When a Duke Loves a Governess

by Olivia Drake

  He set down the candle, moved aside the painting on one wall, and used his key to open the safe. Reaching past a casket of jewels and several bundles of cash, he picked up the map that had been torn from one of his notebooks. After tucking it into an inner pocket of his coat, he removed a large leather case, which he brought over to the desk to open.

  Against the blue satin lining gleamed a pair of perfectly matched dueling pistols with mother-of-pearl inlaid stocks. He took one of the guns, along with a sack of shot, and began to efficiently load it.

  As he’d expected, Banfield had followed him into the study and now hovered at his side. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but I glanced at the note. It instructed you not to bring a weapon.”

  “This villain won’t escape justice.” Guy aimed a narrow-eyed glance at the secretary. “I’ll take great pleasure in putting a period to his existence.”

  “At least allow me to accompany you, then. You daren’t go alone with your arm still in a sling.”

  “Jiggs will come with me.”

  Banfield frowned. “Your Grace, you may not know but I am a skilled marksman. Your grandfather insisted upon it, as he sometimes required me to join a hunting party at Greyfriars.”

  “Now that you mention it, I do seem to recall that. I daresay he was glad of the company since his three sons were indifferent hunters.”

  There was a certain tightness to Banfield’s lips as he nodded. “I pray you will agree to me taking one of the pistols. I shall remain hidden from sight. Haviland need never know I’m there.”

  Guy considered all the ramifications of his plan. He had a strong intuition that tonight would finally bring an end to this wretched mystery. Matters would likely turn deadly, though, and with Tessa’s life at stake, he didn’t wish to appear careless enough to deny the need for backup.

  He handed Banfield the pistol. “Call for the carriage, then. Haviland lives only two blocks away, but Miss James may require assistance in returning here. Go on, don’t dally.”

  The moment Banfield scurried out of the study, Guy swiftly loaded the other pistol. He had purposefully not revealed his entire strategy to the secretary. After tucking the weapon in his waistband, he sprinted upstairs to his bedchamber to put the last piece of his hasty plan into place.

  * * *

  A full moon cast an eerie glow over the narrow garden behind the Earl of Haviland’s residence. It was sufficient to allow Guy to make his way from the gate without stumbling into the rosebushes on either side of the path. He could hear the pad of Banfield’s quiet footsteps behind him.

  When Guy had called on Haviland earlier in the day, the butler had reported that the master was expected to return from his country estate by evening. Now the rear of the brick town house was dark except for one window on the first floor, where a sliver of candlelight escaped the closed curtains. The library, Guy recalled.

  Haviland was here. The stage was set. The action was imminent.

  “Where the devil is the coal cellar?” he muttered.

  “Near the service entry to the kitchen, I should guess,” Banfield whispered. “There’s a path along the left wall. See?”

  “No, I don’t see. You had better go first.”

  Guy stepped aside. Banfield hesitated before taking the lead, creeping toward the corner of the house. Their movements disturbed the low mist so that it swirled like frolicking ghosts over the shrubbery. But the chill Guy felt had little to do with the dank night air.

  Where was Tessa? Pray God she was tied up in the coal cellar. As uncomfortable and frightened as she must be, that was the safest spot for her. If there was any shooting to be done, he intended for it to happen right out here in the garden.

  His thumb on the hammer of the pistol, he followed Banfield around the corner. The residence was located at the end of a row of town houses, which allowed for a side entry for deliveries. The secretary proceeded to the second door nearest the street.

  Unerringly, Guy noted.

  He needed no further confirmation that his suspicions were correct. Banfield had planned all this. He’d fired that shot at Astley’s, and when it had failed, he’d set up this elaborate scheme. No doubt he intended for Haviland to take the blame for murdering the Duke of Carlin and his governess. Guy could even make a fair guess as to the motive behind the killings.

  Banfield stepped aside, waving his hand at the door. “There is a key in the lock. Lord Haviland must have left it for you.”

  “Don’t just stand there. Open it.”

  “As you wish.”

