How to Capture a Duke

by Tina Gabrielle

  Months ago, the thought would have filled him with dread and fear. Oh, he felt fear, but a different type. A panic he’d never experienced gripped him for her safety—and for their babe’s safety.

  “She knows how you feel about fathering a child,” Lady Vere said. “She planned to tell you, but I suspect your argument prevented her from doing so.”

  He couldn’t blame her. He’d treated her horribly. Thinking back, he’d known Olivia and her sister could not have been responsible. Someone else had been the anonymous source. He realized the comic didn’t bother him at all now. Not when Olivia was missing. Nothing mattered but Olivia.

  Lady Vere set down her glass, and her expression grew grave. “The more I think of it, the more I worry. My sister would never leave town without telling me. I suspect foul play.” Her blue eyes captured his.

  Dread seeped into his veins. “My God.”

  “Who has to gain by Olivia’s absence?” she asked.

  The question hovered in his mind. He couldn’t think; his fear for her was paralyzing.

  She grasped his arm, her firm grip. “Who?”

  A name pierced his subconscious and took hold along with a clawing dread. “Spencer, Lord Jeffries, my cousin.”

  “Why him?”

  “He’s known that I never intended to have children. He stands to inherit the dukedom.”

  “Do you think Olivia told him about the baby?”

  He scrubbed a hand down his face. “It’s possible.” Olivia had once said that Spencer was easy to speak with, unlike him. The two had spent time together gambling and gossiping, first at Keswick Hall then at the Raven Club. It was Spencer who had told Olivia about his decision not to father children. Spencer who had befriended her.

  “The Raven Club has files on all the aristocrats that gain membership,” Lady Vere said. “Lord Jeffries has a fondness for gambling but not at the Raven. He prefers the gambling halls on Bennett Street in Pall Mall. One in particular is the Dandy House. Jeffries owes over five thousand pounds to that particular hell.”

  Tristan looked at her in surprise. “It doesn’t make sense. He’s successfully invested in shipping and has a warehouse at the docks.”

  “He came to my attention when he failed to pay his last debt to the Raven. I never mentioned it because I didn’t think it mattered to Olivia. Until now.”

  If Spencer had concealed his debts, then what else had he lied about? Tristan knew all about secrets and how they could eat away at a man. Spencer’s charming nature could hide a dark side, one he never knew about.

  Tristan’s worried gaze met Lady Vere’s. He needn’t explain more. She understood. Without an heir, his cousin would get everything, his title and his wealth. Only one person stood in his way.

  Or two, if he knew of the baby.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Olivia knew she was running out of time. If she was to save herself and her baby, then she better think of a plan. And quickly.

  Spencer pressed a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Stay and be a good girl, Olivia. I’ll be back with a friend.” He shut the door, and the ominous sound of a key in the lock made her jump. He was in search of a hired criminal. The door was locked, and there were no windows to scream out of for help.

  She set to work. The bindings were coarse and irritated the tender skin of her wrists. Ignoring the pain, she ran her fingers along the wooden crate, hoping to fray the rope on the coarse wood. Desperation fueled her fear, and she cringed when the rope snagged on a loose nail. Frantic, she began to rub her bindings against the nail. Soon, her shoulders ached and her wrists were bleeding. She bit her lip to keep from crying out in pain but continued with her efforts.

  She was working feverishly when footsteps sounded on the floorboards outside the door. The scrape of the key in the lock sounded next, then the door swung open and Spencer loomed in the doorway.

  “It won’t be long now, Olivia,” he said. His fair hair gleamed from the lantern light he held high in his hand, and his eyes shone a feral blue. He turned and left her alone to pace just outside the room. She could hear him mutter beneath his breath that everything was her fault—that if she hadn’t tricked his cousin into marriage and into his bed, none of this would have been necessary.

  She didn’t bother to plead with him. It wouldn’t have mattered. He was desperate, and a desperate man was dangerous. He was waiting for his hired criminal to come help him carry her to the riverbank and dump her into the dark, murky depths of the water.

