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

by Elaine Manders

  As Edward bounded onto the stage, Cassandra caught the glint of metal out of the periphery of her eye. “He has a gun,” she screamed.

  Too late.

  A blast shattered the air. Edward swayed and toppled backward, crashing into the short baluster that edged the steps.

  Frustration shrieked within her as Cassandra crawled to him. Harcrumb caught her by the nape of her gown and hauled her upright. She fought with all she had until he twisted her around, clamping an iron hold on her middle.

  “He’s dead,” Harcrumb snarled.

  She shook her head as she continued to struggle, regardless of how futile that was. Hope and fear warred in her. Edward was not dead. At the moment she wasn’t able to accept that. “You will hang for this.”

  “My ship is ready to pull out. I think we’ll have to wait until we’re out to sea to play our game.”

  “You can’t escape. He’s a duke. They’ll follow you to the ends of the earth.”

  She turned and caught a glimpse of Harcrumb’s face. Despite his bluster, sweat glistened on his forehead.

  “I won’t be suspected. My quivive will take the blame. It’s her fault anyway. She should have stopped him.

  Walking backwards, he tugged Cassandra along toward the curtains. He obviously intended to take her out the back exit.

  A loud pop rent the air, and Cassandra jerked away, surprised when Harcrumb didn’t resist. As in a nightmare, he toppled forward, blood pouring from the hole in his coat.

  The still smoking pistol jutted from where the curtains parted, and Millicent Wayte stepped out. She tossed the pistol aside and drew its mate from her cloak, pointing it at Cassandra.

  Without a thought of her own safety or why Millicent was here or that she’d shot Harcrumb, Cassandra flew to where Edward lay and dropped to her knees. She was certain she’d seen his chest rise and fall earlier. He was not dead.

  Please God let it be so.

  Her hand trembled as she pressed it over his bloodied chest. Yes, definitely a heartbeat—and strong.

  “Is he dead?”

  A warning flared in Cassandra’s brain. If Millicent knew Edward lived, she might take action to make certain he didn’t survive. Cassandra didn’t have to force the tears that gushed forth. “Yes.”

  Millicent’s eyes darted from the prostrate forms of Edward to Harcrumb, then her gaze settled on Cassandra. “It’s just as well. Harcrumb intended to leave me to take the blame. He thought to get rid of me, no doubt. The fool. He got what he deserved, but he had better have the money on him he promised me.”

  Cassandra positioned herself in front of Edward, covering as much of him as she could and praying he wouldn’t move. She’d always believed madness lay just below Millicent’s surface. The strange glaze in the woman’s eyes strengthened that belief.

  She swallowed her fear. “He hired you to kill Lord Wayte, did he not?”

  A look of confusion flitted over Millicent’s face for a moment. “It was George’s fault. He told me his father couldn’t settle his wealth on you until he returned to London. We discovered that wasn’t true. Too late.”

  Millicent grimaced and drew her mouth into a knot as if she’d tasted something sour. “Harcrumb offered me a hundred pounds to kill Lord Wayte, but he wouldn’t pay until after I’d done the deed. I had to go out before daybreak to meet him.”

  “You wore Daphne’s cloak.”

  Millicent shrugged. “Daphne had dropped her ermine cloak on the divan inside the front door when she returned from the ball. I knew it was cold, so of course I took it.” She gave Cassandra a piercing glance. “How could you have known that?”

  “I don’t recall. Perhaps Daphne told me she missed it.” All the while Cassandra kept Millicent talking, she searched for a way to persuade the mad woman to leave. Edward was losing blood. “You should escape, Millicent. Someone may come at any moment to accuse you of killing Harcrumb and the duke.”

  Cassandra doubted Millicent heard anything but the voices in her head. She looked straight through Cassandra, her features hardened in concentration. “I must get my story straight. The duke might have killed Harcrumb and then killed himself to escape execution.”

  Her black, glittering eyes squinted as if she just noticed Cassandra was present. “But that leaves you…and, I think I’ve contrived the perfect solution. A murder suicide.”

  Coils of fear squeezed Cassandra. She knew exactly what Millicent meant.

