The Dangerous Duke

by Christine Wells

  His bowed head struck her heart. She wished for the courage to smooth that unruly black hair from his brow, to draw him into her arms. “You don’t blame yourself for your absence, surely?”

  He turned his gaze to hers. With a bitter smile, he said, “No. Even I am not so conceited as to believe I could have stopped the fire. Most likely, I would have perished along with the others. But . . . one feels a sense of, oh, I don’t know. Guilt? Responsibility? Certainly, it’s my duty now to see those rebels brought to justice. I owe it to the dead, but I also owe it to the survivors. Their lives will never be the same.”

  A grand Elizabethan manor house loomed in the distance, beyond a handsome park. The carriage bowled past the imposing gates and continued down the road a little way, before turning into a lane.

  “That fire changed your life, too,” Kate said softly. “Now, you are a duke.” She wondered how he would adapt to the transition. “How strange Fate is.”

  His brows snapped together. “It wasn’t Fate’s hand that set that fire, Lady Kate. It was a very human one.”

  “And you are determined to see justice done. Yes, I understand.” She paused, gathering her courage. “Similarly, you must understand that my brother has done nothing to warrant being locked up for sedition. He doesn’t condone violence. He never has. Never! If you only knew—” She felt her voice rising and fought to control her emotions. Emotional display would get her nowhere with Lyle.

  “He will be free soon enough. You have my word.”

  Lyle sounded so certain, but he didn’t know Stephen. Kate cleared her throat. “These . . . methods of persuasion you spoke of . . .”

  He turned his head to look at her and she couldn’t stop the heat that rose to her cheeks. Those hands. Those big, magical hands. “I—I meant your methods to persuade my brother. I don’t see how they could be more persuasive than his sense of right.”

  When he merely looked skeptical, she said, “My dear sir, my brother is a saint. He would, indeed, go to the scaffold rather than betray another man to his death. He has all the conviction of a martyr. You will not sway him.”

  Lyle considered her for a long time, his eyes clear and perceptive.

  “What is it?” She brushed at her face. “Have I a smut on my nose?”

  “No. I was trying to decide when you are most beautiful,” he replied. “When your brow furrows a little—” He traced the spot with his fingertip. “There. Or when your lips curve in that soft, pensive smile.” He cupped her jaw in one hand and brushed her mouth with the pad of his thumb. “Ravishing.”

  She sat still, in wondering fascination, her breath coming faster. “I asked you a question, Lyle.”

  “Yes?” He bent towards her, angling his head, as if for a kiss. “What was it? I’ve forgotten.”

  Words stuck in her throat as his face filled her vision. She closed her eyes on a small sigh. For an instant, his warm breath caressed her lips. Then his mouth took hers.

  It was an open, carnal kiss that shocked her, just as his unfettered possession of her body had shocked her the night before. Here was no gentle, respectful lover, but a man taking everything he wanted, giving no quarter.

  She placed her palms on his chest, then slid them up to grasp his lapels. The force of his kiss drove her back against the squabs and she sank into them, pulling him into her. She kissed him back as if her life depended on it, with a raw sensuality she’d never shown another man. Ravenously, like a beggar at a feast.

  And oh, hadn’t she starved all these years?

  “A tower.” Kate stared up at the crenellated structure that stood next to a barn some distance from the house. It looked like the final remnant of a medieval castle. “You’re locking me in a tower?”

  “For your own protection. Come on.” Lyle took her elbow and hurried her up the path to where a sturdy door barred the way. He produced a key to unlock the door and they stepped into a dark, round room with a central staircase that wound in a tight spiral to the floor above. They mounted the steps and emerged through a trapdoor in the ceiling into a room fitted out with rich red hangings and carpets and a large tester bed.

  Kate eyed the chamber in amazement. “What is this place?”

  Lyle bowed. “This will be your quarters for the next few days, my lady.”

  Her eyes widened. “You’re going to lock me away in here, all by myself?”

