The Forgotten Duke

by Sophie Barnes

  She laughed bitterly. What good would her title do her then? What solace would she find in having done her duty when even Stokes had made it clear that he had no desire to marry? Indeed his features had softened with gratitude when she’d said she would find a solution. But could she go through with it? She clutched her dress tighter. If she sought refuge with friends her father would find her. The inevitable would only be delayed. So where would she go?

  She pondered these questions for hours while pacing her bedchamber floor, until she was sure she must have worn out the sheen. Each question left her more indecisive and unsure than the last. At some point during the night, she’d put on her wedding gown and matching bonnet for no other purpose than to confirm how ridiculous she would look. She still wore it now as the darkness began to recede to the corners of her room. Dawn was breaking and she’d soon lose her chance to leave.

  Could she be brave and do the unexpected? Could she face the unknown alone?

  “I have to,” she murmured. It was time to put herself first for a change. Only then would she stand a chance of building the sort of future she wished for – a future she hadn’t even known she wanted until today. But the truth was that she dreamed of falling in love and of being loved in return. She longed for compatibility with a man strong and healthy enough to be her partner for life.

  Glancing at her cheval glass, she considered the woman reflected back and made her decision. “I have to save myself and Stokes from misery.”

  But first, she had to get changed.

  So she reached for the end of the ribbons that held her bonnet in place and prepared to give them a pull when the sound of an upstairs door closing caused her to pause. The servants were already rising. There wasn’t any more time.

  Giving a resolute nod, she abandoned the thought of putting on a more practical dress, eased her bedchamber door open and stopped to listen. The clock in the hall chimed five. Soon the maids would start cleaning the downstairs rooms.

  With this in mind, Regina stepped into the hallway and headed toward the stairs. Descending them on her tiptoes, she made her way into the foyer. No one was about yet. The front door was right there. Unguarded.

  Regina moved toward it, unbolted the lock, and opened the door to cool morning air. Mist sat low in the street, concealing most of the buildings. Heart pounding, she glanced back over her shoulder once before stepping outside, closing the door behind her, and breaking into a run.

  She wasn’t sure where she was going exactly, but she had to get out of Mayfair before someone saw her and forced her to go back home. The wrath she would face there would likely surpass what her father had shown toward Marcus last night.

  Turning onto Piccadilly, she raced toward a side street and almost skidded into it in her haste to escape the clatter of hooves from a carriage somewhere behind her. This was madness. Good God, what was she thinking? Perhaps she ought to go back before anyone realized she was missing. But her feet didn’t slow, they just kept going as if propelled by the part of her brain that refused to accept what her parents were doing. Why would they force such a hasty wedding upon her or Stokes? Why was her father so unrelenting? It was almost as if this match mattered more to him than she did.

  Regina’s chest tightened against the air being forced in and out of her lungs. She had no idea where she was now, she reflected as her slippers struck the pavement with increasing speed. The streets and buildings were unfamiliar, though still somewhat respectable.

  Something clanged behind her, causing her to dart down a street to her left where she almost smashed into a man. He staggered sideways, his hand briefly touching her elbow as she swerved around him.

  “Looking for a groom?” His drunken voice turned to lewd laughter. “I’ll help you out!”

  Ignoring him, Regina continued on her way with increased determination. The silk netting and lace billowing out around her merged with the thickening fog in a ghostly effect. Three streets later, her toe caught an uneven spot on the ground and she tripped, stumbling forward with a gasp. Her arms cartwheeled as she made a desperate attempt to maintain her balance. But her body was angled too far forward, and her speed only added momentum to the fall that now seemed inevitable.

  Until her entire front connected with something warm and wonderfully solid that instantly stopped her descent. An arm came around her, bracing her against the person who’d caught her, and Regina instinctively started to struggle.

  “What the devil?” a masculine voice muttered. “Be still, damn it!

  Regina gasped and looked up at the man who now held her.

  A pair of coffee-colored eyes stared down into hers with mesmerizing intensity. Raven locks protruded at haphazard angles from beneath the brim of a velvet top hat. Expressive eyebrows drew together in wonder, puckering a prominent forehead and drawing Regina’s attention toward the man’s nose. It was elegantly shaped in a chiseled straight line that slanted toward a neatly trimmed moustache. The dense hair hovered above a wide mouth that presently smirked at her with what could only be described as lethal amusement.

  Recognizing him from all the sketches she’d seen in the newspapers over the years, she blurted the first thing that came to her mind. “I know who you are.” Carlton Guthrie’s notoriety was such that not knowing who he was would have been impossible. His smirk became more pronounced as the edge of his mouth curled upward. “You’re the Scoundrel of St. Giles.”

  2

  “At yer service,” Carlton said while continuing to hold the young woman who’d hurled herself into his arms. Not because he’d quit being a gentleman the day his father died, or because he wished to exert his power over her, but because there were very few pleasures to be had in this life and he’d decided to savor each one. “And who, might I ask, are ye?”

  She tilted her chin up a notch. To some, she might have seemed confident, but Carlton didn’t miss the tremor in her jawline or the pulse vibrating at her neck. “Lady Regina Berkly, if you please.” Even her voice was strained and a notch too high. “And since you are here, I would,” she glanced around quickly before returning her gaze to him and raising her chin even higher, “like to enlist your help.”

