The Redemption of a Rogue: The Duke’s By-Blows Book 4

by Michaels, Jess

  “I see,” Imogen said with a shiver, and leaned into Oscar’s hand when he placed it on the small of her back gently.

  “In the past few weeks,” Barber continued, “Roddenbury has been putting out feelers, looking for a specific young lady. He wants it known he only wishes to talk to her, that she won’t be in any danger.”

  Imogen’s lips parted. “Me.”

  “Yes,” Willowby said. “You see, when the Duchess of Roseford reached out on Aurora’s behalf to look for her friend—you, Mrs. Huxley—we knew it had to be connected to this case and the disappearance and deaths of several young women. When we linked our information with Mr. Barber’s…well, it became clear Roddenbury has been looking for you.”

  “We can use this,” Diana said gently. “Both his desire to find you and his lie that he won’t hurt you. By using you, we can draw him out and get the final evidence we need against him.”

  Oscar stepped forward, placing her behind him like he could shield her from the suggestion. “You want her as bait.”

  Willowby’s eyebrows lifted. “An indelicate way to put it…but not invalid. If I could hear Roddenbury admit that he was trafficking in young women, my testimony would be enough to move the case forward.”

  “Because you’re a bloody duke,” Oscar growled.

  Willowby looked at him impassively. “You don’t like that the titles give us power. I don’t love it either. But I am trying to use it for the betterment of those I can protect.”

  “Including the young woman in my case who was taken,” Barber said. “We believe she’s still alive. We think we can save her if we can interrogate some of the players in Roddenbury’s scheme. Once he’s taken care of, underlings like the woman running this brothel, Maggie, will likely be more willing to discuss what they know. Especially if some leniency is put on the table for them in trade for the truth.”

  Imogen swallowed hard. She’d been taking all this information in as they spoke. And it terrified her. The whole idea of facing off with Roddenbury, of putting herself in a room with him where her friends would surely be too far away to protect her, even if they were listening…it was horrifying.

  But she could see it was the only way. Not just for her, but for all the women who had been injured or killed by the man they sought to stop. To those who could still be saved. Those who hadn’t yet encountered him but would be his next victims. How could she say no to the opportunity to do all that?

  “I’ll do it,” she said softly.

  She expected a reaction to that statement, especially from Oscar. What she didn’t expect was how he pivoted toward her with a look on his face unlike anything she’d ever seen before. All the control he had always mastered over his reactions, his actions, his emotions, was gone in that moment. What was left was fear on her behalf, desperation and something even more potent than all of that. Something she almost couldn’t believe was real.

  “No!” he cried out. “You cannot mean that.”

  “Oscar—” she began.

  He caught her upper arms and tugged her closer, his wild expression burning down into hers.

  “No,” he repeated. “I love you, don’t you see that?” Her ears began to ring and she opened her mouth and shut it in pure shock. “I love you and cannot bear the thought of you endangering yourself like that.”

  * * *

  Oscar was aware of the others in the room slowly backing out, of Willowby closing the door behind them all and leaving him alone with Imogen. But he never looked away from her and neither did she. She stared up at him, amber eyes wide with shock and, he thought, disbelief. Not that he could blame her. He had been insisting he would never say this to her for so long she didn’t believe it. He’d earned it.

  This wasn’t how he had intended to tell her he loved her. He hadn’t exactly worked out how he did mean to do it. But not like this, as an argument against her helping anyone but herself.

  All he knew was that his long night looking into the darkest depths of his soul had only proven two things: that he needed this woman like he needed breath. And that he would regret letting her go if he were so foolish as to do so. And when he had been able to feel that, as powerfully as he felt his love for her…

  It was like someone had set him free.

  “Last night,” she whispered, her voice cracking with both words.

  He shook his head. “I know. I know what I said, what I did. But last night I was panicking. I was exactly the coward you so astutely accused me of being. But then again, I should have expected you might call me out on the truth because you’re patently incapable of lying.”

