The Dark Duke

by Landon, Laura

  “Is something wrong, Barkley?”

  “I think perhaps, Your Grace.”

  “You think?”

  By now, Sterling was out of bed and facing his loyal butler. His valet, Wilson, stood beside Barkley wearing a robe and slippers.

  “No, Your Grace. Actually, I’m sure something is amiss,” Barkley said. He looked at Wilson. “We both are, Your Grace.”

  “And what would that be?”

  Barkley held the candle higher as Wilson walked to Hadleigh’s clothes closet and removed a pair of trousers. The first hint of disaster struck him. He took the pants Wilson handed him and slipped into them.

  “It’s Lady Amanda, Your Grace,” Barkley said.

  Sterling sat to allow Wilson to assist him with his socks. “Of course. I should have known the lady had caused trouble,” he said as Wilson slipped on his shoes.

  “Oh. The lady hasn’t caused any trouble,” Barkley said. “Yet.”

  “That we’re aware of,” Wilson added.

  Wilson removed a folded shirt from a drawer and helped the grumbling duke put it on.

  He tucked his shirt into his trousers as Wilson got a plain black waistcoat and jacket from the closet, then slipped on the waistcoat and allowed Wilson to fasten the buttons while Barkley held his jacket.

  “Very well,” Hadleigh said when he was dressed. “What has Lady Amanda done now?”

  Barkley looked at Wilson, then shook his head. “I’m not sure, Your Grace.”

  Sterling was becoming more frustrated by the second. “What does that mean, Barkley?”

  “It means,” Wilson, his longtime valet interrupted, “that Lady Amanda has gone missing.”

  “Missing?”

  The emotion he felt could be described by several names. Fear, irritation, anger, fury, rage, and terror were among the first that came to mind.

  “Yes, Your Grace,” Barkley added as he and Wilson raced to stay up with him as he made his way to the door and out of his room. “The lady is gone as well as her manservant, Jenkins, as well as her carriage.”

  “Damn!” he yelled, slamming his hand against the newel post as he turned to go down the stairs. “How long has the lady been gone?”

  “We’re not sure, Your Grace. Nellie looked in on Lord Mattenden like she was instructed to do during the night, and by chance, peeked into the lady’s room to make sure she was resting comfortably. She found her bed empty. We’ve made a thorough check of the house and discovered her manservant, Jenkins, missing, and her carriage gone from the carriage house.”

  “Hell and damnation!” Sterling shouted. “Does Reynolds have my carriage ready?”

  “Yes, Your Grace. It’s waiting out front.”

  Without waiting to be helped, Sterling grabbed the coat Barkley held out, and raced through the open door. “You know where to go,” he yelled to Reynolds as he jumped inside.

  “Yes, Your Grace. To the docks.”

  Yes, Sterling thought as the carriage lurched forward. To the docks. The bloody fool woman was doing exactly what she’d promised she wouldn’t do. And he had no doubt she knew what she was going to do even as she lied to him and told him she’d give him time to see what he could discover on his own.

  Since the docks were halfway across Town from where he lived, it usually took a fair amount of time to reach the waterfront. Tonight it seemed to take infinitely longer. “Are we almost there?” he shouted to his driver.

  “Yes, Your Grace. We’ll be there shortly. Where should we start looking for the lady?”

  Sterling thought for a moment. Go to Kroften Import and Export.” He’d interrupted her before she had a chance to break into their office. She’d no doubt try to finish what she’d started.

  His carriage finally arrived at the location and Sterling jumped from the carriage. “Stay here, Reynolds. I’ll be back momentarily.”

  Sterling didn’t wait for a reply, but raced toward Kroften Import and Export. He paused for only a second when he saw Flanders Shipping a few doors down the street. He made a mental note to check there if he didn’t find her at Kroften Import.

  Sterling stayed in the shadows as much as possible, then turned down the alley. He placed his hand on the knob to the Kroften office and slowly turned. The knob turned easily.

