I Dared the Duke

by Anna Bennett

  He couldn’t reply. Every ounce of strength he possessed was devoted to lifting himself. His arms quivered from the effort, but his elbows were bent and his head was almost level with his hands.

  “Please,” she urged.

  Sweat trickled down the side of his face. The muscles in his forearms screamed in pain. His right hand was slipping. In two seconds, he’d lose his grip entirely. The sheet brushed against his shoulder. He had to trust Beth—with both their lives.

  The sheet dangled to his right, and he lunged for it. He clutched it with one hand, then the other, relieved to discover it was secure. He closed his eyes and hung there for one second, starting to believe he might not die. On that night, at least.

  Gasping for breath, he walked himself up the side of his house and spilled through the doorway into his bedchamber, somehow managing to pull the drapery rod out of the wall and on top of him.

  His chest heaved as he wrestled to free himself from the curtains. His knee hurt like hell. “How was that for an entrance?” he gasped.

  She knelt beside him, still frantic. “Dear Jesus. Alex, are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, siren. You saved my godforsaken life. But if the noise of the balcony breaking didn’t wake the whole house, the sound of the curtain rod crashing surely did. You need to go quickly,” he urged, “before anyone sees you here.”

  Her expression one part relieved and one part dumbfounded, she made no move to go. “Why didn’t you grab the sheet sooner?” she asked.

  “I was afraid I’d pull you down and we’d both break our necks.”

  “You should have had faith in me,” she said, her eyes wounded.

  “I did. I do. I didn’t want to risk hurting you. Look, when the sun comes up, I can thank you properly. And we can discuss all the things I did wrong tonight. But now, you need to leave.”

  She stood with a sigh, looking weary and, somehow, more beautiful than ever.

  “If you see anyone in the corridor,” he said, “pretend you were on your way here to investigate the noise.”

  Nodding, she looked at his bedroom, which appeared to have been ransacked. “When I came to ask you about wallpaper samples, I never imagined the night would end like this.”

  “It wasn’t all bad,” he said casually—while desperately hoping she agreed.

  “No, it wasn’t.” Hesitating, she gave him a weak smile. “Good night, Alex.”

  * * *

  The next morning, Alex and Darby stood in the garden, examining the rubble beneath Alex’s bedchamber.

  Eyeing the impressive heap of stone and metal, Darby let out a long, low whistle. “You’d never noticed a crack in the balcony floor before? No wear and tear?”

  “No. It seemed solid. As structurally sound as the rest of the house.”

  Darby propped his hands on his hips, perplexed, then thought out loud. “Maybe someone snuck into the garden and weakened the supports underneath. They could have sawed partially through the braces, so that the balcony would give way when you walked onto it.”

  “That’s my theory,” Alex agreed. “But there’s not enough of the balcony left to prove it. Even if I could find the braces in this pile, there’s no way to discern whether they were intentionally compromised or merely damaged during the collapse.”

  “But given the totality of circumstances…” Darby mused.

  “It seems safe to conclude this was another attempt to kill me—and it almost succeeded.”

  “What in the hell were you doing out on the balcony in the middle of the night?” Before the question was even out of Darby’s mouth, a knowing gleam lit his eyes. “Entertaining a beautiful woman, perhaps?”

  “No,” Alex said—maybe a bit too sharply.

  “Easy, old chap. Your secret’s safe with me.”

  “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” But Alex’s heart pounded. Darby couldn’t know about Beth. No one could.

  “It all makes sense now. Even the sturdiest of balconies is no match for London’s most legendary lover.”

  For the love of—This was how rumors started. “Is something wrong with your hearing? No one was with me.”

  Darby rocked from his toes to heels and back again, amused. “If you say so.” More soberly, he asked, “What next?”

  “I’m going to track down Newton and Haversham to find out what they know about this latest accident.”

  “Assuming one of them was behind it, do you honestly think they’d admit it?” Darby looked skeptical.