  He smiled as he said it, and her breath caught, just as it had every time she’d seen that expression on his face. That was why he did it, because his smile belonged to her. She had inspired more of it in less than a month than he’d probably allowed himself to show in the last ten years.

  “Imogen,” he whispered as he caught her hand and drew her closer to him. “I love you. That terrifies me because love has rarely ended well for me. But when I look at you, I can’t deny it any longer. I can’t lose you. Please don’t accept this plan—you would be in such danger.”

  She placed each hand on his chest and leaned into him, lifting her face, brushing his lips with hers. He wrapped his arms around her, drowning in her, surrendering fully, loving her with all his heart. He was rewarded with such joy, such pleasure, such warmth he had never felt.

  She pulled away at last, gazing up into his face. “I love you, too,” she said.

  His breath shuddered out. If he’d thought the pleasure of loving her was amazing, this was even better. He’d hoped, he’d prayed into the night, offering trades of everything he had if she might feel even a fraction of what he did. And here they were. She asked for nothing, but offered everything.

  She sighed softly and reached up to cup his cheek. “I love you,” she repeated. “And that is why I need to fix this. Because if I don’t, we can’t have a real future together. You’ll have to give up too much, I’ll have to give up too much. We’ll start with suffering, not joy, and I don’t want any more of that than either of us has already experienced in our lives.”

  He pulled away a fraction and ran a hand through his hair. “Imogen…I hear what you’re saying. But surely there must be another way than to throw yourself into the path of an evil villain.”

  She nodded. “There might be. Perhaps in six months or a year or ten years we could find a way to manage Roddenbury that doesn’t involve a direct confrontation to end it all. But that isn’t what I want. I want to start my next chapter with you tomorrow, not when it’s too late to enjoy it.”

  He frowned, thinking of his mother and Will. They could have had a lifetime of love if she’d allowed it. Instead it had been diverted, put off. That wasn’t sad, exactly…but it had been avoidable.

  He set his jaw. “I worry.”

  “But you’ll be there,” she whispered. “We’ll demand it. Because we’re doing this together. I trust you. And you…you trust me, don’t you?”

  “I do,” he insisted.

  “This is the only way. The best way to not only save me, but anyone else in this man’s path. The only way I’ll be able to sleep at night knowing I tried all I could to stop him.” She took his hands and lifted one to her lips, kissing it gently. “Will you be at my side?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  She smiled. “Then let’s call in the others and make the next step to the rest of our lives.”

  She moved as if to go to the door, but he held her steady. He cupped her cheeks, looking down into her eyes and memorizing every beautiful line of her face. He brushed his lips to hers, gently, carefully, before he fully claimed her mouth once more. She lifted into him, opening to him, merging them together until they were one being, one heart.

  When he pulled away, he didn’t feel excited by this decision. But he also had faith that they could survive it. They had to. There was no longer another choice. He just hoped neither of them would
come to regret whatever happened next.

  Chapter 24

  Imogen paced her small parlor back at her home, straightening items on the table, as if somehow that could bring order to her fluttering heart. She hadn’t been in her house for weeks and it felt like a foreign land. Even more so because her own servants had not been brought back from the paid holidays Oscar had bankrolled weeks ago.

  Instead, her staff was replaced by agents, some of the same ones who had staffed the safe house. Even in this moment, Molly, the maid who had helped Imogen the last two days, was smiling at her.

  “You needn’t worry, Mrs. Huxley,” she soothed. “The others are positioned all over the house. The Duke and Duchess, as well as Mr. Fitzhugh, can hear us through the holes we drilled for just that purpose. And Mr. Huntington and Mr. Barber are at the ready in the yard. They’ll take positions near the windows, ready to come in if there’s trouble.”

  “Yes, and I know you are armed.” Imogen forced a shaky smile as Molly patted the holster hidden in her boot for easy access. “And so is Tidwell.”

  “I am, Mrs. Huxley,” the butler called out from the hall. “But I see a carriage coming into your drive, so you must ready yourself.”

