What A Wicked Duke Demands (Historical Regency Romance)

by Emily Honeyfield

  The sinewy stable boy within drew a horse from within, added a saddle, and watched as Laura clambered atop. The innkeeper announced, “Safe travels, then. And you’ll have your trunk in due time …”

  At this, Laura slipped her hand into her travel bag and drew out half of the amount, plus the cost of the horse. Only a few coins clanked around in the belly of her bag, now. If anything happened, she would be destitute and out in the chill and the rain. But she had to press on.

  By the time Laura led the horse out of the stables, however, the rain had lifted. She shook atop the horse as it eased towards the road, and her fingers turned white with chill as she squeezed the reins. She focused on the road ahead. It was still afternoon, and there would be plenty of grey light to lead her to her new home. The Treadway House.

  About a mile down, the road grew narrow and dark. Enormous and leafy trees lined either side and towered over her. A long way down the road, she saw light again, and she focused on it like it was heaven itself. But seconds later, she heard the clopping behind her—the sign of horses.

  She whipped her head around to see the two wretched men from the inn. She leaned forward and whispered for the horse to gallop faster, go harder. But within just a few seconds, they had her surrounded: one man on either side. They drew closer to her until she screamed and said, “I’ll stop! I’ll stop!”

  She pulled at the reins, and the horse reared back and neighed. The two men leered at her and slowed their horses before turning back and facing her. She glanced back towards the inn and half-considered going the other way. But it was no use. Their horses were bigger, and they would catch her if they wanted to.

  “What do you want?” she demanded.

  They imitated her. “What do you want?” they echoed, cackling.

  She glowered at them. She’d heard rumours of murder, of dark deaths on lost roads outside of London, but she’d never envisioned it for herself.

  “Let’s see your travel bag,” one of the men side. He pointed at it, hanging there on Laura’s shoulder. “Everything in it.”

  “I haven’t much,” Laura insisted.

  “Come on. The sooner you give it to us, the sooner this is all over,” the other said. “And get down.”

  They all eased off their horses. Laura tried to make sure she didn’t cry. She drew her bag off her shoulder and passed it to them. They pored through it—at the few coins she had, her travel papers, and her letter of reference for the governess position. The man began to unfold the travel documents and letter, while the other collected her coins.

  There was another clopping of hooves. Laura whipped around to see the other man from within the inn, the handsome one who’d read alone near the window. The two men who’d overtaken her glared up at the stranger, and the stranger halted and glowered down at them. He seemed oddly regal, powerful, like he’d been cut from a very different cloth.

  “Gentlemen. I suppose this goes without saying, but I suspect that you have very little business with this woman, do you not?” the stranger said.

  The men blinked at one another. Their grins were malevolent. “What a tough, smart man he is,” one of them said.

  “The brightest in the land,” the other said.

  “Return her things this moment,” the man said. He sprung from his horse. Laura was surprised to see that he was quite a bit taller, with about three inches over the tallest of the two middle-aged men.

  “What are you going to do?” one of the men said.

  The stranger stepped closer to him. Confidence beamed off of him. “I’ll have you know that I come from one of the most important families in this region. If they learn that you laid a single finger on this woman, or on me, they will come after you.”

  One of the men reared forward with his fists rolling. The stranger grabbed his fist and twisted it as hard as he could until the older man winced and cried out. He staggered back, holding his wrist. The other gaped at him, but the stranger kept his ground and pointed at Laura’s travel bag.

  “Now.”

  The men grumbled and slipped her papers back within the pouch. They didn’t return the coins, but Laura didn’t want to press her luck. She grabbed her bag back and slipped it back over her shoulders. The stranger said, “It will behoove you to return to the inn this moment, collect your things, and move along to wherever it is you’re going. Otherwise, we will have even more of a problem.”

  As the men galloped away, Laura pressed her lips together and again told herself not to devolve into any kind of hysterics. When she spoke, her voice was clear and articulate.

  “Thank you ever so much for your assistance,” she said.

  The wind kicked up and raced through his chestnut brown hair. He arched his dark brow and said, “It isn’t entirely ordinary to spot a woman like yourself riding on this road alone. I dare say it’s foolish.”

  Laura flared her nostrils and lifted her chin. She’d always had a bit of a stubborn streak. “I only have a bit further to go,” she said.

  “You can ride with me, if you wish,” the stranger said.

  The offer was tempting, but it pushed a boundary that Laura didn’t want to consider. If she allowed herself to ride with the man, she would most certainly be safe from outsiders. But ultimately, this man was, himself, a stranger, and she wanted nothing less than to be indebted to him or allow him to believe he could be familiar with her. She swallowed and said, “The offer is quite considerate, sir, but I really must continue by myself.”

