“My lord,” he said, his tone only a touch wary.
“Winstead,” he replied, forcing some level of common politeness as he extended a hand. “Thank you for seeing me.” Winstead nodded as he shook Stenfax’s hand. Then they sat. “I assume you know why I’m here.”
Winstead tilted his head. “I can only hazard a guess that this is about the Duchess of Kirkford.”
“Yes,” Stenfax said softly, examining the man closely for his reaction. How much did he want Elise? And how far had things truly gone between them? “It is about Elise.”
Winstead stood with a sigh and crossed to the sideboard where he poured two whiskeys. “I think we could both use these to buoy us through what seems is going to be a very uncomfortable discussion.”
“I know you offered to be her protector,” Stenfax said flatly.
Winstead froze in the midst of pouring and said, “I see.”
“It isn’t going to happen,” Stenfax said, bracing for whatever reaction Winstead might have to that statement.
There was none for a moment, but then Winstead turned. His expression was clear of any emotion, though he held Stenfax’s gaze evenly. He handed over the drink and Stenfax took it, though he didn’t drink. He wanted a very clear head in this moment and it was already clouded enough by jealousy.
“No?” Winstead said as he retook his seat calmly.
Stenfax shook his head slowly. “No. Elise is going to marry me.”
Winstead was silent for what felt like an eternity, and then said, “Is that what she told you, or is it merely your hope that she will agree?”
Stenfax stared. There was no fear in this young man, despite Stenfax’s superior title and what he knew was his bad attitude. He found himself rather liking Winstead, despite himself.
“I asked her this morning,” he said softly. “And she agreed.”
For the first time, Winstead frowned, and he set his drink on the table beside him. “She never mentioned that was a possibility.”
Stenfax shrugged. “Likely because she didn’t realize it was. Circumstances have changed and this is the best way forward for her. For us.”
Winstead examined him closely and then said, “Well, I can see why she would inspire such an action. She’s a remarkable woman.”
Stenfax tensed, gripping the chair arms with both hands as he fought every violent tendency that rushed through his body. “Yes,” he ground out.
Winstead arched a brow. “I never touched her beyond a kiss, Stenfax. And even that she hardly returned. I recognized her hesitance. I hoped once day she would overcome her reticence, but it seems it wasn’t meant to be.”
Stenfax blinked as those words sank in. Elise had said the same to him, that she had never bedded this man. He realized, in a horrible flash of truth, that some part of him had doubted her words. Some tiny inch still doubted her, even though he knew her motivations in leaving him all those years ago.
It seemed old habits died hard.
“She’s in danger, isn’t she?” Winstead asked, breaking into Stenfax’s thoughts.
He set his jaw, almost as troubled by the fact that Elise might have confided in this man as he was that she could have been with him. “Did she tell you that?”
“No. Not exactly. She implied her situation was precarious, but nothing more. The new Duke of Kirkford’s behavior toward her is obvious. When he dragged her to Lord and Lady Swinton’s party in a gown more suited for Vivien’s parlor than a proper one, it was clear he wished to destroy her. And then there is the fear that always seems to be in Elise’s eyes.” Winstead’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not a fool. I know she’s being threatened.”
Stenfax clenched the chair arms again. “Yes,” he admitted softly. “She is. The new duke is just as bad as the old one. She has not been safe in years, it seems.”
“He’s been heard around the clubs, you know, claiming there is some secret about her. Actually, he claims to be looking for access to the secrets of many a person. Especially when he’s drunk.”
Stenfax couldn’t mask his surprise that this man who’d wanted to be her lover would be so direct with the man who’d stolen her from him. “Did he say what he knew about Elise?”
“No. And right now I don’t think anyone believes him. He’s seen as a pathetic lout, truth be told.”
Stenfax let out a low sigh of relief. “I hope it stays that way,” he murmured. “I also hope you won’t turn whatever anger you may feel at losing her against her.”
