Rescued by a Duke

by Ruth J. Hartman

  Who could fault her for leaving if she'd read Mr. Renthwaite's letter? And from the clues left behind… the letter on the floor, Maryann finding her mistress missing, and the side door left open… it seemed that was the case. It mattered not how it happened that she had found the letter. All he cared about was finding her and making things right.

  He nudged the horse forward with his boots. Rain still pelted Garrett's hat and coat, but not as much as before. The wind, though, tugged at his clothing and hair, reminding him the storm was not yet finished.

  Cloud's hooves pounded the ground, mud splattering both horse and rider. Garrett wiped dirty water from his face, squinting against the rain to search around the trees and rocks scattered across the common. Was she here somewhere and he just couldn't see her? If she were near, would she hide from him for the time being?

  Tightness in his chest told him the answer. Yes, she would. And wouldn't Garrett do the same if he were Sasha? Memories from their wedding flashed through his mind. Sasha, lovely in her gown and veil, walking down the aisle toward him on the arm of his cousin. The vicar's words and prayers. The endless verses of the hymns. The guests crowded into the dining room, waiting to be served their breakfast. Lucien crashing through the room, intent on seeing Sasha. Confessing his guilt of the murder. Sasha fainting.

  But afterward, their sweet reunion and consummation of their marriage. Garrett sighed. Why hadn't he told her the truth himself, even before the wedding? True, he hadn't wanted to spoil her special day, but it would have been preferable to what had happened at the breakfast. If only he'd known.

  He frowned and shook his head. No, if only he'd been man enough to tell her the truth right away, and had been there to comfort her afterward, then they wouldn't be apart right now. He wouldn't be out in a storm hoping with everything in him that she wasn't hurt again. They'd be safe inside their home, enjoying each other and their new love.

  He and Cloud sped through the drenched common and past swaying trees, riding into the wind as he searched for his wife. He had to find her. He had to! His life would amount to nothing without her.

  "Sasha! Where are you?" Would she answer? Would she forgive him? His heart ached at the thought that she might not. Since he'd now found the love of his life, it would break his heart if she couldn't come to terms with his lie. "Sasha!" His voice was lost to the howling wind. Would she be able to hear him?

  How far could she have gotten? It all depended on when she'd read the letter. If it had been much earlier in the day, she could have been gone for quite a while. What a fool he'd been. Now, he might have put in jeopardy the only woman he'd ever loved, or ever would love.

  Cloud's hooves slid on the wet grass, slowing their progress. Garrett glanced down at the horse, patting her neck to reassure her. From the corner of his eye, there was movement. He whipped his head to the right, searching every inch of the darkened area beneath a large tree. Something moved there. He squinted. Someone's long dark hair. Sasha!

  Garrett dismounted Cloud and leapt to the ground, barely noticing his boots sliding in the wet grass as he ran toward her. The moments while he struggled and slid slowed to forever. When at last he reached her, he knelt down. As he lifted her hair from her pale face, she moaned but didn't open her eyes. Dark circles smudged the skin beneath her eyes. Garrett's thoughts returned to not so long ago, when he'd found her in the well, cold and broken.

  He touched her icy skin and gasped. Had Sasha caught a chill? Would she recover as she had the first time? It hadn't been so long since she'd been in the well. Would a second illness so soon after the first be her undoing? He bent down and drew her to him, rocking her back and forth, trying to comfort both her and himself. Garrett's hot tears splashed down his cold face, landing in Sasha's hair and mixing with the moisture there. His sweet wife had to recover. For if she didn't, Garrett would surely die of a broken heart.

  ****

  Sasha sensed movement and voices close to her. She opened her eyes. Garrett and Maryann stood across the room, heads bent close together, whispering words Sasha couldn't quite hear. She frowned. What were they doing? How had she ended up in her warm, dry bed? That awful letter! That was why she'd fled the house, needing to get away for a while. Reading the words about Garrett knowing who'd killed Samuel. And the date on the letter, showing it to have preceded the wedding. No. She'd been lied to. Again.

