Forever My Duke--Unlikely Duchesses

by Olivia Drake

  “That’s absurd. You must know I’m not so dishonorable.”

  A part of her desperately wanted to believe that. Yet how could she be sure? “It’s the way of the aristocracy. My father was a bastard. Sir Basil may have sent him to the best schools, but the fact remains that my grandfather was a notorious libertine in his younger days. So, tell me honestly that you don’t know any married noblemen who keep a mistress on the side.”

  Hadrian drew a breath as if to speak, but remained silent. Of course he couldn’t deny it. The dissolute foibles of the British upper class were something she’d grown up hearing about. Hadrian was warm, attentive, kind, witty, and wonderful in so many ways. But if he lacked a deep, abiding love for her, then it simply wasn’t enough.

  Though her heart felt torn in two, Natalie held her head high as she stepped away and picked up the plate of sweets. She couldn’t stay a moment longer for fear he’d see the tears that stung her eyes. “I’d better deliver this to Leo before people notice we’ve both disappeared from the ball.”

  She turned on her heel and walked out into the corridor, leaving Hadrian standing in the study. But not for long. The sharp scrape of his footsteps echoed against the marble walls.

  A harried expression on his face, he caught up to her at the back staircase. “Don’t judge me by the actions of other men.”

  “Rather, I’m merely trying to be realistic about the mores of the ton.” She grasped her skirt and ascended the steps, and when he kept to her side, she went on, “Consider my situation if I were to marry you. Instead of returning to America and opening a school, I’d be embracing a new life here in England. I’d be a fool to give up my plans and everything that’s familiar to me without being certain of your steadfast love.”

  “I am steadfast, dammit. A regular stick-in-the-mud, remember?”

  As they reached a landing and proceeded up another flight of stairs, she steeled herself to say, “You’ve had mistresses, I presume.”

  He appeared discomfited by the blunt statement. “Whatever I’ve done as a bachelor would have no bearing on my behavior as a husband.” Placing his hand at the small of her back, he looked at her with a penetrating gaze. “I believe in marital fidelity, I swear it to you, Natalie. I would never betray my vows to you. Would that I could convince you of my sincerity.”

  Then tell me that you love me.

  Her throat taut, she continued up the steps until they reached the top floor, where the nursery was located. She didn’t doubt Hadrian was smitten with her; he had displayed his interest in many ways over the past few weeks. But she still sensed there was a part of him she didn’t know. Just how deep was his attachment to her? Was it more than mere passion? Could he love her and comfort her, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, and remain faithful for the rest of their lives?

  That was the nagging question.

  As they entered the shadowed schoolroom, moonlight guided her path through the maze of miniature tables and chairs. She had a poignant vision of Hadrian here as a little boy, allowed to visit Clayton House for only two weeks out of each year. He would have been a well-behaved child, obedient to adult authority. That meant enduring many tearful good-byes from his mother when he had to return to Oak Knoll and Lord Godwin’s cold guardianship.

  A revelation struck her. It wasn’t any lack in their relationship that kept him from acknowledging that he loved her; it was his past. Hadrian must have walled off his heart at a young age. Perhaps, due to the frequent separations from his mother, he had come to associate love with pain. It would explain quite a lot. With his upbringing, it made sense that he was not a man who could easily give voice to his deepest emotions.

  Natalie also realized that she’d expected him to bare his soul when she herself had not done the same. If the prospect made her feel vulnerable, only imagine what it would do to a strong man who had been conditioned to bury his feelings.

  She stopped near the corridor that led to the nursery bedchambers and turned to face him. The faint lilt of music carried from downstairs, but the crowded ballroom seemed worlds away from the two of them, cocooned in silken darkness.

  Lifting her hand, she stroked his cheek, relishing the slightly raspy feel of his smooth-shaven skin. “I’m afraid I haven’t been entirely fair to you. There’s something I ought to have told you down in your study a little while ago. I love you, Hadrian. I love you with all my heart and soul.”

  He went very still, and Natalie wished she could read his expression through the gloom. She felt terribly in need of his arms around her. What was he thinking? Would it be the catalyst for him to finally lower his guard? Or would he back away from such a blatant declaration of sentiment?

