My Duke Until Dawn (The Duke's Secret, #6)

by Devon, Eva

  She winced at that.

  It was the absolute opposite, of course. She was doing everything that she could to help people like him, but he wouldn’t see it that way.

  “I’m sorry that you feel that way,” she said. “Is there any way that I can make amends?”

  “Oh, aye, indeed,” he said, stepping nearer with ratty boots. “You can come with me. There’s a price on your head, you know?”

  “My head?” she repeated, her throat tightening. “My goodness, I had no idea I was so valuable.”

  “Oh, not you,” he corrected. “It’s your governor, you know. The duke. The man with all the power. Yes. I’ve been hired to make his life quite a misery.”

  “Now have you?” she asked, sitting straight, keeping her letter opener hidden in the folds of her skirts. “Surely, there is something else we can do. Perhaps I could pay you, and then you could go back to whoever—”

  “No, I don’t work that way, Your Grace,” he cut in quick, spitting. “I’m a man of honor, I am. I took the money, and now I’m going to do the job.”

  “And what exactly is the job?” she asked, her heart pounding in her chest, making speaking difficult.

  “I’m going to take you,” he pointed at her to emphasize this information, “Your Grace, and make sure that your husband understands that if he doesn’t shut up and stop working against a certain man, that. . . his life will be destroyed.”

  “Oh, I see,” she said, which was all she could manage.

  All the while they spoke, she felt her blood rushing.

  There was a terrible stillness about her, one of great confidence, as if she understood that her life was in terrible jeopardy and if she did not act with authority now, then she would be dead.

  She would not survive this, and nor would her child, if she did not seize control.

  Penelope stepped forward.

  “Now, look here,” he warned gruffly. “I could break you like a twig, so I want you to come with me. No fuss, no muss.”

  “You do seem like a very powerful gentlemen,” she assured him, wishing him to feel secure. “And I shouldn’t like to give you any difficulty, because I do quite like my life.”

  “As you should, Your Grace,” he said with a smile. “A young lady like you, living like this?” he gestured to the opulent grounds. “Who would want to give it up? Look at all the people where I’m from; they live right miserable lives compared to the one you have.”

  “I agree,” she said, wetting her suddenly dry lips. “I certainly can’t argue with that.”

  He waved a callused hand smeared with coal and dirt at her. “Come on, then.”

  “Of course,” she said, tucking her hand further into the thick folds of her gown. “I’m coming.”

  He nodded happily. “Glad to see you’ve got a good sense, Your Grace.”

  “They do say I have a bit,” she said. “I’ve always wondered myself, but I do try.”

  “Most ladies don’t,” he put in. “They always try to do something foolish. They scream or something. You’re not going to scream, are you?”

  “Would it do me any good?” she asked with a pained smile.

  “Nope, not a jot,” he declared.

  She kept moving slowly towards him, hoping to build his confidence. “Well, then, I won’t do it.”

  “Glad to hear it.” He clapped his hands together. “Now, off we go. We’re going to go back through those woods, and I’ve got a horse waiting for us down by the road.”

  “Do lead the way,” she suggested, wondering if Rafe would begin to worry about her.

  “I don’t think so,” he countered, his eyes narrowed. “You’ll be doing the leading.”

  She nodded, swallowing.

  He didn’t seem to see her as a real threat, which was ideal, and it was one of the few times she was quite happy to be a lady. Because she probably didn’t seem at all threatening to him in her beautiful gown and her soft curled hair with her lily-white hands.

  She felt he must’ve assumed she’d never done a day’s work in her life, and he was quite correct. Not the sort of labor he or his family had likely known.

  So as she walked close to him, he gave her a nod of his head.

  “That’s right. That’s right. Off you go, my girl.”

  And then she tripped.

  He rushed forward to grab her, lest she be making a run for it, no doubt.

  And just as his hands almost seized her shoulder, she did it.

