Taking her by the arm, he pulled her into the hallway, and quietly closed the door. “I expect you know we had an intruder,” he said, his voice low.
Unable to speak, her body shaking with reaction from nearly killing the Duke, Lucretia could only nod. “I—I.” She could not go on. Her hair falling over her face, she felt sick. He must have understood her distress, for his arms closed around her, pulling her into his chest. Lucretia leaned against him, her arms creeping around his strong back, holding him close as she trembled.
“It will be all right,” he murmured, soothing. “We chased him off, you are safe. I am going to keep you safe.”
Listening to his heart beat and his calming words, wrapped in his embrace, it was quite a long while before Lucretia’s shaking stopped. When at last she felt she could raise her face, she offered him a wan smile, and received one in return. “I could have shot you,” she murmured.
“But you did not.” His hand tenderly pulled her hair away from her face. You recognized me in time. Now I know why it was an excellent idea to teach you how to use this.”
He lifted the pistol, smiling at her. “Had he succeeding in breaking through the door, he would be dead right now.”
Still finding it difficult to talk, Lucretia merely nodded. The Duke bent his face to hers, kissing her lips, his tongue probing her mouth. She welcomed his kiss, opening up to him, her tongue dancing with his, entwined. She breathed in his powerful, masculine scent, his body hard against hers. Her love for him rose, swelling, growing with every beat of her heart.
Fear rose as well, fear that he could not find it in him to love her in return. That despite what appeared to be love on his part for her, he would ultimately reject her, and one day bring to the house a well-bred bride.
What will I do then? Watch him love another, sire offspring with another woman?
She pulled away from him, trying to smile, to hide her panic. Reaching up, she caressed his bristly cheek, and the smear of dried blood over his skin.
“You are hurt,” she murmured.
He smiled down at her, planting a kiss on her forehead. “It is nothing, my love.”
Lucretia froze, her heart beating fast. “What did you call me?”
He chuckled, his knuckles stroking down her face. “My love. It seems appropriate, for I fear I have fallen deeply in love with you. Lucretia.”
Her lips trembled uncontrollably as joy filled her heart anew. “Oh, Your—Sampson, I have fallen in love with you, too. I was so afraid you could not love me in return.”
“I believe you bewitched me,” he said, smiling down at her, his green eyes filled with tenderness. “You and your witch’s locks.”
He lifted her hair in his fingers, bringing it to his face to breathe in its scent. “Such incredible beauty,” he said, kissing her lightly on her lips. “So much courage, and fire, and love in you.”
Pressing her head against his chest, she sighed. “You are a dream come true.”
“I never thought I would grow up to become someone’s dream come true,” he said, chuckling, his chest vibrating under her cheek.
Footsteps clicking on the tiled floor brought their heads up and their attention from each other. Lucretia froze, fearing for a moment the intruder had come back. Sampson also turned, his body now tense. Lucretia recognized James hurrying toward them at the same instant Sampson relaxed and said, “Is all well downstairs, James?”
“I came to ask the same thing of you up here,” he said, a slow grin forming. “I feared for you, you were gone so long. But now I know why.”
Lucretia snuggled close under his arm as he draped his strong arm over her shoulder. “Yes,” he said, “I finally realized I love this little lady. Right after she almost blew my head off.”
James blinked. “Oh. Well, that is a story I must hear. However, I also came to tell you that Jack Hopper was killed.” James’ voice hardened. “He was stabbed in the back by a coward. Of all the –” He stopped, glancing at Lucretia as though wishing he could finish what he wanted to say, but dared not. “He was a good lad.”
Sampson’s fists clenched. “Whoever killed him will feel my wrath before this is over. By God, I swear it. Do you know if he has family? If so, I wish them to be notified before he is buried.”
“I will find out, Your Grace. Mr. Kelley and I will patrol the rest of the night, if you wish to get some sleep.”
Lucretia glanced up at him as Sampson nodded. He gazed down at her and handed the pistol back into her hand.
“I suppose you should keep this,” he said, “though I doubt the intruder will return.”
“There is still the enemy,” she replied, taking it, “though they are no doubt the one and the same.”
“I agree.”
Sampson kissed her again, cupping his hand under her chin, then smiled at her. “Get some rest.”
“I will try.”
Sampson waited until she went back inside, watching her, a half-smile lighting his face. She closed the door, then bolted it, and heard his muffled voice through the door. “I will see you in the morning.”
Leaning with her back against it, Lucretia listened to their footsteps return down the hallway. Mired in a mixture of extreme emotions, she felt happiness and bliss, yet fear still stalked her soul. I came within a hair of shooting the man I love. And the groom I put in harm’s way is now dead. She wished he had not taught her to shoot, nor given her the dragon, for with it came a tremendous responsibility she did not want. Yet, had he not, who would protect Henrietta, if not me?
