The Last Duke (The Valiant Love Regency Romance) (A Historical Romance Book)

by Deborah Wilson

  Anthony squeezed her shoulder. “She’s right. I was in Stevenage a week ago. That was where I found Mr. Goody.”

  “I was in Stevenage,” Denhallow said. “I was taking a meal at Merrill Inn when I became dizzy and nearly ill. I can’t remember who helped me to my carriage, but when I awoke, I was chained in a basement.”

  Valiant’s heart went out for Denhallow. No one deserved that. “How terrible. What sort of person would do this?”

  “I don’t know,” Denhallow said. “I wondered the same for weeks until the man who would visit began to speak about Anthony.”

  “He only spoke of me recently then?” Anthony asked.

  Denhallow nodded. “Until that moment, I’d been almost sure that the man who kept me in chains and drugged me was working for himself. The maid feared him. He’d never spoken of anyone else aside from his other ‘guests.’ He mentioned them often and kept saying that if I cooperated, I would be allowed to join them.”

  Valiant said, “So, whoever took you also took the other men.”

  Denhallow held her eyes. “We are not yet in agreement that the man you cling to is not the one who ordered my torture.”

  “It wasn’t him!” Valiant said.

  Anthony pulled her closer. “Do you think the others alive?”

  “I did until he cut me.” There was a dark edge in Denhallow’s voice. “Everything from that moment became different. I’d been cooperating. I’d have done anything to leave the basement, to stop him from drugging my meals.” He shook his head. “I don’t even know if I should be telling you this. You likely already know everything.”

  Valiant remained silent, but let her eyes show her building rage.

  Anthony asked, “Could you hear any noise from the basement?”

  “None.” Denhallow scratched over a bandage and winced. “Occasionally, actually. I would hear something like a wild animal. A roar. Then I would hear things break, but it wasn’t often. I likely heard it once or twice.”

  “So, you were kept in a private home,” Anthony said. “Do you know how long the journey from the inn to the house was?”

  “No. It could have been days for all I know.” Then something flashed in Denhallow’s eyes. A memory? “It wasn’t even a day. I recall the next morning. The maid mentioned something to my keeper about washing clothes yesterday. I recall the actual date being mentioned in the discussion.”

  Valiant’s heart raced, sure they were getting closer to the truth than Anthony had ever been.

  The man who held her began to draw circles on her arm with his fingers, though she was sure he was unaware of it as he spoke. “What was the maid’s name? Do you recall?”

  Denhallow slowly moved to a chair. “Give me a reason I should say anything more?”

  “Because something cruel was done to you,” Anthony said. “And we can either waste our time blaming each other or we can find the others before they suffer a moment longer.”

  The men stared at one another.

  Valiant held her breath in the long silence.

  Denhallow leaned forward on his knees. “He only ever called her Harlot, but I doubt that to be her name.”

  A truce?

  “Do you think she worked at Merrill Inn?” Anthony asked.

  “I doubt it.” There was a softness in his gaze. “She was a victim, too. I didn’t realize it until I was gone.” He lifted his gaze. “We have to find her and the others.”

  “Then we go to Stevenage,” Anthony said.

  Valiant leaned away and looked at him. “You can’t. You must stay with Mr. Harris until the trial.”

  “There will be no trial,” Denhallow said. “I’ll drop the charges against you.”

  Valiant felt Anthony’s body go taut. “Thank you.”

  Denhallow’s eyes remained menacing. “But if I find that you’ve been behind this all along, I’ll shoot you again, and this time, it won’t be in the leg.”

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  4 1

  Anthony tried to ignore the pain as he walked into the Merrill Inn. The dark foyer with its heady fragrances let the visitor know just what sort of place they’d entered. The hall was dark, as though in an effort to mask the filth. How anyone could want to visit the women, much less enter an establishment of this kind, was beyond Anthony.

  As if reading his thoughts, Denhallow said, “The other inn nearby was full. I was left little choice.”

  Anthony, when he’d visited, had simply hung around and played cards with the other gentlemen who’d come through. He’d also ordered drinks, but not once had he dared to drink or eat anything that was offered to him. He gave it away to other men.

  He didn’t trust this place or the people who worked here.

  In the main hall, noise greeted them. The pianoforte, which had likely been out of tune for years, was ringing high from a corner. A man played while a lady was draped across the instrument.

  Only a few of the tables in the room were occupied.

  It was early.

  The sounds of vigorous activity thumped from up above as the men moved farther into the room.

  For a man who’d shared his body with more women than he could count, he couldn’t help but find this place nauseating every time he entered.

  The inn was not on the main road. One had to be given directions to it from another inn or one of the local people.

  A maid was cleaning the tables.

  Another woman stood behind a counter.

  “Do you recognize anyone?” Anthony asked.

  Denhallow shook his head and moved to take a table. “He let me see the maid’s face,” the marquess said as Anthony took a seat. His eyes were trained on a wall in the distance as he spoke. “He let me see her face. If I’d ever been set free, he had to have known I’d be able to point her out if I ever saw her again.” He turned to Anthony with cold eyes. “Which meant he never intended to let me go.”

