What Desire Demands, My Duke: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Olivia T. Bennet

  That only deepened James’ confusion.

  So, does that mean his name is not Mr. Wilson? Just who is this man?

  Mr. Wilson sat smiling on the other end of the desk as if he could read James’ mind and was enjoying every bit of his bewilderment. “So, My Lord,” Mr. Wilson went on. “I take it this is all the information you wanted, and you are no longer in need of my services?”

  The way he asked the question had James’ guard rising. He didn’t like that in the slightest. As the seconds wore on, it felt as if he was losing the control here, even though he was the one in power.

  “It appears you have something else in mind,” James asked slowly, watching him.

  Mr. Wilson nodded. “Lady Elizabeth is your betrothed, is she not? And here she is, with another gentleman. I do not need to ask how much this upsets you because I can already see the rage just under the surface. And, as it were, My Lord, there are other services I am willing to provide.”

  “Other services?” There was no longer a phantom battle of wills. There was no longer any confusion. In that moment, James accepted the fact that the man he’d first met had been a façade and his true colors were coming to the fore. This man, known by many names, was a dangerous one and that was all James needed to know.

  As if Mr. Wilson noticed the glint in James’ eye, he continued with excitement tingeing his voice. “I can make sure that this matter disappears. You will not have to suffer at the hands of a traitorous lady and a rake who likes to paw those who belong to another.”

  James didn’t have to ask what exactly he meant by “making sure the matter disappeared.” He could already feel his skin prickling under the force of his vengeance, his limbs poised to take out his anger on those who had wronged him. It was one thing to insult his pride, to treat him as if he was nothing more than the dirt under their boot. But it was another thing entirely to threaten his reputation, which he’d spent so long building and perfecting, that would crumble at their hands. He simply wouldn’t allow it.

  The expected words of the ton once they caught wind of this continued to echo in his head.

  Poor Lord Horenwall...poor Lord Horenwall...poor Lord Horenwall...

  The past came rushing back—the eyes that had followed him when he was younger, the whispers, the shame knowing what his parents had done. After all the work he’d put in to re-establish his reputation, he wouldn’t allow the actions of a foolish woman to undo it all.

  Being born to a woman who’d been forced to leave her station as a maid because she’d become with child from an Earl. Living his life as an outcast, never being able to fit in to any group—as commoner nor as noble. Forcing his way into his father’s life and letting him claim him as his heir on his deathbed since he had no other sons. James did all he could to make sure he’d lived the life he deserved and he wouldn’t let a scandal shove him back into that dark place.

  James could see nothing but red now, drawing his attention back to the man sitting before him. “Do it,” he ordered in a low growl. “I’ll pay you whatever you need.”

  A wide grin split Mr. Wilson’s face in two. “I assure you, My Lord, you will be quite pleased by our results. Now, I believe that our meeting is over?”

  Not waiting for a response, Mr. Wilson picked up his briefcase and rose. He fiddled with his uneven cravat before he gave James a bow. “It has been a pleasure, My Lord,” he said before turning towards the door.

  James didn’t speak again until the private investigator had almost made it outside. “There is just one thing,” he murmured, his anger trembling throughout his body. “I will take care of Lady Elizabeth myself. And you…no one will know of our agreements.”

  Mr. Wilson was quiet for a moment, not understanding. But when realization dawned on him, he grinned wickedly and tilted his head in another bow. “As you wish, My Lord. They do not call me the Shadow for nothing.”

  A chill rushed through Elizabeth’s body with such force that she visibly shuddered. Minnie paused in the process of pulling the pins from Elizabeth’s hair, looking at Elizabeth in surprise and worry. “Is something wrong, My Lady?” she asked.

  Elizabeth relaxed slowly, staring at her image in the mirror before her. Sunset fell around the manor, bathing her bedchamber in a soft orange glow. It had been a very peaceful moment—until a while ago when she’d been hit with the sudden feeling that something bad was going to happen.

  “Y-yes,” she said uneasily, realizing that Minnie was still waiting for a response. “I think I am just a bit cold.”

  “Oh, please forgive me!” Minnie said frantically, rushing away from Elizabeth to pull the drapes closed. Elizabeth watched her from the mirror, trying to shove aside that uneasy feeling.

  Why do I feel like this? Is it because I still don’t know how best to approach Father and Lord Horenwall?

  That had to be the reason for sudden anxious state. Just yesterday, right after they’d returned to the manor, William had left again after dinner. He claimed he had a matter to take care of in Bedfordshire and that he might be away for a few days. Elizabeth had told herself that a few days away from him was nothing. She’d been apart from him for five years, so a couple of days would be very easy to handle. But now, she wished he was here.

  I should relax. No one knows I’m here and there is no use paying attention to this irrational feeling that came out of nowhere.

  She repeated that to herself as Minnie returned to her side. “Is that better, My Lady?” Minnie asked, still sounding concerned. “Would you like me to light the hearth?”