  He smiled down at her. “Some of the time,” he answered, trailing his gaze down her body. “But I think I’ll be able to keep you . . . reasonably entertained while you’re here.”

  She hated that an anticipatory shiver ran through her and hated even more that he saw it. She thought about the previous night and wondered how soon they might repeat the experience.

  “Books, for example,” he continued, with an innocent expression.

  Kate started. “Er, books?”

  “Yes, books are very entertaining, don’t you agree?” said Lyle. “And I’m sure there is some needle and thread somewhere, should you wish to sew.”

  She choked. “I’m more likely to scratch your eyes with the needle and garrote you with the thread!”

  “Oh, and you may take your daily exercise in the barn.”

  His lips twitched at the glowering look she gave him. So he thought this was amusing!

  Lyle glanced around. “I must make sure everything is secure. In the meantime”—he gestured at a pile of heavy-looking tomes—“there are the books.”

  He tipped an imaginary hat and disappeared through the trapdoor.

  LEAVING George to guard the tower, Max strolled across the manicured lawns to the house. He walked through an open French door and immediately heard sounds of a disturbance.

  “I won’t have it, sir!” Small feet tromped along the corridor.

  “You’ll damned well have it and like it, madam!” Romney’s unmistakable roar and stomping followed, attended by a soothing murmur he recognized as his sister’s. Surprised, Max considered the meaning of her presence. Hadn’t she trusted Romney with the diary? Perhaps she hadn’t finished the translation yet.

  The door to the drawing room in which Max stood flung open and a very pregnant lady erupted into the room, closely followed by her irate husband. On seeing him, they stopped short.

  “Max!” Fanny’s eyes lit and she moved forward to take his hands. “How delightful to see you. Do sit down and I’ll ring for tea. Louisa, your brother,” she spoke over her shoulder unnecessarily.

  “Hello, Max.” Louisa smiled and gave him her hands also, but strain shadowed her face. The diary. What secrets had he burdened her with?

  He shot her a questioning glance and she nodded slightly, as if to confirm she’d accomplished her task. Then Romney was upon him shaking his hand and offering him something stronger than tea.

  Romney ran his finger between his collar and neck.

  “Good thing you turned up, old fellow. She wanted to redecorate the house. Immediately. That one might have been ugly.”

  Max shook his head at Fanny in mock exasperation. The Romneys delighted in their arguments and wouldn’t know what to do if they ever found themselves in perfect harmony.

  “I have brought a guest to stay in your tower,” said Max. The two ladies looked intrigued.

  “Snaffled her, did you?” Romney raised his brows as he poured them both a drink.

  “Snaffled?” said Louisa, straightening. “Do you mean you have constrained this lady to accompany you here?”

  “Of course not, Louisa,” said Max, sending a warning glance to Romney. “The lady is here for her protection.” He paused. “Someone is trying to kill her.”

  Louisa gasped. Fanny’s face lit up. “That sounds vastly exciting. Better than a play! When can we meet her?”

  “You, madam, shall go nowhere near the tower,” her husband warned.

  Fanny opened her mouth to retort, but Louisa intervened. “He is perfectly right, you know, Fanny. Though not perhaps, as tactful as he might be.” She sent their cousin a wither
ing glance then turned back to Fanny. “You know you couldn’t manage the stairs.”

  “Well, perhaps this mysterious she can come to us?” Fanny looked enquiringly at Max.

  Max shook his head. “Out of the question. Just curb your curiosity for the moment, puss, and let the lady be.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Louisa? A word in private, if I may.”

  “Yes, of course. We should go to the library, perhaps.”

  Graceful, as always, Louisa led him from the room.

  As they walked the corridor in silence, he noticed a tension in the air about his sister, as if she were holding very tightly to her composure.

  Once they reached the library, she immediately went to an oak chest beneath the window. She opened the lid and took out the diary and a sheaf of foolscap—her translation, he supposed—and clutched them both to her chest. She didn’t speak.

  He closed the door behind him with a loud click, shattering the silence.

  “How will you use this information?” Louisa blurted out.

