The Duke That I Marry

by Cathy Maxwell

  Willa chewed on the thought a moment. “George hired men for you to catch Hardesty.”

  “He did for Grandfather as well.”

  “Have you met these men?”

  Matt drew a deep breath. “I’m wondering if I have. If Ross and Donel were the men he hired.”

  “So he blackmailed the old duke just for money?” Matt understood that sort of greed was beyond Willa’s understanding. Her father would have grasped it immediately.

  “Or to balance matters out,” he said. “Perhaps he felt he deserved Camberly. He did know about William. He told me so.”

  “My mother mentioned William last night. She was aware of his nature. Apparently, it wasn’t that big of a secret.”

  “Neither was my infatuation with Letty Bainhurst. However, the stationery used for the notes sent to both Letty and me was from a study in the Evanston house. George was there. He had the opportunity to arrange everything.”

  “Including telling Lady Evanston that you wished to see me when you were with Letty. I did notice George in the card room.”

  “I saw him as well. He appeared to be playing but perhaps he was watching.”

  “How would he know that I’d be angry and leave? Why would he wish to drive a wedge between us?”

  “I don’t know, but I will ask him when I see him.”

  “We must go to the magistrate.”

  “We can’t prove any of this, Willa. I could even be wrong and performing a terrible injustice to George. For that reason, I will handle the matter myself.”

  “Matt, no—”

  “It’s my family, Willa. My responsibility. The last thing the title needs is more of our personal affairs airing out in public.”

  “If George is a murderer, there is no way this will be kept quiet. Nor can you let him go. We’ll always be looking over our shoulders.”

  She was right.

  Matt stood. “Come here.”

  Willa looked uncertain. She came to her feet and walked over to him.

  Almost reverently, he bent down, seeking her lips. “I’m fortunate to be married to a wise woman,” he whispered, his mouth inches from hers.

  “I pray you never forget that statement,” she whispered back, and then he kissed her.

  He kissed her reverently, hopefully, passionately.

  Her arms came around his neck. She stood on her toes. He picked her up and carried her to the bed. His fingers began working her lacings. Her hands slid inside his jacket, pushing it down over his shoulders.

  Dear God, he wanted this. He’d had her warmth beside him in bed but it had taken all his willpower to give her the time she needed to heal.

  Matt lowered his arms, and his jacket slid to the floor. He pulled Willa down onto the bed beside him. He kissed her chin, her cheek, her nose, and her sweet ears before finding her mouth again. She laughed as if it tickled, and the sound made his heart grow fuller, the beat stronger.

  She loved him.

  He’d always thought true love was full of drama and turmoil. It wasn’t. Love was the sense that he was right where he was supposed to be. That at last, he’d found his home.

  They undressed in earnest now. Clothes were thrown, boots tugged off, ribbons unbound. He buried his hands in her hair, adoring the silky texture of her curls. He liked her hair. He’d tell her that . . . as soon as he finished letting her know how much he loved her . . .

  That was Matt’s last thought. They were between the cool cotton sheets. The mattress felt good and having Willa beside him felt even better. This was the best of married life and he couldn’t wait to be inside his wife.

  “Are you ready to count?” he teased, reminding her of her mother’s advice to count backward and it would all be done.

  Willa laughed against his lips, her breasts flattened against his chest, her hips fitting with his. With one hand, he cupped her buttocks to him. “One hundred,” he said.

  “Ninety-nine,” she answered.

  “Ninety-eight.” He nipped her shoulder and then found her mouth and swallowed her “Ninety-seven.”

  The tip of his shaft was right there. He pressed forward, sliding it between her legs, knowing how sensitive she was.

  She opened herself to him. “Ninety-six.”

  Matt looked down at her. “Willa, don’t ever be jealous again. You are the only woman I want.”

  Her response was to shift beneath him, positioning right where he wanted to be.

  “The only one,” she echoed.

  “Forever,” he promised.

