The Forgotten Duke

by Sophie Barnes

  He was dismissing her. And as much as that stung, Regina sensed they’d make no progress with this discussion tonight. So she crossed to the bedchamber door and turned back to face him. “Good night, Carlton. I hope you sleep well.”

  He merely watched her in silence while she closed the door between them and turned the lock.

  With thoughts of Carlton, the argument they’d had, and the missing women still tumbling through her head, it took a while to fall asleep. But eventually, Regina did sink into oblivion. She even managed to have a nice dream that lasted until she was startled awake by a bone-jarring banging which felt as though someone was beating her head with a mallet. Still mostly asleep, she rolled onto her stomach and pulled her pillow over her head in an effort to block out the sound. But it was relentless and as it brought her more awake, she realized that it was accompanied by shouting, though this seemed to come from a different direction.

  Groggily, Regina opened one eye and squinted into the darkness. It was still night, she judged, based on the deep purple hue cloaking the room. More banging and shouting had her tossing the covers aside and rising to wobbly legs. She took a second to regain her balance while growing increasingly confused. It almost sounded like a group of wild animals had been let loose in Carlton’s parlor.

  Yawning, she rubbed her eyes and then crossed to the door. All had gone silent now, except for the shouting which still continued, albeit with less force than before. It sounded as if MacNeil was trying to get Carlton to open his door from the hallway. Which seemed strange. She pressed her ear to her own door and listened. There was nothing now. No indication of what had been going on in the parlor. Briefly, she wondered if she ought to check. Perhaps Carlton needed her help? But then surely he would have opened his door to MacNeil. The fact that he wouldn’t was perhaps the oddest thing of all.

  She knit her brow and stared at the key that stuck out of the lock. Hesitantly, she reached for it, then leapt back with a start when the door handle suddenly moved. A jarring bang followed, and then another.

  “Let me in damn ye!”

  Regina edged backward, away from the door and the man who stood on the opposite side. He sounded nothing like the one she had gotten to know, but cruel and demanding. Swallowing, she glanced at the other door to her room. The one leading out onto the walkway.

  Another yell sounded from Carlton. “Ye’ll not get away with it, ye bastard. I’ll cut yer bloody throat if it’s the last thing I do!”

  Regina’s heart thumped rapidly against her ribs, like a trapped animal trying to escape its cage. Her stomach twisted and her hands began to tremble as panic set in and confusion twisted her brain. Was the door strong enough to keep him at bay? More banging followed. More shouting. What would happen if he broke into her room? Would seeing her make him snap out of his madness or would he do to her what he intended to do to the person he believed he was chasing?

  Perspiration dampened her skin. She shivered and cast her gaze about for something to use as a weapon – something to at least hold between him and her body. But there was nothing and the banging was only getting louder, drowning out the sound of MacNeil’s voice. It caused dread to sink deeper into Regina’s bones, which in turn prompted her to make a decision.

  She ran to the other door and unlocked it. “MacNeil,” she shouted, not caring that she only wore her nightgown or that MacNeil wasn’t alone. Patrick and Claus stood behind him.

  MacNeil turned in response to her call and began coming toward her. “I’m sorry for the noise, my lady, but it canae be helped.”

  “He’s trying to break down my door and threatening to commit murder.” She met MacNeil’s gaze as boldly as she could and demanded, “Why?”

  “He’s having a nightmare,” MacNeil explained.

  Regina’s eyes widened. “That,” she pointed in the direction of Carlton’s parlor, “is a bit more dramatic than a nightmare.”

  MacNeil frowned. “I’ll agree that I’ve never seen anyone experience episodes as severe as the ones Guthrie’s prone to, but that’s what’s happening. If you’ll grant me access, I can get to him through your bedchamber and try to wake him from it.”

  Stepping aside, she let the Scotsman into the room. Patrick and Claus followed but only Patrick made eye contact with her, causing a wave of unease to wash through her. There was just something about him that put her on edge.