  She stabbed the blade of her letter opener through his calf.

  He let out a terrible scream and tried to fist her hair. He missed, but managed to shove her face forward into the dirt. She winced as she landed hard upon the earth.

  Grass and dirt filled her mouth, and she scrambled forward, trying to get away from him. He grabbed the edge of her skirt. She kicked back so hard that he screamed as she hit the letter opener in his leg.

  He grunted loudly and then yelled, “Get back here, you.”

  She scrambled with all her might, feeling her nails break as she struggled against rocks and the rough earth.

  She would not go back.

  She would not let him take her.

  Not when her child was at risk.

  Even now, she felt her heart slamming, horrified and worried that the fall might’ve done some sort of damage.

  Just as his hand grabbed her ankle and began pulling her back, a pistol shot went off in the air.

  The man holding her suddenly let go and limped off into the woods.

  She spotted Rafe, but he did not stop with her.

  He ran at a wild pace, chasing the man deeper into the trees.

  James, the gamekeeper, knelt down beside her.

  “Are you well, Your Grace?”

  “I think so,” she said. And she patted her hair and her clothes back into place.

  “But Rafe,” she demanded, beginning to panic now.

  “Don’t you worry about His Grace,” James insisted. “He’s a man of action, that one is.”

  She didn’t doubt it, and yet she felt fear leap into her mouth.

  She stared after where they had gone, and then she heard another pistol shot.

  She bit back a useless scream.

  Dear God, what had happened?

  James very carefully lifted her to her feet, and after a few moments, Rafe came out of the woods, the pistol in his hand smoking slightly at the muzzle.

  “James,” he said. “Go in there after him. Use the rope you’ve got, tie him up, and I’ll send some men as soon as I am back at the castle. He won’t be going anywhere at all. His leg is quite done in, what with my beautiful wife’s endeavors and now my own.”

  “Is he dead?” she asked.

  “No, he’ll go to trial that one. We’ll find out who did this.” He gathered her into his arms, frantic. “Tell me you are well, my love?”

  She pressed her face into his chest, shaking now. “I am,” she said. “I am.”

  “My God,” he bit out, “You’re so brave, Penelope. How did you do it?”

  “I don’t know,” she gasped. “But I knew that I had to, to protect myself and our child.”

  “I put you in such danger,” he ground out.

  “You didn’t,” she protested.

  “Oh, yes, I did,” he said darkly. “I should’ve had guards to protect you.”

  “Don’t, Rafe,” she warned. “This is the life that I have chosen.”

  “But I almost lost you.” His gaze, wild and worried, searched hers.

  “Every day is a risk,” she reminded as she felt a wave of calm take her. “Every day is a chance, and we must take it.”

  “I’m taking you to the house now, and I’m demanding a doctor come and visit you at once.”

  “I agreed to all of that,” she said. “Please hold me in your arms.”

  And he did.

  He swept her up in his embrace and carried her back to the house. And as she held onto him tightly, she only prayed that he would not allo
w this to take him backwards, into fear, as he had been before.

  Chapter 27

  The emergency meeting of the Dukes’ Club did not take place in London at Number 79 where it always had before.

  Today, it took place at the Duke of Royland’s castle.

  His friends, God bless them, had traveled far and wide to come, all of them bringing their wives, too.

  The near tragedy that had occurred just a few days before still weighed heavily on Rafe’s heart.

  His own pride, his own arrogance, had nearly destroyed his family.

  The first steps he took to counter his past actions had been to writing letters to every single one of his dear friends, and to Heath.

  They’d all come the moment they received the missives, and it filled Rafe’s heart with such gladness to know that he was the luckiest of men.

  Lucky in so many ways.

  As he sat now in his study, surrounded by said friends, he drew in a deep breath.

  “I’ve been an utter fool,” he declared.

  “You’re a man, are you not?” Drake drawled with an arched brow. “We are all fools.”