  She smiled. No one had a smile like Willa’s. It lit his heart, until it turned slyly wicked.

  “So, are you going to ‘pork’ that lady, sir?” Her imitation of the Blue Boar’s strumpet was so spot-on, he couldn’t help but laugh. “Or are you just going to tease her until she goes mad?”

  His response was to thrust forward.

  This time there was no barrier. She was snug around him. He held himself, watching her. “Is it all right?”

  She wiggled her hips as if sampling the position and then ran her hand down his side. “It’s perfect. Is this it?”

  “This is only the beginning.” And it was.

  The very heat of her took hold of him. He began to move with purpose. Willa was as responsive as he had thought she would be. At first, he tried to hold back, but she wouldn’t let him. She moved with an urgency of her own—and then she cried out his name.

  His first reaction was that he’d harmed her.

  He started to pull out, but her arms wrapped around his. “No, Matt, no. Please, no.” She pressed herself against him. He pushed deeper, and her whimper wasn’t from pain, but pleasure.

  His little Willa was a noisy lover, and the sounds of her gasps and coos drove him into a fine madness. He could not do enough to please her.

  The tension between them built, fine-tuning itself until that moment when everything peaked.

  Deep muscles held him; her beautiful, supple body arched against him. Wave after wave of rippling roiled through her.

  And Matt came with her. Life flowed between them.

  When they were done and spent, she nestled her head against his chest and they fell into a peaceful sleep.

  Willa woke first.

  Her head rested on the same pillow as the one Matt was using. For a second, she breathed in the scent of him. His skin was warm beneath her palm.

  She loved him so much, she could not imagine the world without him. You are the only woman I want. His words were magic to her.

  His eyes opened. He rolled on his back and stretched. The mattress moved beneath her and she laughed.

  At the sound, Matt whipped his head in her direction. He smiled. “Good morning.”

  “Good evening,” she countered.

  He frowned as if remembering. “What time is it?”

  She shook her head.

  Matt sat up and put his feet over the side of the bed. He combed his hair before rising and walking over to the washbasin where there was a fob watch.

  “It is almost eight,” he said. “I need to eat.”

  Willa’s stomach rumbled her reply. He laughed and poured water into the basin. “I’m certain they are waiting supper for us,” he said. He picked up the dress Willa had been wearing and tossed it to her before washing.

  She ran a hand over her curls. She was glad she’d cut her hair. Sleeping had been easier, and considering how much moving around she and Matt had done when they made love, well, that was easier as well. She nudged Matt out of the way of the washbasin so she could see her hair in the glass.

  “I adore it,” she said. She looked at her husband. “What do you think?”

  “I think I adore you.”

  Willa grinned and began her toilette.

  Within the half hour, they were on their way downstairs to the dining room.

  Marshall met them at the foot of the stairs. “We are hungry,” Matt said to the butler.

  “Cook has kept supper warm. I shall order it be served.�
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  “Please tell her to keep it simple,” Matt said. “We will eat in the sitting room.” That was where they usually sipped their port and sherry.

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “Also, has my grandmother eaten?” Matt looked to Willa. “She wanted us to accompany her to a dinner party this evening, but I knew we would be exhausted. I told her we couldn’t.”

  “Thank you,” Willa said.

  “Yes, well, she may not be pleased with us.”

  “The dowager is not here, Your Grace. She did go to Sir Bernard’s affair.”

  “Did she go by herself?”

  “No, Your Grace. Mr. Addison went with her.”

  Matt went still. He looked to Willa, who shared his worry. “When should she return?” Willa asked.

  “She said it could be a late evening. She is fond of Sir Bernard and his wife. Also, Mr. Addison left this note for you.”

  The paper was the same one that had been used at the ball.

  The seal was unmarked. Matt broke it. He leaned toward Willa so that she could see the message as well: Meet me at Mayfield.

  There was no signature, but then one wasn’t needed.