  “That is government business. I’m afraid I can’t say.”

  “But how can it be—” Louisa began, but caught herself. She searched his face. “You don’t know what is in this book, do you, Max?”

  “Not precisely,” he admitted. “I wouldn’t have needed you to translate it if I did, would I?”

  “Oh. Yes, right.” Louisa still made no move to hand the documents over.

  “I’ll have them now, if you don’t mind,” he said, stretching out his hand to her. Suddenly, his hand shook. The answer to what kind of threat Lady Kate posed lay between these pages, and perhaps even a clue as to who wanted her dead. But more than that, the diary was hers, her thoughts, a part of her. He was almost sick with apprehension about what it might contain.

  “Do you know who wrote this?” Louisa asked. “Is—is it the lady in the tower?”

  “No.” Max felt honor-bound to protect Kate’s identity, even from his sister. “Now, give me the diary and your notes, please, Louie.”

  Her face worked, as if she were trying not to burst into tears. What was the matter with the girl? She shoved the papers and the diary into his hands, then brushed past him and wrenched open the door.

  “I give you joy of them,” she whispered and closed the door behind her.

  Max was left gripping the papers, staring at the unresponsive door. Why was Louisa so distraught? Did she object to him reading someone else’s private papers? The morality of it troubled him, too, but for the sake of Lady Kate’s safety it had to be done.

  Women. He shrugged and sat down to read.

  Eleven

  I want to give him everything, pleasure him as he has delighted me. Curse my confounded, chaste ignorance! I know there is more . . .

  LOUISA approached the tower cautiously, looking about her to check that no one saw.

  She stopped short when she got inside. George sat there on the bottom of the winding staircase, gnawing on a chicken bone.

  “Lady Louisa.” He straightened to full attention, attempting to hide his drumstick behind him.

  “Do go on with your meal, George,” said Louisa, smiling at him. “I came to make the acquaintance of the lady upstairs. My brother said I should see to her comfort.”

  She hardly ever lied, but in a good cause, she could be very glib. Nodding to him, she swept past, giving him no opportunity to gainsay her.

  Pushing up the heavy trapdoor was a feat in itself, and Louisa tried several times before it lifted and swung back. She popped her head through the opening and saw a woman above her, standing in an aggressive attitude. “Oh, don’t run me through with your hat pin, I pray!” laughed Louisa, scrambling through the opening and rising to her feet. “I’m quite harmless, I assure you.”

  The woman eyed her doubtfully, but she put the pin down on an occasional table. She looked a little wild, with her hair coming lose from its tight coil, her chest rising and falling as if she’d had a fright.

  “I hope I didn’t scare you. I’m Louisa. Lyle’s sister, you know.”

  A moment passed before the woman relaxed. “Lady Kate Fairchild,” she responded, returning her smile. “Please call me Kate. Do sit down. I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, only what you must think of my being here like this, I can’t guess!”

  Louisa took the chair Kate indicated. Waving away Kate’s embarrassment, she said, “My brother told me only that your life is in danger. That is enough for the present.”

  Kate made a wry face. “It is true, though it sounds so melodramatic when you put it like that.”

  Something about this lady—her manner, her humor perhaps—made Louisa almost certain she was the author of that diary. Suddenly nervous, Louisa launched into speech. “Well, I can see you would much rather rest, so I’ll leave you. I just came to see if there was anything I could do to secure your comfort while you’re here. Are you quite famished? I’ll send up a basket. Oh, and books! Do you read? If you are to stay here any length of time, you must let me bring you some books. I—”

  I read your diary and it felt like you’d written my life.

  No, she couldn’t say that, not in a thousand years. But she stood there with a powerful longing in her breast for connection. She wanted so much to talk with this woman, ask her, oh, all kinds of things. But one couldn’t force intimacy, particularly on the first meeting, and she’d no intention of blurting out that she’d read Kate’s diary. How intrusive and embarrassing Kate would find that. She’d be horrified.