  The man seemed to understand the strange, whirling thoughts between her ears, although she couldn’t be sure.

  “May I ask your name?”

  “My name is … Laura Johnson,” she said, with enough hesitation to make it seem like a lie.

  The stranger smirked. He clearly knew she had lied but didn’t wish to call her out. He turned and swung his horseback, making the dirt scuffle beneath it. “Laura Johnson. What a remarkably plain name, don’t you think?”

  Laura’s cheeks burned with embarrassment and fear. Was there anyone on this earth she could trust, now that she was far from home? “Remarkably plain? I’m afraid it never passed through my skull to consider myself to be remarkably plain. Perhaps you wish that you’d allowed me to be taken over by those fine gentlemen back there? That’s the sort of thing that should happen to plain women. Don’t you think?”

  His grin widened. Laura demanded of herself, what was she thinking? Was this a strange flirtation, with a man on the road? Already, they were losing still more sunlight. She blinked towards the light at the end of the tree tunnel and followed his lead, back atop her own horse. Up there, all she had to do was live through the strength of his gaze.

  “A fierce creature, she is, Laura Johnson,” he said. Still, he beamed. His mockery wouldn’t end.

  “I wish you a good day, sir,” she offered. She realized, with a pang, that she’d forgotten to ask his name, but soon decided that she didn’t care. “I wish to thank you once more for saving me. I hope you arrive at your destination safely.”

  Without allowing him to answer, Laura rode ahead of the stranger and then drew the horse into a trot. Before long, she raced through the trees and out into the grey light. Moors stretched on either side, with enormous mansions that looked like miniature doll houses dotting the land. She forced herself to breathe—inhale, exhale. It would do no good for her to faint with panic, now that everything was over. Within the hour, she would be safe, in the confines of Treadway House, ready to orchestrate her plan. She had to focus.

  But before long, Laura arrived at a fork in the road. She baulked, and the horse stumbled beneath her. She remembered receiving directions for this portion of the road, yet couldn’t remember—had it been the right fork? The left? Down the centre? Her mind raced. Perhaps she would truly die on that road, frightened and cold, with only the papers that read a false name.

  Horse hooves clopped up behind her once more. Frightened, she turned around to find the stranger once more. His grin was sly, yet end
lessly handsome. She gave him a half-smile herself, recognizing that once again, he was perhaps her only answer.

  “Are you confused?” he asked.

  “Is it so obvious?” she returned.

  He tilted his head. “I don’t suppose you’d like my assistance now, would you?”

  Laura’s cheeks burned yet again. “It’s growing late, and I’m a bit lost. I know I’m close, but …”

  “Where are you off to?”

  All she could do was tell him. She had to be plain about this fact, or else she would be left on her own. Still, her voice was filled with hesitation.

  “I’m headed to Treadway House. I don’t suppose you know it?” she asked.

  The stranger scoffed. “I don’t suppose you’re the new governess, then? My goodness, already getting into such trouble.”

  “I am …” she said. Her heart pattered. Had she somehow made a fool of herself in front of her new employer? And yet this man wasn’t anyone she recognized, and she’d been familiar with the family at Treadway for years.

  “I, too am headed to Treadway House,” he said. “But it seems to me that the family hired a governess by the name of Laura Gateway … According to your previous statement, you’re Laura Johnson, plain and simple.”

  Laura hadn’t anticipated this at all. She swallowed and said, “I’m terribly sorry to deceive you. It’s only that I was quite frightened back there and didn’t want to give my true self away.”

  Her “true self,” in that moment, being Laura Gateway, rather than Laura Pearce. She tried on another smile, anything to realign her with this mystery man.

  “I see,” he offered. “Quite an interesting way to start out at Treadway, isn’t it? With such a hefty lie.”

  “I’m terribly sorry, sir. Yet I should point out, I still don’t know your name,” Laura said.

  Again, the man scoffed and gave her a cocky smile, one that made her feel she’d been punched in the gut. She swallowed and felt that she might fall off her horse. She wanted nothing to do with this man’s aloofness and was growing to detest the way in which he continually scoffed at whatever she said. Perhaps she appeared like a fool, but she had no other option at this point, and truly yearned to arrive at her destination. Defensiveness rose within her like a wave.

  “Don’t worry, Laura Gateway,” the stranger said. “I’m not your employer. You haven’t made yourself out to be a fool in front of the man who’s meant to pay your way.”

