The Trouble with Saving a Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Emma Linfield

  Who is this man? Why can I not recall his name? It is still the amnesia? Obscuring parts of my memory still?

  “A lesson for what?” Seraphina’s voice was strong and demanding, not the voice of a woman cowering in fear. He admired her strength.

  “It is of no concern to you,” the man replied, his voice closer now.

  “It certainly is, for you kidnapped me and are holding me captive. I demand to know why. Why will you not tell me?”

  Her voice was full of frustration and a hint of the anger he’d so recently experienced himself.

  The man sighed. “The man you know is not who you think he is. The benevolent, kind man you believe you have gotten to know is quite the opposite. He is a ruiner. A ruiner of people, lives, and families. He ruined my life. It is his fault my son is dead. Now I shall do the same to him.”

  There were footsteps as the man paced the room and spoke once more.

  “He will learn his lesson. Kidnapping you was not in the plan, of course. The plan was always to take my vengeance by taking his life. As he took mine. However, he made it exceedingly difficult. I thought I had my chance when he lost his memory, but no. You came along. You saved him. Spirited him away.”

  “I do not believe a word you are saying. Ol…Lysander is not like that. He is kind.”

  The man chuckled and then, suddenly, snarled at her. “He is a nasty, terrible man with a heart of ice. Truthfully, killing him would have been too good for him. It was when I saw his affection for you that I knew what I must do. Not take his life. But yours. That will teach him.”

  She gasped at this and he had to stop himself from doing the same. His hand gripped the board tighter while beside him Liam grabbed his wrist to stop him from charging inside. Liam shook his head and instead inched forward, closer to the wall which separated them from Seraphina and her captor.

  “If this is what you have planned, then why have you held me captive for so long? Why not do me in, if that is the plan? Why keep me here in this forsaken place?” Seraphina’s voice carried a hint of fear now, but it was masked by defiance. There was no reply from the man, which seemed to embolden the young woman. “It is because you are no murderer. You have never killed anyone, have you? Only dreamed of it. And now you are faced with having to do it, you can’t.”

  Lysander took in a rush of air.

  I hope her bold manner does not turn out to be reckless, for he might well take it badly.

  When the man spoke again, it was with resignation in his voice.

  “You are right. I am no killer. My worst sin has been gambling. But believe me, I will do it.” He paused. “Unless there is a better way. Perhaps, instead, I ought to just maim you.” Lysander’s blood ran cold as he could hear the joy in the man’s voice. “That way, he can look upon your ruined face day after day and know that it was his doing. His actions that cost you your beauty. Maybe your misery will be his punishment.”

  Another chuckle sounded out from the other room as the man warmed to the idea.

  “Liam, we must stop him, at once!” Lysander kept his voice quiet, but resolute. Liam nodded. “We must charge him. Alas, we do not know if he is armed.”

  Lysander’s heart beat out of his chest and he gave his cousin a nod. “I will find out.” He crouched down as low as he could and crawled forward. When he got to the edge, where the door had once been, he peeked inside.

  His heart beat faster when he locked eyes with Seraphina. Her bright eyes opened wide as she noticed him. He spotted the man in the far corner, turned away from him, a large knife in his hand. He turned and for a moment, his face was visible in the sunlight. Lysander pulled back, whispering his findings to Liam.

  “It is Dawson. Lucas Dawson. One of my farmers. He abandoned his farm months ago and vanished. I do not know where to, nor why he is after me. We never exchanged an unpleasant word.”

  Liam frowned and then his face brightened, and he leaned closer.

  “He did not leave the farm. Harry sent him away. I questioned him about it myself.”

  “What? That makes no sense. Dawson always pays. He gambles, yes. He falls behind. But he always pays. I thought he simply had decided to take his family and go this time, having perhaps gambled away too much. Harry would never—”

  The sound of his voice had risen as he’d defended his brother, loud enough to alert Dawson to their presence.

  “Who is there?” the man called out and hurried footsteps came their way. Then, suddenly, the man shrieked, followed by a crash.

  “Excalibur, now!” Seraphina shouted and Lysander felt himself dart up and into the room. Startled, Liam followed several paces behind him. Seraphina was on her back, the chair toppled over. As it turns out, so was Dawson, who lay sprawling flat on his face.

  “You witch!” he cursed.

  The man was on the ground, his knife inches from his outstretched hand. He grabbed for it just as Lysander and Liam were about to charge him and turned over. Stabbing with the knife, Dawson caught Lysander’s hand as he screamed out in pain, his skin cut open.

  “Oliver!” Seraphina called out. The sound of her voice invoked in him the strength he needed to push away the pain. It reminded him of all they had built together. He rose and rushed forward just as Liam kicked the knife out of Dawson’s hand. Lysander charged the man and tackled him onto the floor.

  “Quickly, Liam, a rope!”

  “I haven’t got rope,” Liam replied, his voice haggard after the struggle.

