

  “And Scruggs,” Devlin said as he left the room, “have Miss Jones meet us there. Mrs. Owens can relieve her.”

  “Actually, Your Grace, Mr. Michaels is well enough to come downstairs. It is his hands that were injured. May I suggest the parlor?”

  The butler was probably concerned for Mr. Michaels’ sense of propriety. The idea of a woman coming into his room might very well send him to shock.

  “All right, do it,” the Duke answered.

  Devlin knew that he sounded dictatorial. But maybe that was what this situation needed. If he was right, he might very well be able to figure out who was behind all of this.

  What is more, it was going to stop, and it was going to stop right now.

  .o0o.

  The basin ran red as she scrubbed her hands and arms. Her heart went out to Tomas, she had refused to leave until the doctor got there. Despite the Duke’s orders. He could wait, Tomas couldn’t.

  Her mind wandered to the memory of Devlin climbing out of the coach. She’d been terrified that he might fall. The image of a wheel crushing him would not leave her.

  She paused for a moment as she tried to push it aside.

  “Are you sure you are all right? Miss Jones,” Johanna asked with a concerned expression.

  The girls had refused to leave her alone while she made herself presentable. Even now, the three of them sat on her bed and waited for her to change behind the screen.

  “I am fine, Johanna, I promise,” she said with as much confidence as she could muster. But, I won’t be in the future, she wanted to say. Not when I have to leave you three.

  “I knew as soon as you heard about the fire you would return immediately,” Elizabeth said. “Both you and His Grace.”

  “Of course,” Rebecca said. “You girls are the most important thing in the Duke’s world. He will do anything to protect you.”

  It was true, she realized. Her rake would move heaven and earth to protect these three girls.

  “And you too,” Isobel said.

  “Isobel,” Johanna exclaimed.

  “Well, it’s true,” the little girl said. “We were talking about it, remember? You said that he looked at Miss Jones as if she were a hidden treasure. I remember. And Elizabeth …”

  “Isobel, that is enough,” Johanna said as she shot her sister a look of death.

  Rebecca hid behind the screen lest the girls see the tear coursing down her cheek.

  “I am sorry, Miss Jones,” Johanna said after a moment. “Isobel didn’t understand.”

  Rebecca quickly wiped her eyes and stepped out from behind the screen. She wanted to laugh. Isobel looked as if she was going to burst. But Elizabeth held her arm behind her back. Rebecca was positive that more than a little pressure was being applied.

  “That is perfectly all right, Johanna. His Grace cares about everyone here at Pine Crest. You should have seen how he risked his life to save Tomas. You should be very proud of your cousin.

  Isobel squeaked, but decided to keep quiet. Obviously, Elizabeth had a very tight grip.

  “Now,” Rebecca said, “I must join them downstairs. You girls go see if Mrs. Owens need any help. She was pulled away from her duties to care for Tomas. I am sure His Grace would like his evening meals served at the regular hour. Go see if you can help. I heard Lawrence mention something about raspberry tarts needing to be tried.”

  The girls sprang from the bed, and rushed to the door. Each of them vying to be the first to the kitchen. The Duke’s hidden treasure already forgotten.

  When she got to the parlor, the five men were waiting for her. Devlin looked regal and commanding in his black cutaway jacket, and polished boots. Lord Warwick smiled at her welcomingly.

  What would he think? she wondered, if he knew she had been discovered in the Duke’s bed earlier that very morning.

  Scruggs stood to the side, at attention. Mr. Michaels sat in a large stuffed chair by the fire. His arm in a sling, his right hand wrapped in white bandages. He looked nervous, as if uncomfortable sitting while the Duke stood.

  James stood next to Mr. Michaels. He had changed into new livery, but there was a sternness about his eyes. James wa
s angry, and he wanted revenge. Tomas was a good friend. She pitied the poor soul who had done this if James ever got ahold of them.

  “You wished to see me? Your Grace,” she asked as she curtsied.

  Looking up she saw something flash behind his eyes. A hint of a wolf that had sighted its prey. A warm shiver passed through her. She knew what he wanted. And every part of her wanted to give it to him.

  Rising out of the curtsey, she folded her hands in front of her and waited. He wasn’t going to get what he wanted. And neither was she.