  Kate smiled. “You are so kind. I admit, I am hungry and I would like some books to read.” She glanced at the pile of serious-looking tomes on the table. “That is, do you have any novels? I confess I’m partial to them.”

  “Oh, yes. My cousin Fanny has tons of them,” Louisa said. “She is quite addicted.”

  “In fact, I feel a little like a heroine in a novel at the moment,” said Kate, grimacing. “Or at least one of those maidens in a fairy tale. The princess in the tower.”

  And she did look rather like a fairy princess, with her slightly tip-tilted nose and wide hazel eyes. “I suppose Max put you here because this tower is most easily defended,” said Louisa.

  “I’d like to be able to defend myself,” answered Kate, glowering a little. “Your brother won’t agree to teach me. He likes to think he is my sole protector, that I shouldn’t need to learn any defense techniques myself. But look—”

  To Louisa’s astonishment and horror, Kate unpinned the fichu from around her neck, revealing yellowing bruises that bloomed and darkened like a crude necklace against her milk-white skin.

  “Someone tried to strangle me.”

  Louisa sat down abruptly on a nearby chair. Her fingertips brushed her own throat, and suddenly, she had difficulty swallowing. “Who?” she managed.

  Kate shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Well, actually, that’s not quite true. It seems I have annoyed someone in the government.”

  Louisa gasped. “I cannot believe that in a civilized society such as ours the government could have a lady of quality killed because she had ‘annoyed’ them.”

  Sighing, Kate said, “Well, I have done a little worse than annoy them, actually.” Her gaze flickered to her hands, which twisted in her lap. “You see, my brother is in prison because he won’t tell the government where suspected arsonists are hiding. He is a simple country vicar, no danger to anyone at all.”

  “In prison?” said Louisa. “How dreadful.” Arsonists? Did she refer to the fire at Lyle? No wonder Lady Kate had been desperate. And no wonder Max refused to help her brother. He was determined to track down the rebels who had burned the family pile.

  Lady Kate said, “And the worst of it is, they don’t need to bring my brother to trial under these new laws. They can hold him indefinitely. You see why I was desperate. I’ve threatened to expose certain members of Parliament for the rogues they are if they don’t release my brother.”

  What a story! And what courage Kate must have to confront h
er brother’s persecutors like that. “You are very brave. I wish I had half your courage,” said Louisa. “So that’s why Max put you in this tower.”

  “Yes, but I feel . . .” Kate rubbed her arms and shivered. “I feel even more vulnerable here. Like a sitting target.”

  Staunchly, Louisa said, “My dear, Max will not fail you. He is experienced in these matters, and to my knowledge, no one has bested him yet.” She stood. “I’ll leave you now, but I’ll be back with a basket of food and those books.”

  AFTER reading one page of that diary, all the blood left in Max’s brain. He could barely see straight. These were the writings of the virtuous Lady Kate?

  A red mist descended over his eyes as he read on. This mystery lover—who was he? Somehow, Max had been convinced Lady Kate was faithful to her dull dog of a husband, yet it seemed she’d played him false from the beginning.

  Max flicked through to the end. The entries were sporadic, covering many years and they stopped a few months earlier. Had she begun another journal? Or had she given her lover his congé?

  He lowered the sheaf of papers to his lap and tipped his head back against the chair, breathing deeply. He was so torn between unbridled lust and raging jealousy, he didn’t know if he could keep reading.

  This couldn’t be the diary she’d spoken of, the one in which she’d recorded sensitive government information. He passed the members of the cabinet through his mind. No, he couldn’t imagine any of the present government in the role of this mystery lover.

  But something impelled him to go on. Knowing it was a violation, knowing that if she discovered what he’d done she’d never forgive him. He needed to read it. He needed to know.

  He turned the page and lowered his gaze.

  The library door wrenched open. “By God, I’m going to strangle that chit one day.”

  Romney stormed in and headed straight to the drinks tray.

  Oh, hell! Max flipped over the papers and laid them in his lap, hiding an erection of truly massive proportions. Damn it, he should have gone to his bedchamber for some privacy.