Footsteps headed toward her, and too late, she remembered that she should have used this opportunity to grab a vase or pick up a chair to toss at her abductor. Her heartbeat quickened, she glanced around the room—and the door opened.
In the next moment, her kidnapper reappeared. He was carrying something white in his arms. Something that caused Galileo’s barks to grow more agitated. Something that looked curiously fluffy.
She stared. “Is that a cat?”
Her kidnapper beamed. “Indeed.”
“What are you doing with it?”
“Bringing it, of course,” he said lightly, as if it were the most normal thing in the world for kidnappers to travel with their pets. “We’ll be gone for a while.”
She blinked.
“We’ll need to leave this area,” he said.
She nodded.
“Princess Aria, please meet Lady Octavia.”
Aria stared at a fluffy white cat. The cat meowed, turned, and snuggled into Rupert’s arms.
“She’s a bit shy,” her kidnapper said, petting his cat.
“I see that.” Aria leaned closer to inspect her new companion.
Lady Octavia snarled and strode from the room.
“And she’s not particularly polite,” Rupert said. “She’s not accustomed to guests.”
Aria glanced at Galileo. “Well, he’s not accustomed to cats.”
“We should probably travel with some food,” Rupert said. “I’ll raid the larder.”
She nodded weakly. The man seemed terribly domestic.
He padded into the kitchen, then turned to her. “You can join me.”
She did so and followed him into it. Gray tile stones lined the floor, and she gazed around.
He glanced at her. “You look bewildered.”
“I’ve never been in a kitchen before.”
He chuckled, and his voice sounded warm and silky in her ear. “Well, glance around.”
She did so. A row of intimidating-looking knives hung from the wall. It would be easy to grab one. Her kidnapper was occupied with selecting food from the pantry. Her heartbeat quickened, and she inched toward the knives. Various sayings were stitched onto art pieces hanging on the wall, beside innocuous flowers.
“Who’s cottage is this?”
“Mine, of course,” her kidnapper replied.
She frowned. “I suppose you’re jealous of your cousin. I suppose you want to live in a castle like him. I suppose you want to have more money.”
The man chuckled. “That, princess, is absurd.” He tilted his head up, while still methodically filling a basket with bread, cutlery, and fruit. “Though more money would be nice.”
“Ha.” She quickly grabbed a knife and hid it in the folds of her dress. She moved toward him. Perhaps he wanted to steal her jewels, after all. He needn’t have stolen her as well, but perhaps, he’d been searching for them when she’d entered the room. Obviously, she’d been wearing her finest necklace, her finest earrings, and her finest bracelets for her wedding. She’d wished he’d just taken her gifts rather than taking her.
Father would pay a fortune to have her returned. Perhaps the duke would, too.
She inched toward the pantry door. It would be easy to lock him inside, especially now that she had a knife. Her heart tightened, but she wasn’t certain whether it was from nervousness at how he might react, or whether she might be doing the wrong thing.
She inhaled, then slammed the door, shutting him into the pantry.
“Princess?” he asked, his voice startled.
She glanced around the room, then pushed a sideboard in front of the pantry door.
He fiddled with the lock. Then he banged on the door. The sideboard began to move, and she could see him through the crack.
“Let me out of here,” he ordered.
“No,” she said. “You kidnapped me.”
He rolled his eyes. “Rescued you.”
A knock sounded on the main door, interrupting their conversation. Her kidnapper widened his eyes, but Aria beamed. Darling Dudley had discovered she was missing. Aria scrambled toward the sound.
They’d found her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
HEAVENS. She hadn’t been gone for long, but clearly, they’d already searched the surrounding area with a sufficient methodical manner to track her down.
Lady Octavia gave a disgruntled look, then hopped onto the sideboard.
A wave of guilt hit her, but it didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to focus on that. Her kidnapper would be able to free himself from the pantry...she just needed a head start and help.
The door opened, and happiness moved through her. Of course, he wouldn’t wait around for someone to open the door. She hurried. “I’m on my way.”
“Princess Aria, no!” her kidnapper shouted.
She rolled her eyes. The door opened, and a man entered.
Her husband.
Dudley wasn’t clothed in his wedding attire anymore. Instead, he wore a dressing gown. He must have noticed she was missing when he’d gone to visit her at night. Her stomach clenched.
“I was taken,” she said. “I didn’t mean to leave.”
Her husband stared at her. His face was solemn, immobile, as if he were one of the trees that stood staunchly outside her uncle’s palace in Stockholm. “My cousin took you?”
She nodded rapidly, relief easing through her. “Obviously, I wouldn’t have gone with him on my own.”
She tried to laugh, but nothing about this situation was amusing. She’d been discovered alone in a strange man’s house on her wedding night. Perhaps some women took lovers after they were married, but they always waited until they’d fulfilled their wifely duty of procuring an heir and sufficient spares for their husbands. They didn’t go to strange men’s houses on the first night of their marriages.
Her heartbeat quickened. “He abducted me.”
“Is that so?” Dudley’s tone may as well have been made entirely of ice, and she shivered.
The duke turned his head. “Where is he?”
