An Inconvenient Duke

by Anna Harrington

  All of them… Horrible memories flooded back of the bruises, cuts, burns, and scars she’d seen on the women Nightingale had rescued. A few of the women refused to admit the truth behind how they’d gotten them, still loyal to their apologetic abusers even at the very end when they were fleeing for their lives. Especially those attacks that weren’t physical, the ones that abused a woman’s mind and soul, done to bring her into submission or just out of sheer cruelty. How could women like those not think she was turning her back on them if she did as he wanted?

  Anguish sliced at her insides. “I can’t give up Nightingale.”

  “Not give it up. Change its mission.”

  “I can’t!”

  He didn’t understand how important Nightingale was to her, how he was pushing her into a corner and making her choose between him and the network. He didn’t understand the weight that she carried on her shoulders even now, the remorse over not being able to rescue more women. How did he expect her to turn her back on them just so she could capture her own happiness? The guilt would eat her alive!

  He countered, “You can’t help them from your grave either.”

  “That won’t happen.” She blinked rapidly, and damn the tears that threatened at her lashes!

  “You can’t be certain of that unless you stop the vanishings.” When she pulled out of his embrace and walked away, he pursued her. “I want to marry you, Danielle. I want to be the devoted husband you deserve.” He took her shoulders and turned her to face him. “And I want you by my side when I carve out a new future for myself, whatever it will be. You’re the only woman who can be that support for me, the only one who has the confidence to stand with me and the spine to stand up to me.”

  His tempting words engulfed her. How easy it would be to give in! With a single word of agreement to have the future she’d always wanted, to lift the burden of Nightingale from her shoulders…and with that word put her own selfish desires before the needs of women who lived every hour in fear for their lives.

  Her heart was rending itself in two.

  “We can’t have that if you’re risking your life with Nightingale. I won’t live like that, in constant worry that you’ll be harmed. Or worse.” He cupped her face between his hands. With an anguished, tortured expression, he squeezed his eyes shut and lowered his head to rest his forehead against hers. “Having to bury you in the ground, to mourn at your grave site…” His voice was nothing more than a hoarse rasp. His mouth was so close to hers that his warm breath fanned achingly over her cheeks, so close that his lips brushed faintly against hers with each word he murmured. “Dear God…it would end me.”

  When he leaned in to kiss her, worry and fear flavored his kiss. Dear heavens, so strong that she could taste it! Guilt and desolation swept fiercely through her, and she shuddered within his arms, for once taking no solace in his strength.

  “Marry me, Danielle,” he murmured. “I promise that I will keep you safe. Always.”

  But at what cost?

  So many women, all of them needing to be saved in one way or another. Women all over England with no place to go, no one to turn to for help…except her.

  She’d die before she abandoned them.

  “I can’t give up Nightingale, Marcus,” she choked out. “I won’t.” All her dreams of a future with him disappeared as a single tear escaped down her cheek. She pressed her fist against her chest to physically fight down the wretched anguish that consumed her as she admitted, barely loud enough to be a whisper—“Not even for you.”

  Twenty-Three

  Two Unbearable Days Later

  Dani stopped pacing to stare out her bedroom window at the puddle-drenched street below, but she saw nothing through the drizzling rain except Marcus’s face.

  But then, hadn’t she seen only that since she’d refused to marry him? Even here, safe within her home, she couldn’t escape him, not when his image played constantly before her eyes.

  She’d sleepwalked through the last two days…not eating, not sleeping, yet somehow managing not to break down in tears. When Harriett returned this morning from her trip to Brighton, Dani had managed to smile through a brief welcome before feigning a headache and spending the rest of her day alone in her room, staring out the window when she wasn’t fretfully pacing the floor. The men were out there somewhere, unseen, guarding her and the house, keeping her safe…and making her wonder if she could find one of them and convince the man to tell her how Marcus was, if he was just as miserable as she was or if he had given up on her and moved on.