  "Sasha! You're awake." Garrett and Maryann rushed toward the bed, the maid's skirts rustling in the near silence. Her eyes were red. Had she been crying? Garrett's were red and swollen as well. They both appeared to be weary.

  Sasha didn't want Garrett there. Didn't want to listen to his lies. Hadn't she been through enough? Her heart ached at the thought that she'd finally found happiness, love, and trust.

  It must have been after she'd succumbed to the dizziness that her husband had found her. But that was all a blank in her mind. The last thing she remembered was feeling ill, her stomach protesting its contents. The bed shifted, causing her to temporarily bounce a few inches in the direction of the edge. Garrett sat down beside her. His clothes were rumpled, his hair disheveled. Sasha wished he wasn't so near. He scooted closer, reaching for her hand. Sasha tugged it away, not wanting to touch him at the moment. The last thing she wanted to think about was the way he'd touched her the morning after their wedding. How could she have been so gullible? So trusting? So wanton? Memories of their unashamed touching and kissing made her skin crawl.

  Garrett frowned. "Darling, how are you feeling? I was so worried when I found you. I called for the physician and he has come and gone. He's concerned, but said there is no lasting damage done."

  Sasha glanced at Maryann but said nothing. The maid nodded, seeming to understand it was to be a private conversation between husband and wife as she left the room, closing the door behind her.

  Sasha couldn't bring herself to look at her husband. She stared straight ahead instead. "Garrett, of course I'm not all right. Wasn't it clear to you when you found me gone that I wanted to be alone for a while? And yet here I am again, facing you and your lie."

  Garrett bowed his head. "I am so sorry, darling."

  She leveled her stare right at him. "Sorry for not telling me about my brother and yours? Or sorry you got caught in your lie?"

  He shrugged. "It was wrong of me not to tell you."

  "Yes. It was." Hurt surrounded her mind and body. Samuel used to say that very thing.

  "But I had my reasons."

  He used to say that, too. "And what would those reasons be? That you didn't want your precious name and status sullied by your brother's disregard for another man's life?"

  "No."

  "Then what, Garrett? What could have kept you from telling me that your brother killed mine? I had years of listening to Samuel tell me he'd change. That he'd stop wasting our hard-earned money. Stop spending time with women of low standards instead of taking care of me. And now I find that you lied to me, too."

  "I did it for you."

  She blinked. "Pardon me? You did it for me?"

  He nodded.

  "You must think me daft."

  He darted his glance toward her. "Never."

  Tears spilled over her eyelids, trailing down her cheeks. "How then do you explain what you did?"

  He glanced away and took a deep breath. "I wanted your wedding day, our wedding day, to be special. I didn't wish anything other than joy for you when we were united. As husband and wife."

  "Well, we both know how that worked out." How could the man believe not telling her would make her happy? Did he not know she longed for justice for her brother? That she craved trust from those closest to her more than anything else?

  "But it was never my intent. I wanted—"

  She sniffed back a sob. "You wanted to hide something from me. Something I had a right to know."

  He shook his head. Slowly. Back and forth. Back and forth. Until she thought she'd go mad.

  "Yes, Garrett. You chose not to tell me, but ho
w I found out was so much worse. And in front of all those people, on what should have been a blessed and joyful event."

  "But I never thought—"

  "No, you didn't think. And then you still kept secrets from me even after the wedding. But I found out anyway, didn't I?" More tears spilled down her cheeks, and suddenly she could no longer bear the conversation. She turned away. "I… I'd like to be alone."

  "But—"

  "Please."

  Nothing happened at first. Just silence. Was he still staring at her? It took all of her willpower not to glance in his direction to find out. His answer came not with words, but instead by his actions. Movement on the bed and footsteps assured her he'd stood and walked away. Sasha didn't glance toward the door until it clicked softly shut.

