Duke Herheart Final

by Olivia Ritch

  “Gone? What the hell do you mean gone, Thorpe?” He bellowed at the servant whose worried expression told Michael exactly what he meant. Gone.

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  Chapter Thirteen

  “Departed, My Lord. She took two dresses, left the others and she must have only her riding boots. She has some new smalls but everything that was in the room when she moved in is in its rightful place. Her personal effects are gone.”

  “Bloody hell. Have you asked the staff? Has anyone seen her?”

  “Footmen are scouring the grounds now and Mrs. Staggs is questioning the maids.”

  “Thorpe, do you bloody well know what this means? Someone tried to kill her in my own house and shoot her on the bridle path, and she only lived because she was being watched over. Now she is out there alone!” He fairly roared and because Hallthorpe was so well trained, he took the master’s rage with all of the training that had.

  “I want two…”

  “Yes, My Lord.”

  “And two…”

  “Yes, My Lord.”

  “And the carriages.”

  “Yes, My Lord.”

  “Demmit, Hallthorpe, are you going to let me even finish a sentence?”

  “My Lord, two footmen have been armed and dispatched toward the London Road, two to the Wilton Road and the carriages—both of them—are being readied.”

  “I’ll need…”

  “Thunder is being saddled.”

  “Okay then, tell me what I have not thought of.”

  Hallthorpe finally had the good sense to blush.

  “Send for Worley and Weatherford and a note over as far as the Grange. Ask for Hamilton to send some of his footmen, and if they can, bring a hound or two. I don’t want Cassandra left unprotected.”

  “As you say, Sir.” For Hallthorpe knew Cassandra’s safety was important but he had assured it long ago. His own son James was her personal footman.

  Michael clattered out of the forecourt determined to find Kathryn before the villain who had ordered her poisoned and who had tried to put a hole through her, found her. An unholy fear had gripped him from the 118

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  moment Thorpe had said she was gone. She didn’t know she was in danger and while he didn’t know why, he did know that her being alone on the roads was tantamount to suicide. He had immediately regretted not telling her of the attempt on her life; it had been arrogance on his part. Knowing the danger might have made her consider…

  His fear had driven him to Wilton before he even saw where he was.

  Catching sight of one of his grooms, he recognized the negative head shake. His other groom was coming from the Inn and he too shook his head. By mutual consent, they converged just out of earshot of the guests coming and going at the front door. “Marsh, head back to the house to inform Hallthorpe and get word to the others that she is more likely on the London Road. Toole, you’re with me since you’re on Lightening. To the London Road.”

  With that terse command, they were thundering after Kathryn in a race that reminded him he had done the very same thing just eleven days ago. He was no less frightened and uncertain of her safety today. Indeed, he was probably scared out of his mind if indeed he let himself dwell on it. Someone was trying to kill her. They had come very close already.

  This time she was alone and totally unprotected.

  * * * *

  Julian drew on senses honed by years overseas behind enemy lines to scan for his prey. However, the woman was so distinctive he didn’t need his training to spot her. Bronzed earth and sun Michael had said and he had not been far off. She was an Earthy treasure. Sitting on the bench just outside the Laurel, Kathryn Ragland was as Michael had described but right now, she also fairly reeked of desperately-alone-gentlewoman. He watched her, hugging her traveling sack, because that’s all it looked like, and rocking ever so slightly back and forth. She was obviously nervous, and he wondered if it was of being spotted by Michael and his posse or did she know the danger she was in from the outsider? As Julian watched her, he also saw easily why Michael was so smitten with her.

  Indeed, if he had seen her first…

  Her odd coloring belied a distinctively English face, high cheekbones, pug nose, cleft chin, pursed lips even with the faint bronze skin color, wildly striped reddish-brownish-blond hair and freckles. He was sure of the tiny dot’s existence. Her hair flowed like a dazzling mane over her shoulders and he recognized the Viking warrior goddess Michael had unwillingly described. Staid, perfect, upstanding Michael had entangled himself with a minx of such extraordinary features. She was stunning in her look, utterly distracting, not a tonnish beauty of pale blond ringlets but of pure, healthy, sensual woman.

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  Julian steeled himself with the thought that maybe he would meet a sister…

  He had to get her off this street and he couldn’t just walk up to her.

  She didn’t know who he was and he wouldn’t make a scene in front of the Laurel’s customers. Pulling his pad from his waistcoat, he penned a short note and spotted an urchin lurking nearby. “See that exquisite titian haired lady, give this to her.” The child eyed the shiny coin sitting on top of the note, grabbed them both and raced for Kathryn. As he approached, she welcomed him openly. When she favored a dazzling smile on the grimy child, Julian all but lost his seat. He was extraordinarily jealous.

  Her face lit up like the light of a shooting star—vibrant, colorful, and almost elusive. That look was pure Valkyrie. Her brow furrowed as she dropped her hands back into her lap and raised her eyes to scan the riders milling in the street.

