Daring Deeds 0f A Forbidden Duchess (Steamy Historical Regency Romance)

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Daring Deeds 0f A Forbidden Duchess (Steamy Historical Regency Romance) Page 22

by Violet Hamers


  A servant was standing before him, waiting for his response to the message he had just relayed. If he took too long to think of something to say, the servant might find that odd and he didn’t want to risk him relaying that back to the Duke of Ventbury. He had just told him that the Duke, Lord Pemperton, and Lady Pemperton had arrived at a name that might be the person who was behind the kidnapping. Thinking of a response to that shouldn’t take as long as it was.

  The servant was starting to shift, not knowing what to do and so Paul said the first thing that came to his head. “Tell the Duke that I will go back to the theatre to look for clues that might help us prove his guilt to the authorities.”

  “Yes, M’Lord,” the servant said and hurried off. The Count was in his own manor, trying to sort through his next move when he received the message. Now he had to come up with another plan.

  He went to his study, the place he thought the best. Now, the Duke would believe that he had gone back to the theatre, although he knew there was nothing more to find there. They had already searched as much as they could when they were there last, so going back would only be a waste of time. But he also couldn’t just sit back and let things play out.

  He went to the center of the room and stood stock-still, his chin in his hand. Now, he had two new pieces of information that he hadn’t known before. Someone had been watching her, and whoever that person was had handed her an anonymous note regarding her deceased parents. It was all connected, he was sure, and now that person may have been discovered by the Duke.

  He sure moves fast.

  He still couldn’t figure the Duke out at all. He didn’t act the way he thought he would, especially after hearing the rumors about him. He’d always heard he was a dedicated and responsible gentleman who ran the Dukedom perfectly, leaving little to no time for a social life or for courting. After Paul began to court Miss Isabel, he had also learned that the Duke was determined to see that his ward was well set into a married life.

  Then why did he react that way last night? That’s the last thing I expected him to do.

  No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t figure it out. But then again, whenever he thought about it, he couldn’t think of much past the rage that enveloped him when he remembered the punch he had received. He would have to walk around with this horrible bruise for a while.

  That shouldn’t matter to me right now. Miss Isabel is my betrothed. She will be marrying me, so I need to do something about this predicament and quickly.

  He didn’t move from his spot. Suddenly, it occurred to him. He should go to the Count of Xander’s residence before the Duke and Marquess did. If he confronted him first, then all this could end sooner.

  Determined now, he set out for the man who kidnapped his betrothed.

  It didn’t take him long to arrive at the Count’s residence. He knew exactly where Lord de Xander lived and he let his carriage idle a bit nearby before pulling up to the front. He watched the entrance for a short while, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man who was suspected to have taken his betrothed, but nothing happened. In fact, the entire manor seemed to be vacant, with not even a servant milling about as they worked.

  The sight of it didn’t sit very well with him.

  Is this really the place she might be?

  He couldn’t leave until he saw for himself. By now, the Duke and the others may be on their way here and he hoped that the head start he had taken would help him get to the bottom of this before they arrived. He slowly reached for the butt of the pistol he had decided to carry with him and half-hoped that he wouldn’t have to use it.

  But I will. If I have to shoot someone to get back what is mine, then I will not hesitate.

  Encouraged by that thought, he told the coachman to pull up in front. The Manor seemed quite normal from the outside and it agitated him to think that Miss Isabel may be locked away somewhere inside. The image of her in despair, perhaps even crying, spurred him on until he was standing at the front door, waiting to be accepted in.

  The butler was a portly old man who had squinty eyes drinking him in before he said, “Lord de Xander was not expecting you.”

  “But I must speak to him,” Paul said, not smiling but not showing his inner growing anger, either. “It is an urgent matter that requires his attention.”

  He knew that the butler wouldn’t ask for details, though Paul got the distinct feeling that he wanted to. He only stepped aside, clearly having received his orders to admit him from the very start and Paul entered. He swept his gaze around the foyer, taking in what he could as if a clue as to whether Miss Isabel was truly here would stand out to him. But it looked normal, like any other foyer, and so he followed behind the butler who led him toward the parlor.

  Lord de Xander was standing at the other end of the room. His shocking white hair was what stood out to Paul the most and he lingered by the door, taking in the gentleman before him. Lord de Xander was tall, and would have been even taller had he not been bent slightly by age. He held his hands behind him as he stared out a tall window. Paul knew the Count was aware of his presence in the room and felt annoyance prick him at the fact that he was taking such a long time to acknowledge him.

  Finally, Lord de Xander turned to him, his hands still clasped behind his back. Like his butler—in a nearly uncanny manner—his squinty eyes scrutinized Paul before he approached him and said, “My Lord, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

  Paul ventured further into the room. He would be polite. He would play his role well until he had certain evidence that the person he had come here to find was truly in the Manor. Then he would act as necessary. But for now, he held his hand out to the Count. “Have we already been acquainted, My Lord?”