  Instead, she would help him deal with this crises. Then she would leave forever. It was the only solution.

  “Yes, Miss Jones,” the Duke said. “I wanted you here because we are the only people I am sure were not involved with this. Besides Tomas of course.”

  She nodded. There were several others she was sure were not involved, but the Duke didn’t consider the women of Pine Crest a threat.

  That was all right, it was expected of men. They were always oblivious of the thing right in front of them.

  “Very well,” the Duke said. “On the road, what did you see James?”

  The footman hesitated for a moment as he recalled the memory.

  “The first I noticed an issue was when Tomas started to pull back on the reins. It took me a moment to see the man on the road.”

  “What did he look like?” Lord Warwick interjected.

  James shook his head. “I don’t know, My Lord. His face was covered with a gray scarf. It matched his gray coat. He rode a big bay horse. A normal sized man. I want to say he wasn’t young. But, I don’t know.”

  “That is what I saw,” the Duke said. “I saw him riding off into the forest. Leaning over his horse’s neck.”

  “He was pointing a pistol at the coach,” James continued. “Tomas brought up his scatter gun and fired. I don’t know if the highwayman was hit, but he fired back. I heard the thunk as the bullet struck Tomas. He fell to the side. I was preparing to jump down and help him. But the horses bolted, and I was thrown from the carriage. I am sorry Your Grace,” the footman said with an embarrassed expression.

  “That is perfectly all right, James,” the Duke said. “Thankfully, you weren’t hurt.”

  “I too saw the man ducking into the woods. I fired at him, but believe I missed. I did stop for a minute to reload. I was worried there might be more of them.”

  James continued, “I started running to catch the coach. I saw Your Grace crawl out and up onto the top of the carriage. I didn’t see the man again or any others.”

  A silence settled over the group as they thought about what the footman had said.

  “I say, Hampton,” Lord Warwick said. “Climbing up onto the box after the horses bolted. Remarkable. You are to be commended.”

  The Duke ignored his remarks and turned to Michaels.

  “Now then, your story. What can you tell me about the fire?”

  Rebecca watched as Mr. Michaels pulled himself together. It was obvious how much he despised being the center of attention. Her heart went out to him. He was a valet. A man who preferred to be behind the scenes.

  “I am also sorry, Your Grace. I didn’t see anything.” He gave a resigned shrug of his shoulders. “I was going to your rooms sir, when I smelled smoke. Not a lot, just enough to raise my interest.”

  “I entered and saw the fire. On the far side of your bed, Your Grace,” the valet said. “The window was open. It had drawn most of the smoke and pulled the fire to the drapes.”

  Here, he hesitated again. “I tried to stop it. I pulled the drapes down. But the fire was too intense. Thankfully, Lawrence came. Then, Mr. Scruggs and the rest. They put the fire out.”

  “Pulling the drapes down stopped the fire from spreading, Your Grace,” Scruggs said.

  Michaels’ shoulders squared a little at the praise. Rebecca smiled to herself, praise from Scruggs was rare and therefore so much more valuable.

  Her heart squeezed tight. She was going to miss these people. All of them. She had become close to them. They were as close to a family as she would ever know.

  Sighing, she looked away so that no one would see her distress.

  “Why were you going to His Grace’s rooms?” Lord Warwick asked. “It was late, after dinner. Surely your work for the day was complete.”

  Michaels frowned, “I wasn’t going for work, My Lord. I was going to retrieve the former Duke’s journal.”

  Rebecca watched as Devlin’s eyes grew big as he turned back to the valet. “The journals were destroyed in the first fire. I am sure I informed you,” he said.

  “Yes, Your Grace. But this was a different one. It was the journal he was using on a daily basis. The ones I gave you were all complete. I had just learned about it and was going to retrieve it. I thought you might want to see it when you returned.”

  “How did you learn of its existence?” Lord Warwick asked as he bent slightly forward as if afraid of missing any word or sound.

  Michaels hesitated for a moment. Obviously intimidated by the Lord’s intense glare.

  “At dinner,” Scruggs interjected.

  Everyone turned to him.

  “At dinner, Mr. Michaels was lamenting the fact that the previous Duke’s Journals had been destroyed. It was then that Patricia mentioned that not all of them had been lost.”

