by Aubrey Wynne
Hands grabbed her arms as her brother’s words came back to her. A well-placed knee will give you a good five minutes. She could feel his face close to hers and tried not to gag. She jerked her knee up as hard as she could and flinched as she made contact.
Her attacker howled with pain, and she heard him drop to the floor. “You little bitch, you’ll pay for that.” He wasn’t whispering anymore.
Hannah began to scream again as loud as she could, then fumbled along the wall for the door, a knob, escape. Her hand hit something hard and protruding. She sobbed in relief, fumbling with it, pulling, rattling, and screaming again for help. The hem of her dress caught on something, and she pulled.
“Get. Over. Here. Now.” The voice behind her was cold with rage. He yanked hard on her skirt, pulling her off balance. She fell onto her back, her head hitting the stone floor. She blinked and saw spots floating before her eyes. The smell of leather and peppermint was next to her again, and she remembered.
The Duke of Colvin.
“Let’s see what Darby has taught you, hmm?” he snarled. “I know you’ve kissed him. It was quite a show in the garden.” His thumb pressed against her throat. “I believe you’ll find my attentions a bit more…demanding.”
Hannah gasped and tried to suck in a breath. Her hands searched along the floor for anything solid and latched onto a smooth piece of broken pottery. She found the edge, wrapped her fingers around it, striking blindly with all her strength.
“Aaaagh!” His grip relaxed, and he sat up. His weight pushed the air from her belly for a moment. “You have spirit, I’ll give you that. But I’ve had worse than that for a paid pleasure.”
Colvin grabbed a handful of her hair and shook her. Her head pounded as if it would explode. She began to scream again, hoping for someone, anyone to hear her. A hand covered her mouth, and she sank her teeth into the flesh. He released her with a yelp, and she took a breath, letting out another scream.
“You bloody whore,” he howled and then let out a ghastly chuckle. “I’ll enjoy bringing you down. The look on Darby’s face when he finds—”
The door rattled. “Hannah!”
She began to fight with all the strength left, pummeling and kicking until the duke rolled off with a curse. “Nicholas!”
Two heavy thumps against the door were followed by splintering wood, then weak light flooded the enclosure. Two figures rushed in as she rolled over on to her hands and knees, gasping for breath, tears streaming down her cheeks. Then Nicholas was there, cradling her in his arms, rocking her, whispering soothing words. She clung to him, her body trembling as she gulped in air.
Chapter Twelve
“Justice is the insurance which we have on our lives and property. Obedience is the premium which we pay for it.”
William Penn
December 22, 1819
“Get up you blaggard, in the name of the King,” demanded a voice Hannah did not recognize.
“I’m afraid you don’t realize who you are addressing.” Colvin sounded revoltingly assured. “I’m afraid our tryst got a little out of hand, but she did meet me willingly.”
“NO!” Hannah rasped, “You tricked me with a note. I thought it was from…” How could she admit she was meeting Nicholas here alone? She would be ruined, whichever story came out. And when he set her off his lap and stood, turning his back on her, she knew Nicholas had come to the same conclusion. She swiped the renewed tears from her cheeks.
“I’m afraid she’s embarrassed,” he continued. “She needn’t worry about her reputation. I suppose I could marry the chit. I do need an heir—”
Crack!
Hannah looked up as Colvin’s head snapped back. First one fist then another plunged into the duke’s stomach, producing a painful grunt and gasp. Nicholas quickly followed it with another upper to the jaw, and Colvin crumpled to the floor, his head making a sickening thump against the flagstone. Nicholas straddled the man and punched him again, and again, and again.
“Darby! If you kill him, we can’t hang him.”
Nicholas let his arms drop to his sides, his chest heaving as he looked down at the bloody duke. “I’d prefer to do it myself,” he argued, wiping the sweat from his face with his coat sleeve.
The duke turned his head to the side and spit. A vile laughter faded into a bout of wheezing. “Look at the note. It’s signed with a “C” for Colvin.” He spit again and drew in a harsh breath. “She met me willingly. And even if she didn’t, I would never hang for rape. I am the sixth Duke of Colvin and my father served the king well.”