  His hands tightened almost painfully on her shoulders. “My darling,” he murmured in a low, husky tone, “I can’t begin to tell you what that means to me—”

  Just then, a muffled thump sounded behind her. The noise seemed to have emanated from one of the bedchambers. Despite the intensely charged moment, her motherly instincts sprang to full alert.

  She twisted around. “Did you hear that?”

  “Perhaps Leo fell out of bed. Let’s see.”

  His door stood wide open, when he usually slept with it closed. Too alarmed to wonder why, she hastened inside the dim-lit room. A candle enclosed in a glass chimney flickered atop the chest of drawers and illuminated the portrait of Audrey that they’d brought from Oak Knoll, for the boy found the image of his mother to be comforting.

  But Leo wasn’t lying on the floor.

  Mystified, Natalie tiptoed toward the shadowed cot and set down the plate of sweets on the bedside table. His covers lay in a tumbled heap, but when she leaned over to check on him, a gasp paralyzed her throat.

  The bed was empty.

  Chapter 26

  “Hadrian! Leo is gone.”

  Striding forward, the duke threw back the blankets. “Then what the devil was that noise?”

  “Who knows? I’m more concerned about where he is.”

  He placed a comforting arm around her shoulders. “There’s no need to panic, darling. He likely slipped downstairs to peek at the ball. It’s just what the little brat would do.”

  His reassuring tone calmed Natalie. Of course. The distant sound of music might have lured Leo out of bed. Then her gaze sharpened on a piece of folded paper that lay on his pillow, and she snatched it up, hastening to examine it by the light of the candle.

  The message printed in black ink sent an arctic chill down her spine. She uttered a cry, spinning toward Hadrian. “Dear God! Leo’s been abducted!”

  Grim disbelief on his face, the duke read the note aloud. “‘If you wish to see the boy alive again, Miss Fanshawe must come alone with five thousand in banknotes to the dam in Hyde Park by eleven tomorrow. Leave the sack underneath the mulberry bush at the east end. If anyone should attempt to accompany her, the boy dies.’” His stark gaze met Natalie’s as he flung the paper back down onto the bed. “What blasted foolery is this? How the devil could a villain have broken into my house? Where were the nursemaids?”

  “Flora was needed in the kitchen tonight. But Tippy should be here.”

  Natalie darted out to the next bedroom and rapped hard on the door before opening it and hurrying inside. Hadrian had seized the candle before following her, and the feeble light fell upon Mrs. Tippet lying on the floor beside her bed. Clad in a gray flannel nightgown, she was bound and gagged, her brown eyes wide as she made muffled noises of distress.

  Hadrian sprang to remove the strip of cloth from the servant’s mouth, and Natalie gave the gasping woman a drink from the water glass on the bedside table. “Are you all right?”

  “Aye … though I fell from the bed just now … whilst trying to wiggle out of these bonds.”

  “Who did this to you?” Hadrian demanded, untying the ropes that secured her wrists and ankles. “Did you see him?”

  “’Twas two men … dressed in black … wearing masks.”

  “Were they
tall, short, stout? Anything you can remember will help.”

  Rubbing her wrists, Mrs. Tippet managed to sit up with Natalie’s aid. “It happened so fast, Your Grace. Heard a noise that woke me out of a dead sleep. Soon as I opened my door, they grabbed me. One was big, hulking, foulmouthed. The other was slighter and … he talked like a gentleman.”

  “How long ago was this?” Natalie asked.

  “Mayhap half an hour.” The woman clutched at the duke’s hands. “Where is Master Leo? Is he safe?”

  “He’s been abducted.”

  She crumpled in horror. “Oh, my darling boy! I feared they meant him ill. Pray find him, Your Grace!”

  Hadrian’s face was carved in stone. “I shall. But I must ask you to remain here, lock your door, and don’t speak a word of this to anyone. One of the men may still be in the house and I won’t have him warned.”