  George knew Matt was onto his game.

  “We must go to the magistrate,” Willa said.

  The smile Matt gave her was cold. “If he does anything to her, I will break his neck.”

  Willa understood. “I don’t believe that is his plan. His actions are desperate. He knows it is over.”

  Matt frowned. “It is going to be over.”

  She took charge. “Marshall, saddle two horses immediately.” She started for the door. “I shall be down in two shakes, Your Grace. I must change into my riding habit.”

  “Willa, I want you to stay here—”

  She turned on him, holding up a hand to stop his words. “Have you learned nothing this day? You need me.”

  On those words, she dashed up the stairs to change into her smart military-styled habit.

  And to her relief, he waited for her to come down.

  Chapter 16

  Within the hour, they had eaten a light meal and were ready for the ride ahead. Matt had taken time to write several important letters and send servants to deliver them. One was to the magistrate in Essex. Another to the sheriff. Two more were to neighbors. Whatever George had planned, Matt was not going to let him escape justice.

  Furthermore, his wife was right. This was a legal matter. Witnesses were needed. He invited all parties to meet him with due haste at Mayfield.

  He and Willa set out.

  Matt found himself on a hired gelding. Willa rode the unruly mare, who was a jewel for her. Either that, or Willa sat a better seat than Matt did.

  Even though it was a half moon, they followed a main road and had little difficulty. They didn’t talk. They were riding too hard. Matt was grateful for Willa’s presence.

  He tried not to think about what could happen to his grandmother. He carried a loaded pistol in his pocket and a knife in his boot. God willing, he’d not have to use either.

  They reached Mayfield shortly before midnight. Once in sight of the house, Matt reined in.

  When he was in London, the country house had a small staff of locals who often went home for the evenings. The retainers, such as Marshall and Mrs. Snow and Cook, journeyed back and forth but spent the bulk of their time in the city.

  Right now, Mayfield looked deserted. Its brick walls reflected what little moonlight there was. No lights shone from the window. Not even a dog barked since the dogs would have been put up for the night down by the stables.

  “I want you to stay here and wait for the magistrate or anyone else who might come,” he instructed Willa.

  “Why don’t you wait as well?”

  “I have to go there.”

  “Matt, he might not be there.”

  “He’s there.” He started to ride away and then turned his horse around. He went back to his wife. Bringing his horse up alongside hers, he pulled Willa to him and kissed her long and hard on the mouth.

  “Take care,” she whispered when they were done.

  “I will. I have too much to live for.” He placed a gloved hand against the side of her face. It would be so tempting to wait. To be safe. And yet, it was up to him to bring George to heel.

  He also feared what would happen to Minerva if George thought Matt was not alone.

  “Wait,” he commanded Willa one last time.

  She nodded dutifully.

  He whirled his horse around and rode up the drive to his front door. He dismounted and tied his horse to a post by the front door. He walked to the door. It was slightly ajar.

  Matt pushed it open. The hinges didn’t even creak. He moved into the hall, and then stopped at the sight he saw in the front sitting room.

  In a patch of moonlight from the window Minerva sat bound and gagged in a chair. Her hair fell to her shoulders and she was pale and shaking.

  Taking out the pistol, Matt said quietly, “I’m here, Grandmother.”

  She nodded her head and tried to make sounds. Matt didn’t understand until he heard a footfall behind him and then the heaviness of George’s breathing.

  Matt dodged just in time to avoid being cleaved in two by the axe George was wielding. His hand holding the pistol hit the doorjamb. Matt lost control of the weapon. It went flying into the shadows.

  Meanwhile, George had fallen forward from the force of his swing, but he quickly regained his footing. He jumped at Matt, the axe high in his hands. In shadows and moonlight, with his hair going every which way, George appeared demented. He grinned. “Well, this appears to be it.”

  “What is ‘it,’ George?” Matt tried to keep his voice steady.

