An Inconvenient Duke

by Anna Harrington

  “A word, please.” Dani put her hand on the woman’s arm.

  “In a moment, Danielle.” With a distracted smile, Beatrice patted Dani’s hand. “The noise, you see. Why, it’s too loud to even hold a polite conversation!”

  “I need to speak to you about Elise Braddock Donnelly.” Dani leaned in to keep from being overheard and affected a smile for the others, as if she were doing nothing more than giving suggestions for noise control. “And the night she was killed.”

  Beatrice froze, except for a telling widening of her eyes for a single beat of surprise.

  Dani took her arm and pulled her to the side of the box, away from eavesdropping guests. Anyone who saw them speaking privately would assume they were making plans for the rest of the evening or arguing about the fireworks and band.

  “Did you see Elise immediately before she died?” Dani pressed, determined to find answers for Marcus’s sake. She owed him this for her role in Elise’s death. Oh, she owed him so much more! “Did you speak to her in the days leading up to her death or send any messages to her?”

  “I—I can’t remember.”

  Yet even in the dim lamplight, Dani saw the blood drain from her face.

  Beatrice laughed stiltedly. “I cannot even remember what we had last night for dinner, let alone what happened all those years ago.”

  Not all those years ago. “Less than two.” Anger rose inside her that Beatrice gave what happened to Elise so little thought or consideration now. “Surely you’d remember if you’d spoken to her or met with her, given what happened.”

  “Elise died, and it was a terrible loss, someone that young…with a baby, no less.” She took the mask that Dani still carried in her hand and fussed with the ribbons, her fingertips plucking at the sequins edging the satin mask. “But I can’t remember if I saw her or not. We were always running into each other, here or there, around Mayfair.” She pulled off one of the sequins and frowned regretfully at what she’d done. “What does any of that matter now?”

  “Because Elise was murdered.”

  Beatrice’s gaze flew up to Dani’s. Her fingers stilled against the satin mask.

  “I think she started her own network to help women in need.” Dani forced the words past the tightening knot of grief in her throat and glanced away just in time to see the door to the box open as Marcus returned. “I think she crossed the wrong people and put herself in danger, that someone killed her for it. But no one knows who she was with that night, where she was going, who she was attempting to help…”

  When she looked back at Beatrice, an icy chill sank through her. There was no surprise on the woman’s face. Only guilt.

  “But you know, don’t you?” she whispered, unable to hear her own voice over the coursing of blood in her ears and the music flooding the box. “You know what happened to her.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You were part of it.” Her hand tightly gripped Beatrice’s arm so the woman couldn’t walk away. “Elise called on you, asked you to be part of her secret… She brought you into her new network when Nightingale didn’t need you anymore.”

  Beatrice turned deathly pale, the stricken expression on her face made more intense by the flickering wicks of the lamps. Her hands began to shake so badly that she couldn’t grasp the sequins beneath her fingertips. “Yes,” she admitted.

  Betrayal pulsed through Dani at what Beatrice and Elise had done, that they’d both gone behind her back and were keeping such secrets from her.

  Beatrice’s eyes glistened. “But she didn’t want you to know. She was afraid that you’d try to stop her.”

  Dani nodded stiffly. She would have done exactly that. But there was no time now for grief, no time to give in to the hurt of being deceived by her dearest friend and the countess, someone her family had always trusted. Now she had to focus on uncovering as many answers as possible for Marcus. “And the women she was helping?”

  “They were the ones you’d turned down for Nightingale.”

  Guilt stabbed her, so fiercely that she winced. “The prostitutes?”

  Beatrice gave a jerking nod. “I’d heard about girls from the Manchester mills who had been drugged and brought to London, to be forced into the brothels in Southwark. I told Elise about them, how frustrated I was that Nightingale wouldn’t help them—I wanted to save them and send them back to their families.” Her voice was low and raw, desperate, and pleading for understanding. “I had no idea that Elise would try to rescue them herself, or I never would have told her about them. I promise you that, Danielle. Never.”

  “I know,” she answered, believing her. Beatrice McTavish had never been one for acts of bravery.

  “When I learned what she was doing, I tried to convince her to stop, but…”

  Her stomach roiled, and she pressed her hand against her abdomen to fight down the sickening hollow forming in her belly. “But?”

  “But there were more women waiting in the brothel who—” Beatrice glanced across the box, freezing in place as if she’d seen a ghost.

  Dani turned to look.

  William McTavish, Earl of Hartsham. Her husband. He stood in the corner, surrounded closely by several of the gentlemen as they finished off the last of the port.

  As Beatrice stared at him, her expression hardened so suddenly that Dani’s breath strangled in her throat. She glanced between the two, not understanding why Beatrice should suddenly grow so afraid. No…so bitterly angry. Because the earl hadn’t looked their way, hadn’t paid them any attention as he went on talking and laughing with the men—

  “Do not ask me about this again, Danielle. What happened to Elise was horrible,” Beatrice rasped out. She turned away, crumpling the mask in her fist. Then she took one more glance over her shoulder at her husband and warned, “Make certain the same doesn’t happen to you.”