  “Damn,” he muttered as he opened the door and stepped inside.

  She hadn’t heard him, an observation that made him angrier than he was before. If he could sneak up on her so handily, that meant anyone else could have, too.

  “Good evening, my lady,” he said as he closed the door. “Imagine my surprise at finding you here.”

  He took pleasure in hearing her squeak of surprise as she spun from where she stood in front of the file drawers to face him. He also took immense pleasure in seeing her shocked expression, as well as the flash of fear in her eyes. What he didn’t enjoy, was seeing how quickly she reached for the pistol she had handy and pointing it at him.

  “Put that blasted thing down,” he ordered. “You’ve pointed it in my direction enough for one lifetime.” He strode over to where she stood and took the gun from her hand.

  “Don’t you know not to sneak up on someone with a gun, Your Grace? You could have gotten yourself killed.”

  “What I know,” he said, confronting the anger he saw in every line of her features, “is that no woman with whom I’m familiar has the ability to get herself in trouble as often as you do.”

  She propped her fists on her hips and glared at him. “What are you doing here? Your constant interruptions are becoming tiresome.”

  “Your penchant for putting yourself in danger is equally as tiresome.”

  “What I do should not concern you.”

  Her words confounded him. “How can you suggest that I should not be concerned? You are doing things that could get you arrested by the authorities. You’ve already been shot at because you are getting perilously close to discovering something someone wants to keep secret. And, if left to your own devices, you will get yourself killed.”

  “That’s not true,” she countered. “I have been very careful not to be discovered.”

  “I found you!” he bellowed.

  “That’s because you refuse to leave me be. You have to control everything and everyone around you. It’s in your makeup. It’s how you operate. I—”

  “Enough, woman. If you don’t quit your harping we’ll have the authorities banging on the door.”

  “I don’t want to quit harping, Your Grace. I want to be angry. At you!”

  “Then you can be as angry as you want—once we leave here and arrive home.”

  “But I’m not finished.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, my dear. You are finished. We are leaving this place, and you are not to come back at any time in the future. Is that understood?”

  She glared at him, her eyes filled with enough fury to start a war. Well, let her be angry. That was better than finding herself in gaol.

  “Now, close those drawers and make your way to the door.”

  “You’ve not won, Your Grace,” she said, slamming closed the open cabinet drawer.”

  “Of course I haven’t won,” he countered. “It’s impossible to win any argument where you’re concerned. I don’t know why I try.”

  “You continue to try because it’s impossible for you to admit defeat. But the day will come when you are forced to wave the white flag. I am not as easily cowed by your manipulations as the rest of society. You do not frighten me, Your Grace.”

  “That, perhaps, is a fatal mistake. You should be frightened. Now, gather anything that might indicate you were here and make your way to the door.”

  He watched as she arranged items on the wooden cabinet the way she’d found them, then walked to the door. She didn’t speak, but she didn’t have to. The intense glare in her eyes when she walked past him left no doubt as to her fury.

  “You will regret your high-handedness, Your Grace,” she said through clenched teeth as she walk
ed past him.

  “Then I will add it to the numerous things I already regret,” he answered as he followed her out the door.

  She stomped ahead of him, her footsteps quick as she tried to get away from him. He didn’t mind. The sooner they reached the carriage and separated themselves from the docks, the safer they’d be. How could she have forgotten that they’d been shot at a few days ago? How could she have ignored the fact that it was dangerous for her to return.

  He followed her down the alley and stepped into the street. The second Reynolds saw them, he pulled the carriage forward. Hadleigh had no doubt the minute the carriage door closed behind them, he’d get the full force of her anger. It was obvious that her fury increased with every step she took. That suited him just fine. It was time she was forced to face the magnitude of the danger that surrounded her. And he looked forward to delivering the speech that would make that evident.

  She was almost to the carriage now and Sterling waved for Reynolds to stay atop. He’d open the door for her himself. They’d be gone faster that way.

