Blame It on the Duke (The Disgraceful Dukes #3)

by Lenora Bell

  “I’m glad you approve, Dimples.”

  “Oh, I approve,” she said, her voice a satin whisper, sliding over his skin, making him want to slide into her.

  Heat and tightness and . . . Alice.

  Innocent.

  Not yet.

  Not here, out in the open where anyone could stumble upon them. He wanted to seduce her in a leisurely manner. He was determined to make this night memorable and special for her.

  The loud sound of fists pounding on wood startled Nick.

  “Hatherly!” a faint, deep voice shouted. “I know you’re in there.”

  Lear.

  Nick would murder him with his bare hands.

  “A visitor this late in the evening?” Alice asked. “One of your friends?”

  Nick lifted her off his lap and lowered her to the floor. “My so-called friend Captain Lear. I’ll tell him to leave.”

  “Does your butler ever do any . . . butling?”

  “Bill? Only when he feels like it. I have to answer the door, Alice. It could be important.”

  Her eyes told him he’d better be quick about it.

  Nick stood and adjusted his waistcoat. “Don’t move. This won’t take a moment.”

  More shouting and pounding.

  “Go,” she said, giving him a little push. “Before he breaks the door down.”

  Nick walked swiftly to the entranceway, eager to return to his bride.

  When he opened the door Lear immediately strode into the room, bringing a cold gust of air with him.

  “What the hell do you want, Lear? It’s midnight. Are you drunk?”

  Lear shook his head with a sober expression in his black eyes. “I have a delivery for you.”

  Nick stilled. “The one I told you about? But it’s not scheduled for weeks.”

  “Had a message from Hawkins. Thought it would be the one you told me about, but it was something else entirely. I waited outside. Hawkins brought her out the back entrance. She’s in my carriage.”

  “She?”

  “It’s a girl. A lady, I think. Not sure. She hasn’t spoken much.”

  “A female?” Nick exploded. “You know I never harbor females. Not in a houseful of men. We’ll have to find someplace else for her.”

  “No time. Had to take her tonight. And haven’t you got a wife now? There’s at least one female in your house.”

  “My wife will be leaving in a matter of weeks.”

  Lear looked puzzled. “She’s leaving?”

  Nick sighed. “It’s a long story.”

  “Might I inquire what’s happening here?” a soft, clear voice asked.

  Alice stood in the doorway to the inner rooms, her hair still loose and tumbled, turquoise eyes glinting in the shadows.

  Lear gazed at Alice with appreciation filling his eyes. “That your wife?”

  Nick inclined his head.

  “Christ.” Lear whistled admiringly. “You’re in a whole world of trouble, mate.”

  Chapter 12

  In the event of any misconduct on the part of her husband, she should not blame him excessively, though she be a little displeased.

  The Kama Sutra of Vātsyāyana

  “It’s not what you think,” Nick said.

  “Oh?” Alice was in no mood for lies. Not after she’d trusted him so fully.

  Tonight, in the gallery, she’d touched herself for him. Exposed and wanton. Trusting him.

  And now this sordid scene of . . . what was this exactly?

  She’d heard the dark-haired man tell Nick that he had a female in his carriage. He’d also said that the female was to come and live here.

  Nick opened his mouth but she cut him off. “You know what I think this is, Nick? This is one of your mistresses refusing to go quietly off to pasture. She’s demanding to come back and live here. Well, that’s not acceptable.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Recall the terms of our agreement.”

  “You’ve got it all wrong,” Nick said, shaking his head.

  “Lady Hatherly?” The man at the door swept her a dashing bow. “Captain Lear, at your service.”

  He was younger than Nick and nearly as handsome, with collar-length raven-black hair. Was that a gold hoop glinting in his ear? Trust Nick to have outrageous friends.

  “Have you told her?” he asked Nick.

  “Told me what?” asked Alice.

  Nick sighed. “No, I haven’t told her.”

  “I’ll go and fetch the delivery, shall I? While you explain to your bride what’s happening in this unusual household.” Captain Lear spun in a flapping of black cloak and a flash of polished black boots, and left.

