Falling for the Heartbroken Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  “Her Grace woke. I’d made Spanish chocolate for her, and she asked me to fetch her riding habit. I’d prepared her bath for her, and I came down for some quick dinner while she soaked. It was just about eleven, My Lord. I asked Her Grace if I could check on her in twenty minutes or she should ring me if she needed anything. She gave her permission. Then I came down here, My Lord.”

  “What happened next, Abby?”

  “When I came to the doorway of the hall, I saw her sitting with her tea. She laughed when she saw me. I was sure she’d come to exact her revenge on me for having been hired in her place at the Scottish estate. My Lord, that was almost five years ago.”

  “Did you speak?”

  “No, almost as soon as I saw Charlotte, something struck my head. Everything went black. The next I knew, Mrs Crabtree was sponging my face with cool water.”

  “So you believe Charlotte came here to hurt you as revenge?”

  “It’s all I can think of My Lord.”

  “We all are acquainted with Charlotte Evans, Abby.”

  “My Lord?”

  “Her Grace, Duchess Atwater, has been abducted, Abby. We believe Charlotte to be behind the act.”

  “Oh My Lord. No!”

  “Lord Thomas, Lord Thomas.” Terence’s voice came to them. He sounded alarmed.

  “What is it, Terence?” Tom looked at Abby. “You are safe now, Abby. There will be soldiers here soon to guard the house. Rest. Mrs Crabtree will be in shortly.”

  “Yes, My Lord.”

  Tom turned towards the sound of Terence’s voice.

  “My Lord,” Abby called him back.

  “Yes, what do you need, Abby?”

  “Please find Her Grace.”

  “I intend to Abby. The Duke and I both intend to.”

  He went into the hall. “What is it, Terence?”

  “Come to the library, My Lord. His Grace has gone mad, I’m afraid.”

  Chapter 17

  Tom hurried up to the library, followed closely by Terence. Atwater was pacing as a caged animal would.

  “Robert, what is it?”

  “It appears to be a poorly written ransom letter. It is from Charlotte Evans. She accuses me of improprieties. She has a baby son of a year in age. She informs me I am the father of this unfortunate lad, and I must claim parentage. She realizes that I am married, so she cannot become my wife, but my son should be recognized as the heir to my fortune. And my title.”

  “She is an audacious lady to be sure.”

  “There is nothing ladylike about that woman. To be sure. She drives a harder and shrewder bargain than many men of my acquaintance.”

  “But what of Phoebe, Robert?”

  “Phoebe?” He tossed the letter onto the desk and smiled bitterly. “I should think it to be clear, Tom. Phoebe has been kidnapped, and unless I claim Charlotte’s child as my heir, Phoebe is to die.”

  “Robert, we must find her. Send a response to the letter. Write Charlotte that you are having the necessary documents prepared.”

  “Tom, are you out of your mind? Charlotte will kill her as soon as she gets what she wants. It’s a ruse, don’t you see? Another fantastic ruse that we have fallen for.”

  “No, Robert. Humour her. Tell her the documents are being prepared. It will buy us time to find Phoebe. Charlotte will keep Phoebe as long as it suits her. She will not harm her without the proper documents in hand.”

  “You have a point, Tom.”

  “Terence, tell Dan I need him, and get Jimmy ... I want him to take a note to Charlotte. She is staying at The Charing Cross Inn in Covent Garden.”

  Robert went to the mantle and extracted a spill from the box that was kept there. He lit the spill off the fire and melted the wax to seal the packet. Then he pressed the seal with the bottom of a candlestick.

  “Your Grace.” Jimmy stumbled into the room and attempted a graceful bow. “Terence said you wanted to see me, Your Grace?”

  “Yes. I have an important mission for you, Jimmy. Will you take this letter? It is to be placed in the hand of Miss Charlotte Evans. No one else. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “Good. Run along then. You may ride Roy.”

  “Yes, Your Grace. Thank you, Your Grace.” The boy bowed once more and exited the room.

  “Dan, get the plain coach ready, will you? I’d like it to be ready to go in a moment’s notice.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “Tom, go back to Wimpole Street and check on Mary. Let her know what’s happening. Bring her back here ... I don’t want to take a chance that Charlotte might try to harm her.”

  “Mary is on her way, Robert. We’d agreed that she would meet me here at dinnertime. There’s something we wanted to share with you and Phoebe. It can wait, for the time being …”

  “Nothing is wrong is it?”

  “Tom …? Hello?”

  Mary’s voice came to them from downstairs. “Tom? Your Grace.” She sunk into a curtsy in the doorway of the library. “What is going on around here? There are two soldiers guarding the area. They grilled me as to who I am ... most odd. Where is Phoebe?” She settled herself on the sofa and looked at Tom, Atwater, and Terence with a wide-eyed look of anticipation. “Well …”

  “Darling, there’s no easy way to tell you this.”

