Ducal Encounters 01 - At the Duke's Discretion

by Wendy Soliman

  “How the devil did you get in here?” Chesney asked, blinking up at him like an owl from behind his glasses.

  “Sit down!” Reece bellowed at Crista. At the same time he grabbed the old man and pulled him from his chair. Chesney was stronger than he appeared and fought back, but Reece was easily able to subdue him. “Move a muscle, Miss Brooke, and it will be the worse for your uncle. Do as I say, and you will both survive.”

  Storm clouds gathered behind her eyes. She was clearly about to launch an attack of her own, but thought better of it and backed off.

  “What do you want?” she asked instead, her voice insolent, scathing. She ought to be scared, show him some respect. Instead, she looked at him as though he was something she had just scraped from the bottom of her shoe. Well, that situation would change before this night was out. Any thoughts of treating her gently had been eradicated by her attitude, and she only had herself to blame for what she was about to experience. Thoughts of her begging him for mercy fired his lust. “You will never get away with this, you oaf.”

  “It seems I already have.” Reece was surprised at how calm, how in control he felt, as he pushed the old man back into his chair and bound his arms firmly to it with more of his rope. “Come along, Miss Brooke,” he said politely. “You and I have matters to attend to.”

  She tossed her head and sent him another damning look. “If you think I will go anywhere with you then you really are deluded.”

  He raked her body with a hard, merciless gaze. “I don’t think you fully appreciate your situation. Thanks to your deception with the diamonds, I really have nothing to lose. The people I work for do not tolerate failure, you see, but then, given what happened to your father, you already know that.”

  “You…” She pointed a finger at him, no longer quite so composed. “You killed him?”

  “Unfortunately, that privilege did not fall to my lot. But, just so we are clear, I would have done so without a second’s regret.” He fixed her with an indolent smile. “Now perhaps we understand one another better.”

  “You are despicable!”

  “I am a survivor and, under the circumstances, I have no intention of remaining here, waiting to be blamed for what you two did. But first, I need to understand how you managed it?”

  “Did what?” she replied insolently.

  “Come along, my dear, I don’t have all night. I know you swapped the real diamond for a fake, and I would like to know how you did it.”

  “We did not,” Chesney replied. He looked pale yet defiant, as though he didn’t believe Reece would actually resort to violence. Reece curled his upper lip, thinking if he didn’t soon talk he would have occasion to know otherwise. Unfortunately, Reece couldn’t afford the luxury of dallying all night with the delectable Miss Brooke. There was no telling how quickly Mayfield and his masters might return, and Reece needed to be well away before they did. He lifted his cosh above the old man’s head, but it had no discernable effect. “You may beat me to death, if you like, but it will change nothing.”

  “You may not mind dying, but I think Miss Brooke’s conscience would be troubled if she allowed that to happen.”

  Reece glanced at her as he spoke and noticed her chewing the inside of her lip with indecision. It was then that he knew he was right. They really had duped him. In which case, perhaps all was not lost. If they swapped the diamonds, they could return the real one to him and he could, just possibly, regain favour with his masters. She saw uncle and niece exchange a speaking look, after which Chesney shook his head.

  “If you have the real stone, it might very well keep you alive,” Reece told them casually. “Without it, you are no use to me or my masters.”

  “But we do not have it,” Crista said, spreading her hands.

  “Your rich lover engineered all of this.” Reece pointed an accusing finger at Crista. “Sheridan said pretty words to you, pretended to admire you, kissed you a time or two, and you did everything he asked of you,” Reece snarled. “Just as you will for me before the night is out. It no longer matters how you swapped the diamond. It was simply a matter of idle curiosity, because I have decided not to wait for my masters to return.”

  “Then don’t let us keep you,” Crista replied with an arrogant toss of her head.

  “Nor do I intend to leave empty-handed. I must be compensated for the income I have lost, thanks to you two.” He beckoned to Crista. “Come along, Miss Brooke, you and I have an engagement to keep in private.”

  “Never!” she spat at him.