“I thought it was ‘C’ for Casanova.” Hannah’s voice was no more than a croak. “He trapped me in here, i-in the dark.”
“Tell that to a jury of my peers.” Colvin tried to push Nicholas off, let out a low moan, and fell back against the flagstone. “No matter what you accuse me of, I’ll cry off with privilege of peerage.”
Two uniformed men appeared at the door. Nicholas stood and rubbed his palms on the front of his costume, as if wiping the stink of the man from his body. He turned and walked to Hannah, holding out his hand. She reached up and he pulled her to her feet. Her knees refused to obey, so she leaned against him to gain her balance. In less than a heartbeat, he had scooped her into his arms. He buried his face in her hair.
“I am so sorry, my love, so sorry. He will never hurt you again. No one will ever hurt you again.” He nodded toward the door. “I need to get Miss Pendleton out of his sight and see to any injuries.”
Hannah wrapped her arms around his neck and tucked her head under his chin. Tears soaked her face and neck and her insides quaked like jelly. She could hear the duke’s rants, her stomach twisting as she remembered his touch.
“Do not touch me, you blasted imbeciles. I am a Peer of the Realm! I am above this, I say,” yelled the duke, then coughed and spat more blood.
The men ignored his tirade and jerked him to his feet.
“I’m afraid your privileges do not extend to treason, my lord. I’m sure your father who, as you pointed out, was a loyal subject of the king, would agree. I suggest, if you wish to retain any dignity, you should come with us quietly.”
“Who the bloody hell are you?” he asked, the first tinge of fear coating his words. “I demand to speak to someone with authority.”
“That would be me, Lord Chester Hatford. I am a representative of the Home Office and the Crown. We have been watching you, Your Grace. It seems you have interesting friends who ask you for money.” Lord Chester placed himself in front of the battered duke. “Unfortunately, it’s those investments which seem to have caused the Crown some anxiety.”
“There has been some mistake. You have no proof of wrongdoing.”
“Ah, but we have or I would never presume to put you, the Duke of Colvin, under arrest. I’m afraid your visits to Caro Street have been documented, along with your funding of the Spencean Philanthopists.” He shook his finger at the duke. “Your Grace, consorting with factions who wish to overthrow our government is treason. Shameful, really.”
“I demand—”
“I am sorry, but you are not in a position to demand. Your only hope will be to share names. Names of those plotting to assassinate our cabinet, names of the conspirators who believe it is permissible to overthrow our government. Perhaps the Regent will reduce your hanging to a beheading.” He gave a mirthless chuckle. “I’ve been told it’s much quicker and more humane. And I understand from your friend Lord Darby that you are quite the humanitarian.”
The duke was half-escorted, half-dragged from the storeroom. Blast Hatford, thought Nicholas, he should have let me finish the whoreson. He tightened his grip on Hannah when she moaned softly. As Lord Chester followed them, Lady Roberta’s voice boomed from the hall. “Hannah! Where is my niece?” she demanded, though panic sounded in her voice.
“In here, ma’am. Not to worry, she’s safe,” called Nicholas, then to Hannah, “Sorry, my sweet, I hope that didn’t hurt your head.”
“
No,” she whispered. “Just don’t let me go.”
“Never!” He kissed her forehead. “Let’s get you upstairs and find a doctor. Your skull has quite a lump.”
He said a silent prayer to God, to Lord Chester, and to Walters. It turned out those two men were acquainted. Hatford had contacted the Bow Street runner, looking for some information. The intelligence had led Walters to one of Colvin’s men. The men had sent a message to Darby, and they’d met tonight under cover of the masquerade.
The terror in his chest when he’d realized both Colvin and Hannah were missing had been worse than… Worse than that night five years ago. Nicholas kissed the top of her head again. No, he would never let her go.
