Cinderella and the Duke

by Janice Preston

‘Can I not?’

  Lascelles stepped towards her. Hector snarled, tensing, and Rosalind put her hand on his collar.

  ‘Who will stop me? Not you, with that joke of a weapon. Not him...’ He pointed his knife at Hector. ‘He is no match for this and you know it. It would be but a second’s work to gut him if he attacks.’

  ‘Your cousin knows what you have done,’ Rosalind said in desperation. ‘He has read the letter you sent to me.’

  Lascelles laughed. ‘My all-powerful cousin? And, so...where is he? Why is he not here to protect you?’

  He took another step, narrowing the gap between them. Rosalind shrank back, the hard rail of the balustrade pressing into her back.

  ‘Lascelles!’

  The roar boomed from below, followed by the thunder of boots on the stairs, distracting Lascelles. Rosalind released Hector.

  ‘Get him!’

  Hector leapt, his jaws closing around Lascelles’s arm. Lascelles screamed, staggering back into the drawing room. His knife clattered to the floor as he fell back and he lay still as Hector planted his front paws on his chest.

  And then strong arms encircled Rosalind and she was pulled into Leo’s embrace, her head clamped to his chest, his heart thundering in her ear. She melted against him for a few treasured seconds, then wriggled to free herself.

  ‘Susie,’ she gasped. ‘I must find her.’

  ‘Do not fret, sweetheart. I shall find her. You have exhibited quite enough bravery for one day.’ He tilted her chin to look deep into her eyes. ‘Enough for a lifetime.’ He pressed a kiss to her forehead and whispered, ‘I am never going to let you out of my sight again, you stubborn woman, you. My nerves are in shreds.’

  He released her and only then did Rosalind see Alex reach the top of the stairs. He ran towards the open doorway and stopped.

  ‘Is that Hector?’ Delight rang in his voice. ‘Hi! Freddie! That wolf dog of yours is a hero!’

  ‘Freddie? How...?’

  Freddie negotiated the final flight of stairs and grinned at Rosalind. ‘Soon as I saw old Hec outside, I knew you’d be a match for that blackguard. Brava, my dear.’

  ‘Frederick, be a good fellow and call off your dog,’ Leo said. His voice hardened. ‘I wish to have a word with my cousin.’

  He stalked over to the parlour door as Hector responded to Freddie’s whistle with a wagging tail. Rosalind glimpsed Lascelles scrambling to his feet as Leo entered the room and banged the door behind him, choking off Rosalind’s warning cry.

  She caught the meaningful looks Freddie and Alex exchanged and ran to the door, dodging Alex’s attempt to stop her. She thrust it wide as Leo punched Lascelles, who staggered sideways before dropping to his hands and knees, close to where his knife had fallen.

  Leo turned to the door, scowling. ‘Out!’

  Rosalind’s breath seized as, behind Leo, Lascelles regained his feet, lithe as a cat, the knife in his hand.

  ‘Leo!’

  Lascelles lunged at Leo. Rosalind leapt, hands outstretched, and shoved Leo aside with all her strength.

  There was a jolt. A burning pain. Her legs crumpled.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Silence shrouded Beauchamp House as the occupants slept. Apart from Leo. He longed for the relief of slumber, but when he sought his bed it was only to pitch around until his sheets were in a hopeless tangle and saturated with the sweat of his fear. He could only be soothed by having Rosalind within his sight, by knowing she was safe, by hearing the soft sough of her breath and knowing she lived.

  He shifted in the chair, smothered a yawn, scrubbed his hand over his bristled jaw and continued his bedside vigil. She was all right. Doctor Kent had confirmed it, after he had cleaned and dressed the shallow slash across her ribs. ‘Rosalind must rest,’ the doctor had said, administering a few drops of laudanum to calm her mind and prevent her dwelling on what might have been.

  A solitary candle flickered on the bedside table, dancing over her features. She muttered, moving her head on the pillow, her forehead wrinkling as unknowable memories chased through her dreams. Leo reached out and covered her hand with his. She quieted.

