Margaret’s heart began to beat again, he was still alive. There was a chance. “I need to see him,” she said as she pushed between Stephan and the butler. “What room is he in?”
“My Lady,” Stephan said as he shook his head.
“I’ll find him myself,” she said as she began to race up the stairs. The house was huge, there must be a dozen different rooms. No, maybe two dozen.”
“The back right,” Stephan called out from below. She shot him a quick thank you smile then lifted her hem to race to the door. She didn’t think, didn’t consider the right and wrongs of what she was doing. Instead, she entered without knocking.
Two men stood beside the bed blocking her view. An obvious doctor putting things away in his bag. And the Duke of Bedford of all people. The concerned look on his face told her that this was obviously one of Ian’s friends.
“Is he?”
“Is he what?” a voice called from the bed.
Margaret gasped as she rushed to him. He was alive, awake even, his head wrapped in white bandages. His skin looked pasty. His eyes were rather glassy as he stared up at her with a strange expression.
“Oh, Ian,” she said as she gently placed a hand on his shoulder. More to ensure he was truly there. Truly alive.
He smiled weakly. “You shouldn’t have come Meg.”
She blanched for a moment then took a deep calming breath and turned to the Doctor. “Will he recover?”
The Doctor nodded. “Yes, I believe so.”
The Duke of Bedford laughed. “The man’s head always was harder than stone.”
“Meg …” Ian began.
She turned on him and frowned down at him. “No. Don’t you dare Meg me. How dare you do this. My father said you purposely fired into the ground. You shouldn’t have been there in the first place. I never believed you could be so stupid.”
“Meg …”
“No, Ian. I won’t have it.” Emphasizing the point by placing her hands on her hips and staring down at him.
“Um,” the Duke of Bedford said with a smile. “I will leave you Suffolk. It appears you are in good hands”
Margaret studied Ian as he leaned around her to address his friend. “Thank you, Brock. And you will do as I asked?”
The Duke of Bedford grunted then said, “Yes, of course. Although. If you don’t fix this before Jack returns. Evens is going to find himself resting at the bottom of the Thames.”
“No,” Ian exclaimed. “Neither of you are to become involved. Do you understand.”
Bedford sighed heavily, then nodded before turning to Margaret and bowing. A strange look crossed behind his eyes, as if he wished to say more, but he held his tongue and gave his friend one last look before he turned and ushered the doctor out of the room.
Margaret watched them leave, then sighed as she turned back to Ian. He smiled up at her as she took his hand in hers. “I love you,” she said to him. “I will always love you.”
“And I you,” he said with a deep sigh. “But …”
“What? Lord Evens?” she said with a shrug of her shoulders.
“Your Betrothed. We mustn’t forget that fact.”
Margaret sighed as she pulled the blanket up. “We will discuss it later. Now, you need to rest.”
“Meg …”
“No, we will discuss it later. I promise.”
Ian sighed as he slumped back into his pillow. She could see the pain and worry on his brow. Her heart turned over with both fear and joy. He lived.
For the first time she was able to accept that simple fact. Her prayers had been answered. The sudden realization of that truth made her insides curl up in fear. She must keep her promise. Ian’s life in exchange for her marrying Lord Evens and being a loyal wife. A promise that could not be ignored.
A sadness filled her. She had regained her love only to realize she would lose him once again.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ian woke to the sound of Meg snoring. He smiled as he looked at her. God she was so beautiful. She sat in a hardbacked chair next to his bed, her chin resting on her chest, her hair coming undone. With each breath she let out a soft, ladylike snort. It made him laugh. Oh, how he loved this woman.
Sighing, he pushed the blankets back and swung his legs out of the bed.
Meg startled as she came awake, her frown turning from confusion to anger. “Ian, what are you doing?” she asked before she realized he had found her sleeping. Immediately, her hand went to her mouth to ensure she hadn’t drooled.