  He lengthened his strides and reached the carriage the same time as she. She turned her head to face him when he stretched out his hand, and graced him with a glare that would best be described as venomous. His pulse quickened. He was looking forward to their upcoming battle. She was wrong to come down here by herself and he looked forward to telling her that.

  He opened the door, then stepped aside to let her in. Though he extended his arm to assist her, he knew she wouldn’t take it. She was that angry.

  She reached up to grasp the railing beside the door, then stopped when a muffled pop echoed in the darkness. A second pop followed the first, then a third.

  “Damn!” he muttered when a stinging pain bit into his upper arm. “Get in!” he bellowed. “Now! Hurry!”

  Thank goodness she only hesitated a moment before she followed his orders. He jumped in behind her and slammed shut the door.

  “Stay back,” he ordered, extending his arm in front of her, then pushing her back into the corner. “Go, Reynolds!” he bellowed, but his driver had already snapped the reins and the carriage lurched forward.

  “Are you satisfied, my lady?” he growled as he rubbed his arm.

  He sat on the seat next to her but didn’t look at her. He was too angry to suffer through the defiant expression he knew he’d see on her face.

  She had the good sense to remain silent. His wound wasn’t severe, but it would pain him for the next few days, and that pain would serve to his advantage. It would be a reminder of how foolish she’d been, and that she’d almost gotten them killed—again! He didn’t intend to let her forget it.

  “The minute we arrive home, you and I are going to come to an understanding concerning your midnight escapades,” he yelled, louder than he’d spoken in years. “And when we’re finished, I will expect your promise in blood to never leave the house without my permission again. Is that understood?”

  She didn’t reply and his anger stepped up a notch. “Is that understood?” he said even louder.

  When she didn’t answer yet again, he turned to give her his full wrath.

  The way she sat against the corner caused him a moment of concern. He, of course, couldn’t see her clearly because of the darkness, but when they passed a streetlamp, he got his first glimpse of her.

  “Amanda?”

  Her head was cocked to the side, resting against the side of the carriage. Her eyes were closed as if she were sleeping. Her hands lay limp in her lap.

  “Amanda?”

  A rush of panic surged through him. “Amanda!”

  He turned toward her and grabbed her by the shoulders. She slumped against him.

  He let his hands roam over her body, first up and down her arms, then over her ribs and midsection. With little effort, he unbuttoned her cloak beneath her chin and pushed the garment from her shoulders. He turned her in his arms and ran his hands over her back, from high at her neck to below her waist. Nothing.

  He gently leaned her back against the squabs and let his hands rest on her shoulder, then move down toward her breasts. Had she fainted? Was she limp because she’d lost consciousness?

  He eliminated that thought as quickly as it came and allowed his hands to roam over her front. Amanda Radburn would never swoon. Not even in the face of danger.

  He worked quicker now, skimming down her right side, down her chest, over her breast, then lower, to her waist. Nothing.

  He moved to her left and repeated the procedure. Luckily, they passed beneath a street lamp at the same moment his fingers touched something wet and sticky.

  Dear God, no!

  “Hurry, Reynolds,” he yelled as he pulled a clean handkerchief from his jacket pocket. “The lady’s been injured.”

  He ripped the front of her gown enough to expose her chest. Once he found the spot where she’d been shot, he pressed the cloth against the area.

  “Amanda, can you hear me?”

  Nothing.

  His heart raced in his chest. He’d known terror before. He experienced the emotion again. He pressed harder, praying that she wouldn’t die. Praying that she wasn’t already dead.

  “Amanda, don’t die. Please, be strong.” He hesitated. “I don’t want you to die.”

  The carriage turned a corner, then slowed. He picked her up in his arms, and she moaned. It was the most welcome sound he’d ever heard.

  He stepped down as soon as the door opened and raced toward the house. “Send for a doctor,” he ordered the second he entered the house. “And wake the staff. We’ll need hot water, and bandages, and…”

  Sterling stopped issuing orders. He didn’t know what else they might need.