  “No, he didn’t,” Anthony agreed. “Yet somehow you managed to get out.”

  “The maid perhaps,” Denhallow said. “Or maybe he sent me out knowing I’d seek vengeance and kill you.”

  Anthony nodded and rubbed his leg. “Perhaps.”

  “What can I get you fine men?” the maid asked.

  Denhallow looked up and froze. “Chocolate,” he said a second later. “Chocolate for my wealthy friend as well.”

  The maid with green eyes and rich blond hair had been staring at Anthony as she spoke but now she looked him over. “Chocolate? Expensive drink.”

  “We’re expensive men,” Denhallow said.

  The maid smiled before she turned away.

  Once she was gone, Denhallow said, “She’s the one who served me the last time I was here. I remember thinking her too pretty to just be a maid.”

  It was likely that in a place like this, the maid offered her body as well.

  “Why did you mention I was wealthy?” Anthony asked.

  “I want to know if she’ll do something to your cup,” Denhallow said. “When I woke, as you can imagine, my money was gone as well.”

  She came back with the chocolate. The men told the maid they wished for nothing and then watched her move away.

  Denhallow took both cups and sniffed. Then he took a sip from both and winced before spitting it out. “You can’t hide the bitterness of an opiate in something this sweet.”

  That was true. Between ale and coffee, one could mask the drug, but not in chocolate.

  Denhallow stood. “You stay. I’ll deal with the maid.” His gaze looked possessed.

  Anthony wanted to protest, but his leg throbbed louder. “Be careful.”

  Denhallow disappeared, then returned sometime later. “I have directions to a house. This may be it.”

  Anthony stood and limped back to the carriage.

  Once inside, Denhallow looked him over. “Perhaps, I should have shot you in the arm.”

  Anthony was sweating and breathing heavier than he wished to. “What did you do to the maid?”

>   “I left her somewhere I could retrieve her again if she lied to us.” Denhallow looked blankly out the window. There was not a shadow of guilt or regret in his gaze.

  They arrived at a house less than an hour’s ride away,

  a grand residence with Queen Anne architecture. The burgundy house peaked at its sides and its center and was trimmed white around the windows and along the roof.

  There was nothing to give the impression that a man had been held captive there.

  If Anthony had seen it from the road, he’d have imagined a well-to-do family resided there. A mother, father, and their darling girls. A happy family.

  The image was so far from anything he’d had as a child.

  He’d had his mother’s love, but his father’s jealousy and anger crushed whatever happiness others tried to cultivate within him.

  He thought about Valiant and how that chance of happiness had also been ripped from him.

  Unless he could prove to the world that he was innocent.

  His innocence had never mattered as much as it did now that he was in love.

  Denhallow instructed the driver to drive into a line of trees a short distance away. They didn’t wish to alert the home’s owner of their arrival.

  Denhallow looked Anthony over again. “Are you certain you can manage the walk? I can go alone.”

  “I’ve waited years for this,” Anthony patted his coat to make certain his pistol rested in a way that would go unseen. “I’ll not let a crippled leg stop me.”

  He pushed through the pain. The journey to the house, which for a man with two good legs would have been nothing, was a great journey to a man with only one that wished to cooperate.

  By the time they reached the back door, Anthony was drenched with his own sweat.

  Denhallow didn’t knock. He simply opened the door.

  They barely made it past the kitchen before they were greeted with a sight that took Anthony great effort to understand.

  The table in the dining room had been set with great finery. Candles, linens, and china had been laid out with great care.

  Two men sat on either side of the table. Four in all.

  At first, he couldn’t understand what he was seeing.

  The men did not fit the setting. Their clothes were of poor quality, their faces covered with beards, their hair untamed. But those eyes. Anthony recognized them from the portraits that hung in his office.

  The men looked at him and Denhallow.

  Lord Ganden turned back to Anthony and narrowed his green eyes. “Cartelle? Is that you?”

  They were all here. Coldwater. Fawley, Astlen, and Ganden. They were alive.

  Ganden’s face bore marks of a fight, bruised eyes, a gash, but the others seemed fine.

  Denhallow pulled out his pistol. “Where is the man who caught you all?”

  “Not here,” Lord Fawley said with caution in his blue gaze. His eyes were trained on Denhallow’s gun.

  “That’s Lord Denhallow. Ignore the bandages. He was kidnapped as well,” Anthony said.

  “We’ve come to free you,” Denhallow added.

  The room relaxed.

  “Thank God,” the Duke of Astlen said. “Hurry and unchain us.”

  Unchain?

  Anthony used the table for balanced and moved closer.

  It was then he saw the chains.

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  4 2

  Anthony also noticed that the table and chairs were made of metal and bolted to the floor. The setting gave the illusion that the men wished to be here, but the truth lay evident underneath. They were, in fact, in a prison.

  Their hands and feet were bound to the chairs. Another chain went around their chests, keeping them in place. They’d have never been able to free themselves as they were.

  “Where is the key?” Denhallow asked.

  A woman with a tray came in.

  She gasped at seeing Anthony and Denhallow and dropped the tray.

  Denhallow pointed the gun at her. “Harlot.”

  She froze.