  Stopping her pacing before she wore the rug threadbare, she sank onto her reading chair, clutching the throw pillow to her chest. She’d had not one word from Marcus since she’d left Charlton Place, somehow even then keeping the tears from falling, if only to save her foolish pride.

  But she’d heard almost incessantly from Beatrice, hounding her to know whether Nightingale would rescue the girl. She didn’t want to think about the girl and her plight, but every message the countess sent only served to remind her of the choice she’d been forced to make…women who needed her or the love of her life.

  The anger and anguish inside her burned like fire. He loved her… How many years had she dreamt about hearing those words from him, of him loving her and wanting to marry her?

  But what he was asking of her in exchange—

  Ashes!

  Claudia’s words about her brother the night of the dinner rushed back to her. That he was lost, that his new life in London lacked meaning and he needed important activities to fill his life…

  He needs to be rescued from himself. But how did she save a man who didn’t want to be saved? Who fought her every step of the way, even in this, something she held so dear—

  “Damn you.” The desolate whisper tore from her, and the burning tears she’d been holding back for two days finally squeezed from her closed eyes. “Damn you, Marcus Braddock…” For making me love you. For making me want you, now and for the rest of my life. For making me have to choose…

  Overwhelming longing to be with him quivered inside her. Not only a physical yearning, but also the desire to simply be near him. Quiet conversations in front of the fire punctuated by challenging debates, strolls through the park, nights at the opera…nights spent just lying in his arms, warm and happy, as she drifted off to sleep.

  God help her, she wanted a life with him. Craved it with every ounce of her being.

  But not at the price he required of her.

  “Damn you, Marcus Braddock!” She angrily flung the pillow as hard as she could.

  Hurtling across the room, the pillow hit the wall above the fireplace, fell down, and smacked the mantel. It caught the corner of the music box and tumbled it off the shelf. When the box hit the marble hearth, it shattered with a loud crash. Metal parts flew in every direction across the floor, and the wooden lid splintered into pieces.

  Her heart stopped as all of her flashed numb for one terrible moment. She stared at the pieces on the floor as they blurred beneath her tears, unable to let herself dare to believe it. The self-recrimination came swift and brutal, ripping through her like a lightning strike.

  Elise’s music box… Oh good God, what had she done?

  She dropped to the floor and crawled the few feet to the broken box. The wooden case lay on the rug with its lid ripped back on the little hinges and a large shard of wood gouged out of its side. The metal disc inside had been bent beyond repair, and the tiny mechanisms that made it play lay scattered in pieces across the floor like brass confetti. All the pieces blurred together from her tears, and her hands shook so hard that her fingers couldn’t pick up the little brass key lying on the rug at her knees.

  She covered her face with her hands as tears streamed down her face. Broken. Everything in her life—broken! The women she helped through Nightingale, her chance at a life with Marcus…Elise. Everything she
touched seemed to shatter.

  A cry tore from her. Dear God, would anything in her life ever be whole?

  “What on earth was—” Harriett appeared in the doorway. “Danielle!”

  “I broke it,” she choked out, picking up the case with trembling hands and carefully setting it on her lap. Then, no louder than a breath, “I’ve destroyed everything…”

  “Oh, my darling!” Harriett rushed to her, dropped to the floor beside her, and pulled her into her arms.

  Her sobs came freely now, uncontrollable and wretched. One hand clutched at her aunt, the other protecting what was left of the shattered music box. She shook violently as the crying overwhelmed her.

  “It’s all right,” Harriett whispered, her hand rubbing soothing circles over Dani’s back. “It’s only a music box.”

  Oh, so much more! Her aunt had no idea.

  Harriett’s arms tightened around her, cradling her. “We’ll take it and have it fixed. It will be good as new, I promise.”

  “No,” she shuddered out between gasps. “I’ve ruined it.”

