Duchess Beware (Secrets & Scandals Book 2)

by Tiffany Green

  He shook his head, still confounded by her confession. “Absolutely not. Silver managed to destroy our marriage all on her own.” He drank more of his brandy, his mood darkening at the memory of her in Victor’s arms.

  She raised her brows. “And, pray, how did she accomplish that fantastic feat?”

  “Grandmother, this is not the proper sort of conversation we should be having.” Surely, her sense of propriety would bring a quick end to their tête-à-tête.

  He thought wrong.

  She pursed her lips. “Daniel, exactly what is it you think Silver has done?”

  He studied her for several seconds, then sighed. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He straightened his shoulders. “I found out that Silver is sharing her bed with other men.”

  Her hand fluttered to her throat. “You caught her doing this?”

  “Er, no. I didn’t see it first-hand.”

  Sliding her eyes shut for a moment, she popped them open and gave him a hard glare. “Then how are you convinced it is the truth?”

  He told her of Jeremy barging into the room earlier and of the rakehell’s behavior, convinced that would be enough to satisfy her.

  Instead, she grew even angrier. “That is your proof? Good heavens, Daniel, if Lord Fielding were bedding every woman he treated as he did your wife earlier, I daresay he’d be bedding every woman he ever met.” Her cheeks turned pink. “Including me.”

  She did have a point, he thought as the throbbing ache intensified behind his eyes. But dammit, he did have proof. After setting his drink on the desk, he pressed two fingers to each temple and began again. “Before Silver’s debut, when all of you were still at Huntington, I returned from London unexpectedly.” From his coat pocket he retrieved the note he’d found on the path and slid it to his grandmother. “After coming across this, I saw my wife in the arms of her ex-fiancé, Victor Merrick, locked in a passionate kiss.”

  His grandmother lifted the thick, ivory paper and read the words. Her eyes widened and shot to his. “My God,” she choked out. “It was planned.”

  Daniel clenched his jaw and nodded. “Precisely, madam.”

  She shook her head. “No, no, Daniel. What I’m saying is this note was a farce.”

  “A farce?” His heart jerked hard against his ribs. “How can you—?”

  “Victor Merrick attacked Silver with a knife and would have killed her if her brother hadn’t come to her rescue. Where on earth do you think Connor is right now? He’s out searching for that terrible man even as we speak.” She drew her brows together, her eyes shining in disapproval. “You would know all of this if you had allowed Mr. Somersby the chance to tell you when he came to London looking for you.”

  Unable to speak past the lump lodged in his throat, Daniel shook his head. He remembered Garrett trying to tell him something important about Silver. He hadn’t listened. “Dear God in heaven,” he said, coming out of his stupor. His wife hadn’t been meeting with a lover after all, rather she’d been attacked and nearly killed. And he could have stopped it. With a trembling hand, he reached for the brandy snifter and drained the contents in a single gulp.

  “Was she hurt?” he asked quietly, fighting the remorse strangling him.

  Something twisted painfully inside his chest when Gran nodded. “Yes and after losing a goodly amount of blood, her arm was stitched.” She paused and cocked a brow. “Silver was lucky that no fever set in. She was able to make her debut on time.”

  The debut. Eaten up with guilt, Daniel set the empty snifter on the desk and shot to his feet. “I must go to her and sort this out.” He hurried to the door and nearly ran into Prudence.

  Giving him a disgruntled look, she stormed past. “Anne, I cannot find Silver. Have you seen her?”

  He whirled around. “You cannot find Silver?”

  Prudence gave an audible sniff before turning her attention back to his grandmother. “I have looked everywhere and cannot locate her.”

  Spinning on his heel, Daniel marched from the room and called to his butler.

  The man appeared within seconds. “Yes, Your Grace?”

  “I want my wife found, and I want her found now.” He barely refrained from roaring the words.

  “Right away, Your Grace,” Jenkins replied with a bow.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  In the outrageously luxurious captain’s quarters aboard the pirate ship, Enigma, Connor sipped his warm ale slowly, watching the captain digest his words.

