The Duke of Ravens: Regency Hearts Book 3

by Jennifer Monroe

  “If that is what you wish.”

  His voice carried such a sad note, she wondered, not for the first time, if she was being overly dramatic. But no, she had seen him pull that woman into his arms and kiss her. She had every reason to be angry with him! If it had been any other woman, she would not have taken it so badly.

  Or would she have? Could she say with complete honesty she would have reacted in any other way if the woman had not been the former mistress of her now deceased husband? In all honesty, she could not. Granted, her anger might have been less heated, but it would have been there nonetheless. What she wished to do at that moment was pummel the man with her fist!

  “I have upset you in some way,” he said in that caring tone that mocked her heart. “Please, tell me what I have done to displease you.”

  Caroline studied him for a moment. Should she reveal what she had seen? Could she stand the lies he would be made to tell to mask the truth? She should not have consumed the amount of brandy she had, for it had muddled her thinking.

  “Oh, it does not matter anymore,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I have made a fool of myself in how I have dealt with you. I am a Duchess; what business do I have giving chase after a man who is in my employ? It seems I am no better than my husband in that aspect.”

  He reached out for her once again, but the very last thing she wished was to feel his hand touching her. “You cannot compare yourself to your husband,” he said. “And you have done nothing wrong.”

  Tears rolled down her cheeks unchecked. “Do not mock me any longer,” she whispered. Why would she be crying? “You see me as some piece in a game, dangling my feelings in front of me.”

  “Caroline, I must admit I have no idea of what you speak. What is it that I have done to upset you so?”

  Again, she wondered if sharing her thoughts would be the wisest of ideas. He would only use it against her later, would he not? No, she was tired of this conversation.

  She wiped the tears from her face with a kerchief and then straightened her back. “Lord Mullens showed an interest in me,” she said, hoping to change the direction of the conversation. “Do you believe I should allow him to call on me?”

  “If that is what you wish.”

  Infuriating man! “You know what I wish,” she snapped. “Now, answer me.”

  He sighed and clasped his hands behind his back. How did a gardener learn to stand so regally? “I do not,” he replied.

  “And why is that?”

  “I do not believe his intentions are honorable, seeing the company he keeps.”

  “Liar!” she said. “Let me see your face.”

  He said nothing as he moved the hair back from his face, and what she saw confused her. What she had expected was to see pride etched in his features, yet what she found was pain.

  “I do not lie,” he said in that quiet, controlled voice. “I only wish to see you happy, and that man cannot be the man who will do so.”

  “If you are so concerned for my happiness,” she said through clenched teeth, “then why did you kiss Miss Mullens? Of all the women you could have chosen, you chose her? Do you realize how much your actions have hurt me?”

  It was quiet for a moment, the only sound the rustling of leaves in the trees. Then he spoke. “Sometimes what we see is not the complete story. Yes, I did as you say, but for reasons other than what you imply.”

  “‘Reasons other than what I imply’?” she asked incredulously. “There are only two reasons a man kisses a woman: he either loves her or lusts for her. So, which is it for you?”

  Philip said nothing for several moments, and Caroline worried he would leave. At that moment, she wished he would; it would make things that much easier. However, later, when she was thinking lucidly once again, she knew she would regret it.

  He let out a heavy sigh and turned toward her. “She was blackmailing me.”

  Caroline could not stop herself from gaping at the man. “Do you expect me to believe such a thing?”

  “I cannot convince you of the truth,” he replied. “But that is what it is.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “How?”

  He returned his gaze to the gardens. “It does not matter.”

  The audacity of the man! Had he no respect for her station? “It matters quite a bit,” she said. “Tell me the truth now, or you may leave and never return.”

  The expression his face assumed in reaction to her words pierced her heart. However, she had to know the truth. She had endured abuse and lies during the past five years; she would not spend the remainder of her years on this Earth subjected to further acts such as these.

  At first, she worried he would not respond, that he would call her bluff and leave her. However, he placed a hand on the parapet and said, “I was looking through the ledgers in Neil’s office, wondering about his transactions. She caught me and threatened to tell him if I did not kiss her. So, rather than being exposed for my prying, I granted her that which she requested. When she had what she wanted, she left.”

  What he said was dubious, to be sure. However, when it came to Miss Mary Mullens, Caroline would not put anything past the woman. Such actions were not beneath her. It was difficult to think—why, oh why, had she drunk so much brandy!

  “I tell you the truth when I say that I was disgusted by being forced to kiss her, for it was not something I wanted to do. Nor do I ever want to do it again.”

  When she turned and gazed into his blue eyes, she could see the truth behind them. “I believe you,” she said, surprising herself. “If she ever threatens you again, you must tell me. Why Neil would take up with someone such as she, I will never understand.”

  “Caroline,” Philip whispered as he brushed away a stray tear from her cheek, “I told you that one day I would be ready to move on from my past. That day is soon approaching. Please, be patient with me, and I promise that, as soon as my heart is ready, I will let you know.”

