Wild Passions of a Mischievous Duchess

by Violet Hamers

  “I still won’t go to Hadminster without you,” she said, a cheeky glint in her eye when she pulled away.

  He was about to reply when Dorothy reappeared. Elizabeth pushed back from him, putting a modest foot and a half of air between them, though the flush of her cheeks was damning evidence enough.

  Dorothy cast him a glance so severe that a servant would not normally get away with it, had she not practically raised him from childhood. Gerard grinned and stood up.

  “I’ll say goodnight then,” he said, bowing politely to them. “Ladies.”

  “Goodnight, Your Grace,” Dorothy said as he turned to leave.

  * * *

  Elizabeth ran her hands over the stitching on her bedspread, averting her eyes from Dorothy. She’d noticed Dorothy’s sharp glance at Gerard, and wanted to laugh.

  “You know, I was halfway down the corridor when it occurred to me that it may have been foolish to leave the two of you alone. Have you been doing what you oughtn’t?” Dorothy asked, pulling her chair up to the desk where she’d placed the tea tray.

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Elizabeth said, but she couldn’t keep her lips from turning up in the corners.

  Dorothy rolled her eyes. “I knew him as a lad, you know. Troublesome child, he was. If he carries on much longer without making you a proper offer, I may need to make my concerns known to the Duchess. She, at least, is still in a position to give him an earful.”

  Elizabeth poured herself a cup of steaming chamomile tea, the sweet floral scent washing over her and helping to calm her racing heartbeat. “He has made me a proper offer,” she said coolly, stirring a touch of cream into her cup.

  “Really, when?” Dorothy asked, her voice raising in pitch.

  “Just now. Though, he had implied that he was meaning to ask days ago. Do I really seem foolish enough to allow a gentleman to carry on making love to me without an offer of marriage?” She took a sip, remembering that she had, in fact, allowed just that.

  Dorothy looked at her kindly. The lines of her face were exaggerated in the dim light, making her appear more motherly than ever. “You aren’t foolish, love. Merely inexperienced. Were it not the Duke, I would have stronger opinions on your love affair. Had I not known him his whole life to be a mild and gentle person. How did you answer? I believe I can tell by the redness of your lips, but I’d like to hear it said outright.”

  “I accepted him,” Elizabeth said.

  Dorothy smiled and reached across to squeeze her hand. “I hate to lose you, Elizabeth. It’s been a joy to have you at Stonehill. But I’m happy for you. I should have known that some gentleman was sure to scoop you up.” With this, she reached up to pinch Elizabeth’s cheek.

  “It’s strange,” Elizabeth said softly. “I was so certain that I would never marry. I don’t know how everything has changed so quickly. When I am by myself, I wonder if I am being a fool, throwing away the life I’ve known for a gentleman. But when he’s with me…I don’t know. It’s as though I can’t even imagine any other life than to be by his side.”

  Dorothy patted her knee. “You’re in love, sweetheart. That’s what it’s like.”

  Elizabeth crinkled her nose. “I wish he were not a Duke.”

  Dorothy laughed, the hearty sound of it ringing through the small room. “You’re the first woman to say so.”

  Dorothy’s friendly excitement over her engagement carried on until they climbed into their respective beds and the lights were extinguished. In the darkness, Elizabeth tossed and turned, imagining Hadminster, and trying to form a picture of what her life would look like when she became a Duchess. The unknown frightened her. Her life as a governess had been small and ordinary and entirely predictable. And now? Worry seized her, but then she brought to mind Gerard, his eyes, and the soft touch of his fingers.

  I’ve faced greater and more frightening unknowns than this. And this time, I won’t be alone.

  * * *

  As the days went by, Elizabeth heard no news about the poisoner. The detective was by the manor nearly every day, but every day he said the same things. He was doing his best. They were looking into everyone who was at the ball. No new leads had been uncovered.

  Gerard was growing impatient. She watched him carefully, and could see a look of resignation gradually setting in to his eyes. Of course, she remembered, that he had lived this before. Only the last time his fiancée had not survived.

  Each day she wondered if he would finally ask her to leave for Hadminster again. This time, with him along as well. He confided in her that he felt guilty about taking up residence at Stonehill, casting a pall over the happy home.

  She continually urged him to stay a bit longer. Any day could bring a break in the case, after all.

  Their imminent marriage felt like a fresh start for her. A new life opening up like a bright, unblemished landscape before her. More than anything, she wanted him to feel the same way. And that would be much more likely if he did not have to carry over the burden of this mystery into their marriage.

  As time went by, Elizabeth’s constant state of being watched and guarded slackened. She had begun Lord Limingrose’s lessons again, and while Dorothy was still sleeping in her room with her at night, she no longer had a guard by her side every moment of the day.