  He bristled in response to her name, which was all too familiar. If she was somehow related to the man who’d haunted his nightmares for two long decades, he’d bloody well use her to take his revenge. Already a cool sweat had broken out at the nape of his neck. Clenching his fingers in the mass of fabric surrounding her, he attempted to slow the blood rushing through his veins.

  Forcing a bland expression even as his heart thumped, he released her and casually asked, “With what?”

  She squared her shoulders and tried to adjust the layers of billowing white around her. A pointless attempt at pretending that strolling around St. Giles and asking criminals for help was a normal everyday occurrence for her. “With avoiding my wedding.”

  “You’re—” he gave her a full perusal and acknowledged that the silk netting now made sense— “a bride.”

  A firm nod confirmed this. “Forced into unhappy matrimony with the Marquess of Stokes.”

  His muscles tensed so much they started to tremble. Effecting indifference became an immediate challenge. The Marquess of Stokes. He knew the title well, though he did not know the face of the man who currently held it.

  With the fierceness of a general warding off an enemy on the attack, Carlton kept the past at bay so he could think. He considered his options carefully for a moment and eventually asked. “Who are ye related to, exactly?”

  “The Earl of Hedgewick is my father. My brother is—”

  “Viscount Seabrook. Yes, I know.”

  She looked at him with some surprise but Carlton didn’t bother explaining. He only smiled and offered his arm. “I’d be delighted to give ye sanctuary fer as long as ye need it, me lady. ’Tis the least I can do to ensure yer safety.”

  Instead of accepting his offer however, she took a step back. “You want me to come with you?”
r />   “How else do ye propose I help ye?”

  “I…” She glanced around again and it became clear her courage was finally starting to fail. “I’m not sure. Perhaps…perhaps coming here was a mistake.” She stepped back even further.

  Carlton dropped his arm and did his best to appear as non-threatening as possible. “Of course it was,” he agreed. “St. Giles is no place fer a lady.” Deliberately, he tipped the brim of his hat. “I wish ye luck with yer wedding.”

  Without making another move, he watched as doubt crept into her eyes, but her fear also seemed to have grown as she’d taken stock of her surroundings, which included a one-legged man with an eye-patch who stared at them from a doorway, and a ragged old woman hobbling past. So instead of accepting his help after all, Lady Regina turned on her heels and strode away.

  Carlton deliberately let her go. St. Giles was a complex maze of alleyways filled with people who made their living from preying on others. It was just a matter of time before she discovered that she was lost or found herself in dire straits. The edge of his mouth curved upward. When he’d offered to take her home with him, she’d panicked, and rightfully so he supposed, given his reputation. But if he helped her…

  His smile widened as he went in pursuit. Lady Regina could prove a useful asset if he could convince her to stay, but doing so would require her trust. He turned a corner, half expecting to spot some hint of her billowing gown through the now receding fog.

  When he didn’t, he frowned and quickened his pace. Until an undignified shriek pierced the air and alerted him to her location. Breaking into a run that almost sent his top hat flying, he raced to her rescue.

  Her voice quivered through the air with panic. “Get your filthy hands off of me!”

  Carlton rounded a corner and took quick stock of the situation. Pinned against a wall, Lady Regina wriggled and kicked as she tried to evade the man who held her. A brawny fellow dressed in drab clothes was pushing up against her with vile menace while his friend slid the tip of a knife up the length of her throat.

  “Not a chance,” the brawny man said with a low chuckle. “It’s not every day we find ourselves in such splendid company.”

  Fists clenched, Carlton stepped forward with every intention of doing bodily harm to these men if they hurt her. “I’d recommend that ye do as the lady demands,” he drawled.

  The men froze at the sound of his voice and the brawny man looked over his shoulder. The moment his eyes met Carlton’s, he sprang back as if propelled by a spring. His friend dropped the knife and slid sideways along the wall.

  “Our apologies, Mr. Guthrie,” the brawny man muttered. “We meant no disrespect.”

  Carlton glared back at them. “I dare say ye didn’t.” He moved toward the spot where Lady Regina still stood, trembling from head to toe while the two men retreated. “Apologize to the lady, lads, or I’ll punish ye fer yer inconsideration.”

  The brawny man gulped, nodded three times and sputtered, “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I,” his friend blurted.

  “Won’t happen again. We’ll just…thank you kindly and be on our way.”

  The pair took off down the alley like a pair of terrified boys who believed the devil was out to get them.

  Carlton waited until they were out of sight before turning toward Lady Regina. Wide-eyed, she stared at him as he took a few cautious steps toward her. “Are ye all right?”

  She nodded.

  “Ye’re not hurt in any way?”

  “No. Not really,” she managed, in a voice much weaker than the one she’d used when they’d first met. “Just a bit bruised, I suspect.”

  Muttering a curse beneath his breath, Carlton chastised himself for not acting sooner. If he’d stayed closer to her, he could have stopped the men before they grabbed her. But it was too late for regrets now. So he offered his arm once again. “I know ye don’t wish to come with me, but this is no place fer a lady.”

