Her Duke of Secrets

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by Christi Caldwell


  “Shh.” Elsie pressed her fingertips against his lips, silencing him. “I’m not looking for assurances that no day can promise. I just want you. I love you.”

  He groaned and claimed her lips in a searing kiss that touched her soul.

  Through the fiery magic of that embrace, something blared at the back of her mind. Laying her palms upon his chest, Elsie abruptly drew back and searched his face. “Was. You said… ‘of what I was.’”

  “I ceded my role, Elsie. You’re what I want. You are who I love. My heart cannot fully be with the Brethren when it is so completely yours.”

  She sobbed and, wrapping her arms about his waist, clung to him for all she was.

  “Now, this is precisely the response I’d hoped for.” The slightly taunting announcement slashed across the clearing, jerking Elsie and William apart.

  That voice… familiar. Her mind raced as the gentleman wound his way down the graveled path at the rear of the cottage, a gun trained on Elsie. Where did she know him from? Where…? And then remembrance dawned.

  William cursed and moved to place himself in front of Elsie.

  “Tsk, tsk, not another move, Your Grace,” the gentleman ordered, pointing the barrel of his pistol at William’s head. “Or I’ll kill you first and then end her next.”

  Chapter 24

  William had been consigned to hell.

  There was no other accounting for this moment, when he’d finally reached out to claim a life with Elsie, that his work should haunt him once more. Panic pulled at the edge of his consciousness. Unwittingly, he’d ushered her into this world.

  Clear head. Calm mind.

  Clear head. Calm mind.

  Drawing on that mantra ingrained in every member of the Brethren, William forced a cool ducal grin. “I’ve a greater appreciation for those direct in their dealings,” he drawled, the lazy effect ruined by the layer of steel he added to the statement. “And I have even more appreciation for those who do not draw innocent women into their”—he flicked a derisive sneer over the gun in the stranger’s hand—“dealings.” All the while, he searched his memory for how he knew this man. It was there, dancing at the back of his mind.

  Fury burned brighter in the gentleman’s eyes. “Come, Aubrey, I’m not the one who’s drawn any woman into our business.” Our business. “You’re the one who has.” A hoarse laugh burst from him. “But then, that is what you do, isn’t it, Your Grace? You place your own desires and wants and needs before all else. Your wife. Miss Allenby.”

  The charged accusation found its proper mark like a blade thrust into his chest. A fresh wave of the never vanquished guilt washed over him. He was a fool for believing he could begin again and as selfish as this madman chided. And then through that… something this man had said rooted at his brain. “You killed her,” he said, his voice blank. This was the man who’d destroyed his life. And every lesson he’d learned at the Home Office failed him.

  William sprang forward.

  The stranger leaned back and, with the agility of a panther, ducked behind William and brought his pistol crashing into the side of his head.

  William stumbled and fought the stars that danced behind his eyes.

  “Tsk, tsk. You shouldn’t have done that. If you do so again, Miss Allenby dies.”

  Oh, God. His stomach roiled, and he held his palms up in supplication. Keeping his eyes upon his tormenter, William retreated, stopping only when he was at Elsie’s side.

  “I’ll also have you know that I didn’t wish to kill your wife. That wasn’t my intention. Your misery from it, however, was an unexpected… pleasure.”

  It was… an odd statement that revealed a hint of humanity at odds with the person now threatening his and Elsie’s lives.

  Elsie slid her fingers into his and gave a light squeeze. The steadiness to her hand and the warmth there brought him back from the precipice.

  “Who are you?” Elsie asked quietly.

  William glared at her, urging her to silence. Of course, at every turn, from the beginning to now, she made up her own mind and acted as she thought best.

  “Ah, forgive me,” he greeted. “Formal introductions and all that.” Bowing his blond head, the gentleman sneered. “Lord Brandon Barnes.” Lord Brandon stared expectantly at William.

  William frantically searched his mind.

  The gentleman sucked in a slow hiss of air through his teeth. “You’ve no idea who I am,” he breathed, shock and hatred filling his tone.

  “I…” Keep him talking. Keep him talking. Avoid angering him. For, when the remainder of the gentleman’s sanity snapped, he and Elsie would pay the price with their lives. William’s palms moistened.

  “You’re a member of the Brethren,” Elsie said quietly.

  William whipped his focus to the stranger.

  Lord Brandon stiffened. Shock paraded over his scarred features, and then he quickly masked it. Retaining his hold on his pistol, the gentleman clapped several fingertips against the base of his palm. “You are clever, Miss Allenby. But your goodness is also a poison. It’s rotted you and allowed you to help a man who destroyed your father.”

  “Mm-mm.” Elsie stepped out from behind William, and he made a sound of protest, reaching for her wrist, but she drew it close to her chest.

  Every part of him roared to take command, to protect her.

  Only…

  He’d been doing that the whole of his life. He’d not allowed Adeline any control of her… and their… existence.

  Elsie continued walking toward the threat.

  Awe and frustration commingled at the bravery… or madness. Elsie, he silently pleaded, urging her back. With Lord Brandon’s attention momentarily fixed on the spitfire before him, William scoured the dense forest.

  At last, she stopped before the gentleman.

  “Elsie,” William hissed.

  She held up a silencing hand. “You felt betrayed by the Brethren. It is why you approached me at the market. You were not spying on me on behalf of His Grace.” Elsie shot a brief glance over her shoulder at William before redirecting all her focus on Lord Brandon. “You sought to determine if I would turn on him.”