  When Kathryn’s gaze came to rest on the Frenchman, a shudder of frustration gripped her chest and her stomach fluttered. What was he doing here? Too late to run, she took measured steps toward him. “Miss Ragland, I presume? I am Julian Thornton.” Yes, there was definitely a faint French accent. She knew she had been right about him.

  “You’re a friend of Michael Stafford’s?”

  “Yes, Miss Ragland, I am one of what I believe is a small army of men dispatched to find you and return you to Michael’s safe keeping.”

  “Safe keeping isn’t something I am accustomed to Mr. Thornton. I should ask, are you Mr. or are you My Lord? I understand it makes quite a difference.”

  “My Lord for my sins.”

  “That many sins?”

  “That many, yes. But …”

  “You don’t need to lecture me. I know what you are supposed to say about him,” Kathryn retorted. She was not thrilled to have been discovered.

  “You do?”

  She adopted a deep drawl. “My honorable friend…”

  Julian cut in. “You obviously do not know me, my dear. I have no intention of pleading his case.”

  “You’re not here to convince me to return with you?”

  “No, I am here to take you back.”

  “I don’t like to be taken.”

  “Miss Ragland, nevertheless, his company surely is an improvement over this.” He swept his hand across the bustling street toward the bench that had now been occupied by other less savory characters waiting for 120

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  the afternoon coach.

  “Sir, I can assure you that it’s not Michael’s company or the lack of it that has me on this road. I have to get home and it’s time. He would not have worked with me to move on so I did us both a favor.”

  “A favor? Is that what you call this?” His French accent coupled with the sarcasm grated on her last nerve and she forced herself not to tell him what she thought about Julian and his arrogant, over-bearing, self-indulgent, unloving friend.

  “Yes, a favor. He was exceedingly generous to feed and house me for the last almost two weeks I am embarrassed to admit, but I couldn’t stay forever. It was time for me to go so I made a clean break, no messy goodbyes, no nee
d for him to plead with me to stay, not that he would have anyway. Now he can get back to doing whatever he was doing and I’ll work to find my way home.”

  So Michael had botched the proposal? Jules dismounted because arguing with her from this height and in such a public fashion was drawing querying glances and some outright gaping mouths. Assured that she would walk with him if he kept a pace toward their ultimate destination, Jules fell in beside her. “And what do you fancy he was doing before you came into his life?”

  “You’ve got me there. I have absolutely no idea. Not, I’ll predict, looking for a bride.”

  “I believe he was not looking but he did indeed find.”

  “Is this where I say ‘touche’?”

  “Very good. We’ll have you English yet.”

  “Now my turn. You were at the house several nights ago? You arrived escorted by a guard, worked in his study and left. What was that about?”

  So Michael hadn’t told her. Seems his sins were adding up. Jules had not really expected it of him but out here now, it seemed she needed to know she was in danger. “He asked me over to discuss a matter of your safety.” They had gotten off on an uncertain footing and she was well inclined not to trust him, even more very unlikely to willingly go with him. Julian had made the decision, later consequences be dammed.

  “My safety?” He could see that was definitely not the answer she expected.

  “Yes, there had been an unknown maid in your room and he inquired of me to assist him in locating her.” But since she hadn’t mentioned the matter of the gunshot, he didn’t have to lie about it.

  “He didn’t tell me.”

  Julian could see her simmering rage and he resented being the one to 121

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  have to take the brunt of what he was sure would be a lot of female outrage. Damn Michael for keeping this from her.

  “No, he didn’t want to worry you.” At least she was still walking the right way…away from the avid listening ears.

  “Figures. Fits in with the other things he said last night. He is a rather arrogant man and knows nothing about me. If I am in danger, he should have told me.”

  Julian was surprised at her clipped but civil tones toward him. He wasn’t after all going to be the one to endure her tirade. She regarded him coldly but not so far to show disdain and she seemed to be making an effort to resolve that he had been honest with her and somehow was deserving of respect. He relished the thought of this woman saving and storing her ire for the one who would deserve it but he also felt a little guilty that he had not been completely honest with her. “I hear you saying your plan is to go in search of your family. I think if you had but asked, Michael would have helped you. He’s good at finding people.”

  “I thought it was you who was good at finding people. You found me first.”

  Not as first as I’d have liked to be. “A sharp wit. I like that. I can see why he chose you.”

  “Chose me. It shouldn’t surprise me that you say it like that. No one chooses me. No one says… ‘You will be mine.’ I choose who I want to be with. It’s absurd all of this arranged marriage nonsense. People marry for love or not at all in my world. Period.”

  “Do you believe in love, Miss Ragland?”

  “Absolutely.

  “I see in your eyes…”

  “What do you think you see in my eyes?” she demanded, rounding on him so fast that she kicked dust onto his polished Hessian boots.

  “I think you love him.”

  He saw a flare in her eyes, either from anger or because his comment hit a nerve of truth. “And did you make this careful observation from anything other than my one comment about love?”

