Anthony straightened from his desk and turned to her. “What?”
She moved to him. Her eyes were cold. “I know you can do it. You’ve done it before.”
After hours of fighting for his life, Anthony wondered how he could manage to feel the amount of anger he did at that moment.
Yet there it was. “Is that why you wanted me to court you? Because you wanted me to kill someone for you?”
She waved her hand. “I know you are in love with Lady Beaumont, so I understand that is no longer an option. The quick answer is yes, I did plan to use you in order to get my way, but that is no longer an option. How much do you charge? She’s feeble. Quite old, actually. I’m sure it could be done without much ado. How much?”
Did the woman wish to kill her grandmother?
“I charge nothing. I don’t kill people.” Though he was very tempted to toss her out a window. “Go home.” He thought to turn away again, yet now that he knew how cold-blooded the woman before him was, he didn’t dare.
What could the old woman have done to Lottie? Likely nothing.
He’d suspected Lottie had been spoiled from the beginning. Those who loved her had tried to make up for the deaths of her parents. Now, she repaid them with more suffering.
He made a mental note to tell his butler to send an anonymous message of warning to Lady Colbatch’s home. No one would believe Anthony if he told them the truth. At least with a note, the lady would be informed, and if Lady Colbatch didn’t heed the warning, at least those who found her dead would have a suspect.
Lottie frowned. “You think I can’t afford you? I can.”
Anthony had heard enough, and though he knew it was terrible, he said, “Approach me again and it will be you who vanishes.”
Lottie paled. Her lips parted right before she rushed from the room.
The thought of her own death frightened her but not that of an innocent old woman.
After sending off the anonymous note, which also made note of Lottie’s chaperone’s lack of attention, Anthony started for Denhallow’s home with papers in hand.
He found another set of guards at Denhallow’s residence and skirted the building. He made a distracting noise on one end and when the guard turned to investigate, Anthony crept to the other side and slipped through the window.
The halls in Denhallow’s home were black, but from another part of the house, a light shone.
He followed it, allowing the glow to lead him upstairs.
He stopped once he made it to the dimly lit hall and stilled.
Valiant sat on the floor. Her back was to a door. She turned her head as he appeared. Then she scrambled to her feet. The relief in her blue eyes made his heart ache desperately. “Anthony!”
He took the final step to get to her and wrapped her in his arms, holding her fiercely.
“Anthony.” She pulled away and gasped. “Your face.” She touched his cheek lightly. He’d forgotten about his altercation with Denhallow. He didn’t know what his face looked like, but he knew it couldn’t be worse than Denhallow’s.
As if realizing that fact herself, her hand fell away, and a sad look came over her features. “What are you doing here?” Her gaze lit up. “You’re not supposed to be here. You could get in trouble.”
“I need to speak to Denhallow.”
Valiant shook her head. “He won’t speak to me. He most certainly won’t speak to you. He allowed his servants to leave me in the hall outside his room. They offered me a chair, which I refused. Then a blanket and tea.”
He looked over to see the evidence of both the blanket and the tray of tea. He then turned his gaze to her again. “You shouldn’t be here. It isn’t safe. Whoever attacked Denhallow could return.”
“Denhallow believes you to be the only danger.” She settled her hands on his shoulders. “I thought they’d have taken you to…” She pressed her lips together.
“Mr. Thomas Harris is keeping me.” He picked up her hands and placed kisses against her knuckles. ‘I’m in no danger.” Until the trial.
“Anthony.” Her eyes watered. “I…”
“I’ll allow you to remain if you will be silent….” Denhallow stood in the doorway of his room. He’d taken care to wrap his face from sight. The white bandages spun around his head, leaving only his eyes and mouth exposed. His eyes locked on Anthony and widened. His lips parted, and his gaze widened with equal parts fear and anger.
Then he rushed into his room.
Anthony followed.
“Anthony!” Valiant shouted.