  Oh, God. William’s body recoiled. This was the man she’d faced on her own when she’d gone off to the market. And all the while, he’d thought sending her away would be safer. Shame swallowed him.

  “I was betrayed by the Brethren,” Lord Brandon said in deadened tones. “As were you. Only, I remember it.” His fingers convulsed around the gun in his grip.

  William’s stomach pitched, and he took a slow, measured step toward the pair.

  “What happened?” Elsie urged in dulcet tones that could have called forth secrets held by Satan himself.

  “What didn’t happen?” Lord Brandon countered. “I gave my service, I was wounded. Nearly killed for my efforts, and how did this man repay that service?” he whispered. “He turned me out. I was used and discarded. Just as your father was.”

  A distant recollection flickered to life. A young gentleman put forward to replace the former spy, Adam Markham, who’d been captured, freed, and then retired. The Brethren had sought a new spy to replace him.

  We cannot have another Markham. We can’t afford weakness. If he falters, cut him loose…

  Oh, God. As his own voice whispered forward, his legs wavered, and he fought to steady himself.

  “I see you remember me… now,” Lord Brandon spat.

  “Brandon,” he began. “It was in your best interest.”

  “Quiet!” the young man thundered. His voice, slightly pitched, sent birds in nearby trees into a panicky flight. “Just… quiet,” he repeated more evenly. A half-mad laugh spilled from Lord Brandon’s lips. “Do not pretend you were ever acting in my interest.”

  William briefly closed his eyes. How ruthless he’d been. How blind to all but rank and order and the Brethren. Elsie had helped him to see—too late—all those failings. “No. You are right. I was solely focused on the Brethren.” He�
�d failed to see people, and in so doing, he had lost his humanity. Until Elsie. Until she’d helped him to rediscover it within himself.

  “And now you shall die,” Lord Brandon said conversationally, shifting the gun to point at William’s chest, but making no attempt to fire.

  “You said my goodness rotted me,” Elsie said quietly, freezing the broken spy before them. “You cannot understand why I forgave William and all the Brethren for my father’s fate.” Lord Brandon offered no words, and yet, he angled his head ever so slightly, the mark of how intently he attended her. “I’m not so very good. I hated William and the Brethren for five years, and then do you know what I realized?” Elsie did not wait for him to reply. “It was not their fault. My father knew what he was undertaking when he agreed to do the Crown’s work. Just as you did.”

  “I didn’t know,” William said quietly. “But I should have. You worked on behalf of me and the Crown, and I had an obligation to see to your well-being. I failed you, and Miss Allenby, and I cannot undo those sins or mistakes, but I can try moving forward to be better.”

  Lord Brandon’s arm shook. “Stop it,” he whispered. “Stop. I’ll not accept your excuses. That is not enough. I have to do this.” Had to. Which implied he did not wish to.

  Hope flared to life.

  Elsie touched Lord Brandon’s arm, and the gentleman jerked. “Your anger holds you as a prisoner,” Elsie said softly. “Just as it did me.” Leaning up on tiptoe, she whispered close to his ear, and William strained to pick up a hint of the words that were ultimately lost to him.

  “He ruined me,” Lord Brandon moaned.

  “You can put yourself and your life together again. But not if you do this,” Elsie said with an air of finality. She stretched a hand out.

  Lord Brandon’s eyes filled with tears. “I can’t.”

  Elsie smiled, a delicate upturn of her lips that had ensnared William from the start. She nodded slightly.

  The young man dropped the weapon into her hand, and his body immediately sagged.

  “Do not move.”

  At last. Stone came charging, with Bear hot at his heels. He knocked Lord Brandon to the ground and immediately searched the young man for a weapon.

  William surged forward and grabbed Elsie to him. “Why did you do that? Promise me you’ll never do that again. My God, you are magnificent,” he panted, dropping kisses upon her cheek. “What did you say to him?”

  All his questions rolled together, incoherent and illogical in their ordering.

  Elsie wrapped her arms about him and clung. The faint tremble to her lean body stood as a contradiction to her earlier steadiness, and he loved her all the more for her show of bravery.

  “I love you,” he rasped, cupping her cheeks. “There is no life without you in it.” No, she’d shown him there were many reasons to live. He swallowed rhythmically. “You showed me the life I want to live is with you in it. Marry me. As I said, and as you… see…” Elsie followed his stare to the young man now being hauled to his feet, his hands tied behind his back. William waited, not saying anything else until Lord Brandon had been escorted off. When he and Elsie were at last alone, he faced her. “As long as you are in my life, you are at risk. But I am selfish enough—”

  Elsie pressed her lips to his, kissing him into silence, ending those words. When she sank back on her heels, she brushed his hair behind his ear. “You asked what I said to Lord Brandon,” she said softly. “I told him love is not selfish. Love is more powerful than any threat or danger. It is healing… if one allows it.” Elsie pressed her palms against the place his heart hammered in his chest. “I love you and want a life with you, William.”

  “I love you, Elsie,” he said hoarsely.

  And with that profession, his love for this woman, and the joy he knew with her and because of her, chased off the last vestige of darkness. William kissed her once more, and with their giant, loyal dog barking excitedly beside them, William released the fears that had held him and embraced the future that would come with Elsie.

  I am free.

  The End

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