  “No, that’s quite all right,” Elizabeth told her kindly. “You’ve done more than enough.”

  The worried look in Minnie’s eyes didn’t clear much, but she did as she was told, resuming her task of bringing Elizabeth’s hair down. Once all the pins were out, her hair tumbled down to her shoulders and Minnie picked up the boar-bristle hairbrush and proceeded to run it through Elizabeth’s hair.

  William should be returning tomorrow evening. Elizabeth was beginning to feel a bit restless, that apprehensive feeling not disappearing at all. She would feel better if he was here. At least, she wouldn’t have to crawl into bed on her own, but could fall asleep in his arms.

  Just be patient. He will return soon. We’ll decide how to approach Father soon. And we will think of how we can best break the news to Lord Horenwall soon. There’s no need to be so on edge.

  “I’m finished, My Lady,” Minnie said, cutting into her thoughts. She put the brush back on the vanity table and stepped away. Elizabeth looked at her through the mirror, giving her a smile.

  “Thank you, Minnie. You’ve made my stay here quite welcoming.”

  Despite the growing darkness, Elizabeth caught sight of the pink that brightened Minnie’s cheeks. She bowed her head a bit. “I did nothing, My Lady.”

  “How modest of you to say. You’ve been a wonderful friend to me and for that, I am grateful.”

  “W-well, you’re welcome, My Lady.” Minnie paused for a moment then spoke again. “Are you going somewhere, Lady Elizabeth?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “It sounds as if you’re making your farewells,” Minnie admitted in a soft voice.

  Elizabeth smiled. Rising, she turned to face the lady’s maid. “There’s no need to look so downcast,” she told her gently. “Even if I might be leaving this manor, I have every intention of coming back. I wouldn’t leave you behind.”

  Minnie lifted her gaze, tentative, hopeful. Elizabeth smiled brightly at her, and felt a bit of that trepidation from earlier dissipate. “I understand, My Lady,” Minnie said with a small smile of her own.

  “There is one more thing I would like to ask of you,” Elizabeth said.

  Minnie’s brows raised slightly in question. “Yes, My Lady?”

  “I would like a few sheets of paper and a quill,” Elizabeth said. “Could you bring this to me?”

  “Certainly, My Lady!” Minnie was already rushing to the door, eager.

&nbs
p; Elizabeth couldn’t help laughing at Minnie’s willingness to do whatever she could for her. She hadn’t been lying before. She did plan on returning to the manor, as the Duchess of Brandon this time. But before then…

  Elizabeth returned to the vanity table, her nightgown shifting around her body. The tension was creeping back into her limbs, the urge to do something. She didn’t want to leave everything up to William. It was her father; Lord Horenwall was her betrothed. She had to do something, rather than hide behind William, which she was sure he was expecting her to do.

  Soon enough, Minnie returned bearing the sheets of paper, a quill, and a pot of ink, resting it on the desk by Elizabeth’s armoire. Then, as Elizabeth went over to claim the seat behind the desk, Minnie went through the room lighting more candles, putting a few more than usual at the desk. Elizabeth hadn’t even realized that she’d been sitting in semi-darkness the entire time without only two candles on the vanity table to light the room.

  Minnie bid her goodnight before leaving the room for good this time, leaving Elizabeth to her thoughts once more. Once she was gone, Elizabeth turned her attention to the blank pieces of paper.

  She didn’t know how to begin.

  She should at least tell her father that she was fine, that she was planning on returning home soon. That, at least, would help to lessen his shock when she came back to him with William by her side—she hoped. But she didn’t know how to begin it.

  She began the salutations, addressing it casually it at first. Before she could begin the first sentence, she crossed it out and shoved the paper to the side. She didn’t have much paper on hand to waste, so she knew she didn’t have much room for error.

  So, this time, she sat and deliberated how best to begin and still came up with nothing. It was unusual not knowing what to say to her own father. He’d always been quite easy to talk to, a jovial man who had the power to make her feel relaxed in nearly any situation. But this time, knowing just how upset and disappointed he was likely to be with her, Elizabeth couldn’t bring herself to write anything. Her mind had gone utterly blank.

  “Oh, heavens, Elizabeth, stop being a coward,” she chided, annoyed with herself. She left the pen in the pot of ink and stood. “A walk should clear my head somewhat.”

  Picking up one of the candles on the table, she made her way to the door and slipped out. She didn’t know where exactly where she should go, so she headed down the hallway towards the front of the manor.

  The memory of the last time she’d decided to go for a walk so late whispered through her mind, bringing a smile to her lips. She’d been so frustrated by her thoughts that night, only to find herself within William’s bed shortly after. Looking back, it was almost impossible to believe how quickly things had shifted.

  But perhaps a part of her had known his true feelings all along, even though his words and actions hurt her deeply. Perhaps that was the reason she’d forgiven him so easily, why she’d accepted him without any hesitation. Because underneath it all, she could still see the angry boy who’d been standing by his mother’s grave.