  That cool threat slithered down Dani’s spine, chilling her to her soul. She knew the truth then. She knew…

  She looked across the box and met Marcus’s gaze, too stunned to hide the shock that surely radiated from her.

  As he returned her stare, his face turned to stone.

  Boom! The first of the fireworks exploded over the gardens in a burst of light and a shower of sparks. Cheers flew up from the crowds. Boom boom! The explosions shot off like artillery fire and lit up the night in shimmering waves to the loud oohs and aahs from the spectators.

  Inside the box, the guests scurried for the best views. The women hurried toward the door, while many of the men vaulted the railing into the alley, hooting and cheering as they went, bottles of champagne clenched securely in their hands.

  Keeping her gaze locked with Marcus’s, Dani pushed her way through the crowd to his side. He took her arm and led her from the box, careful to keep her from being jostled and bumped in the stampede to watch the fireworks.

  “You have answers,” he murmured as he steered her toward the shadows of the rear stairs behind the box and away from the crowd. “Tell me.”

  She grabbed his arm and stopped him, her fingers digging into his sleeve. “It’s Hartsham,” she choked out. “He killed Elise… Marcus, it was him!”

  He stiffened, but disbelief flickered in his eyes as he narrowed them on her. “Her husband? She told you that?”

  “Not exactly.” She fisted the kerseymere in her hands, desperate to hang onto him as an anchor in the storm engulfing her. “But it’s him! What she said, how she said it—”

  The board behind her head splintered with a deafening bang.

  “Get down!” Marcus grabbed her and shoved both of them to the ground as a second bullet tore into the building right behind where she’d been standing. “They’re shooting at us!”

  She lifted her head to glance around in panic. The world swirled in a cacophony of noise and movement all around them, and she saw nothing but a blur of lights and flashes
of fireworks. The sounds of the gunshots were drowned out by the booms of the fireworks and the noise of the band. No one in the crowd heard or saw—

  He let out a curse and grabbed her wrist. “Run—now!”

  Scrambling to his feet, he pulled her up with him and ran, keeping her between himself and the gallery to shield her. She struggled to race beside him to keep up with his long strides. When they reached the end of the building and lost what little protection it provided, he pulled her in the direction of the main gates, and they wove their way against the coming crowd as it pushed toward the Grand Walk.

  She turned to glance over her shoulder—

  Her wrist slipped out of his grasp, and she tripped. She fell forward. Her hands slammed against the compacted dirt and gravel. She felt the rip of her flesh as a piece of glass sliced into her palm, and a pained cry rose from her throat.

  But then Marcus was beside her, picking her up in his arms and running with her through the crowds.

  Her arms tightened around his neck, and she clung to him, burying her face against his neck as he carried her through the gates. All of her went numb with fear and fresh grief, but her hold on him never eased, not even when he placed her inside his carriage and slammed the door closed.

  “Drive!” He pounded against the side of the compartment with his fist. “To the armory—go!”

  When the coach jerked to a start, he pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her. He grabbed his great coat from the opposite bench and placed it over her shoulders to keep her warm, then cradled her close.

  She shook against him, unable to stop the shudders wracking her body, unable to ease the clenching of her arms around his neck. Fear and betrayal overwhelmed her, and she could do nothing more than cling to him.

  “It’s all right. You’re safe now.” He lowered his mouth against her hair and assured her, “It’s all over.”

  She squeezed shut her eyes. Oh, he was so very wrong! The worst was only beginning.

  When they finally came to a stop, the city around them was dark and unfamiliar. Marcus helped her to the ground, her hand secure in his.

  Ordering the driver to go home to Charlton Place, he grabbed a carriage lantern from one of the tigers, then pulled her toward a metal door in the outer brick wall surrounding the armory. It clanged so loudly when he shut it behind them that she startled, but he didn’t stop, pulling her across the small courtyard to the armory building itself and then inside its thick walls, where the darkness was so intense that she couldn’t see beyond the small circle of lantern light.

  Silence, darkness…safety.

  Letting go of his hand, she staggered forward a few feet, then collapsed onto her knees on the stone floor.

  “Danielle!”

  He knelt beside her and pulled her into his arms. He held her tightly against him as the sobs finally tore from her.

  “You’re safe.” His hands stroked her back, but she couldn’t stop the emotions that poured from her. “They didn’t follow us. They can’t get inside—”

  “No.” Her fingertips dug into his shoulders as she clung to him, desperate for an anchor as the world tumbled away beneath her. “No…”

  “Are you hurt?” He released his hold on her to cup her face in his hands.

  So much concern gripped his face that she squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t bear it! Her chest felt like a gaping wound had been ripped into her, and every inch of her body flashed between punishing pain and blessed numbness.

  “Beatrice, the earl…” she choked out in a rasp. Then the name that sliced through her like a knife—“Elise.”

  Marcus rocked her in his arms. “We know now—we have answers.” His whisper emerged as a solemn promise. “It’s going to be all right. We’ll have justice for her after all.”

  Dani vehemently shook her head. Oh, he didn’t understand! The lies, the betrayal—so brutal that she shook from it.

