The Duke of Darkness

by Cora Lee

  “Then you know who I am.”

  “I do. To what do I owe this honor?” Grayson smiled at him, a sort of half smile that looked as though its wearer was trying to be modest.

  “I’m not sure how much of an honor you’ll think it after I’ve said what I came to say,” Rhuddlan replied, taking a drink of his ale as he seated himself opposite his quarry.

  The smile didn’t waver. “And what is that?”

  Rhuddlan had decided on the way over to simply be direct. “I want to talk about Olivia Stone.”

  The smile grew and Grayson leaned back in his chair. “My betrothed.”

  “Not according to her.”

  The smoke from the fireplace drifted toward them, tainting the air with a slightly sooty quality, but Grayson appeared not to notice. “She just needs a little encouragement.”

  “It was encouragement, then, when you threatened to kill her and her dog?” Rhuddlan asked through clenched teeth.

  Grayson laughed and lifted his own tankard. “Is that what she told you?” he replied after taking a drink. “I always knew she was prone to exaggeration, but I never thought she would stray that far from reality.”

  “A hysterical female then?” Rhuddlan said, squeezing the handle of his tankard.

  “Yes she is, Your Grace, and I apologize for her. It sounds as if she’s wasted your time with tales of my villainy, when I’ve only been trying to help her.”

  Rhuddlan grunted. What he really wanted to do was smash his fist into the knight’s face, but as satisfying as that would be, it wouldn’t accomplish anything. Yet. “She doesn’t need your help,” he said in a growly voice.

  “Are you— Are you warning me off?” Grayson asked, leaning forward over the table. “Do you think to steal my woman from me, Your Grace?”

  “Even if she were a possession and not a person, I cannot steal from you what isn’t yours,” Rhuddlan countered, bending forward. “Miss Stone has made it clear that she does not wish to ever see you again.”

  Grayson leaned further forward, his nose almost touching Rhuddlan’s. “Is that so?”

  “It is,” Rhuddlan said in what his brother used to call his Deadly Calm Duke Voice. “And here’s something to keep in mind, Sir George. I command the largest network of informants in the realm, which means that no matter where you are, there is likely someone in my pay close by.” He reached over and grabbed the man by his cravat and gave it a little twist. “If you so much as breathe the same air as Miss Stone, I will know about it.”

  “And what are you going to do if I keep courting her?” Grayson asked, grinning. “Have some ruffians beat me?”

  An image of Vaughn’s bloodied body flashed across Rhuddlan’s mind and a wave of anger washed over him. He again pushed the fire down and called upon his cold, calculating side. “No, that’s much too easy. I’ll come for you myself. And no one will ever know what happened to you,” he said with a tiny smile on his lips.

  Grayson swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, but tried to maintain his veneer of bravado. “What are you going to do, kill me? That’s a capital offense.”

  “But who would prosecute me?” Rhuddlan asked with genuine curiosity. “Have your friends or family the power and money to oppose me?” Even in the dim light, Rhuddlan could see the color draining from his adversary’s face and he let his smile grow slightly, relaxing his hold on Grayson’s cravat. “Besides, there can’t be a prosecution if no one ever finds your body.”

  “What?” The word was more of a croak than proper English.

  “Did you ever meet my cousin Rhys?” Rhuddlan asked, settling back into his chair as if to tell a story. For once his black reputation might work in his favor. “He, too, decided he could flout my authority.”

  Grayson’s eyes widened slightly. The whole of Society knew about the argument between Rhuddlan and Rhys Blake that occurred just days before the latter seemingly vanished from the face of the earth. They knew that Rhys owned a piece of property Rhuddlan had long coveted, and that Rhys’s son sold it to Rhuddlan shortly after his father’s disappearance. The rumor mill had filled in the blanks with its own speculation which, judging by the blatant fear creeping into his expression, George Grayson was very familiar with.

  Grayson shrugged his shoulders, trying and failing to brush off Rhuddlan’s implications. “I don’t know why you’re getting so wound up over an insignificant little tart like Olivia, but if you want my leavings, who am I to say no?”

