by Fanny Walsh
“I recently learned about a rather unusual knife,” Duncan began. “One with a good strong metal blade and an expensive handle, crafted from… ivory, I believe.”
The color that had returned to Theodore’s face vanished again.
“O-Oh?” Theodore asked again, his voice weak and trembling. “Where did you hear about such a grand knife?”
“From a trusted friend,” Duncan said, examining his fingernails, and trying to ignore the blood thrumming in his ears.
“What on earth would broach such a conversation among mere friends?” Theodore asked. He reached for his drink again, his hand shaking violently.
“An unusual case, brought to my attention by a patient of mine,” Duncan said.
“I am sure that I know nothing of such an extraordinary blade,” Theodore said. “Nor would I know anyone who would.”
“I did not ask if you knew anyone who would know something,” Duncan said, stifling his anger.
“I-I just assumed that your next question might be if I did,” Theodore countered.
Duncan took a deep, slow breath.
“You assume too much, cousin,” Duncan said. “However, if you did know anything about someone with such a weapon, and what he might have done with it, I would be willing to forget that you and I had this conversation.”
Theodore grew perfectly still and silent. He regarded Duncan with suspicious, nervous eyes for several moments.
“What makes you so sure that I would know anything about any such thing?” Theodore said at last.
“Nothing, really,” Duncan said, sensing that he was losing his cousin’s trust quickly.
“I just know that you have attended many a card game, and that you might have seen something like this kind of knife placed as a wager by someone who had no money.”
Duncan’s words were quite a stretch, he knew. However, the words seemed to have struck a nerve within his cousin. For a moment, he believed his cousin might faint.
“I do not know what you are talking about,” Theodore growled. Duncan was surprised by the change in his cousin’s tone, which raised many more questions.
“Theodore, if you are in more trouble than just financially, you must let me know before it is too late—”
“I assure you that I do not know what you mean,” Theodore said, his face at last beginning to flush red.
Duncan knew that his cousin was lying, but he also knew that there was nothing he could say to Theodore to get him to open up about whatever it was that he was hiding.
“Theodore,” Duncan said softly, trying to appeal to the life-long relationship he had had with his cousin. Theodore, however, was having none of it.
“I said I know nothing,” Theodore roared.
He finished off the last of his drink and slammed the empty glass onto the table. Then, without another word, he rose from the table, so fiercely that he knocked his chair to the floor and stormed off before Duncan could say anything more.
Duncan watched as his cousin stomped out of the teahouse. He would have followed him if it had not been for knowing that Mary was waiting for him to return.
As he was finishing the remainder of his own drink, Duncan began smelling the distinct scent of smoke. As he looked around in search of the source, he heard a loud scream.
He jumped from his seat as he saw smoke billowing from the part of the teahouse where Mary had been sitting. Duncan rushed toward the direction of the table at which he had left her but realized that he could not see her. Panic seized him. He turned to his cousin, his eyes wild.
“What do we do?” Theodore asked, mirroring his cousin’s fear.
“Quick. Start grabbing abandoned water pitchers and glasses and start splashing,” Duncan said.
The owner of the teahouse and Kent were also hard at work to put out the flames. Between the other two men, Duncan, and Theodore, the flames were doused within half an hour. Then, Duncan rushed, without a word to his cousin, to try to find Mary.
“Find and tend to Miss Beaumont,” Duncan told the investigator as he departed.
He searched all over the lower floor of the teahouse, calling her name. When he found no evidence of her, he rushed up the stairs to the second floor.
He dashed from room to room, adrenaline coursing through him. Footsteps thundered up the stairs behind Duncan, but he did not take a moment to see who it was.
At last, he found Mary standing on a windowsill of a second-floor balcony. His heart leaped into his throat. Seeing Mary preparing to jump from the balcony frightened him into paralysis.
He knew that he must save her, but he was frozen to the spot. His mind spun with the fear the sight instilled in him, the thought of losing her, and the emptiness that her absence in his life would leave behind, and he could not will himself to move.
That is, until he saw Mary shift her weight and lean further off of the balcony. Then his adrenaline took over, and his hypnosis broke.