  “Oh, I think you will do as you’re told.” He slapped his cosh against his palm and sent a significant look her uncle’s way. “As I keep trying to tell you, I have absolutely nothing to lose now, and desperate men are always unpredictable. You and I are going to go down to the shop, and I shall help myself to a few trinkets.”

  “Fine,” Chesney said. “Take whatever you want. Just leave Crista alone.”

  “I am terribly sorry to disappoint you, sir, but I have a score to settle with your meddlesome niece.”

  He reached out to grab her arm. She responded by bringing a poker down across his hand with considerable force. Reece howled, swore voraciously, and let her go. How the devil had she picked up the poker without him noticing? First a seamless swap of diamonds, and now this. The wretched girl had broken his hand, or so it felt. No matter. He ignored the pain, determined to control her before she inflicted further damage on him, and to make her pay an even higher price for her rebelliousness. She raised the poker a second time, a murderous look in her eye.

  “Drop it!”

  He raised the cosh over her uncle’s head, gave him a tap with it, and she immediately let the poker go. It clattered against the marble hearth and rolled to a halt. Her eyes shot daggers at him, her breath coming in short, angry spurts. But when blood gushed from her uncle’s temple she gasped and tried to run to him.

  “Now see what you have made me do,” Reece said, smiling as he admired his handiwork.

  “Are you all right, Uncle?” Crista asked anxiously.

  “Yes, my dear. I have a very hard head. It’s nothing but a scratch.” Blood trickled into one of his eyes and he blinked it away. “Just have a care for yourself.”

  Reece picked up a cloak that was draped across a chair and threw it at Crista. “Put that on.”

  She took her time, throwing him looks of intense dislike, but eventually did as he asked.

  “Now come over here. Hold your hands out in front of you where I can see them.”

  She hesitated, but eventually complied. As soon as she was close, Reece bound her hands tighter than was strictly necessary, just to teach her a lesson. He was clumsy because the fingers of one hand were swollen where she had struck them with the poker, but finally he got it done to his satisfaction.

  “Now, downstairs we go. If you are a good girl and are nice to me, then you will see your uncle again. If you are not…well, I shall have no use for either of you.”

  “You cowardly blaggard!” Chesney struggled against his bonds. “Leave her here and take me instead.”

  Reece laughed. “You cannot give me the things I need.” He grabbed Crista’s arm and pushed her towards the stairs. “Come along, my dear. Time is a’wasting.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “What I have to say will make me seem like a most disobliging neighbour.” Lady St. John’s eyes sparkled as she shared a glance between Amos and Zach. “However, if you require a temporary home for Mrs. Brooke and her younger daughter on another occasion, please look elsewhere.”

  “Ah, so you have met your match.” Zach elevated one brow in idle amusement and sent their guest a teasing smile. “I apologise if you have been inconvenienced.”

  “I thought I had met my share of social climbers in my time, to say nothing of self-obsessed young ladies with inflated opinions of their own worth, but my guests have proven themselves to be in a class of their own. Oh, excuse me, Lord Amos.” Lady St. John covered her mouth with one h
and, her eyes still brimming with infectious mirth. “There I go again, speaking without thinking. Please be assured, I do not include the elder Miss Brooke in my criticism. She is a delight, and I am very glad to know her.”

  Amos, who doubted whether Lady St. John had uttered an indiscrete word in her life, merely smiled. “I am sorry about Mrs. Brooke. Another two days should see you rid of them.”

  “Oh, I don’t mind for myself. I can easily find an occupation that keeps me out of their way. It is you gentlemen I fear for.”

  “Us?” Zach flexed both brows this time. “Why should we be in danger?”

  “If you had spent the past day listening to Mrs. Brooke singing her younger daughter’s praises, you would not have asked that question. You see, no one is prettier, kinder, better read, more accomplished, or would make a better wife…need I go on?”

  “Most assuredly not,” Zach replied, shuddering.