  The instant the secretary turned toward the door, Guy quietly drew out his pistol. He would come up from behind and take him captive. Then he’d force a confession out of the weasel.

  But before he could advance even a step, a black form flew out of the bushes. It landed on the pathway in between them. A long silver claw flashed in the moonlight as the snarling creature pounced on Banfield.

  The man spun around, defensively raising his arm. Too late. The beast struck flesh, wresting an inhuman howl from Banfield. With lightning-quick reflexes, the secretary seized the squirming entity, and the claw clattered onto the ground.

  Guy stared. A pair of scissors?

  Just then, the struggling figures moved into the moonlight. The ethereal glow revealed a dainty face smudged with black. The sight was a hard punch to his gut.

  Tessa!

  “Let me go,” she cried out, straining against Banfield’s grip.

  A cauldron of rage erupted in Guy. His fingers clenched around the stock of his pistol. Only a thread of rationality enabled him to keep a hold on himself. Banfield would stop at nothing, and Guy dared not risk harming Tessa.

  Besides, he still had an ace up his sleeve. Two aces, in fact.

  “You heard the lady,” he snapped. “Release her. This is between you and me.”

  He brought out his pistol and cocked the hammer.

  So did Banfield.

  The man jammed the barrel of the matching pistol into the side of her neck. “Lay down your weapon, Carlin,” he grated in a voice quite unlike his customary coolness. “Else I’ll shoot her dead.”

  Chapter 21

  Tessa ceased struggling at the feel of that cold round circle pressed against her skin. One bump of Banfield’s hand could end her life in an explosive flash. Since the mere touch of his body against her back was repulsive, it took all her willpower to hold herself still. For an older man, he possessed a wiry strength, and she hoped Guy would not underestimate him.

  But at least she had hurt Banfield. The tip of the scissors had ripped through his sleeve and sunk into his flesh. She could feel the warm blood dripping from his forearm down onto the front of her gown.

  The duke stood like a granite statue in the shadows. Though she could not read his expression, the sight of him made her ache with love and despair. She couldn’t see any way out of this standoff, at least not for herself.

  Yet she had no regrets for having attacked Banfield. She had caught him off balance and upended his diabolical scheme. He would no longer have the advantage over Guy in a physical fight.

  “Shoot him, Carlin!”

  “And lose you? Don’t be absurd, my dear.”

  To her anguish, he eased back the hammer and leaned down to place the pistol on the ground, shoving it beneath the bushes. Then he straightened again, his hands open, palms up. “There, Banfield. I’m all yours. Now let her go.”

  “How touching,” Banfield mocked. “The Duke of Carlin trading his life for a mongrel.”

  “The only mongrel I see is you,” Guy said coolly. “I’m guessing you’re my grandfather’s bastard. Quite probably his eldest. Once I hit upon that theory, all the deaths in my family began to make perfect sense. You’ve been eaten up by envy of us.”

  “Shut up,” Banfield hissed, his breath hot as a demon’s against her ear. “I would have made a much more dignified duke than you, your father, or any of your uncles.”

  “Oh, much better, I’m sure. I never wan
ted the title, anyway.” Guy paused, his pose still one of surrender. “But you won’t wish to murder me out here in the garden. The noise of the gunshot would wake all the neighbors. Not to mention it would bring Haviland running.”

  During this exchange, Tessa could feel tension quivering in Banfield. Now that his scheme had been revealed, he no longer exuded a cold superiority. It was Guy who radiated control despite the dire situation, and she could only pray he had devised some plan of his own. Yet she could not see how it was helping matters to goad a madman. He would get himself shot!

  Unless that was his plan. To save her by sacrificing himself. Dear God, he must not do it. For Sophy’s sake if nothing else.

  Banfield jerked his head toward the door. “Enough chatter. Get into the coal cellar, Carlin. If you value the wench’s life, don’t try anything foolish.”

  “I’ll cooperate. But only so long as you promise not to hurt her.”