  Anthony stilled and prepared for Denhallow to kill the woman.

  But instead, he said, “Where are the keys?”

  She didn’t move. “In my p-pocket.” She was young, or at least appeared to be very young. And very frightened. Her eyes were a golden hazel that filled with tears. Her hair, black, was pulled away from her face. “P-please.”

  “Put the key on the table,” Denhallow said.

  The woman rushed to obey even as her tears spilled over. Her fingers shook.

  The Earl of Genden groaned and then roared. The sound was beastly. The cords in his might neck strained. His eyes were trained on Harlot, and Anthony was sure that if the man could have, he’d have snapped her neck. His temper was legendary. It was reason enough that no one in the ton had wanted to look for him.

  “You can’t let her go!” the earl shouted.

  The keys fell out of the Harlot’s hand, but she quickly picked them up and moved to the other side of the table. Fear had stopped the tears. Her gaze remained on Ganden as she reached out and slowly placed the keys on the table.

  The Earl of Ganden jumped toward her, the chains holding him back.

  The maid screamed and jumped away, pressing her back into the table.

  Denhallow turned to her. “Go.”

  She looked around the room and whispered, “I’m sorry.” Then she looked at Ganden and seemed to want to say more but quickly fled after that.

  The earl’s eyes tracked her.

  Then someone else filled her place.

  Hero walked into the room and looked around. His presence was such a shock that Anthony was sure the pain in his leg had created the hallucination.

  “I saw you and Denhallow at the inn and followed.” Hero looked around, amazed.

  Anthony took a seat. He was no longer able to stand. His leg was also bleeding, which led him to believe he’d torn his stitches. “General Hero Curbain, I present to you, His Grace, the Duke of Astlen. The Most Honorable Marquees of Fawley. The Right Honorable Earl of Ganden.”

  Ganden groaned again and Anthony had a feeling these were the animal sounds Denhallow had heard from the basement.

  “And finally,” Anthony went on. “The Right Honorable Viscount of Coldwater.”

  Coldwater bowed his head but said nothing. He’d not said a thing since the men had entered the room.

  Hero put his pistol away and still looked dazed. “Who chained you like this?”

  “And why?” Denhallow asked.

  Anthony moved to the keys, but Denhallow passed him the pistol instead and then went about unlocking the men.

  With freedom on the horizon, it appeared that the Marquess of Fawley had managed to cultivate an air of dignity. “I believe the gentleman’s name is Mr. John Goody.”

  That got Anthony’s attention. “Are you sure?”

  For the first time, Lord Astlen spoke. His voice was cool, lacking any of the charm he was noted for. “Oh, we’re quite sure who he was. The man would not stop saying his name or telling us to call him Lord Goody.” He narrowed his eyes. “He was obsessed.”

  Fawley thanked Denhallow for releasing his wrist and said, “The chap wanted respect so badly that he went about stealing lords to give it to him.”

  Anthony had trouble believing all of this to be true, yet he thought everything made sense now. The questions Denhallow had been asked about his superior upbringing, the setting of the table, the audience Goody had chosen…

  The boy was sick in the head.

  Ganden was unchained last and shot to his feet. “I’m going after her.”

  “No,” Denhallow said. “We don’t have time. We must get back to London. Everyone has been looking for you.”

  Fawley continued to work his wrist. “You shouldn’t have sent the maid away so quickly. I could use a bath before my return.”

  “When I find her,” Ganden began.

  “Later,” Hero said. “From your appearance, I can tell t
hat you have no money to hunt her properly. Come. We go to London. Set your mind to rights and then go after her.”

  Ganden seemed to want to fight. But then he looked down at his bare feet, plain — too short— trousers, and wrinkled shirt before he fisted his hands. “Very well. We go to London.”

  Since Hero had also come in a carriage, there was enough room for all the men to fit comfortably for the journey back to London.

  Ganden and Denhallow aided Anthony out. Ganden did most of the work.

  Anthony slept some of the way back while Denhallow filled the men in on what had happened within London Society since each of their disappearances.

  Coldwater had been missing for four years, which was the longest. He listened with an expression that said he was absorbing every word.

  Thankfully, none of the men had needed updates on current news since Mr. Goody had provided each of men with papers while they were gone.

  “He wanted us to engage in discussions with him,” Ganden explained. “We were to treat him as though nothing were amiss. We were gentlemen at a party and not men chained to chairs.”

  “He’ll be arrested once we return,” Denhallow said. Then he turned to Anthony. “Shame I won’t be having to shoot you again. I was looking forward to it.”

  * * *

  Valiant and her sisters-in-law rushed the front door as Hero came in.

  She was surprised he’d returned so soon. She’d spent the night at the home she’d once shared with Noah.

  While the exterior had been done in much the same fashion, the interior had been transformed.

  Her cousin-in-law, Levander Chase, had redesigned every room.

  “I thought you’d be more comfortable this way,” he’d told her at her arrival. “But if there was anything you wish to keep from before, I can have a maid get it from the attic.”

  She and Levander were not close, but last night she’d hugged him in gratitude.

  She’s slept easier than she’d believed she would, but in the morning had informed the current Lord Beaumont that she wished to sell the property to him.