Duke of Secrets (Moonlight Square, Book 2)

by Gaelen Foley

  The light glimmered over Azrael’s pale hair as he willed the animal into submission, never breaking his stare.

  Serena scarcely dared breathe, watching the primal battle of wills unfold before her eyes. Her hands clutched to her chest, she did not even blink, half convinced that Raja would leap on Azrael next and continue his rampage.

  If that happened, she knew what fate awaited the leopard.

  A swift bullet—and it would be all her fault.

  “Raja. No,” Azrael commanded one last time, and suddenly, something barely perceptible in the big cat’s demeanor changed.

  He seemed to remember who he was. He still hissed with princely displeasure, but took a slinking step toward Azrael, abandoning his prey.

  Fearlessly, Azrael reached down and grabbed the beast’s collar.

  He only had to walk the animal four or five steps toward the house to reach the waiting cage.

  Raja went willingly, padding into his familiar confinement. The big cat seemed confused by the attack he had just launched.

  It was not until Serena heard the cage door slam back into place and the latch drop that she finally exhaled.

  Crouching down next to the leopard’s cage to catch his breath, Azrael closed his eyes, his shoulders drooping with exhausted relief.

  He lowered his head, still panting from his many battles of this night. With the deadened pond beyond him, the moonlight glowed in the clouding halo of warm breath surrounding his head.

  Serena ran to him, though she slowed down a few paces from Raja’s cage, approaching more warily.

  Azrael lifted his head and met her gaze, his eyes silver in the night, the traces of savagery still gleaming in their depths.

  But whatever wild streak of mayhem and darkness was in him by birth, they both knew now that he had mastered it, as surely as he’d tamed the black leopard.

  She reached out and laid a tentative hand on his shoulder.

  He covered it at once with his own.

  “How did you do that?” she whispered.

  “I have no idea.”

  “Are you hurt? Your shirt’s all bloody.”

  He shook his head. “Nothing serious. You?”

  When he glanced up to scan her face, his gaze suddenly homed in on the dried blood beneath her nose.

  Shock flooded his eyes. He swept to his feet. “Who did this to you? What happened?” he demanded, capturing her chin gently and lifting her face to the moonlight.

  “He hit me.”

  “Stiver?”

  She nodded. “He tried to abduct me. He threatened…unspeakable things.” She shook her head with a shudder, then grimaced as she glanced toward her sire’s prone, mangled body. “Is he—dead?”

  Azrael motioned to the wagon driver to go and check.

  Serena held her breath as the Order man walked over for a closer look at the earl. He felt for a pulse, then shook his head at Azrael.

  “He’s gone,” Azrael whispered.

  A sob tore from her. “Oh God, what have I done?”

  “Shh. I’ve got you.” Azrael wrapped his arms around her, steadying her as she broke down, though he himself was bloodied and cut.

  “He was my father. I know he was a terrible man but—I didn’t really mean for this to happen.”

  “I know, sweeting. Believe me, I know.” He cradled her in his arms.

  She clung to him, ignoring the blood on his shirt smearing onto her clothes. She curled her hands around his hard biceps; his strength was all that was holding her up as it sank in that she had killed a man, though indirectly.

  She had killed her own father. “I-I didn’t know what else to do. I thought he was going to kill you,” she said tearfully.

  “He would’ve. He tried to. But you saved my life.”

  She shook her head. “Raja saved you, not me.”

  “No, it was your quick thinking, Serena. You saved me, and I am in your debt. Shh, sweeting, I know.”

  He did know, she thought. Now they both did.

  Azrael held her, caressed her back, and gently strove to calm her down while the Order reinforcements finally arrived.

  Two riders and a carriage came barreling up the drive, but she paid them no mind, and Azrael just waved them on about their business.

  Thankfully, they’d brought a pair of medics with them—military-trained surgeons, most likely. The medics jumped out and got to work tending the injured at once. Their assistants covered Stiver’s body with a cloth while the wagon driver calmed down his team, while others went to help recapture the runaway coach horses.