  Claus kept his gaze trained on where he was going as he went to stand at MacNeil’s left shoulder. Patrick set the oil lamp he’d brought along on top of the dresser and positioned himself across from MacNeil. Once the men had made sure Regina was as far away from the door as possible, MacNeil turned the key. The click that followed seemed louder than usual. Regina pressed herself into the wall. Her heart trembled as she sucked in a breath and held it, unsure of what was to come.

  MacNeil eased the door open and peered into the parlor. All Regina could see was his back. It filled the opening and with both Clause and Patrick standing close by, they blocked her entire view. But then a roar sounded – guttural and fierce and not at all human. And before Regina knew what was happening, MacNeil was staggering back as Carlton barreled into him head first.

  MacNeil grunted as air was pushed from his lungs. His body was thrown off balance by the force of Carlton’s attack, so in spite of his greater size, it took him a moment to regain his footing. Which it seemed he was only able to do thanks to Claus and Patrick, who immediately stepped in to help. They pulled at Carlton’s arms, trying to restrain him, but Carlton just beat them away with a blind blow to Patrick’s head and a swipe that caught Clause in the throat. The young man sputtered and coughed, backing away before Carlton could hit him again.

  Regina was tempted to go and make sure Claus was all right, but that would mean passing dangerously close to Carlton and in the state he was presently in, she’d rather not do so.

  “Wake up,” MacNeil shouted. He gave Carlton a solid shove that propelled him toward Patrick. He caught him and held him, allowing MacNeil to land a resounding slap against Carlton’s cheek.

  Regina flinched and averted her gaze, hating the sight of the man she…

  The man she what?

  Cared for? Respected? Enjoyed spending time with?

  The man whose kisses she’d started to crave and with whom she’d begun contemplating a great deal more?

  The way her heart ached at the thought of him suffering like this, of wanting to physically harm whoever it was that made him endure this, suggested that there were stronger emotions at play. Feelings she didn’t dare recognize yet. For she knew that the moment she did, they would bind her to him forever.

  So she focused on all the things she had yet to tell him – parts of herself that she wanted to share when he was more able to listen. Like the fact that she wished she could live by the sea so she’d always hear waves rushing to shore, that she had an almost obsessive fascination with other countries and cultures, and that she would love to travel in order to explore them.

  “Come on,” MacNeil’s voice broke through her thoughts and caused her to glance back in his direction. The Scotsman had somehow managed to maneuver Carlton onto the bed where he held him down with the weight of his body. Carlton wore only breaches and a loose shirt that hadn’t been tucked in, the fabric billowing and bunching as he struggled against MacNeil’s grasp.

  “Ye’ll not win. Do ye hear?” Carlton said as he tried to shove him away.

  “Do you know who he’s fighting?” Regina asked. Sensing the worst of the danger had passed and that Carlton would not be getting back on his own feet until he was fully awake, she moved toward the bed.

  “No.” MacNeil grunted. “Patrick, hold his legs will you? And Claus, try slapping his face to see if that will bring him out of it.”

  “Perhaps a gentler approach would be better,” Regina suggested. She lowered herself to the edge of the mattress. “If he’s fighting someone, you could be making things worse by responding with violence.”

 
“Please go back to where you were before, my lady,” MacNeil implored with a strained voice. “Guthrie’s not himself right now. There’s a chance he might hurt you.”

  Regina was well aware of that. She’d seen what he’d done to his men. Nevertheless, she ignored the advice MacNeil offered and climbed further onto the bed until she was lying down on her side with her face next to Carlton’s.

  “Stubborn woman,” MacNeil muttered. “Restrain his arms, Claus. Don’t let him hit her.”

  Inhaling deeply, Regina tried to calm her breathing. It was so strange, the thought of Carlton being asleep, for in spite of the darkness, she saw that his eyes were open. He bared his teeth and began moving furiously from side to side in an effort to push MacNeil off him. But the Scotsman held fast, allowing Regina to place her hand against Carlton’s cheek.

