Taken by the Duke

by Jess Michaels

  He ignored her with a curt, “Good day,” and left the room.

  Hornby looked at Ava in question. “Is it not a good time, my lady?”

  “No, I need to see Portia,” she said, pushing her uneaten breakfast aside. “More than ever. Send her in.”

  The butler stepped from the room and in a moment Portia burst through the door. Ava got to her feet and the women embraced wordlessly. Portia clung to her, shaking as Ava smoothed her back gently in comfort.

  Finally, Portia pulled away and there were tears streaming down her face. “I feared you were dead,” she whispered.

  Ava swiped tears from Portia’s cheeks. “I’m sorry. So very sorry that you were made to worry. I was never in danger, though. And I wrote to my brother as soon as I could, but of course he had already received word from someone else by that time and was rushing to ‘save’ me.”

  “What happened?” her friend asked as she sank into a chair at the table and poured herself tea with shaking hands.

  Ava rubbed a hand over her face. “Oh, that is a very long story, and I shall tell it. But first, will you tell me exactly what happened here during my absence? My brother will hardly speak three words to me.”

  Portia frowned. “I saw him storm away from the house. He did not even acknowledge me.”

  “He is enraged.”

  “That you were kidnapped?” Portia said, her tone filled with her own outrage.

  “No. I…” Ava sighed. “It is far more complicated than that. But tell me what I need to know and then I shall confess all, I swear it, for I need your counsel and support more than I ever have.”

  “I was late to the party the night you were taken.” Portia sighed. “My mother had one of her episodes, so by the time I got there, you had already been taken and the ball was abuzz about it.”

  Ava wrinkled her brow. “How could the attendees know so soon?”

  Her friend shrugged. “Someone saw Rothcastle stuffing you into his carriage and driving away. The gossip began almost immediately, even as some of the men went to report the abduction to your brother.”

  “I can only imagine the glee with which the information was seized upon,” Ava murmured.

  “Oh yes. A scandal beyond all others, even for your two families. And it only grew as the days passed and there was no sign of you anywhere in London. Every night you were away made the gossip all the louder.”

  “How did my brother respond?” she asked, thinking of Liam’s coldness to her since his discovery.

  “Liam went almost mad,” Portia whispered. “He was racing everywhere, trying to find any hint of where you could be. I do not think he slept more than a few hours while you were missing.”

  Ava squeezed her eyes shut. Whatever problems they were having now, she did not wish any pain on her brother, and she hated to hear about his fear, his heartache.

  “He involved every agency, every investigator he could hire in the search,” Portia continued. “When he interrogated me, I thought he might break something as he crashed around the parlor, screaming.”

  Ava swallowed hard. “I’m sure his behavior, as relieving as it is to hear that he cared, did not help ease the scandal.”

  “He fed the talk, to be certain,” Portia admitted with a shake of her head. “His out-of-control behavior is all the gossip. And now that you have finally been returned home, I am afraid to say…”

  She stopped, dropping her chin.

  Ava bit her lip and said, “Tell me. Tell me all of it. I must know.”

  Portia lifted her eyes. “They are whispering of depravity, ruination, sinfulness, that your brother is going to kill Christian. That you were nearly murdered by the duke. That you seduced him. That he seduced you. Their words, their ‘truth’ has run rampant.”

  Ava let that sink it. Truly sink in. She had expected nothing less, but she was surprised by how queasy she felt now. How humiliation burned at the edges of everything she was.

  “And so I am ruined. Utterly,” she finally whispered. “At least I shall not have to endure any more awful parties.”

  “What will you do?” Portia whispered.

  She sighed. “I suppose I shall be exiled to the country where I shall write terrible erotic poetry to fill my time.”

  Portia’s lips pursed as she shook her head. “You are not taking this very seriously.”

  “Oh, I fully grasp the seriousness.” Ava covered her face. “If I respond with my true feelings, I shall break down and perhaps never recover.”

  Portia reached out to cover her hand. “Then tell me. Tell me everything that happened.”

  Ava swallowed. She had not told anyone everything yet, and Portia was her best friend and dearest confidante. So she drew a long breath and began at the beginning.

  It was an hour later when Portia collapsed back against her chair and stared at Ava with an all-new expression. But Ava was happy it wasn’t one of disgust or judgment like her brother’s had been.

  “You truly love this man, despite everything that would tell you not to do so,” Portia finally said.

  Ava couldn’t help but laugh despite the graveness of the situation. “After all I’ve told you about ruination and seduction, you clasp onto the fact that I love Christian.”

  Portia shrugged. “To me, that seems the most important part of your story. The rest is salacious, true, and probably far worse than the imaginings of the ton, but I’m worried about your heart more than the sanctity of your body. Though I do have a question.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Was it…good?” her friend asked with a blush. “What—what you did together?”

  Ava shut her eyes and tried not to relive every one of Christian’s kisses, every one of the times he had made her quake with pleasure. She failed.

  “It was indescribably wonderful,” she whispered. “Better than anything I ever could have hoped for or dreamed about when I dared to think of the intimacies between a man and a woman.”