“You saved me. He almost, he almost…”
“Shhh, you were so brave, my sweet, so brave.” He tightened his hold on her quivering form. “I don’t think he expected such courage.”
Lady Roberta intercepted the trio at the door. She bumped into Lord Chester and froze, silent for once.
“I beg your pardon, ma’am,” he said and stepped to the side to let her pass.
“Chester!” exclaimed Aunt Bertie. “Merciful heavens, is that you?”
“Bertie?” Hatford asked. “My Bertie from Calcutta?”
“How do you know Lady Roberta?” asked Nicholas.
The older woman squealed, her hands on both cheeks. “Oh, what a surprise. What are you doing here?”
“I’m doing a bit of work for the Home Office. Now, let me look at you.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and smiled. “I was hoping our paths would cross while I was in London, though not under these circumstances. May I call on you tomorrow?”
Lady Roberta and Hatford led the way, chatting as if they’d just run into one another at Hyde Park. Walters met them in the dark upstairs hallway and ushered them out a servants’ entrance to a waiting coach. Nicholas climbed in and settled Hannah on his lap, pulling a wool rug around her.
“The physician will be waiting at your house, my lord.” He doffed his cap in apology. “I didn’t know the lady’s address but figured you’d want her seen to right away. In private.”
“Thank you, Walters, for everything.” Nicholas settled back against the squab. He took a deep breath and relaxed for the first time in hours. “Is that agreeable, Lady Roberta?”
“Of course, of course.” She waved to Hatford before the coach lurched forward. “I want to hear the entire story. Every detail.”
* * *
“She has quite a concussion. Keep her quiet, no physical activity or travel for a week.” The physician snapped his bag shut. “Give her the tea I prescribed to help her sleep, and I’ll leave some laudanum.”
“Thank you for coming so quickly.” Nicholas blew out a long breath. “She’s been unconscious since the ride home. I was afraid she might not wake up.”
“She woke briefly. Lady Roberta will nurse her as well as I could for now, and I’ll stop by daily to check on her.” He paused. “I realize it’s an imposition, but I think it best not to move the young lady.”
“We are happy to have her here,” said Mattie. “She will be disappointed to miss Christmas with her family, though.”
“Good evening, then,” said the doctor. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Mattie laid a hand on Nicholas’s arm. “I sent word to the Pendleton townhouse and instructed the lady’s maid to pack necessities and ride back in our carriage. Tomorrow Lady Roberta can arrange for whatever else they need.”
“How are you holding up, dear sister? This has been quite an evening for all of us.”
She smiled. “Fine, now that Hannah has been found and no fatal injuries incurred.”
“I echo that sentiment.”
“And how do you fare, dear brother? You were white as bleached linen when I saw you carrying her through the kitchens.”
Nicholas ran a hand through his hair. “I admit I was unnerved.” He laughed at her look. “Fine, I was terrified. It made me realize…”
“Yes?”
“How much I care for her.”
Mattie beamed. “Oh, this will be a wonderful Christmas. We are decorating this year, and I don’t care what you or Mama say. Our guests will expect a festive day!”
Nicholas closed his eyes and said another prayer. Let this be the year I put her to rest. I put it all to rest.
Chapter Thirteen
“Though the sex to which I belong is considered weak, you will nevertheless find me a rock that bends to no wind.”
Elizabeth I
December 24, 1819
“What do you mean, I can’t help?” Hannah wagged a finger at her aunt. “I have helped decorate for Christmas every year since I could walk.”
“I’ll compromise. You can sit in the drawing room and help weave the greenery. But you need to rest.” Aunt Bertie smirked. “I will not suffer the wrath of Darby if something happens. He’s like a mother hen, clucking around you, rearranging your pillows, asking for the hundredth time if you’d like some tea.”
“I do believe he wants me to float away on a sea of tea,” Hannah agreed. Her smile was brilliant. “He’s been so attentive. I’m getting quite spoiled.”
“Get used to that,” said Mattie, who entered with an armful of pine. “Lady Roberta, did you have mince pies prepared for the holiday?”