Aria swallowed hard. Perhaps she’d overemphasized the kidnapper’s cruelty. She didn’t want anything to happen to him.
“I’ll kill him,” her husband muttered. He opened the door to a drawing room, and Aria didn’t tell him the kidnapper was trapped in the kitchen.
Suddenly, it seemed more important that her husband remain calm.
“You mustn’t hurt him,” she pleaded.
“I’ll do what I bloody well please.”
She froze, but then ran after her husband as he began to inspect other rooms in the house.
“I mean, he didn’t threaten me with a weapon,” she said.
Dudley was silent and continued to search the rooms.
“In fact,” Aria said hastily, “I think it must have been a misunderstanding.”
Her husband swirled around. “What do you mean?”
Aria hesitated. Finally, she said, “h-he seemed under the impression that you desired to murder me.” She forced herself to laugh, though the action made her chest hurt. “Obviously, it’s absurd. He must have misheard you.”
“Yes,” her husband said tersely.
“It was probably a joke,” she said, but her voice raised at the end, and she realized she was shaking.
“He shouldn’t have told you that.”
“It was a mistake,” Aria blurted. “He was being cautious.”
Dudley swirled around and snarled. “You shouldn’t keep defending him.”
“N-no.” She shook her head rapidly. “I-I didn’t mean—”
“Stop talking.” Her husband raised a hand up. “I’m trying to listen. He must be here somewhere.”
Aria nodded. The air filled with tension.
She was frightened, she realized. But she was frightened of her husband.
A sour taste filled her throat.
Perhaps she’d made a mistake. Perhaps her kidnapper had been more of a rescuer than a kidnapper, after all. Perhaps
she’d been too stubborn to listen to him, too worried he might be correct to contemplate the fact she’d made a horrible mistake.
She’d been so certain she loved Dudley. Every letter from him had caused her heart to skip and swirl. He’d listened to her so well. He’d remembered every detail she’d said. He’d seemed to... care.
And though she’d been surprised the man she’d met at the ball could be so tender, she’d been willing to believe it.
Too willing.
Perhaps she shouldn’t have scoffed when Miss Daisy Holloway had approached her several months ago to match her with the Duke of Hammett. Perhaps she had actually hoped for love, and not simply been vaguely bored, as she’d assumed. Even when the duke had tossed her into a river—inadvertent, but not an indication of great tenderness toward her, she’d still agreed to meet the duke again.
Heavens. When had she become so eager for romance? When had she become so eager to find it, no matter what common sense might say?
Because this—this was absolutely what she’d never wanted. She didn’t want a husband with a red face, and she didn’t want a husband with his fingers tightened into fists. She didn’t want a husband who marched about someone else’s home, upturning trunks and peering under sofas, muttering how he was about to commit various acts of violence.
No, this was absolutely what she’d never desired. She wanted to find someone who loved her. She wanted a love like Daisy had found. There were always people intrigued by her title, but she’d longed her for someone who adored her for simply her.
She’d been naive.
Her throat tightened. “Did you write me those letters?”
He stopped and glared. “What does that have to do with anything?”
She hesitated.
He rolled his eyes. “Let me guess... He told you I didn’t.”
Aria was silent. She shifted her legs, as if finding a new placement might make it easier for her to stand. Her fingers trembled and shook, and she held them at her sides. The walls of the cottage narrowed, and the ceiling lowered.
She was alone.
Everyone was gone. Was her kidnapper right?
Her legs quivered.
I mustn’t faint. I mustn’t faint. I mustn’t faint.
Heavens. She still wore her wedding gown. She was decked in her finest dress, adorned for the happiest day of her life.
And it wasn’t happy.
At all.
Her throat dried, but she forced herself to speak. “Well... Is it true?”
He snarled.
And she was certain it was true.
He wasn’t even going to bother to lie to her. He certainly wasn’t going to approach her softly, hold her hands in his, gaze tenderly in her eyes, and assure her that he had written every word and that he meant every word. He wasn’t going to tell her he loved her, and he wasn’t going to tell her he was happy she was safe.
No.
He was focused on murdering his cousin.
Just like he was probably focused on murdering me earlier.
Her heart hammered, and even though it was in his presence, it was not because she was experiencing true love’s magic.
She needed to stop him. She’d made a dreadful mistake.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Blast.
Dudley was in the cottage.
If only the princess hadn’t been frightened of Rupert. If only he’d been able to reassure her better. He’d thought she’d believed him.
He sighed. He couldn’t blame her for being loyal to her husband.
Rupert was simply a man she’d never heard about before, and to whom she had never even received an appropriate introduction.
But heavens... She was in danger. She was alone with the duke now. Would Dudley kill her? Was he so eager to return to his mistress and tell her that he’d handled the princess problem and that she could begin planning their wedding at once?
Nausea moved through Rupert’s throat, and his heartbeat quickened.
Princess Aria might die.
He froze, hearing Dudley pound about the cottage, upturning various things with the vigor of a rhinoceros. If Dudley found him in this vulnerable position, he had little doubt his cousin would kill him.
