Geek Girls Don't Date Dukes gg-2

by Gina Lamm

  “Mackenzie.” Avery caught the stable master by the neck. “You will tell me what I need to know, and you will tell me now.”

  * * *

  Shouts woke her, though she hadn’t realized she’d fallen asleep. Angry male voices—it was hard to tell how many—arguing and cursing one another. The sharp crack of gunfire made her jump, and she struggled to sit up. Her body groaned and protested, but she managed to prop herself against a wall. She pushed against the wall with her bound hands behind her and struggled to her feet.

  Damn it, if only she could freaking see! She could run while they were distracted if she just had a peephole. But while the weave of the bag was loose enough to allow oxygen to flow to her, it wasn’t large enough in the dim room to give her a clear line of vision.

  She had to do something. She was tired of lying here and waiting for someone to either kill her or rape her.

  Her scream was so loud it nearly pierced her own eardrums. She stumbled but pressed back against the wall to steady herself. Let them ignore that if they could.

  * * *

  Avery was nearly out of his head with worry by the time he located the secluded hovel in the woods that Mackenzie had confessed was Leah’s prison. His horse had pulled up lame, and he’d had the devil of a time finding another. She’d been in their custody for nearly a full day. Anything could have happened to her. How could he know the brigands Prachett had hired would leave her unharmed?

  Blackhearted devils. If they’d hurt her, he’d kill them all with his bare hands. Gladly.

  He circled the area, making the best of the fading daylight. There were no lookouts posted. Of course, Prachett knew that Miss Ramsey was not really of the ton and therefore had no powerful allies to come to her aid.

  Cold rage had replaced the angry passion of the morning, and Avery was glad of it. He could examine the situation much more clearly and rescue her that much sooner.

  The mare picked her way over a thin stream, and Avery dismounted once they’d reached the other side. He tightened the makeshift bandage on his forearm, wincing as pain blossomed. There was very likely a broken bone, but he had no time to tend to it. There would be time enough once Leah was safe.

  The reins rasped softly against the branch of a young willow as he tied them. With a whisper of gratitude to the black mare, he crept through the twilight woods toward the cabin. He moved swiftly and silently, taking care to step on damp earth. Bodies milled by the door of the cabin, and he crouched to better count his opponents.

  He’d only counted four of them when angry shouts echoed through the woods and a shot rang out. Leah’s bloodcurdling scream pierced his heart.

  His feet pounded against the earth as he bolted for the cabin. Had she been shot? Oh God, had he come so close only to lose her like this?

  The duke’s voice ground him to a halt at the last ring of trees before the building. “Oh my darling, are you harmed?”

  “No, no, I’m fine.” Her voice rang clear, though her tone was thin.

  Leah. Avery sank to his knees in relief at the sound of her voice. She was whole. A strange sensation pricked at his eyes, but he rubbed it away. He staggered to his feet, ignoring the nerveless feeling in his legs. He must go to her. He must assure himself that she was unharmed.

  He rushed past the duke’s carriage but pulled up short at the sight inside.

  His Grace’s arms were around Leah, locked in a passionate embrace. Her beautiful lashes dusted her cheeks as her arms were wrapped around his neck in the picture of perfect pleasure.

  Avery’s heart crumbled to dust in that moment.

  He waited for a breath or two, hoping, praying that the vision was false. When the duke murmured to her softly, Avery slammed his eyes shut and staggered backward.

  She hadn’t stopped him.

  He turned and strode for the horse, ignoring the looks of the men who milled around the front of the cabin.

  He’d been too late. Much, much too late.

  The sight of their embrace seared itself into his brain, a throbbing reminder of what he’d lost. A dark laugh escaped him as he freed the black mare from the willow. Had he expected Leah to throw over a duke for the love of a valet? A poor man with no home, no coin, and a past that put her in mortal danger?

  He’d been so stupid. So very stupid.

  * * *

  The journey back to London was a long and lonely one. Along the way, he recounted each and every one of his sins in the past few months. The list lasted him until he reached the outskirts of Town, and even then he was certain he’d forgotten a few.