“Of course, dear. Did your mother not have the cook do the same?”
Mattie shook her head. “We haven’t celebrated much since… Do you suppose we might share?”
Hannah’s heart went out to her friend. “Of course, we will be here anyway! And a word of warning, our family is quite traditional.”
Aunt Bertie nodded. “Oh, we’ll play games and eat and drink and make merry. It will be a monstrous good time, you’ll see.”
Hannah was glad to be among friends but still reeling from the masquerade. Her head was tender but she refused the laudanum. She was still in disbelief that the duke was being held for treason. It seemed poetic justice that the family who had been untouchable, that had cheated in cards and almost ruined one family, would now lose everything to the Crown. The thought of Colvin still made her shudder. It astonished her that he’d gone to such an extreme just to taunt Nicholas.
Nicholas, the man who had rescued her, who had hovered over her anxiously for two days, who had said he would never let her go. She vaguely remembered his words, being swept up in his arms, being carried up the stairs. She had felt so safe, surrounded by his strength, and had fallen asleep knowing she was secure in his care. Nicholas had kept vigil by her bed until she had woken. Aunt Bertie said the man couldn’t be persuaded to leave her side. Yet, he’d made no proclamations of love.
“May I be of assistance, ladies?” asked Nicholas from the doorway. “Or should I retreat to the library while I can?”
“Help, please.” Hannah patted the chair next to her. “You can help with the bough I’m making for the door.”
“Mistletoe is involved I hope?” He grinned, an impish smile deepening the cleft in his chin. “The task suddenly got more interesting.”
“You are a rake, sir,” Hannah scolded, “and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
The afternoon passed quickly. The drawing room was soon filled with the smell of pine, and the servants had been given tasks to decorate the dining room, parlor, and staircase. The mince pies had been brought over, and Hannah’s sheet music had arrived that morning.
“So did your family observe any Christmas traditions in the past?” she asked. Nicholas sat next to her, handing her pieces of ivy and mistletoe to lace into the pine boughs. “Mattie seems so excited about this celebration. She’s almost as eager as a child herself.”
The earl watched her fingers deftly weave a vine of ivy and then a clump of berries into the greenery. “Yes, long ago. We burned the Yule log, received gifts on St. Nicholas Day, and I remember my father always giving a special package to my mother on the New Year.”
“It was a happier time.” Hannah paused in he
r work. “I hope tomorrow will be a happier time for both of you.”
“It already is, dear Hannah, it already is.” He handed another bunch of mistletoe. “I’m afraid I am the one who put the damper on this holiday. And my mother. I won’t take all the blame.”
Hannah longed to ask him about his wife, the circumstances, if he would be able to truly move on. But she hated to ruin the day and feared what his answer might be. What if she saw a tenderness in his eyes that he’d never shown to her? It would break her heart. She took the coward’s path and said nothing.
“Where do you get your love for the holidays? Your brother enjoys this time of year but no more than the average person. I can’t see your mother suddenly becoming jovial once a year.”
“Ah, my aunt has kept the traditions going in our family. My paternal grandmother loved Christmas and all it entailed. We would spend the month with her in London, and Aunt Bertie always came. We’d help Cook make mince pies, practice the carols, decorate. All the things we’ll be doing here, you see.”
“I know mother won’t deign us with her presence until tomorrow, but where is Lady Roberta?” asked Nicholas. “It seems so…so quiet without her.”
“You are a cad,” admonished Mattie, entering the room and engaging in the last part of the conversation. “She’s at her townhouse gathering more necessities for their stay here.”
“If I’m to be honest, I’ve grown quite fond of the woman.”
“Well, doesn’t that warm my buns and make my cheeks rosy,” declared Aunt Bertie from the hall. “I have a feeling my niece had something to do with your sudden affection for this old woman.”
Hannah and Mattie giggled at her unusual choice of words. Her aunt was a beaded reticule in a sea of stuffy pockets. A little over the top on occasion, but a more genuine and compassionate soul would be hard to find.