  She went to speak, but then his lips were on hers, his arms holding her close. This was a kiss she had never experienced in her life, for Reginald had never shown her such passion, a passion that reflected her own. When the kiss ended, she was left breathless, and she realized that she truly cared for this man.

  “That was beautiful,” she whispered.

  His smile was full of love as he gazed down at her. “It was,” he replied. “When this is all over, I will tell you everything, I promise.”

  “When what is over?” she asked as she slipped her arm through his and they headed back inside.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Caroline was struggling to keep her attention focused on the discussion of business she was having at the moment with Philip; her thoughts kept returning to the kiss they had shared the previous week. Her imagination was persistent in sending her mind to that day when she would be able to share how much she cared for him and to hear the same returned by him. Although a small lingering doubt played at the back of her mind that Miss Mullens would cause problems, Caroline could not help but allow her heart to guide her steps. And her heart told her that he had indeed told the truth.

  “Now, with your holdings in London,” he was saying, bringing her back to the present, “you could divert a portion of the rents to a new property.”

  The scent of the man alone—a mixture of musk and orange added to that scent that was all his own—made it difficult for her to concentrate.

  “I see,” she replied in an attempt to hide that she had not been listening. “What do you believe I should do?”

  Philip smiled. “It does not matter what I believe,” he said with a touch of amusement. “What matters is whether you would like more holdings in London or if you would rather divert the funds to another city.”

  “Well,” Caroline said, hoping to put her thoughts back to the meeting at hand, “London is the most beautiful city in the world, at least from what I have heard. Therefore, yes, I will advise Mr. Baxter to acquire more property as you suggested.”

&nb
sp; “Very good,” Philip said, and Caroline hid her sigh of relief. Then he paused. “Perhaps you may want to go to London and see what is available for yourself. There is no reason you cannot do so, is there?”

  Caroline had never considered going to London before—Reginald had gone on many occasions but always made excuses as to why she should not go—though she understood that most women in her position spent a vast amount of the year there. “As a matter of fact, there is not,” she replied with a grin. “I must admit that, at times, I forget I am free to leave when I wish.”

  Philip gave her a smile. “You are, Duchess,” he said as he placed his hand on hers.

  Fire erupted in her stomach at his touch, and she slowed her breath to keep control. Would he kiss her again?

  A scream resounded from outside, and the blood in her veins ran cold. She followed Philip outside where they came upon Miss Lindston, blood pouring from her nose and a bruise already forming on her cheek.

  “What happened?” Philip demanded.

  It took a moment for Miss Lindston to speak. “The…the boy…”

  Fear coursed through Caroline unlike any she had ever known. “What of my son?” she shouted. “Where is he?”

  The governess sobbed and her entire body trembled.

  Philip placed a hand on her shoulder. “Where is Oliver?” he asked quietly.

  “The river,” she managed to say. “The men…they took him!”

  Caroline heard screaming, and it took her a moment before she realized that those screams came from her.

  “I tried to stop them!” Miss Lindston cried, burying her head in her hands and sobbing. “They beat me until I lost consciousness, and when I woke, I found this in my hand. I’m so sorry!” She produced a folded piece of paper, and Philip took it and read it.

  “Take this,” he said as he handed the paper to Caroline. “I will go and see if I can catch them before they get too far.”

  “Find my son!” Caroline cried out to Philip as he ran down the drive. She prayed Oliver would be found and returned to her unharmed, for without him, she had no reason to live.

  ***

  Caroline sat with Miss Lindston as Margaret attended to her wounds. Miss Lindston continued to sob, and for good reason; her nose was likely broken and both eyes seemed to be blackening as Caroline watched. The woman was inconsolable, but Caroline was more than likely not the best person to do the consoling, for the anxiousness with which she suffered was close to becoming panic.

  Philip entered the room, disheveled and with worry set in his features. “I am sorry,” he said. “I could find no sign of them.”

  Caroline ran to him and buried her face in his chest. Now it was her turn to sob, and she held nothing back as he whispered consoling words to her. When she felt she could cry no more tears, she pulled away with reluctance and asked, “What do we do now? I read the letter…”

  He held a finger to her lips. “Shh,” he whispered. Then he turned to Margaret. “Will you give us some time alone?” he asked. “Speak no words of this to anyone. Let the servants know that if word of this is whispered outside the walls, they will be dismissed immediately.”

  With wide eyes, Margaret bobbed a curtsy and said, “Yes, Mr. Butler.” Then she hurried out of the room.

  Philip went to Miss Lindston and knelt before her. “I need you to tell me exactly what happened,” he said in a soothing tone. “I know it was a shocking experience, but it is important for Oliver’s sake that you leave out nothing.”

  “Yes, Mr. Butler, of course,” she replied, wiping the tears from her face. She sniffed with effort, and Caroline handed her a kerchief. “Oliver and I had gone on our daily walk. He has insisted that we visit the place where he enjoys fishing since the day you and Her Grace took him there. We were there no more than a few minutes when I heard the hoofbeats.”

  “Very good,” Philip encouraged. “Now, tell me what you saw. Think very hard.”