  She thought of Tristan, of everything she’d left behind. She wondered what he’d think when her body was found.

  No, she couldn’t give up hope. She must fight for her baby’s life.

  With renewed effort, she feverishly worked her bindings against the nail. Sweat beaded on her brow and between her breasts. Several times she slipped, gashing her hands, but she persisted. Her fingers were numb with cold and lack of circulation, and her shoulders screamed with the effort. Her hands were slippery with fresh blood, but her efforts were finally rewarded when the rope began to fray.

  “Jeffries?” A strange voice reached her from the bowels of the warehouse, and she knew her time was running out. Her stomach churned in dread.

  Spencer’s hired criminal had arrived to kill her.

  Chapter Thirty

  Tristan felt like a caged beast inside the carriage. He was desperate to find Olivia and bring her home safely. He clenched his fists, and his knee jostled against the side of the padded carriage. Both of his brothers-in-law, Ian and Hugh, sat across from him on the bench. It was ominously quiet as the well-sprung carriage jostled over rough paving.

  “We’ll find her,” Hugh said. “If not, Ellie will never let me back home.”

  If the marquess meant to ease his fear, it did not work. Still, Tristan nodded. “We must.”

  “My sister is stubborn and a fighter,” Ian said. “After we come to her aid, I have a mind to let her have her way with Jeffries.”

  The earl was also doing his best to help. As a man who’d never had a brother, Tristan was grateful for their presence tonight. Olivia came from a loving family, something he’d lacked and he’d come to highly value. Other than Antonia, he’d never known such loyalty, and he was grateful he had married into his wife’s brood.

  The carriage turned, and the pungent smell of fish and seawater wafted through the carriage windows. Ships’ masts appeared through a thick fog. At last, the London docks came into view. Tristan leaped from the carriage before the wheels could come to a complete stop. The other two men followed.

  “Which warehouse does Jefferies own?” Ian said.

  “He never specified. Let’s split up and search for one with light or activity,” Tristan said.

  Spencer’s warehouse was the one place Tristan believed he would take Olivia. It was dark, isolated, and rarely patrolled at night.

  Urgency clawed at Tristan’s innards. He had to find her. His thoughts were tormented as he ran from warehouse to warehouse, looking for any sign that one was occupied. He’d been wrong, so wrong. His unwillingness to trust was his weakness, and his flaw had kept him isolated and alone his entire life. Years of suffered slights over his stuttering had filled his life with frustration and guilt. He’d learned never to trust, to see the bad in people and believe they would not change. Then Olivia had walked into his Rosehill stables, asked to ride Atlas, and his life had never been the same.

  The truth struck him like a blow to the gut.

  He loved her.

  He loved her for her fierce loyalty and her unwillingness to give up on him. She was the light to his darkness, and even though he’d never asked for her help, she’d cared enough to bring Higgins into his home and convince him to work with the man and give the treatment a chance.

  He’d been a fool to think he could keep himself from her—that spending time with her but not making love to her would be enough. It would never be enough. He wanted to start a family with her. He knew she was nothing like his cold and di
sapproving mother. Olivia would never give up on their child, just as she had not given up on him.

  He loved her.

  And he might lose the chance to tell her.

  And their child.

  He ran like he’d never run before in his life.

  …

  Olivia’s bindings unraveled bit by bit. The men were just outside her door.

  She worked furiously now, rubbing the strands of the rope that remained until the entirety of it gave way. She kept her hands behind her just as Spencer and his hired man halted by the doorway.

  “Is she the doxy?”

  Olivia tried not to cringe at the first sight of the criminal. Tall and cadaverously thin, he had a pockmarked face, full beard, and greasy hair. But it was the dark depths of his gaze that made her seize with fear.

  “She is,” Spencer said.

  A corner of the man’s lips turned up to reveal brown, crooked teeth. “Can I ’ave me way with ’er first?”

  “No.” Spencer’s voice was hard. “Do as you’re told, Robby, or there will be no gold in it for you.”