Winstead tilted his head. “I’ll admit losing her stings a bit. But I’ll survive it. And I don’t think Elise deserves the censure or fear I think she’s endured. Not from Kirkford…not from anyone.”
Stenfax flinched, for the accusation was obvious in the young man’s tone. And that it was deserved, was the worst part. He had no defense over the truth.
“Well, I thank you for that promise. And for your kindness toward my future wife when she so obviously needed it. Good day, Winstead.”
He bowed stiffly and Winstead got up to follow him in to the foyer. They shook hands once more there, and Winstead said, “I truly hope you can find a way to make Elise happy. And yourself. It seems, after so long being separated that you both deserve that. Good day.”
Stenfax’s horse was brought around then and Winstead strode off, leaving Stenfax to digest what he’d said.
Elise didn’t deserve what had happened. Elise didn’t deserve to be threatened. Elise didn’t deserve to be abused. No, she did not. So he turned his horse toward not his own house, but another one.
And knew he’d break a promise he’d made not only to Elise, but to his brother.
Chapter Eighteen
The cart he’d sent with two of his largest footmen was pulling onto the drive at Elise’s dower house when he arrived. He rode his horse to the edge of the entryway and was readying himself to get down when he heard a rustle in the bushes beside him and his name whispered on the wind.
“Stenfax.”
He turned to find Gray moving onto the street. His brother folded his arms and arched a brow at him.
“Bloody hell,” Stenfax muttered as he placed his feet on the ground. “Did you follow me?”
“No,” Gray said. “Not followed. Just anticipated you’d do something so foolhardy. What are you thinking coming here, Lucien, after what we discussed earlier in the day at your home?”
Stenfax gripped his hands at his sides as rage boiled up in him. Rage he had controlled for a long time but now broke free.
“I will not turn tail and run away from a man who dared place his hands on the woman I love. Who dares to threaten my sister. I stood by idly for years, knowing his cousin had stolen all I held dear. Now I’m expected to send servants to collect Elise’s things, just to make sure I won’t offend that bastard of a new duke if he’s here? This is too damned much.”
Gray let out a sigh. “Is there any turning you from this path?”
“No,” Lucien said softly.
Gray nodded. “Well, I assumed there would not be. Come then, let’s go.”
Lucien leaned back. “You’re going with me?”
Gray chuckled. “Someone has to protect Kirkford.”
They exchanged a nod, then entered the drive as Stenfax’s footmen began their way up the steps. Both the servants looked surprised to see their master and gave bows.
“My lord?” the head footman said. “I-I didn’t realize—”
Stenfax held up a hand to stay him. “I know, thank you. Why don’t you and Cummings take the cart around back? I’ll have you let in there to do the moving.”
The men nodded and went back to their cart to move it. Stenfax drew a long breath, put his coldest expression on and knocked. A butler answered the door in a moment.
“May I help you?” he asked, his tone and demeanor harried.
“I’m here to retrieve the Duchess of Kirkford’s things,” he said, pushing past the man. “Have my servant
s let in and show them to her chamber.”
The servant gave a faint smile but then pushed it aside. “I see, sir.” He leaned in. “I must offer up some resistance, you know.”
Stenfax stiffened. “Does that mean the duke is in residence?” he whispered.
“In the west parlor, drinking and tearing down anything Her Grace decorated with. Also stoking the fire to burn her clothes.”
Stenfax clenched his fists, and Gray set a hand on his arm gently. “Make your arguments,” Gray suggested. “Loudly, and we will push past and go confront the duke. While we do so, allow the men in. They’re large. They overpowered you.”
The butler nodded, then stepped back and shouted, “What are you doing here? I don’t care who you are, you can’t just barge in here demanding to take my master’s things!”
Stenfax smiled and folded a coin into his fingers. “Thank you.”
“You’re certainly welcome, my lord,” the man said as he motioned for them to go to the parlor. He trailed behind as they did so and as Stenfax pushed the door open, he said, “I’m sorry, Your Grace, they couldn’t be stopped.”
