A Duke Under Her Spell: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Linfield, Emma

  “Live, my love,” Felix whispered into her hair as he kissed the top of her head. “Please, live, for if you do not, I shall surely die from the loss of you,” and with that Felix wrenched himself away, snatched up two pistols from the floor, then leapt down into the tunnel with Lord Alexander close on his heels. “If she dies, so does Bredon,” he ground out as he lit a torch with a spark from a flint. “I will not wait for the hangman’s noose.”

  “He is already a dead man and he does not know it,” Alexander promised, his tone of voice leaving no room for argument.

  The two men started down the tunnel together, moving as quickly as they could in the dark, cramped space. They watched in front of them at all times wary of any traps that the Earl might have set for them, a torch in one hand and a pistol in the other. Felix knew that the servants at the house would have no idea what had transpired and therefore would have no cause to stop the Earl from doing as he wished once he had reached Arkley Hall. Felix prayed that they were not too late to apprehend him.

  They moved in silence, no need to speak to one another past the determined looks on each other’s faces. There would be no mercy shown, no quarter granted. Felix’s heart pounded in his chest. The coppery smell of Marybeth’s blood that had soaked his clothing still filled his nostrils, like a drug fueling his fury. He ran forward his feet pounding the earth with every beat of his racing heart.

  I will avenge you, Marybeth, if it is the last thing I ever do upon this earth.

  They ran for a long time until they reached the end of the tunnel and came to stand under the trapdoor that led into the manor house. Felix pushed up on it, but it did not move. He pushed harder putting his back into it, but it did not budge. Alexander moved forward and did the same both of them pushing together and yet it naught but groan under the pressure.

  “He has locked it somehow,” Felix panted in frustration. He paced back and forth like a caged animal staring at the door, attempting to think of a solution. “I will not turn back when we are this close. There must be a way though.” Felix moved forward running his hands over every surface of the trapdoor in an attempt to find a flaw, some way to break through.

  “Short of blowing it up that door is not going to move,” Alexander growled. “We have no choice but to turn back.”

  “No, I will not…” Felix’s words faded away as an idea dawned. “You said nothing short of blowing it up.”

  “Yes…”

  “So that is exactly what we will do.”

  “And how do you propose we go about performing this miraculous explosion without the proper materials?”

  “Gunpowder and fire.” Felix held up his pistol and torch to punctuate his words. “One of the men was carrying a matchlock instead of a flintlock. I can use the powder in the pan. It is not enough to make an actual explosion, but it might be enough to damage the door.”

  A light dawned in Alexander’s eyes and he smiled wickedly in approval. “Oh, yes,” he nodded his head. “I very much enjoy the way you think.”

  Felix withdrew a handkerchief from his vest pocket and poured the powder from the matchlock onto it. He then twisted the powder up into the cloth and wedged it into the wooden seam of the door. Placing the torch against the fabric, he stepped back and watched it burn. The flash was blinding in the darkness; though not explosive, it did make a bit of noise and sections of the wood fell away.

  Felix peered up through the hole and found that a chair had been wedged up against the trapdoor handle, but the disruption of the gunpowder had caused it to move just enough that they could push the door open. Felix and Alexander gave the door a mighty shove and the chair moved the rest of the way off of the door. The door flung open and they warily climbed up into the dark empty room.

  “He is too big a man to fit into the walls. He must be in the manor house itself. We cannot be too far behind him,” Felix stated. Walking over to the shelf on the wall, he pulled the hidden lever and the wall slid open. Felix pushed the wall out of the way and entered the servants’ stairway.

  “It is a large residence. He could be anywhere,” Alexander retorted, looking about them for any sign that the man they sought had come through. “Where is he?”

  “We must enlist the aid of my household.” In the very next breath Felix’s mind turned to the other precious woman in his life. “Mother,” he whispered. Taking the stairs two at a time he raced for the Dowager Duchess’s bedchamber. Opening the door, he found the Earl standing over the Dowager Duchess with Mrs. Snow attempting to pour a vile of liquid down the Duchess’s throat.

  “We already tried poison and that witch saved her life. It is time to move on to more immediate measures,” the Earl was saying to Mrs. Snow, and pushing her out of the way, he placed a pistol to the Dowager Duchess’s head.

  Felix leapt forward roaring in rage, “No!”

  “Stop, or she dies,” the Earl commanded pulling the Dowager Duchess’s body up to shield his own from possible harm. The Duchess choked and gasped, spitting out the liquid that Mrs. Snow had poured into her mouth. Mrs. Snow grabbed a second pistol from the Earl’s other hand and pointed it at Felix.

  “Mrs. Snow, how could you?” the Dowager Duchess gasped out in little more than a whisper. “I trusted you.”

  The Earl laughed. “Yes, and it very nearly cost you your life. You did very well, my love,” he praised Mrs. Snow.

  “My love?” Felix repeated in confused disgust.