  Lord de Xander shook his head slowly. Had this been another time in an entirely different situation, Paul would have seen him as wise just by the way he moved. “Not quite,” he said, his voice low and gruff. “I have heard of you, My Lord. But we haven’t been personally introduced, no.”

  “You’ve heard of me?” Paul said with a quick half-grin. “Good things, I hope?”

  “You are quite popular amongst the ladies of London ton. It would be impossible not to know you.” Lord de Xander finally grasped his hand and said, “And since you are here to see me, I doubt I need to introduce myself to you.”

  “Quite unnecessary, My Lord.” The handshake was rough and short. Paul resisted the urge to flex his suddenly aching hand when they broke apart.

  Lord de Xander moved from his spot at long last and gestured to one of the seats. “Why don’t you sit and have some tea while you tell me why it is you’re here?”

  “Oh, you needn’t do that, My Lord,” Paul said, holding up his hands. “I won’t be long anyhow.”

  “Ah, I see. What is it that you need from me then?”

  Paul made sure to think hard about it before he arrived at the Manor. He knew he couldn’t show up here without a proper reason and in order to act upon his suspicions, he needed to hear confirmation from the Count first. He planned his questions well and he hoped that they would bring the results he was hoping to hear. “I believe you attended the Hallinton ball?”

  “Yes, I did, My Lord. As did many other lords and ladies in London here for the Season.”

  “I believe I might have seen you but I wasn’t entirely sure,” Paul said in a tone that screamed sheepish. Lord de Xander barely blinked at him. His gaze remained steady on him, waiting for him to continue. It was unnerving. “I don’t know how I should say this.”

  “The best way to say what you need to say is to simply do it,” said Lord de Xander.

  Paul nodded. He was good at acting. He’d learned how to do it so flawlessly that sometimes, he wondered if he was truly feeling the way he wanted the other person to think that he was. “There is a lady that I hoped to court. When I saw her at the ball, I became smitten with her but I couldn’t work up the courage to ask her to have a dance with me. I thought you might be able to introduce us so
that I may finally try my luck.”

  Lord de Xander let out a sound that Paul wasn’t sure if it was a groan or a sigh. He leaned back, stroking his thick, white beard. “Ah, so you are here in pursuit of love, then.”

  “That is quite a romantic way to put it but essentially, yes,” Paul said with a nervous laugh. He couldn’t tell how his lie was playing over with the Count. The old gentleman was a hard person to read.

  “And who is this lady?” asked Lord de Xander.

  “Her name is Miss Isabel Chenieux, I believe. She hails from France and since I learned that you are French yourself, I thought that perhaps you may already know her.”

  The critical moment of which Paul would be able to decide whether or not the Count was the culprit passed so quickly that it took him a moment to understand what happened. Lord de Xander barely reacted to the name. In fact, it almost seemed to Paul as if he was purposefully trying his best not to behave in a manner that might show that he knew exactly who Paul was talking about.

  “Miss Isabel Chenieux,” Lord de Xander repeated, his tone thoughtful. “The name does ring bell.”

  And that was the noose around his neck.

  Paul recalled what he’d heard the Duke of Ventbury had found out. Christian Velaroix, Count de Xander, had been a close friend of the Chenieuxs before their untimely demise. If that was truly the case, then such a reaction was clearly forced. The fact that he did nothing but sound slightly confused as he recounted the name was all Paul needed to know to lunge form his seat.

  At this point, the charade he had been putting on was stripped free. He no longer needed to find out if the Count knew anything. Now, he was positive that he did. He was sure that Miss Isabel was locked up somewhere in the Manor—or perhaps somewhere else—and because he didn’t want to lose his chance to find out exactly where, he didn’t bother to pull out his pistol. He made a grab for Lord de Xander instead.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  David was getting much too impatient at this point. Though it hadn’t been that long, it felt like ages since he sent word to Lord d’Ylles about their intention to meet with Lord de Xander and the fact that he was yet to hear anything back was making him very upset.

  It felt like he was close. He could feel it on the tips of his fingers, the feel of Miss Isabel’s soft skin when he finally found her. It was the only clue they had to rely on right now and he wanted so badly to believe that this was the key to finding her.

  He ignored the negative thoughts. They had no place here, not when he had to focus all his energy on making sure that she was all right.

  If only we can hear back word from the Count so we can finally act.

  David looked over at Lady Pemperton. She was sitting by the window, a soft wind rustling her hair. In all the time he’d known her, David had never seen her look so wrung out before. The darkness beneath her eyes had gotten worse and though she was still quite young, a new few lines of stress crinkled her brow. He didn’t think she was aware of how distressed she looked right now, especially since she kept fiddling with her fingers in a nervous habit.