  Millicent drew her brows together, perhaps working the details out in her twisted mind. “That’s how it would happen. Harcrumb killed you. The duke came in and killed Harcrumb, but being so distraught that you were dead, he shot himself in the chest.”

  The tight line of Millicent’s brows relaxed, and her smile turned strangely appealing, as if she sought Cassandra’s approval. “You know how the Ton is. They’ll lap it up like greedy dogs.”

  She lowered the pistol until Cassandra was staring into the barrel.

  ***

  Awareness penetrated Edward’s brain in slow degrees. A woman spoke, but he couldn’t place her voice. He’d been shot by Harcrumb, and experience in battle made him freeze. When helpless, playing dead was the only hope of survival.

  Cassandra.

  He sensed her presence and opened his eyes a slit to find her directly in front of him with her back to him. Harcrumb lay face down in the middle of the stage. The woman who spoke stood a few from Cassandra, a dueling pistol poised in her outstretched hand.

  Surprise was the only weapon available to him. With every ounce of strength he could muster, he sprang, shoving Cassandra aside and knocking the gun from Millicent’s hand.

  She shrieked as he waylaid her, forcing her arms behind her.

  He shook his head as waves of blackness threatened to topple him. Fighting against nausea, he drew in a deep breath while keeping a vice grip on Millicent.

  Cassandra had retrieved the gun, and he waited until the two images of her came together. “I’ll hold her until you get help.” He strained to get the words out.

  “She’ll come with me. I’ll get a doctor.”

  He shook his head again. Not the best decision he’d ever made. He fell to his knees, bringing Millicent down with him.

  She flapped her arms wildly. “Don’t shoot, Cassandra. We can come to some understanding."

  “Get off him, Millicent.” Cassandra’s voice held more steel than Edward’s former commander. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she had shot the whimpering Millicent.

  He blinked, trying to maintain focus. The three of them seemed frozen in time, each afraid of what the other might do. Then the door crashed open. Charles Galloway marched in, followed by two of Langsdale’s footmen.

  Hodges, a burley Welshman, took charge of Millicent, dragging her out of the room.

  “Jackson, get a gurney and wagon.” Charles sent the order to the other footman, then kneeled beside Edward.

  “Is there a doctor nearby?” Cassandra asked.

  “The doctor lives closer to Langsdale than here. I’ll get Jackson to have the doctor waiting for us at the manor.” While he spoke, Charles pulled Edward’s shirt open to examine his wound. Like Edward, Charles had picked up the rudiments of medical knowledge in the army.

  After fingering the wound at the back of Edward’s head, Charles drew his knife from its sheath, an action that worried Edward. Charles wasn’t experienced enough in medicine to perform surgery.

  Charles handed the knife to Cassandra. “Tear some strips from your petticoat.”

  With not a second’s hesitation at the unconventional order, she lifted her skirt and Edward heard fabric rip.

  Charles bound Edward’s chest and tied a strip around his head. He sat back on his heels. “He was hit in the shoulder.” Charles addressed Cassandra. “Except for blood loss, it’s not serious, but there’s a gash and lump at the back of his head.”

  Cassandra kneeled beside Edward, her eyes clouded with concern. “His head struck the iron baluster w
hen he fell.”

  They were speaking as if he were unconscious and couldn’t understand. “I’ll be all right. Let me get to my—”

  Cassandra laid her hand over his mouth. “Save your strength, darling. I’m certain you’ll be all right. God wouldn’t take you from me now.”

  She smiled and as soon as she slipped her hand away, he couldn’t hold the question back. “Did you just call me darling?”

  “That’s your new title…but I’m the only one who can use it.”

  He had more to say, but couldn’t get his brain to form the words.

  Jackson returned, dragging a feather mattress. “We’ll use this for a gurney, your grace. The wagon is waiting outside the door.”

  They were molly-coddling him. He could stand…and walk with a little help. But Cassandra would brook no arguments, so he allowed the men to lift him onto the mattress. He might as well get used to being fussed over by a woman.

  She walked beside them, holding onto his hand. If his head didn’t hurt so much, he’d have thought he’d died and awakened in heaven.