  “Yes, Agatha and I are lovers. We have been for some time now. It was nothing at all to convince her to betray her mistress. Agatha and I have been poisoning your mother all along. If it were not for that awful witch’s efforts to save her, your mother would have died long ago, you would have married Cordelia as your mother’s last dying wish, and Blackleigh Castle would have been mine by now,” the Earl replied. “As it is, none of you will make it out of this alive. I may not have the treasure, but I will take comfort in knowing that I caused you great pain before I kill you.”

  “You harm one single hair on my mother’s head and there will be absolutely nothing stopping me from killing you where you stand,” Felix threatened raising his pistol to be level with the Earl’s head.

  The Earl pressed his cheek against the Dowager Duchess’s tear stained cheek and grinned. “Shoot me and see what happens. You would kill your own mother in an effort to kill me? Now who is the depraved one among us?”

  “I am nothing like you,” Felix hissed, knowing that if he did try to shoot the Earl it would most likely hit his mother instead. It was simply too close to risk it.

  “Quite so. Were it not for you and your efforts at heroism your young witch would not be dead,” the Earl taunted. “At least not yet. I would have killed her eventually,” he sneered gleefully.

  “Marybeth is dead?” the Dowager Duchess sobbed out in question.

  “Nay, she is not, Mother. The Earl speaks lies with his every breath.”

  “If she is alive, she will not be so for long. There is no possibility that she would have survived a gunshot wound of that magnitude.” Nodding to Mrs. Snow, the Earl urged her to take action. “Kill him, Agatha. Kill him and I will take you with me. We will live happily together upon my estate.”

  “Oh, Bernard,” Mrs. Snow’s eyes glowed with the fervor of a young lass in the first throws of love, though she was far from being such. She steadied the pistol and squeezed the trigger. A shot rang out, bouncing off of the walls of the Dowager Duchess’s bedchamber. Felix waited for the pain, but it never came. Mrs. Snow’s eyes flew open in surprise and then went glassy. Her knees buckled out from beneath her as a crimson rose bloomed across her chest.

  Chapter 33

  Mrs. Snow dropped to the floor, dead on impact. Felix caught the flash of metal in the lamplight as Alexander stepped forward into the room, his pistol smoking ever so slightly from having been recently fired.

  “Agatha!” the Earl shouted as he watched her die before his very eyes. “You!” the Earl accused swinging his pistol up at
Felix in anger. “You killed her!” He let the Dowager Duchess fall back to the bed in his grief.

  It was opportunity that Felix had been waiting for. He raised his pistol and fired. The Earl’s stunned expression would have been comical had it not been so horrific. Felix rushed forward taking the opportunity to get the upper hand over his enemy. “You shot me,” the Earl accused as he slumped down against the wall. Blood bloomed across his white shirt stemming from his shoulder.

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Why didn’t you kill me?”

  “Because I am not you, Bredon. I do not kill people if I have any other choice. You will face the magistrate for what you have done, and you will hang for your crimes.”

  “I am a peer of the realm. They would not dare to hang a man such as I,” the Earl protested. “Not over a mere witch.”

  “You should never have tried to kill the favorite cousin of the King,” Felix retorted shaking his head as if he pitied the poor man for his stupidity. “You will hang as surely as I am standing here.” Turning to Alexander he nodded his approval and the young lord stepped forward and pulled the Earl to his feet.

  “We are going to have little chat, you and I, concerning the whereabouts of my father,” Alexander growled. He shoved the barrel of his pistol into the bullet wound in the Earl’s shoulder as if to offer a preview of what was to come.

  “You may use the library if you wish,” Felix offered. “Hot pokers might offer an irresistible method of persuasion.”

  “Indeed,” Alexander agreed and left the room, hauling the Earl along in front of him at gunpoint.

  Felix sat down on the edge of the bed and took his mother in his arms. Mrs. Taylor, the head housekeeper, appeared in the doorway taking in the situation. “Mrs. Snow!” she exclaimed in shock moving forward to kneel beside the deceased lady’s maid. “I heard gunfire, Your Grace, and came running. What has happened?”

  “I do not have time to explain, Mrs. Taylor. The Dowager Duchess has ingested poison and is in great need of our help.”

  “What of Miss Wright? Should I not go and fetch her?”

  “Miss Wright has been shot and is in no fit state to be caring for anyone. There is a doctor on the way, but he will not arrive here in time to save my mother if we do not act fast. Felix began issuing orders attempting to remember everything that Marybeth had taught him about medicine. “Charcoal! I need crushed charcoal! Oh, what did she say was good for poisons?” He racked his brain attempting to remember the plants she had said would aid in a time such this.

  “I am no healer, Your Grace, but I do know a fair bit about poisons and such from my mother,” Mrs. Taylor offered sweeping coals from the fireplace and grinding them up into a pan. “What you need is some neem, burdock, red clover, and ground ivy. I believe Cook has some of those things in the kitchen.” She handed him the ground charcoal and a glass of water. “I will go and get them.”

  Felix poured the charcoal and water mixture down his mother’s throat and moments later she was vomiting profusely. He performed this over and over until nothing remained to expel but the charcoal itself. Mrs. Taylor returned with a tea made of the plants she had spoken of and they forced copious amounts of the tea into the Dowager Duchess’s stomach. Eventually, his mother lost consciousness, her body unable to take the strain.

