The Courtesan Duchess

by Joanna Shupe

  Before she could get to the door, a sharp pain exploded behind her head, the force of a blow sending her forward, the ground rising up to meet her. Cool dirt beneath her cheek was the last thing to register before blackness engulfed her.

  Nick stood in the ballroom, stripped to the waist, waiting for Fitz to ready himself. His friend had requested a quick break to catch his breath.

  “If you were not so busy with nocturnal activities, perhaps you would have more stamina for our morning exercise,” he called out.

  “And if you found a bit of nocturnal activity for yourself, you wouldn’t feel the need to drive us both to bleedin’ exhaustion each day,” Fitz grumbled.

  Probably true, Nick admitted. His body frustrated to distraction, these daily workouts were all that kept him sane. But he wasn’t about to tell Fitz that.

  “And how is the lovely Lady Carville?”

  Fitz reddened, a sight Nick had never thought to see. Bloody hell, Fitz was in love.

  “Lovely,” the big man replied. “And gentle. Sweet as—”

  “Enough.” Nick held up a hand. “I’d prefer to hold on to my morning meal, if you don’t mind.”

  Fitz smiled knowingly, a look that had Nick’s fingers tightening on his foil. “You could be under a particular woman’s spell, too, if you’d but let yourself fall.”

  He’d already fallen, but didn’t bother correcting Fitz. “Get up, you lazy ox. You talk more than a woman.”

  Right then, the door opened and one of the footmen came in. “This just arrived, Your Grace.”

  Nick tossed down his foil, took the note, and tore it open. All the air left his lungs. Blood pounding in his ears, he murmured, “My God.”

  “What is it?” Fitz rushed over and Nick handed him the note.

  Colton—

  I have your wife. An exchange can be made for the right price. Come alone to the crofter’s cottage just outside the forest’s edge. If you bring anyone, your wife dies.

  “Who do you suppose this is from?” Fitz asked.

  Nick shook his head, his mind frozen with fear. Someone had Julia. Kidnapped her. How in the blazes had that happened?

  He grabbed his shirt and ran out of the room. “Thorton!” he shouted as he pulled on his shirt and thundered down the stairs two at a time. “Thorton!”

  “Yes, Your Grace?” Thorton appeared at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes wide with concern.

  “My wife. Where is she?”

  “I believe Her Grace went on a walk this morning. She planned to visit Lady Lambert at the dower house.”

  “Alone? No one went with her?”

  When Thorton shook his head, anger and guilt tore through Nick, and he slammed a fist against his thigh. Damn it. He should have kept a closer eye on her, but his bloody pride had prevented him from doing so. She’d told him to stay away and, like a fool, he’d done exactly that.

  Jesus. If anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.

  “Fitz!” he called loudly.

  “Here, Your Grace.” Nick whirled and saw Fitz looming on the stairs, his scarred face showing concern. “What do you want to do?”

  “I don’t know yet. But grab the pistols and let’s discuss it on the way.”

  Julia roused slowly, the pain in her head excruciating. Everything hurt. Confused, she twisted slightly and realized with no small amount of alarm that her hands were tied behind her. She blinked in the dim light and glanced around. It was a small cottage of some sort, one she did not recognize, though it appeared to have gone unused for a good number of years, if the cobwebs were any indication. What had happened?

  She took some deep breaths in an attempt to ease the pounding in her skull. The walls and floor were bare wood, with very little furniture inside the room. A small wooden table with a few chairs and a cot. A fire burned brightly in the fireplace, warding off the cold air.

  Who lived here? And what did they want with her?

  Moving her arms, she tested the strength of her bindings. Perhaps she could wriggle free. With a soft grunt, she gave up. Escape would not come easy. The ropes were too tight for her to get any slack.

  The door opened and a man came inside, his arms loaded with firewood. He looked up—

  Templeton.

  Oh, for God’s sake, she should have known. Julia’s eyes narrowed on her husband’s cousin. Instead of fear, white-hot anger flooded her. This man had plagued her for far too long.

  “Good. You’re awake. I did not want you sleeping the afternoon away.” He strode to the fireplace and dropped the wood next to the wall.