  As he pivoted on his heel and strode out of the room, Natalie dashed after him. They passed swiftly through the schoolroom and headed toward the stairs. “It’s Wymark,” she hissed, with sickening certainty. “That must be why he was out in the garden. He seemed nervous, glancing over his shoulder.”

  “My thoughts precisely. The bastard needs that ransom money. He’s deeply in debt from gambling. When we saw him, his accomplice must have just spirited Leo away through the garden gate, probably to a waiting carriage.”

  Her heart pounding in dread, she imagined the little boy bound and gagged and frightened. She fought off a bone-deep shudder as they raced down two flights of stairs. Heading toward the ballroom, Hadrian stalked along an ornate corridor, and she hastened to keep up with his long strides. “What are we going to do?”

  “I intend to find that weasel and choke the truth out of him.”

  Eyes narrowed, he frowned as he strode straight ahead, his fingers gripped into fists. Wymark had returned to the party, she remembered, likely in an attempt to deflect any suspicion once Leo’s absence was discovered. No doubt the viscount would pretend that he’d been in the ballroom all night, so he couldn’t possibly be the perpetrator. Then tomorrow he would collect the ransom from the appointed spot in Hyde Park and no one would be the wiser.

  Except that things wouldn’t go according to his diabolical plan, Natalie thought fiercely. She had been right to distrust him, and she had no intention of staying out of the fray. They would corner him and if Hadrian couldn’t make the villain talk, then she would.

  The music grew louder as they approached the arched doorway. The large open area outside the ballroom teemed with elegant guests, drinking and chatting. Others strolled in and out of the drawing room that had been set up with tables for cardplaying. The scene had an otherworldly quality to Natalie. How strange that people could be laughing and dancing when Leo had just been snatched from his bed!

  She stayed close to Hadrian as he skirted the edge of the throng. Like him, she kept her eyes sharp for a glimpse of Wymark’s wheat-gold hair and narrow features. Since he was nowhere in the reception area, they entered the ballroom. The long, spacious chamber wasn’t nearly as crowded as earlier, for many guests had repaired to the adjoining parlor to partake of the buffet supper. But there were still a fair amount of people milling around, and Hadrian paused near the wall to scan the horde.

  As the masses shifted, she spotted their quarry and leaned closer to murmur in Hadrian’s ear, “There, by the balcony doors!”

  No sooner had the sentence left her lips than the duke stalked in that direction. Wymark stood with a group of young gentlemen who looked as dissolute as himself. One of them swayed, stumbling into a fern and nearly knocking it over, which made all of them hoot with laughter.

  It was then that Wymark looked up and his eyes widened on Hadrian. He stood frozen, apparently noting the grim fury on the duke’s face. Abruptly, he spun around and vanished out the open door.

  Hadrian muttered a curse and sprang after him, weaving through the clusters of guests, ignoring those who attempted to speak to him. Natalie did likewise, until disaster struck just shy of the exit. Their path was suddenly blocked by none other than the Prince Regent himself, with his retinue of courtiers, several ladies and gentlemen.

  “Ah, there you are, Clayton. Do compliment that French chef of yours on the excellent crab fingers, though he might add a little less cream next time. I’ve the merest touch of dyspepsia, but I find that it improves if I take a little promenade before finishing my meal.”

  “Pray stroll to your heart’s content, sire,” Hadrian said smoothly. “Now, if I may beg your pardon, Miss Fanshawe is feeling faint. I must escort her outside at once for a breath of fresh air.”

  Natalie clutched Hadrian’s arm and strove for a weak, swooning look. “Too much excitement, I fear. We’re not used to such grand balls in America.”

  The prince granted permission with a royal wave of his sausage fingers, and she and Hadrian made their escape onto the deserted balcony without further ado. But the delay had cost them. He dashed to the railing to peer down into the large garden. “Bloody hell! He’s making for the gate!”

  He raced down the stone steps with Natalie close behind him, hampered somewhat by her skirts. She spied a shifting movement in the shadows ahead before the creak of hinges disturbed the night air. “Stay here,” the duke ordered over his shoulder before sprinting after the fugitive.