  “There were five of them,” the governess said, her brow creased in thought, as if that would force the memories to come forth, “and they had their faces covered with pieces of cloth with holes cut in them for the eyes. Four of them jumped from their horses and rushed at us. I pushed Oliver behind me and screamed that they could not do this, but they pushed me out of the way. I fell to the ground, and…and one of them began to kick me.” She was sobbing again, and Caroline put her hand on the woman’s arm and gave her an encouraging smile. It seemed to help, for Miss Lindston continued. “When they grabbed Oliver, I wanted to give chase, but I could barely move. Then one of them struck me so hard, everything went black.” She gave Philip a beseeching look. “I swear, that is all I can remember.”

  “Thank you for your courage,” Caroline said. She could have been the one who was attacked in such a brutal manner just as easily as this woman.

  Philip nodded. “Please, go and rest. I must speak to the Duchess alone.”

  The governess nodded and left the room, her sniffles heard as she made her way up to her room on the second floor.

  Caroline fought the urge to run outside and scream. It was not easy, for she had to keep pushing away images of Oliver lying dead or hurt somewhere. “Philip, I am so lost as to what to do. What do you think? Who are these people?”

  “They are clearly hired brigands. However, I worry that someone inside this home was somehow involved.”

  He must have noticed her alarm, for he quickly added, “We must assume the worst and hope for the best for Oliver.”

  “I will give them whatever they want,” she said adamantly. “No matter if they request all my money and everything I own, I want my son returned safely to me.”

  “You will get him back,” Philip said. “I promise you that. In most cases these people are after money.” He began to pace. “When I went to where it happened, I was able to see that the story Miss Lindston told was true. There were five sets of tracks, though I do not know which one to follow to find Oliver. They were clever; they went off in five different directions, probably as a means to divert us finding him. What makes me worry is that harm may come to him if we do not find him soon.”

  Caroline nodded, pulled out the letter Miss Lindston had given her, and reread it.

  We have your son. Await a second letter, which will contain a specified amount you must pay for his safe return as well as a place to bring the money. Do not alert anyone to the boy’s absence or he will be killed.

  It was not signed.

  Just an hour earlier, her world had seemed complete; however, in the blink of an eye, it had been turned on its head. An overwhelming sense of fear and guilt over what had happened to her son washed over her. She should have been with him. Perhaps then they would have taken her instead.

  “I promised you that you and Oliver would never be hurt,” Philip said, taking her into his arms once again. “I will not rest until he is returned.”

  Although she knew his words were true—that he would do everything he could—they did little to ease her heart, for although he could say the words, he truly could not promise that Oliver would be returned to her unharmed. That could only be guaranteed by those who held him.

  ***

  The night passed with no news of Oliver, and as the sun rose, Caroline sipped at a cup of tea that had no flavor. She had not slept, and she was overcome with exhaustion, for her heart went out to her son. How she longed to have him in her arms again, to hold him and rain kisses down upon his cheeks. To let him know how great her love was for him. Caroline was never one to take her son for granted, not after Reginald had used him to hurt her. However, she had never considered anyone taking him from her in such a heinous manner.

  Approaching footsteps had her turn, and Philip entered the room appearing as tired as she felt. “Today we shall receive the ransom note. It is important to remain calm throughout this process, even if your heart aches.”

  She set the now cold cup of tea on the table and nodded. Remain calm. She had been through horrific experiences in
her life, but this was by far the worse she had ever endured. Her days spent locked away in her tiny room had been a blessing in comparison.

  “I keep thinking Oliver should be waking soon,” she whispered. “Do you think the people who have him will see he is fed? What if he cries for me?” It took everything in her to not begin weeping again, but she had to maintain some sort of calm lest she break down completely.

  Philip placed a hand on hers. “You must hold faith that Oliver is strong and that he will need a strong mother to whom he will return.”

  She nodded, although the thought of faith seemed just out of reach. “You are right. I must do it for him.” She reached into her pocket and produced a second letter, one she had written when sleep alluded her during the night. “I know it is silly, but I wrote a letter to the Duke of Ravens. Would you deliver it to him?”

  Philip gave her a stunned look and then sighed. “I do not believe involving others is wise. Remember what the note said.”

  “Yes, I know. However, perhaps the man will understand my pain and be willing to help. After what he endured with his own family...” She could not continue; the results of that situation had not ended well.

  Philip took the letter from her. “Do not put faith in fables,” he said, but he placed the letter in the inside pocket of his jacket anyway. “I will leave immediately to deliver your letter, but I must say that I do so with reluctance.”

  “Your reluctance is duly noted,” she said with a small smile. “However, this is something I must do. If this man has any insight into how best to see my son returned, I will use it.”

  He gave her a bow and left.

  She heard the front door close behind him, and Caroline walked to the window to gaze out over the garden. Her body screamed at her to sleep, but she knew it would never come, even if she went to lie down. Not until she received the promised second note. Then she could pay the vile people, and her son would be returned to her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The hours crept by, and Caroline feared the ransom letter would never arrive. She had paced a rut in the sitting room floor and finally had gone to stand guard at the door, peering down the driveway for any sign of the letter that was promised.