  “Mrs. Brooke is quite determined to meet you all, because naturally you will be charmed by her Amelia. She sweeps aside all my objections as though I don’t not what I am talking about. Really, if there is something that woman does not wish to hear, she is blind to all reason.” Amos nodded, and avoided looking at Zach for fear of laughing. Lady St. John’s account of Mrs. Brooke’s determination perfectly coincided with Crista’s description of her mother’s ambitions, so there was really nothing to laugh about. “Honestly, were the distance between here and Farrington House shorter, I would not put it past them to cover it on foot.”

  “Thankfully that is not possible,” Amos said, finally giving way to laughter.

  “It will not surprise you, I’m sure, to learn Mrs. Brooke has not once asked about Crista’s situation,” Lady St. John said, her smile abruptly fading. “She knows she is in danger, but as I have already remarked, she has a happy knack for ignoring anything she doesn’t care to think about.”

  Amos ground his jaw. “No, that does not surprise.”

  “I, on the other hand, called this evening with the express purpose of asking how it went. I have been concerned for Miss Brooke’s welfare. She is being so very brave.”

  “We understand the stones were swapped without difficulty,” Zach replied.

  “We don’t actually know if there were difficulties,” Amos pointed out, “since we have not been permitted to−”

  The door flew open, causing Amos’s words to stall and for fear to grip him like a vice when he saw Nate standing there, looking uncharacteristically flustered.

  “What is it?” he and Zach asked together.

  “Zach, You won’t believe what…oh, good evening, Lady St. John.” Nate offered their guest a brief, a very brief, bow. “It’s Reece,” he said breathlessly, returning his attention to Zach and Amos. “He’s disappeared.”

  “How the devil did that happen?” Amos asked, springing to his feet. “You were supposed to doctor his ale.”

  “I did.” Nate threw up his hands, as though warding up a physical attack. “One minute he was in the taproom, brooding over his ale, the next he lumbered from the room. I assumed, excuse me, Lady St. John, but I assumed he had gone to answer a call of nature. When he didn’t return after ten minutes, I became anxious and went in search of him. He was nowhere to be found so I ran up the stairs to his room and found it stripped of all his possessions.”

  “Crista,” Amos said, clenching his fists. “He will go after her.”

  “Romsey has someone watching her place,” Zach replied calmly. “Let’s hear what else Nate has to tell us before we go charging off on a wild goose chase.”

  “I deduced he must have run off before his masters come back and put the blame on him. To do that he would need a horse, so I checked the livery stable. Sure enough, he hired a saddle horse ten minutes before I got there and rode off in the direction of the Winchester Road, having agreed to leave the horse at the first posting inn.”

  “He’s for London then,” Zach said.

  “I don’t trust him,” Amos said, his voice tight with barely controlled anger. “I’ve had a bad feeling about this whole business since Romsey took himself off to London himself, blithely assuring us everyone would sit tight at his convenience.”

  “What of the man Romsey left in the taproom to keep an eye on Reece?” Zach asked.

  “Hmm, funny you should ask, because he was nowhere to be seen,” Nate replied, rubbing his chin. “I looked for him when I couldn’t find Reece, which is when it occurred to me I hadn’t seen him all the evening. I assume he was called off because I was there.”

  “Come on,” Amos said, his gut churning with worry. “If that man had been recalled, we cannot be sure the rest of them have not been as well. We need to ride to Shawford and ensure Miss Brooke is safe and well.”

  Zach sprang into action, issuing orders that saw footmen scurrying to obey them, making things happen as only a duke could. In short order, he had men sent to the Winchester Road to look out for Reece and two burly footmen detailed to accompany them to Shawford. “The next coach will not leave until the morning,” he assured Amos. “If he is there, we will catch him before he boards it.”

  “He isn’t there. He won’t leave Shawford until he has had his revenge,” Amos replied with firm assurance. “Come, Zach, we’re wasting time.”

  “I shall come with you,” Lady St. John said. “Don’t worry. I won’t slow you down and might be of some help.”

  The three brothers shared a brief look and then nodded. Zach took Lady St. John’s arm and the party headed for the stables. It would only have taken the grooms a minute to saddle all the horses, but Amos couldn’t wait that long. He threw Warrior’s bridle on himself, leapt onto him bareback and cantered from the yard. The others would catch up with him, or they would not. Amos didn’t have time to wait.