  “I know that …” Laura began.

  “But I should say, Miss Gateway, that your employer would have sent a carriage to the inn to bring you back home. In fact, we could have shared a carriage.”

  His tone was commanding and matter of fact. Laura’s stomach churned. She felt her confusion spinning towards anger, yet tried to push it down. She needed the job, and she didn’t wish to present a strange and volatile face to this man, who was clearly somehow entrenched in life at Treadway.

  “Very well,” she said. “And yet, here we are together on the road. Won’t you help me the rest of the way?”

  “Laura Gateway will allow me to ride along with her?” he asked. “What a miraculous thing.”

  “I suppose it’s my only real option,” Laura returned.

  The stranger rode his horse to the left fork. Laura dug her heels into her horse’s back and followed along after him. Her heart pattered wildly as they ran along, winding the rest of the way through the trees and up an enormous hill. At the top was a large, giant grey monstrosity of a mansion. A sign out front read, “Treadway House,” written in Gothic lettering. The sky had grown increasingly thick with clouds, and a patter of another, more fervent rain had begun.

  With every final step that Laura’s horse took, she grew increasingly fearful, wild with anticipation. The moment she leapt off her horse, her plan would begin. She’d never felt less prepared for anything in her life, and yet this was her life’s only purpose, the reason she’d drawn herself so far from home. Her family, and especially her father, relied on her. Their love pressed hard on her shoulders, and she struggled to breathe.

  Chapter 2

  Prissy. Anxious. Arrogant. These were the initial words that fell to Callum’s mind to describe the young woman on the road, even as he sprung off his own horse to assist her off of hers. Her hair flung out from beneath her hat, and her eyes bulged with panic—but her hand felt soft and dear in his, and he focused on this as he led her all the way to the enormous stone mansion.

  The rain seemed to have a mind of its own, and it hammered on their shoulders. Finally, he pulled open the front door and drew her into the foyer. She let a little whimper escape, as though whatever fear and panic she’d felt out on the road would stream from her lips now that she was indoors. The way she’d focused on him—as a person she couldn’t trust, despite his going out of his way to ensure she was safe from those wretched men—irritated him.

  “My goodness,” Laura Gateway whispered. She brought her hat from her head, which allowed Callum better sight of her rather delicate, beautiful face. She blinked around the large foyer, at the painting of his grandfather and the large dark red rug and the staircase which wound up to the higher floors. Had she really never been inside a similar mansion? Or was this all a part of her act?

  “Welcome to Treadway House,” he said. His voice sounded flat and unkind in his own ears.

  “It was quite a journey,” Laura said.

  She blinked her big eyes at him, and Callum hated that his heart skipped a beat. He resolved to keep his distance from her as much as possible, as her uppity ways were loathsome. It felt as though with everything she did, she yearned to belittle him.

  “I don’t suppose I can meet the family?” Laura offered then. She still clutched her hat. Already, the servants had lit the candles in the foyer, and the glowing light reflected across her eyes and cheeks. She looked like a very old, very beautiful painting.

  “I’m terribly sorry to say, but the family is away for the night,” Callum said. “I can show you to your quarters and give you a brief tour. Unfortunately, you’re not the only creature fatigued from your journey, so I cannot say it will be a memorable tour.”

  “Anything you can offer me,” Laura said. Callum couldn’t sense if her words were genuine, or if she dug into him, attempting to pick fun.

  “Very well,” Callum said. He swept his hand over his chestnut hair and stretched his long legs towards the staircase. He felt Laura padding up behind him, but didn’t bother to make any conversation. He grew deeper into the realization and knowledge that the governess had little at all to do with him. He resolved to wash his hands of her that night and pass her over to his father when they arrived back.

  When they reached the third floor, Callum turned and grabbed a candle and held it aloft, to cast light down the hall. Laura caught up to him, oddly breathless.

  “You really do walk about this place like you own it,” she offered.

  Ah. There it was again. That pompousness. He cast her a demonic expression and said, “It would behoove you to mind your manners here at Treadway.”

  Laura’s face clenched, and she gave him a ferocious look. “How dare you speak to me this way? I am a guest at Treadway, and I’ve travelled a great distance and …”

  Callum didn’t move, and he didn’t alter his expression. Slowly, Laura’s lips turned down, and her words faltered. It was clear she sensed she’d crossed some kind of line. After a long, strained pause, Callum said, “Would you like me to show you the rest of the way to your room? Or would you like me to deliver you back out in the cold, where anyone can find you on the road?”