  Chapter 26

  Edward swallowed a bile-load of pain as the doctor poked and probed his injuries. Simpkins stood on the other side of the bed and Charles at the foot. At the window with her back to him, Cassandra waited. She’d refused to leave, even during the examination.

  Her strength and resolve astonished him. She’d given Dr. Blackstone his orders and even sent a huffing Aunt Chloe out of the room. Something had come over Cassandra. She spoke with confidence and authority.

  He kept his gaze focused on her while the doctor bound the wounds with linen and announced, “You can relax, your grace. I’ve finished.”

  Cassandra swung around and strode to his side. “How long will it take?”

  Dr. Blackstone understood. “He may run a fever. I shouldn’t be surprised if he did. The head wound will cause pain, but I don’t believe it’s dangerous. I’ll leave laudanum.”

  The doctor finished packing his instruments. “Simpkins, his grace must take broth and rest in a darkened room for the next few days. When his appetite improves, serve him rare steak to help replace the loss of blood.”

  Dr. Blackstone gave Cassandra a fatherly pat on the arm. “All will be well, Lady Wayte. You may leave him safely in Simpkins’ capable hands.”

  Cassandra took the chair the doctor had vacated. She captured Edward’s hand, sending warmth along his arm to lodge in his heart. Her lips curved as she tipped her head to one side. “I’m. Not. Leaving. You.”

  He smiled, though the effort pained him. “Not ever?”

  Her golden head moved from side to side. “Not ever.”

  That’s all he needed to know. He tore his gaze from her. “Charles, I have an errand for you.”

  Charles straightened like a soldier. “I’m at your service.”

  “In the middle drawer of the desk in my study you’ll find a special marriage license. I wish you to fetch the vicar. Retrieve that license and return here with them both at all possible speed.”

  This pronouncement caught everyone’s attention. On his way to the door, Dr. Blackstone stopped in his tracks. Charles turned on his heel and left, and Simpkins ambled forward, dipping his head. “Do we understand you to mean you intend to wed today, your grace?”

  Edward felt Cassandra tighten her grasp on his hand. “You understand correctly, Simpkins.”

  Sarah slipped into the room. “Are you all right, Edward? Who’s to be wed?” She glanced at the men before directing her large, red-rimmed eyes to Edward.

  Aunt Chloe had undoubtedly held Sarah back until now, and the child had been worrying over him. “I’m quite well, considering, Sarah. Come here.”

  Cassandra slid her arm around Sarah’s waist in a hug.

  “Cassandra and I are to wed, Sarah. Do you approve?”

  Momentarily speechless, Sarah nodded with such vigor her brown curls bounced. “Today? Now?”

  Edward grinned at the change in her countenance. “As soon as the vicar arrives. Go tell Aunt Chloe and Lady Hayes.”

  She whirled in a flash of ruffled petticoats, shouting as she ran. “We’re going to have a wedding. Here. Today. We’re going to have a wedding.”

  Cassandra bent over him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “My heart is too full to tell you what I feel, darling, but I shall, later.”

  She was fortunate he was lying flat on the bed without the strength to take advantage of the moment.

  As soon as Aunt Chloe arrived, he had to relinquish his bride. She would change from her blood-splattered gown into something more appropriate.

  Edward closed his eyes against the throbbing pain that still bothered him. Simpkins must have noticed the grimace. “The doctor said you could take a draught of laudanum, your grace.”

  “No, I want to be in my right mind when I get married, but you can fetch another pillow so I don’t have to deliver my vows flat of my back.”

  By the time Edward had been settled in a semi-sitting position, the vicar arrived, dressed in the regalia of his position. Clutching a black leather bound book to his chest, he bowed and brushed back bushy salt and pepper hair from his forehead.

  Lady Hayes, wringing a handkerchief in her hands, and a stoic Aunt Chloe tottered in, followed by the beaming Sarah.

  The vicar took his place beside Edward’s bed. “I would assume your grace would prefer the abbreviated version?”

  “You assume correctly, just the necess—” The rest of his thought was knocked down his throat as he caught sight of Cassandra. She wore his mother’s wedding gown. He’d marveled at that elegant garment as a small boy when Mother had shown him.