  My leavings. Rhuddlan nearly unleashed his fist then, but held himself in check. Grayson was promising, in his own ugly way, to leave Miss Stone in peace. Rhuddlan’s words had done their job—the knight was clearly terrified. Throwing a punch would only make Rhuddlan seem human again, and would likely result in Grayson terrorizing Miss Stone even more.

  But if he came within five miles of her...

  “Excellent,” he said instead, lifting his tankard to his lips for a long drink. “I’ll hold you to that.”

  Rhuddlan rose from the table and strode to the door, forcing his body to move at an easy pace. He made his way to the stables, stripping off his tailcoat and cravat while the ostler brought his stallion, Hermes, around. He held the horse back until they’d reached the edge of the village, then he let the animal have its head.

  Perhaps, if his horse ran fast enough and long enough, Rhuddlan’s pent up emotions would blow away in the wind.

  ~~~

  Olivia sat in the sitting room connected to the bedchamber she temporarily called her own, her needle flashing in the sunlight that shone brightly through the windows as she mended shirts for old Mr. Jones. A widower who’d elected not to marry a second time, he’d been her steadiest customer since she’d arrived in Wales, paying her for her services partly in coin and partly in fresh eggs laid by the three hens he kept. Mrs. D. and Miss H. sat together in front of the empty fireplace, exchanging smiles as Mrs. D. read aloud the latest letter from her daughter in Kent.

  A knock on the door sounded, and Artie, who had been snoring contentedly in a shaft of sunlight, bounded to his feet and began to bark.

  Mrs. D. glanced over at Olivia. “Were you expecting someone this afternoon?”

  “No one knows I’m here,” she answered, shaking her head and rising from her chair. She set Mr. Jones’s shirt aside and, with a shrug of her shoulders, went to answer the door. “Loup, go to Mrs. D.” Olivia waited until her dog complied, quiet but only half-sitting, ready to spring into action should he be needed.

  Olivia swung the door open, expecting a maid or footman, perhaps with news about poor Mr. Vaughn.

  “Miss Stone, may I speak to you for a moment?”

  Olivia’s mouth dropped open. There before her stood the Duke of Rhuddlan with nary a servant in sight. “Erm, yes, of course, Your Grace,” she stuttered, opening the door wider to gesture him inside.

  “I know this is unusual,” he continued, nodding briefly at Mrs. D. and Miss H. when they popped up from their seats and dropped curtsies, “but the subject we must discuss is rather delicate, and I thought it best to do so somewhere other than my study.”

  “Will you sit?” Olivia asked, falling back on behavior that had been drilled into her from infancy and resuming her seat. No matter their rank, a gentleman would never sit before a lady did.

  The duke swished his coattails back and settled on a large ottoman, his hands coming to rest on his knees. Mrs. D. and Miss H. each began to stand, but His Grace held up a hand to stay the motion. “Sit, please. This may also concern you both.”

  Mrs. D.’s eyes widened and she once again shot a what’s-happening look at Olivia, but she resumed her seat. Not in time to catch Artie, however, who had decided this newcomer needed to be investigated.

  “I have a proposal for your consideration, Miss Stone,” the duke began, holding his hand out for Artie to sniff.

  Olivia sat up a little straighter, willing her dog to behave himself. “And what is that, Your Grace?”

  “That
we disappear together for a time,” he answered.

  Olivia looked for any hint of a smile, the tiniest pull at the corners of his mouth, but found nothing. “Disappear?”

  He nodded once, running a hand down Artie’s back as the dog continued his inspection. “I will quietly escort you to your cousin in Liverpool. If he’s a good man he’ll see to your comfort and safety, and you’ll never have to worry about George Grayson again.”

  “Did it go so badly with Sir George?” she asked, trying valiantly to keep her voice from shaking. If the most powerful man in Wales was urging her to flee, things could not have gone well.

  “He is unpredictable,” the duke said with a frown. Artie’s nose was pressed against His Grace’s trouser leg by this point, the dog having latched onto some enticing smell, but the man seemed not to notice. “I believe I’ve shown him the hell that awaits him should he ever come near you again. But he may also risk my wrath and seek retribution against you for my intervention.”