  He must return to Granville House and claim his meager possessions. Then find employment somewhere. He was certain he’d get no reference from His Grace after the way he’d declared his participation in Prachett’s scandal. The lack would make things more difficult, to be sure, but he’d as soon never speak to His Grace again after the embrace he’d witnessed. The man had rescued Leah when he had not, and that made him a better mate. She deserved nothing less than a duke.

  Avery slammed his eyes shut as the pain locked its grip about his heart again.

  “Leah, why?”

  The whispered question was unanswered, as he’d expected. A man such as he did not deserve answers.

  He’d failed her. He’d allowed her to come to harm. How could he blame her for choosing the duke?

  He dismounted at Granville House’s stables, rubbing down his horse and returning the tack to its proper place. The young stable lad eyed him curiously but kept his distance.

  His steps were leaden as he moved toward the house. He could not remain at Granville House with Leah as its mistress. Though his sins were many, and his punishment justly deserved, that was a pain he could not endure.

  The chatter in the servants’ hall died as he entered the room. Scents of boiled mutton and cabbage greeted his nostrils, but he paid no heed to the growling in his belly. He could not stomach any more derision from his fellow servants, even to satisfy his hunger. With a polite nod to the gaping maids and dumbfounded footmen, he walked toward the stairs.

  “Russell.”

  Smythe’s voice stopped him. Avery shut his eyes but did not turn.

  “Yes?”

  A chair scraped back and a gentle, fatherly hand lay on Avery’s shoulder. “Sit. Eat. You must be weary.”

  Avery waited a heartbeat for a blow to fall. It didn’t. “May I ask why?”

  The hand disappeared, but Smythe did not. The man’s voice was gentle as he spoke. “Mackenzie left not long ago, raving about Prachett, the mills, and your involvement. We had assumed the worst about you, and Mackenzie fostered that bad opinion. We’ve wronged you, my lad, and we would make it right.”

  The kindness nearly felled him. He took a deep breath and faced Smythe.

  “I thank you, sir.”

  Smythe held his chair out for him. Mrs. Harper brought a wet cloth for him to wipe his hands and face, and Cook served him a double portion of mutton. Teresa promised to tend to his wounds once he’d finished his meal, and Henrietta looked at him as if he were an avenging warrior returning home.

  The delicious food was tinged with both acceptance and bitterness.

  He’d found his place only to have to leave it behind.

  Twenty-Eight

  Leah was limp. There was no strength left in her body. It had all been wrenched away by a euphoric glee that stemmed from not being tied up and smothered by a burlap bag anymore. When the duke had removed that barrier between her and the world, she’d been so overcome that she’d hugged him.

  He’d patted her back, comforting her. He really was a good man.

  “Thank you so much for saving me,” she said. “I don’t know why they took me, but I’m so grateful you came.”

  “It is my fault, dearest Miss Ram.” He patted her hand. “I should never have allowed you to wander the paths alone. It was foolishness.”

  “Yeah, it was pretty stupid of me.” She rubbed at her wrists, taking in her surroundings. �
��Granville, what men do you have with you?”

  His brows arched curiously, but he answered, “My driver, the tiger, and two footmen.”

  She couldn’t help but be disappointed. Where the hell was Avery? “I’m sorry, I’m feeling a little faint. Can you take me back to Lady Chesterfield’s?”

  “Of course,” Granville said tenderly, and snapped his fingers. A man leaped forward and fetched the carriage, which had been parked just out of sight.

  Granville handed her into the carriage, and she settled herself on the plush seat. As soon as the conveyance rumbled to a start, she lay her head back against the cushions.

  This wasn’t right. None of this was right. Why had those guys taken her? She didn’t have anything they could want.

  Avery’s absence wasn’t the only thing that smelled funny. That Scottish accent had been really familiar. She frowned. Wasn’t the stable master Scottish? The one that had tried to get fresh with her that time?

  Mackenzie—that was his name. Could his have been the voice that had stopped the jerks from violating her? On the one hand, she was really grateful he’d stopped them. But on the other, what was he doing there at all?

