The Dark Duke

by Margaret Moore

  She swallowed hard and set her fork down with a trembling hand. “I’m flattered,” she murmured.

  He put his other hand on her shoulder and suddenly she felt his lips on the nape of her neck. “My lord!” she cried, pushing back her chair and rising swiftly, then turning to face him. “What are you doing?”

  He smiled. “Kissing the object of my desire.”

  “That is most improper,” she said firmly, hoping she didn’t sound as frightened as she felt.

  “I found it rather pleasurable.”

  “My lord!” Hester said, glaring at him. “You forget yourself.”

  “I never do that,” he replied calmly, taking a step toward her.

  “Your mother will be here—”

  “My mother rarely comes here, and certainly not the morning after a ball. She will sleep till noon, at least.”

  “The duke—”

  “Has gone into town.” Hester gasped at this unexpected revelation. “Surprised?”

  Hester quickly regained control of herself. Lord Elliot could very well be lying. “Why should I be surprised?”

  “No particular reason, I suppose. I daresay he’s gone to visit Sally Newcombe.”

  Hester had had quite enough of Lord Elliot’s lies and disrespectful conduct. She marched to the door, turned the knob—and it didn’t open. “It’s stuck,” she said out loud.

  “It’s locked,” Lord Elliot said close behind her. Suddenly he grabbed her arm, turned her around and pulled her hard against him. “I didn’t want to be disturbed.”

  “Let me go!” she said, panic in her voice and in her heart as she stared up at his face, seeing the lust in his eyes and something more. Anger. Bitter, burning anger that was truly frightening. “Let me go!”

  “What’s this? Going all indignant, are we, Lady Hester? That’s a bit hypocritical, isn’t it?”

  “You should know all about hypocrisy, my lord.”

  “Such fire! Such a temper! And to think I thought you plain and dowdy. Obviously I was quite mistaken.” He forced his hot, moist lips over her mouth, robbing her of breath and filling her with disgust.

  “Stop it!” she cried when he finally drew back. “I shall call the servants!”

  Lord Elliot smiled and shook his head as he loosened his grip slightly. “That would not be wise, my dear. Not after last night.”

  “What…what about last night?” she gasped.

  “I saw you sneaking out of Adrian’s room. Fine companion for my mother you are, I must say. I wonder what she’ll say when I tell her about your nocturnal rambles?”

  Hester stared at him, unable to speak. Horrified to discover that he had seen her. Very aware of how he would make last night sound to the duchess, who would Cell her parents, her friends, even the most minor acquaintances.

  His grip tightened. “Of course, there’s no need for me to do that.”

  “No, there isn’t,” Hester confirmed desperately. “Just as there is no need for me to tell your mother about Miss Smith.”

  Lord Elliot chuckled. “Go ahead. Tell her. My mother knows what Miss Smith is. She’ll be sure the woman enticed me.”

  “You are evil, my lord!”

  “Yes, I suppose so,” he replied lightly. “Selfish, too, but why not? I can afford to be, since my dear brother takes his responsibilities so much to heart.” His expression grew hard and bitter. “You, however, are in no such comfortable position.”

  “What do you want?” Hester asked, her fear growing with every moment.

  “Just what you gave Adrian. A night’s pleasure. Or possibly two.”

  “We didn’t—”

  “Oh, please, Lady Hester, there’s no need to play the virgin for me. It won’t help you.”

  “Adrian and I are going to be married!”

  Lord Elliot’s frown deepened and a strange expression flickered in his blue eyes. “He told you that, did he? That old ploy!”

  “It isn’t a ploy!” she retorted. “He loves me! And I love him.”

  “It’s a lie,” he said sternly. “He won’t. He won’t want to sully your purity with his debauched reputation.”

  Desperate to get away, she struggled as he put his arms around her. If the whole household had to learn what had happened last night, she would have to bear that. Anything was better than being trapped in this man’s terrible embrace.

  “I know all about you,” she charged. “I know he hasn’t done half of what he’s accused of. He’s been taking the blame for your misdeeds.”