  The secretary uttered a vicious laugh. “You aren’t in charge here, Duke. I’ve had enough of your orders these past few weeks.”

  Tessa felt herself drawn backward a few steps by Banfield to allow space for Guy to reach the door. The cold steel never wavered from the side of her neck. The thought of him walking into a death trap caused her throat to constrict. “Don’t, Guy. Don’t go down there. He intends to kill you.”

  “I know.”

  As he turned to look at her, his hand on the doorknob, the moonlight revealed a calm passivity on his face, a fatalistic acceptance of his doom. It was an expression she’d once read described in a gothic novel about a nobleman riding in a tumbrel to the guillotine during the French Revolution.

  Guy must believe the situation impossible to escape. She had been mistaken to think him confident. Rather, he was resigned to his fate. Their fate because she would not elude death, either. She felt her own courage ebbing, and only with effort did she bolster her spirits. No! If he wouldn’t fight back, then she would have to save them both somehow.

  Even as she watched for her chance, a flash of movement jarred her. Guy spun around and seized her, yanking her against him. In the same instant, she felt Banfield’s finger jerk on the trigger.

  A scream of pure terror tore from her lips. She braced herself for a pain that never came. Instead, the world tilted crazily. She was falling … falling with Guy’s arms wrapped tightly around her.

  As they hit the ground, his body shielded her from the impact. She realized in a daze that she hadn’t been shot. Guy, however, uttered a strangled groan and fell still.

  Had the bullet struck him? Was he dead?

  She pushed up on one hand to frantically examine him in the shadows. Running her fingers over him, she found no blood. Only then did it occur to her that she’d never heard an explosion of gunpowder.

  A snarl of rage yanked her attention to Banfield. He loomed against the night sky like an avenging devil. She stared in frozen horror as he pointed the pistol at them. There was no time to move, nowhere to escape. Yet as he pulled the trigger again, it clicked ineffectually.

  His teeth bared in a curse, he hurled the gun aside and dug in his pocket as if seeking another weapon. Then the oddest thing happened.

  He clapped his hand to his neck and staggered sideways. He stood for a moment, swaying like a tree buffeted by a gust of wind. Much to Tessa’s astonishment, he crumpled into a motionless heap in a bed of roses. Not even the thorns could rouse him.

  A bandy-legged leprechaun stepped out of the gloom by the back gate. As he came scurrying forward, she gave a choked gasp of relief and leaped to her feet. “Jiggs!”

  “Is ye hurt, milady?”

  “Not at all. But I fear Guy has been shot.”

  “Nonsense.”

  The deep, disembodied voice came from near her feet. She caught her breath for a second time to see the duke slowly sitting up. Quickly, she bent down to grasp his good arm and assist him when she would have much rather showered him with kisses. “Guy! Are you all right? Did you jar your wound when you fell?”

  He got to his feet and dusted off his clothes. “I merely had the air knocked out of me. Neither of us was in danger of being shot.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Banfield was using one of my dueling pistols. When I received the forged note with a lock of your hair, he insisted on accompanying me as protection against Haviland. Though he was standing right beside me in my study when I primed the gun, he never even noticed that I’d palmed the bullet. His arrogant belief in his own cleverness was his undoing.”

  “You knew it was him?”

  “I realized it only today,” he said grimly, “after coming up empty with every other suspect. It was then that I started considering who else had been in my family’s orbit for the past five or more years. And I took a hard look at Banfield. It was merely a theory, one I’d hoped to discuss it with you, Tessa. But when you weren’t in the nursery and I went looking for you, Banfield approached me with the note, insisting that I read it. It was then that I knew for certain.”

  She shivered. “He must have been reaching for another gun in his pocket when he fell…” A thought distracted her. “Why did he fall?”

  “’Twas me knife,” Jiggs said, kneeling beside Banfield’s unmoving form to search him. “Blimey, ’e ’as two more pistols.”

  “Jiggs was the other ace up my sleeve,” Guy said. To the valet, he said, “You took your sweet time throwing that blade.”