  Rafe rolled his eyes though he loved his friend for his levity.

  Even now, it was impossible for Drake to be serious, and Rafe was damned glad.

  He needed that at this moment.

  “I must do better,” Rafe proclaimed, leaning forward in his leather chair.

  “Mustn’t we all?” pointed out Raventon, his dark hair feathering his brow. “Every single day, man, I’m shown by my beloved wife that I’m a bit of a fool. I think every single one of us in this room has at, one point, played that role.”

  Rafe felt grateful for his friend’s attempt at kindness, but he wouldn’t shirk from his responsibilities. “Yes, but I nearly got my wife killed.”

  “You’re not alone there, mon,” Ardore said, his thick burr as strong as ever, despite his title. “I almost got my wife killed in Scotland.”

  Blackstone led out a shudder. “And, my wife was taken in London.”

  Harley grimaced. “We’ve all had our moments.”

  “You see,” Raventon continued, his voice powerful and unwavering, “we all are not as perfect as we wish we were, and being men of power, well. . .”

  “You’re targets,” Heath cut in from his place where he leaned against the fireplace mantle. “Every single one of you is going to be targeted by someone for something, and so will your family. You all need to address this.”

  Rafe drove a hand through his hair before looking to the man he was lucky enough to call friend. “Forgive me, Heath. I should have taken up your offer sooner and been more serious about it.”

  Heath gave a curt nod, his face hard but sympathetic. “It’s understandable. You were only looking out for yourself then, and so, you had no concern, but now you have a great deal to protect.”

  “I certainly do,” Rafe agreed. “And now, I think that we must all do the same.”

  “And, what’s that?” Blackstone asked, seriously.

  Rafe paused then turned to the Londoner and said, “I think we all need to have Heath ensure that our wives and our children are protected.”

  Heath looked at him, a muscle tightening in his jaw. “I don’t run a bodyguard service.”

  “No,” Rafe gave the man a long, hopeful stare. A stare that was also unrelenting. “But you could, most likely, start one, couldn’t you?”

  Heath looked at him as if he was a bit mad. “I could.” He let out a rough breath. “For aristocrats. Oh, God, I’m protecting the very people I can’t stand.”

  “You’re friends with the very people you can’t stand,” Rafe reminded with a degree of amusement.

  “True,” Heath agreed. He threw his hands up in rare surrender. “I suppose I can’t get away from that particular fact.”

  “No, you can’t,” Drake said jovially. “And, you’d be splendid at it, old boy, better than anyone else I know.”

  “Remember, you offered to have people look after me,” Rafe reminded.

  “You make me sound like a nanny,” Heath said dryly before he inclined his head. “Consider it done. I’d have insisted you all find protection in any case.”

  Rafe nodded, more relieved than he could say. “Good. That’s done. Now, I must admit, I’m considering withdrawing from politics.”

  A voice from the door broke in, “Don’t you dare.”

  All of the men whipped towards that one, powerful sound.

  There she stood. His Penelope. Her face was pale, but her shoulders were squared back, her hands resting on her ever-growing belly.

  There had been one day where they were very afraid that they were going to lose everything, but it had passed, and the doctor had assured them all would be well.

  “Penelope,” he began gently.

  “No, Rafe,” she declared firmly. “I will not be swayed. I will not allow others to ruin our happiness, or to ruin our cause.”

  He looked about the room, seeking reinforcement, but when his friends said nothing, he protested with forced calm, “Think of our child.”

  “I do,” she replied, her voice full with passion. “What kind of world do you want our child to grow up in? We must teach ourselves and our child how to live in this world and how to still do what needs to be done without being full of fear.”

  Rafe stood in awe of her fearless determination. She was the perfect duchess.

  Of course, she was right.

  His ancestors had always faced danger. His was simply a new kind, and he had to learn to adapt to it. “I can’t argue with you, my love.”