  Molly nodded toward her and then stepped from the room, leaving Imogen to pace across the floor and peek out the window. She watched as Roddenbury exited the carriage. And at his side was Maggie, the woman who ran the Cat’s Companion.

  Imogen’s heart leapt. No one had expected her to be here.

  “Roddenbury has Maggie Monroe with him,” she said so the others could hear.

  “Steady, love,” Oscar’s voice was muffled through the wall, but it soothed her. “Steady.”

  Tidwell came to the door and met her eyes, his stare kind but firm. “The Earl of Roddenbury, Mrs. Huxley, and Miss Maggie Monroe.”

  “I will see them,” Imogen said, wishing she didn’t sound so breathless. Not that it mattered. Roddenbury would expect her to be nervous, afraid. She had to guess he’d love it.

  The earl entered the room, followed by Maggie, and glared at the butler. “That will be all.”

  As Tidwell stepped out, Roddenbury shut the door and looked across the room toward Imogen. “G-Good afternoon, my lord,” she stammered. “And Miss Monroe, I wasn’t expecting you.”

  Maggie flashed a smile. “I bet you weren’t. Little Miss Snit. But lookin’ ’round this place, I don’t think you have such a reason to be so high and mighty.”

  “Hush, Maggie,” Roddenbury said, never taking his eyes off Imogen. He smiled at her, but it didn’t put her at ease. “You are a hard woman to find, Imogen.”

  She flinched at his use of her first name. “I-I was afraid,” she admitted. At least that didn’t have to be a lie. “After what I…what I saw, I was afraid of you both and what you would do.”

  Roddenbury moved into the room and took a seat on her settee without asking her leave. He waved Maggie to the sideboard, and she obediently walked there and began preparing a cup of tea for him. Imogen edged to the seat across from his, but he shook his head. “No, no. Why don’t you come sit next to me? We’re friends, aren’t we? Wouldn’t you rather have me as a friend?”

  Imogen swallowed, but went to the settee beside him. Oscar had to be going mad in the other room, watching all this through the peephole. But what could she do? She needed Roddenbury’s trust. “I would very much rather have you as a friend,” she said. “I haven’t liked being enemies.”

  “Neither have I,” he cooed as he set a hand on her knee. Through her dress, she felt his fingers burn. “So let us talk about how we could repair our relationship and do good for each other.”

  “Yes,” she gasped out.

  “You saw me, with that poor girl’s dead body,” he said.

  She stiffened. This was what the Willowbys needed, after all. Only admitting he was with a dead body wasn’t the same as admitting he had been the cause of her death.

  “I saw you with her, yes,” she said. “And I heard Maggie say that you had k-killed her.”

  Roddenbury’s eyes darted to Maggie, and she bent her head, her fear palpable, as she brought him his tea. “I see. So you believe I killed her.”

  “Didn’t you?” Imogen pressed.

  He arched a brow. “Why don’t we talk about something else?” he suggested.

  Her heart skipped. If he didn’t admit he had murdered that poor woman, it was going to make everything so much harder. “But—”

  “How can we resolve this so that no one else has to be…hurt?” he insisted, and the hand on her knee grew tighter. His fingers pressed into her skin, and she tried to pull away, but he kept her where she was.

  “I-I don’t know. I ran because I was frightened, like I said. But now I don’t have anywhere to go.”

  Roddenbury’s eyes lit up. “Does that mean Oscar Fitzhugh has grown tired of you?”

  She tensed. “You guaranteed that when you had his club shot to pieces. He blamed me. Kicked me out of his bed and his house.”

  Roddenbury smiled. “Then the plan worked.”

  “How—how did you know about him?”

  “I guessed after he threatened me.” Roddenbury shook his head. “I thought he’d be harder to get rid of, after the look in his eyes when he stepped up to me. He was your knight gallant, I thought.”

  “Not so very gallant. He gave up quickly enough when I caused him trouble. But I heard you were looking for me. That you wanted to talk. So what can I do to get myself out of this?”