  “No, but at the very least I can figure out if they had the time and opportunity to tamper with the braces.”

  Nodding, Darby said, “A sound plan. Shall we split up? I’ll take one suspect, you take the other.”

  Only a true friend would offer to insert himself in a mess like this, and Alex couldn’t ask for a better ally than Darby—even if he had been on the verge of punching him twice in the past two days. “Good idea. You talk to Newton. You’re likely to get more out of him than I—especially if he’s still fuming over our boxing match. I heard his jaw’s so sore he can barely chew.”

  Darby looked at Alex’s leg. “And your knee’s so sore you can barely walk.”

  “My knee is fine.” Er, not exactly true, but it was feeling better.

  “Well, you look like hell.”

  “Thanks,” Alex said dryly. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.” Haunted by what ifs, he hadn’t slept a wink. What if Beth had fallen off the balcony? What if she’d been discovered in his room in the middle of the night? The possibilities had played out over and over in his head. “I’ll talk to Haversham. He’s been avoiding me of late.”

  “I’d avoid you too, if I owed you five thousand pounds,” Darby said. “Incidentally, the best place to look for him is the gaming tables. Shall we meet at the club later tonight to compare notes?”

  Alex hesitated. “I don’t want to be away from the house any longer than necessary. My adversary—whoever he is—grows bolder by the day. I’m afraid my grandmother or another innocent party will be caught in the crossfire.” Just like Beth almost had been last night. “Why don’t you join us for dinner here?”

  Darby nodded affably. “As long as you taste the food first.”

  Chapter TWENTY-ONE

  “The transformation shall be spectacular!” the dowager declared. She referred to Alex’s study, of course. Collapsed balcony notwithstanding, she’d talked of little else all day, leaving Beth’s head swirling with scores of combinations of carpets, furniture, and ornamental pieces.

  From his end of the dinner table, Alex shot Beth a pointed look that said the transformation had better not be too spectacular. She turned to the duchess. “While the end result will most definitely be different, I feel certain your choices will suit the duke perfectly.”

  He grunted, only slightly mollified. The dark circles beneath his eyes suggested he’d had even less sleep than Beth, and her brain was so fuzzy that she was having trouble forming coherent sentences. If she didn’t catch up on her sleep, she’d soon sound like Uncle Alistair.

  Lord Darberville had joined them for dinner, much to the duchess’s delight. She even solicited the marquess’s opinion on velvet drapes during the dessert course. He’d good-naturedly confirmed that solid midnight blue was an impeccable choice, sure to complement the duke’s eyes. The marquess’s tongue-in-cheek comment was lost on the dowager but elicited a surly growl from Alex.

  Beth had barely swallowed her last bite of pastry when he announced, “Darby and I have a few matters to discuss but will join you ladies in the drawing room shortly.”

  “Excellent, my dear,” the dowager said. “I was just thinking that I’d like to see how the chair fabric will look next to the walls. For the life of me, I can’t figure out what I did with those wallpaper samples. They must be buried in the mess atop my escritoire.”

  Oh dear. Alex coughed, and Beth made a mental note to locate the samples after the duchess went to bed—provided they weren’t
at the bottom of the balcony rubble in the garden. “I’m sure they’ll turn up somewhere,” she said, offering her elbow to the dowager and escorting her from the dining room.

  Beth wished she could stay and hear the men’s conversation. If she hadn’t known the duchess would frown upon it, she’d have been tempted to press her ear to the door. She suspected the discussion had something to do with the balcony, and she prayed that no one but Alex knew she’d been there last night when the ground had literally crumbled beneath their feet.

  An hour later, the men still hadn’t joined them, and the dowager began to doze off while sitting at her escritoire, gazing at sketches. Yawning, she rubbed her eyes beneath her spectacles, then straightened her desktop. “My eyes are crossed from looking at these books all day. I’m for bed.”

  “Let me see you to your room,” Beth offered.