  “Everything. It is all lost now, Matt.” With a wild grunt, he lunged at Matt with the axe, swinging it with both hands.

  Matt jumped back. The axe just barely missed him. He thought of the knife in his boot. It was no match for an axe. He needed the pistol. He took a step in the direction he thought it had fallen.

  “George, you need to stop this. The magistrate is coming. It will be worse for you if anything happens to Minerva or me.”

  “The worst has already happened,” George answered. His shoulders sagged. He stood between Matt and the door. But it didn’t make any difference, Matt would not leave Minerva behind. “I won’t make it out of this,” George predicted.

  “No, you won’t,” Matt agreed. In the chair, Minerva was weeping.

  “You’ll not make it, either.”

  Matt was determined that he was going to be wrong about that. But he wanted to keep George talking. He wanted answers. “Because you want the title for your sons.” George had three of them. The oldest was James.

  “Am I that obvious?” George swung the axe viciously. Again, Matt managed to avoid the deadly blade, but it was becoming more difficult. George was pushing toward the corner of the room. “After all, I’m done. I’ll hang for my deeds, but my descendants will be Camberly.”

  “It didn’t start off that way, did it? In the beginning, all you wanted was the money.”

  “Because it could have been mine,” George answered. “My father and Henry were twins. It could have gone either way. And then I had to watch the old bastard squander what had been given to him. Henry chased every silly notion that crossed his head. I’d advise him not to do it. He never listened to me.”

  “Therefore, you took his money.”

  “You aren’t listening, Your Grace. It should have been mine.”

  “And the murders? Did you have a hand in William’s death?”

  “No. The silly sod killed himself. Always riding animals too spirited for him—” He swung the axe as if he believed he had lulled Matt into complacency.

  He hadn’t. However, the action did force Matt two more steps toward the corner.

  “What of Ross and that woman this morning?”

  George shot Matt a look of pure reproach. “What of Donel? Your hands aren’t clean,
Your Grace.” He pointed the axe at Matt in triumph. “You didn’t think I suspected what happened.”

  “I had little choice in the matter, cuz. It was him or me.”

  “The same with Ross. When I found out that he’d let you escape because he wanted to sell a horse . . . well, I lost my temper. I also knew it was over for me. You would reason it out.”

  “Why do you want to kill me?”

  “Because I must. You see, William and Henry’s deaths were unfortunate but natural. And then, there you were. Unsuited for the role of Camberly. You didn’t have an idea about anything. And I knew so much. I could have made this into a great estate.”

  “It would have been a great deal better off if you hadn’t robbed my grandfather blind.”

  “He could have refused to pay,” George said reasonably.

  “Then he would be exposing William.”

  George shrugged. “His choice.”

  “So you wish to kill me because I’m not a good duke?” Matt pressed.

  “No, I wanted to kill you because I realized, I could have it all.” George gifted him with another mighty swing of his axe. It hit a side table, destroying it, and pushed Matt farther into the corner. “And now James will have it. My precious son.”

  His voice had taken on a sing-song. He was obviously in a bad state. All Matt needed was a second’s inattention.

  “What is the plan?” Matt asked. “You kill me and then what happens to my grandmother?”

  “She dies as well. We all die, right here in this house. I’ll take my own life and pay for my sins. But first, I’ll set the house on fire. Mayfield will be burned to the ground. There will be mourning, especially from your lovely wife.” He sighed with regret. “But I won’t let you escape this time. There is too much at stake.”

  “Do you believe Willa won’t tell everyone how you tried to have us murdered in the river? What you have done might taint your son’s chance to inherit the title.”

  “Not legally. After all, he didn’t have a hand in my deeds. And people really aren’t all that interested in you, Matt. They will hear about the fire and everyone will believe it was an accident—”

  “Except me,” a female voice said.

  Willa stood in the door. Matt didn’t know how long she’d been there. He would give her a royal scolding for disobeying his order to wait for the officers of the law.