  One morning, it was threatening rain and Lord Limingrose had gone to visit his aunt with his mother and father. Elizabeth had been left behind and was chancing a walk in the garden before the oncoming storm broke. She gazed up at the whirling clouds above as the wind picked up. For a moment, she could forget the mystery of the poisoning, and her worries about her new life. For a moment, she was at peace, surrounded by nature and with her mind filled with thoughts of her beloved.

  As heavy raindrops began to fall, she took shelter under a large, leafy tree. Thunder rumbled overhead with such force that the ground shook. Elizabeth found herself smiling, her hand leaning against the rough bark of the tree trunk as the sky shattered. Exhilaration coursed through her as she watched the deluge.

  Suddenly, something was slipped around her neck. Elizabeth gasped, her exhilaration turning to terror as she clawed at her neck. There was somebody behind her. Someone she had neither seen nor heard, in her excitement about the storm. She struggled against this unknown attacker, but her own slight weight did not seem enough to topple them as she tried to pitch forward.

  The garrote around her neck was thick and smooth. Some part of her mind registered that it was silk. A scarf or shawl of some kind. A stocking? Pinpricks of light danced like stars before her eyes as her garbled, panicked mind tried to grasp onto a way out.

  She tried to scream, but the only noise that got out was a bubbling, strange sort of groan. Even if she had been able to cry out, the sound would have been drowned out by the storm that raged overhead. Lightning flashed as she clawed more desperately at the strangling silk. She felt her own nails dig into her skin, but she could not manage to work her fingers underneath the silk.

  She felt herself growing weak and soon she was on her knees, the damp grass soaking through her gown.

  This is it. This is how I will die.

  Thunder roared above her. Or was that the pounding of her own blood in her ears?

  Memories like still paintings flashed through her mind. The packed beds of the orphanage. Her first day of teaching.

  Gerard. Gerard.

  Could he recover from a second fiancée murdered? How would he heal, now?

  Poor Gerard, I’m so sorry.

  The world seemed to fall away from her as everything went dark and silent.

  Chapter Twenty

  Elizabeth woke to searing pain, like ice picks driven into her skull. She gasped, oxygen rushing to her starved brain. She cried out, her voice hoarse and strained as she curled onto her side, gripping her head with two hands. Her clothes were wet and she was trembling violently as she took more gulping breaths, despite the sharp pains they brought.

  It was the worst headache she
had ever experienced and for a while she could do nothing but lay there on the cold, damp ground, groaning. Somewhere deep in her mind warning bells were ringing. The person who had strangled her could be nearby still, watching her, realizing that she was not dead yet. They could reappear any moment to finish the job.

  She wanted to get up and run, but the best she could do was roll onto her knees and lift up her head. It was still raining. She couldn’t have been unconscious for long. Her hair ran into her eyes and she tried to get to her feet. She crawled to the tree trunk and used it to steady herself as she stood.

  She could see no trace of her assailant, other than the flurry of footprints and crushed leaves beneath her. She had to get back to the house. Looking at the manor now, the garden had never looked so vast.

  She tried to run. Her feet carried her a few steps before she slipped in the wet grass. Stumbling, she was carried on by rush and the fear that the attacker was just behind her.

  When she got inside the door, she flung herself towards the bannister and clung to it to hold herself up as she yelled.

  “Gerard!” Her voice was still hoarse, but she pushed it to yell as loudly as she could. “Gerard!”

  The house had never felt so quiet and empty. Where was everyone? She started to climb the stairs, relieved when she heard a door open and a man’s familiar footsteps coming towards her. She called out again.

  “Elizabeth?” she heard him before she saw him, but soon he was flying down the stairs to meet her, catching her in his arms as she collapsed.

  “What the devil has happened to you?” he asked in a panic, his hands brushing traces of mud from her cheek. His fingertips brushed her sore neck and when they came away there was blood on them from where she had clawed at her own throat. “You’re bleeding. Who did this to you?”

  The fear and relief to be safe in his arms overcame her and Elizabeth struggled to find the words to explain what had happened. She shook her head, sobbing. “I don’t know. I was in the garden and suddenly—” remembering the moments leading up to the attack brought a fresh wave of terror over her and her words dissolved into sobs as she buried her face in his chest.

  “We must get you out of here. Come.” He was all action now, his voice steady and resolute. He gathered her into his arms, helping her to her feet. “We will go to Detective Collins’ house straight away.”

  He felt so solid, lifting her to her feet and holding her close. Fear still gripped her, but as he ushered her out the front door and called the coachman, she felt her wits returning to her bit by bit. She remembered his promise to protect her.

  Once in the carriage, Gerard produced a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at her neck. “It looks as if an animal has been clawing at you,” he said, his voice low as if he were speaking to himself.

  “No. That was me. Those are my fingernail marks…” She lifted her hands, gazing blankly at the blood under her nails. “Someone was strangling me with a cloth. I was trying to pull it off.”

  He looked up at her, his dark eyes full of horror and, she thought, a touch of admiration. “Christ, help us,” he whispered.