  “And you’ve found the man who harmed your sister, this Victor Merrick?” Jack asked after several minutes of silence.

  Connor’s hand tightened around the pewter mug as he recalled what that bastard had done to Silver. “I ken aboot where the man is, aye.”

  “What do you need from me?” the captain asked softly.

  Pushing away the memory of his sister’s attack, he removed his hand from the now dented mug and focused back on the man seated opposite him. Even though the captain appeared calm, fury glittered in those dark eyes. Connor relaxed. Jack would help him.

  “I need your help capturin’ the bastard.”

  Jack lowered the wine glass from his lips and nodded, his face already displaying the concentration of devising a plan. After taking another sip of his wine, the captain asked, “What will you do with this man once we’ve captured him?”

  Connor swallowed his ale then shrugged his shoulders. “Kill him, I suppose. Torture him first, though,” he added as an afterthought, liking that idea very much.

  The captain leaned back in his leather chair and steepled his long fingers together. “That would be unwise, I am afraid.”

  “What? Och, Captain ye canna be serious.”

  “Connor,” the captain stated softly, “you are my first mate as well as my friend. Mark me carefully.”

  With a sigh, he held his tongue. The captain had better have a damn good plan.

  “From what you’ve told me, this Victor Merrick is a wealthy man. If he is found to have been murdered—torture will give that impression, I’m afraid—then an investigation will be conducted.” Jack leaned forward. “How long do you think it will take before the authorities start pointing their fingers at you?”

  He frowned. He hadn’t thought of that.

  “However,” Jack continued, “a murder is much harder to prove if a body is not found.”

  Starting to see the reasoning behind the captain’s words, Connor asked, “What dae ye have in mind?”

  A grin the lasses damned near swooned over spread across Jack’s lips. “The Mary Alice sails within a sennight.”

  “The slave ship?”

  “Press gang,” Jack corrected.

  “Close enough.” Connor’s lips twitched, nearly spreading into a smile.

  “Now,” the captain said, turning serious, “I want you to cease searching for this man. Just give me the location of the last place he was hiding, and I’ll send some men.”

  Connor’s almost smile disappeared. “Capt—”

  “No unnecessary risks, Connor. Now, tell me about the man your sister married.”

  He sighed, yielding to the captain. He trusted the man. The job would get done. Recalling the request, he glanced up and shrugged his shoulders. “Since you’re the son of an earl, ye might know him. His name is Daniel Claiborne.”

  Watching the captain choke on his wine in surprise almost made Connor laugh. Not very often could Jack be caught off guard.

  “The bloody Duke of Huntington?” Jack wheezed between fits of coughing.

  Connor kept his expression neutral. “Aye, that’s him.” He was actually having a bit of fun.

  Setting his glass aside, the captain cleared his throat several times before looking up. “Your sister is the Duchess of Huntington?”

  “Aye.”

  Just as Jack started to say something further, he clamped his mouth closed, looked up for a moment, then smiled. “Well, this certainly will be interesting.”

  That confused Connor. “An’ w
hy is tha’?”

  The captain lowered his gaze now filled with mirth. “Just the idea that another duke will be indebted to me, albeit unwittingly.”

  “True,” he said, recalling how the captain had come to the rescue of the Duke of Kenbrook’s daughter, now the Duke of Claremont’s wife. “Tha’ will make three dukes you’ve helped.”

  Jack nodded, then a frown touched his lips. He stood and poured more wine into his glass. Connor knew without a doubt what the captain thought. Or rather, of whom he thought. The Duchess of Claremont, Megan Bradshaw.

  He rose to his feet. “I better be leavin’ before dark. Send the men tae the tavern tonight, I’ll tell them where I last saw Merrick,” he said then departed from the cabin.

  The mist had grown thicker since he had boarded the Enigma, Connor thought as he climbed down into the dinghy. Good thing, that. Be harder for someone to notice where he’d come from.

