An Inconvenient Duke

by Anna Harrington

  “Your wife! She knows. When she finds out that I’ve been murdered, she’ll tell the authorities everything.”

  “No, she won’t. You’ve overestimated my little wife’s spine. So easy to control her… All I have to do is threaten to take our daughter away from her, and she won’t whisper one word.”

  Oh, Beatrice was so much stronger than he gave her credit for! Dani had come to witness that with her own eyes. Her rescue of the girl tonight proved it.

  She shook her head. “And Marcus—he’ll come after you,” she warned in a desperate rasp, “and he won’t stop until you’re dead. If you kill me, he won’t wait to have you tried before he kills you himself.”

  “Not if I kill him first.” He tilted the knife back and forth, letting the lamplight reflect menacingly off the blade. “A man so driven out of his mind by finding the body of his beloved, her throat slit open from ear to ear, that no one will think his death anything but a suicide. A pistol shot to his head.”

  A sickening pain flashed through her, and she remained on her feet only through sheer will. “No one will believe that! Not from a man like Marcus.” Not from a man whose adult life was baptized in the fires and blood of war. Standing her ground as he advanced again, she raked a disdainful glance over him and shook her head in disappointment. “Such a little man compared to someone like Marcus,” she drawled with open disgust. “You can never begin to measure up to his greatness.”

  A growl of rage tore from his throat, and he lunged. Dani screamed—

  The warehouse walls burst in around them as the shuttered windows and closed doors smashed open with an earsplitting shattering of wood and glass. Half a dozen men rushed inside, all of them with guns drawn and lanterns blazing, flooding the room with light and the jarring metallic sound of cocking pistols.

  Hartsham grabbed Dani by the waist and yanked her back against him, raising the knife to her neck. The blade pressed into her throat, and she gasped with fear.

  “Stay back, or I’ll kill her!”

  The men halted immediately in their steps, surrounding them on all sides. From the corner of her eye, Dani could see Mrs. Slater and the man in black who held her at knifepoint, then Brandon Pearce, who stood wide-legged with a gun in each hand pointed directly at Hartsham, and to his right—

  “Marcus!” Her cry was silenced by the pressure of the knife biting into her throat and making her wince.

  His expression coolly inscrutable, Marcus slowly raised his pistol and pointed it at Hartsham. Not one stray emotion crossed his face; not one tremble of uncertainty was visible anywhere in him. Steeliness glinted like ice in his eyes. He stared down the length of his arm to sight the barrel at Hartsham’s head, every inch of him revealing the battle-tested general he was.

  “Let her go,” he ordered, his voice impossibly calm.

  “No!” Hartsham held her close as he turned in a circle, his gaze darting around the warehouse to hunt desperately for a way to escape but finding none. “Get back, all of you! Or I will slit her throat right now!”

  A man at the side of the room signaled to the men, who all took a step backward. Only Marcus remained where he was, standing as immovable as iron.

  “Hurt her,” Marcus warned in the same chillingly controlled voice, “and you’re dead where you stand.”

  “I’m already dead!” Hartsham gave an unnatural laugh and yanked her roughly against him. “But I can make certain she dies, too.”

  With a fierce cry, Dani kicked her foot into Hartsham’s knee. The blow threw him off balance, but the upward arc of the knife blade couldn’t be stopped and clipped her neck. As the blade sliced her skin, she screamed and dropped the lamp. It smashed onto the stone floor at their feet in a burst of glass and flame.

  Hartsham cursed and jumped back from the flames. Dani lunged out of his arms and fell onto her hands and knees, gasping for air as her hand flew to her throat.

  Marcus dove over her, his shoulder lowered and slamming into Hartsham with the strength of a bull, sending him flying and then landing on the floor with a violent thud. A flurry of punches and kicks as the two men grappled—

  Then Marcus shifted his weight back onto his left leg and kicked a swinging hard blow with his right. His heel caught the earl square in the chest, sending him crumpling to the floor. He pounced on top of Hartsham, throwing such hard punches that a groan of exertion came with every fist he plowed into Hartsham’s face and abdomen. Each blow landed with a sickeningly dull thud that had the earl lying nearly lifeless on the stones, yet still the punches came from Marcus in great, ferocious swings.

  A new fear shivered through her as she watched him—Marcus was going to beat the man to death.

  She scrambled to her feet and ran to him, heedless of the blood that dripped from her neck or the flames that singed at her hem and ignoring Pearce as he rushed forward to stop her. She would not lose him to the darkness, not now that she’d finally found her way into his heart.

  “Don’t!” She grabbed his right shoulder to stop the punches, only for him to continue to strike with his left. “Please stop!”

  Hartsham lay nearly unconscious beneath Marcus, his bloodied mouth moaning in pain and both eyes already swelling shut. Yet still Marcus punched mercilessly at him with all the strength he possessed, putting his full weight behind every blow.

  “Marcus, stop!”

  She crawled in front of him, wedging herself between him and Hartsham until he was compelled to stop and sit back on his heels. She grabbed at his hand and cried out at the sight of his knuckles, all bruised and bloodied.