  Robby. The criminal’s name was Robby.

  She tried not to cringe beneath that evil, black-eyed stare. It took all her effort not to spring off the crate and run out of the warehouse like a mad woman. She’d never make it past both of them without a weapon. She had to bide her time and flee when she had the best opportunity for escape.

  The two men stepped out of the room again, but she could hear them discussing about how best to dispose of her body. How much did Spencer promise to murder a woman? Bile rose up her throat, but she forced herself to breathe. She had a slight advantage. Her wrists and hands were free. She wiped the blood on her skirts.

  She scanned the warehouse floor for something she could use as a weapon. A broken crate with straw stuffing spilling out was pressed against the wall. Grasping a piece of wood with a jagged end, she crept on hands and knees to peek around the corner. If she had any chance of making it to the large doors of the warehouse, she’d have to sneak past them. But how? She didn’t think she could make a run for it. Her only hope was to make use of the dim lighting to creep along, hiding behind crates, and then sprint for the front doors.

  Heart pounding so loudly in her chest she feared they could hear, she made her way toward a stack of crates.

  “The body must not be found for at least two days,” Spencer insisted. “I want them searching for her elsewhere.”

  “How do ye expect me to do that?”

  “I don’t care how you do it. I’m paying you good coin to see to the details. Weight her body down if you have to.”

  Oh God. So far, they hadn’t noticed her. If she could just make it to the next stack of crates… She moved forward, then her skirt snagged on one of the jagged ends and the top crate shifted then crashed to the floor. The noise was as loud as a trumpet blast in her ears, and she froze.

  “Shit! She’s escaping!” Spencer cried out.

  She sprang to her feet and sprinted toward the door. Heavy footfalls sounded behind her. She didn’t dare glance back, and her heart hammered in her chest as she ran.

  The light was dim, and she jabbed her hip against the corner of a crate and stumbled. Pain shot down her leg. She ignored it, recovered herself, and kept running. Spencer had left a low-burning lamp by the front door, and she ran for it with all her speed.

  Close. She was so close when a hand grasped her by her hair and cruelly yanked. Her head snapped back. She screamed and fell to her knees.

  “Bitch! You’ll not escape. I was paid good gold to see you dead.”

  Robby.

  Her eyes teared from the pain. Her hands searched the floor wildly for something to use and landed on one of the open crates. Reaching in the straw, she withdrew a metal object and reached back to strike the man full in the face with all her might.

  He howled in pain and released his merciless grip on her hair. Stumbling forward on hands and knees, she rose to her feet and continued her mad dash for the front doors. Robby’s heavy breathing let her know he was hot on her heels, and she feared she wouldn’t make it. A terrified scream built in her lungs, just as a dark figure emerged from the doorway and, with a guttural bellow, struck Robby in the face. The criminal crashed against a pile of crates and remained down.

  Shouts sounded. Male voices. Then a firm hand reached for her.

  “Olivia!” Tristan’s voice. “Are you all right?”

  Strong arms engulfed her, and she breathed in the comforting scent of her husband.

  She held onto him tightly and nodded. “Yes, but Spencer is still inside.”

  “Don’t worry about him, love. He won’t get away.”

  Seconds later, Ian and Hugh tore into the warehouse.

  “Olivia!” Ian looked down at her with fearful concern. “Thank God! Take her to safety,” Ian said to Tristan. “We will handle Jeffries and his man.”

  Tristan swept Olivia off her feet and carried her outside to his waiting carriage. He took off his coat and wrapped it around her and cradled her on his lap. “You’re wet and freezing. Are you certain you are not injured anywhere else?”

  “I’m fine now.”

  His dark gaze traveled down her form, and he frowned when he noticed her bloodied wrists. “You escaped your bindings. My smart and resourceful duchess. My heart stopped when I learned you were in danger. If anything h…h-appened to you, I’d never survive it.”

  “Spencer was responsible for the gossip rag.”