  While he maneuvered the small craft through the water toward the ship that would return him to London dock, his thoughts focused on the captain. Jackson Townsend had been the son of a very wealthy earl. An earl that had been attacked and murdered. Connor shook his head. Although accused of his father’s murder, the man didn’t do it. But after nearly four years, that still couldn’t be proven. The murder had to be solved, though. If Jack would ever get caught, he and anyone with him would be sent directly to the gallows.

  But maybe, just maybe now that his sister held a duchess title, he would be able to glean a bit more information concerning the murder.

  Glancing over his shoulder, Connor noticed the ship just ahead and slowed his rowing. He would have Merrick dealt with first. Aye, chasing the scoundrel all over England for over a month had not been fun. Nearly over, he thought, halting the dinghy along the port side of the large merchant ship that would take him back to London—where Victor Merrick hid.

  If Connor hadn’t run out of money, he would have been able to capture the man long ago. Aye, the bastard had been sneaky. Once Merrick had reached London, he’d rented rooms from several different places at once. Terribly expensive places that refused to answer questions—especially questions from a Scot—unless plenty of gold lined their pockets.

  With a sigh, he climbed onto the ship. Aye, Merrick had to be dealt with. And the sooner, the better.

  ****

  “Oh,” Silver moaned, holding her middle. The coach’s swaying made her stomach churn.

  Molly reached out and placed a hand on her arm. “Are you all right, Your Grace?” she asked from the seat across from her.

  She took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes, I think—” The carriage dipped and swayed. “—no. Oh, God, I’m going to be ill.”

  Thankfully, Molly had banged on the roof of the coach, making it halt, or Silver would have opened the door and ran from the vehicle while it still moved down the road.

  When she’d completed the odious chore behind a bush, she pressed a hand to her tight, queasy stomach. “Please, dearest,” she whispered, “must you be against me too?”

  Turning back to the coach she’d hired, she had to admit to feeling better. Perhaps the little talk to her baby had helped. Then, realizing she wasted time, she hurried back, praying for no more such stops.

  “Are you feeling better, Your Grace?”

  She settled back onto the seat. “Much more the thing,” she said, quite suddenly exhausted. She laid her head back and closed her eyes.

  The coach hit a rut, waking Silver instantly. Several seconds passed before she regained her wits. She had hired the smelly coach to take her to Huntington to retrieve her belongings, then journey to Scotland. The few books she owned were very precious to her and she couldn’t stand the thought of leaving them behind.

  “Are you all right, Your Grace?”

  Silver turned to Molly and nodded. “Yes, I’m—”

  “Halt!” a man shouted outside, his voice raised above the clip-clop of the horses’ hooves and the creaking coach’s wheels.

  Silver peered out of the window, seeing nothing but trees and falling leaves.

  The coach came to a shuddering stop, and she turned to Molly. “Stay here.”

  “But Your Grace—”

  “I mean it, Molly,” she said and opened the door.

  After climbing down the small iron steps, she glanced around. Where the devil had the man gone who ordered the coach to halt? With her heart pounding like a hammer in her throat, she made her way carefully toward the front of the vehicle. The soft whinny of the horses and the chilly wind whistling through the trees were the only sounds she heard.

  She wrapped her cloak tighter around her body. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

  Silence.

  With a deep breath, she looked up at the driver’s seat. Empty. With a frown, she scanned her surroundings, wondering where the coachmen had gone. And how did they get down so quickly?

  Trying to contain her rising panic, Silver turned back toward the coach door and almost collapsed to the ground when she saw him. “Victor,” she whispered, unable to believe he stood just a few feet away.

  He smiled cold, as cold as the look in his eyes. “Hello, Silver,” he said while reaching into the pocket of his plum-colored overcoat. With a flick of his wrist, he withdrew the long, deadly knife. The one that had caused the scar she’d carry the rest of her life.

  Silver’s mouth went dry. She stumbled back a step but resisted the urge to turn and flee, knowing he would chase her down. “Wh-What do you want?” Her eyes remained fixed on the knife’s glistening blade.

  “You know what I want.”

  Even though the air had grown frosty, beads of sweat developed on her forehead. “No, Victor, I don’t,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm and even. Dear God, please make him leave.