  His mind knew she was not gravely injured yet his heart could not quite believe she was safe. The events of the previous day returned again and again to harry him. And not only what had happened, but how they had made him feel. Feelings and emotions that he never, never wished to experience again: the sick dread on reading Lascelles’s letter, the guilt of knowing he had turned her away when she needed him, the terror that he would not reach her in time.

  He had sprinted from his office and out to the street, prepared to commandeer the first conveyance he saw. And there, having just drawn up, was Alex’s curricle, with Freddie in the passenger seat. The relief had very nearly unmanned Leo. He’d had to blink to clear his stinging eyes as he dragged the groom from his perch at the back and leapt up to take his place. And Alex—thank God—had not asked why, but had responded with speed, whipping up his horses. They had reached Lascelles’s house in minutes.

  And he had not been too late and love had exploded in his heart, filling him with relief and overwhelming him with gratitude.

  Leo cradled Rosalind’s hand between his as the following events unfolded in his memory, reliving that sickening moment when Rosalind shoved him aside—taking the knife thrust intended for him—and his deadly fury as he had launched himself at Lascelles, landing a hefty punch on his nose with a satisfying crunch of bone. He had followed Lascelles to the floor and wrapped his hands around his throat. Thank God Alex had stopped him.

  Back in the present, Leo stared down at Rosalind’s fingers, caressing them. So delicate, compared to his. And yet she had protected him. And he might have lost her. And he might still lose her, if she would not have him, if she still refused to marry him. No. He could not fail. He needed her. Only her. She, and she alone, had the power to reduce him to nothing. His title? His wealth? They were nothing without her.

  She stirred, and her fingers curled around his.

  ‘Shhh. Sleep.’

  Her eyelids opened, the merest crack. ‘Leo.’ And she smiled and slept again.

  He leaned over to press his lips to her brow, then settled back into his chair to listen to the reassuring sound of her breathing and to continue his vigil.

  * * *

  ‘You’re awake. May we come in?’

  Nell peered around the bedchamber door. Rosalind smiled and then frowned. It was barely ten in the morning.

  ‘What are you doing here so early?’

  She had breakfasted on hot rolls washed down with a cup of chocolate, and was feeling surprisingly well, despite the soreness of her injury. Nell entered the room, leading Susie by the hand. Penny followed, her round face beaming.

  ‘Susie!’

  Rosalind held out her arms. Susie needed no further encouragement and clambered on to the bed, cuddling next to Rosalind, who hugged her as she blinked back her tears.

  ‘Lady Cecily told me Susie was safe, but I longed to see her for myself,’ she said. ‘Thank you for bringing her.’

  Cecily had also told her how Lascelles had come across Susie on the landing at Lady Glenlochrie’s house and had lured her outside with the promise of a ride on his horse. Keating’s absence from the hall at the time they left had proved a lucky coincidence for Lascelles and an unhappy one for the rest of them.

  Nell grinned. ‘There is no need to thank me. We have been here all night.’

  ‘All night? But...why?’

  ‘The Duke insisted. Aunt Susan is here, too. He would not take no for an answer. Oh, and Aunt Susan has dismissed Keating for taking Lascelles’s bribe.’

  ‘Well, I cannot be sorry for that,’ Rosalind said. ‘What happened to Lascelles?’

  At his name, Susie pressed clos
er to Rosalind. ‘He is a Bad Man.’

  ‘He is a very bad man, Susie,’ Nell said, ‘but you will not have to see him again, I promise.’

  Rosalind hugged the little girl as Nell said, ‘He is gone, but that is all I know. The men are very tight-lipped over the details.’

  ‘I shall ask the Duke when I see him,’ Rosalind said.

  As they chatted, part of her mind picked over vague memories from the day before. And the night. Had she dreamt it, or had Leo really been sitting beside her bed when she roused in the middle of night? She had a vague recollection of candlelight playing over his roughened, unshaven features.

  ‘Where is the Duke?’ she asked abruptly.

  ‘I am not certain.’

  She had questions to ask, and one question—a very important question—to answer. Besides. She wanted to see him. She pushed back the bedcovers.

  ‘Ros. What are you doing? You should stay in bed.’