  “I would not have slept at all if you hadn’t clobbered me, you dolt. Untie me.”

  “Shouting at me won’t do you any good, Your Grace. And I don’t take orders from you.”

  She sighed. “Have you lost your mind, Templeton? Why have you brought me here?”

  “You shall see,” he said, removing his overcoat. “First I must deal with your husband when he arrives.”

  Oh, no. She swallowed the panicked hysteria welling up inside her. Why had he hit her over the head? What was he planning to do to Nick?

  “How do you know Colton will even come?”

  Templeton took a chair and placed it against the wall, facing both her and the door. “I sent a note. He’ll come.”

  Julia wasn’t so sure. After all, she and Nick weren’t exactly on friendly terms. In their last conversation, she told him to leave her alone, and he’d been only too happy to do so. She seriously doubted the man would rush off to rescue her. “And if he doesn’t?”

  “Oh, he will.” Templeton withdrew a pistol from inside his pocket. “But no more talking. I want to be ready for him.”

  “You’re planning to kill him.” Suddenly it became clear. If Nick were out of the way, with no Colton heir, Templeton stood to claim the title for himself.

  “Yes, that is the general plan. The degenerate never should have come back. And if it weren’t for you he wouldn’t have.”

  “So why kidnap me?”

  “When the authorities find the gun in your hand instead of mine, Colton’s death will appear as a lover’s quarrel gone bad. After all, everyone knows of the lack of affection between the two of you.”

  Her stomach rolled. “Templeton, even for you, that is disgusting.”

  He smiled, his sharp, pinched features twisting in evil merriment. “Thank you.”

  A loaded silence descended. The hiss and crackle of the fire was deafening, and every second that passed was torture. Her muscles tensed in dreaded anticipation of the moment Nick came through the door. Perhaps she could convince him to give her more slack in the bindings. If so, she might be able to escape.

  “The ropes are a bit tight, Templeton. My arms are quite sore. Would you mind loosening them?”

  He shot her a withering glare. “Not a chance. I cannot risk having you escape. Now cease your chattering, harpy, or I will gag you.”

  The minutes crept by. How long had she been here? Hours? Her anxiety grew, since she had no idea if Nick would come for her. And if he did, how would he stay alive?

  She imagined Nick rushing in the door and Templeton shooting her husband dead right in front of her. Pain gripped her chest and she had to close her eyes. No, no. Nick couldn’t die. Yes, she was angry with him, but the idea of losing him filled her with a despair she would not have expected.

  She still loved that infuriating man—and he was not allowed to die before Julia had a chance to tell him. Only Nick had the ability to turn her emotions inside out. He could make her spitting mad one second and burn with lust in the next. He’d hurt her, no question about that, but Julia needed him. Olivia needed him.

  The thought of her daughter caused moisture to gather in her eyes. Would she ever see little Olivia again? If Templeton made good on his threat, both she and Nick would die today.

  Which meant Olivia would be dependent on the kindness of relatives. While Julia loved Theo, her aunt had never wanted children. So would she t
ake Olivia in? They had never talked about it, but if Theo didn’t raise Olivia, who would?

  Julia hated the idea of a distant relative or a stranger caring for her daughter. Who would kiss Olivia’s scrapes and smooth her hair? Who would help her pick out dresses and present her at court? Would they tell Olivia about her real parents, how much she was loved? Tears slid down Julia’s face and she muffled a sob.

  Templeton shot her a strange look, then stood and threw the last of the logs onto the fire. “I’m going out for more wood.” With that, he pulled on his greatcoat and hat, and stomped out of the cottage.

  She almost smiled. If she’d known crying would get rid of Templeton so quickly, she would have produced a few tears a long time ago.

  Pulling frantically with all her might, Julia attempted to loosen her bindings. She used her fingernails to pull at whatever section of the rope she could reach. With even a bit of slack, she might be able to squirm free. She knew from the sharp sting of pain in her hands that her fingers were bleeding, but that hardly mattered. Templeton would not win.