  Olivia pushed away her manners and leaned back in her chair, blowing out a breath. “I was afraid of that. But my cousin’s home is the first place he’ll look when he figures out that I’ve gone away.”

  “He knows of your cousin?”

  It was Olivia’s turn to nod. “My family connection is the only reason Sir George wants to wed me—I am somewhat distantly related to Lord Teverton, and Sir George wants very badly to be an aristocrat.”

  “Ah, I see.” His Grace’s hand seemed to clamp a little tighter on his knee, but his free hand remained on Artie’s back. “I don’t know Teverton personally, but I know of him. If he’s any kind of gentleman, he’ll do right by you. If he turns you away,” the duke continued before Olivia could ask the question that had plagued her for months, “then I will see to your comfort and safety. All three of you.”

  “Because we helped you?” Mrs. D. asked in a small voice.

  “In part,” the duke acknowledged. “But also because you are my tenants, my responsibility. And because in allowing me to take you to Liverpool, you would be doing me a favor.”

  Olivia tilted her head slightly to one side. “How would we be doing you a favor? It’s not as if you’d be tagging along on a trip we were already planning to make, Your Grace. To be frank, I doubt I possess the funds to even get to Teverton on my own, let alone purchase food and lodging along the way.”

  The Duke of Rhuddlan studied her for a long moment, his green eyes trained on her face as if he could see every lie she’d ever told written there on her skin. Then he blinked, appearing to have come to some conclusion. “You likely heard about the mill that burned down.” He paused, continuing on after she’d nodded. “And you witnessed the attack on me. There have been other...incidents...as well.”

  “Oh dear,” Miss Hatch murmured from her seat by the fireplace.

  “Indeed,” the duke said, briefly turning in her direction. “The prevailing hypothesis is that if I were to leave the estate for a while, these incidents of violence would follow me.”

  “So if you leave the estate discreetly and tell no one where you are going, you’re hoping these incidents will stop all together,” Olivia supplied.

  “Exactly,” he said, stabbing a finger into the air.

  Olivia shifted her gaze from the duke to her neighbors and lifted her eyebrows in question. What did they think of all this? Their association with her put them in Sir George’s path, and they’d both benefit from the Duke of Rhuddlan’s assurances. But if they thought him evil...

  His Grace must have read her look as hesitation, because he added, “I promised to ensure your safety and comfort should Teverton fail to do his familial duty. I will also stand by my promise to see you safe from George Grayson for as long as he is a threat to you.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” Olivia said, reflexively offering him an appreciative smile.

  “But you would like specifics,” he added for her, ruffling the thick fur on the scruff of Artie’s neck as the dog finally gave up sniffing and sat down beside the ottoman.

  “Yes,” she replied, sounding both eager and wary at the same time. Her life had been filled with little more than uncertainty since her parents’ deaths, and she wasn’t about to pin her hopes for security on empty promises.

  He shifted on the ottoman. “You may retain possession of your cottage, rent free, for the remainder of your life.”

  The sound of Olivia’s in-drawn breath sounded like a roar in the silence that followed His Grace’s pronouncement. A life interest in her home would effectively make her independent, regardless of her cousin’s potential generosity or lack thereof. It would mean she could turn away Sir George’s advances without fear of becoming homeless and starving.

  “My cottage and protection from Sir George?” she asked in a half-whisper.

  “That is correct.”

  “And all I have to do is travel with you to Liverpool?”

  “Yes. Your neighbors—” he gestured to Mrs. D. and Miss H, who were perched on the edge of their seats, clasping hands “—might also want to come along. They would likely be targeted by Grayson in your place.”

  Olivia found herself shaking her head. “Why would you do this for me? For us?”

  “Because you shouldn’t be forced to marry a man you fear,” he answered quietly. “And no one should be harmed because a man’s advances have been rebuffed.”

  “You are kind to say so,” she managed around the lump forming in her throat. “Many gentlemen would disagree with you.”

  “Not in my hearing,” he quipped with a half-smile. “And it’s not as though there’s no risk to you three. Anyone with a connection to the dukedom of Rhuddlan is a potential target for whoever is committing these violent attacks.”