He laughed. “I am getting up,” he answered as if it had been a ridiculous question.
“What? No.”
Taking a deep breath, he stood. The world wobbled and became gray around the edges. But slowly the dizziness faded.
“What can I do?” she asked as she jumped up to put an arm around him.
He smiled down at her. “Find Stephan and my valet Prescot.”
“Ian, you can’t,” she said with obvious concern.
“Meg,” he said with a sigh. “I realize you love me almost as much as I love you. But you need to learn. Telling me not to do something doesn’t usually work.”
She frowned at him until she let out an exasperated sigh and turned to do as he asked. He forced himself to walk across the room just to make sure he could. Once that minor miracle had been accomplished, he was able to start to focus on his next actions.
A soft knock at the door let him know that his request had been answered. Both Stephan and Prescot entered. Prescot with a concerned frown. Stephan with a bundle of letters. His secretary watched him closely, obviously worried that he might still have to train a new Duke.
“My best suit,” he told his valet. “No hat necessary,” he added. His valet stared at him, obviously doubting the wisdom of his employer’s actions. Ian raised an eyebrow. Prescot nodded and went to the dressing room to retrieve the necessary garments.
“I am expecting some information from Bedford,” he told his secretary.
Stephan frowned as he held up a piece of paper. “I have it here, Sir. But, I am afraid it does not provide you what you need.”
Ian’s shoulders slumped. He had feared as much.
“I should inform you, Sir,” Stephan continued, “I did some checking on my own. Let us say I have different contacts than the Duke of Bedford.”
“And?”
“Nothing Sir, there is no leverage that I could find. The man’s finances are sound. No rumors, not when it concerns the nobility. Although. There is a story, unconfirmed, that Lord Evens injured a girl at Madam Abigail’s. An injury so bad that he has been banned from the premises.”
Ian winced. It must have been quite bad. The thought of Meg marrying such a man sent a sour sickness through him.
“Lady Duval?” he asked his secretary.
“Susan and Lady Duval have been given rooms and are freshening up. I assumed … “
“Yes, yes, very good. Perhaps if we hurry we can be away before Lady Duval learns of our intentions.”
Stephan frowned. “What exactly are our intentions? if I may ask.”
Ian smiled. “To end this fiasco once and for all,” Ian answered. “Have them bring the coach around and meet me out front.”
“Should I bring the pistols?”
Ian paused for a moment as he pushed down the urge to kill Lord Evens. No, it was still not the answer. Not unless it became a last resort.
“No. … Yes, but we will leave them in the carriage.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Stephan said, obviously disagreeing with his intentions to leave them in the carriage.
Ian sighed. Now for the most important part. Getting away before Meg discovered him gone.
.o0o.
His head continued to pound as if Cornish miners were set on finding the center of the earth. Taking a deep breath he pushed the pain away. Later, he told himself, he would deal with it later. Now he was faced with more important matters.
As the carriage pulled to a stop in front of L
ord Evens' house, Ian prepared to step down when Stephan held him back.
“Sir,” he said obviously conflicted. “I believe you may need some information. Information I promised not to share.”
Ian laughed. “Susan?”
Stephan’s cheeks actually turned pink with embarrassment but he nodded.
Ian sighed. “The task before me is perhaps the most important thing I have ever done. If you know something. I assure you. Word will not get back to Susan.”
The young man sighed as he nodded. “At her home, when Lady Duval was informed of your possible demise. Lord Evens took ahold of her, rather forcibly.”
Ian’s blood boiled as he glanced at the pistol box on the seat next to him. It took every bit of control to stop himself from taking one and shooting the man where he stood.
“The part I believe you should know is that Lady Duval pulled her hat pin and threatened to kill the man if he didn’t unhand her. She actually drew blood.”
Ian laughed. Why was he not surprised?
“I have found,” Stephan continued, “that every bit of information may come in handy.”
