The Duke of Ruin

by Burke, Darcy

  Diana heard the faint crackle of flame. Dear God, the door was on fire. Very shortly the storeroom would become an oven. And she and Rose were going to be cooked inside.

  Her mind went to Simon and the pain he would suffer if he lost her too. She prayed he wouldn’t have to endure that again. Surely life wouldn’t be so cruel.

  Yet as the smoke increased, the heat grew, and Rose began to cough, Diana’s hope faded. She was no stranger to cruelty, and it seemed that would be her end.

  * * *

  As Simon rode into the yard with Nevis, he saw the stable lads racing toward the kitchens. “What the devil is going on?”

  Nevis squinted toward the kitchens. “Smoke. More than normal, it looks like. Could be a fire?” He slid from his horse.

  Alarmed, Simon dismounted. Since it seemed he couldn’t call for a stableboy to take the horses, he handed the reins to Nevis. “I’ll send a lad back.”

  The steward nodded as Simon ran toward the kitchen. Smoke billowed from the scullery, and the door to the outside was thrown open as the staff worked to assemble a bucket line.

  “What happened?” Simon asked Tinley, who was organizing the line.

  “A fire in the storeroom.” His face was grim. “There may be someone inside.”

  Terror gripped Simon’s chest. He couldn’t suffer another tragedy. He looked about for Diana. She would be here helping. He was sure of it.

  He saw his mother hurrying toward him, Humphrey in her arms. “Where’s Diana?” she asked sharply. “She went to the kitchens.” Her eyes darted about frantically.

  The fear in Simon’s gut intensified, searing him until he nearly dropped to his knees. No, he couldn’t survive losing her too…

  He ran into the scullery and saw that the door to the storeroom was ablaze. Dashing back out, he shouted for an axe or some sort of tool to batter at the door.

  Tinley ran to the woodpile and came back with an axe. “You need a cover for your face, for the smoke.”

  Simon didn’t have time for that. He ran back inside and got as close to the door as he dared. Heat scorched his face and arms, then he felt water dousing him from behind, wetting him from head to toe and splashing against the door. The intensity of the heat diminished, and the flames fought to stay ablaze.

  “Diana?” he yelled, his hands shaking. “Are you in there?”

  “Help us, please, Your Grace.” It wasn’t Diana’s voice, but her use of the word “us” told Simon all he needed to hear. His wife was in there. He was sure of it.

  “Step as far back from the door as you can!” He sent the axe into the blazing wood as another bucket of water came to the end of the line. This one was tossed over the door, extinguishing some of the flames. “Keep the water coming!” He brought the axe back and slammed it into the door again, over and over until the wood splintered.

  Another bucket arrived and was thrown on the door. The fire sputtered and managed to keep its hold near the bottom. Simon reached for the latch, but jerked his hand away as the still-hot metal burned his fingers. He went back to hacking at the door, battering it into bits until there was a hole large enough for him to see inside.

  Curled against the shelves on the opposite wall was one of the scullery maids holding Diana, who was slumped on the girl’s lap.

  Despite the burns on his hands, he felt nothing but ice as his world seemed to stop. He couldn’t move or breathe or think. She was gone.

  Tinley nudged him as he pushed past with a large bucket. Water sluiced over the last of the fire, leaving a smoldering door with a blackened hole in the middle.

  “Your Grace, we need to get them out,” Tinley said. When Simon didn’t move, the coachman took the axe from his slack hand and whacked a hole big enough for a person to get through.

  Galvanized, Simon pushed past Tinley and stepped into the storeroom. He coughed as smoke filled his lungs, then he bent and picked Diana up. Holding her close to his chest, he slipped back out through the charred door. “Help the maid,” he said as he carried Diana through the scullery past the kitchen into the servants’ hall, where he laid her on a bench.

  He knelt next to her on the hard stone floor. Her dark hair had come loose, and silky tendrils framed her unnaturally pale face.

  “She’s breathing.” It was his mother’s voice.

  She was breathing, but Simon knew better than to hope. Miriam had been breathing too before she’d died in his arms.