  “No, you stay and make my apologies to Alexander and Lord Darberville,” the duchess replied wearily. “Then see that you retire early as well—you look as exhausted as I. I’m sure it’s the result of our decorating efforts, and I’m most grateful for your help.”

  Beth blushed. If the duchess knew the extent to which Beth had helped, she’d be shocked and dismayed. “We’ll resume tomorrow, immediately after breakfast, if you wish.”

  “Indeed. No rest for the wicked, you know.” The dowager winked and squeezed Beth’s hand before gliding from the room.

  Beth walked around the perimeter of the drawing room, lingering at the spot nearest the dining room and straining to hear a snippet of the men’s conversation, but the walls proved vexingly thick.

  She was contemplating eavesdropping in earnest when Alex suddenly strode into the room, making her heart beat faster. “Where is Lord Darberville?” she asked.

  “He had to leave. We didn’t intend to talk for so long. Where is my grandmother?”

  “In her room. She could barely keep her eyes open.”

  “So we are alone.” His eyes crinkled and his mouth curved into a knee-melting smile.

  “Relatively speaking,” she whispered. “There are still some servants about.”

  Taking her hand and pulling her toward the settee, he said. “I wasn’t planning on ravishing you. But if you’d like me to…”

  She wasn’t about to let him avoid a real conversation. “Alex, is something going on that I should know about?” She sat beside him—close, but not distractingly so.

  “What do you mean?” he said, wincing as he stretched out his injured leg.

  “I sensed some tension between you and Lord Darberville at dinner. Does it have anything to do with the balcony? Does he know I was there when it happened?”

  “No,” he replied quickly. “No one knows, and I intend to keep it that way.”

  Relieved, she said, “I keep thinking how fortunate we were. You could have died. I could have been discovered. Instead, the only casualty was your balcony.”

  “Fortunate, indeed,” he said drolly. Squeezing her hand, he gazed into her eyes. “I had hoped the night would end differently.”

  Beth had too. But perhaps it was for the best. If she wasn’t the innocent she once was, at least she hadn’t been thoroughly compromised. “I know.”

  “I’m glad we have the opportunity to talk.”

  There was a catch in his voice that made her sit up straight. “Talk about what?” she asked warily.

  “The deal we made.”

  Good heavens. “Is this about the wallpaper?” she asked. “Because if you’ve changed your mind about the blue-gray scrollwork, I can inform your grandmother.”

  Regret washed over his face. “It’s not about my study. Honestly, at this point she can paint it pink for all I care. Circumstances have changed. I need you and my grandmother to move out—as soon as possible.”

  His words were a slap in the face. “But … you’ve only delivered one wish. True, you’ve started the second, but it’s far from fulfilled, and … and … you promised.” Blast. She was rambling on about their deal when she really didn’t give a fig about it, apart from what it meant to the duchess.

  Beth thought that perhaps she’d seen a change in him. That he’d softened in his stance regarding his grandmother. That he’d enjoyed spending more time with her of late. And that, in the process, he might have let down some of his walls—and developed feelings for Beth.

  How foolish she’d been. While she’d been secretly dreaming of reforming the world’s greatest rake, he’d been counting the days till she and his grandmother were gone. And now, apparently tired of waiting, he wanted to speed up their departure.

  “I know we had a bargain,” he said, “and I wish I could honor it. But for reasons I can’t explain, I must insist that you and my grandmother leave.”

  She twisted her hand free of his and scooted back. “You can’t explain your reasons?”

  Stone-faced, he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “No.”

  “Well, allow me to try. You thought you would play a game with me—because you imagined a wallflower would be an easy conquest.”

  His jaw dropped. “Beth—it’s nothing like that.”

  “Don’t deny it,” she said, willing herself not to cry. “You relished the challenge of seducing an innocent. But things didn’t go exactly as planned, and now you’ve reversed course, deciding that an argumentative, awkward virgin isn’t worth your effort.”