  “My, my, my, he has been talkative. He must care for you more than I thought. I had assumed he took you just to annoy me.”

  “He didn’t take me!”

  “More fool him. Still, that means he’ll be even more determined to keep last night’s visit a secret, wouldn’t you say?” Lord Elliot continued to glare at her with hatred in his eyes. “If you don’t come to me tonight, I will spread the most vile rumors I can think of about him, and believe me, my dear, I can think of some that are totally disgusting. I have several acquaintances who will be only too happy to support whatever tales I choose to tell, provided I pay a little. Lots of other people won’t question the source, not when the Dark Duke’s the subject.

  “It’s up to you, Hester. One night with me to save what’s left of Adrian’s reputation, or I destroy him.”

  “You would do that, after all he’s done for you?”

  Lord Elliot shoved his face close to hers. “You, Lady Hester, are in no position to criticize me, crawling out of my brother’s bed like a whore! All I’m asking you is to whore once more, for his sake.”

  She reddened, but met his gaze squarely. “I am not a whore!”

  “A mere academic distinction.” He let her go and she ran to the door, rattling the handle and banging on it. “I wouldn’t trouble myself, my dear” Lord Elliot said calmly. “The door is thick, and Jenkins is deaf.”

  “Others are not!” Her hands ached, so she stopped banging and faced Elliot once more. “I know why you are so spiteful,” she said. “He presumes too much. He decides for others, whether they wish him to or not. I told him so last night, when he was even going to sacrifice his happiness for your sake. He would never have said a word of his feelings for me if I had not assured him that I could never love you. That was why I was in his bedroom, to find out once and for all if he cared for me.”

  Lord Elliot’s gaze faltered for the briefest of moments. “Well, you certainly know how to prick a man’s pride,” he muttered. “However, it matters not to me if you despise me. I will have you, or Adrian will pay the price.”

  “Don’t come near me again!” Hester warned as Lord Elliot looked at her.

  “Not for the moment,” he replied coolly. “But remember what I said. My mother will learn all about you and Adrian if you don’t come to my bedroom tonight after the household is retired, and then I’ll show you both just how thoroughly a reputation can be ruined.”

  “I’ll tell the duke what you’ve proposed.”

  Lord Elliot looked completely unconcerned as he sat in a chair and crossed his arms. “Go ahead. I shall not suffer for it. The decision is yours, my dear. Tonight with me, or I shall totally destroy the Dark Duke.”

  Hester regarded him as she would a loathsome insect, and then her brow furrowed as if concentrating. “If I come to you tonight, will you mend your ways?”

  “Will you convince your lover to leave me alone?”

  “Will you take responsibility for your actions? Will Adrian be free of his obligation toward you?”

  “If you come to me tonight, and if you marry Adrian, and if you then convince your husband to raise the paltry allowance he gives me, I will try to be a good boy.”

  “Elliot? Is that you?” the duchess demanded querulously from behind the locked door. “What is the meaning of all this noise?”

  “It’s nothing serious, Mama!” Lord Elliot called out. “Jenkins has inadvertently locked Lady Hester and I in here.”

  “Jenkins
!” the duchess shouted imperiously. “Jenkins!”

  “Oh, how can I believe you?” Hester moaned softly, paying scant attention to the interruption.

  “Because I say it,” Lord Elliot said quietly, his face hard and cold as ice on metal. “Despite what you may think, I am not completely and utterly devoid of honor.”

  “You most certainly are.”

  “Not yet, my dear, not yet.”

  “Why do you want me, knowing that I shall despise you all the while?”

  Lord Elliot’s lips jerked into a sarcastic smile. “Because Adrian does, and you cannot deny he is a man of exquisite taste.”

  The door suddenly burst open, to reveal an annoyed duchess and a contrite Jenkins. “I can’t think how I did it, and then lost the key,” he mumbled, surveying the damaged lock.

  “Excuse me, Your Grace,” Hester said, pushing past the startled woman.

  “Well, really!” the duchess huffed.

  “I suppose she’s fatigued,” Elliot said by way of explanation as he smiled to himself, certain that tonight, she would be his.