  She brushed her thumb gently against his temple. “Shhh…” she whispered next to his ear. “Relax. It’s just me. Regina.” When he panted out a series of hard breaths, she added, “You’re safe. There’s no danger, no one to hurt you, no reason for you to be angry.”

  He flinched and she realized too late that she’d said the wrong thing. MacNeil cursed in response to Carlton’s renewed effort to obtain his freedom. But Regina would not be deterred. She’d seen the calming affect her voice had had, if only for a brief moment. So she slid her fingers into Carlton’s hair, stroking and caressing while speaking in soothing tones, much as she imagined she’d do to a wild and terrified animal.

  “I’m here, Carlton.” Shifting closer, she reached for his hand, curled her fingers around his and sensed some of the tension leaving his body. “I’m not going anywhere. Not ever.” She’d made her decision, she realized. It no longer mattered if Yates responded to her letter. A life without Carlton just wasn’t an option. “There’s no walking away. No future for me that does not include you. Please. Wake up so I can kiss you.”

  “I’d like that,” he murmured. His voice was slightly slurry, as if part of him still slept.

  Leaning in, she pressed her lips to his cheek. And was roughly pushed aside when he suddenly jerked to full awareness and tried to sit up, only he couldn’t because he was partially trapped beneath MacNeil’s chest.

  “What the hell?” Carlton blurted. “Get off me, ye brute.”

  “What’s my name?” MacNeil asked.

  “Oh Christ. Did I have one of me episodes?” Appearing to register where he was, he glanced about until he found Regina. “What did I do? Did I hurt ye somehow?”

  “Ach, he’s all right,” MacNeil muttered and withdrew his weight from Carlton’s torso. “You were hollering like a lunatic, Guthrie, and making a hell of a lot of noise too. I wouldnae be surprised if you destroyed half your parlor.”

  Carlton scrubbed his hand across his face and muttered something Regina couldn’t make out. A curse, no doubt. He expelled a deep breath and sat up. The glow from the oil lamp Patrick had set on the dresser barely reached Carlton’s face. The lack of light added a harshness to his features which was further enhanced when he looked at her with the blackest stare she’d ever been subjected to. A shiver raced through her and she instinctively edged back, adding distance with the intention to stand.

  Swiftly, he reached out and snagged her wrist. His eyes hardened as he slid his gaze over her, hovering briefly on her breasts before lowering it to her belly and legs. “Don’t ye dare move.” The command in his voice stayed her actions.

  “Guthrie,” MacNeil said, “We should probably—”

  “Get out.” Guthrie’s words sliced the air with uncanny precision as he turned his attention toward his men. “Get out right now!”

  “You’re welcome,” MacNeil grumbled as he herded the other men out of the room and closed the door behind him.

  “That was both unnecessary and rude after everything they just did to help you.”

  “Rude, I’ll agree. But unnecessary? No.” He tugged her roughly toward him and pressed his mouth to hers, kissing her hard and deep and with the possessiveness of a man who was trying to stake his claim.

  Her body responded without hesitation, as if it had been in deep hibernation and he’d just roused it from its wintery slumber. Heat poured through her and all she could do was surrender, giving as he gave in equal measure until she grew desperate for more. His hand found her waist and curved into her flesh, rumpling the nightgown she now wished he’d tear from her body. But just as abruptly as he’d grabbed her, he released her and stood.

  Regina’s mind whirled. She felt dizzy and…and unfulfilled.

  “Ye need to think before ye act,” Carlton told her.

  She blinked. “What?”

  He glared at her as if she’d just committed some horrible sin. Jaw tight, his lips drawn into an angry line and with shadows obscuring his brow, he looked like the menacing scoundrel that he was reputed to be. Even so, Regina did not fear him. She just wasn’t sure she completely understood why he was so upset.

  Until he said, “I’ll not have ye showin’ other men yer body.” Disapproval tightened his words. “Fer Christ sake, Regina, I can see yer tits through that sheer fabric.”