  Tears, unbidden, raced down her cheeks. Why did loving someone have to hurt so? Her heart ripped in two, half riddled with hurt, the other half wanting Garrett to hold her tightly. Would she ever be able to look at him and not think of her brother? His brother? And the fact that Garrett had known and hadn't told her? To not be able to trust the one she loved was like standing on the edge of that horrible well. Stepping forward with nothing to catch her from falling into a dark abyss.

  She closed her eyes. Visions of their wedding engulfed her. Garrett waiting for her at the end of the aisle. Walking toward him. His tenderness as he kissed her. Her joy at being his wife, being with someone who would always love her, be honest with her.

  Sasha wished someone would tell her heart what to believe. She didn't think she could trust Garrett. Neither could she bear to be apart from him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  As a duke and her husband, Garrett could have overridden Sasha's words and remained in her bedroom. It was his right. But the guilt that had infiltrated his heart kept him from claiming that right. He had been in the wrong for not telling her the truth right when he'd found out about Samuel.

  Hadn't the guilt gnawing at him been an indication that he should have told her the truth? And she had every reason for not wanting to be with him. But that didn't help, and his heart was being ripped into pieces. What would he do if she never trusted him again? Would he have to, at some point, exercise his matrimonial rights and demand she treat him with respect and deference? He shook his head. that wasn't what he wanted. None of this was. If only he'd told her… if only… He shrugged. But what good did it do him now? He'd already apologized to her, only to have her reject it.

  He had to do something. Had to find a way to make her understand how sorry he was. That he did value her, trust her. That he hadn't meant to harm her or be deceitful. But was it true? Hadn't he knowingly decided to keep the news from her until after the wedding? If their roles were reversed, wouldn't Garrett be hurt and betrayed as well?

  He hurried down the stairs to his study. There were some plans he needed to make. There had to be a way to convey how sorry he was, how deeply he loved her. If she wouldn't listen to his words, perhaps he could show her through his actions. Summoning the butler, he gave him instructions to have the curricle and horses readied for a trip into town.

  He sat down at his desk, head in his hands, his fingers massaging his temples as the threat of a headache loomed nearby. How had his marriage come to this? How had his life disintegrated in such a short period of time? If only Lucien hadn't… thoughts of what Lucien must now be facing tore at Garrett's mind and heart. He didn't even want to contemplate the sentencing… the trial… and… death?

  Tears stained Garrett's cheeks. Even though he and his brother had never been close, had never gotten along, the fact remained, Lucien was still his brother. But why, oh why, did he have to be the one in the inn that night? Why couldn't he have left Samuel and that girl alone? But if that had been the case, Sasha might not have been walking alone in his pasture, or have fallen in the well. He might never have met her. But the fact remained that he had met her. And he did love her. Now was the time to do something about the muck he was in.

  He wiped the wetness from his face with a handkerchief and stood. Grabbing his coat and hat, he headed out for the front door. He stepped outside. Wind caught at his hat, threatening to whip it from his head. Large puddles remained from the earlier rain.

  Ashe and Cloud had been readied for him and were brought around to the front. He climbed into the curricle and clicked his tongue, his signal for the horses to walk on. The horses whinnied and picked up their pace. Did they sense Garrett's agitation? His heartbreak? Likely, as it engulfed Garrett, passing from him in waves. If sadness had a palpable form, Garrett embodied it.

  This time the clip-clop of horses' hooves did nothing to quell the depressive mood in which he found himself. Nothing, it seemed, could. Unless and until Sasha forgave him, Garrett would be broken. What would she think of his venture today? Would his gestures get past her anger? Her refusal to forgive him? Please let it be so. Let me break through the wall she has built to keep me out of her heart.

  He made several stops in town, loading down the rumble seat of the curricle and crowding his groomsman's perch more and more with each subsequent shop he visited. The smiles of the shopkeepers told him he'd made them quite happy with his purchases. Surely, in among all of the items he'd bought, there would be something that would cheer his new wife. Something that would soften her heart toward him.

