Quiet, intimate, and full of love. The soft glow of candles all about them as they said their vows.
Her sisters and cousin were there. And his friends. But that was it. They’d had a simple wedding breakfast and then they’d departed for his home.
It was one of the two properties he’d been bequeathed, and he hadn’t been lying when he’d said it needed work. But it was going to be her home, and she loved it.
He hadn’t even given her a tour as he carried her up the stairs and into the main bedroom and this time, there was nothing soft or gentle about the way they made love. They clung to each other as their bodies expressed the love in their hearts.
When they’d finished making love, they lay together. It was Dylan who broke the silence first. “Where shall our first adventure be?”
She laughed, lifting her head. “I’m fairly certain we’re in the midst of the greatest adventure of our lives.”
“True,” he answered, stroking a hand down her back. “But you said you wished to travel and…” He gave her a long, slow kiss.
Eliza’s heart hummed. “I did say that, didn’t I?” She took a deep breath. “Truth be told, I do have a few ideas.”
“Really?” He sat up, pulling her into his lap. “Do tell.”
“How do you feel about France? Or India? Or the Orient?” She nibbled her lip as she watched his brow knit together in confusion.
“I’m not certain I understand? I thought you wished to see America?”
“I do.” She drew in a breath. “You need a way to bring in revenue to rebuild the marquisate. I need to feel like I am not sitting at home. What do you think about taking the helm of my father’s business? I know Bash doesn’t want to run Isabella’s share. And neither Emily nor Abigail have any interest. We could—”
But she wasn’t able to finish. “You are the bravest, most intelligent, most beautiful woman I have ever met.”
She smiled against his lips. “And I could never imagine doing something like this without you.”
He reached for her hand, twining their fingers together. “I love you, Eliza, and now that we are together, I can’t imagine my life without you. You make me…” he paused, leaning back to look in her eyes. “You make me a better man.”
She reached up and ran her hand through his hair. “You make me better too, Dylan. I thought I wanted to walk this world alone on some great adventure, but it turns out, the fun is wherever you are.”
He grinned as he kissed her again. She’d found her home.
A fortnight later…
* * *
Dylan sat behind a curtain at the Den of Sins, Eliza at one side, Bash at the other. He watched as Isabella, dressed as a man, dealt another round of cards. She’d been working the tables for a week in disguise.
The brown coat she wore made her shoulders appear larger and Abigail had dusted her face with ash to give her the appearance of whiskers.
“Dishonor hasn’t come,” Eliza whispered, tapping her foot. “This plan isn’t working.”
Dylan reached for her hand. He and Bash had been watching the warehouse, but they’d seen no sign of Dishonor.
Before Isabella and Bash had married, Isabella had worked here in disguise to keep her sisters fed. Dishonor had come here to give her money and they’d hoped he’d come again…
“Maybe he knows we’re onto him,” Bash growled. “When I get my hands on him.”
“We don’t know that he did anything,” Eliza replied.
“You’re right. It’s just odd that he disappeared just as Dylan saw his partner stealing.” Bash grunted. “And if I were honest, I want to take my frustration out on someone. He seems like a good candidate.”
Dylan squeezed her fingers. “I totally understand. But I find it difficult to believe he’s the thief. He saved the women, he told them of their inheritance. He might only come when the girls need him. Which, with us in their lives, they don’t.”
“The solicitor hasn’t heard from him either. Not for days,” Bash added with a frown.
“Thanks to the stewards,” Eliza murmured, “shipments are going out. And he shut down those two lines like he said he would. I’ve triple-checked the books, the logs, and the actual shipments. No more goods or money is missing.”
Dylan shook his head. “That can’t be the end can it? We still don’t know for certain who was behind anything. I told the king what I know, but I’m not able to actually identify either Dishonor or the Scot.” He scratched his chin. “Perhaps they were behind it after all. Now that we’re getting close, they’ve disappeared.”