  “Your situation is dire,” Roddenbury said. “But you were at the Cat’s Companion looking for a protector. Plus you let Fitzhugh bed you for weeks in trade for what he could provide. It’s clear you are willing to offer your body, if need be. Miss Monroe and I have a…business of sorts where we offer women to those who want their company.”

  “Something like the brothel, you mean,” she said.

  He shook his head. “No, on a more permanent basis. I could take you to where we keep the women during the transition. And then you’ll be sent someplace where you can live out your days in…comfort.”

  Maggie snorted at that, and in an instant, Roddenbury was on his feet. He backhanded her so hard she careened to the floor, her bottom bouncing across the carpet as she stared up at him in utter terror.

  Imogen lurched from the settee and stepped away from him, her heart throbbing at the violence. “No,” she whispered. “I don’t want to go with you. I don’t want the life you’re describing. You are a monster. That cannot be the only way out.”

  “It’s not,” Roddenbury sneered, and he moved toward her, trapping her against the wall. He put a hand out and traced her cheek with his fingers. “I could kill you like I killed that screaming bitch at the Cat’s Companion. Or like I’ve killed plenty of others. That’s the other way out, Imogen. So what do you prefer? Because one way I can do right now and I will enjoy it immensely.”

  He smiled, something ugly and terrifying. A threat, but before he could go further, the door floor open and Oscar, the Willowbys, Huntington, Barber and the agents burst into the room, guns drawn.

  “That’s enough, Roddenbury,” Willowby said. “You are under arrest by edict of the Crown. Unhand that woman and come with us.”

  Roddenbury looked at him, his expression stunned. He had truly not anticipated this turn of events. Imogen might have enjoyed that realization more had he not grabbed her, thrown her in front of himself like a shield and pressed a pistol into her side.

  * * *

  Oscar couldn’t breathe as Roddenbury’s gun jabbed into Imogen’s side. If he fired, she would die. There was nothing else to it.

  “You can’t escape,” Willowby said, remarkably calm. But then again, it wasn’t the love of his life with a gun in her side.

  “It’s over,” Diana added. “Just let the woman go. It might inspire mercy in the judges you’ll face for your crimes.”

  “Mercy?” Roddenbury said with a laugh. “Mercy is for the weak. No, what I’m go
ing to do is walk out of this room with Mrs. Huxley as my leverage. And you’re going to let me go because if you do I might…I might not kill her before I leave this country.” He looked past the Willowbys at Oscar. “That’s what is going to happen, isn’t it, Fitzhugh?”

  Oscar knew what he was demanding. Diana and Willowby couldn’t allow for an escape. They were here to protect the Crown and they might trade that for Imogen’s life. But he had a different purpose. Crown be damned, he wasn’t going to let her die in front of him.

  “You—you promise you’ll release her?” he choked.

  Roddenbury smiled. “The chance of me cutting her down in front of you is one hundred percent. It’s much lower if I’m allowed to depart this house.”

  Oscar had pulled his gun the moment they’d heard Roddenbury’s admission in the other room, and now he slowly trained it off of the earl and onto Willowby. “Let him go.”

  Diana’s eyes went wide as she looked at him. “No, Fitzhugh. This isn’t the way. If he takes her to another location, the chance of her dying is much higher. And he’ll escape anyway.”

  “Please don’t do this,” Imogen whispered.

  He shook his head. “I have to.”

  Her eyes filled with tears that ripped him apart. Willowby lowered his pistol slowly, as did Diana, and let out a curse as he said, “Then go.”

  Roddenbury smiled and urged Imogen forward. As she passed him, Oscar locked eyes with her, praying she would understand the message he was sending. Praying she would take it with her until they could be together and safe again. Her eyes went wide, and he thought she did know.

  They were almost past him when Oscar shot out a leg and hit Roddenbury squarely in the knee. The earl yelped in surprise and tipped forward on all fours. Imogen dove to the side as the Willowbys raised their weapons toward Roddenbury. He growled in anger and pivoted the gun in his hand on Oscar.