  She would do everything she could to save what remained of Adrian’s reputation.

  Because she loved him.

  Adrian tipped his hat and strode from Mapleton’s house toward his waiting horse, determined to get home at once and see Hester as soon as possible. Perhaps she was still sleeping, he thought with a small smile. It had been a very late night.

  His smile changed to a frown. After he saw Hester he would confront Elliot, and tell him he was on his own from this time forward.

  Hester was right. He had coddled Elliot far too long.

  Then Adrian stopped in his tracks, for as a hired carriage rolled by, he thought he recognized the passenger sitting inside.

  Surely it couldn’t be. What would Elizabeth Howell be doing here?

  Chapter Twenty

  Adrian would far rather have left for home at once, but he felt that this mysterious arrival of Elizabeth Howell had better be investigated first. She was supposed to be in Manchester with her brother.

  He walked as quickly as he could to the yard of the inn where the carriage had stopped and waited until the woman he thought was Elizabeth had disembarked. Then he sauntered into the public rooms and looked about casually, as if he were merely contemplating a drink instead of searching for somebody.

  Around him, people fell silent, for it was not often the duke patronized the Bull and Calf. Most of its customers were the local farmers or travelers passing through.

  His eyes came to rest upon a lone woman, seated in a far corner as if she was trying to make herself disappear.

  It was Elizabeth. What was she doing here? What could she be doing here? Coming to confront Elliot? While he could understand that reason, it would do her no good. It would have been better for her to make a fresh start, and if Elliot were to be cast adrift, it might be better if he could start completely afresh, too.

  Adrian strolled to her, pensively noting that for once, his reputation came to his aid, for he knew no one would question the Dark Duke’s interest in a woman, especially a young and pretty one.

  Or, he realized as he sat on the bench, a young woman who had been pretty once. The strain of childbirth and her grief was still evident in her too-pale skin, the dark circles beneath her too-bright eyes, and the trembling of her filthy hand as it reached out for the mug of ale before her.

  Worse, he was sure she was not well, for there was a feverish blush high on her cheeks.

  “Hello, Elizabeth,” he said softly. She looked as if a normal tone of voice would shatter her delicate equilibrium.

  Startled, she reared back and stared at him.

  “It is I, the Duke of Barroughby,” he continued, still in little more than a whisper.

  “Have you come to help me again?”

  He tried to act as if nothing were amiss, although everything was wrong, from the way she looked, to her traveling alone, to the fervent, feverish brightness in her eyes. “Yes.”

  “Is he with you?” she asked, looking past him into the room. Those customers who had been surreptitiously watching the duke suddenly turned their attention back to their drinks and conversation. “Has he escaped?”

  “Who?”

  “Elliot, of course! Is he with you? Has he escaped from the dungeon?”

  Adrian frowned. “I don’t quite understand,” he murmured, yet fearing that he did, all too well.

  “His mother has locked him up. I know it. I’ve come to rescue him.” Then Elizabeth gasped and her eyes widened with sudden panic. “You can’t stop me! I will free him!”

  She half rose, until he put his hand on her arm. “I have come to help you,” he said.

  “Truly?”

  “Yes. Absolutely.” He had never seen anyone more in need of help than this pathetic creature. “I am simply surprised that you are here. Didn’t you go to Manchester, Elizabeth? Your journey was paid for.”

  “I couldn’t go, not while he was locked away. That’s why he hasn’t come to find me. He can’t. I know it.”

  Elliot’s actions had had serious consequences before, but never anything like this.

  Adrian desperately wondered what he was going to do. He couldn’t leave her here. “He loves me,” Elizabeth continued in a lullaby-soft singsong voice. “He’ll always love me. And when he’s free, we’ll find our baby.”

  Sweet Jesus, she is mad! Adrian had seen the dead baby, had touched its cold, lifeless little fingers. “Oh, Elizabeth,” he murmured, reaching out to stroke her hand. “Elizabeth, let me help you!”

  “Can we go now? To Elliot?” She stood, suddenly eager.

  “Yes, but not right away”, Adrian said, grasping her hand. The extreme warmth he felt told him she was burning with fever. He must get her to help.

