The Duke's Dilemma (The Wolf Deceivers Series Book 2)

by Elaine Manders

  She sprang to her feet, whether she was shocked by the notion Lucy was murdered or to escape his embrace, he couldn’t tell. “Lucy’s death was ruled a suicide.”

  “Lucy was a servant. Little effort was expended to determine the cause of her death. We’ll dig deeper into the matter.”

  Her bosom rose and fell as she paced back and forth before him. “If you could help to expose Sir Harcrumb, I would be most grateful. But I think it would be best if I not leave for the country just yet.”

  He shot up. “What madness has snagged your brain now? After tonight it’s more important than ever that you leave London’s gossip mill. Indeed you will go. I won’t have you break Sarah’s heart.” Nor his.

  She huffed a breath and stretched her hands apart. “Don’t you understand? It’s for Sarah’s sake and yours that I not go. I’m poison at the moment, and make no mistake, my troubles will follow me.”

  He noticed she kept her left hand clenched as if she held something. “What have you in your hand?”

  A startled expression crossed her face as she pressed the fist to her chest. “Nothing…only a bit of paper that I intended to discard and forgot.” Her eyes darted like a bird’s, searching for a safe landing place. “I’ll dispose of it now.”

  She headed to a waste basket, but he clasped her arm, stopping her in mid-stride. That paper meant something, and he intended to find out what. As she turned, he took her fisted left hand in both his. She jerked and struggled. “Unhand me. You presume too much, Edward.” She kicked him in the shin. He barely felt the punch.

  Yes, that paper meant a great deal. He pried her fingers open. Keeping one eye on her to make sure she didn’t run away, he smoothed the crumpled paper and read. By the time he’d finished, a rage burned in the pit of his stomach.

  He willed his voice to remain steady. “Who are these servants Harcrumb speaks of?”

  “His slaves.” She spoke in a remarkably calm tone. “Now you know why I cannot go to Langsdale. How would you like to have the constable appear to take your houseguest away to the Old Bailey?”

  Edward had to swallow his laughter at that absurd notion. Surely she didn’t think Harcrumb could have her arrested. “He can’t do that. Yes, he may be rich enough to cause you some embarrassment for hiding debtors, but he won’t even do that.”

  “He will. I know him too well.”

  Edward let the paper drop and directed his full attention to her. How did she come to know a bounder like Harcrumb? What hold did he have on her? Those questions begged to be answered, but not now. She was too distraught.

  “You can put your mind at ease with the situation, Cassandra. Have your trunks ready. We’ll leave for Langsdale early Monday morning. I’ll take care of Harcrumb tomorrow.”

  Her mind wasn’t put at ease. A look of horror congealed her features as she flew at him. “No, Edward, don’t do it, I beg of you. Leave me. I couldn’t bear it if you should come to harm because of me.”

  To his surprise, her fingers sank into the fabric of his coat’s sleeve and held on tight. Her eyes, swimming with tears, pleaded with him. He laid a hand on each of her slumped shoulders and smiled in an attempt to calm her.

  She shook her head. Another tendril fell to match the one grazing her other cheek. “You’re going to challenge Harcrumb to a duel, but you don’t realize how despicable he is. He doesn’t play fair but will have someone waylay you or—” Her breaths came in heaves. “Or some other horrid thing. He will kill you.”

  He started to speak, but she rushed on, “No, you must understand. I know you care for me, Edward. With all my heart I wish I could return your affection, but I’m sorry I involved you. I only meant to draw your interest from Lady Ashford. You must let it be known you are through with me. Harcrumb has vowed that no other man will have me. That’s why he killed…why he killed Geoffrey…Lord Wayte.”

  All strength seemed to leave her as she sank to her knees, still holding onto him. “Please, Edward, leave me before it’s too late.”

  Stunned by her passion, Edward threw his head back to stare at the ceiling. God send me wisdom. Anger and hatred raged in him for the man who would reduce a woman to this state, but something more important demanded his attention—elation. She cared that he might get hurt. Did he dare hope she loved him?