  “Tell me what, Tom? Your Grace? Terence, will you tell Her Grace I’ve come to call?”

  “Mary, Phoebe has been abducted.”

  For a moment, Mary looked very serious, then the bell tinkle of her laughter filled the library. “Oh how fun. We’re going to play a mystery game? Delightful!”

  Tom crossed the room to the sofa. He knelt next to it. “Mary, my love. This is not a game.”

  “What? Not a game? Oh, Tom. Don’t be so silly, I happen to know that Phoebe loves this kind of diversion.” She looked from one to the other of the three men. “It’s true? Someone has kidnapped Phoebe? Who? Why? Tom?” Her hand went to her heart, her brow wrinkled in a frown. “What happened?”

  *******

  She heard the keys. Someone was coming. The door opened, and a plate of bread and a bit of cheese was set on the floor inside. Before Phoebe had a chance to sit up, the rat was at the plate enjoying the meagre and stale meal. She glanced up at the shuttered window. Light still illuminated the crack at the bottom of the boards. She’d slept, but had no idea how long. Her wrists were raw and sore due to the rough hemp that had been used to bind them. And it was very cold in the room, or whatever this place was.

  She could hear sounds from above. Footsteps and voices. She scanned the dimness looking for something with which she might bang on the ceiling. She had to let someone know she was here, trapped in this filthy prison. Her head was still aching. She lay back down on the rotten blanket. Soon she was asleep again.

  *******

  The silence in the Regent Street house was filled with the sound of the front door knocker. Terence left Mary, Atwater, and Tom in the library and went downstairs to answer.

  “Yes?” Charlotte Evans stood at the door, and Terence frowned. “You certainly have even more nerve than anyone thought, Miss Evans. To come here? After what you’ve done?”

  “Terence, how good to see you again. It’s been so long. May I come in? I would very much like to see Lord Robert.”

  “Excuse me. Lord? Robert? What game are you playing at?”

  Charlotte stepped back. “I beg your pardon? Terence, don’t you remember me? And why is the house surrounded by soldiers?”

  “I remember you. We all do. It’s out of line that you should come here. And unannounced. You’ve taken Her Grace off somewhere. Where is she? Tell me or I shall have one of these soldiers haul you off to the colonel.”

  “Terence, I beg your forgiveness for whatever it is you think I’ve done. I can assure you I’ve had no part in any nefarious activity. What is this about? Why are you speaking to me in this manner? Where is Lord Robert? Remember your place, man.”

  S
he brushed past the butler and into the foyer. She spoke over her shoulder to Terence. “Where is he, Terence? In the library? I should have known.” She started up the steps.

  A sound at the door to the library caused Mary, Tom, and Atwater to look up at the same time.

  Mary gasped, Tom stood in front of her as if to shield her. Atwater just stared.

  “Hello, I’m sorry if I’m interrupting anything. Do you not have a word of welcome, dear cousin Robert?”

  The silence in the room was as thick as fog. Atwater seemed, once more, to have fallen into a trance.

  “Judith?”

  *******

  Charlotte and Olivia sat in the room of the cheap hotel in Covent Garden. Charlotte held her baby to her breast, cooing and caressing the soft hair of the little one.

  Olivia marvelled at the love and gentle care Charlotte gave to her baby. She had threatened to kill Olivia if she didn’t follow orders and help her to kidnap Phoebe.

  If threats weren’t bad enough, Olivia believed that the maid at Regent Street had been killed when Charlotte’s boyfriend hit her with the piece of firewood. It had been meant to scare her, but she’d fallen in a heap on the stone floor from the blow.

  Charlotte had been vile to the Duchess. There had been moments when it seemed to Olivia that the punishment for mistreating Her Grace might be far worse than dying by Charlotte’s hand.

  Charlotte hadn’t seen Phoebe since the morning when they’d smuggled her in to the hotel. Olivia had been sent to distract the doorman while Charlotte and Bruce took Phoebe down to the little room they’d discovered in the cellar. The room had been for storage, but Charlotte had delighted in the fact that it would also make a wonderful prison for her captive.

  Olivia had been forced to take Phoebe the stale bread and cheese for her dinner. The Duchess had been asleep on the floor. Olivia had felt the cold and damp of the room wrap around her arm as she placed the plate on the floor inside the door.

  “And what might you be looking at?” Charlotte rubbed her son’s back until he was asleep, and then set him in his cradle.