  The delivery? Oh, this just got more and more damning. Women were not deliveries.

  Alice tapped her slipper against the entrance hall’s marble floor. “I’m waiting.”

  “It’s difficult to explain.” Nick shoved a hand through his thick, dark brown hair. “I take people in sometimes. My servants. . . . they’re not really servants. More like . . . wards. It started with Berthold. Found him unconscious outside a public house. Left for dead. Prizefighter who fought one too many fights. He had a head wound. Could barely speak.”

  “What are you telling me, Nick? That your servants are former prizefighters? And what’s that got to do with a girl arriving in the dead of night?”

  “If you’ll allow me to elaborate—”

  “You’ll excuse me if I doubt whether you could offer me a satisfactory explanation.”

  “There is an explanation, if you’ll be quiet for a moment—”

  “I will not be quiet. And I won’t have you referring to girls as deliveries.”

  “Alice, for the love of God, will you—”

  “I think they dosed her with laudanum.” Captain Lear reappeared with a slight, cloak-wrapped figure on his arm. The girl wove unsteadily on her feet, her face obscured by a hood.

  When she saw Nick she emitted a squeak and broke away from Lear, running straight into Alice’s arms. She wrapped her arms around Alice’s waist and buried her head in her neck.

  “Don’t let them hurt me,” she said.

  “Are you injured?” Alice asked her.

  The girl nodded.

  “Right then.” Alice could learn the particulars later. This girl was terrified and injured in some way.

  Alice was sometimes squeamish when it came to injuries. She didn’t like the sight of blood. But this situation clearly required her to overcome her fear and help this poor girl, whoever she was.

  “Right then,” she repeated. “You lot stop standing about. She’ll need fresh linens and hot water. Bring some brandy as well, I’m sure you have plenty on hand, and something nourishing to eat, such as beef broth. Can you manage that?”

  Nick stood frozen for a moment, as if he wasn’t accustomed to taking orders, but then he gave a brief nod. “Of course. We’ll arrange everything.”

  “And if she’s severely injured or ill we will need a physician,” added Alice.

  “I know just the fellow,” Nick said.

  Alice squeezed the girl’s shoulders. “Come with me, love.”

  Light purple eyes, swimming with tears, stared at Alice. “Where are we going?”

  “Somewhere safe. Will you allow Lord Hatherly to carry you upstairs?” Alice asked.

  She shrank closer to Alice, her eyes huge. “No, no, no,” she muttered.

  “I’ll help you then.” Alice steered the girl toward the inner door.

  “Take her to the guest chamber one door down from your study,” Nick called over his shoulder as he and Lear left for the kitchens.

  “What’s all the shouting about?” March appeared in the doorway, rubbing his eyes, his nightcap askew on his head.

  “Nothing,” Alice said. “Go back to sleep.”

  “Who’s she?” March asked.

  “I’ve no idea. What’s your name, love?” Alice asked as they passed March and began to climb the stairs.

  There was a pause as the girl f
ought back tears. “Jane.”

  Climbing the stairs was slow going. Jane was so weak that they had to stop every second step.

  What had befallen her? Alice wondered.

  When they finally reached the guest chamber, Alice’s arm ached from holding Jane upright. She swiftly unlatched the door and guided Jane to a bed.

  She untied Jane’s bonnet and slipped it from her head, stopping in dismay when she saw the short tufts of dark hair and the white stretches of scalp visible on her head.

  “Who did this to you?” she whispered, clenching her jaw.

  Jane lifted her hand to her head. “I—I don’t know.” Her eyes grew wide and panicked. “I can’t . . . remember. My head feels so queer.”

  They’d mentioned laudanum. It would account for her stumbling speech and confusion.

  “Never mind,” Alice said soothingly, loosening Jane’s cloak. “We’ll sort everything out tomorrow. Right now you should rest.”

  Jane nodded. “I’m very tired.”