  She tried to push him away, but he refused to loosen his hold around her, even as they continued to sit there in the silence, surrounded by darkness so thick that she couldn’t see the room around them. Only darkness, coldness, hardness…betrayal.

  “They lied! All of them… They lied to me, nothing but lies and deception…” Dear God, she felt like such a fool! “And I trusted them, all of them, with so much…with so many secrets…with my life…” With my heart.

  A sob caught in her throat as another tear that she couldn’t stop fell down her cheek.

  “You didn’t know.” He soothed his hands down her back. “You can’t blame yourself.”

  She shook her head and pulled back just far enough to look into his face. Her hands tangled desperately in his waistcoat, and she could feel the pounding of his pulse beneath her fingers. So strong and certain… Dear God, she wished she could have that same surety and strength! She wanted to find a way to crawl beneath his skin, claim it, and never let go.

  “I trusted them.” Especially Elise. A woman whom she’d thought had been closer to her than a real sister—ashes! The pain of mistrust was blinding. All she’d risked during these past few years, all she’d worked so hard to accomplish, had only led to lies and betrayal. “How do I ever trust again?” She clenched and released her fists against his chest in frustration. “How can I ever believe in anyone again?”

  “Believe in me.” He touched his lips to hers, and the bittersweetness of that kiss ached on her lips. “You can believe in me, Danielle.”

  A ragged sigh tore from her, and she wilted against him.

  He rested his forehead against hers, and his warm breath fanned over her skin as he reached up to caress her cheek. “You can trust in me, Danielle,” he murmured huskily. “Now and always.”

  Her heart swelled at the promise in his words, at the comfort he was offering. She’d thought they were working together to find justice for Elise, but what was blossoming between them was so much more than that. So intense that it swirled around her in a growing warmth, tingling at her toes and fingertips.

  She trembled at the enormity of what he was offering her. To be able to place herself in this man’s care, without fear of harm—

  “Yes,” she whispered, then tilted her face up to bring her lips to his.

  Seventeen

  Marcus groaned at her whisper of permission. Unable to resist, he seized her mouth with his and turned the touch of their lips into a blistering kiss, one that throbbed fiercely with how much he wanted her.

  Dear God, the way she twisted his insides! Never had he ached for a woman as much as he did Danielle, and not just physically—every bit of him wanted nothing more than to heal the wounds she’d suffered, to make her happy, to keep her beside him, safe in his arms.

  But when her hand began to play with the buttons on his waistcoat, the longing to keep her safe transformed into a new desire, and liquid fire spread through his veins.

  “Danielle.” Her name was a plea to let him claim more, and she obliged, parting her lips and letting his tongue plunge inside.

  When she responded by closing her lips around him and sucking with an unschooled instinct, a hot shiver raced through him, all the way down to the tip of his hardening cock. His restraint snapped. He lowered her onto her back on the stone floor and followed down after her, covering her body with his. His mouth never broke contact with hers until she tore her lips away to gasp back the air he’d stolen.

  “I want…” she whispered, her hands shaking so hard that they fumbled to unfasten the buttons of his waistcoat. But she couldn’t finish putting to words the desire he felt blossoming inside her.

  “I know.” He reached up to run his fingers through her tresses until her hair lay around her on the stone like puddled silk. “I will keep you safe here. I promise you that.”

  But she shook her head. Her hands on his shoulders stilled him as he lowered his head to place openmouthed kisses acro
ss the top swells of her breasts exposed above the neckline of her dress that had sagged down in their flight from Vauxhall.

  “No, I want—I mean…I need…” Frustration filled her voice as it trailed off.

  He rose up onto all fours over her as she lay under him in the flickering shadows at the edge of the lantern light, and he lost all sense of time and place at the sight of her, the world around them falling away until there was only Danielle. Not from how beautiful she was—and she was beautiful, with her hair all wild around her, her lips flushed from his kisses, her eyes gleaming in the shadows. But from how she’d captured his soul the way no other woman ever had. The way no other woman ever would.

  He brushed his hand along the side of her body in a soothing caress. “You need what, darling?” He dipped his head to tease his lips reassuringly over hers. “Tell me. Whatever it is, you’ll have it.”

  She placed her hand on his chest and curled her fingers possessively into his muscles. Her quiet admission shivered into him as she whispered, “I want you, Marcus.”

  “I want you, too.” Sweet Lucifer, how much he wanted! All of her, tonight, tomorrow—and every day and night after that.

  She cupped his face between her hands to bring him down to her.

  He kissed her deeply, drawing a whimper from her lips that turned into a sigh of satisfaction when he trailed his mouth down her neck and nipped at the tender flesh of her throat. Her pulse beat out a fierce tattoo beneath his lips, then nearly exploded when he cupped her breast in his palm. For a moment, he wondered if she would change her mind, if she would come to her senses about what they were about to do and shove him away—

  But she arched into his hand and deepened the kiss, parting her lips and allowing him to ravish her mouth the way he wanted to ravish her body. He could taste the nervousness in her but not an ounce of uncertainty.

  Marcus wrapped his arms around her and rolled them over, bringing her up on top of him, straddled across his hips as he lay on his back beneath her. She stared down at him, her mouth forming a round O of surprise.