  Still, she hesitated. “Where will you take me?”

  “Somewhere safe where ye can get yer bearings and decide what ye want to do next.” Spotting a hint of red at her neck he tamped down the anger that rose up. Instead, he jutted his chin toward her. “Ye’ve been nicked. Might be wise to ’ave that wound tended to.”

  Apprehension captured her features. “I—”

  “Ye’ll not be harmed while ye’re with me.” At least not as long as she served a purpose. “Ye’ve me word on that.”

  She seemed to consider and then, with the greatest degree of hesitation he’d ever seen, she stepped forward, accepting his escort like a lamb agreeing to accompany the wolf.

  Her shoulder bumped against him as he drew her close to his side, the added contact jostling something inside his chest. She smelled like springtime, like a breeze infused with the scents of blossoms and honey. It was rather enchanting in this dismal part of town where the stench from the gutters tended to overwhelm.

  It’s just a touch of soap and perfume. Nothing magical. Don’t let it distract you.

  And yet, in spite of the fact that he meant to use her to his advantage, he could not help but ask, “Are ye sure ye trust me?”

  She gave him a startled look. “You saved me. And besides, it seems like you’re my best option at the moment.” She said the last part so quietly he almost missed the remark.

  An odd sensation swept through him, causing a tightening of his heart and a general sense of unease. No. He would not pity her. She was the daughter of the one person in this Godforsaken world whom he wanted to torture until he begged for death to save him. Years of planning and two failed attempts had made him realize that bringing a peer to his knees was no simple task. It required endless amounts of patience, planning, and waiting for just the right moment to strike. And that moment was now. He could not allow a beautiful face and a haunted pair of dazzling blue eyes to make him second guess his resolve.

  Not after everything he’d gone through in order to get to this point.

  So he decided to hold his tongue and not ask her to elaborate further. The less he knew about her, the better. To sympathize with her would be disastrous.

  “This way, me lady.” With a firm tug, he steered her forward, further into St. Giles and toward the street leading back to The Black Swan. The occasional cripple held out a scrawny hand as they passed. Further along, they encountered a filthy youth with a hollow gaze who was pushing a cart full of rags.

  “I wish I had a few coins with me,” Lady Regina said when they’d gone a few additional paces.

  Don’t take the bait. Do not let her lure you into conversation.

  “Why?” he asked, the word springing from his lips like a foxhound giving chase.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw her tilt back her head and look at him from beneath the brim of her bonnet, and try as he might, he could not help but turn his gaze more fully toward her. Which was a mistake, of course. Her eyes, devoid of cynicism and hardship, were like a pair of lighthouses in the lilac shades of dawn. And he was but a sailor caught in a violent storm, helplessly drawn to the welcoming glow they emitted.

  “There are people here who appear to have more use for them than I.” The blueness in her eyes deepened and shimmered like pools of water reflecting the heavens. “It would be nice to help them.”

  Carlton cleared his throat and forced his gaze away. Clenching his jaw, he told himself that this was the sort of thing any young woman would say upon spotting a beggar. He told himself that Lady Regina was simply doing the expected. Not because she was kind or considerate but because a few coins given away would make little difference to her. In fact, it would only improve her self-worth by making her feel like she’d done a good deed. Which in turn would allow her to sleep well at night. It was not because she genuinely cared.

  Except he knew from the pure serenity in her gaze that she did care rather a lot and that he was now trying to tell himself otherwise.

  God damn it.

  “We’re almost there,” he g
rumbled, his mood darkening on account of the danger she posed to his carefully crafted persona. Carlton Guthrie was supposed to be a crime lord, a hardened criminal without any scruples. The sort of man people feared.

  “Did I say something wrong?” she asked.

  “No.”

  He would not engage her further. Not when The Black Swan loomed ahead, its crooked wall slanting outward as if it might fall right into the street at any second. The timbered framework held it in place, supporting the brick and plaster. Thick rippling glass windows set in black lead dotted the façade. A sign, suspended by wrought iron swirls, depicted a black swan against a tarnished background. The script beneath was a perfect match for the artwork, the bold letters calling out to men in need of drink, a night of gambling, or the thrill of a fight. The prize to be won by those who managed to best one of Carlton’s fighters was always tempting, though it remained unclaimed.

  “What is that?” Regina asked, pulling away from him slightly so she could get a better view of something that must have caught her interest.

  Since he’d yet to get her inside and doing so would be simpler if she went willingly, he decided to humor her by answering her question with one of his own. “What is what, me dear?”

  She pointed one finger at the building next door. “Amourette’s.” Her nose twitched as she spoke the word. “I find it a very interesting name for a business.”

  Carlton bit back a surge of involuntary laughter and schooled his features. “I take it ye’ve never seen a brothel before,” he remarked as if he believed she should have done so at some point in her life.

  Her lips parted and her eyes almost looked like they might fall out of her head. A delightful shade of pink swept upward from her neckline before disappearing beneath her bonnet.

  “So there are courtesans in there?” The question contained a pinch of nervousness, a spoonful of embarrassment, a cup of condemnation, and a gallon of genuine curiosity.