Rupert slowly, softly pushed the door. Lady Octavia shot him a startled look; she didn’t appreciate having the furniture she was on moved. She hopped off the sideboard, and his heart sank.
Don’t hide.
Fortunately, she hopped back onto the sideboard, still curious about what he was doing. He looked around the pantry and picked up some items.
Then he put them softly onto the floor and climbed on top.
Success.
Though he could move the sideboard on his own by shoving the door, he had no desire to cause it to crash onto the floor. Instead, he poked his torso over the sideboard, grasped hold of it, then slowly—ever so slowly, wriggled out.
He was doing it.
Unfortunately, his cousin had become silent. Though there were some definite advantages to Dudley being silent, he wanted to hear what Dudley was doing. Silence could mean he was harming the princess.
Strangling her.
Stabbing her.
Shooting her.
Rupert shuddered, and a bitter taste invaded his throat again. Well, perhaps he would have heard if Dudley had shot her, though Dudley wasn’t an expert ammunition loader at the best of times. That was a task his cousin left to his servants, and even Dudley wouldn’t want a servant to witness what he intended to do now.
His heart pounded, but he squeezed the rest of his body through the opening. He was going to look even more disheveled. Rescuing people was a task filled with difficulties. He had a greater appreciation for heroes in general.
And I’m not one of them.
He pushed that thought aside. Right now, the princess needed him. He grabbed Lady Octavia, then tiptoed toward the front of the house.
His heart quaked and shook, but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t going to force him to stop, no matter how tempted he might be to do just that. Perhaps his carriage was ready to go, perhaps he could simply sneak out a window, or heavens, the kitchen door the servants used, but he wasn’t going to leave Aria with this man.
It didn’t matter if she despised him; it didn’t even matter that she’d trapped him in a pantry. He gave a wry smile. It had been at least thoughtful of her to leave him in the place in the house with the most food.
He could easily escape through the servant’s door in the kitchen, but he refrained from fleeing.
Instead, he crept over the rug in the hallway. How odd that this place where he’d grown up, this place he’d known since he was a child, which was filled with warm, happy memories could be so dangerous. And yet... That’s exactly what it was.
He moved slowly through the corridor, thankful he knew the placement of each rug and of each creaking board. He held Lady Octavia and petted her, willing her not to yowl or flee.
Instead, she let out a contented purr. He grimaced. That was not optimal, either.
He moved quickly to the drawing room. He’d thought the last sounds he’d heard were from there.
He tiptoed to the door. Thankfully, it was open, and he glanced through the entrance with trepidation, half-expecting to see the princess’s mangled body before him.
He craned his neck, not seeing anything. Suddenly heavy footsteps met him, and the door was yanked open.
His stomach sank. That couldn’t be the princess.
Indeed, it was not. His cousin grabbed hold of his collar and dragged him into the room. The drawing room, that location of countless tea-drinking chit-chats with his mother while she still lived, suddenly seemed ominous.
Would this be the last thing he would see? Was this the end?
“Don’t hurt him,” Princess Aria exclaimed, rushing to Dudley. “You mustn’t.”
“I’ll do what I bloody well want to,” Dudley muttered.
Dudley had never listened to the attempts of
his female relatives to imbue him with a courteous vocabulary, and evidently, he hadn’t decided to rectify his ways now.
“You shouldn’t have told the princess,” Dudley growled.
“It was my duty.”
“Damn you,” Dudley howled in a frustrated manner. “Your duty is with your family. I trusted you.”
Rupert’s heart plummeted downward. Though the duke and he had never been particularly close, given their age difference, the duke had been present at every celebration in Rupert’s childhood. Every Christmas, every Easter, had been spent visiting Laventhorpe Castle.
The duke was his family.
The only family left.
“You told me I could trust you,” Dudley said in a mournful manner, and Rupert’s shoulders slumped automatically.
“Not about this,” Rupert said miserably.
“You’re so naïve.” Dudley threw up his hands in obvious exasperation. He paced the room. “Now, what am I going to do with you two? You both know too much.”
Dudley scratched his head, an action that didn’t make him appear filled with intelligence, but in the next moment, he snapped his fingers joyfully. “By golly, I got it.”
Rupert’s stomach churned.
“I told my servant that I thought you’d taken the princess. And everyone saw your odd behavior at the wedding.” He grinned. “I’m going to tell everyone I saw you murder the princess, since you were filled with despair at your lowly position.”
Rupert swallowed hard.
“Then, I’ll say I murdered you, and sadly wasn’t able to save the princess’s life.” Dudley grinned. “It will all be terribly tragic.”
“You’ll never get away with it,” the princess said.
Dudley’s smile broadened, displaying his gums. “I’m a duke, my dear. And soon, I’ll be a terribly distraught one.”
“You have no reason to murder either of us,” the princess said.
Dudley sighed. “Even you don’t believe that.”
The princess’s cheeks flushed. Rupert was certain she wanted to tell him more, but was apprehensive of enraging him further.
“The only question is how to do it.” Dudley scrunched his lips together.
“I’m certain you’ll figure that out,” Rupert grumbled.
The Truth About Princesses and Dukes (The Duke Hunters Club) Page 7