  She smiled then. “I’m glad you know it, for I’ve been speaking with all the other wives, and we’re all in agreement too. We cannot yield to this sort of threat or to this sort of intimidation.”

  And, with that, Penelope and all of the other wives of the Dukes’ Club’s members strode into the room. They made a formidable group of women.

  They stood with their heads held high, their beautiful faces full of ardor for their beliefs.

  “I stand with Penelope,” said the Duchess of Drake, having made amends with her husband and found joy again.

  The Duchess of Blackstone nodded. “We shall do this, and we should do it well.”

  “I couldnae have said it better myself,” said the Duchess of Raventon, her Scottish accent thick.

  “We’ll not let any man stop us.” The Duchess of Harley grinned. “We were made for this sort of life, and we certainly aren’t going to be intimidated now.”

  The Duchess of Blackstone fixed Rafe with her strong gaze, “We all chose to be women of power, and you are men of power. We cannot step back from that. And we have a role to play in society. We cannot simply be ornaments, sparkling, taking all of the funds and doing nothing in return for it. It is our job and our duty to make England better.”

  “And, therefore,” said Penelope, positively beaming as she stood surrounded by support, “we will.”

  Rafe’s heart swelled with pride, and he knew that his friends felt the same.

  Each man went to his wife and drew her into his arms.

  Rafe couldn’t imagine anything more perfect than this moment. All of them together, all of them working as a unified source for the good of England, and all of them having each other to rely upon.

  Heath lingered in the corner of the room for a moment, then with a nod of approval, he slipped away.

  Rafe wondered briefly if Heath would ever find his happiness. He deserved it. Suddenly, much to his shock, Rafe also wondered if he could help make it happen. It would be a good deed done. . .

  But then, he turned back to his wife, absorbed in the beauty of her face, the soft curve of her belly, and the intelligence in her eyes that he admired so much.

  Their future wasn’t going to be easy, and it was going to be dangerous, but it would be worth the risk because, what else was life worth living for besides the love and the betterment of the future for those that were still to come?
<
br />   Epilogue.

  They named the baby Liberty.

  Rafe laughed. “You know, my father will never forgive us.” “That’s not true. Your father already approved of it,” Penelope said, looking down at her daughter, who was absolutely perfect.

  Liberty’s curls were abundantly full for a newborn. Her entire head was a mop of them. She’d never seen such a thing in all of her life, and she was absolutely absorbed with the way her baby looked.

  “You can’t be serious,” he said, sitting beside her as she cradled the baby on their bed.

  “Oh, I am,” she returned, loving the feel of him beside her. “I asked your father before we decided upon it, if he would be all right with such an egalitarian name.”

  Rafe beamed happily. “I can scarcely believe that he said yes.”

  “He did,” she enthused, so proud of her father-in-law. “As did your mother, and my father was most pleased.”

  “Of course your father was pleased.” Rafe teased. “He loves that égalité, liberté, fraternité business.”

  “Don’t forget sororité,” she said, before she kissed her daughter’s perfect cheek.

  “Never, my love. Never will I forget it.”

  She stared down at Liberty’s face again, her heart nearly bursting with love. “Do you think she’ll make changes in this world?”

  “She’s your daughter,” Rafe said proudly. “Of course she will.”

  “And, she’s yours too,” Penelope said happily. “She looks most pleased with herself.”

  “Oh, yes,” he agreed, stroking his daughter’s tiny arm. “I can see myself in the shape of her nose. She’s going to win every heart around her.”

  “You mean she’s going to be a female rake?” Penelope burst out.

  He groaned. “Please, God, help me, no, but she does look like she’s going to be an absolute charmer.”

  “We’re going to have to teach her how to use her freedom,” Penelope said.

  “Yes, we’ll make her strong,” Rafe promised. “We won’t hold her back in anything.”

  “She’ll be the daughter of a duke,” Penelope mused. “And she’ll be an heiress. There will be very little that she can’t do.”