  The door bounced open. She froze, expecting Templeton, but instead saw her husband. Braced for battle, his face was hard and angry, a pistol in his right hand. “Nick,” she breathed, her shoulders sagging in relief. “Thank God.”

  Nick rushed forward, glancing around to confirm they were alone. “Are you hurt?” He touched her cheek gently with his free hand, his face softening.

  She nodded. “I’m fine. It’s Templeton. He means to kill you.”

  “Indeed I do,” Templeton said from behind them, his pistol trained on Nick. “And if Colton will turn around, I shall claim what should be rightfully mine.”

  Julia found Nick’s gaze. There was determination and savage ferocity in the gray depths of his eyes, but also fear. He was scared for her. “Do not dare,” she told him quietly. “Do not sacrifice yourself for me.”

  “Drop the pistol, Colton.” Templeton stepped farther inside. “On the floor. Now.”

  Nick’s stare never wavered from hers. A loud thud reverberated as the pistol hit the wood floor. “No, Nick,” she whispered, a tear sliding free and cascading down her cheek.

  He lifted his hand to gently brush the wetness with his thumb. “Do not cry, tesorina,” he murmured.

  Julia swallowed, the endearment warming her heart even as panic threatened to smother her. Surely he planned to stop Templeton, didn’t he?

  “Turn around. Slowly.” Templeton kept his weapon pointed at Nick.

  With a grim set of his lips, Nick straightened and faced Templeton. “You do not honestly believe you’ll walk away from this, do you?” His voice like steel, the duke crossed his arms over his chest. “And even if you do, no one will believe you.”

  “They won’t be able to prove a thing,” Templeton sneered. “The gun will be found in your wife’s hand and you’ll both be dead. All I have to do is shoot you from the front, to make it appear as a lover’s quarrel gone bad.”

  “You mean the same way no one was able to prove you rigged a root in the forest to trip my wife?”

  Julia gasped, and the look on Templeton’s face confirmed the accusation. “I wanted her to lose the brat,” her husband’s cousin snarled. “I couldn’t risk her producing an heir. When she did not die, I had to think of something else. This is far better because now both of you will be out of the way. Now move!”

  Nick held up his hands. “Templeton, this is madness. You do not want to kill us.”

  “Yes, I do. And you’re first. Stand in the middle of the room.”

  Nick carefully stepped to the center of the floor, perfectly still, and Templeton lifted his pistol to aim it directly at the duke’s chest.

  Julia couldn’t believe this was happening. Was Nick truly going to let Templeton shoot him without fighting back? “Nick, no!” She worked frantically at her bindings again, desperate to reach Nick’s abandoned gun on the floor by her feet.

  Templeton pulled the hammer back and—

  A shot exploded. Time stopped, with her eyes trained on Nick while waiting to see him recoil from the wound. Only, he remained upright, his eyes on Templeton . . . who crumpled to the ground with nary a whimper.

  Fitz appeared in the doorway, a smoking pistol in his hand.

  “Nicely done, Fitz,” Nick called, turning toward Julia. “Make sure he’s dead, will you?” Fitz nodded and went over to inspect Templeton’s wound.

  Nick smiled at her. “Are you certain you’re unharmed? He didn’t touch you, did he?”

  Julia shook her head, too relieved to speak.

  Her husband lowered to his haunches behind her chair. Within seconds, her wrists were freed. The blood rushed back into her arms in sharp tingles, and she squeaked in pain. His large hands on her shoulders, Nick began kneading all the way down until he reached her wrists. When feeling finally returned, she stood up, turned, and threw her arms around his neck, squeezing him as hard as she could.

  She never wanted to let him go.

  “I thought he was going to kill you,” she murmured against his throat.

  His strong arms slid around her and pressed her close. “I was sorry to worry you, but I could not alert him to Fitz’s presence.” He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, holding on to her tightly.

  Neither of them noticed a shadowy figure in the doorway. Julia heard a shout and saw Fitz sprinting toward the exit just as another shot rang out. In horror, she watched Fitz crumple to the ground.