  It fit Cassandra’s regal form to perfection. The slip of white satin gleamed under an overdress of French gauze shot with mock diamonds and pearl-encrusted Chinese roses. A tiara of real diamonds nestled in her golden curls.

  He forgot the pain and the harrowing events they’d endured only a short while ago.

  She’s so beautiful and pure. My God, I’m blessed beyond measure. Thank You.

  The gauze overdress sparkled and floated gracefully as she moved to him. She didn’t sit in the chair waiting for her, but kneeled beside the bed, took both his hands, and looked up at the vicar. “We’re ready,” she said.

  He should have said that, but he was mesmerized by her lovely profile.

  The service was simple indeed, setting forth the duties of husband and wife followed by their vows.

  As Cassandra started to rise, Edward slipped his hand behind her neck and pulled her in for a kiss that lingered perhaps longer than it should.

  The vicar’s cough broke them apart, and he resumed in his oratorical voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the Duke and Duchess of Langsdale.”

  Sarah clapped. “Now Cassandra can help me with that watercolor I’ve started.”

  Aunt Chloe chuckled. “Sarah, dear, I think you should go with Lady Hayes and me. Perhaps you can paint the Avon valley.”

  “Go? But I want to stay with my new sister, and help her get Edward well.”

  Aunt Chloe put a firm hand on Sarah’s shoulder. “It’s best that you go, dear. Edward and Cassandra will wish to have some time alone.”

  “Aunt Chloe is right,” Cassandra said. “When you return, I promise we shall have the best Christmas celebration waiting for you that you can imagine.”

  Edward smiled, pleased that Cassandra had slipped into her role as Sarah’s guardian and his duchess so easily.

  But the pain returned when everyone fell upon them with their congratulations. By the time they’d left, Edward was glad to accept the laudanum. For the time he’d leave everything to his wife.

  ***

  The following days Cassandra guarded her husband from visitors. He’d run a fever so high it burned her hand to touch him. She refused to allow fear to take hold, but went about the task of bathing his burning body herself. Yes, Simpkins or his valet could do it, but they couldn’t administer the caresses she add
ed. Besides, until he recovered, this was the only intimacy they shared.

  Edward was young and strong. Dr. Blackstone assured her he’d bounce back in no time. By the middle of the second week, she began to believe the doctor. Edward got restless, wanting to quit the bed and do more than he should. None of the servants were going to oppose him, so it was left to her. One of those little wifely duties no one spoke of. She had to exert all her persuasion to keep him from getting dressed and returning to his duties.

  His office was moved upstairs and piled up paperwork kept him busy much of the day.

  Now after two weeks, she waited below stairs as the doctor paid his visit, hoping Dr. Blackstone would pronounce Edward out of danger and well enough to return to normal. That little niggling guilt rested at the back of her mind that he’d been injured while protecting her.

  Footsteps on the stairs drew her attention. Dr. Blackstone came down with his bag in hand and a smile on his face. “I told your husband he may get dressed and take a turn around the grounds. He needs some sun and fresh air.”

  She released the anxious breath she’d been holding. “Such wonderful news. I’m most grateful to you.”

  “Ah, but it was your nursing that brought him through so fast.” He accepted his coat and cane from Simpkins. “I’ll see myself out.”

  Cassandra was about to tear up the stairs when a familiar voice floated in from the foyer. They were not receiving visitors, and she wondered why George Wayte had called. She waited for him where she stood.

  He bowed. “Forgive my intrusion. Would it be possible to see Edward on a matter of business?”

  “Edward moved his office to his bedchamber. Since Dr. Blackstone has released him from care, I think it would be all right to discuss business. Follow me.”

  Curiosity burned within her as they ascended the stairs. She wanted to ask after Millicent, but didn’t wish to burden George more than he already was, at least not until he’d stated his business.

  She knocked on the door as she opened it. Edward stood at the window, peeling a peach with a tiny silver knife. She sent him a smile, surprised that he still wore his robe, but perhaps his valet was occupied. “George is here, darling. Do you feel up to seeing him?”