The Forgotten Duke

by Sophie Barnes

  “I’ll figure it out,” he murmured.

  “Carlton, I—” Blayne’s voice broke through the silence with the force of a plough. “Ach, I’m sorry.” Having fully entered the room now, he’d lowered his voice upon spotting Regina. Guthrie narrowed his gaze at his friend and was instantly met by a broad smile. “She hasnae even been here a full day and you’re already watching her sleep.”

  “I was merely curious to know which book she decided to read,” Carlton grumbled. Making a show of prying it carefully out from beneath her hand, he glanced at the cover and nodded. “Pride an’ Prejudice. No surprise there.”

  “No,” Blayne agreed. “What’s surprising is that you would happen to own that particular novel.”

  Feeling unstable, like a new foal attempting to find its legs and not caring for the experience one bit, Carlton frowned. “The women who visit me here need somethin’ that suits their tastes as well. It can’t all be history an’ philosophy.”

  Blayne gave a low snort. “I hardly think the women who frequent your rooms are coming here to read. Now,” he changed the subject with the swiftness of a buzzard catching a mouse, “we’ve gotten a couple of lads to do as you asked. They’ve been told not to lurk, so I’m hoping they’ll manage to look inconspicuous. I’ll check back with them tomorrow and—”

  A rap at the open door interrupted the conversation. “Begging your pardon,” Patrick said as he leaned forward to address them. But rather than keep on speaking, his eyes went straight to Regina.

  Bothered by the interest he saw in the younger man’s face, Carlton stepped directly in front of her, blocking her from his view. “Ye were sayin’?” He asked in a voice too tight to sound nonchalant. Hell, he could almost hear Blayne grinning at his protective behavior.

  Patrick’s eyebrows shot upward. “Right. Err. Mrs. Harding’s waiting for you in your office. She seems agitated.”

  “Tell her I’ll be right there.” He waited for Patrick to leave before turning to Blayne. “Get out.”

  “Must I?” Blayne made a show of skulking toward the door. “I’d so much rather stay and watch you fall in love.”

  “I. Am. Not. Falling. In…” It was too late. Blayne was already gone, no doubt laughing all the way to wherever his hulking body would take him next. Annoyed by the teasing, Carlton raked his fingers through his hair. He then went to collect a blanket and tucked it carefully around Regina’s slender body.

  Love indeed.

  What a ridiculous notion.

  He barely knew the woman. Had only met her that morning. He shook his head and turned away from her with a curse. Trust Blayne to take what little kindness he was willing to give and turn it into something that would never exist. Why couldn’t he show a young lady some sympathy without being accused of wanting her in some way?

  But you do want her, you scoundrel.

  Of course he bloody well did. He was a man in his prime after all and she…she was a gorgeous young woman with curves that made his fingers itch with the need to explore her. But he wouldn’t, because he wasn’t a bloody animal.

  Annoyed, he forced his thoughts away from Regina and descended the stairs.

  Curious to know what Philipa wanted, Carlton entered his office and instantly knew that the world must be ending if her stricken expression was anything to go by. “What’s happened?” he asked, getting straight to the point. “When we parted ways twenty minutes ago ye looked well.”

  “That was before I discovered that one of my girls has gone missing.”

  4

  An odd press and release of her belly woke Regina from her nap. Squinting, she saw that the strange sensation was caused by Guthrie’s cat. The feline had decided to take a walk on her and was now pawing and circling as if preparing to settle down.

  “You should have joined me earlier.” She allowed her hand to slide slowly across the creature’s back, chuckling in response to the deep purr that followed. “I probably ought to get up though.”

  Opening her eyes more fully, Regina noticed the fluffy wool blanket in which she had been cocooned. Frowning, she pushed herself into a sitting position. Was it possible Guthrie had done this? She could hardly credit it. And yet she could not imagine that anyone else here would treat her with such consideration. An odd blend of pleasure and wariness assailed her, so she rose from the sofa and quickly spotted the clothes he’d brought her. Relieved by the distraction they offered, she picked each garment up one by one and held it out to gauge its shape and size. Everything would do, except one of the day dresses which looked as though it was meant to contain a much larger bosom.