  “That is comforting, at least.” Portia sighed.

  “Very cold comfort, I would say,” Ava disagreed and paced away from her friend. Once again she stood at the window, just peeking out into the world that was so different than it had been a short time ago.

  “Because you cannot be together,” Portia said quietly.

  She turned back. “Yes. He did not try to fight my brother’s removal of me even a little. It was like he was patting me on the head and sending me away. If he cared about me, I would think he would want me to stay. But he showed no regret at all.”

  “But he doesn’t seem the kind of man who shows his emotions easily,” Portia offered.

  “That is certainly true,” Ava said with a grimace. “He hides them as often as he can. But it doesn’t matter. He brought me there for revenge and perhaps what ultimately sparked between us went deeper. I know it did. But it’s over now.”

  “Do you think the war is over too?” Portia asked.

  Ava considered the question. “From Christian’s side, I believe it might be. He had opportunities to stoke the fires of my brother’s anger, to goad him when he arrived at the estate, but he didn’t take them. His heart didn’t seem to be in that response anymore.”

  “Then you have won!” Portia said with a half smile. “You have done what generations of others could not.”

  Ava closed the curtain and leaned back against the wall beside the window.

  “No, I don’t think I’ve won. I have lost everything. My love and I will never be together. My brother will never look at me the same again. I am utterly ruined in Society and will likely be shunned and cast out.” She lifted her hands to cover her chest, where she ached most keenly. “The war may be over, but I’ve lost it.”

  Then she did what she had not allowed herself. She sank to her knees and wept until she had no more breath and no more tears.

  By the time her brother returned home that evening, Ava had somehow gathered her composure thanks in part to Portia’s comforting for most of the aftern
oon. She smoothed her gown as her brother entered the dining room.

  “Good evening,” she said, flinching as he looked at her then immediately snapped his gaze away. “I’m pleased to see you. I was very worried when you left this morning and were gone so long.”

  His lips thinned. “You have little road to stand on with that, sister.”

  She moved toward him, holding out a hand, but he stepped away and poured himself a drink before he took his place at the head of the table and motioned for the servants to begin supper.

  Ava sighed and took her place at his side. “Portia says you were wild with emotion while you were looking for me,” she said, trying a different tactic.

  He hesitated, soup spoon halfway to his mouth, and glanced at her. Something in his stare softened, something told her that while he might be angry, disgusted even, he did still love her. Which was better than nothing.

  “I pictured you raped, murdered, tortured by that man,” he managed to grind out before he set his spoon down, food uneaten. “Little did I know you were happily in his bed, warm and comfortable.”

  “I knew you were suffering,” she said, trying to remain calm and rational. “I was truly hurt by that fact, Liam. You must know there was no pleasure in that for me. You know me.”

  His brow wrinkled and his voice was distant as he murmured, “I’m not certain I know you at all.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “That is the worst thing you could say to me, Liam. That you feel that way cuts me to the bone. I can only hope one day you will find a way to forgive me.”

  He was silent as he set his hand on the table. It was clenched in a fist, though she wasn’t certain how much of that was emotion and how much was that it was more comfortable for him thanks to his injury.

  “Ava, when I was out today, I was calling on a gentleman.”

  Ava tilted her head at this change of subject. Did it bode well or poorly that he was finished with the discussion of the state of their relationship?

  She nodded and lifted a spoonful of soup to her lips. Before she ate it, she said, “A gentleman?”

  He nodded. “Do you remember Mr. Clement Warren?”

  Ava searched her memory. “He was a friend of Father’s, wasn’t he?”

  “I suppose you might call him a friend,” Liam said with a shake of his head. “He is more of an associate. He and father invested in a project together. It didn’t go particularly well, and Warren had some problems because of it. He owed our family money.”

  “I see,” Ava said, but she didn’t. Why in the world were they speaking of this? Liam had never talked to her about family finances before. “Did they have a repayment schedule? Was he behind?”

  “Something like that,” Liam said. He leaned toward her. “His son recently died.”

  “Oh.” She again tried to think of the man Liam was speaking about. “He was older, wasn’t he? Close to my age?”

  He nodded. “Yes. And the man’s only heir. He now needs another. And he needs to have his debt forgiven. We have come to an arrangement.”

  Ava stared at him. He was looking at her so evenly, his voice was so calm. Her heart began to pound.

  “Liam—”

  “He would be willing to overlook your scandal and marry you. After a month where we can be sure you are not—” His mouth twisted in disgust. “—breeding.”

  Ava’s heart pounded at the idea of carrying Christian’s child, but she ignored that reaction for the moment and instead pushed her chair back to leap to her feet. She stared at her brother in shock. “Marry me? Liam!”

  He leaned back, arms folded and stare icy cold. “You would regain some small level of your respectability.”

  “By being sold like some broodmare to pay off a debt?” she said, outrage making her voice loud in the quiet room. “Liam, how could you without even speaking to me? How could you?”