“It tells me that he is aware of her true feelings for him. Good. I won’t need to dance around the issue. Thank you.” Ian stepped down from the carriage and up to the door. Stephan followed closely.
Lord Evens’ butler was rather surprised to find a Duke at his door. With only the slightest hesitation he allowed the two men to enter and then led them to the study. “Sir,” the butler said as he opened the door. “His Grace, the Duke of Suffolk, and Mr. Johnson.”
Meg’s father stood by the window, looking rather pensive. The diminutive Viscount, Lord Evens, stood next to the fire, a drink in his hands. His brow furrowed in obvious confusion. “What is the meaning of this.”
The confused look changed over to one of fear as he realized his enemy was still alive and in his study.
Ian smiled as he removed his gloves and handed them to Stephan. The small mark on the man’s neck was an indication of how close Meg had come to kill the man.
“Lord Evens,” he said. “It is nice to find you doing well.”
Lord Evens swallowed as he tried to wrap his mind around what was happening.
“Before we go on,” Ian said. “I must know. Did you believe I would delope?”
The Viscount’s eyes grew big confirming Ian’s suspicion. The look of fear behind his eyes told him that the man had counted on it. But now, here, suddenly he was worried that things would not be the same if the situation was repeated.
“Yes, well,” Ian said as he stepped closer. “I have come to ask that you agree to break the betrothal. It is only right. No one knows about our … encounter this morning. No one knows about why it occurred.”
“I say Suffolk,” Meg’s father said as he stepped away from the window.
Ian smiled at him. “I will of course cover the bride’s price and even more if necessary. And, Sir, you must admit, an Earl’s daughter marrying a Duke is a step up vice the step down of marrying a mere Viscount.
Lord Duval’s shoulders slumped with relief. Ian knew that he would have no difficulty there. Obviously, the man had come to no longer care for his boyhood friend.
Evens’ eyes grew hard. “If you think I am letting that bitch go …”
Ian punched him, hard, and felt the satisfaction of knowing he had broken the man’s nose. The Viscount dropped to the ground, moaning as he held a hand to his bleeding nose.
“That was your second mistake,” Ian said. “The first was not killing me when you had the chance.”
“You can’t dwo wat,” the man mumbled.
Ian stared down at him and frowned. “What are you going to do about it? Challenge me to another duel. I can assure you Lord Evens. I am not some young girl in a brothel that you can abuse without fear.
Evens' eyes grew big as he glanced over at his future father-in-law to see if the man knew of the story.
“This time I will not delope,” Ian continued. “I will put a bullet through your heart.”
“Noo,” Evens said as he got to his knees and then stood up. “No. I won’t. You cannot force me. If she doesn’t marry me. She will never marry. The church will never sanctify it.”
Ian laughed. Oh, how little this man understood. “Very well. Then, Meg will become my mistress.”
“Suffolk,” her father said with a cross expression.
“Don’t worry,” he told Lord Duval. “If not that, then Meg and I will go to Canada and live our lives there. I am sure we can find someone to marry Ian Temple and Margaret Duval. That is the thing about the new world. They don’t really pay attention to our stupid spats.”
“Sir,” Stephan gasped.
“Your Title,” Evens’ scoffed. “You would lose it.”
Ian shrugged. “I have brothers.”
A heavy silence fell over the room as each man thought about what he was willing to give up. The wealth, the prestige. All of it to be sacrificed so that he could be with the woman he loved. A part of him almost hoped Evens refused. Suddenly the thought of freedom to do as he wished held an enticement that couldn’t be denied.
No, Meg deserved to be a Duchess.
“Think man,” he said to Evens. “You can walk away. Regain your money. Or the world will know that Lady Duval chose a penniless painter over you. She was willing to not be a Duchess. To live in the wilds of Canada just to avoid being your wife.”
Stephan stepped forward, “I know a reporter who would love that story. It would sell thousands of papers.”