  ***

  Crista received a sharp shove in the small of the back that sent her tumbling off balance in the direction of the stairs. She had no choice but to walk down them, otherwise Reece would probably push her. It was awkward progress with bound hands and a head full of worry for her uncle. Reece, the snivelling coward, had hit Uncle Charles very hard and the wound bled copiously. Unless he could manage to untie his hands and call for help, she did not care to think about the consequences. Dear lord, where was Kate? Crista had only just remembered their maid. Presumably Reece had overpowered her before he tackled them. She offered up a silent prayer for the girl to be unharmed. If she was not, it would be another tragedy to burden Crista’s conscience.

  She was more angry than afraid when they reached the ground floor and Reece forced her to unlock the back door to the shop.

  “Show me where the best items are kept,” he said abruptly. “I want small, valuable things, easy to carry and to hock. Nothing that’s recognisable, but don’t try palming me off with no rubbish.”

  As though he will know the difference. Crista showed him a display cabinet with some of their best work inside. She didn’t care if he took the lot. All she cared about was getting out of this situation and saving her poor uncle. She took some satisfaction from the fact Reece had virtually no use of the fingers on the hand she had struck with the poker. Crista regretted not hitting him harder, or managing a second blow before he disarmed her.

  Having stuffed a sack full of jewellery, Reece jerked his thumb towards the back door.

  “Come along, Miss Brooke,” he said with a sneering grin. “It’s time you and I became better acquainted.”

  Crista greedily eyed the various tools she used to make her jewellery, a lot of them small and exceedingly sharp, neatly lined up on her workbench. If she could just pick one of them up. But with her hands tied and Reece watching her so closely, it was impossible. Finally, fear kicked in as the seriousness of her situation came home to her. Crista dragged her feet, but Reece kept a vicelike grip on her upper arm with his good hand as they left the shop, and he pulled her along at a cracking pace. She almost had to run to keep up with him, or risk being tugged from her feet.

  They
soon left the village behind them, and it was obvious he had a particular destination in mind. But where? Dear God, surely not a barn or a field. She needed to be near people if she was to have a chance of attracting attention to her plight.

  “Cry out or try to alert anyone, and it’s your uncle who will suffer,” Reece said, appearing to read her mind when she opened her mouth to call for help from a passer-by who gave them an odd look.

  Crista recalled Reece admitting he was desperate, and knew he meant what he said. She didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer, instead, turning her mind to the best method of escape. She had absolutely no intention of submitting to Reece’s vile advances, but she had no weapon, and even with an injured hand he was still far stronger than she was. If only she could untie the rope that bound her hands, then she would feel more in control. At least, she was still wearing boy’s clothing, which would make it that much harder for Reece to take liberties. She swallowed as she mulled that tiny advantage over in her head. If he wanted to undress her, he would find it awkward with his injured hand. She could see the fingers had swollen, and he was having trouble carrying the sack stuffed with the stolen jewellery. Good! She hope it hurt like the devil.

  So, she reasoned, if he couldn’t disrobe her himself, he would have to untie her hands so she could do it herself. Hmm, what would Amos do in this situation? No, don’t think about him now. He wasn’t here, and she most likely would never see him again, even if she did survive this ordeal. She was on her own and there was no one to fight this particular battle for her. Even so, thoughts of the bliss she had experienced beneath Amos’s skilled hands spurred her on. She would never allow another man to lay so much as one finger on her and spoil that recollection. Never! She would bide her time and find a way out of this for herself, and for her uncle.

  She absolutely would.

  They reached a large house on the outskirts of the village, set on its own grounds. Surely, he wasn’t taking her in there. Well, if he was, he was exceedingly foolish because there must be servants, someone who would help her. Hope flared, only to be dashed when he let himself in by a side door that led directly to the kitchen. A maid and a cook sat at the table, drinking tea. Both looked surprised to see Reece with a captive woman in his grasp.