Passing Rosemary, still snoring on her pallet, Lucretia walked on silent feet to her own narrow bed. She set the pistol down next to it, then checked on Henrietta in her huge four-poster bed hung with light blue satin drapes. She stood over the sleeping girl, her heart filled with love, and prayed for the strength to protect her.
Returning to her own bed, she lay down. It was a long time before she slept.
* * *
Lucretia thought to continue eating alone while Sampson and Henrietta ate their breakfast with the Lords Gillinghamshire and Egerton. However, Sampson had other ideas. He found her headed toward the solar with a small tray of eggs, bread and bacon. When she would have offered him an awkward curtsey, Sampson halted her with a laugh.
“No more of that,” he said, grinning, “at least when we are in private. Come, join us for breakfast.”
“Perhaps I should not,” she said, glancing toward the closed dining room door. “The Baron—”
“Will have to get used to this,” he finished for her. “I love you, and I am certainly not going to hide you. Not from anyone.”
Taking the tray from her, Sampson handed it to a nearby footman with the instructions to return it to the kitchen for someone to eat the food on it. He then enclosed his hand in hers, leading Lucretia into the dining room. Henrietta already sat in her usual place at the mahogany table, waiting for her brother. Upon seeing the clasped hands, she broke into a wide smile. Lucretia saw Sampson wink at her.
The Earl of Egerton reacted to the sight with a grin and a loud guffaw, slapping the tabletop with his hand. “I knew you had taken a fancy to her, old boy. I saw it in your face. How utterly delightful.”
Standing, he came around the table to Lucretia and Sampson, bowing to her, still grinning. Taking her hand, he kissed it, then offered her a sly wink. Lucretia blushed under his attentions. The Earl shook Sampson’s hand and clapped him on the back. “You lucky dog, you.”
However, the Baron of Gillinghamshire stared at the two of them, his jaw slack. His eyes, red and rheumy, sparked anger and hatred as he stared at Lucretia. She shivered under the force of that malice, and felt grateful for Sampson’s steady presence at her side.
“This is an outrage,” the Baron snapped, standing. “How dare you cosset that servant, flaunting her in front of us. She is nothing but a strumpet—”
“Not another word, George.”
Though he did not raise his voice, the primal threat in it e
ffectively cut the Baron off from whatever else he wanted to say. He shut his jaw, clenching his fists as though ready to launch himself over the table and beat her to death. Lucretia stood firm, refusing to drop her eyes though she knew that only infuriated him more.
“You are under my roof,” Sampson growled, his voice still pitched low, “and seated at my table. I love Lucretia, and I will not tolerate any slights to her name. Do you understand me?”
“Then I will remain under your roof no longer.” The Baron bowed coldly, his upper lip curled. “Your Grace.”
Stalking past them, he shoved his way out of the dining room, almost striking a footman in the head with the door. Lucretia did not watch him leave, but stood where she was, her blood cold, her mouth dry. Her comfort came when Sampson drew in a deep breath and squeezed her hand. Glancing up, she found him gazing down, his expression set, tight. “I am so sorry, Lucretia,” he said. “He was not always like that.”
“He will get over it,” the Earl said, returning to his seat. “Give him time, old boy. Come, let us eat. I am famished.”
“Are you going to be married now?” Henrietta asked, her happy smile blooming forth once more. “Luce will be my sister.”
Lucretia smiled as Sampson seated her at the table. “We have not discussed it, Lady Henrietta.”
“Do be married. I wanted you to be my sister.”
Rumors and speculation abounded through the house. Between the knowledge that someone with evil intent stalked the Duke’s house, combined with the news that he had fallen in love with the governess, made for steamy hot gossip among the staff. Lucretia found her new status as the Duke’s lady both uncomfortable and amusing. Even Rosemary curtseyed until Lucretia ordered her not to.
“I am still just a common governess,” she explained.
“I am so happy for you, Luce,” Rosemary said, tears standing in her eyes. “You caught the most eligible bachelor in all of the kingdom. There will be many noble ladies, all over the isles, weeping at the news.”
Tutoring of Henrietta continued as though nothing at all had changed. Sampson rode every day to the castle to check on his prized horses, and insisted Lucretia and he spend time together when he returned. Henrietta, however, barely paid attention to her lessons, and constantly asked questions Lucretia had no answers for.
“When will you and Sampson get married, Luce?”
“I do not know.”
“Where will you spend your honeymoon?”
“I do not know, Henrietta. Please recite the poem again.”
In the days since the night the intruder came to her door, Sampson and Lucretia had taken up the habit of walking in the garden, hand in hand, after supper. The nights had grown cooler, but were yet pleasant enough for romantic strolls in the evening.
“I have never been in love before,” Sampson said. “I watched my parents throughout their marriage, but I do not know if they were in love.”
“Were they happy together?”