“Or.” Bash looked at Eliza and frowned. He still had trouble speaking freely in front of her at times. “The Scot killed both Malcolm and Dishonor.”
Eliza shivered next to him. “But he can’t hurt us, can he? This Scot? He doesn’t have access to the business?”
“Not that I can find in any of the paperwork,” Bash said as he lifted the curtain a bit higher to watch Isabella. “So, perhaps, it really is over with. I hope Dishonor isn’t dead, but I’d love to call this mystery closed. Your uncle is gone, the business isn’t losing any more money, and—”
Then he stopped talking as his gaze swung toward the door. “Damn it all to bloody hell!”
Dylan followed Bash’s eyes. Standing in the doorway in the Den of Sins was Dishonor. Bleeding. Badly.
“It’s not over yet,” Eliza said as she stood. Without another word, she linked her hand with his and raced from the hidden room and out onto the floor. They weren’t done with their adventure, and he had the feeling Dishonor was about to play a key role. He looked at his wife; with her by his side he was ready for whatever the future would bring.
Duke of Dishonor
Lords of Scandal
* * *
Tammy Andresen
Duke of Dishonor
January 1821
London
* * *
Emily Carrington sat in the parlor, well, one of many, at the home of the Duke of Devonhall. Her soon-to-be brother-in-law. She supposed this was about to be her sister’s home too but as she looked around at the opulence, she couldn’t quite believe it.
The past six months had felt like a nightmare…and then a fairytale. But that came later…
Emily’s father ran a successful shipping company and he travelled often. Her chest tightened and she swallowed. At least, she hoped he still ran the shipping company. He’d left on a trip much like any other, well more than a year ago. Or had it been closer to two? It was hard to keep track with all the madness.
The real trouble began when their mother passed. As if such an event would not break the spirits of four young women, their father never came home. He didn’t write to them, he didn’t return, and they weren’t even sure he was alive.
He usually travelled regular routes that allowed them, under normal circumstances, to communicate by letter. But they’d not heard a word in more than six months. Not since their mother’s death.
Emily covered her mouth with her hand, ignoring the babble of her sisters in the background.
As if all this weren’t enough, their uncle, the only male relative they had in England, had been systematically attempting to steal their father’s shipping business for years.
Which meant, not only were they orphans, but they had to hide their father’s disappearance from the one man who was supposed to help them.
She shivered in revulsion. Uncle Malcolm was supposed to protect them and instead he’d left them in a complete state of penury. They’d been defenseless and destitute. Alone and afraid.
She wrapped her arms about herself. Her sisters Isabella and Eliza had kept them fed, clothed, warm and now Isabella would surely marry a duke. They were saved.
What had Emily done all this time to help her family? Not a thing. Just two years younger than Isabella and three below Eliza, she might as well be a child, rather than a woman of twenty. She’d been at the mercy of the world and reliant on her sisters’ wit and wiles whi
le she’d been helpless.
She’d smiled and hugged in support as she’d allowed her two older, stronger sisters to face danger time and again while she stayed home to care for Abigail.
Isabella was exceptionally talented mathematically while Eliza was one of the bravest people she knew. What was Emily? Pretty, they said. Kind. But that wasn’t special or interesting.
She sighed to herself as Isabella raced into the room where Emily sat with Eliza and Abigail, their youngest sister. Isabella was pale, a note clutched in her hand.
Eliza stood. “What’s wrong?”
Emily’s heart thudded in her chest as Isabella covered her mouth with one hand. Then she dropped it again. “There’s been a fire. On one of Papa’s ships. Bash wants us to meet him at our home.” Then she cleared her throat. “I mean at father’s home. This is our home now.” And she gave a skeptical glance around the room.
The Duke of Devonhall had hired a woman to pose as their Scottish aunt in order to launch them into society and find them husbands. The imposter Aunt Mildred sat in a chair next to a fire, largely ignoring the girls. But at the mention of the duke, her head snapped up. Emily had to give the woman credit on one account. She was singularly loyal to her employer.