  Daphne or any other woman would have been thrilled that a man would fight a duel for her, but Cassandra was willing to sacrifice herself for him. The possibility existed that she loved him and didn’t even realize it. That thought warmed his insides.

  Edward dropped his gaze and found her watching him with an intensity that awoke feelings of gallantry and desire. He was ready to go out and slay a dragon or two.

  Her eyes darkened to the deep blue of the sky before dusk as he bent to lift her to standing position. “Cassandra, have no fear for me. I’ve bested worse than Sir Harcrumb, and if you think for one moment I could leave you in these straits, you’re mistaken.”

  “No, you don’t understand how evil this man is.” She moved her head from side to side.

  He couldn’t resist tucking those golden tendrils behind her ears. “I do understand and I will take care. You’re not alone in this any longer, my darling.”

  Fresh tears spilled from her eyes, and her lips moved as if she wanted to say more but couldn’t get the words out. His gaze lingered on her mouth.

  A woman had never been more ready to be kissed. He lowered his head slowly until their lips touched. With great care, he savored the taste like the first sip of a fine wine. Her lips trembled, and if he didn’t know better, he’d have sworn this was her first kiss.

  Her arms slid naturally around his waist. Like a smoldering fire that bursts into flame, passion flared. The opening of a door saved him from taking more than he should. They broke apart at the sound.

  Carswell had scarcely ducked his head in the door before withdrawing. Doubtless the butler had heard Cassandra’s outburst and had come to investigate. Just as well. Edward must leave before losing his sense of decorum.

  “If you hear nothing from me tomorrow, you’ll know all goes well. The carriage will stop for you at nine on Monday.” He raised her hand to his lips. Releasing it after the light kiss, he rushed from the room while he still could.

  Chapter 15

  Cassandra beat a path in the carpet of her boudoir, pacing back and forth in her undress while Hetty searched the wardrobe for a suitable day gown. The turmoil of the evening combined with a sleepless night left Cassandra nerve-strung.

  If only she knew what might be happening. She blamed herself for the danger the duke would face. One moment she wanted to hustle into the first garment Hetty found and dash out the door in search of him. The next moment, good sense held her back. If not good sense, then pure fear.

  Her glance traveled to the duke’s portrait, as it did dozens of time a day. She could close her eyes and almost feel the pressure of his lips on hers. The feelings he’d evoked with that kiss lingered and surprised her. She’d always thought she’d be repulsed by a man’s touch. Yet she wasn’t repulsed at all. On the contrary, she wanted to savor that feeling.

  She longed for him to kiss her again.

  “This one should suit your ladyship.” Hetty held out a simple dove gray gown that could be dressed up with its matching lustring pelisse if Cassandra should need it.

  “It’s acceptable.” Cassandra slipped out of her wrapper and allowed Hetty to dress her. She turned her head to address the maid who was working on the back buttons. “Did those two young women get off without being noticed?”

  “Indeed, m’lady, no one saw them but me.”

  Cassandra hoped Hetty spoke the truth. “If anyone should come around asking about them, I trust you to reveal nothing.” She fully expected Sir Harcrumb to send someone, no matter how much Edward threatened him.

  “Not a word, m’lady.” Finished with the buttons, Hetty stepped around her. “Lady Hayes asked if you would go to church today.”

  Church? It
was Sunday. Cassandra’s mind was too muddled to even recall the day of the week. “No—not today, but tell her I’ll join her for evening prayers.” If she were still here by evening. Harcrumb might have her arrested before then. She’d have plenty of time to pray in goal.

  But Edward had said he’d take care of Harcrumb. He’d let her know. He’d asked her to trust him, and she wanted to, but trust came hard for her.

  “What should I pack for your trip, m’lady?”

  “Only half a dozen day gowns, the same number of morning and evening gowns. Life in the country is much more casual, so I don’t expect my needs will be onerous. But do pack all of my riding habits. I want the opportunity to ride above all.”

  Someone rapped at the door, and Cassandra clutched at her nerves as Hetty wheeled around to open it. Though Hetty only opened the door a crack, Cassandra heard Carswell.

  “Her ladyship has a caller. Lady Ashford.”