  Alice turned down the covers and helped Jane climb into bed. “Where are you injured? Do you think you have any broken bones?” She felt her ribs and arms.

  “No broken bones. Only these.” She held out her wrists. “On my ankles as well.”

  Alice held a candle close and flinched when she saw the raw red marks around her wrists.

  “What are these marks from?” Tears sprang to Alice’s eyes.

  Chains would leave such marks. Or thick ropes.

  There was a knock at the door, and Jane cowered into a corner of the bed. “Don’t let them find me. I won’t go back. I’ll never go back to the Yellow House.”

  “No one’s forcing you to go anywhere,” Alice said firmly.

  She opened the door only wide enough to slip through.

  Nick and Lear stood outside with everything she’d asked for. “She’s very frightened right now, especially of men. I don’t think you should enter the room.”

  Nick nodded. “I’m sorry to foist her on you.”

  “Her name’s Jane,” said Alice. “And I must go back and wash her wounds.”

  Nick’s jaw tightened. “Wounds?”

  “Her wrists and ankles. I think she’s been chained.”

  Nick and Lear exchanged a tense look.

  Alice hoisted the heavy pot of boiling water, and Nick held the door while she entered the room. “It’s only me with some hot water,” she called to Jane. “I’ll make you some chamomile tea.”

  She went back for the linens.

  “Will you be all right?” Nick asked, his eyes heavy with concern.

  Captain Lear turned away, pretending a sudden interest in the wall.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  He touched her cheek. “Alice, I know you have questions.”

  His touch made her long to curl up in his arms.

  She wanted to twine her arms around him and kiss him. She wanted to be back in his arms in the gallery, feeling him solid and strong beneath her.

  “Thank you,” Nick whispered. He smoothed her hair away from her cheek. “I promise I’ll explain everything tomorrow. Lear and I must go out now.”

  Where did he have to go so late at night? And why were he and Lear both so very grim?

  “I’ll have March leave a tray with some food outside the door.” He turned to leave.

  Alice wanted to shout at him, beg him to stay, but Jane was frightened of men, and Alice was scared of needing Nick too much.

  “Bring us Jane’s cloak,” Lear said.

  “Why?” Alice asked, perplexed.

  “I’ll tell you later,” Nick said impatiently. “We have to go now.”

  Alice went back inside the room and gathered Jane’s torn cloak and handed it to Nick.

  Lear touched the brim of his hat. “My lady. I hope to speak with you again under less troubling circumstances.”

  She nodded and reentered the room.

  Thankfully, a fire had already been laid in the grate and all she had to do was light it.

  With great care she washed Jane’s wrists and patted them dry with a clean towel.

  She opened a jar of the herbal salve Nick had brought. It smelled of lavender and comfrey. A comforting, calming odor with only a slight medicinal bite.

  She smeared some over Jane’s wrists. After the first flinch, Jane remained motionless, allowing Alice to cleanse and dress her wounds.

  She was wearing a dirty, torn gown that probably used to be fine.

  Alice helped her disrobe and used hot water to wash away the worst of the dirt from her skin.

  “I’ll return in a moment,” she said. “I want to fetch one of my nightdresses.”

  Jane nodded dully.

  Alice closed the door behind her and walked swiftly to her room, choosing a soft, flannel nightdress and a pair of woolen stockings. Jane might catch a chill. She was blue about the lips.

  When she returned, Alice helped Jane into the flannel nightdress. Nothing much could be done with her short hair. Still, Alice ran a brush across her head softly.

  “Never mind,” Alice told her. “Your hair will grow back. I’ve never seen eyes such a lavender shade. Have you ever picked lavender from a field? We have fields of lavender near our house in Pudsey. Lying in those fields was my favorite thing to do. It smelled like heaven . . .”

  As she talked of any simple topic that came to mind, Jane visibly relaxed against the pillows.

  Nick had said he took people in sometimes. Obviously, this woman was in terrible need.

  She’d met with some manner of dreadful fate.

  How did Nick know her? Was she under his protection, somehow? Had one of his disreputable friends harmed her in some way?