As they stepped into the room, all three of them stopped and the butler jerked a hand to his mouth with a gasp. The new Duke of Kirkford was not thrashing about the room as had been described, exacting revenge on Elise’s belongings.
Instead he was lying on the floor before the fireplace, a knife sticking out of his chest.
Gray rushed forward, dropping to his knees before the man. “He’s still alive,” he cried out. “Call for the guard and a doctor!”
The butler ran to do so, leaving Stenfax and Gray to the duke. Stenfax moved forward, staring at the face of his enemy. The new duke had as cruel a face as the last one, and he couldn’t feel sorry that he’d been attacked.
Gray looked up at him. “It’s bad,” he murmured.
Kirkford moaned. “I can’t breathe,” he panted.
“The blood is filling his lungs,” Stenfax said as he observed the position of the knife. “I don’t think there’s much that can be done.”
Kirkford’s eyes went wide with fear. Slowly Stenfax sank to his haunches and looked him in the eye. “You tried to hurt Elise, so I feel no pity for you. But I will try to bring you justice, not that you deserve it. Who did this to you?”
Kirkford was gasping for air now, and there was a wheezing, sucking sound to it. “My—my cousin, Roger,” he managed weakly. “We were born on the same day, he challenged me as heir to the dukedom. He never got over that I won.”
Gray and Stenfax exchanged a look. “You told Elise there was a book,” Gray said, placing a hand on Stenfax’s chest to keep him from talking. He understood why, Gray was more likely to massage the information out of Kirkford than he was. “Where is it?”
Kirkford coughed and blood trickled from his mouth and nose. But he still smiled, a disgusting, red-toothed grin. “You’re afraid of the book? You should be. I know it has secrets. I…found it. Would…have…destroyed…when…I…understood.” His words came slower now, more labored as he drowned in his blood. “Roger…took…it…”
He sucked in one last breath and then it all hissed out. He stopped moving, and he was gone.
“Goddamn it!” Stenfax roared, getting to his feet and scrubbing a hand through his hair. “So now the book isn’t hidden, it’s in the wild.”
Gray slid a hand over the duke’s eyes, closing them gently before he got to his feet. “What did he mean by ‘when I understood’?”
“I don’t know,” Stenfax said. “Perhaps he didn’t have time to read it before Roger came and killed him, taking it with him?”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Gray said. Then he pointed toward the body. “Look, what’s that in his hand?”
Stenfax crouched down again and saw what his brother indicated. A piece of torn paper sticking out of Kirkford’s clenched fist. He pried his fingers open gently and pulled it loose. They held it up together, looking at it. It was an odd jumble of letters, not spelling out anything Stenfax understood.”
The brothers exchanged a look. “It’s code,” Stenfax said. “The book is in code, that’s what Kirkford meant.”
“And since he didn’t understand, I think we can safely assume that Roger would need to break it, as well, before he could use it against anyone, including Felicity.”
A small fraction of relief pierced the horrified feeling in Stenfax’s chest. “So we may have some time,” he murmured.
“A little, anyway,” Gray said. “We should take this to the Earl of Stalwood. He worked with Dane for years. He can help us with the code.”
He shoved the paper in his pocket just as members of the guard burst into the room and chaos descended. Stenfax stepped away as they approached and began to question them. His score with the new Duke of Kirkford had been settled, but he felt no joy in it. Elise might be safer, but now he would have to tell her, and Felicity, that this mysterious book was out there.
And he didn’t look forward to that.
Elise watched Rosalinde pace the parlor, looking at the clock over and over again. “I have no idea why Gray is so late.”
“He is never late?”
Rosalinde shook her head. “Not without sending me word. And he looked very…well, he was acting suspiciously when he departed, so I wonder what trouble he’s gotten into.”
“Come sit,” Elise said, patting the settee beside her. When Rosalinde did so, she turned in her place a little to face her. “I knew Gray as a boy, you know.”