When he reached the door, he saw Denhallow rummaging through his dresser drawers and didn’t think.
He closed the door behind him right before Valiant could enter.
Her fist landed on the wood. It shook with her fury. “Anthony! James! Open this door!”
Denhallow spun around and, as Anthony assumed would happen, there was a pistol in his hand.
Anthony had only had a split second in which to make his decision. He could have run for Denhallow, but then there was a greater chance of Valiant getting hurt during the scuffle that would have likely followed.
Or…
He locked the door and then moved away, slowly, making certain that Valiant would not be harmed. He kept his eyes on Denhallow as he moved.
Denhallow, clearly with enough sense to understand the situation, spoke loudly. “Valiant. Go home. You do not need to be here for this. You do not need to hear when I shoot this man.”
“No!” Valiant screamed. “Open this door right now!”
Denhallow closed his eyes and groaned. He touched his hand to his bandaged temple as if to release some pain.
Anthony wondered why the man was not on an opiate. “Valiant,” he called. “Be silent. You are giving Lord Denhallow a headache.”
“If you hurt him, James…” Her voice trembled. “I will never speak to you again. I swear it, James.”
Silence fell on the other side of the door.
Denhallow settled, relaxed, but his hand still clenched his weapon. He stared at the door and then slowly turned to look at Anthony. “Come to torture me again?”
Anthony’s heart raced. He recalled the way Denhallow had attacked like a wild animal at the ball and wasn’t sure if reasoning with him would work. He wasn’t certain the marquess’ mind hadn’t been broken by all he’d suffered.
But he tried reason. “Denhallow, we nearly fought at the club weeks ago. Do you recall that?”
Denhallow blinked and his eyes hooded. “How could I not? It’s why you had me drugged and chained for weeks! I hope you hang, and not just for me, but for the other lords as well.”
Anthony wanted to ask more about the other lords but decided against doing so at the moment. He was glad Denhallow wished to see him hang. It made it more likely for Anthony to leave this situation alive.
And as luck would have it, Anthony stood by the bell pull in the room, which meant Denhallow could not summon the servants unless he approached Anthony or Anthony moved away first.
It gave them some time.
“Denhallow, if I had wanted you dead, I would have killed you with my own hands. Surely, you know that.”
“You’ll not confuse me!” Denhallow lifted the gun again. “Move or I will shoot.”
Valiant’s gasp rang from the other side of the door. “Oh, Denhallow. Please, don’t! Listen to him.”
Again, Denhallow cringed at her voice. The hand with the gun went to his other temple and he began to rub profusely.
Anthony raised his voice to Valiant, “Darling, you’re not helping.”
“You’re not helping!” Valiant cried. “How dare you tell him how you would have killed him! You can’t argue that you didn’t hurt him, because if you had, you’d have hurt him a different way!”
Anthony turned back to Denhallow and found him staring at the door.
Anthony didn’t like that. He didn’t like the thought of Denhallow anywhere near Valiant in his current state. “Denhallow, yo
u and I are much alike. We both enjoy a challenge. There is no challenge for me if you are chained and otherwise drugged.”
Very slowly, the marquess lowered his arms and looked at Anthony. “Darling? They let you near her?”
The ‘they’ he referenced had to be none other than the Curbain brothers.
He recalled the marquess’ friendship with Lore as well. “Do you truly believe a duke, a military general, and your pretentious friend Lord Lore would have allowed me near her if they didn’t think me worthy?” Anthony had no clue if the men had ever thought him worthy, though he was certain they didn’t now.
The words seemed to have a small effect on Denhallow as he shook his head. “But the others you’ve taken… Lord Ganden. Lord Coldwater.”
“Did you see the other missing lords while you were… gone?” Anthony asked.
Denhallow blinked again. It was almost as if his mind were delayed. “I... “ He closed his eyes. “No.”
“No?” Lore asked. “So, this man who tortured you, this man who claimed I had taken the other lords, he never showed them to you?” He nearly hoped the man had, if only to be closer to finding them.