  “No. You are running are you not? You either felt you needed to see him declare himself by chasing after you or something more. You have the idea your feelings are unrequited and you had to get away.”

  “You know, My Lord, the first moment I saw you, I thought you were a spy. I’m right I know it. Do you get paid a lot of money to dissect the emotions of your victims?”

  “What am I supposed to say to that Miss Ragland?”

  A look of contriteness came into her eyes. “I’m sorry. That was way 122

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  out of line. You’ve obviously troubled yourself to come from your home to help hunt for me and I’ve been a horrible bitch. If you’d just leave me to keep going on my own, I’d appreciate it.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes tired. “ You asked if I ever asked for his help. I have pleaded with him to help me get home, but he chooses not to believe my situation. Why would he want to marry me if he thinks I’m lying? ”

  “I sound redundant but again, what am I supposed to say to that?”

  “Nothing. But you do seem to be a good listener with common sense.”

  “Ah, my lady, what you don’t know about me is that I have a small but terribly fierce noble streak that comes out just at the wrong times.

  Such as now when I cannot possibly say something unkind about a man who saved my life twice, even though his actions do seem a bit daft.”

  She looked at him with those thoughtful eyes, eyes that had suddenly turned gold in the shadows of the tree they were walking under and he felt a sizeable pang of jealousy. Again. She was most extraordinarily charming, intelligent, thoughtful and exotic. Yes, call it jealousy or envy; he felt them both.

  “Now that we’ve walked some way and my boots have gained enough dust from the road, can we mount and I will take you to the closest estate which is that of Matthew Drake, Baron of Worley’s estate?

  He and his staff are also part of this grand hunt for the runaway American.”

  He said it with a slight laugh and her shoulders visibly eased. He saw the very moment she gave up the fight because he had seen that same look one hundred times in the last ten years. She was defeated. She would come with him and go back to Michael. When he realized it, he also saw the hint of the love that he knew he had seen earlier. She was going because somewhere in her heart she knew she belonged even though her head had not acknowledged it yet. He was very glad at that moment for his skill in recognizing people’s thoughts in the expressions on their faces and the movements of their limbs.

  Julian mounted and reached for Kathryn’s hand to pull her up in front of him, not sure his clamoring senses would be able to manage the ride with her so close. He had never coveted another man’s woman before—well never the woman of a friend—but this was really testing his control.

  “Can I ride behind you? I can’t sit on a horse sidesaddle and I know I am not riding in your lap.”

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  to ride behind him. “Put your foot on my boot and swing up.” Of course, Michael’s minx would be wearing breeches under that dress. Of course!

  “So I am not going to put my arms around you since that would feel weird. Can we make it with just me gripping with my legs?”

  Ahh, she didn’t really just say that did she? This was torture. Maybe he could call himself even for that one time Michael had so smoothly dealt with the assassin in the tavern outside of Dover.

  “I’ll keep to a canter and you should be fine.” Not sure about me, however, with the way you smell. Vanilla?

  She was the first to speak. “The first time I met Michael he chased me down this road. I should have known better than to think he would let me go.” She sighed. “I figure he told you he asked me to marry him?

  Isn’t that why this ‘army’ is after me?”

  “He didn’t tell us he asked you. Am I to assume you refused?” He kept his tone mild, knowing he was going to be on very shaky ground having this discussion with her with his control already stretched to its limits.

  “Okay, so he didn’t tell you. I guess I should have expected that. He actually made me a bizarre business proposal about running his es
tates, living in the social whirl and oh yes, birthing a son or two. I felt like property or a well-placed mistress. It was the most humiliated I think I’ve ever been by a man. ”

  He felt the heat rush through her body and could see her arms flush.

  Julian could only imagine how embarrassed she must have been at that admission. “I have to admit the way you put it, it does sound rather business like but well, we English are rather staid and Michael is one of the most proper you’ll find.” And it was a wonderfully good lesson to know that laying your title and riches without your heart in front of a woman of sensibilities such as hers was of no use. He would take that to heart for his own use in future if he ever found a woman he truly loved.

  “Lord Thornton, is that your name or can we skip to first names since well, I’ve already totally humiliated myself in front of you. I’m Kathryn.”

  “Kathryn, please call me Jules.”

  “Are you part French?”

  “Yes, what gave me away?” He laughed of course because really everything gave him away.

  “The night I noticed you I thought immediately you were part French and imagined you had been a spy.”

  “You imagined me a spy? You do have an imagination.” The thought of his years in France brought Julian up short. Martine. Could he 124

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  bring her here? No. It was one thing to set up a poor English girl as a mistress but quite another to import one from France in this day and age.

  There were boundaries even he would not be able to cross. It was definitely time to dispense with this conversation. “Kathryn, I know Michael seemed shall we say ‘reserved’ in his approach but I can assure you, he is not reserved right now. Indeed, the night I met with him to talk about your safety, he was deadly serious and this morning, I daresay from his missive, he was the same. I believe he has a fierce notion about protecting you.”