  He stroked Diana’s face and bent forward to kiss her lips. His tears fell onto her cheeks. “Please, Diana, don’t leave me. I can’t bear to lose you. I won’t survive it.”

  How could he go on with the knowledge that he hadn’t been able to save two wives? Two women he loved more than he ever dreamed possible.

  Laying his head on her chest, he listened to her shallow breaths as he stared up at her still features. “I love you. And if you could just stay with me, please, I’ll show you how much.”

  Her breath caught in her chest, and he listened for it to start again. When it didn’t, he clutched at her savagely, anguish tearing through him as he gave in to the grief that would torment him forever.

  Chapter 18

  Diana gasped as she pulled air into her burning lungs. Her eyes fluttered open. There was something on her chest…

  “Simon?” He’d been begging her not to die. “I’m not dying. I refuse to do that to you.”

  The weight came off her chest, and she saw his face over hers, his dark eyes wide with wonder. “Diana?”

  She began to cough, deep, racking spasms that shook her body. He helped her to sit up and called for water. Tears streamed from her eyes, and someone pressed a tankard into her hand. She drank deeply, urging the cool liquid to soothe her sore throat. She heard him send someone to fetch the doctor in Romsey.

  When she finished the water, Simon took the cup and handed it off to someone. She’d no idea who, because she couldn’t take her eyes from his beloved face.

  “Did you say you loved me?” she croaked.

  “Shhh.” He kissed her softly, reverently, his hands cupping her cheeks. “Yes. More than my life.”

  She reached for him, clutching at the lapels of his coat. “I love you too. Why are you wet?”

  “We were frantic to put out the fire. But I was trying to get the door open. They doused me with water.”

  She turned her head and pressed a kiss to his palm, but he winced. Taking his hand, she looked at his reddened flesh. “You’re burned.”

  “Just a bit. A small price to pay to have you back.”

  “I didn’t go anywhere.”

  His gaze was so dark and intense, she shivered. “I thought I’d lost you.” The words crackled from his lips.

  Lost… The events preceding the fire came rushing back to her. She looked around and realized she was in the servants’ hall, the remnants of their meal still on the table in front of her.

  “Where is Mrs. Marley?”

  Simon frowned. “What does that matter?”

  Diana shook her head. “First, is Rose all right?”

  “Who’s Rose?”

  Frustration threatened her patience as her mind whirled with what she now knew—and what Simon didn’t. “The maid who was with me. Is she safe?” She grabbed his hand and, when he winced, let go with an apology. “Please find out for me. I need to know she’s safe.”

  Simon stood and put his head around the corner. “Tinley!”

  Diana pushed herself to her feet, holding the edge of the table for support, as she listened to their conversation.

  “Where’s the maid?” Simon asked.

  “Mrs. Dodd is fussing over her. She’ll be fine. How is Her Grace?”

  Simon turned his head and, when he saw that she was standing, rushed to her side. “Not taking it easy, as she should.”

  Diana coughed again. “I’m fine. We need to find Mrs. Marley immediately. I’ll explain shortly, but we need to find her.” She took his arm, and they walked into the main kitchen. Smoke still cl
ung to the ceiling as people worked to clear the scullery out.

  “Lowell!” Simon barked for the butler, who stood near the door to the scullery. The servant turned, his brows climbing with surprise.

  He came toward them. “Yes, Your Grace?”

  “Where is Mrs. Marley?”

  The butler glanced back toward the scullery. “I don’t know. Shall I look for her?”

  “That won’t be necessary.” The dowager came into the kitchen from the corridor leading to the house, her hand wrapped around Mrs. Marley’s arm. “I caught her just as she was trying to leave. I thought to myself, why would the housekeeper leave at such a time?” She pursed her lips at Mrs. Marley in a thoroughly disgusted fashion.

  Diana let go of Simon and walked toward the housekeeper. “You locked us in.”

  Simon rushed to her side. “The hell she did.” He glared at Mrs. Marley. “Why would you do that?”

  Her gaze found Lowell. “It’s his fault! All of this is his fault. If not for his stupid plan, none of it would have happened.” She began to cry, covering her face with her hands.