  Fire erupted all over her face, burning her skin as she hurried to find some means of covering herself. It wasn’t so much the crassness with which he’d just spoken, or even the fact that he’d seen more of her than he should have, that bothered her. It was realizing how much MacNeil, Patrick, and Claus must have seen that embarrassed her most. How on earth was she going to face them again?

  As for Carlton, he just continued to glare at her censoriously as she pulled the blanket off the bed and wrapped it around her body. He raised an eyebrow. “A bit late fer modesty, wouldn’t ye say?”

  Swallowing, she raised her chin a notch. “Perhaps. But I cannot have a proper discussion with you if I feel like I’m standing before you naked.”

  “Discussion about what?” Irritation dripped from his voice. “I’m goin’ to get some more rest an’ I suggest ye do the same.”

  “Not until you explain this to me.” When he didn’t respond, she softened her voice and said, “I’d like to know what just happened.”

  “It was nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  He crossed his arms. “Just a bad dream. I get them from time to time. Which is why I’ve been tellin’ ye to lock the door at night. So I can’t get in here an’ cause ye harm.”

  A fresh wash of shivers puckered her skin. “Are these dreams the real reason for the bars on the windows?”

  Glancing away, he made a gruff noise before looking at her once more. “I jumped out of it once an’ hurt meself badly. Woke up mid fall.”

  Regina’s hands flew to her mouth. “You could have been paralyzed or…or killed. All it would have taken was an unlucky landing and…” She took a step in his direction.

  “Hence, the bars an’ the locks.” He frowned and it looked like he might say something else. But he didn’t.

  “Do you think something could have triggered it?”

  Meeting her gaze, he stared into her eyes for what felt like endless minutes. “No,” he eventually told her. “Now go to bed.”

  He turned away, but she wasn’t quite ready for him to leave. “Who were you trying to kill, Carlton?”

  He froze and she could see by the way his shoulders and back went completely rigid that her question displeased him. “A demon,” he muttered. Then he crossed over the threshold to the parlor and shut the adjoining door.

  12

  “A young lad just told me he saw Ida being carried out of Amourette’s the night before last by a man of medium height whose appearance he likened to that of a dockyard worker,” Blayne told Carlton two days later.

  “Why the devil did it take him so long to come forward?” Had he not made it clear that time was of the essence?

  “The lad is but ten years old. He wasn’t here when you made your announcement about the disappearances. It was his older brother who mentioned it to him last night.”

&nb
sp; “I see.” They were in Carlton’s study downstairs at the back of the tavern. Yesterday morning, after seeing Regina and being reminded of what she’d looked like with a lot fewer clothes on, he’d felt his desire flare up and had instantly fled the parlor.

  “He also said that…Guthrie? Are you listening?”

  Carlton blinked and muttered a swift, “Of course.” It shook him to think that Regina could distract him so easily. He forced himself to focus.

  Blayne frowned but did not question him further. Instead he said, “He described the same sort of unmarked black carriage.”

  “A hackney perhaps?”

  “That’s what I’m thinking. According to the boy, it headed south. He managed to follow it all the way to Seven Dials, after which it disappeared.”

  Carlton considered this new information. “I didn’t think to investigate there.”

  “Perhaps we ought to head back out,” Blayne prompted.

  Carlton nodded. “There isn’t a moment to lose.” He strode from behind his desk and collected his hat from a nearby chair. He opened the door and proceeded to make his way through The Black Swan. As he went, he signaled for Patrick and Claus to follow, demanding that they bring their knives with them just in case.

  “What’s happening?” he heard Patrick ask Blayne as they walked toward Broad Street.

  Reaching the wider road, Carlton raised his hand to hail a hackney. “We’re goin’ to comb every street between Holborn and the Thames.”

  But as with the previous occasions when Guthrie had gone out looking for Scarlet and Ida, the trail went cold. While some of the people they questioned had seen a black unmarked carriage and confirmed that it was indeed a hackney, no one could say for certain which way it had gone. One man scratched the back of his head and said he believed it was bound for the east end while a couple of women insisted it was heading for the docks.

  “We’ll have to split up,” Carlton said. It was the only way to cover so much ground.