  Not the doctor. Dr. Woadly was too often employed by the duchess to be impartial. He would probably want to send the poor woman to a madhouse, too. Adrian had seen such a place once, when certain acquaintances of his had suggested a tour of Bedlam as a pleasant afternoon’s diversion. He had been the worse for drink, or he never would have agreed. And then he had wished he had been drunker, for the horrendous scenes he had witnessed had been with him vividly ever since. He could not subject Elizabeth Howell to such treatment.

  He would take her to John Mapleton. “Come with me, Elizabeth.”

  Her eyes narrowed as he hesitated and she wrenched her hand from his grasp. “I must help him now!” she cried, drawing the other patrons’ attention.

  “Elizabeth,” he said quietly, “Elliot isn’t locked up—he’s trying to convince my stepmother that she should meet you. I’m sure he told you what she is like.” Adrian could just hear Elliot denouncing the duchess, making himself the misunderstood son of a domineering mother, and so in need of the poor girl’s pity and love. He had used the tactic before, as Adrian well knew.

  Elizabeth nodded slowly.

  “My stepmother has only to see you to love you,” Adrian persisted. “But wouldn’t you like to be better prepared to meet her? I will take you to another inn, one with rooms more suitable to a lady. There you can wash and change your clothes. Do your hair. And then we will go together to Barroughby Hall.”

  “I want to see him now!”

  “In your traveling dress, Elizabeth?”

  “I didn’t bring anything else,” she said helplessly.

  “Of course. I should have guessed that. You were thinking of rescue, not meeting the duchess. Shall we surprise her with your beauty? I will buy you a new dress today. At once. And then you can wear it to Barroughby Hall. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

  She hesitated and he pressed on. “Perhaps some ribbons for your hair. Elliot has told the duchess about your hair.” It was a monstrous lie, but his words seemed to be having the necessary effect. “And some shoes. Perhaps a bouquet of flowers to carry? You’ll look like a bride.”

  She twisted a loosened strand of her hair in her grimy fingers, a horrible reminder of o
ne of her formerly common and coy gestures. “I would, wouldn’t I?”

  “Yes! We’ll have a bite of lunch first, shall we? I’m famished, and I’m sure you must be hungry after your long journey. To think you came all by yourself, too. Elliot will be so proud of you.”

  She smiled, a pathetic creature with hope burning in her feverish eyes, and Adrian despised himself for lying to her. But it had to be done. He had to get her to Mapleton.

  To his relief, she looked at him expectantly. “Shall we go, Your Grace?”

  “Yes, Elizabeth.”

  Adrian stood majestically, willing the witnesses to be awed and thus silent. Then he gallantly took her arm and escorted her from the tavern with great dignity, ignoring the surprised stares of the onlookers. It seemed the very least he could do.

  The duchess entered the drawing room and sat upon the sofa with an unusually languid air, failing completely to notice how tense Hester was as she sewed upon something that was intended to be a reticule but which would be too ruined by uneven stitches ever to be used. She had pricked her finger when the door opened, and now, when she realized it was not Adrian, she turned away to see if she was bleeding.

  After she had escaped the dining room, she had risked asking Mabel to find out where the duke was. Mercifully, the maid didn’t seem to find her request unusual, and soon returned with the dismaying news that the duke had ridden into town to see the surgeon. Jenkins was sure the dancing at the ball had inflamed the duke’s injury, and Hester could believe that, even if Adrian had not spoken of it last night. Probably, she thought with both frustration and acceptance, he had not wanted to worry her.

  But why had he not returned? She had been sitting in the drawing room, which had the best view of the drive, for what seemed an age, expecting to see him returning at any moment.

  Was his injury so affected that Mr. Mapleton wouldn’t allow him to ride home? If that were so, why didn’t Adrian hire a coach?

  “The ball was a great success, was it not?” the duchess observed with a congratulatory smile. “Such hard work, but so delightful. Everyone was completely charming.”

  Hester nodded, reached for her handkerchief to wipe the droplet of blood and remained silent.