  ‘Nonsense. I am quite well apart from a little soreness. Will you ring for hot water, please, Penny?’

  * * *

  A short while later, washed and dressed, her hair brushed and pinned up, Rosalind descended the stairs to the ground floor. Nell had taken Susie to visit Lady Glenlochie—happily holding court in the best guest bedchamber—and the rest of the family and Freddie were nowhere to be seen. Only Hector was there to greet her with gently swinging tail as she crossed the staircase hall, his claws clicking on the floor tiles. Her heart sank as she passed through the doorway into the entrance hall. The butler stood guard outside the door of Leo’s study.

  Rosalind tilted her chin. ‘I should like to see the Duke, please.’

  The butler bowed. ‘Certainly, Miss Allen. I shall announce you.’

  Rosalind bit back her impatience at such pomp. He was only doing his job.

  ‘Miss Allen, Your Grace.’

  He stood aside. Rosalind glanced at him as she passed. Was that a glint of approval in his eye? He certainly appeared to have lost his former condescension. He hadn’t peered down his nose at her once.

  And then she forgot all about the butler, for there was Leo, coming towards her with hands outstretched, a troubled frown creasing his handsome face.

  ‘Should you not be resting, sweetheart?’

  She read concern in the fine lines surrounding his mesmeric silver-grey eyes. He was clean-shaven now, but dark shadows attested to a broken night.

  ‘I am well-rested, Leo. It is you who looks in need of sleep.’

  She cradled his cheek and he turned his head to press his lips to her palm. Then he laughed as he noticed Hector, who wandered over to the fire to curl up with a contented sigh.

  ‘Protection?’

  ‘Am I in need of protection?’

  One corner of his mouth quirked up. ‘What do you think?’

  He dipped his head to brush her lips with his, then gathered her into his arms, gazing into her upturned face.

  ‘I think...’ she slipped her arms around his shoulders, interlocking her fingers at his nape ‘...that it may be you who is in need of protection, Your Grace.’

  She pulled his head down and pressed her lips to his, the now familiar tug at the secret place between her thighs reminding her of pleasures to come. With a heartfelt groan, Leo hauled her to him as their mouths and tongues conveyed the feelings that words, for the moment, could not. Her legs quivered with need and she clung to his shoulders, relying on his strength to support her. When he ended the kiss though, she felt the tremble of his hand as he stroked her cheek, a look of wonderment on his face.

  ‘I need you, my sweet Rosalind.’ His voice, normally so assured, shook. ‘Put me out of my misery. Say you will marry me.’

  She opened her mouth, but he stopped her with one finger to her lips.

  ‘I know you have questions, as do I, but I can barely think straight with the dread of losing you hanging over me. You think me powerful, but you do not realise that it is you who truly holds the power...the power to make me the happiest of men or the most wretched...the power to bring me to my knees. I cannot bear to think of my life without you.

  ‘I love you, Rosalind Allen, with all my heart. I ask you again...will you marry me? Please?’

  All doubt fled her heart at his words.

  ‘I love you, too—’ how she had longed to say those words ‘—and, despite the fact you are a duke, my answer is yes. I will marry you.’

  He stared at her, then burst into laughter. ‘Of all the answers I dreamt you might give, I never imagined you would accept me despite my title.’

  He framed her face with long fingers. ‘Oh, my precious love...’ His mouth descended on hers and she lost herself in his kiss, but still doubt nibbled at the corner of her mind. She pulled away. He looked down at her questioningly.

  ‘You are certain you will not regret marrying a nobody like me?’

  ‘A nobody?’ His brows drew together in a fearsome frown. ‘Why would you—oh! I see: your mother’s family. Sweetheart...’ he hugged her close ‘...they are fools. You are the bravest, wisest, most compassionate woman I know. And I am certain if your father were alive he would be very proud of you and the way you have cared for your brothers and sister. I shall never regret marrying you, I promise.’

  Tears welled, and Rosalind swallowed them back.

  ‘Is that what you feared?’ He tilted her chin. ‘That I should grow weary of you?’

  ‘Mama fell out of love with Papa.’