Rosalinde’s worried expression softened a little. “Yes, I know. He has told me many a tale of you and Felicity following him and Stenfax and Asher around.”
“I’m sure until recently I was a reluctant part of those stories, considering his feelings for me,” Elise said.
Rosalinde squeezed her hand. “Gray is the most loyal brother I’ve ever met. He fought hard against Stenfax’s marriage to my sister just because he felt you had hurt Stenfax in the past. It nearly tore us apart.”
Elise smiled at her. “But you survived. And I will tell you that thinking of the boy I knew all those years ago, I never would have thought he would be capable of the love I see him display with you, Rosalinde. You have truly captured his heart and made him a different person.”
“I hope that is not true, for I adore the person he is in every way. Flaws and all, just as he does me.” Rosalinde tilted her head. “Perfection is not required, nor is molding ourselves to be something new or never making a mistake. But owning up to our mistakes is paramount. Which is what you did today.”
Elise sighed. “And I got an engagement to a man who doesn’t know what to do with me out of it.”
“You love him,” Rosalinde said softly.
Elise looked at her. Unlike Felicity or Gray or Stenfax, she had no history with this woman. Nothing preconceived or bitter from the years that had separated them. And there was something in Rosalinde’s kind and beautiful face that inspired honesty.
“I never stopped loving him,” Elise admitted, her breath catching. “Never once in all this time. That was my prison, not anything that bastard Kirkford ever did or created.”
“You will overcome this,” Rosalinde whispered.
The door to the parlor opened and Gray entered, followed by Stenfax. Both women jumped to their feet, though for Rosalinde it was in relief. Elise was just surprised. Stenfax hadn’t seemed to want to see her again today, and yet he was here, staring at her evenly.
“Where in the world were you?” Rosalinde asked as she kissed Gray openly and rather shamelessly.
He let her for a moment, then pulled back with a grim look for Stenfax. “I’ll explain, but come with me. Stenfax must tell Elise something.”
Elise stiffened as she stared at him. Tell her something? That couldn’t mean anything good. Not when he looked slightly sick.
Rosalinde took Gray’s arm, giving Elise one last concerned look before they left the pa
rlor. As they shut the door, Elise stepped toward Stenfax.
“Are you ending our engagement?” she whispered.
His lips parted in surprise. “No, Elise. Of course not.”
Relief flowed through her and she somehow managed to stay on her feet as her knees wobbled. Stenfax stepped closer, taking her elbow to steady her. That touch spread warmth through her entire body, and she looked up at him slowly.
He pressed his lips together. “Sit. This is…well, I don’t know how you will take the news I’ve come to share.”
She retook her place on the settee and he put himself next to her. Close enough that his leg brushed hers and set off a torrent of reaction through her body. He merely stared at her, though, as if he didn’t know what to say.
“Did your meeting with Winstead go poorly?” she asked, hoping she could encourage him to explain.
He rubbed a hand over his face. “No, that actually went fine. You have nothing to fear from him, so it isn’t that.”
She rested a hand on his leg and squeezed. She felt his thigh muscle tighten against her hand and his pupils dilated slightly.
“What is it?” she whispered. “Trust me.”
He caught his breath at the use of that word again. That word that hung between them. He nodded. “Yes, I must in this case. You deserve it. I know I agreed not to go to your dower house, Elise. But…I did.”
She caught her breath. “Oh, Lucien. Was Ambrose there? Did you have a confrontation, did—”
“He’s dead, Elise.”
She stared at him a moment as his words sank in. Then she scooted back, as if she could separate herself from this horror. “No,” she moaned, the sound low and pained and not expressing half the agony she felt. “Oh, please tell me you didn’t, Lucien.”
He caught her hands and held tight. “I didn’t,” he vowed. “I may have wanted to, but I wouldn’t have for I knew it would only complicate this terrible situation. No, when Gray and I arrived, he was already…dying. He’d been stabbed. By his cousin.”
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