  He carried the lady to her room, taking the stairs two at a time. Her bed was already pulled back when he arrived, and he lowered her to the sheets as gently as he could.

  “If you’ll leave us for a moment, Your Grace,” Nellie, the maid he’d assigned to care for Amanda said, stepping toward the bed. “We need to get the lady out of these clothes.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Sterling stepped out of the room to let the women take over. He walked into the hallway and turned to face the closed door. He braced his arms against the wall, and with a heavy sigh, hung his head between his outstretched arms.

  Her injuries were severe. He didn’t have to be a doctor to know that. And she’d lost a great deal of blood.

  He considered the possibility that she might die and felt a loss as great as anything he’d ever experienced. Even greater than the loss he’d experienced when Melisande had died.

  This loss was different.

  When Melisande died, he felt as if a possession he held dearly had been taken away from him. But if Amanda died, he wouldn’t lose a possession, for no one would ever possess Amanda. Instead, he would lose something more important.

  Something that was irreplaceable.

  . . .

  The doctor arrived shortly after Nellie and the maids had Amanda out of her bloody dress and into a clean gown. He examined the wound, then issued orders for enough light to outshine the sun.

  When he finished his examination, he mumbled several sentences. Sterling didn’t catch most of what he said. He regretted that he’d understood the little he did. Especially the words, she’ll be lucky to survive.

  When the room was filled with every lamp in the house, the doctor began his work.

  Sterling watched as much as he could, but found it impossible to keep from shifting his gaze each time the physician’s attempt to retrieve the bullet produced no results.

  He said a prayer that the doctor’s probing wouldn’t go on much longer. He was afraid the doctor’s prediction would come true and Amanda would not survive much more.

  “Hold her steady,” the doctor ordered. “I’ve got to get that damn bullet out now or we’re going to lose her with it still inside her.”

  Sterling placed his hands on Amanda’s shoulders and pressed down. He felt the
pull and twist when Amanda struggled to escape, then heard her gut-wrenching cry when the doctor’s instrument tore at her flesh. But he held her steady and didn’t let go.

  “We’re almost finished,” Sterling whispered in Amanda’s ear. “The doctor nearly has the bullet out.”

  She moaned again, this time louder and in greater agony, then the doctor pulled out his instrument with the bullet trapped between the two metal prongs.

  “It’s over, Amanda. You’ll be fine now.”

  Sterling kissed her temple, then pressed another kiss to her forehead before he rose.

  “Clean her up,” the doctor ordered the staff, “and keep her warm.” He turned to Sterling. “If I may have a word with you, Your Grace.”

  Sterling nodded sharply, then followed the doctor out of the room.

  “Do you prefer to hear what will probably happen to the lady, Your Grace? Or do you prefer sugar coating?”

  A heavy weight settled in his gut. “The truth.”

  “I thought so.” The doctor swiped at the perspiration still on his brow. “The lady’s injuries are severe, Your Grace. If she doesn’t develop a fever, there’s a chance she might survive. If she comes down with a fever, her chances of survival are almost impossible.”

  A numbness settled over every part of his body, especially the area around his heart.

  “Would you like the assistance of a nurse to stay with the lady? I know a female who has had experience with wounds of this nature. She recently returned from the Crimea.”

  “Yes,” Sterling answered. “Please, send her immediately.”

  “Very good.” The doctor retrieved his medical bag from inside the room, then returned. “I’ll stop in the morning. If you have need of me before then, don’t hesitate to send word.”

  “Thank you,” Sterling said, then watched the doctor follow a footman down the stairs. When the door closed behind the doctor, Sterling took a deep breath before he entered the room.

  He would stay with Amanda until he knew what was going to happen to her.

  Or, he would stay with her until she died.

  The thought caused a pain to stab inside his chest, a jab that certainly must have penetrated his heart.