  The carriage’s sudden stop scared the crap out of her. She jumped, clutching at her thundering heart to keep it from leaping out of her chest. Sunlight streamed through the carriage windows.

  Oh. She’d been asleep.

  “Why have we arrived at Granville Place?” The duke’s expression was cross as he called up to the driver.

  “My apologies, Your Grace. I had thought…”

  “We must return Miss Ram to Lady Chesterfield’s.” Granville turned back to Leah. “I do apologize, my dear. However, since we’ve arrived at my home, is there anything that you require?”

  Leah shook her head quickly. “No, thank you, Granville. I need to get back to Lady Chesterfield. I’m sure she’s really worried.”

  Granville nodded. “Of course. But allow me to fetch a horse for the return journey. I must go and speak with the magistrate as soon as possible regarding this matter. Those responsible will be punished.”

  “O…kay.” He had descended the carriage before she could get the whole word out.

  She watched as he entered the house. A glimpse down the street caught an unexpected sight.

  Avery, wearing a coat and hat and bearing a leather bag similar to the one he’d given her, was walking away from Granville House.

  She’d hit the pavement before her brain caught up. Hauling her wrinkled and dirty skirts up, she took off running toward him.

  “Avery,” she called, heart pounding with more than exertion. She hadn’t realized how desperate she was to see him. He was her sanity in this freaking crazy world. “Avery, wait!”

  He didn’t turn, only walked more quickly away from her.

  “Oh, the hell you are,” she snarled and put on a burst of speed. She caught him as he rounded the corner, grabbing his arm and pulling until he stopped.

  “What is wrong with you? Didn’t you hear me?”

  He didn’t look her in the eyes, just kept staring straight ahead.

  “My apologies, Miss Ramsey.”

  “Wait, where are you going?” Her heart thumped even louder now. Something was wrong—horribly, horribly wrong.

  “That is none of your concern.” His soft reply pierced her through.

  She stared up into his face, trying to understand what was going on. But no matter how she framed it, it didn’t make any sense.

  “You owe me an explanation.”

  He laughed bitterly. “I have done enough to you. You have made your decision, and I was a fool to ever think otherwise. I wish you a wonderful marriage.”

  He bowed curtly and walked away before she had a chance to form a reply.

  “Avery,” she whispered. No, no, no! What was she doing? How could she let him walk away?

  She picked up her skirts to run after him again. “Avery!”

  Her shout was drowned out by the hoof beats of an approaching horse. She glanced over her shoulder, and the sight brought her to a halt.

  The carriage and the duke were there behind her. “Come, my dear. Amelia is beside herself with worry.”

  With a reluctant glance toward Avery, Leah allowed the duke to help her into the carriage.

  * * *

  Lady Chesterfield clucked like the chicken she’d probably murdered to have such a fluffy feathered gown. The duke left after entrusting Leah to her doting chaperone’s care, promising to call on them tomorrow.

  “I have never been so worried in all my days, dear Leah. Are you harmed in any way?” Genuine concern threaded the woman’s words.

  “I’m fine.” Leah sniffed. “I’m just tired. Do you mind if I have a bath and go to bed?”

  Lady Chesterfield’s pudgy hand patted Leah’s cheek. “Of course, my dear. But I must say how dashing the duke appeared carrying you into the house!”

  “Yup. Totes dashing.” Leah’s dry tone sailed right over Lady Chesterfield’s head.

  Leah trudged up the stairs, looking forward to no less than thirty-six hours of total oblivion. And then she’d figure out how the crap to get back into Granville House and activate the mirror to get her home.

  Man, she was going to need weeks of therapy to get over this so-called adventure.

  Hushed voices from inside Leah’s bedroom piqued her interest. She slowed, reaching for the door handle but hesitating as she tried to place the voices inside.

  Muriel was there, but that other voice…so familiar…

  “Ella!” Leah threw open the door and hugged her friend tightly. “Oh my God, I am so incredibly happy to see you.”