  All around them, the Order’s operation continued with a bustling air of controlled chaos, but Serena hid her face against the less bloody side of Azrael’s chest, wanting the world to go away.

  Roy limped out to brief his colleagues. “Two dead in the entrance hall and four more in the cellar,” he told them. “Porter got shot in the leg. He’s inside.”

  One surgeon ran in to start working on Porter. The other jogged over to Azrael and Serena. “Do either of you require medical atten—”

  “I’m fine,” Azrael interrupted, “but my lady might.”

  “No, please, see to the others first,” Serena said.

  The medic looked skeptical, noting both of their bloodied appearances. “If you’re both quite sure…”

  Azrael waved the man off.

  “I’ll check back in a bit.” The medic hurried off to seek another patient.

  The excitement around them soon moved inside, leaving the two of them standing there, more or less alone.

  The night suddenly grew very quiet.

  “Maybe we really are cursed,” Serena said at last in a dull, weary tone.

  “No. Not anymore. Darling, listen to me.” He set his hands on her shoulders.

  She gazed up at him with tears in her eyes, unsure.

  “The curse is broken now. We did it,” he said softly. “For the first time, we’re finally free. Can’t you feel it? Everything’s changed. Even this place.” He glanced around at the dismal setting, then looked at her again.

  She gazed up at him, longing to believe.

  At that moment, the night sky released a delicate sprinkling of snowflakes.

  Serena looked up as the snow swirled and wafted down around them. Azrael lifted his head and stared at it, too.

  Silently, the snowfall began painting over the black landscape and the dead pond before them, covering the jagged, thorny branches of autumn with its clean blanket of white. Erasing all the ugly memories, like they were nothing but a mere bad dream…

  In minutes, the snow began collecting on the grass, the trees, and everywhere, brightening the forlorn darkness of this place with its pearly glow. It turned the shadows blue, until, soon, its pristine brilliance glistened magically in the light of the full moon.

  The whole landscape was transformed.

  “Maybe you’re right,” Serena finally whispered. “It does feel different here.”

  Azrael nodded.

  It was as though a great darkness had lifted, an immovable weight dissolved, unburdening them. Serena leaned her head against Azrael’s warm chest and listened to the peaceful silence.

  She remembered her mother’s words back at Dunhaven Manor, and could’ve sworn she sensed blessings falling down on them in between the snowflakes.

  Azrael leaned down and pressed a kiss to her brow. “I love you, my angel,” he whispered.

  Then he lifted his palm and offered his hand with a wary gaze, as though he feared she might not wish to take it any longer, after watching him so ruthlessly dispatch those evil men.

  Seeing for herself what he was capable of.

  But she grasped it without hesitation, lacing her fingers gently through his.

  Relief and gratitude flickered in the silvery depths of his eyes as he tightened his grip.

  “I love you, too, Azrael,” she said. “Never doubt it.”

  He smiled wearily. “We should go inside.”

  “In a m
oment.” The cold air felt good.

  Hand in hand, they stood watching the snow in wonder.

  At last, they looked at each other as it started sinking in that the nightmare truly was over.

  The ghosts of the past and all their families’ dark secrets had, at last, been laid to rest.

  Which meant the two of them had finally reached their new beginning. Indeed, thought Serena as she held his tender gaze.

  They had earned it.

  EPILOGUE

  Snowfall

  Four Weeks Later

  He was the perfect birthday present, Serena mused as she lay on her side watching Azrael sleep, her head propped on her hand.

  The gold canopy of his bed made a cozy swoop of fabric above them, but where they lay, the satin duvet was luxuriously rumpled, and the tousled sheets wound around their naked bodies.

  Her entire being was filled with the warm, deep satisfaction of her new life as his duchess. Just feeling his bare leg next to hers under the covers made her happy.