  The thought made her stomach roil. She knew Nick had unsavory friends—the debauched lords who attended his scandalous entertainments. Could one of them be involved?

  “Where did you come from tonight?” Alice asked.

  Jane shrank back into the bedclothes. “Won’t go back. Don’t make me go to the Yellow House.”

  She twisted the covers in her fists.

  Whatever this Yellow House was, it must be an awful place.

  Jane raised her eyes and Alice nearly took a step backward, there was so much suffering there.

  “They will come for me,” Jane whispered. “They will find me.”

  “Who? Who will find you? Tell me whom you are running from. Who did this to you? Was it a gentleman?”

  “Can’t tell you. So . . . tired.” Jane’s head fell back against the pillows as she slipped into a deep sleep.

  Alice’s head throbbed from the wine she’d had earlier and spun with questions.

  This was not exactly how she’d pictured her wedding night ending.

  It seemed that life with Nick was going to be far more complicated than she ever could have imagined.

  She only hoped he had a reasonable explanation for Jane’s predicament. And that he’d had nothing to do with her suffering.

  She didn’t want to think this way, but perhaps it was a good thing they hadn’t consummated the marriage yet.

  There were some things a lady simply couldn’t forgive.

  Nick and Lear moved swiftly in the darkness.

  The squat silhouette of the Yellow House loomed to the west. Any charm its ivy-covered brick façade possessed was lost in the darkness. It was a heavy, oppressive lump of a building at night.

  A scream pierced the air, chilling Nick’s blood.

  Alice had handled the situation so well, calm and collected, not flying into a rage or shutting down with fear. Not many ladies would have accepted a strange girl with sunken cheekbones, a shorn head, and a haunted look in her eyes, with barely any questions asked.

  “Where should we plant the cloak?” he asked Lear.

  Lear pointed away from Yellow House, across the open fields to a barely discernible ribbon of darkness. “Along Regent’s Canal. Leads straight south to the Thames at Limehouse. We drop her cloak at the edge and make it appear th
at she lost it while climbing down into the canal.”

  Bodies were found floating in the Thames nearly every day.

  One would be identified as hers if they were lucky.

  “I’m sorry, Nick, I know you didn’t want to involve your wife. But what was I to do? Hawkins said the girl was too delicate—said she would die if we left her there.”

  “You did the right thing.”

  “Did you at least have a bit of fun before I ruined everything?” Lear asked.

  “Was about to when you pounded on the door. Thank you very much.”

  Lear chuckled. “Sorry, old boy, you know I had to bring the delivery to you. Nowhere else she would have been safe.”

  “I know. But she can’t stay. I never harbor females. Not in a house full of disreputable ruffians.”

  “You have a respectable wife now.”

  “She’s leaving, Lear. She’s off to India on a grand adventure. She has no more desire to stay here with me than I have for her to stay.”

  Were those words still true?

  He’d wanted her to leave, so he could resume his hedonistic life. But his mind shied away from thinking of the actual day of her departure.

  Watching her slim back walk away, climb into a carriage, board a ship.

  “That’s what you tell yourself, eh?” Lear asked.

  “It’s the truth.”

  “I saw the way you looked at her. There’s something between you. Even I could see it, and I’m notoriously thickheaded when it comes to romantic matters.”

  “Why are wives so much more complicated than mistresses?” Nick asked.

  Lear laughed. “Like I said, you’re in trouble, my friend. But you don’t know how much trouble yet.”

  Nick sobered as they neared the bank of the canal. “We must find the truth about Jane, Lear. If she’s someone of consequence . . . if her presence puts Alice in any kind of danger, I’ll find somewhere else for her immediately.”

  “Maybe she could go to the charity house the Duchess of Harland runs for young females in distress.”

  “Maybe.” Nick lifted his head toward the pearl-streaked sky. “It’s nearing dawn. We should finish this swiftly.”

  He needed to return home. There was a lady waiting for him with accusatory eyes and twenty questions.

  He hadn’t liked the hurt in Alice’s eyes, the mistrust.