  Ella pulled away long before Leah was ready to let her go. But then Leah saw her face. Her cheeks were tear-stained, her eyes red. Ella wasn’t a crier. Something was up.

  Leah’s chest tightened to a near-unbearable level. “What’s wrong?”

  She knew it before the words left Ella’s mouth.

  “It’s your grandfather. He’s bad, Leah. It was a heart attack, and they don’t think he’s going to last much longer.”

  And with that, Leah crumbled inside. The last reserves of strength that had held her upright, had dared her to believe that she and Avery would reconcile, that she could take him home and they’d be happy and Pawpaw would feel better and not have to worry about her, melted away. The world shimmered, and she stumbled.

  Ella grabbed her shoulders and looked into Leah’s face. “Come on, don’t do this. He needs you to be strong.”

  “How?” Leah whispered, tears already burning her cheeks. “How can I be without them both?”

  Ella shook her head, confused. “I’m sorry, sweetie. We have to get back to the mirror as soon as we can. Mrs. Knightsbridge is having trouble keying into the right times now, and if we don’t hurry, we might end up in ancient Egypt or something.” Ella pressed her forehead to Leah’s. “Come on. Keep it together for me, okay?”

  Leah nodded numbly. Ella and Muriel flew around the room, making preparations for their hasty departure.

  How had things gotten so bad?

  * * *

  Avery’s heart, which had hardened over his last night in Granville House, had grown cracks since he’d seen her again. Even on the duke’s arm, she’d still been the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. She made him want to believe he was wrong about what he’d seen.

  His stride shortened, and he stopped. Tilting his chin skyward, he searched the beautiful blue sky for answers.

  There were none.

  A nearby park beckoned, offering sanctuary from the crowded street. Avery sank onto a bench not far from the entrance.

  He had bungled things. All of them. He’d not been there for her when she’d needed him. He’d not protected her from that blackguard Prachett. And now he was running away like a beaten dog with its tail between its legs.

  Anger stirred in his belly.

  How could he be such a coward? How could he abandon her with no wo
rd of apology? He loved her, damn it! He loved her and he’d fought for her. He loved her and he’d take revenge on the man who’d dared lay a hand on her.

  He shoved himself to his feet and took off for Granville House at a dead run. The duke would help him. He must help him. If he felt even half of what Avery did for Leah, then he’d tear hell apart with his bare hands to get revenge on Prachett.

  The meek valet had disappeared, but Prachett had finally woken the sleeping monster that had lain dormant within Avery for so long.

  Twenty-Nine

  Smythe answered Avery’s knock on the area door.

  “Russell.” A smile stretched the butler’s lips. “You’ve returned?”

  “Only for a moment, Smythe.” Avery set his bag down by the door and removed his coat. “I must speak with His Grace. Is he at home?”

  Smythe shook his head. “No, he has not yet returned from Lady Chesterfield’s home. I have not yet informed him of your decision to leave us.”

  “Thank you, Smythe. I will speak with him myself.” Avery mounted the stairs.

  The door to His Grace’s bedchamber squeaked softly as it opened. Avery stepped inside, his spine straight and his heartbeat steady. He wasn’t surprised to see Prachett rise from a seat by the fireside.

  “You have ruined everything,” Prachett said in a surprisingly calm voice.

  Avery prowled closer to him, his knuckles tingling with the need to plow themselves into the man’s jaw. “You deserve to be ruined. How dare you lay a finger on her?”

  The rage rushed over Avery, and this time he relished the power it brought. He leaped onto Prachett’s back, bringing the thin man to the ground with little effort. His fist connected with the man’s head. He pulled free as Prachett rolled to his back, snarling.

  Avery ducked as Prachett threw a punch of his own. From his lower position, Avery shot forward, his shoulder landing in the man’s midsection. The two tumbled to the Aubusson carpet, trading blows. Avery’s were practiced and punishing, Prachett’s were well placed and cruel. Rolling to the side to avoid a vicious right, Avery grunted as his lower back connected sharply with the foot of the bureau. Pain rippled through him, but he ignored it, pushing to his feet.