  He stepped closer.

  With a gasp, she stumbled back another step. But instead of coming for her, as she thought, Victor opened the coach door.

  “No!” Silver screamed as she watched him drag Molly out by the hair.

  He held the terrified maid before him, holding the knife to her neck. “Now, my dear, are you going to do as I say? Or is your maid going to die?”

  “Please,” she said, seeing the terror in Molly’s eyes, “don’t hurt her.”

  His smile grew sinister. “Then come here and I won’t.”

  On shaky legs, she made her way to Victor. When she’d come close enough, he pushed her maid away and grabbed her, spinning her around. She shivered when he pressed the sharp steel blade against her throat.

  “Now, let us be on our way. I have special plans for you.”

  “Wait.”

  Silver blinked in disbelief as she watched her husband materialize from the nearby copse of trees.

  Victor tensed, causing the knife to sink a bit deeper into her flesh. She winced and moved back, easing the pressure just enough. Then she glanced again at her husband, relieved he had come for her.

  Daniel raised his hands, palm up, signaling his wish for a peaceful encounter. “Wait.”

  “What do you want, Huntington?”

  Her husband’s eyes remained fixed on Victor. “I can’t let you take her.”

  Joy welled up within Silver. Daniel had come to save her. She could hardly believe it.

  “Why would you wish to have her back, Huntington?” Victor lowered his empty left hand, splaying his fingers over her stomach. “Especially since she carries my babe?”

  Silver gasped. “No,” she whispered, watching her husband’s eyes shift to hers and fill with suspicion.

  “Are you with child?” he asked her.

  Her pulse hammered in her neck, choking her. She hesitated, wondering how she’d make him understand.

  He didn’t take her hesitation well. His lips twisted, then he shook his head and turned away.

  “Daniel!” She watched him move back toward the forest.

  Darkness crept into the evening sky and the air grew colder. Silver shivered but kept her eyes on her husband’s retrea
ting back, willing him to come back.

  Just then, she heard the bleat of a lamb followed by an ear-splitting crack of thunder. Then a jagged bolt of lightning fell from the charcoal sky above. “Daniel! Nooooo!”

  Too late. The lightning had already struck and knocked him to the ground.

  “No,” she whispered, closing her eyes against the sight of his body erupting into flames.

  Molly’s voice drifted down from somewhere above her. “Your Grace, please wake up.”

  Silver wrenched open her eyes. Her maid’s worried face loomed over her. Then she glanced at the interior of the coach and relaxed. Oh, thank goodness it had all been a dream. A horrible, terrifying dream. Victor Merrick was not here. And Daniel still lived.

  “Are you all right, Your Grace?” The girl’s voice quivered slightly and tears glazed her eyes.

  Trying to steady the hammering heartbeats in her chest, she took a deep breath and sat up. “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “You were moaning something awful in your sleep, Your Grace. I-I couldn’t wake you.” A tear sneaked down Molly’s cheek.

  Using a handkerchief, Silver swiped the tear away. “Oh, but you did wake me. And I am ever so grateful that you interrupted the unpleasant dream I was having.”

  The maid sniffed. “Truly?”

  She smiled and nodded. “Truly.” Then she realized the coach no longer moved. “Have we arrived already?”

  “Indeed we have, Your Grace.”

  Silver frowned. Had so much time passed? But a glance through the window confirmed Molly’s words. The palatial Huntington mansion rose before her, bathed in evening shadows.

  With an inward groan, she forced her weary body from the coach. Would she remain so tired and ill for the duration of her pregnancy? She hoped not.

  She turned to her maid. “Go fetch Fiona,” she said. “I’ll see to my chest of books.” She decided to take Fiona in case she wouldn’t be accepted by her brothers. Then she’d have to sell the beautiful horse and find somewhere to live.

  As Molly moved off toward the stables, Silver glanced up at the beautiful mansion she had so foolishly believed would be her home for the rest of her life. She should have known better. Didn’t everyone eventually send her away?