  “’Twas milady bein’ in the way. Ye scared the bejesus out o’ me, missy, when ye bust out of them bushes!”

  “I’ll second that,” Guy said on a rueful laugh. “I thought her a hell-born beast. And just when I was about to nab Banfield and force him to confess at gunpoint.”

  Tessa was glad the darkness hid her blush. The black dust disguised her better than she’d imagined. Every inch of her must be covered, for she’d had to climb a mountain of coal in order to wriggle through the chute, escape the cellar, and position herself near the door. Just in time, too, for a moment later the gate had creaked open and they’d entered the garden.

  Though as it had turned out, Guy hadn’t needed her help. He’d already deduced the truth and had a plan of his own.

  Just then, the back door opened, and a tall man slipped stealthily out of the house. As he peered in their direction, his fingers were clenched into fists as if he anticipated trouble.

  “Come join the party, Will,” the duke called out. “Unfortunately, you’ve missed all the fun.”

  Haviland vanished inside and emerged a moment later with a glass-chimneyed lamp. As he came down the pathway, it was clear from his dressing gown of mulberry silk that he’d settled in for the night. “I heard a scream. What the deuce is going on here?” He glanced at the three of them, then lifted the lantern to illuminate Banfield’s fallen form. “Damme, isn’t that your secretary, Guy?”

  “Regrettably, he’s also the Carlin Killer. For rest of her life, my Aunt Delia will be telling everyone about her role as oracle in the infamous tale.”

  Haviland regarded him with a trace of ironic amusement. “It seems I did miss all the fun. And in my own backyard, no less.”

  “Be thankful he didn’t succeed in his scheme, or the Runners would be clapping you in irons to hang for murder. It’s a long story.”

  “I’m all ears,” said the earl.

  Guy gave a concise summary of the events, and Tessa contributed what she’d learned from Banfield’s gloating confession while she was tied up in the coal cellar. “He stole Guy’s diaries, milord, and hid them in your library in order to incriminate you.”

  The earl regarded her in slight puzzlement, as if he was trying to figure out how the governess had become involved and why she was on a first-name basis with her employer. But he merely commented, “I wonder how he managed to creep into my house. And to filch the key to my coal cellar, too.”

  Tessa shrugged, unwilling to betray the fact that one of his maidservants had fed information to Banfield, as he’d told
Tessa in the cellar. She didn’t want the hapless girl to be tossed out on the street for the naïve mistake of being conned by a villain.

  Haviland glanced again at Banfield’s still form, under guard by Jiggs. “Well, Carlin, unless you want more vulgar news articles about your family like the one I was just reading upstairs, I would suggest removing this fellow from my property.”

  “I’m thinking he was set upon by footpads,” Guy said. “But not in Mayfair. Too upsetting to the neighbors.”

  “And messy,” the earl agreed. “But it can’t be too far away if he merely went out for a walk. Piccadilly, perhaps? Covent Garden?”

  “That’s too respectable,” Tessa said tersely, the memory of her ordeal in the coal cellar still fresh in her mind. “He can have gone to a bawdy house. I can show you the location of several in Seven Dials.”

  That earned her another stare from Haviland and a chuckle from Guy.

  He took hold of her hand, his gaze scanning her in the lamplight. “Thank you, my dear, but you’ve had enough adventure for one night. You’re going back to Carlin House for a bath. Jiggs will escort you in the carriage.”

  His dismissal made her more aware than ever that she didn’t know how to behave like a proper lady. Here she was, covered in soot like a climbing boy, and babbling about houses of ill repute. Though Guy was polite enough not to show it, he must certainly find her an embarrassment in front of his friend. It was disheartening to realize just how much she craved his love and esteem.

  While he went to tell Jiggs, she shivered, chilled by the night air and her dismal thoughts. She turned her attention to Lord Haviland, in particular to his pale blond hair, somewhat tousled in the lamplight.

  Now was hardly the best time to speak, but with her future so uncertain, this might be her only opportunity. “I must tell you something, milord. But you may think it to be very odd.”