  “I should have been with you. Where was Dorothy? Why were you alone?” His hand rested on her cheek, his thumb brushing over her skin as he kissed her forehead.

  “She is a busy woman, it isn’t her fault. I wanted to walk by myself. I didn’t think…” Elizabeth touched her throat. It ached as though she’d been screaming for hours. “Poisoning and strangulation are two very different things. I thought, as long as I wasn’t eating or drinking any mysterious refreshments…I never thought for a moment that something like this would happen.”

  “Did you see who did it?” he asked earnestly.

  Elizabeth shook her head. “No, he came up from behind me. I never saw a thing. The storm was so loud, I didn’t even hear him approach.” Tears made her vision swim again and Gerard ceased his questioning, bundling her in his arms and holding her as she nuzzled desperately into his shirt.

  “You’re freezing,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “Detective Collins will have a fire going. We will get you cleaned up and dried off and get to the bottom of this.”

  Elizabeth nodded, letting his assurances comfort her as she squeezed her eyes shut against his chest. He clung to her tightly, gently rocking her back and forth. Exhaustion crept in as her excitement began to wear off. She leaned heavily against him, resting her head on his shoulder now with her face turned in towards his neck. She focused on the scent of his skin, familiar and yet enticingly foreign.

  “I thought I was going to die,” she whispered.

  His arms around her tightened. “Oh, Elizabeth. This is all my fault. You are in danger because of me. I should never have fallen for you and put you in this position. It seems that any woman I love is destined to suffer.”

  “Don’t say that,” she said. “Don’t leave me, please.”

  She felt him rest his head on top of hers. “I can’t. I won’t.”

  Detective Collins lived in a narrow townhouse on a busy street in the heart of the city. Elizabeth might have been embarrassed at her disheveled state were the circumstances different, as Gerard helped her out of the carriage. As soon as the door of the detective’s house was open, they were ushered in with haste by Detective Collins himself.

  “Heavens above, what has happened? Come in, sit. Sit. Miss Peaton, here, near the fire.” He pulled up a chair to the fireplace where a blaze was crackling away. Elizabeth, still in a daze, sat down and held out her hands towards the flames. She stared at the blood under her fingernails as Gerard filled in the detective.

  “So, you see why we came straight here. Whoever did it is still at Stonehill, presumably. I had to get her away and I didn’t know where else to take her.” Gerard had been steered to a nearby couch, but as he sat down he had angled his body towards her. If she reached out, she would still be able to touch his shoulder.

  “Of course, yes. I’m happy you brought her here. How strange. How very peculiar. This is certainly a change in the pattern. Strangulation, heavens. That’s quite an escalation from poisoning. Much more…visceral.” Detective Collins was visibly flustered as he glanced sideways at her.

  Elizabeth knew that she must look a state. Her clothes and hair were wet and there was blood, but she must have looked truly frightening, the way the detective kept watching her.

  “Miss Peaton, you look as though you may faint,” Detective Collins said.

  “Oh,” Elizabeth said, swaying slightly. “I’m all right, now. Just terribly tired.”

  “You’ve had a shock. It’s no wonder you are exhausted.” The detective stood up. “I can take you to a different room, if you like. You can take off your wet things and lay down.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened as sudden panic gripped her. “Oh please. I know it’s silly. But I don’t want to be alone.”

  “It’s not silly,” Gerard’s voice was gentle. “I don’t imagine that the detective has dry women’s clothes on hand, but you can take off your wet gown and wrap yourself up in blankets and come back here. You can lay down on the couch. We won’t leave you.”

  Detective Collins nodded and Elizabeth allowed herself to be taken away into a small bedroom. It was there that she first saw her reflection in a glass above the basin. All of the color had drained from her face save for the ugly bruised streak around her neck and two flushed points on her cheeks. Her hair was loose and tangled at the nape of her neck. She turned away from the stranger in the mirror to peel off her outer layer and train her hair into a simple braid.

  She stripped the bed of its cover and wrapped the blanket around her chemise and loosened stays. Thus, covered as modestly as possible under the circumstances, she brought her wet things back to the parlor where the gentlemen were speaking in hushed tones.

  Detective Collins took her gown and laid it over the back of the chair next to the fire while Gerard welcomed her onto the couch. Exhausted, she laid down and almost immediately was drifting
off into a deep, uncomfortable sleep.

  * * *

  “Have there been any visitors to Stonehill this morning?” Detective Collins asked in a half whisper. Elizabeth seemed to be already asleep, her face tucked in to the blanket she had wrapped tightly around her.

  “Not today, with everyone but myself out for the day. But there are constantly people coming and going. My sister is friends with half of London.”

  “So, only staff and yourself there during the attack.”

  “That I’m aware of, yes. Though it happened outdoors. Anyone could have been lurking in the garden.”

  “And you didn’t check the garden before you left?”

  Gerard bristled. “I didn’t think to. In my haste to get Miss Peaton to safety, I didn’t hesitate.”