  ‘Come...’ he led her to a wingback chair by the fire ‘...and tell me all about it.’ He sat and pulled her to his knee. ‘Is that why you said “I cannot” the other day? Because of what I am, not who I am?’

  She told him about her mother’s dissatisfaction and her parents’ constant arguments. ‘It is the last thing I remember before Papa died.’ She gulped back her tears, reaching for the comfort of her locket. ‘Them arguing. Mama crying. And then the crash. And afterwards...afterwards...she was happy again. And she met Lord Lydney and they were happy together. Our marriage will be unequal, like theirs. People will look down on me, like Mama looked down on Papa and on Grandpa. Like my aunts look down on me and Freddie.’

  She cried into his shoulder as he rubbed her back.

  ‘Your grandpa is still alive?’ he asked, when the tears stopped.

  She sniffed and he handed her his handkerchief. ‘I know not. We visited him. He made me this...’ she showed Leo her locket ‘...for my sixth birthday, but Mama refused to stay any longer and so we travelled home a day early, on the day of my birthday, and that is when...when...’

  ‘Oh, sweetheart.’ Leo held her close as her voice tailed into silence. ‘No wonder you are afraid, but there is no need to be.’

  He wiped her eyes, then tilted her face to his. His dark brows rose as he said, ‘Do you really believe anyone would dare to shun my Duchess? Your mother was a young girl when she eloped with your father and her reputation was bound to suffer. Like it or not, that is the world we live in. It will be different for me and you, I promise.’

  She knew he was right. Who, indeed, would dare to stand against him?

  ‘Will you tell me about your wife?’

  A muscle bunched in Leo’s jaw, then he sighed. ‘I promised myself I would learn to confide in you and to trust you.’

  He told her how he had married at eighteen to set his father’s mind at rest.

  ‘Although it was not a love match, I thought we would be content, but once Margaret had done her duty, she lost all interest in me and in the children. All she cared for was being the Duchess of Cheriton. I later discovered she’d taken many lovers, but all I cared about by then was protecting the children from the truth of their mother’s character.’

  Rosalind kissed his cheek, stroking his hair, knowing how hard it must be to expose the hurt h
e had suffered with Margaret’s lies and deceit and, worse, her casual dismissal of her own children.

  ‘How did she die?’

  ‘She was killed, at Cheriton Abbey.’

  ‘Killed? How?’

  ‘We think by a passing vagrant. Alex found her body in a summerhouse where there were signs that someone had been sleeping rough. Margaret...’ his voice cracked with emotion ‘...she had been violated and strangled.’

  Rosalind hugged him close.

  ‘Oh, my darling. And poor, poor Alex.’

  ‘He was only seven. He lost his speech for almost a year.’

  ‘Your poor children, to lose their mother in such a way. Thank goodness they had you and Cecily to support them.’

  ‘And now they will have you. Us. As will Susie.’

  ‘Leo! Really? Susie may stay?’

  ‘Of course she may.’

  Rosalind kissed him, pouring all of her love into her embrace.

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered when she finally took her lips from him. She traced his eyebrow with her forefinger. ‘Leo, what happened yesterday? Did you have Lascelles arrested?’

  ‘Ah. No.’

  Rosalind stiffened, pushing away from him. ‘No? But...why not? He kidnapped Susie and he would have done far worse to me if you had not come.’

  He sighed and thrust his fingers through his hair. ‘That was my intention, but he made it very clear that if I involved the law, he would drag both the Beauchamp name and yours through the courts for the newspapers to slaver over.

  ‘So I came up with an alternative punishment for him.’

  Rosalind shivered at the wolfish grin that crossed his face.

  ‘I had him hauled off to the docks and chucked on board a ship about to set sail for China. I sent plenty of coins as an incentive for the captain to work him hard.’

  Rosalind refused to feel pity for Lascelles.

  ‘Now...’ Leo peppered her face with kisses ‘...I have it in mind to apply to the Archbishop for a special licence, so we can wed as soon as possible. What do you think?’

  A warm glow suffused Rosalind. Here was more proof of his change. Proof he would ask for and listen to her opinion.