  “She’s lying,” Lowell said coldly. “Any plan—and it was stupid—was hers.”

  Mrs. Marley dropped her hands as her eyes darkened with anger. “How can you say that? It was your idea to create a scandal that would encourage Andrews and Mrs. Harker to leave.”

  Simon looked between them. “Stop. Explain. What scandal, and why did you want my butler and housekeeper to leave?”

  “So we could have their jobs,” Mrs. Marley said. “Davis had it all planned out.” Following her furious gaze, Diana realized Lowell must be Davis.

  Lowell sent his fiancée—likely former fiancée at this point—a look of pure loathing. “She lies, Your Grace. It was Mrs. Marley’s idea to start the rumor that Her Grace was unfaithful and that the babe may not be yours.”

  The housekeeper jabbed her finger toward him. “Because you wanted to be promoted to butler! The plan was yours. I only came up with the particulars.”

  Lowell’s eyes narrowed, and Diana recognized the glint in their depths for what it was—cruelty. “You’re also the one who caused her to fall.”

  Simon staggered, and Diana reached out to put her arm around his waist, struggling to keep him upright. He blinked at Diana, his gaze glassy and unfocused. “What are they saying?”

  “It wasn’t your fault at all, my love. None of it. You weren’t even on the stairs with her. She argued with Mrs. Marley, and she slipped.”

  “I tried to stop her,” Mrs. Marley cried.

  Diana surveyed her with a mixture of disgust and pity. “That’s not the way Rose tells it, and she was there—which you know, since you apparently overheard us talking in the storeroom. Why else would you lock us in and set the door on fire?”

  “You’re a fool,” Lowell whispered, his gaze spearing daggers at the woman he’d planned to marry.

  She rushed forward and put her hands on his chest. “I did it for you! For us! I didn’t know she saw what happened. When I heard her telling Her Grace, I panicked. I just knew they couldn’t be allowed to tell anyone. You would have done the same thing!”

  Lowell said nothing, just stared frigidly down at her. “You’re pathetic. To think I loved you, and here you are trying to drag me into your tangle of deceit and murder.”

  “I didn’t murder Her Grace! She fell, truly.” Mrs. Marley swung her head around and looked from person to person, her eyes wild.

  Besides the dowager and Tinley, Nevis had come into the kitchen along with Mrs. Dodd and Rose.

  Mrs. Marley pointed a shaking finger at the scullery maid. “She made everything up! You’d believe her over me?”

  “Since you tried to set her—and me—on fire, yes.” Diana looked to Nevis and calmly instructed him to lock the housekeeper up somewhere.

  “Happy to, Your Grace.” Nevis took Mrs. Marley by the arm and led her outside.

  Diana turned her attention to Lowell. “I’m not sure what crime we can accuse you of, but until I can think of one, you are hereby relieved of your duties. Remove yourself from Lyndhurst by nightfall or I’ll have Nevis lock you up with your would-be bride.”

  The butler’s jaw worked, and his eyes burned with fury. He turned to Simon. “Your Grace—”

  Simon looked toward his coachman. “Tinley, please see Lowell out immediately.” He turned a scathing glare on his former butler. “Someone will pack your things and have them delivered to the drive. Because I want you off my property as quickly as possible, Tinley will drive you to the village. I would encourage you to keep walking from there—straight out of Hampshire—because I will ensure that no one in this county will hire you, not even to muck their stalls or clean their chamber pots.”

  Tinley gestured for Lowell to precede him, his eyes glittering with revulsion. “Happy to escort you out with or without your help.”

  The butler lifted his chin and stalked out of the kitchen.

  Diana coughed again as she worked to get the feeling of soot out of her lungs.

  Simon turned and took her in his arms. “Are you all right? You should rest.”

  She glanced down at the angry patches of red on his hands. “And you should soak your hands. And get out of your wet clothes.”

  “The doctor will be here soon, I should think,” the dowager said. “In the meantime, take yourselves upstairs, and I’ll manage things here. Go on.” She gestured toward the corridor that led to the house, wordlessly shooing them on their way.