  “I promise that Spencer will never harm you again. He will be sent away to the Continent. Please forgive me for blaming you and your sister. It doesn’t matter to me if the world knows. Maybe it will help others like me to seek out Higgins for treatment. Nothing matters but you.”

  “Tristan, I feared the worst,” she said.

  “That he would kill you?” His voice shook, and he held her tightly.

  She shook her head. “No, that he would return to kill you. Spencer was in debt, and he needed to be your heir. But to have what he needed, you would have to die.”

  “You worried about me?” he asked, his expression incredulous as he held her. “Tonight has made everything clear. I love you, Olivia. I’ve loved you for some time now, but my stubbornness prevented me from acknowledging it.” He brushed his lips tenderly against hers.

  Her heart leaped with joy, and she reveled in the sweetness of his lips. Winding her arms around his neck, she looked into his eyes. She wanted to confess her own feelings but held back until he knew the full truth. “There’s something you should know, something I feared I’d never get the chance to tell you. I’m with child.”

  She held her breath, not knowing how he would react. Would he be happy or displeased?

  His mouth curved in a wide smile. “I know, love. Ellie told me. God has blessed us.”

  “You are not upset? Not worried he or she may…may speak like you?”

  He cradled her face in his hands. “No longer. With you at my side, our child will have all the help she needs. I know this now.”

  “You hope for a girl?”

  “A beautiful girl with golden hair and green eyes.”

  Unable to hold back, she buried her face in his neck. “I love you, Tristan.”

  He gently lifted her chin and looked in her eyes. “Say it again. Please.”

  “I love you. I’ve loved you since you took me riding at Rosehill.”

  His embrace tightened. “I love and adore you, Olivia. My grandmother was right. I’ve been a fool not to recognize how fortunate I’ve been. I now count myself to be the luckiest man on earth.”

  “You have been stubborn,” she teased. “I feared you’d never completely trust anyone.”

  “I do. I trust and love you. As soon as you recover, I promise to take you riding at Rosehill.”

  “Like our first time?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  He shook his head and nuzzled her ear. “This time, you shall ride Atlas.”r />
  Epilogue

  “Papa, what will Mother say?”

  “Ah, leave her to me, Georgiana.” Tristan looked down at his six-year-old daughter. She was beautiful, with golden hair and bright green eyes that gleamed like jewels when she was excited, just like he’d hoped before she was born. She was growing to look more and more like her mother each day.

  A tiny puppy squirmed in her arms and licked her face.

  Georgiana giggled. “She’s kissing me.”

  “Can I hold her?” Rory asked.

  Dark curls framed his son’s face. He smiled, showing missing two front teeth. Olivia had often said their four-year-old son was going to grow to be a charmer, just like his father.

  Tristan took the puppy from his daughter and handed it to his son.

  “Mama has to agree to keep her,” Georgiana said. “She has to!”

  “Stay here and think of what you want to name her while I talk to your—”

  But young Rory wasn’t as disciplined. He ran into the house ahead of his father. “Mama, look! Papa brought home a puppy!”

  Tristan moved quickly to follow his son inside and was just in time to see Olivia stand from her chair. A scrap of fluff bounded over and launched itself at her skirts.

  Rory jumped up and down with excitement. “Can we keep him, Mama? Father said Socrates was lonely.”

  Tristan glanced at the sleeping hound in the corner of the room then at the puppy at his wife’s feet. The puppy’s tail wagged, and he ran around the room then stopped to sniff the older dog. Socrates yawned and looked entirely unimpressed.

  Tristian met his wife’s eyes across the room.

  She ruffled the curls on Rory’s head. “Your father said we could keep the puppy?”

  “Yes. Can we? Please!”

  Olivia folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot. “Another puppy, Your Grace? Aren’t two children and one dog enough? You want to add another?”

  The puppy bounded to the door, and Rory followed. Giggling sounded all the way down the hall as both Rory and Georgiana chased after the puppy.

  Tristan approached to sweep her into his arms and tenderly brush her lips with his. “I cannot have enough family.”