Ian took a step closer to Evens, the man’s face turned white as he took two steps backwards until his shoulders came up against the wall. “Not only that,” Ian said as he leaned forward and peered into the man’s eyes. “Before I renounce my title. I will beat you to a pulp just on general principle. In fact, it will make it easier for Prinny to accept my renouncement.”
Lord Evens swallowed as he looked into Ian’s eyes and realized that Ian was looking forward to the opportunity.
Lord Duval let out a deep breath. “You will not marry my daughter, Lord Evens. Accept this now. Or I will let the world know that I broke the betrothal because I found you a coward. You knew the Duke would not fire at you. No, he has too much honor. That was why you faced him. I wondered. It seemed strange for you to become so brave all of sudden. No. You knew who your advisory was and used it to your advantage. You will do as His Grace requests, or If the Duke doesn’t kill you. I will.”
.o0o.
Margaret was furious. The man had left without a word. Left on some stupid secret mission that he refused to share with her. What was he thinking? A burning anger flowed through her as she stomped back and forth in her room.
Two hours, and not a word. He should be in bed. Not gallivanting around doing who knew what.
Susan was wise enough to stay out of her way.
“That man of yours helped him,” she said to her maid.
Susan flushed but she didn’t deny it, instead, she lifted her head. “I am sure he thought it was the right course, M’Lady.”
Margaret forced herself not to yell at Susan. No, she needed to keep her anger focused on Ian. The man would get a piece of her mind when he returned. What kind of fool …
Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp knock at the door and Ian calling out. “It’s me.”
A thousand angry butterflies took flight in her stomach. What was it about this man? Even when furious at him, he still excited her.
“Come,” she snapped as she arranged her face in a deep scowl. He must learn. This kind of behavior was unacceptable.
Ian and his secretary both entered the room. Stephan smiled at Susan and nodded to the door. Margaret was barely aware of Susan leaving with Stephan. Instead, all she could see was the tall man standing before her. His head still wrapped in bandages. A concerned look in his eyes.
“What?” she asked. “Did you kill Lord Evens? Not that I would mind you understand.”
He la
ughed and shook his head. “No, I have a bigger worry.”
Ian continued to stare at her, the seconds marching by as her heart began to race. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Yes what?” he asked obviously confused.
“Yes, I will marry you.”
He laughed and shook his head. “How did you know I was successful?”
She smiled as she stepped closer so that she could look up into his eyes. “You are Ian Temple, The Duke of Suffolk, and the man I love. I know you would never let me go.”
He laughed before leaning down and taking her lips with his. Meg sank into his embrace. Yes. He would never let her go. She was to have a life of happiness with this man. A woman could ask for no more.
Epilogue
Ian dipped his brush into the paint on his board, then glanced up and smiled. Meg had lifted the hem of her peasant dress and dipped and exquisite toe into the stream. “Yes,” he called out. “that is perfect.”
His heart soared. Had any man ever enjoyed such an escape? A small cottage in the forest. A beautiful wife for a model. Weeks of painting between sweet encounters of passionate lovemaking. Yes, life didn’t get any better.
Meg smiled at him as she balanced on one foot. “The water is cold.”
He laughed. “The sacrifices we must make for art.”
“You are not the one with cold feet.”
He laughed as he furiously tried to capture the image before she tired. The shape of her calf, the curve of her hip, the laughter in her eyes. Everything about this woman built a need inside of him. A need that he knew would never be fully satisfied. There would always be the need for more.
As he drew her. he remembered the picture stored behind his armoire at home. She had loved it, then insisted he burn it, telling him that a Duchess could never been seen in such a picture. He had demanded that he be allowed to hang it in the parlor. They had argued gently and come to the agreement that he would keep it hidden.
“You are thinking of that painting, our painting, aren’t you?”
He laughed. The woman could always read his mind. He could keep no secrets from her. “Yes,” he said as he continued to draw.
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