  Biting her lip, Regina wondered if she might be able to remove her wedding gown by herself. She twisted one arm behind her, but quickly realized the buttons ran too high for her to reach. Forcing out a breath, she swept a stray lock behind her ear and went to the door. When she opened it she almost collided with MacNeil, who materialized before her like a wall that could not be scaled.

  “May I help you with something, my lady?”

  In spite of the soft, gentle manner in which he addressed her, he still made her take a step back. She raised her chin since speaking to his chest felt both silly and cowardly. “Mr. Guthrie mentioned a maid who might be able to assist me.”

  MacNeil nodded. “Wait here while I find her for you.” He turned to go, then paused and turned back to face her. “Is there anything else I can get for you while I’m downstairs? More food or perhaps some tea?”

  “Some tea would be lovely. Thank you.”

  He smiled – an odd grimace that didn’t suit him at all – then disappeared in the direction of the stairs.

  A shrill meow and the feel of something pressing against her legs caused Regina to drop her gaze to Guthrie’s cat. Green eyes met hers and the cat meowed again as it curled itself around her, seeking attention. Regina scooped it up in her arms and gave it a loving scratch behind one of its ears. She then turned back into the room and shut the door.

  By now, her father would likely be tearing his hair out in frustration while cursing her to perdition. Her breath trembled on that thought, of risking her family’s reputation and of being a disappointment. And poor Marcus. He would worry over her endlessly until he knew she was safe, which meant that she had to get word to him somehow.

  And then once that was done, she would have to think of some way to get out of this mess. She certainly couldn’t remain here forever, no matter how hospitable Guthrie might be. In fact, the sooner she left, the better, since every second spent here increased the chance of the most calamitous scandal befalling her family.

  Perhaps…

  She returned to the sofa with the beginnings of an idea only to have it interrupted by a loud rap on the door.

  MacNeil entered, bringing with him a young woman with a slender build whose eyes expanded to the size of scones when she spotted Regina. In her hands, she held a welcoming tea tray.

  “Blimey,” the woman muttered, then promptly bowed her head and attempted an awkward curtsey. “I mean, I beg yer pardon yer lovely ladyship.”

  MacNeil stared at her for a brief second as if she’d recited Shakespeare in Latin. He then turned his serious gaze on Regina. “This is Laura. She won’t be what you’re used to and you may need to teach her a thing or two about ladies things, but she’ll get the job done.”

  Having risen during this exchange, Regina thanked MacNeil and waited until he was gone before moving closer to Laura. She’d set the tray on the sofa table and was now fidgeting with her apron. She seemed incapable of focusing her gaze on one fixed point.

  “You must call me Regina.”

  That got Laura’s attention. “I couldn’t possibly. I mean, ye look like a princess an’ I—”

  “Will hardly look much different than me once I get out of this increasingly uncomfortable gown and put on a plain dress.”

  Laura smiled with the sort of shyness that suggested she wasn’t sure how much she could say before causing offense. “Beggin’ ye
r pardon, but ye could likely wear a coarse brown sack an’ ye’d still look lovely. Yer face alone is like that of an angel.”

  “Thank you. It’s very kind of you to say so. But how I look and who I am doesn’t matter so much right now.” Circling around Laura, Regina retrieved one of the gowns Guthrie had brought her. “What I need most of all is a friend who can help me fit in. So please, call me Regina and I’ll call you Laura. If you permit.”

  “Oh, indeed. I’d be honored, me lady. I mean Regina,” Laura amended when Regina raised an eyebrow.

  “Excellent. Now what do you think of this dress? Will the dove grey suit or should I put on the rust colored one instead?”

  Laura appeared to consider the question most seriously before recommending the dove grey option. She then helped Regina out of the wedding gown and into her new dress.

  “He’s not as bad as people think him to be, is he?” Regina asked a bit later while Laura did up the buttons on her back.