  “Who’s Patricia?” Warwick demanded.

  “The upstairs maid,” the Duke responded absently. “She is Mrs. Owens’ cousin. Mrs. Pearlman thinks highly of her.

  Rebecca’s heart swelled. He knew the name of the maids. How many rich and powerful men didn’t even know their servants’ names, let alone where they were from.

  The love she felt for him only grew. And with it, her sadness of what she must leave behind.

  “She informed Mr. Michaels,” Scruggs continued. “That the previous Duke had told her that when cleaning his room, if she ever came across his journals, to place them in the drawer of the table next to his bed.”

  “She remembered doing just that, the morning the previous Duke had gone riding. What is more, the book was still there. She had seen it recently. His Grace had left out a book about medicinal plants …”

  Rebecca shot Devlin a glance. Had he really read Johanna’s book?

  “… Patricia placed the book in the drawer and noticed that the journal was there,” Scruggs finished.

  The room grew quiet as they watched the Duke, waiting for him.

  The Duke stood still and looked off into the distance. As if lost in thought. Trying to recall some long lost memory.

  “Who was at this meal?” he asked Scruggs.

  The butler frowned, as if he didn’t understand the questions. “Everyone, Your Grace,” he said. “I often gather the entire household staff, the stable and gardeners, along with your personal assistants, Mr. Simmons, Mr. Thomas, and if Miss Jones had been here, she would have been invited.

  Rebecca nodded, it was common for Scruggs to gather everyone so that they could discuss schedules. Otherwise, Mrs. Owens might be counting on the help of a stable hand with cleaning a chimney on the same day Mr. Crawly planned on using them to help the farrier.

  “Everyone heard about the journal?” the Duke asked.

  “Yes, Your Grace,” the butler answered as his brow narrowed in confusion. What could be so important about this journal?

  “And the table that was destroyed. I assume it was the one with the journal,” the Duke asked.

  Scruggs looked over to Mr. Michaels. The valet slowly nodded his head.

  The Duke sighed and shook his head as his lips set into a tight line. “James, your pistol if I might,” he said as he held out a hand for the weapon.

  James looked around at the other members of the meeting, but then, lifted his livery jacket and removed his pistol from the waist of his pants.

  The Duke examined it, turning it to ensure it was properly primed.

  “The rest of you stay here. Warwick, you may come if you want.”

&
nbsp; The realization of what was happening struck Rebecca like a wall of cold water. Devlin believed he had discovered the culprit and was going to confront him.

  “Devlin, no!” she exclaimed before she could stop herself.

  She heard Scruggs gasp from behind her. Both Michaels and James looked at her as if she had just laughed in church. Lord Warwick tried to hide a secret smile.

  She didn’t care what they thought. She must stop Devlin before he did something rash.

  “Miss Jones,” he said with a stern expression. Then, his eyes softened. “Rebecca,” he continued, “it will be perfectly all right. I will be back shortly.”

  “No,” she said. Her hands on her hips. “If you are going to do what I think you are, then I am coming.” She gave him her best governess stare. The one she used on the girls when they refused to listen. “Besides,” she continued, “you may very well need me if someone is hurt.”

  “No one is going to get hurt,” he said.

  “Then why do you need that?” she said, pointing at the pistol in his hand.

  “To make sure no one is hurt,” he replied succinctly. Turning, he started out of the room.

  Rebecca’s heart jumped to her throat. He really was going to do this. She felt lost and afraid. What would she do if anything happened to him?

  He didn’t say she couldn’t come, she realized. Not specifically.

  Pulling her hem from the floor, she hurried to catch up with the two men.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The gravel crunched under Devlin’s boots as he marched down the path.

  His heart pounded, and his mind whirled. Why? Why had the man acted that way? What had he ever done to him?

  Squaring his shoulders, he increased his pace. The sooner he got there, the sooner he would know.

  Three small cottages nestled together next to the road. Halfway between the Duke’s residence and the village. They were for staff and employees.

  Halting before the green wooden door of the middle cottage. Devlin pounded on it, the pistol held down at his side.

  “Peterson!” he demanded.

  “Come in, Your Grace, it is open,” a voice said from inside the small house.