“Then let’s go.” Aunt Mildred waved her hand, gesturing them forward. “We mustn’t keep His Grace waiting.”
“I think this is a mistake,” she whispered, her gaze narrowing. Just this morning the Duke of Devonhall told them not to leave the house. Their uncle had threatened to sell them at auction to the highest-bidding husband. She shuddered inwardly and a cold fist clamped around her heart. Not a fate she relished.
But her sisters were in a flurry of conversation and neither acknowledged nor heeded her comment. Perhaps they hadn’t heard at all but a quarter hour later, they were all seated in the carriage, bustling off to their Cheapside home.
Her feeling of unease didn’t lessen. In fact, her trepidation only grew. Why hadn’t she tried harder to be heard?
Not sure what else to do, she reached for Isabella’s hand, her eyes meeting her sister’s. Why hadn’t she objected more loudly? Insisted they stay home? Because she was meek, easing people’s fears rather than acting on her own.
Isabella stared back. “We should stop,” she said, squeezing Emily’s hand. Then she banged on the wall and the carriage slowed. Isabella was the most like Emily and their thoughts were in line now. Emily sighed with relief, giving Isabella a nod of confirmation. This trip was a mistake.
“Isabella?” Eliza asked, looking over at her as the carriage slowed. “What is it?”
“This doesn’t feel right,” Isabella answered. “Something is off. I can feel—”
“Who are you and what do you want?” the driver called as the carriage lurched forward again.
The girls gasped and Isabella fell back into her seat even as Emily fell toward her, bracing herself on Isabella’s legs.
“Stop that carriage or we’ll shoot,” a stranger’s voice called.
Emily squeaked out a tiny scream, fear pounding through her veins. She clutched her sister’s hand harder as she silently berated herself for not acting as she knew she should. Why hadn’t she sounded an alarm sooner?
The carriage turned even as it picked up speed. They were clearly making a getaway and all the women tried to brace themselves as Eliza cried out when her head hit the wood frame.
Suddenly a shot rang out and the driver screamed. A thud followed and Emily squeezed her eyes shut. “Did someone just shoot the driver?” She asked but no one answered. The next series of questions, she kept to herself but inwardly, her thoughts spun. Had he fallen? What was happening out there? Were random thugs attacking their carriage or was this the work of their uncle?
“Come on out, ladies,” the voice called again. The man’s tone dripped with barely concealed irritation. “There is someone who’d like to visit with you.”
Aunt Mildred let out a gasp. “This is not part of the job.”
“Aunt Mil—"
She waved them off. “My name is Caroline. I quit.”
“You’re quitting now?” Eliza huffed as she grabbed up an umbrella, holding it in front of her like a sword.
Isabella straightened. “I accept your resignation. You may leave the carriage now.”
Emily turned to glare at the older woman. So much for her loyalty to the duke. A chastisement rose to her lips but she pushed it back down. Her sisters had already done the job of expressing their dissatisfaction. Mildred, or Caroline, or whatever they were calling her, made no move to get out and instead, shrunk further into the bench.
Abigail gave a quick laugh as the older woman turned pale, but that voice called again. “If you’re thinking you can escape, you should know there’s a man out here for each of you to make certain you’re escorted to your host.”
“It was a trap,” Eliza whispered. “That note wasn’t from Bash, was it?”
Bash was the duke’s nickname, one that suited him perfectly. Emily looked between her sisters, wondering how they might possibly get out of this mess. “I should have spoken up earlier. I knew this was a mistake but I…”
“No,” Isabella answered. “I should have known. I’ve just never seen his handwriting.”
Eliza frowned. “It’s not either of your faults. But the question now is, do we stay in or get out as they’re requesting?”
“Stay in,” Abigail inserted. “Don’t be a fool.”