  “Do you mean Guthrie?” Laura’s cheerful tone conveyed her eagerness to chat.

  Regina nodded. “Considering all the things I’ve read in the papers about him, how he’s suspected of blackmail, causing people to disappear, thievery…I expected him to be…”

  “Less nice?”

  A laugh forced its way past Regina’s lips. “I suppose so.”

  “Well, if there’s one thing I can tell ye, it’s that I’ve not met a man more just or ‘onorable than Mr. Guthrie. He’s good to the people who work for ‘im but he’s also harsh on those who deserve it.” She patted Regina on the back to inform her that she was finished with her task.

  Regina turned. “Is he also known for being charitable?” she asked in an effort to understand his treatment of her more fully.

  Laura frowned. “Not exactly. I mean, he’ll give a coin ‘ere or there to a beggar in need, but for the most part, he believes in encouragin’ people to earn their way. He’ll rather offer a job than a handout.” As if made cautious by something she saw in Regina’s expression, Laura smiled brightly and hastened to add, “But he’s not the sort to turn ‘is back on a woman in need either. Now, I hope ye don’t mind me saying this, um…Regina…but if there’s nothin’ else ye need help with right now, I’ve a few things to do downstairs.”

  “Of course,” Regina muttered. “You mustn’t let me keep you.”

  Laura needed no further urging and promptly departed.

  Regina remained where she stood for a long moment. The respect Laura had for Guthrie increased Regina’s curiosity. It was clear that the papers had striven to turn him into a monster when he appeared to be anything but. But why would they do that unless they’d been given a reason?

  A frown tightened her brow as a more pressing thought presented itself. If Guthrie wasn’t known for being charitable, then there was a chance he’d been lying when he’d told her he was trying to make amends for past misdeeds. Which made her wonder what he really wanted from her and why he was willing to let her disturb his life.

  Shivering, she decided to figure that out, if for no other reason than to satisfy her own curiosity.

  Carlton’s shoes played an even beat upon the pavement as he made his way back toward The Black Swan. His gait was slow, his steps measured, and his gaze constantly searching so he wouldn’t miss anything. All day he’d been out making inquiries, hoping that when he returned, he’d have some news for Philipa.

  He knew the girl who’d gone missing well since he’d paid for her company on a few occasions over the years. Her name was Scarlet, and like all of Philipa’s girls, she was more than a skilled courtesan. She also had a mind for business and was simply doing whatever she had to until she saved enough blunt to open a florist shop of her own. In the meantime, Philipa kept her safe. As with all her girls, she made sure they ate well, were properly clothed, slept in comfortable beds, and received monthly checkups at the St. Giles clinic. To think something tragic might have happened to any of these women gutted him. But as he’d explained to Philipa, it was possible Scarlet had simply decided to walk away. It happened. Didn’t it? Regina was proof that even the least likely person could do the unexpected, given the right reason.

  Spotting a hunched woman huddled against a doorway, he approached her as he’d approached so many others already. “I don’t suppose ye saw a young woman last night. Brown hair, about this tall an’ wearin’ a crimson dress?” She’d been out acquiring clients, as the women so often did, and hadn’t returned.

  “Nah. But there were a carriage. Came clattering through here like it were trying to win a race or something.”

  Carlton bent closer and peered into the woman’s creased face. “Which way did it go?”

  Raising one hand, she pointed in the direction of Drury Lane. “Turned right at the end of the street. Toward Holborn.”

  Straightening, Carlton wondered if there could be a connection between the carriage and Scarlet’s disappearance. If so, she might simply have struck a deal with a toff who wanted his rendezvous with her to be discreet. Some of these men had peculiar needs, and if one found the right woman willing to satisfy them, he might choose to keep her a while before letting her go.

  Or perhaps the carriage meant nothing. Either way, it gave Carlton no indication of where to look next or if continuing his search was reasonable. At least he’d be able to tell Philipa that Bow Street hadn’t been alerted to the death of a woman matching Scarlet’s description. Neither had the coroner’s office or the nearest hospitals or clinics. The last person he knew of who’d seen her alive was a boy who’d been on his way home for supper last night. He claimed to have passed her on Monmouth Street and had told Carlton that she’d been alone at the time.