Denhallow was shaking his head, but Anthony didn’t know if it were in denial or in confusion.
“That man was a liar,” Anthony said. “He knew you were upset with me and decided to blame me for your pain. Do you understand?”
Denhallow kept his eyes closed. “Why should I believe you?”
“Because, he’s not lying,” Valiant sobbed. “James, please listen to him. Anthony had been looking everywhere for you. He’s been working with Lore and my other brothers to find you.”
Anthony didn’t try to quiet her this time.
Denhallow appeared to be thinking.
“How about this? I shoot you in the leg and we call this debt finished.”
“No!” Valiant banged on the door. “Don’t shoot him! I mean it, James! You’ll never see me again.”
Sadness passed in Denhallow’s gaze. “I’ll never see anyone again.”
Because of his face, Anthony reasoned.
The marquess’ face would haunt the minds of those who had seen him for years to come. The pain he must feel from his face was liking nothing compared to the loss of his social existence. He was unmarried and without children. Would he die alone?
And whether Anthony had been the one to carve into Denhallow’s face or not, someone had done so in order to get back at Anthony. Someone had cut Denhallow because of him.
“Do it,” Anthony whispered.
“No!” Valiant’s fist pounded against the wood again. “I’ll call for a night watchman.”
“Don’t!” Anthony told her. Then, in a calmer voice, he said, “If I am found here, I will be sent to Newgate.”
Valiant’s soft weeping came through the door. “James,” she pleaded.
Anthony spoke to the marquess. “What has happened to you is unfair, and though I did not inflict the pain myself, neither did I order it. I have done other things in my life that I regret, so I accept whatever punishment you see fit.”
“Good,” Denhallow said right before he pulled the trigger.
∫ ∫ ∫
4 0
The pain that vibrated through Anthony’s body was like none he’d ever felt before.
He dropped to the floor, stunned by the fact that Denhallow had done it. He’d shot him in the leg.
He looked at the torn flesh in his thigh and watched the hole fill with blood. He hardly registered anything else until soft hands landed on his shoulders.
He looked up to find a blurry Valiant. There were unshed tears in his eyes. She didn’t bother hiding her own.
Denhallow must have opened the door and allowed her in.
“Here.” The marquess held out a cloth.
Valiant snatched it and then began to try and clean up the blood pooling around Anthony’s leg, and a bright red stain bloomed against the once pristinely white cloth. Every touch hurt, but he refused to show it, especially since Valiant was being so careful.
“Ring for the doctor,” Denhallow said to someone in the hall. Then he closed the door and turned back toward Anthony.
“I can’t believe you did this,” Valiant whispered to the man at the door. “He didn’t deserve this!” She looked up at him with venom.
The marquess crossed his arms. “Have you no pity for me, considering my disfigurement?” How very like Denhallow to make a joke at a time like this.
Valiant hesitated and then sighed with resignation. “Very well. We’ll need to clean his wound.”
Denhallow moved across the room and returned with a tumbler of brandy.
Valiant wasted no time drenching Anthony’s leg.
He groaned, and his vision swam when the pain spread through his bones.
Valiant quickly covered the wound with a new cloth.
Anthony sighed and looked her over. He saw the determination in her eyes. “Have you done this before?”
She shook her head. “But I have brothers. I’ve seen the maids attend them before a doctor could arrive.” A lock of golden hair rested by her cheek.
Anthony reached up and tucked it behind her ear.
Valiant moved away and glared at him. “I’m upset with you as well. How dare you encourage him to shoot you? What if you never walk again?” Her voice broke at the end.
“Valiant,” he murmured.
“And my brother is not pretentious,” she quipped.
He grinned. He’d almost forgotten he’d called Lore that. “He has no respect for my rank.”
She said nothing.
He covered the hand that rested on his leg. “Snow.”
She glanced over at him from underneath heavy lashes. Her gaze still narrowed.