  “Nonsense. Everything can be fixed.” Harriett placed a kiss to Dani’s forehead, then pulled back just far enough to smooth away the hot tears on her cheeks with her palm. “We just have to try.”

  “Not the music box.” Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head. “Marcus…”

  Harriett tensed, but she couldn’t hide her surprise. “The duke? How is he…”

  Broken. The word clawed at her, and she forced out through her tightening throat, “He wants to marry me.”

  “That’s wonderful!” When Dani smothered an anguished sob, Harriett paused and frowned. “Isn’t it?”

  Unable to find her voice, she miserably shook her head.

  “But—but Marcus Braddock is a good and honorable man, with a family you adore and the respect of the empire.” Bewilderment passed over her aunt’s face. “He formally proposed?”

  “Yes.” The most wonderful, most agonizing moment of her life.

  “Then what you have isn’t broken, my dear.” Harriett smiled reassuringly as she cupped Dani’s face between her hands. “He’s offering you a wonderful marriage and a good life.”

  “No,” Dani whispered, her lips trembling as she held back more tears. “He’s demanding an unconditional surrender.”

  She clasped Harriett’s hand, and through uncertain starts and stops, Dani told her about Nightingale. Oh, she’d sworn never to tell Harriett! But now that the words were finally coming, they were pouring out, and the burden she’d carried on her shoulders for the past four years began to lighten.

  Harriett listened silently, although her emotions of shock and surprise were plainly visible on her face. She clutched tightly to Dani’s hand with both of hers, and when Dani dared to tell her about Elise, her fingers tightened so fiercely that Dani winced. But that small pain was nothing compared to the desolation that was devouring her.

  “All this time,” Harriett whispered when Dani finished telling her, ending with how Marcus wanted her to shut down Nightingale and carefully avoiding many other details about what happened between them that she could never bring herself to tell her aunt. “All this time, you’ve been helping these women in secret, all because of me… I had no idea.”

  “You were never supposed to know. I couldn’t tell you.” She lowered her gaze guiltily to their joined hands. “I only wanted to protect you.”

  “Or risk that Nightingale might become fodder for one of my stories,” Harriett admitted with exaggerated chagrin, teasing the way she did to try to ease the pain for both of them. “But I would have changed all the names, I assure you.”

  Despite her tears, Dani couldn’t help the faint smile that curved at her lips. Just as Harriett surely hoped for. “Or risk that you would have wanted to help.”

  “That, too,” she acknowledged with a self-knowing sigh. “But now I know, and I can help by—”

  “No! You’ve already been hurt too much.” Dani brushed her fingertips over the music box on her lap as grief rose inside her. “You shouldn’t have to be exposed to that ever again.”

  “I can help,” her aunt persisted, undaunted, “with you and Marcus.”

  Her shoulders sank in defeat. There was no help for the problem between them.

  “Whatever spats you two have had, I’m certain that it can all be worked out. You just need to do what all women do—realize that it’s ultimately the man’s fault and find a way to forgive him.” She took Dani’s hand in hers and squeezed it reassuringly. “And never stop loving him.”

  “No,” Dani admitted, finally accepting the truth. “It’s no one’s fault.”

  She wanted to save the women, and Marcus wanted to protect her. But in the end, what he was offering was still an ultimatum.

  “Listen to me, my dear.” With a reassuring touch, Harriett brushed the mussed curls off Dani’s forehead. “I made a terrible mistake when I married Bromley. We didn’t love each other, but my parents pressed for the match. He was conservative and terribly old-fashioned, and they thought his influence on me would keep me from being so capricious and spirited. Always dashing ahead without looking—without caring, if truth be told—because the journey was so much fun. And it worked. His control over my life stopped me from being so impulsive.” Her faint smile at her youthful antics faded, and she frowned with distraction at the memory, her fingers stilling at Dani’s temple. “And his fists took care of the rest.”

  Dani wrapped her arms around her aunt. This was why she’d never wanted to tell Harriett about the network. Some memories were best left forgotten.