  Anxiety heightened and Cassandra contemplated telling him she was indisposed. She glanced to the French clock. Not yet eleven o’clock. Why would Daphne be calling at this hour, or at all? Did Daphne have news about Edward?

  Cassandra drew in a lungful of air and held it to steady her nerves. “Tell her I’ll be down directly.”

  After waiting a decent amount of time, she bounded down the wide stairs determined that Daphne wouldn’t intimidate her, but by the time she reached the drawing room, her bravado died. Fear again chewed her insides as she stepped over the threshold.

  Daphne struck a charming pose in her peacock blue morning gown and fetching lilac trimmed bonnet. She met Cassandra like a long lost friend. “Dearest Cassandra, I apologize for the unexpected visit. I trust I didn’t call you from something important.”

  “No, nothing important. Please be seated.”

  Daphne found a place on the same settee Cassandra and Edward had shared last night. “I feared you might have taken ill since you left the Harcrumb’s party so suddenly.”

  Cassandra saw no need for pretense. “I left when Edward told me you, along with Lady Millicent and Mrs. Harcrumb, had concocted a plot to humiliate me in front of Lady Jersey.”

  Daphne drew back with eyes widened, the perfect picture of shock. Then she relaxed and laughed. “Someone should have warned you earlier that Edward is given to pranks. Why, he wanted you to himself, I dare say. A ploy that worked admirably, did it not?”

  She was lying, of course, but Cassandra wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of letting her know she cared. “If you called to ask after my health, you can see I’m in fine fiddle, but I appreciate your concern.”

  “No, that’s not the reason. I understand you intend to accompany the family to Langsdale Manor tomorrow for an extended visit.”

  Cassandra nodded, not that it was any of Daphne’s business.

  “Even though a widow, you are very young, dear. You can’t possibly know the wiles of men. Deep in the soul of every man there rests the belief that a woman is made only for his pleasure. I feel I should warn you.”

  “Warn me? Of what?”

  “Have you asked why Edward would invite you to the country?”

  Cassandra knew why. Edward wanted her company. Though he’d not said so in words, she knew he wished to show her his estate. “To continue tutoring Sarah in painting.”

  Daphne laughed, that nasally titter that grated on the nerves. “That may be what he’s told you, but I assure you he wants more than a tutor for Sarah.”

  The impertinence of the shrew to come into her home and insult her thus. And the duke. Cassandra clutched the sides of the chair. “The duke has given me no reason not to believe his intentions are honorable.”

  “Nor would he, but why is he investigating you?”

  What fustian was Daphne up to now? “He’s not. There’s no need to investigate me.”

  Daphne smoothed her skirt. “I know how hard it must be to accept that a man might not be truthful to you. I was surprised myself.” She scooted to the edge of her seat. “Only allow me to tell you how it came about. I broke the clasp of my diamond bracelet last night, and Charles Galloway put it in his pocket for safekeeping. I forgot about it until this morning. Well, it’s a valuable piece, you understand, so I went straightway to the rooming establishment where Charles resides.”

  Cassandra bit back the retort that rose in her throat. A strong desire to throw something at the priggish woman flew over her, but curiosity held her down, waiting for more. “You visited a man in his bachelor establishment?”

  Daphne pulled a smug smile. “Charles was not in residence, and it was quite respectable. The proprietress went in with me.” She paused a long moment and shrugged her shoulders. “I did find my bracelet, but something astonishing as well. Charles’ evening coat was hanging on the back of a chair that stood at his desk. I couldn’t help but glance at the desk and found correspondence from a Bow Street Runner giving his fees for investigating Lady Cassandra Wayte—for one Edward Dalton.”

  Heat flushed Cassandra’s face, and she willed the panic rising within her to be still. “Investigating me for what?”

  “There were no details as to that, and I have no notion why Charles was the go-between, but I was knocked off my pins at the revelation and knew you should be alerted to what skullduggery was afoot.”

  The pins Daphne was knocked off seemed to stick into Cassandra, holding her immobile like some insect pinned to paper. What did Edward know about her? Things she’d thought were so well hidden.