  Reaching into his jacket pocket, Carlton retrieved a sovereign and handed it to the old woman. “Thank ye fer the information.” Doffing his hat, he continued toward Parker’s Lane where The Black Swan was located.

  It would be good to get home to a hot meal. After he’d walked about for most of the day, his shoes were starting to squeeze his toes. Carlton looked forward to getting them off and putting his feet up. Perhaps he’d ask Regina for a wee foot rub. He grinned at the thought of how she would respond to such an outrageous suggestion. Her entire face would turn a deep shade of pink and then she’d probably storm from the room. Or maybe she’d give him the set down that he deserved.

  Not that he actually cared.

  Deliberately, he schooled his features. He wasn’t walking faster now than before and if he was, it certainly wasn’t because of any desire he had to see her again. He would not wonder how she’d spent her day or if she could be happy while under his roof. None of that mattered.

  She didn’t matter.

  Except in one regard.

  So then why did his skin grow warmer as he approached The Black Swan’s entrance? And why had his belly turned into something that felt more like jelly than stone? Yes, she was pretty and desirable, but he’d met his fair share of such women before. Hell, he’d taken most of them to his bed. As far as his sexual appetites went, they were sated, so it wasn’t because he needed a woman and Regina just happened to be there that he was feeling unstable around her.

  So then what?

  Her purity certainly appealed. As a man with a blackened soul, it was only natural that he’d be drawn to that. Wasn’t it? An unpleasant smell of rot and sewage climbed up his nose and he winced. Would she even welcome his advances if he were to make them? And why the bloody hell was he even wondering about that?

  By the time he entered The Black Swan he’d thrust the thought from his mind, only to have it resurface with a vengeance the moment he saw her. The emotions that banged against him, like the clapper hitting the dome of a bell, were so numerous he found it impossible to focus on a singular one alone.

  What he did know was that he might strangle Blayne, Patrick, and Claus for letting her come downstairs to the taproom. Because while they were all busy playing cards, they’d failed to notice the interest all the men in
the damned place had taken in her.

  Carlton clenched his fists, ready to beat every one of them to a mangled mess. She was just a means to an end, he reminded himself. And yet he could not stop from feeling like a pirate who’d stolen her away from her gilded tower to claim her as his own.

  A muscle twitched deep in his belly and heat flashed against his skin, and in that instant, he realized the danger he was facing. Because he’d never wanted a woman as much as he wanted her. He wanted to bask in her beauty, surround himself with her goodness, savor the wanton gasps he knew she’d emit as he gave her pleasure.

  But it could never be. His soul was too corrupt, his heart completely lacking, and she too perfect for a man like him. He’d resist her even if it killed him, because that was the least he could do after what he was going to put her through.

  She laughed and Carlton watched as several men eyed her like boys receiving a sweetmeat for the first time. Muscles flexing, he strode forward until he reached the table at which she sat, her eyes bright with the victory she’d just won over his men.

  “What do ye think ye’re doin?” His voice was dangerously low.

  She looked up, surprise evident in her expression. And then she smiled, the most glorious smile he’d ever seen, and it was directed at him. “Learning how to gamble,” she said, offering him a glimpse of her perfectly white teeth as the smile transformed to a grin. “Apparently I’m rather good at it.”

  Feeling as if the floor tilted beneath his feet, Guthrie grabbed the back of the chair on which Blayne sat and prayed he wouldn’t fall over. Wasn’t the whole weak-kneed thing supposed to be reserved for women?

  He clenched his jaw and gave them all his most disapproving glower. “Ye shouldn’t be down here, me lady. ‘Tis not safe.”

  Her eyes widened in response to his tone. “But I’m not—”

  “There’s a table full o’ toffs just over there in that corner behind ye an’ ye’re not exactly keepin’ a low profile,” he told her tersely.