  How beautiful he was, she thought with a small sigh as he slept on, his muscled chest rising and falling with each slow, peaceful breath.

  He looked different somehow since all of this was over, she mused. Younger, his color better, not as pale. It was like he was coming more fully to life.

  Of course, there was also his charming new haircut.

  His flax-blond hair no longer reached past his shoulders, barely even touching the back of his neck. She loved the way the front part hung down coltishly over his forehead.

  She was filled with the tender urge to brush that silky forelock gently out of his face.

  Their sudden wedding had caused quite a stir in Society. But what else could the ton expect from such an unpredictable man?

  His secrets, however, had turned to surprises, she thought with a fond smile.

  Then her gaze wandered past him, through the ornately carved bedposts, to the French doors that led to the snowy balcony.

  The sky was pale blue. It must be nearly eight o’clock, she thought. They really should get up. It was just so sublimely cozy to lie abed together on a snowy winter morning.

  Through the glass panes of the French doors, Serena could see the black, lacy treetops in the garden park of Moonlight Square across from Rivenwood House, all newly lined with crisp white snow.

  The snow lay thick and dreamlike on the ground outside, promising a perfect setting for their Christmas party this evening.

  It would be their first time hosting a gathering as a married couple, but they had much to celebrate.

  Her birthday tomorrow, their twelfth day of marriage, the Yuletide right around the corner, and, of course, their survival.

  Serena had insisted on inviting whole families for the holiday occasion. Her parents and brothers and, of course, Cousin Tamsin would all be there. The Netherfords would be bringing their two small children, as well as Felicity’s brother, Major Peter Carvel.

  All her husband’s friends from the gentlemen’s club at the Grand Albion would be coming, including Sidney and Gable.

  Serena had invited not only Trinny, Lady Gable, but her whole clan of red-haired sisters and their parents, Lord and Lady Beresford, as well. After all, they were neighbors. In short, the whole square had been invited. Oh, and even Toby.

  He and Azrael seemed to have hit it off well, much to her amusement. That pair of eccentrics, she thought with affection.

  She could hardly wait. It would be wonderful having Azrael’s medieval-ish house garlanded with evergreen boughs and sprigs of holly, wreaths and ribbons, bright lanterns, and music.

  He needed that sort of thing, she thought. Healing all the scars of his past could take a lifetime, but she had devoted herself to that mission from the moment she had said “I do” at the little church of St. Andrew’s across the square.

  Her sweet husband had never had a normal family life of any kind, but Serena considered it her duty and privilege to shower him with all the joys he had never known.

  Wonderful holidays full of family and friends were just the beginning of the home she would make for him, brimming with love and laughter.

  She was grateful for the task before her. Reflecting on her own life, she knew how easily she could’ve gone down a very selfish track, indulged and cosseted as she’d been from her childhood.

  But meeting Azrael and sharing some small part of all the pain he’d known had opened her eyes to the preciousness and fragility of existence. She looked forward to devoting herself to taking away his cares and loading up his life with every happiness she could think of. For, truly, he had only just begun to live since their ordeal at Owlswick had ended.

  She thrust those dark memories out of her mind, however, beginning to wish her husband would wake up.

  Blissful as this moment was, their busy day was wasting. Besides, she had a present for him this morning, and was getting impatient for him to open it.

  “Are you staring at me?” he mumbled just then, his eyes still closed, but a drowsy smile tugging at his lips.

  She grinned and rested her chin on his warm shoulder. “Wake up, lazy. Anyway, who could blame me, handsome as you are?” At last, she gave in to the urge to brush the forelock gently out of his eyes.

  He opened them, a distinct silver twinkle in their ice-blue depths as he looked at her.

  Without warning, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her atop him. She went willingly, laughing.

  “How did you know I was watching you?”

  “I could feel it,” he whispered playfully. “We have a very powerful bond, remember?”

  “Oh my,” she said, startled by the rigid length against her. “I feel something, too, Your Grace!”