  Angela crossed the threshold, small pistol in each of her hands. “Damn. That bullet was for you, Colton.” She threw the empty weapon to the ground, quickly lifted the second pistol and pulled the hammer back.

  “Angela, what in God’s name are you doing? Put the gun down.” Nick shifted to stand in front of Julia, his hand wrapped around her forearm to keep her in place. She peeked around his shoulder to keep an eye on Angela.

  “Not before I kill you first. That fool”—Angela threw a look at Templeton—“never could be trusted to do anything right.”

  “You . . . and Templeton?” Nick’s voice indicated his disbelief.

  “Do not sound so surprised. We had mutual interests. Eight years I’ve been grooming that idiot to take over the dukedom, urging him to take more and more control for us. And he’s failed at every turn.”

  “Allow me to guess. He’s the one responsible for the attacks on me over the years.”

  Angela threw her head back and laughed. “Him? Please. No, that was me. It took forever to save enough pin money to hire someone to find and then try to kill you. But you always managed to stay alive, and I’d have to start squirreling money away once more. Well, not this time, Your Grace.”

  “Why?” he asked, his voice calm and steady. “Why are you doing this?”

  She took a step forward, her hands trembling. “I should be a duchess. I should be the one in control of the Colton fortune—not begging for scraps like a dog. Forced to put up with that evil witch for eight years, listening to her berate me and everyone else for hours. The only reason I didn’t kill her sooner was because I had convinced her to let Templeton control the estate.”

  Julia’s head swam. Angela had killed Nick’s mother? The woman was clearly mad.

  Leaning around Nick once more, Julia glanced down at Fitz, who still hadn’t moved. A large red stain bloomed on his side but she could make out the faint rise and fall of his chest, which meant he was still alive, thank goodness.

  Remembering the gun on the floor, Julia eased down in the chair and used her foot to slowly drag it under her skirts.

  “But Harry died and you sent me away. And now I’m nothing,” Angela spat, her nostrils flaring.

  “Harry didn’t just die, Angela. He hung himself because you arranged for him to find us together. An innocent encounter where you conveniently threw yourself at me as Harry walked in. The whole business was cleverly timed. And when Harry gave you a chance to explain, instead of telling him the truth, you proceeded to fill his head with l
ies,” Nick said. “Harry actually loved you. It broke him to learn you never felt the same. He refused to believe me and died thinking I’d dishonored him by carrying on a secret affair with his wife. All of this is your doing.”

  Shocked, Julia straightened in her chair. His brother . . . took his own life? Oh God. Poor Nick. How guilty he must feel. No wonder his father had been able to blackmail him into marriage all those years ago. Nick never would have wanted anyone to find out the truth over his brother’s death, to have Harry’s memory tarnished in such a way.

  “Harry did not kill himself, you fool. I knew finding us together would drive him over the edge. He was already so jealous of you, of the way I felt about you. I saw the way you looked at me, Nick. I knew how much you wanted me. And I loved you. We would have been perfect together. Only, you ruined everything!”

  Julia felt Nick stiffen. “What do you mean, he didn’t kill himself?” he asked.

  Angela’s voice softened, turned husky. “Come, Nick. Do not pretend with me. I am the one woman who understood you, who could have given you what you need. And I know how much you wanted me, how you stared at me.”

  “Angela, did you kill Harry?”

  “I had to. He locked himself in the study and drank until he nearly passed out,” she explained. “It was easy to fasten the rope on the study’s upper railing. I only had to guide him to the chair, slip the noose over his neck, and then pull the chair away. He never felt a thing. But you had to ruin it. You left me and married her, and I was nothing.”

  Angela crept closer, the gun still pointed at Nick’s chest. Eyes wild, her lips curved into a malevolent smile, Angela had truly become unhinged. At any minute, her sister-in-law could shoot Nick dead.

  Very slowly, with Nick still blocking her from view, Julia began reaching down to the gun hidden underneath her skirts.

  “You do not want to do this, Angela. You’ll swing for it.”

  “Oh, I definitely want to do this. I’ve been waiting to do this for eight years. And after I kill you, I’m going to kill your wife.”