  Diana took Simon’s arm, clinging to him as they went into the house. When they walked into the hall, he paused at the base of the stairs. “It’s silly, but this feels different now. I’m still sad she’s gone—I shall always miss her—but to know that I had no part in it gives me a small sense of relief.”

  “I know how much you love her. Don’t think that I ever hope to take her place.” She touched his chest with her fingers. “Is there room for me in there too?”

  He slipped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. “Plenty. I told you I thought I’d never be whole again. But now there’s you. And I love you even more than I thought it possible to love another person. When I’m with you, I’m more than whole. It’s you and me together. It feels as though we can do anything—overcome anything.”

  She stood on her toes and kissed him, loving the feel of his lips on hers and so thankful they’d found each other.

  Later, after the doctor had tended to them and they were ensconced in their bed following a dinner his mother had insisted they take in their chamber, Diana smoothed her fingers over the bandages on his hands. “Does it hurt?”

  “Not much. The pain is nothing compared to the distress of the doctor telling me not to use them for a couple of days.” He held them up and looked at them with frown. “How can I show you how much I love you without my hands?”

  Diana pushed up from the pillows and straddled his hips, lifting her nightgown so she was bare against him. He still wore his shirt but had removed his breeches before they’d climbed into bed.

  She wiggled her fingers. “I have hands.” She used one to stroke his hardening cock.

  “Mmm, so you do.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes as she coaxed him to a full erection. “It occurred to me that when you handled that situation this afternoon”—he opened his eyes and looked up at her—“with magnificent aplomb, I would add—you didn’t stutter once.”

  He was right. And she’d been distraught and angry. “How s-strange.” She shook her head. “Damn.”

  He laughed. “I’d ask that you not stop it. Your imperfections are perfect to me.”

  She stared at him, her hand stilling. Emotion threatened her speech, but regardless of what he said, she would get this out without faltering: “I love you so very much.”

  He smiled with contentment, but it quickly faded. “Please don’t stop that either.” His gaze dipped down to his pelvis. “Your hand, I mean.” He narrowed his eyes seductively. “I’d
help, but the doctor said—”

  She released his cock and clasped his wrists, lifting them over his head. “Don’t hurt yourself, my love. Let me take care of everything.”

  She reached back down between them, and that’s precisely what she did.

  Epilogue

  He was still here, and he didn’t hate it.

  Simon marveled at the changes in his life over the past fortnight. He’d returned home the same broken man who couldn’t bear to face his past, and now he was content and happily contemplating the future.

  Even if his hands were a little worse for wear. Actually, they were much improved. He flexed his fingers to prove it to himself—as if he needed to. He’d used them to great benefit just that morning as he’d roused his beloved wife from sleep.

  Movement outside the window caught his eye, and he stood from his desk. He walked into the small sitting room between his study and the hall, where Diana sat composing a letter to Verity.

  Her left hand lay flat atop the desk above the paper, and the iron band on her finger caught his eye. He still meant to replace it.

  Sensing his presence, she turned her head and smiled. “Simon. What are you looking at?” She followed his gaze with hers, landing on her hand.

  He went to her side and slipped his fingers beneath hers. “You need a jewel.”

  “I need nothing but you.”

  He laughed softly. “While that is excellent to hear, my duchess deserves something better than this iron band to wear.”

  She gave him an obstinate but charming stare. “If you buy something else, I’ll simply wear this on my other hand.”

  Love swelled in his chest. “You are a treasure greater than any jewel,” he murmured as he bent to kiss her temple. He offered the reason he’d come to find her. “They’re here.”

  She set the pen down and looked up at him. Taking a deep breath, she stood. “I’m ready.”

  They walked together into the hall as the new butler, Eddleston, opened the door. Lowell had evaded prosecution for any part he’d played in Miriam’s death—the blame had fallen squarely on Mrs. Marley. She’d confessed to lying about everything and to setting fire to the scullery with the intention to kill Rose and Diana. The former housekeeper was to be transported any day now.