  The sound of horses’ hooves pounding the earth heralded Marybeth’s arrival. “Stay with Mother,” he ordered Mrs. Taylor. “I expect her to be alive when I return,” he warned, then he ran from the room and out of the front door. The horse pulled up with Mr. Wheatly on its back, Oliver on the top seat, and Marybeth unconscious in the chair below. Marybeth’s brother, Ewan, leapt from the back of his horse and helped Felix to lift Marybeth out of the contraption and into the house.

  They carried Marybeth into the first room they came to, which happened to be the library where Alexander was questioning the wounded Earl who he had tied to a chair. Felix and Ewan laid Marybeth down upon the chaise lounge. Mr. Wheatly immediately went below stairs to gather the supplies they would need to cleanse her wound and stop the bleeding. Seeing the state of his sister, Alexander hit the Earl on the back of the head with the butt of his pistol, rendering him unconscious.

  “Did you ascertain your father’s whereabouts?” Felix asked as he continued to apply pressure to Marybeth’s wound.

  “I have an idea. We will find him, and he will pay for what he has done,” Alexander answered, coming to sit beside his sister. “The Earl is the magistrate’s problem now.”

  Oliver stepped forward and took Marybeth’s hand, rubbing it. “Wake up,” he beckoned her. “Please wake up.”

  “It might be best if she does not awaken until we get the bullet out, lad. It is going to be immeasurably painful,” Alexander warned as he removed Marybeth’s shoes and stockings. “I will try to make her as comfortable as I can, but it is going to hurt no matter what precautions we take.” Turning to Felix he added, “We are going to need to cut this dress off of her. I will understand if you wish to leave the room.”

  “No, I am staying,” Felix argued shaking his head.

  “Good man,” Alexander answered clapping Felix on the shoulder. With a nod from Alexander, Ewan moved around to the other side of her body. They each pulled a knife from their boot and began cutting away her dress, one man on each end. It was clear that Marybeth’s brothers had done all of this before, or at the very least something similar in nature to it. Felix continued to apply pressure to the wound, refusing to move.

  The brothers pulled back the rent portions of her dress, they revealed thin linen undergarments soaked through with her blood. The crimson stain blocked any indecent view they might have had to her person. When Mr. Wheatly returned with the necessary supplies, Felix removed his jacket and lifted the stained underclothing from the wound. The bullet had lodged in her lower torso near her hip.

  Alexander surveyed the tray of hot water and clean bandages, shaking his head. “This is not enough,” he informed the butler, and grabbed a bottle of brandy from the desk. Returning to Marybeth’s side he poured it into the wound. Marybeth moaned and stirred from the pain of it. Alexander poured more brandy over the wound and then cleaned his knife with the same.

  He looked up at Felix and Ewan. “Hold her down,” he instructed, then turning his gaze to Oliver, he told him to go and sit down before he passed out onto the library floor.

  Each man did as he was asked. Felix slid in behind Marybeth on the chaise lounge and wrapped his arms around her chest, holding her hands in his. Ewan laid his body across her legs. Nodding, Alexander took a deep breath then slid the knife into the bullet wound. Marybeth’s eyes flew open and she screamed a terrible blood curdling scream of sheer and utter agony. She bucked against the pain trying to get free, but Felix refused to let her go.

  Alexander continued to dig around for the bullet until he found it. The metal fragment popped out of her body with a sickening sucking sound that turned the stomach and yet in the same measure was received with great relief. Alexander washed the wound with more brandy, then used the hot water and bandages to clean and dress the wound. “That should help until the doctor arrives,” he announced, cleaning the blood from his hands. Marybeth had passed out once more from the pain.

  “You have done this before,” Felix noted aloud as he studied Alexander’s face.

  “Yes, we have. We are not our father, Your Grace, but we are not naïve to the rougher ways of the world,” Alexander answered, meeting Felix’s eye.

  “And glad of it I am,” Felix answered, offering his hand in friendship and gratitude to both brothers. “Thank you.”

  “She is not out of danger yet. Such wounds are susceptible to sepsis. She will have a long time of healing to get through,” Alexander warned, suddenly looking very tired.

  The sound of more horses fell upon their ears and Ewan arose to look out of the window. “’Tis the men we took captive for the magistrate.”

  “Lock them up in the stables until the mag
istrate arrives,” Felix instructed. He was not willing to leave Marybeth’s side and held her close, laying his cheek against the side of her head in hopes of offering some comfort. Ewan nodded and went out to inform his brothers.

  They did not have to wait very long before Thomas returned with both the magistrate and a physician. Marybeth’s brothers acted as makeshift constables and aided the magistrate in getting the men back to town. Alexander and Thomas were the only ones who remained behind. The doctor inspected Marybeth’s wound and did his best to treat it. “It appears that you gentlemen have saved this young lady’s life. That is, if she does not develop the fever. She will need to be kept a close eye on.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Felix replied in relief. “Would you mind looking in on my mother?” Felix explained what had happened and the precautions he had taken.