  When he tried to wrestle his hand away from her, to move her out of his way so he could continue to beat the man to death, she pressed herself into his arms and placed her palm against his face. She whispered, blinking hard to clear away her tears, “I won’t let you kill him.”

  “The bastard deserves it,” he growled, glancing past her to Hartsham as the earl writhed on the floor in an agonized attempt to crawl away.

  “He deserves to hang even more.” She brought his attention back to her by touching her lips to his. “Don’t cheat Elise out of the justice she deserves by killing him here in the darkness. Let all his crimes be brought to light and dealt with in the open…no more shadows, no more secrets.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek against his to whisper in his ear, “You’re a soldier, Marcus, not a murderer.” A tear slipped down her face as she admitted, “And I love you for it.”

  His arms lifted loosely to her back. Then his embrace slowly tightened until he held her pressed against him, dragging in a deep and ragged breath as he nuzzled his mouth into her hair. Their hearts pounded in unison as they held each other, even as the other men came forward to grab Hartsham by the arms, yank him to his feet, and drag him to the side of the room.

  “It’s over,” she murmured, clinging fiercely to him. All the grief and fear inside her lifted, and now there was only the sensation of Marcus’s arms around her, his strength and love seeping into her and filling her up to her soul. “It’s finally all over.”

  * * *

  “And now?” Marcus asked sotto voce as he stood shoulder to shoulder with Clayton, who had arrived at the warehouse only a few moments ago and been quickly informed of what had occurred.

  The two men surveyed the current state of the warehouse and the people within it. His men were awaiting orders, the same men who had followed Dani from her town house. Thanks to warnings by Marcus when they’d first been assigned to guard her, they knew to anticipate her carriage changes and doubling back of streets and hadn’t lost sight of her when she and Mrs. Slater had made their way to the warehouse. Yet all that subterfuge had delayed her just enough that he, Pearce, and Merritt had arrived at the warehouse only moments behind.

  Merritt still guarded Mrs. Slater, although he was only waiting for a signal from Clayton to put her into a carriage and t
ake her to Newgate for safe keeping. There was much less certainty regarding what would happen to Hartsham, who currently sat on the floor, closely watched over by two of the men and waiting for Clayton to decide what to do about him next. Newgate wasn’t an option. The man was still a peer, even if he couldn’t plead privilege to avoid being tried for murder. But Marcus wanted to make certain the bastard wouldn’t have another chance to harm Danielle or the rest of his family.

  Now wrapped in his coat to keep her warm and cover the blood that had splattered on her dress, she stood on the far side of the warehouse, closely guarded by Pearce. A bandage marred her slender neck. Her uneasy gaze kept drifting back to Marcus, but he could offer her no more consolation until he finished confirming with Clayton what would happen next. Then he planned to scoop her into his arms, carry her home, and make love to her until the color returned to her face, the shaking stopped, and she once again felt safe.

  “He’ll be taken back to his town house and guarded while the property is searched. Then he’ll be placed under house arrest, his every move watched,” Clayton answered.

  “When will he be officially charged?”

  “That’s a more difficult matter.”

  Dread swept through Marcus like an icy wind. “You think he won’t be arrested?”

  “He’s a peer with accomplices. That makes all of this much more complicated.” Clayton tugged at his gloves, his only outward sign of frustration. “It was Mrs. Slater who hired the men to break into your home and shoot at you at Vauxhall. She’ll be the one arrested and tried for that, not him. As for the blackmail itself, if he’s found guilty in the Lords, he can plead privilege to escape punishment.” He paused as if afraid what he was about to say would cause Marcus to pummel the man a second time. “Even for his attack here on Miss Williams, since all would be considered first offenses.”

  “I’m beginning to like the aristocracy less and less,” Marcus muttered.

  Clayton slid him a sideways glance. “Yes, Your Grace.”

  Marcus’s mouth twisted in vexation, but he ignored that bit of bait. “Regardless, he can’t claim privilege in cases of murder, and he murdered Elise. He admitted it to Danielle.”

  “And that’s the problem.”

  “How so?”

  Clayton lowered his eyes to the scorched floor. “Whose murder do we arrest him for?”

  “My sister’s.”

  “Only if you’re willing to destroy Miss Williams.”

  Marcus wheeled on him. “What do you mean?”

  “Thanks to the woman at Pearce’s town house, we have enough information to link Hartsham to John Porter’s murder. He’ll surely be found guilty for that. I suspect that half the men in Westminster are clients of Venus’s Folly and willing to do whatever it takes to keep their proclivities hidden. Including sending him to the gallows to keep him silent.” He lifted his eyes to stare somberly across the room at Danielle. “But your sister’s murder is a different matter.”

  Marcus locked gazes with her as she stared back at the two men, careful not to let any stray emotions show on his face.

  “We can only prove that he murdered Elise if you’re willing to share with the world what happened here tonight, why Miss Williams left her home late at night to come to an abandoned warehouse in the Strand in pursuit of a young prostitute.” He looked away from Danielle and added, “What she’s been doing for the past four years and why nearly one hundred women have gone missing because of her.”