  A shadow went by in the distance. Elizabeth drew to a halt, her heart flying to her throat. “Who’s there?” she called out without thinking. It was certainly one of the help, she knew, but she couldn’t stop the fear bleeding through her veins.

  The shadow came to a halt, then drew closer. Elizabeth swallowed harshly, preparing to run. She didn’t question the irrational reaction, didn’t think twice about why she was so on edge. But when Harold stepped into the glow of her candlelight, Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief, realizing how foolish she was acting.

  “Harold,” Elizabeth sighed. “What are you doing lurking in the dark?”

  “I was contemplating something, My Lady,” Harold stated. As usual, his gaze rested slightly over her shoulder. Elizabeth had figured out only a short while ago that it was because his vision was impaired, and when she’d asked William about it yesterday, he’d agreed.

  “What’s that?” she asked. Harold’s voice was the same as it always was, but the fact that he was acting so oddly was reason enough to be on edge again.

  Harold held out a small slip of paper. “This just arrived a short while ago. Considering how late it was, and the fact that His Grace is not present, I took it upon myself to scan its contents. After I read it, I did not think it was something I should keep to myself, so I’ve decided to inform you of this, as well. It is quite distressing.”

  “Distressing?” Elizabeth echoed as she reached for the paper. It was folded, a simple note. For some reason, that increased her apprehension. “What did it say?”

  “Please,” Harold said, reaching for the candle in her hand. “See for yourself, My Lady.”

  Elizabeth couldn’t get much from his expression, nor his tone. So, taking his words at face value, she was already dreading opening this note, but she did so all the same.

  Only four words were scribbled on it: I’m coming for you.

  Dread sank within her like large boulders, rooting her to the spot. She could only read the words over and over again, not wanting to believe that this had been sent with ill-intent. But it was not signed, not addressed to anyone in particular. And for some reason, the terrible scrawl was enough to convince her that this was a threat.

  “Do you know who sent this?” she asked Harold, looking up at his impassive face. He’d been here for quite long, so perhaps he had a clue.

  But he shook his head. “Unfortunately not, My Lady. The post boy was simply a ratty child who scurried off the moment the note was out of his hands. It may very well be someone disreputable, or someone who wished to hide his identity and sent it through an unusual route. No one comes to mind, unfortunately.”

  But a few ideas did come to hers. Elizabeth refolded the paper and reclaimed the candle from Harold. “Thank you for sharing this with me, Harold.”

  He nodded. “I understand that you have His Grace’s interest at heart, and that you have become entwined with this household as a result. As such, you are as important to me as His Grace is.”

  She hadn’t expected to feel so happy hearing that. First Minnie, now Harold. “Thank you, Harold. I shall take this note along with me and will share it with His Grace when he returns on the morrow. Please, have a good night.”

  “You as well, My Lady.”

  Harold bowed deeply, his body almost perpendicular to the floor. Elizabeth might have smiled at the sight had she not been struggling to tamp down the unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach. She turned back the way she’d come and began making her way to her bedchamber. There would be no walk tonight and no letter writing. She knew there was no longer any hope of that.

  Her mind was a riotous mess, with so many things rushing to her head at once that she could hardly process them all. It wasn’t until she’d returned to her bedchamber, until she’d left the note on the desk, blew out all the candles save for the ones by her bed and crawled into bed, that she finally let herself focus on that one feeling twisting painfully within her.

  I’m coming for you.

  Elizabeth knew this might not be the case, that William might have made his own share of enemies that were just as likely to send something so ominous. But she couldn’t chase the feeling away.

  She could think of only person who would want to find her, who was most likely to send such a thing—James Stone, the Earl of Horenwall.

  Chapter 21

  The moment William walked in through the doors, Harold met him with an unusual look. Normally, the butler’s face was unmoving, his eyes trained right over William’s shoulders. He would greet William, offer to take his coat, and update him of anything he needed to know.

  But this time, Harold wore a slight frown, so faint that William wondered if he’d seen right.

  “Welcome back, Your Grace,” Harold greeted. He bowed deeply and straightened.

  William frowned, tensing. Unbidden, the worst possible situations sprang to this mind, all of them involving just one
person.

  “What is it? Is it Elizabeth?”

  The slight frown cleared from Harold’s brow. “Lady Elizabeth is fine. She is waiting for you in the drawing room.”

  Relief rushed through him. He let out a deep breath, then refocused his attention on Harold. If it wasn’t Elizabeth, then…

  “What’s the matter then? It isn’t like you to be so cryptic.”

  Harold shook his head. “There is a matter that requires your attention, Your Grace, but I shall leave it to Lady Elizabeth to explain.”

  Instantly, the unease and fear came back, making William’s throat grow tight. It had been almost two days since he’d last seen Elizabeth and he’d managed to return this early only because he’d cut his visit to the estate short. Somehow, he’d managed to salvage what little faith the help had in the Brandon Dukedom, promising to pay all that was owed to them along with a slight raise. Then, he’d left Samuel behind to handle replacing those who had left.