  Olivia let her gaze slide to her friends once more, before meeting the duke’s eyes. “May we have a moment for discussion, Your Grace?”

  “Of course,” he replied, giving Artie one last pat before rising. “I will await your decision in my study.”

  The door had barely closed behind him when Mrs. D. and Miss H. fairly burst from their seats by the fireplace. They weren’t smiling exactly, but neither were they outright scowling.

  “What do you think?” Olivia asked, looking from one to the other.

  “Your own cottage and transportation to Lord Teverton are awfully compelling reasons to agree to this scheme,” Mrs. D. said, a note of reluctance in her voice.

  Miss H. was shaking her head. “It’s too dangerous. If anyone discovers who he is before we reach Lord Teverton...”

  “And if we remain in our homes, you might as well get used to calling me Lady Grayson,” Olivia returned, trying to keep her tone gentle and not quite succeeding. “For Sir George will see that I submit to him, one way or another.”

  Miss Hatch squinted at Olivia. “You want to go, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” Olivia said resolutely. “If Lord Teverton does indeed agree to help me, then I will no longer have to live my life in fear of displeasing Sir George, and neither will you. If he declines my request for assistance, I will still have my cottage and we will be under the Duke of Rhuddlan’s protection.”

  “When you put it that way,” Mrs. D. said, her frown deepening, “it sounds like an easy decision. But the duke himself said it was dangerous to be linked to him. What if something happens to you?”

  “If I don’t take this chance, George Grayson will kill one of us. I have no doubt about that.” Olivia swallowed hard. She’d been reluctant to say the words aloud, but the thought had been there in the back of her mind for weeks. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to either of you that I could have prevented.”

  “You stop blaming yourself this instant,” Mrs. D. said firmly. “Sir George is responsible for his actions and no one else.”

  Miss H. laid a hand on her companion’s shoulder. “You’re both right,” she said, her eyes moving from Mrs. D. to Olivia. “If Sir George burns down our home, it would not be your fault. But if
there is something we can do to try to keep ourselves safe from him, then we should do it.”

  Mrs. D. looked sideways at Miss. H. “You want to travel with Lord Ruthven?”

  Olivia suppressed a laugh. Lord Ruthven was the main character—a nobleman-turned-vampire—in the book they’d read aloud together not so long ago. “Is that how you think of His Grace?” she asked instead. “As a conniving, deceitful demon? Even though he’s taken us in to his own home to protect us?”

  “He is not all that he seems,” was the only thing she would say, clamping her mouth shut and crossing her arms over her chest.

  “And yet, I think he is our best hope,” Miss Hatch replied gently. “Our only other choice is to deal with Sir George ourselves.”

  A shiver coursed through Olivia despite the warmth from the sun still shining in the windows. Mrs. Davies must have seen it, for she relaxed her mouth and her arms.

  “When you put it that way, I cannot argue.” She pointed a finger at Olivia. “But you had better get all His Grace’s promises in writing, before witnesses.”

  “A good piece of advice,” Olivia replied with a nod. “I will be sure to do that.”

  “Then we are agreed?” Miss Hatch asked, looking once again from Mrs. D. to Olivia. “We will travel with the Duke of Rhuddlan to Liverpool and meet your cousin.”

  “And be rid of Sir George’s threats once and for all,” Olivia added with more conviction than she felt. The duke was her last best hope, certainly. And if he upheld the promises he’d already made to her, she should be able to live out the rest of her life in obscure peace and quiet.

  But what if he found out who she really was and what she’d done?

  Chapter Four

  It was two more days before they could depart. Rhuddlan posted letters to both his good friend the Duke of Sussex and Teverton while they made their preparations. The letter to Teverton explained Miss Stone’s situation and included a note in her own hand. The letter to Sussex contained a request for assistance—Sussex was the older brother of Nick’s patron, the Duke of Cumberland, and wielded a fair amount of power as a son of the king. Rhuddlan hoped Sussex might be able to rein in his brother, allowing Rhuddlan to deal with his own brother unimpeded.