“Mary,” he called and started to rush to her. She was poised in the window as if to jump, but her eyes were filled with tears and fear seemed to freeze her. Duncan thought quickly and decided to approach more slowly, lest his sudden arrival and movements startle her into jumping.
“Mary, it is alright,” Duncan said calmly.
“Duncan… you are…” Mary said hoarsely.
“I am right here, darling,” Duncan said, not caring about the impropriety of his words. He needed her attention on him, and off of what she was planning to do.
“I—I…” Mary said.
“You do not need to say anything, Mary,” Duncan said. “You just need to let me help you down from there.
“Is… Is my uncle alright?” Mary asked, her eyes wide with fright.
“He is fine, I promise,” Duncan said, remembering seeing him help extinguish the flames. “Please, Mary, come down from there with me.”
Mary seemed to be looking through him just then.
“Fire… the fire… Must get away,” she whispered.
He knew then that she was reliving the tragedy that took away her family, and that he must do something to break her from her trance.
“Mary, darling, listen to me,” Duncan said. “Please, do not do this. I cannot bear to lose you. You must let me help you.”
His eyes began to fill with tears. Again, he knew that his words were not appropriate, but the idea of losing Mary was overwhelming to him, and he was willing to do anything if it meant he could get through to her.
It seemed that he did. Mary blinked just then and, although still frightened, her eyes began to clear, and she seemed to see Duncan once more.
“Yes,” she said. “Please, help me.”
Swallowing a lump in his throat, Duncan nodded, slowly reaching his arms toward her.
“Do not move, darling,” he croaked. “I will come to you.”
As soon as he reached her, he seized her around the waist and pulled her gently from the window. Before he could ease her onto the floor, she collapsed, falling into his arms, her face buried in his chest.
She began to sob and wail, and her whole body trembled violently. She clung tightly to him and continued to cry, and his heart broke.
He was grateful that she was alive, but it sounded as if the pain inside of her was far worse than any she had ever experienced physically, and that was a pain for which he could not examine or remove for her.
Just then, Duncan heard footsteps again. He did not bother to lift his head to see who had arrived behind them. He was focused solely on Mary.
“Please, leave us be. She needs room to breathe and calm herself,” he said, his own voice thick with emotion.
The footsteps moved one step closer, then stopped. Satisfied, Duncan held Mary in his arms.
“It is alright now. You are safe. I have you,” he said.
Chapter 19
There were no words for the gratitude she felt for the security of Duncan’s arms wrapped tightly around her.
She tried to take deep breaths and
tell him so, but her sobs kept coming harder and faster. Her fear of the events that had unfolded that day had been intense enough. But as she sat crying in Duncan’s arms, all the weight of her responsibilities as Countess and the battles she had fought against the men who believed she did not belong in her position came crashing down on her.
As did the fear and panic she had experienced when she was pushed from the balcony, and the day she narrowly avoided being crushed by the carriage. Her tears turned into full hysteria.
She could hear him speaking to someone, but his words sounded distant, as if muffled by water. She tried to focus on his voice and bring herself out of her current state, but the more she tried, the more difficult it became.
She knew she would have to apologize to Duncan later for her behavior, but she had not felt as safe as she did then in his arms in a very long time.
Her own uncle had shown no more interest in her wellbeing or her concerns than he would to a business document that needed a signature, and only then did she realize just how deeply that had affected her.
She allowed herself to give into the overwhelming waves of emotions and cried until she had no tears left.
At last, Duncan’s voice began to become clearer. Her tears turned into hiccups, and she put all her remaining energy into listening to what he was saying.
“Mary, I am here now. You are safe. Nothing is going to happen to you. It is alright. I am here for you,” he said.
The affection and concern in his voice made her want to burst into tears again, but she let his words and grasp soothe her. Eventually, her hiccups became light gasps, and she was able to catch her breath.
Duncan did not release her immediately, however, and for that she was grateful. She did not yet know if she trusted herself to speak, and in truth, she was not ready to leave the safety of his arms. She now wondered if she would ever want to leave that safety again.