  Natalie ignored the directive, lifting her hem to dart down the path. She reached the darkened mews behind the house in time to hear the rattle of wheels and the swift clopping of hooves.

  Hadrian came jogging back and passed by her without stopping to speak. She was forced to run alongside him. “Is he gone, then?”

  “He’s in his phaeton, the one with the yellow wheels. By God, I’ll find the bastard if it’s the last thing I do.”

  Twin lanterns marked the wide door of the brick stables, and the duke vaulted ahead of her to vanish into the building. She entered to the familiar smell of hay and horses, to find Hadrian already leading his bay gelding from a stall as a groom scrambled out of the tack room, lugging a saddle. The duke arranged the bridle, slipping the bit into the horse’s mouth.

  Natalie dashed down the row of stalls to find her chestnut mare. As she reached for the half-door, Hadrian stopped her with a glare. “No! You’re staying here. You aren’t dressed for riding and it’s far too dangerous.”

  She parted her lips in a retort, then clamped her teeth, recognizing that a quarrel would only slow him down when time was of the essence. While the servant completed the saddling and tightened the cinch, Hadrian disappeared through another door and returned a moment later with a small pistol, which he tucked into his coat. He swung into the saddle, looking incongruously like a pirate in elegant evening clothes.

  His fierce gaze bored into her. “I’ll find him, Natalie.”

  Then he flicked the reins and rode out, vanishing into the darkness.

  The instant he was gone, she opened the stall door and led out the mare. Blast the man, she would not sit idly while Leo was in grave danger. She could ride as well as Hadrian, and if she’d survived a bloody massacre in the wilderness, then she could face down a weakling like Wymark.

  “Nay, miss! His Grace forbade ye!”

  She sent her most quelling stare at the young groom. “Fetch a bridle. And be quick about it.”

  He blinked before vanishing into the tack room to bring the requested halter, which she swiftly placed on the mare. Then she led the horse to the mounting block.

  “Yer saddle, miss!”

  “There’s no time. Have you a knife?”

  The groom dug in his pocket and produced a small one in a battered leather sheath. Handing it over with obvious reluctance, he eyed her as if she were a madwoman. And she was mad, Natalie knew as she tucked the knife into the bodice of her ballgown. She was mad with fear and fury that anyone would dare to threaten Leo.

  Ignoring the gawking groom, she stepped onto the mounting block, hiked up her skirts, and threw her leg over the horse. She’d ri
dden bareback often as a girl, though only on her father’s horse farm and never in the city. If any of the society snoots could see her now, with her silk stockings exposed to mid-thigh, they’d condemn her as an irredeemable hoyden.

  They could choke on their rules.

  Hadrian could be no more than two minutes ahead of her. She prayed he’d picked up Wymark’s trail and they could find Leo. With a determined kick of her gold dancing slippers, she urged the mare into the gloom of the mews and out onto the street.

  * * *

  Richard parked his phaeton in the narrow alley and hoped it wouldn’t be stolen. There was no stable behind the derelict house and he hadn’t dared to bring one of his father’s grooms for fear of having another witness to his crime.

  He tied the reins to a broken fence post, his fingers clumsy from the fright he’d endured. The moment he’d spied Clayton’s face, dark with fury, across the ballroom, he’d known with sick certainty that the gig was up. By horrid mischance, the duke had already discovered the boy’s abduction.

  And he suspected his cousin of the deed.

  Richard cursed his rotten luck for having run into the duke and Miss Fanshawe in the garden, right after he and Bert had bundled the squirmy little devil into the coach. At the time, he’d only been relieved that they hadn’t noticed the red mark on his forefinger where the bugger had bit him. If all had gone according to plan, Richard would’ve had an iron-tight alibi simply by staying at the party all night.

  But Clayton and Miss Fanshawe had put two and two together with terrifying speed. The fact that the duke had chased after Richard confirmed the awful truth. His only stroke of luck had been making a clean getaway in the phaeton that Bert had left for him in the mews just in case such a quick exit was needed.

  Now, he grabbed the mask that he’d tossed under the seat after the abduction. It was merely a precaution, for his nephew ought to be asleep in the upstairs bedchamber.