  “My hands,” Seraphina called. “He tied my hands. Use that rope.” The cousins exchanged a glance and Liam got up, undoing Seraphina’s restraints.

  “You! At last I am face to face with you!” Dawson called out. “You ruined me. Took everything and now you will have me thrown in the gaol!”

  “I took nothing from you, you madman. And in the gaol you belong for what you did.”

  “You took my farm from under me. Sent my whole family out into the night in the dead of winter! My boy froze to death because of you! My wife left me.” Dawson spat on the floor in front of him, though Lysander knew what he really wanted was to spit in his face.

  “I have done no such thing. You are indeed mad,” Lysander hissed. In the back of his mind, Liam’s words, his claim about Harry still lingered. There had to be an explanation. In any case, why would Dawson blame him, if it was Harry who sent him away? If indeed he had. It made no sense. He moved aside so Liam could place the restraints on the man.

  “Can you attend to him?” Lysander asked. As soon as Liam nodded, he jumped up and rushed to Seraphina.

  “My Darling, my Dove, are you hurt?” He cupped her face while looking her up and down. Her dress was torn and dirty, and her hair in disarray, but she appeared unharmed.

  “I am not. He did not hurt me. Not yet. Although he surely was planning to. Who is he? What does he want? He makes no sense at all.”

  Lysander tore his gaze from her and looked at the short, stout man who was being led outside by his cousin.

  “I do not know. It vexes me. I have never done anything to him.” He shook his head. “Let us return to the Castle. Your Father and Sisters are quite out of their mind with worry.”

  The moment she attempted to walk, her ankle gave in and she gasped with pain, holding on to him.

  “Allow me,” he said and scooped her up into his arms.

  With Seraphina safe in his arms, he followed Liam outside, where clouds had gathered, painting the landscape with a melancholy, sad light.

  Chapter 36

  Lysander lifted her up onto his horse, Everton, one of her Father’s most trusted geldings. He swung himself behind her and she leaned back, exhaling, now that she was again safely near him. He wrapped his arms around her to grab a hold of the reins and then followed Liam.

  “My Lady, it is good to meet you. I hope in future we will continue our acquaintances in more pleasant circumstances.” The young man had a northern accent she recognized at once.

  “As do I. Are you a Yorkshire m
an?”

  He grinned at her, exposing a row of white, but crooked teeth.

  “Through and through, My Lady.”

  She nodded, feeling comforted by Lysander’s steady breathing behind her.

  “I love York. My Father’s Sister lives there.”

  “Horlock Castle is but a stone’s throw from York. Perhaps, if fate wills it, you may call on my wife and I one of these days. Perhaps soon.” He winked at Lysander. Even though she could not see his face, she knew he was smiling. She could feel it and hear it in his reply.

  “I am sure it can be arranged.”

  Seraphina felt the camaraderie between them. They were clearly close. Then her eyes fell once more to the man on the back of the horse. His head was hanging down over the horse’s flank, his legs on the other side. He looked rather like a sack of potatoes.

  “Would you have cut my face if I was not saved?” she called out to the man. He lifted his head.

  “Certainly. Then perhaps you might have seen his true face, for he might have turned on you as he did me.”

  “I did not,” Lysander said, exasperation evident in his voice.

  “Not personally, no. Had your henchman do it for you.”

  He looked toward Lysander as best he could from his precarious position.

  Seraphina shuddered. She’d been in the man’s keep for almost twenty-four hours, although for much of it she’d been alone. He’d dragged her away and thrown her onto a horse, in a similar fashion he now found himself in. Then he’d left her alone in the monastery, on the cold and wet ground until this morning. He’d then tied her to the chair and left her there, evidently trying to work up the courage to kill or maim her.

  “I have done nothing to you. I do not understand your actions. Why do you hate me so?” Lysander’s voice rose, exasperated.

  “You put me out of my farm because I couldn’t pay,” the man hissed.

  Lysander huffed at the statement and she felt him shake his head. “I would never. I have never. I—”

  “Just ask your brother.” Dawson added.

  “Harry?” Lysander’s voice was full of shock and surprise.

  “Indeed, he speaks for you, does he not? Is he not in charge of the farms? Is he not your right-hand man? Put me out of house and home. And Patterson.”

  Lysander swallowed, muttering the name Patterson. She turned and saw the expression of confusion on his face.

  “Perhaps we ought to speak on the matter later,” Liam said as the three trotted down onto a narrow path which led directly to the Castle.

  “Why, now not convenient for you?” Dawson continued to gripe. “The truth uncomfortable for you, Your Grace? Well, imagine how uncomfortable my wife was, having to spend the night in an abandoned shed the night your brother put us out. Did I tell you it was winter?”

  Behind her, she felt Lysander take a deep breath. “I told you, I did not send Harry to put you out. I was told you abandoned your farm.”

  “Lysander,” Liam Keswick spoke quietly, calmly. “There was a notation in the estate books that Mr. Dawson was evicted for non-payment, due to gambling debts. Along with Mr. Patterson. And almost Mrs. Sheridan.”