  As he made his way back home, Garrett's mood lightened. He chuckled at the thought of the many, many items packed behind him in the carriage. If nothing else, perhaps Sasha would find humor in the ridiculous amount of gifts he was bringing home for her.

  Once in front of the house, he called out for the butler. The door opened promptly. The butler's eyes widened at the sight of the loaded carriage, the packages stacked so high they threatened to tumble to the ground. But he said not a word. He called for two footmen, and they hurried to the curricle and began lifting items from the back.

  Garrett laughed as he watched the footmen weave back and forth, not being able to see well around the boxes and bags they wielded. Garrett did the same, as he, too, grabbed as many things as he could and headed up the front steps, carefully finding each step with the toe of his boot.

  Once inside the foyer, he instructed the butler to have the items carried upstairs.

  The butler raised an eyebrow, and then lowered it in deference to Garrett. "Yes, your grace. All of them?"

  "Yes. All of them."

  "And to which room?"

  "To the duchess' bedroom. Knock first and Maryann will meet you at the door. Tell her I instructed you to carry all of the packages into the room."

  "Yes, your grace."

  Was it Garrett's imagination, or did the butler appear concerned? Did the man know something that Garrett was not privy to? Sometime servants heard things not meant for their ears.

  Garrett set his burden on the floor and went back outside to retrieve more boxes. Normally, he wouldn't do it himself, but would have one of the footmen help the butler. He needed to be productive, though, making some sort of progress. Besides, he wanted to be at his wife's bedroom door when the last of the items was carried in. He didn't want to miss her expression. Surely it would be one of delight. Would her eyes light up with glee? Her smile widen as package after package was delivered?

  He climbed the stairs a final time as a footman carried the last of the boxes up ahead of him. The footman rounded the corner and shuffled under his burden toward the open doorway. Maryann stood just outside the door, her eyebrows raised as she watched the footman slide past her into the room.

  Garrett picked up his pace, eager for Sasha's smile. Perhaps she would even laugh and invite him to sit on the bed with her as she opened her gifts. He entered the room and stopped. Sasha sat in the edge of the bed, surrounded by boxes and bags on the floor. She was not smiling. And not a single package had been opened.

  ****

  The hurt encompassing her heart was almost physically painful. And a headache loomed just beyond the edges of her temples. The slight pressure would
be a full-blown illness if she couldn't control her irritation. What had Garrett done? Why was he having the butler and footmen drag all of these things into her room?

  Her husband appeared in the doorway as the butler placed another box on the floor. There were so many, it would be nearly impossible for the servant to find his way out again. The poor man wove and angled this way and that, nearly toppling over more than once before finally leaving.

  Garrett grinned at the butler and stepped into the room. His eyes met hers and he lost his smile. Surely, then, her depressed mood showed on her face. She needed time alone, and now several people and a multitude of things filled her room. What in the world was she expected to do with them all?

  Maryann, who still stood in the open doorway, quietly stepped into the hall and closed the door. Sasha didn't want to be alone with her husband, but from his actions, it was obvious she hadn't gotten her point across to him earlier to leave her alone for a while.

  Garrett's Adam's apple moved up and down as he swallowed. He blinked several times. Was he nervous? She crossed her arms over her middle and waited, never taking her eyes from his face. Sasha had once thought the moon and stars rested on the man, loving him beyond all reason. But the feeling of betrayal surrounding her heart now kept that from her. All she could envision in her mind's eye was Samuel. When Garrett chose not to tell Sasha the truth about his murder, he'd forever linked himself to her painful past. Couldn't he understand the hurt?

  But you love him. Her traitorous heart wouldn't let her forget. Yes, she loved him. But trusting him was something she could not at this moment do.

  He stepped over a few of the boxes and paused, now a few feet closer to the bed. "Darling, I… brought you these things… Some dresses, shoes, parasols, and fans. I thought maybe… you'd enjoy them." His arms hung limply at his sides, as if he didn't know what to do with them.