  Lord Pemperton approached him carefully. He, too, was filled with agitated energy, waiting for the chance to act, but it was his idea to inform the Count of what they had found out and so David knew he had no right to complain.

  “Your Grace,” he said to him. “Let us speak in private.”

  David frowned. He glanced at Lady Pemperton to see that she wasn’t even aware of the fact that they were speaking. For the first time since he’d known her, she looked unaware of her surroundings, lost in her thoughts. This was a lady who seemed to pick up on everything that happened in her vicinity, yet she stared out the window like someone lost, not knowing where to go or what to do next.

  Looking back at Lord Pemperton, David nodded. As silently as they could, they slipped out of the parlor and made their way to David’s office. Once the door was closed behind them, Lord Pemperton took a deep breath and said, “I think we should prepare ourselves for what is to come.”

  David frowned. He leaned against his desk, crossing one leg over the other and folded his arms. “What do you think is coming, My Lord?”

  “Something tells me that this is the key to finding Miss Isabel. And in case this person was the one who actually took her, then we should be prepared to take him down if necessary.”

  David instantly knew what he was suggesting. In this townhouse, he had a room made specifically for his pistols, though it wasn’t a place he frequented very often.

  “Are you sure that will be necessary?” David asked. Last night’s happenings aside, he never actually thought violence was needed unless it was in the most extreme of circumstances.

  But if I learn that he is the one who has taken her, won’t that be an extreme circumstance?

  Lord Pemperton nodded, his face grim. He looked much worse for wear than his wife. David suspected that it was because he was older. “I think we should merely prepare ourselves in case of anything.”

  David nodded. He wasn’t going to deliberate on that for long. Facing Miss Isabel’s kidnapper was more than enough reason for him to do something he wouldn’t normally do, because this was a situation that the normal, mostly pacifist, David never saw himself in.

  Lord Pemperton didn’t say anything more and neither did David. They were both running on crazed energy, gearing up for the confrontation that they believed was about to happen. James ensured that the coffee kept coming and David could feel it humming through his veins as he made his way to the pistol room.

  They didn’t take very long choosing their own pistols and tucking them away so that Lady Pemperton didn’t see. Lord Pemperton claimed that he didn’t want to alarm his wife and David agreed, thinking it was best for her that she didn’t grow even more stressed thinking that there was a chance that someone may get hurt through all of this.

  As they were making their way back to the parlor, the butler approached them. He relayed the message he received back from Lord d’Ylles.

  “That’s wise thinking,” Lord Pemperton said. “It would make things much easier for us if he found something that will easily incriminate Lord de Xander, if he happens to be the culprit.”

  “Yes, but to have wasted our time waiting for him is very bothersome,” David grumbled. He didn’t let the annoyance seep in too far. At least, now he could take action.

  They didn’t go back to the parlor to inform Lady Pemperton that they were leaving. Urgency was now David’s biggest factor and so he left a message with the butler and hurried to his carriage. The pistol he had decided to carry with him sat snugly beneath the folds of his clothes as the coachman took them to their destination.

  Again, as was growing custom over the past few hours, silence settled over the carriage. David was imagining what he would say to the Count when he saw him, how he would turn the conversation so he could figure out if he had taken Miss Isabel. He had a vague idea of what Lord de Xander looked like from the last time he’d seen him, but that was so long ago that David didn’t know if it was an image he could rely on.

  It helped though, picturing himself in the Count’s Manor trying to get to the bottom of this situation. He believed that Lord Pemperton was doing the same and he saw how the Marquess would absently pat his side, as if ensuring to himself that his pistol was still there.

  At long last, they arrived at the Manor. David was nearly trembling with uneasiness that something bad was about to happen as they approached the front entrance.

  A short, stout man answered the door. His eyes registered surprise at the sight of them and for a brief second, they darted to the side. David grew even more on edge.

  He opened his mouth to speak but he didn’t get the chance to. There was a loud shout from inside that had him sprinting into the Manor, nearly knocking the butler over, with the Marquess right on his heels.

  He charged into the middle of the Manor without knowing where he was going. There were so many rooms that the shout could have come
from anywhere and he paused for a brief, antsy moment as he tried to figure out where to go next. Just then, he heard a loud crash and he headed in that direction, bursting in through the door of the room he thought it was originating from.

  He forced himself to stop, to get a good understanding of what was happening in the room before he acted. It only lasted for a moment. That was all the time he needed to see Lord d’Ylles charging after the other person in the room, who he assumed was Lord de Xander.

  It happened so quickly that David hardly had any time to move from the door. Lord de Xander was already being backed up against the wall with Lord d’Ylles dangerous approach and he looked around, as if he was searching for something to help defend himself. David noticed the exact moment his eyes landed on a poker by the fireplace and the Count made a grab for it, swinging it wildly before him. It caught Lord d’Ylles in the side of the head and forced him to his knees with a grunt of pain.

 

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