  “That’s not true.” Leaning forward, he swallowed. “I care for you. And that’s precisely why I need you to leave.”

  “You’re spouting nonsense.” Too hurt and proud to share the settee with him, she stood and paced the carpet. “Why even bother with lies? Have some integrity and admit that you’ve grown tired of me. It certainly didn’t take long,” she said dryly. “What has it been—a week?”

  “Stop.” He stood, squarely blocking her path. “Don’t do this,” he begged. As if it had been her choice to end their budding relationship.

  She jabbed a finger at his chest. “Does my honesty offend you? What would you have me say?”

  Placing a warm, steadying hand on her hip, he said, “Tell me I’m an idiot. Or a scoundrel or degenerate. But don’t call me a liar—not when I say that I care for you.”

  Her eyes burned and her throat swelled, blast him. “You have a very odd way of showing it.”

  * * *

  Jesus, he’d botched this horribly. Raking a hand through his hair, Alex took a turn pacing the length of the room.

  He’d considered telling Beth about the attempts on his life, but when he’d discussed the idea with Darby after dinner, his friend had counseled against it, reasoning that the less she knew, the safer she’d be. Alex was inclined to agree—except that his relationship with Beth complicated everything. And Darby knew nothing of what had transpired between them.

  Seeing her now, hurting—and worse, doubting his feelings for her—made him think twice.

  Facing her, he took a deep breath. “When the balcony fell off the side of the house last night, you could have died.”

  “I suppose we both could have,” she said. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “The balcony collapse wasn’t an accident.” Damn it, he’d opened Pandora’s Box. There would be no going back now.

  She eyed him warily. “Someone knew we were together on your balcony?”

  “Not necessarily. I suspect someone weakened the supporting beams days before, betting that I would walk out of my bedroom one night for a breath of air—and that it would be my last.”

  Beth pressed her fingertips to a temple. “Why would anyone do that?”

  “An excellent question. I’m working on finding the answer.”

  “Are you certain? About the balcony, that is? Buildings age … accidents happen.”

  “It’s not the first accident. I was poisoned recently. And not long after, my coach rolled over.”

  She seemed to digest this for a moment. “Your knee injury—did it truly happen during a boxing match?”

  H
e nodded. “No one to blame but myself for that one.”

  Sinking onto the settee as though her bones had turned to jelly, she gazed up at him. “Someone tried to poison you,” she repeated.

  “Yes. And a few days later, a mysterious broken axle caused a serious coach accident. And then the balcony.”

  She blinked. “Someone really is trying to kill you?”

  “I’m afraid so. Now do you see why I don’t want you and my grandmother staying here one more day than is necessary?” He needed her to understand he wasn’t the cold, heartless bastard he appeared to be.

  Holding his breath, he waited for her answer—and a shot at redemption in her eyes.

  Her chin trembled. “Yes.”

  He sat beside her and took her hand in his. “I don’t want you to leave, but I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you. The mere possibility keeps me awake at night.”

  “I believe you, Alex.”

  A huge weight lifted off his chest, and he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers. “Thank you.”

  She sniffled, her blue eyes shining with emotion. “But there’s no reason to believe I’m in danger. You’re the target, unfortunately, and you should have told me before now. I can help you.”

  Good God. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of. He sat up and shook his head firmly. “I don’t need your help, and I don’t want you involved.”

  “Like it or not, I already am. You said yourself that there’s something between us.” She looked down at their entwined hands. “Don’t push me away. I harbor no false illusions about the future. I know our respective roles. I’m the prickly wallflower destined for spinsterhood; you’re the brooding duke destined for a life of philandering. But right now, you need me, and I … well, I need to be needed.”

  Chapter TWENTY-TWO

  Lord help her, Beth believed him. Alex wasn’t trying to rid himself of his grandmother and her meddling companion, after all. He was trying to protect them.

  When, in truth, he was the one who required protection.