“I’ll walk again.” At least he hoped he would. In fact, he hoped to walk out that very night.
“He’ll walk,” Denhallow said as he moved into their line of sight.
Valiant looked at him and then Anthony. “You better.”
He touched her cheek and was glad she didn’t pull away. “Anything for you.”
“We’ll tell the doctor that I invited you over and that you shot yourself,” Denhallow said.
Anthony lifted a brow. He didn’t think any sensible doctor would believe such a tale but knew no other would work, not with the bullet still present in his leg. To Valiant, Anthony said, “You can’t be here when the doctor arrives.”
“I’ll hide in another room until he’s gone,” she agreed.
Rapid footsteps came down the hall.
Denhallow looked out and then turned to them. “He’s here.”
Valiant tucked her hand behind his nape and kissed Anthony with a passion he’d not been prepared for. It was hasty but no less sensual. Then she rushed through a door on the other side of the room right before the doctor arrived.
Denhallow introduced him to Dr. Hall.
Dr. Hall was a mature man who sported his gray locks well. He also did not believe the story the men had concocted but got to work immediately on Anthony’s leg.
“You should take laudanum before I begin,” Dr. Hall suggested.
“No, I need to stay alert,” Anthony said.
Dr. Hall looked between the two men and then shook his head. “Very well.”
Aware that Valiant could hear, Anthony continued to hold back the shouts of pain that shook from the depths of his chest.
He tried to hold on to the feel of her kiss. Thinking of the way her mouth had felt on his and the passion with which she’d touched him helped somewhat.
A half hour later, the bullet was removed, and his leg was stitched and bandaged.
His pants were ruined, but he would live.
“You should rest,” the doctor suggested. “At your own home,” he added after giving Denhallow another look, knowing who the true shooter in the room was.
At the door, Dr. Hall asked the marquess, “Are you sure you don’t wish me to leave you a bottle of laudanum? Th
e work I did on your face will help the gashes heal slightly better than whatever medieval needlework that maid did to you a day ago. However, the pain—”
“I’ll manage without the drugs,” Denhallow said.
Anthony was surprised Denhallow was taking nothing for his pain but should have known it to be so by the very fact that the man was still awake.
Dr. Hall left.
Valiant came out and came to sit by him on the bed, which was where he’d been moved since the doctor’s arrival.
Her expression was somber as she stared at his leg.
“It barely hurts,” he lied. The pain was excruciating enough that he almost called the doctor back for the laudanum. But he wouldn’t. There was too much to be done.
He held out his hand and Valiant moved to rest against him. Her head was cradled on his chest. Her arm went around his abdomen and back.
He inhaled the sweet scent of her hair and felt contentment draw over him like a warm blanket.
Denhallow asked, “How are you not in prison right now?”
* * *
Valiant stiffened against Anthony and then turned to glare at Denhallow. She felt so tired. Fear and desperation had been driving her mind in circles for hours. She was fatigued to the bones yet managed to find the energy to be angry.
There were very few men who ever made Valiant wish she had the strength to throttle them, yet even bandaged, Denhallow managed to provoke a wildness in her. She tightened her hold on Anthony and burrowed closer.
Anthony’s hand rested on her shoulder and he squeezed her, silencing whatever words she’d been prepared to say. “A barrister has been kind enough to house me until a trial date can be set.”
Denhallow leaned against the door. He reminded her of a drawing of an Egyptian mummy she’d once seen in the papers. Some believed the ancient corpse to have been royalty.
Staring at Denhallow, it was clear he was a man of great power. It rested there in his eyes. The one that had been swollen shut had managed to open somewhat. The black orbs watched with lucid control.
“You were looking for me?” Denhallow asked.
“You should see his office,” Valiant said before Anthony could stop her. “He’s been looking for all of you. He’d been looking for Mr. Goody for seven years and only managed to find him last week.”
The Last Duke (The Valiant Love Regency Romance) (A Historical Romance Book) Page 21