  “I married a man whom I knew was completely wrong for me,” Harriett told her, “and I suffered because of it. I don’t want the same for you.”

  “That won’t happen to me.” She prayed the resolve in her voice hid the hopelessness engulfing her. “I won’t marry unless I have love.”

  “It seems to me that you won’t marry even when you do.” Aggravation was beginning to replace the sadness in her aunt’s voice. “Marcus Braddock loves you, Danielle.”

  That soft accusation ached. “Love isn’t enough.”

  “No.” Harriett shifted back, and the look of concern on her aunt’s face pierced her. “It’s everything.”

  “Not everything.” Dani stared down at the music box. She brushed her hand over the splintered edge, and a shard of wood scratched across her fingertip. “Not when I have to give up my work to be with him.”

  “I am having a very difficult time faulting a man who wants to keep my niece safe.” She paused, and when she continued, she gave voice to the doubts swirling in Dani’s head. And heart. “Perhaps he is correct. Perhaps it is time that you stopped the vanishings.”

  So many times she’d wished for exactly that! To be able to stop taking risks, both for herself and the women who helped her, to lift the burden from her shoulders—

  How? How did she simply walk away from it all? She’d been doing this for so long now that she simply didn’t know how to stop.

  “I wish…” The anguished confession tore from her. “I wish I could, but…I can’t. I can’t abandon those women.” Or all that Elise had sacrificed.

  “No, darling, not abandon them, but do as Marcus suggested. Turn your efforts and the work of the network into a force for change in Parliament and the courts.”

  If only it were that easy! “What you’re suggesting will take years to enact—if it ever happens at all. Those women don’t have that kind of time.” Her mind turned to the twelve-year-old girl who had been forced into the brothel, who was even now waiting to be raped by a man who was wealthy and powerful enough to pay for the privilege… A frustrated sob tore from her. “They don’t have any time at all.”

  “Then you had better get started.” The resilient and defiant woman Dani loved came through strong and clear in her aunt’s
voice. “Bring their stories into the light and give them a voice. By advocating in Westminster, you can speak for them and speak to them. I can’t help but think how different it would have been if I had known that there were people out there fighting for me. Angels and saviors to keep me from losing hope and feeling all alone. Maybe I would have been strong enough to ask for help sooner.”

  Wearily, Dani shook her head. “It isn’t that simple.”

  “I never said it would be simple.” She took Dani’s chin and lifted her face until she looked at her. “My dear, it will be the fight of your life!”

  Harriett clasped her suddenly and tightly to her, so fiercely that she nearly stole away all the air Dani had managed to regain after her tears had stopped.

  “And you will win it, I know it.” Harriett’s tearful voice trembled in Dani’s ear. “Just as I know that Marcus will help you, that he will be by your side every step of the way. Oh, Danielle!” A plaintive longing filled her voice. “Let him love you.”

  For a long while, Dani didn’t move as thoughts and emotions swirled through her, everything she yearned to possess mixed with grief over all that she would have to surrender. But there were possibilities, too, emerging slowly from the darkness into the light of a new dawn.

  Then, exhaling a self-absolving breath, she whispered, “I will.”

  As Harriett hugged her, the burden she’d carried for the past four years lightened, the grief eased. It didn’t disappear completely—she didn’t think it ever would. But now it could be borne. Because now there existed hope and opportunities for change, a new war to be waged out in the open. One, if given enough time and support, she might just win.

  Harriett released her. She climbed to her feet and helped Dani to hers. The two women embraced one more time before Harriett slipped away toward the door, leaving Dani still holding the music box in her hand.

  “I’ll call for a tray of hot chocolate and biscuits for us,” Harriett told her over her shoulder. Her voice was light, yet Dani saw her hand snake up to swipe at her eyes. “And a hot bath for you, with lots of lavender and salts. That always does wonders to soothe away worries.”