  It took all her resolve to maintain her composure. She tilted her chin up enough to show Daphne all the contempt she felt. “I’m certain it means nothing. Edward is merely looking out for my interests.”

  Daphne sounded a polite cough. “It might be that Edward has re-opened the investigation into your late husband’s death. Lord Wayte and the Langsdales were neighbors, and they admired him immensely. That might be why you were invited to the manor.”

  Cassandra narrowed her eyes, sending the countess a penetrating stare. If Daphne hoped to use this story to keep her from going to Langsdale Manor, she would disabuse her of that notion. “This is something I shall discuss with Edward on our journey tomorrow.” She rose as gracefully as possible. “If you’ll excuse me, Lady Ashford, I wish to attend to my packing. You understand?”

  Daphne got to her feet slowly. She scowled, clearly not ready to take her leave. “I must mention that Lady Millicent has invited me to Waytefield, so we will likely be seeing each other. I also have plans to give little Sarah a birthday party.”

  Daphne not only planned to follow them to Langsdale, she must intend to take over. “Why would you need to give Sarah a party?”

  “Lady Pugh and I laid the plans weeks ago, but don’t tell Sarah. It’s to be a surprise. Since we’ll all be in the country when her birthday comes around, I think a picnic will be perfect.” As she glided past Cassandra, she added, “We’ll discuss the particulars after everyone is settled.”

  Cassandra watched Daphne’s stiff back as Carswell guided her to the door. The true purpose of Daphne’s visit was as clear as the Tower of London when the fog rolled away.

  Lady Ashford hadn’t given up her pursuit of Edward.

  ***

  Charles Galloway rode with Edward as they threaded their way through the crowded streets to St. John’s Wood. Charles stretched back in the saddle. “I wish we were in the open so I could show you what this stallion can do.”

  Edward glanced over the horse’s lines. “He’s a fine bit of horseflesh. You chose wisely.” They entered the woods leading to the Harcrumb’s townhouse.

  “I hope I did.” Charles looked up the road. “You want to tell me why we’re calling on Sir Harcrumb. I know it’s not a social call. Does it have something to do with leaving the party abruptly last night with Lady Wayte?”

  “It has everything to do with that. What have you learned about the man?”

  “Only what I’ve already told you. He’s a poltroon and a libertine.” He lowered his
voice. “There is talk that his lightskirts didn’t enter into the business of their own choice.”

  “Are they kept there against their will?”

  Charles furrowed his brow. “Who can say, but I’ve heard things that don’t bear repeating. Perversions and lewd acts, a torture chamber with men paying for the pleasure of being tormented.”

  “What I really want to know is what connection does Lady Wayte have with such a scoundrel?”

  “Sorry, I haven’t discovered any connection.”

  They were almost at their destination. “I only know of one connection. Harcrumb claims Cassandra is stealing his prostitutes.”

  “What?” The tone of Charles’s question was incredulous. “Then do something about that poltroon. I shall stand your second whenever you say, and shoot to kill, I say. You’d be doing humanity a favor.”

  Would that it be so simple, but Edward suspected Cassandra was right. Harcrumb would never agree to a fair duel. They dismounted and handed the ribbons over to a liveried groom.

  A grim-faced butler took Edward’s card and disappeared into the bowels of the house. They were left to cool their heels for a quarter of an hour before the butler returned.

  “Sir Harcrumb is quite busy today, but he can see you for a few minutes.”

  “A few minutes should be adequate.”

  “This way, gentlemen.”

  Three sets of footsteps echoed off the wall of the hall as Edward and Charles followed the butler. They entered a portrait-hung corridor, at the end of which a door stood open.

  For all the opulence of the house, Sir Harcrumb’s office was threadbare. A low bookcase hugged one wall with curtains covering the shelves as if Harcrumb couldn’t stand the sight of books. A ponderous desk took up most of the floor with only two slatted chairs for visitors.

  Harcrumb made no move to stand as his butler muttered the introductions and slipped out. “I haven’t much time, duke.” After pushing the clutter scattered on the desktop to one side, Harcrumb laid his folded hands on the cleared spot and peered at them from under bushy brows.