  His heart skipped. “You know about Nightingale?”

  “There are few things that happen on English soil that the Home Office is unaware of.” Clayton turned his back to the room as he explained, “There are wealthy and powerful men who would gladly see her life be destroyed in retribution for what she’s done. I know you want justice, General, but you cannot link Hartsham to what Elise was doing with those prostitutes without also connecting your sister to Miss Williams. Everything she’s done will come out, every last secret. Her life will be destroyed, along with her father’s diplomatic career and whatever standing her aunt possesses at court and in society.” He paused. “And the Braddocks by association, especially if you marry her. Claudia’s marriage, Pippa’s future…destroyed right along with her, just as soon as it all becomes public. Not even your reputation as one of England’s greatest heroes will be able to mitigate that.”

  Across the room, Danielle frowned at the intensity with which Marcus continued to stare at her. His gut twisted, each breath now coming pained and labored. Despite the lamps that continued to light up the warehouse, he felt the darkness start to creep inside.

  “We also don’t know Hartsham’s exact connection to Scepter or their endgame. Exposing his connection to your sister would destroy any chance we have of finding out.” Clayton’s gaze flicked darkly to Hartsham. “I don’t think the earl is going to share information about them, even under interrogation.”

  Across the room, Merritt signaled to Clayton that he was ready to escort Mrs. Slater to prison. He nodded and watched only long enough to see Merritt take the woman’s arm to lead her from the building before folding his hands behind his back, his stance wide. The same posture Clayton had always assumed in the army when he was awaiting orders.

  “The choice is yours on how to proceed,” Clayton said quietly but with unquestioning resolve. “I’ll do whatever you ask of me, General. So will every man here.”

  Danielle bit her lip in concern. Waving off Pearce’s attempt to keep her in place, she started across the warehouse toward him.

  The decision clawed at his heart, more fiercely with every step she took toward him…Elise or Danielle. Justice for his murdered sister or protection for the woman he loved. The same woman who had filled the emptiness in his soul and gave him purpose, who even now chased away the darkness that pushed in around him and threatened to suffocate him with what Clayton had revealed.

  She loved him and trusted him. He would never betray her.

  “There is no choice,” he answered firmly. Then he stepped forward to greet her.

  Just as her hands slid warmly into his, he saw Hartsham rise to his feet on the other side of the warehouse. He lunged at the nearby guard and wrestled the pistol out of the man’s hand. He placed the muzzle at his temple.

  “For Scepter!” he yelled, then pulled the trigger.

  Twenty-Seven

  One Month Later

  “If we keep very quiet and stay right here,” Marcus murmured into Dani’s hair as she snuggled against him on the settee in the library at Charlton Place, stealing a precious few moments to themselves, “maybe no one will notice for the rest of the evening that we’re missing.”

  She laughed and tilted back her head to smile up at him. “And flee from our own engagement dinner? I don’t think our families would like that very much.”

  “Our family,” he corrected. “One family now. And they’re going to have many opportunities for after-dinner conversations with us over the years. Tonight, I want you to myself a bit longer.”

  Hmm. She wasn’t sure that her aunt and Claudia would agree with his logic, and certainly not poor Mr. Trousdale, who was currently alone with the two women. They were undoubtedly terrifying him with ongoing wedding plans that seemed to become more exotic and extravagant with each passing day. The last Dani had heard, Claudia was considering the theme of a Venetian masquerade in Hyde Park, complete with gondola rides on the Serpentine.

  Dani’s engagement dinner tonight was the complete opposite and very purposefully so. Given how overwhelming and perilous her life had been lately, she preferred a calm evening at home in which she and Marcus could finally—and formally—announce their engagement to their loved ones. Of course they wouldn’t marry until after Claudia, and then in a small ceremony with only close friends and family in attendance. Despite Marcus’s attempts to convince her to let him secure a special license so they cou
ld be married within the week, Dani stood firm. Claudia deserved this special time when she was the center of attention, and Dani didn’t want to take one bit of that away from her.

  He took her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “Besides, it’s nice to have a private moment with you after dinner.”

  Thank God for that. This was the first time they’d had dinner together since that terrible night all those weeks ago, when Claudia had surprised the intruder in Elise’s room. So much had happened since then that Dani could barely fathom it all. Her fingers tightened in his. She couldn’t have gotten through these past few weeks without Marcus’s strength to support her.

  Although she still suffered nightmares over the last glimpse she’d had of him, Hartsham was dead and buried, his darkest secrets right along with him. Any attempt for more justice for his victims had been forced to stop. Under English law, neither a dead man nor his estate could be pursued for his crimes, and no one among the King’s Counsel or on the Committee for Privileges saw a need to interfere with the earldom being passed to a younger brother and to Beatrice and her daughter inheriting the non-entailed properties, as set out in his will. When Brandon Pearce sent word of the government’s decision, Marcus surprised her by accepting it without argument, his fight ending. He’d never told her why he’d let go of pursuing public justice for Elise, why he’d decided to allow everyone to continue to believe that she’d died from a fall from her horse.