  Olivia looked down quickly. “That’s more like it, pet. Mind you watch yourself, and don’t go getting any high and mighty airs about you. You’re a kidnapper now, soon to be a murderess if I don’t get my way.”

  A sound in the hall announced the man from the desk. “Letter for Miss Evans.” Charlotte gestured with her head to the door. Olivia stood and went to answer. The man handed her the letter and was gone back to his post in a heartbeat.”

  Olivia turned the letter over in her hand.

  “Give me that.” Charlotte snatched it away.

  “No seal, hmm. His Grace doesn’t want anyone to know he is consulting with someone staying in Covent Garden,” she snorted. “Let us see.” She began to read.

  Olivia watched as Charlotte nodded and began to smile the more she read. “Very good. Very good, indeed. Almost better than I expected.” She looked over the page at Olivia, “He’s having the papers of paternity and primogeniture written up at this very moment. It’s almost unfortunate to have to kill the Duchess, but you knew this was going to be a dangerous job, Olivia.” Charlotte threw her head back and laughed as if she’d just heard the finest joke.

  “By the way, you might as well take her some more of that bread ... no cheese this time. We’re not made of money. Not yet! She stays alive until I see those papers signed by the Duke.” Again she spewed forth an evil laugh.

  “Yes, Charlotte.” Olivia kept her head down. She collected the bread and put it in her apron. The plate was already in the cellar. Without a word, she left the room. Her head was spinning.

  She had to pass the desk to get outside. The door to the cellar was on the same side of the building as the passageway to the mews. At the desk she smiled her sweetest ... the man wasn’t there. His son was. The boy was just fifteen. “I’m wondering if I might get an extra blanket for my room and a tankard Mr …”

  “Mr Smothers, My Lady.” The boy puffed out his chest. “Yes, you may rent another blanket. Would you like me to put it on the bill?” He pulled an ale and handed the mug to her.

  “I … I was wondering if … well if I might not have to rent the blanket but only borrow it.” She batted her eyes at Mr Smothers.

  “Why, of course, Miss.”

  “Miss Evans.” Olivia would begin now to make her own escape from Charlotte. But first she would see to Phoebe. She smiled again at the boy, Smothers, and stepped back from the desk. As soon as his back was turned, she was out the door and around the side of the building.

  She looked both ways and scanned the mews. No one was about. She pushed with her shoulder, and the door gave in to her weight. The bit of candle she had did little to light her way, but once she was at the back of the cellar, she retrieved the key to Phoebe’s prison.

  The door squeaked open. Phoebe was right inside the ugly portal, her back pressed against the cold wet wall, her arms wrapped around her knees. Olivia crouched down.

  Phoebe’s bright blue eyes emerged from the darkness of the room. Under the boarded up window, the rat and a few of his cronies fought over the last bit of bread from her dinner.

  Olivia spoke to Phoebe in a whisper, “Your Grace. Here is a blanket. I will bring clothing to you, and once it’s dark, you must come with me.”

  “I will go nowhere with you until you tell me why I am being kept here in this … this dungeon.”

  “Please Your Grace. You must listen to me. Charlotte means to have me kill you. If I don’t, she will kill me and then come for you. I mean to get you out of here. I can tell you later what this has been about. But, please, be waiting for me when eight o’clock chimes from the church bells.”

  “I will do nothing of the sort. Get Charlotte now. I should like to speak with her.”

  “Your Grace. Please. You must listen to me, or we are both as good as dead. I speak the truth, Your Grace. You must believe me. You must trust me.”

  “Very well. What should I do?”

  “Nothing until the church bells. Charlotte will not come down here; she is terrified of rats. I daresay they’re the only thing she’s afraid of. Now, I must go. Be ready, Your Grace.” She shut the door but didn’t lock it this time.

  Phoebe could get out now. She could escape. But Olivia had said that Charlotte would kill them both. She wouldn’t leave the girl regardless of the fact that Olivia was implicated. She wrapped the blanket around herself and sipped some of the ale the girl had given her. She figured she should take it all or risk the rats getting to it as they had her bread.

  Chapter 18

  “She’s an evil, vile person.” The real Lady Judith sat on the sofa, next to Mary, drinking some sherry to calm her nerves.

  “But you are alive. That’s what’s important. Charlotte, after she’d been discovered, said you’d died of illness in Seville.” Atwater stood by the fire, gazing into it and trying to get his emotional bearings.

  “It’s true I was ill when we were there. It’s when Charlotte impersonated me for the first time. The next morning, after the ball she’d attended in my place, she took me to a house. I was still very ill, mind you. It turned out it was the house of the landlord of the hotel we’d stayed in. She didn’t want to pay for the rooms, once she’d devised her plan. She left me in lieu of room payment with the landlord and his wife.”