  “Who could blame me, luscious as you are?” he said, then gave her a lingering kiss. “Good morning, wife.”

  “Good morning, husband. Oh my! It’s growing.” She giggled at his insistent hardness throbbing against her belly. “It is a good morning indeed, I see.”

  “It’s about to get even better.” He rolled her onto her back and moved atop her.

  “Azrael!” She stopped him with a breathless laugh and a halfhearted hand on his chest. “Not today, darling. There’s too much to do!”

  “But look at you,” he protested, his voice still scratchy and seductive with sleep, “in my bed, so gorgeous, without a stitch of clothing on. There’s always time for that.” He kissed her neck. “I may not be evil incarnate, my love, but I am not a saint.”

  “No, you’re not.” Her toes curled with delight at his warm nibbling at her neck. “Nevertheless!” She planted her hands on his shoulders to keep him at bay, and attempted to take a firm tone with him. “Behave yourself, sir. Our Christmas party is tonight, have you forgotten? There is so much to do.” She gave him a playful little slap on his lean bottom. “Now, move.”

  He gave her a mock pout but allowed her to sit up.

  “Besides, as it happens,” she said, “I have an early Christmas present for you.”

  “Another one?” he asked, perking up and looking adorable, she thought, all rumpled and flushed.

  “Yes, and this one’s much better than a cravat pin.”

  For a moment, she thought he would argue. He was not used to getting presents, and for the first few she’d given him, he hadn’t known how to react.

  But he must be adapting to being doted on and spoiled, for today he merely shrugged.

  “All right, then. Bring it forth. All presents from you are most heartily accepted here.”

  She smiled at him over her bare shoulder as she bounced out of bed. They were making progress.

  “I wonder what it is,” he said, folding his hands behind his head as he leaned back against the headboard.

  “You’ll soon found out.” He eyed her naked body as she quickly slipped on her dressing gown, tying the cloth belt around her waist. “I think you’re going to like it.”

  She crossed their bedchamber, opened the door, and beckoned to the footman s
tationed in the upstairs hallway. “We’ll take our breakfast now. Tell Grimsley to bring the present up, too.”

  The footman bowed and hurried off.

  Serena shut the door and turned around again. “This could take a few minutes. I’m not sure it’s…wrapped yet.”

  “Hmm,” he said, fixing her with a piercing stare, as though trying to read her mind. She moved onto the bed again on her knees and caressed his leg through the covers.

  “Any nightmares last night, sweeting?” she asked softly. “It seemed like you slept well.”

  He captured her hand and held it. “None for me. You?”

  “No, they seem to have gone away. Thank God.”

  “Toby was right when he told me how strong you are,” he murmured. “You’re very resilient.”

  “Love makes me so,” she whispered, holding his gaze. Then she smiled ruefully. “I’m just glad to have my old nose back instead of that hideous eggplant I had on my face for a few days.”

  He shook his head, lifting his fingertips to her chin to inspect her face. “You’re lucky your nose wasn’t broken.” A shadow passed behind his eyes, but he must’ve willed his wrath away, for his voice stayed gentle. “It would be such a shame to mar that lovely face.”

  Serena snorted. “I looked so ugly for a while there that I marvel that you still saw fit to marry me. Good thing we had a tiny wedding.”

  “You could never be ugly,” he said. “But even if your nose was smashed as flat as a pugilist’s, you’d still be the most beautiful woman in the world to me.”

  “Ohh! You say the sweetest things.” She moved forward on her knees and kissed him, caressing his head and laying her palm next to the scar above his heart, where he’d told her Stiver had pierced his breast in their horrid ceremony.

  All those men had got what they deserved in her view.

  A shipwreck, according to the newspapers, had tragically claimed the lives of several dozen prominent men. A late November squall, it was reported, had sent their bark to the bottom of the Channel when the group of jolly club mates had been traveling for an annual social event on the Isle of Man.