“I believe so. They had some affection for each other. Of course, they loved Henrietta and I.”
“I did not want to marry a man I did not love,” Lucretia said, his hand warm in hers. “But I also knew that could be my fate, had I not found you.”
“The same for me,” Sampson replied. “A man in my position should marry an heiress, someone who could increase my wealth and status in society.”
Lucretia paused, making him stop with her. “You do not regret this? Us?”
“Of course not.” His tug on her hand started her walking again. “I have more than enough wealth for several lifetimes over and my status in society is already higher than anyone save the Prince Regent and His Majesty the King. Had you not entered my home and my life, I would have married an heiress, but I would not have loved her.”
“Thus we both have what we hoped to have,” Lucretia said. “A marriage based on love.”
Pausing in his stride to kiss her, Sampson smiled. “And here I have not yet formally asked you to marry me.”
Lucretia’s answer was interrupted by James’ arrival in the garden, his hurried steps on the cobbles loud in the evening’s stillness. “Your pardon, Your Grace, for this intrusion. But Mr. Kirkwood sent me to find you.”
“What is wrong?”
“Her Ladyship’s abigail has fallen ill with an ailment he cannot identify.”
Sampson frowned. “So why did he send you to tell me? Servants have gotten sick before.”
“Because six other members of the staff are equally ill, Your Grace.”
Chapter 32
Sampson, Lucretia at his side, stood over Rosemary’s bed in one of the guest rooms as Mr. Kirkwood examined her. Henrietta sat on the edge of the bed, holding Rosemary’s hand, her small face pinched and anxious. Rosemary, her skin shiny with fever, tried to smile at her, but it was a weak effort at best.
At the jerk of the physician’s head, Sampson released Lucretia’s hand and walked with him toward the door. “What is wrong with her?” Sampson asked, his tone low.
“I do not know, Your Grace.”
Sampson glanced past his shoulder where Lucretia wrung out a cloth from a basin of cold water and placed it tenderly on Rosemary’s brow. Mr. Kirkwood followed his gaze, his plain face twisted with worry—and fear. “Until I know what this is and how to cure it, I would like to have all the sick servants placed in rooms where I can watch over them more easily.”
“Of course. Whatever you need.”
Mr. Kirkwood’s voice dropped even lower, his eyes on Sampson’s. “Three more servants have started complaining of the same symptoms—hot, flushed skin, difficulty in swallowing, excessive thirst, and difficulty in swallowing. Many speak, when they can, of blurred vision.”
“What can this be?”
“I must do more research, Your Grace,” Mr. Kirkwood said, his voice trembling faintly. “I must go through my medical books and find the symptoms that match the disease. But I also must treat these people the best I can.”
“Lucretia.”
When she glanced at him, Sampson gestured for her to come to them. Rising, she approached, her brows high in inquiry. “I need you to help Mr. Kirkwood,” he said. “Will you read his medical books and see if you can find what this is, if you can?”
“I will do my best. Mr. Kirkwood, may I presume your books are in your office?”
“Yes, indeed they are, Miss Brent. Remember to search for these symptoms—hot, flushed skin, dry mouth, dilated pupils, blurred vision and excessive thirst. Got that?”
“I do, Mr. Kirkwood.”
“I will have food sent to you,” Sampson added. “Do you want Henrietta to help you?”
Lucretia glanced over her shoulder. “I think she should remain here with Rosemary. It will bring them both comfort.”
“Very well.”
Lucretia curtseyed politely, then hurried through the door and closed it quietly behind her. Sampson turned back to the physician. “Is there more I can do?”
Mr. Kirkwood nodded, smiling a little. “Pray.”
Sampson left Rosemary’s sickroom and discovered James on his way to find him.
“Any news?” James asked.
Sampson shook his head. “I sent Lucretia to research the symptoms in Mr. Kirkwood’s books. I also want all the ill servants quartered on this floor in the empty guest rooms. It will be easier to look after them if they are all on one area.”
“Very good. I will see to it.”
Frustrated, Sampson ran his hands through his hair. “Ten servants ill from some unknown cause.”
“Ten?” James’ brows rose. “There are fifteen by my count.”
“Fifteen!”
“They are dropping all over the house—kitchen maids, scullery maids, two footmen that I know of, and Martin.”
“Martin is ill, as well?”
“Yes. Mr. Kirkwood has no idea what the cause is?”
“Not yet, but hopefully he and Lucretia will find one. I need you to gather ten healthy serv
ants to aid in caring for the sick. So far, it does not seem to be contagious, but we will know if the care givers suddenly get sick, too. I am going to the kitchen.”
“What for, if I may ask?”
“I do not know,” Sampson replied. “Perhaps this is some sort of poisoning from bad food.”
James shook his head, skeptical. “The cook knows better, lad. He would never serve anything dangerous.”
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