  He took a long sip of his whiskey and flinched as the liquid went down his throat. “How could I? An interesting question considering the position you have put me and yourself in. The world has already guessed your activities with Rothcastle, Ava. And you will be shunned by everyone. Marry this man, and you may never reach a level of respectability you once had, but you will have his protection.”

  “I thought I had yours,” she whispered.

  He recoiled before he regained his composure and shrugged. “This is all I can do for you.”

  “Send me to the country,” she suggested. “If you cannot stand the sight of me and you think I shall be ostracized, then send me to one of the smaller estates.”

  “So that you can call on Rothcastle to come and fuck you?” he asked, his tone rising suddenly and violently.

  She leaned in, ignoring his anger because her own was so strong. “You would prefer I fuck an old man who could be our father? One I do not know or care about? One who is using me to pay a debt and produce a child?”

  “Go to the country, and you will never be able to come back.” His voice was steely. “You will keep no company. You will have no friends. You will have one or two servants at best. I will send you enough funds to live on, but nothing more. I will never accept you in my home again. I will never visit you. Do you understand me?”

  She staggered back, hitting the chair she had vacated. She sank into it, her stomach turning. “You hate me that much?” she whispered.

  He shook his head. “I hate him.”

  “And you would hurt me because now I am part of him.” He said nothing. She nodded, more for herself than for him. “I see.”

  “The bargain with Mr. Warren has already been struck,” her brother said after an awkward silence where all Ava could hear was the shallow sound of her own labored breathing. “Meet with him before you decide to throw away everything, Ava. Perhaps you will find I have not created such a bad match for you after all.”

  She stared at him, speechless in the face of this new side to her brother. She had always believed he loved her, even when he locked himself away in pain and grief after Matilda’s death. Now she wasn’t certain.

  “You offer me little choice,” she managed to whisper as she got to her feet a second time, though much less dramatically. “I shall do what you say. But with no pleasure. Excuse me.”

  She staggered from the room and to her chamber without seeing one bit of the world around her. Once she had shut her door, she could hardly hold back a scream of frustration and agony.

  Her brother was about to “save” her. And all she longed for was for Christian to ride to her side like the hero of a story.

  Only this story was not going to have that happy ending. No matter what she chose to do next.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Christian rolled over in his bed to face his door and winced at the action. For the first time in weeks, everything hurt. His body, yes. He had not been stretching or having his leg massaged since Ava’s departure and he hated to admit it, but her advice had been correct on those things. They helped.

  She helped.

  Beyond his physical pain, though, there was a deeper ache. In his heart, in his spirit, in his soul. Waking up alone for almost a week was enough to drive him mad and spend every waking hour thinking of the woman who had so briefly shared his bed and his life.

  “Damn you, Ava,” he muttered.

  He sat up and scrubbed a hand over his scruffy, unshaven face. He could make this not matter. He knew he had that kind of self-control. He would forget her.

  Except that was a lie.

  There was a rap on his door, and he sighed in relief that he would no longer be tangled alone with his thoughts.

  “Come in,” he said as he arranged the coverlet over him.

  To his surprise, it wasn’t his valet who entered the room to ready him, but Sanders. The butler’s face was pale and drawn as he nodded out a greeting.

  “I’m so sorry to bother you abed, Your Grace, but there is a matter of great importance I feel I must discuss with you immediately.”

  Throwing the co
vers aside, Christian put on his robe and grabbed his cane before he came around to properly speak with the man who ran his daily household.

  “What is it?”

  “Laura has quit.” Sanders shifted with what seemed like upset of some kind. “She disappeared in the night with only a very brief note of farewell for Molly, one of the maids who shared her room.”

  Christian frowned. While this was news he wanted to hear, he would not rate it of great importance. Certainly not great enough that he would expect Sanders to come into his room before he had been dressed and readied.

  “I am not surprised,” he said with a shrug. “With Matilda gone, Laura had little to do around the house without taking a lowering of rank. And I believe she liked Ava a great deal. Laura couldn’t have approved of my treatment of her.”

  “That isn’t why Laura departed, my lord.” Sanders swallowed hard and again Christian stared. He had never seen his butler so upset and flustered. “Once she left, one of the other girls was cleaning out her chamber, and they found something hidden beneath a loose board under her bed.”

  He held out a small, leather-bound book with a grimace of distaste.

  “What is this?” Christian asked, turning the item over.

  “Her journal,” the butler said with a sniff.

  “I have no interest in reading her private thoughts,” Christian said and held the book back toward his servant. “I’m surprised you would believe otherwise. If we do not have an address to forward it, then burn it.”

  Sanders shook his head and did not take the book back despite Christian’s shaking it in his direction.

  “My lord, normally I would be entirely on your side in this matter, and I would sternly admonish the girl who had read the book in the first place and violated Laura’s privacy. But in this case, her deplorable actions are commendable for it has revealed some very troubling facts.”

  Christian lifted both eyebrows. “What do you mean, ‘troubling facts’?”

  “Laura is not…stable, my lord. And I believe she might have left your home in order to exact a terrible revenge.”

  “On whom?” Christian asked, opening the book now that his interest had been captured by Sanders’ strange statement.