  “Mrs. Sheridan?” Lysander’s voice was full of sorrow. “Her husband died in Waterloo. I would never—”

  “Perhaps you ought to pay better attention to your affairs instead of handing them off to your brother. In any case. I blame you, even if it was done in your name. You are the Duke. It is your responsibility. Because of you, my wife, my children…they are gone.”

  Lysander’s heavy breathing alerted her to the fact that he was taking the man’s words to heart, and badly so. Rage rose inside of her and she twisted her head to address the man.

  “And what of you? What of your responsibilities? Do not put it all on others. It was you who gambled all your money away. You who put your family at risk. You’ve got nobody to blame but yourself!”

  Dawson raised his head and glared at her.

  “I ought to have killed you when I had the chance, you wretched brat! I shall get my hands on you yet you little—”

  “That is enough!” Liam Keswick thundered. “I will have no more of this.” He spurred the horse into a gallop, putting some distance between Dawson and Seraphina.

  “He is right. They are my responsibility, the tenants,” his voice was so full of sorrow and sadness, she could not take it.

  “Nobody made him gamble his money away,” she said in a soothing tone.

  “Not Dawson. I mean the others. Patterson, he is a sweet old man. Harry told me he gave up the farm to go live with his daughter. I believed him. Now it seems that was not true either. I know he too had trouble paying at times, but he always caught up. And Mrs. Sheridan? She has children, elderly parents. I would never, ever put them out. Even if they bring misfortune upon themselves, like Dawson. He had a wife and children; I never would have put them in harm’s way. I cannot believe my brother—”

  His voice trailed off and he grew silent. Seraphina had no words that would have comforted him and thus did the only thing she could think of. She wrapped her hands around his as he held onto the reins and held on tight. Then she turned back and kissed his chin as they rode on, burying her head in his chest.

  A few minutes later, they rode along the path leading back to the Castle and soon enough, Serafina could make out her sister Cynthia. She was with a small group of maids, searching the gardens. She was just disappearing behind a bush when Seraphina called out to her. At the sound of her voice, Cynthia’s head popped back up and she gasped, clasping her hands in front of her mouth before breaking into a run.

  Lysander helped Seraphina down and stood back as she took a cautious step forward. She opened her arms wide and a moment later, her sister fell into her embrace.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Liam returning with the now-silent Dawson.

  “Seraphina! You are well? Where have you been? What has happened to you? Faith, we were ever so worried about you. Papa is out of his mind with…” she stopped and took notice of the man flung over the back of Liam’s horse.

  “Is he the one who took you?” Her voice was harsh and harder than Serafina had ever heard.

  “The very same,” Liam said with a nod.

  “Very well.” Cynthia stalked over to the man on the horse and slapped him right across the face, eliciting a yelp. “That is for taking my Sister.” She slapped him once more. “And that is for worrying the entire family, you rogue. You will pay for this. And this…” she pulled her arm back once more to slap him again. Seraphina quickly wrapped her hand around her sister’s wrist.

  “I am fine, Cynthia. All is well,” she said calmly, alarmed at the rage in her sister’s face. She was always so kind and gentle, seeing her slapping the man made Seraphina feel all the worse.

  Cynthia spun around. “Come to the house with me. We must tell Mother and Mary that you are well. And Papa. I will have a scout sent out to find Papa.”

  She pulled on Seraphina’s arm to prompt her to walk, but the moment she took a proper step on her foot she gasped. Pain shot up her leg and she stumbled.

  “I cannot walk, Cynthia. My ankle.”

  Before she could say anymore, she found herself scooped up into Lysander’s arms.

  “Do not fret, I will carry you to the Castle, if Lady Cynthia can take the reins.”

  With a nod, Cynthia did as she was asked, walking between Lysander and his cousin, close enough to the man on the horse to be able to glare at him the entire way back to the Castle.

  Chapter 37

  Harry sat in the carriage and refused to look outside. Keeping his gaze fixed on the carriage seat, he crossed his arm. He despised being on the Duke of Oxshire’s property. There was no place on earth that he hated visiting more than here.

  Beside him, his mother peeked out of the window, taking in the grand castle. He had to admit, seeing it had made his stomach turn. It was much larger and much more beautiful than he’d imagined, making him despi
se the Camdens even more.

  “Look at it. Vallant Castle. I have not seen it since I was a mere girl. How lovely it is,” his mother’s voice had a dreamy tone to it. Then, suddenly, it changed. “This is our home. We ought to be living here, not in Gloucester. They stole it from us, Harry.”

  Harry shook his head. “Indeed, it is ours. It ought to be. But you know as well as I that Lysander would gladly give up all claim to it, and the lands, if it meant making peace with these people.”

  “He will never,” his mother spat. “Not while I am here to prevent it. Mark my words. Your Brother will never give this property up. Certainly not after seeing it.”