“But then they can just drive off with all of us in this carriage.” Emily pointed out, lifting her finger in the air. Abigail gave her a look halfway between quizzical and irritated. Emily understood why. She rarely spoke up in these sorts of situations. But then again, not talking hadn’t helped them at all. Look at where they were in this moment. If only she’d shared her fears earlier, perhaps they’d have been better off.
“Ladies,” the voice called again. It held a sing-song quality that made Emily start in fear. “Time to come out.”
“Eliza.” Isabella turned to their eldest sister, her voice low. “One of us needs to climb out and make it to the driver’s seat to get the carriage out of here.”
“How close are the men? How many of them are there?” Eliza asked as she looked out the window.
Emily could see her sisters forming a plan. As usual, they were jumping to aid their family.
Shame washed through Emily. How could she allow them to put themselves in danger time and again while she stood on the sidelines? Because they’d always taken care of her, protecting her from harm. And yes. She appreciated their concern and love, but at twenty years of age, she was more than capable of assisting them. Now, more than ever, she wanted to find a way to prevent anything like what had happened after their mother died from reoccurring. She looked out her own window, trying to assess the danger. Trying to figure out a way to help.
Abigail peaked through one curtain. “I see two. Ten or fifteen paces away.”
“I see three,” Emily said. “Two further back and one right next to the door.”
Eliza nodded. “Ok, I’ll bash that one with my umbrella and then Isabella will climb into the driver’s seat and whisk you all to safety before the others can reach us.”
“But what if he grabs you?” Isabella asked.
Emily watched Eliza as cold fear flickered across her eldest sister’s face before she carefully masked it. That was Eliza. Brave, bold, and willing to sacrifice for her family.
“I can’t have you being the only hero,” Eliza said as the door rattled. Any moment now their attacker would have the carriage door open.
Isabella tightened her grip on the door. “Eliza. You’re not likely to climb back in if—”
“I’ll be fine.” Eliza grabbed the handle too. Then she whispered, “Get our sisters to safety and marry that duke. They need him and so do you.”
Emily grabbed the handle too, pushing Eliza’s hand away. Eliza could not sacrifice herself today, their sisters needed Eliza alive and well. Emi
ly, with startling clarity, realized that she was completely dispensable. “Give me that umbrella.” Then she snatched the pole from Eliza’s hand. With a quick breath of air, she pushed the door open. “Now!” she yelled.
The door swung out and, with all three of their weights behind it, Emily felt the moment that the wooden panel hit the attacker.
He grunted, stumbling back and Emily jumped out, hitting him with the umbrella. The force of it rattled through her body, but she didn’t stop as Isabella followed her out, scrambling to the front of the carriage and onto the seat. She saw other men rushing toward them, and her hands shook as she turned, wielding Eliza’s umbrella like a sword.
But the first man had recovered, and he grabbed her from behind, holding her in his beefy grip. A scream ripped from her lips.
Eliza had also climbed out and jumped on the man’s back, clawing at him and attempting to wrench Emily out of his grip. For her part, Emily tried to twist away but his hands were so strong she couldn’t escape.
Another man barreled toward Emily and for a moment, another scream built in her throat. What would the two men do to her and her sister? How had she ever thought she was strong enough for this?
But this new man yelled, “Go!” And then he swung his fist, hitting the attacker with a force that sent the man sprawling to the ground. The hit jarred through Emily even as Eliza jumped out of the way.
Isabella gasped from the bench. “You!”
In an instant, their hero pushed Eliza through the open door, and she fell to the carriage floor. “Go!” he yelled again and then grabbed up Emily around the waist, clutching her to his chest as he reached for the back of the carriage.
Distantly, she heard Aunt Mildred give a shriek as Abigail leaned out and slammed the carriage door shut again.
Emily could barely register a detail except that the moment her body tucked against his, his strong arm circling her waist, she felt…safe. She wrapped her arms about his neck and tucked her head against his shoulder, completely protected by his large strong frame.
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