She remembered that she had heard Duncan speak to someone. She could not be sure whether he had been speaking only to her or if someone else was there with them. She sat up weakly and tried to look around, but the crying spell had blurred her vision.
She raised a hand to wipe her eyes and felt that she was still too weak to hold up her own weight. Before she could collapse again, however, Duncan’s hand braced her arm. With his other hand, he gently lifted her chin. She blinked, trying to bring his face into focus.
“Are you alright?” Duncan asked. His voice was soft and kind but strained with worry.
Mary opened her mouth to speak, but her voice came out as a dry groan. She resigned to simply nodding her head.
“Would you like me to get you some water?” Duncan asked. He started to stand, but Mary gripped his arms again. She was not ready for him to leave her just yet.
“It is alright. I will not go anywhere if you do not wish me to,” Duncan said, brushing damp strands of her hair from her face.
“Thank you,” Mary managed to croak. “I am so sorry for this terrible display.”
“Mary, you haven’t a thing for which you should apologize,” Duncan said softly. “Anyone as terrified as you must have been would have reacted no differently.”
Once again, she felt tears threatening at the warmth and understanding of Duncan’s words. She cleared her throat to maintain what little control of herself she had now regained.
“Terribly brazen of you to use Mary's given name, doctor,” Mary heard her uncle spit. She raised her head, realizing for the first time that he, too, was there in the room with them.
“Calling her Lady Linden would have hardly been of comfort to her,” Duncan said, not bothering to mask the stress and hostility in his voice.
“Perhaps it would have been best if it had been me there comforting her,” Mary’s uncle said.
“Would that had been the case,” Duncan said. “But you were not here until just a moment ago.”
“Uncle, please,” Mary said, her voice still shaky and meek. “Duncan is trying to help me. Do not quarrel with him.”
“Helping, indeed. Using your given name and touching you so. In public, no less.”
“That is only fitting for the man I have chosen to marry, Uncle,” Mary said. She did not feel the shock of her words until she had said them.
The room filled with surprised and tense silence. Although she had not known she was going to say such a thing, she did not for an instant regret it. At that moment, she felt certain that she wanted to marry Duncan.
“Mary, do you mean it?” Duncan asked, hopeful.
Mary looked at Duncan and smiled, a genuine, steady smile.
“Yes, Duncan. I do mean it,” she said.
“Mary, darling, I think that this recent… event has clouded your mind. Perhaps you should not make such a decision so hastily,” her uncle said, a tone of warning creeping into his words.
Mary unwillingly turned her attention from Duncan to her uncle. She looked at him coolly, suddenly feeling more like herself than she had in some time. She noticed then that Beatrice, Mr. Langdon, and two men she did not immediately recognize standing in the doorway. She felt embarrassment creep up her neck and spread to her cheeks. It was short-lived, however. Their presence in the room gave her an idea.
“Uncle, I should think that you would be grateful to Duncan. Had it not been for him, I would have jumped out of this window,” she said. “Surely, you would not have an objection to me publicly accepting a proposal from the man who saved my life just now.”
Mary’s uncle followed her gaze to the doorway, and he blanched. He remained silent for a long moment, and Mary watched with some amusement as his jaw worked furiously.
“Forgive me, doctor,” Kent said, returning his attention to Duncan and Mary. “I fear that my concern for my niece got the better of me, and I spoke far too harshly.”
Duncan gave Kent a smile that Mary noticed did not reach his eyes.
“As did I, Mr. Hillington,” Duncan said diplomatically.
Kent eyed Mary for a moment. Mary could see that he was considering his options. She also knew that her plan had worked flawlessly. There was no way her uncle could rebuke or refuse her wishes to marry Duncan, not with an audience. She was also aware that Duncan was looking at her again, and she felt herself blush.
“Mary, my dear, are you certain that this is what you want?” her uncle asked. She did not miss the hint of hope in his voice.
“Yes, uncle. I am quite certain,” she said, looking at Duncan, whose eyes were sparkling.
“And what say you, doctor?” Kent asked.
“Nothing would make me happier than for her to accept my proposal.”
Kent uttered a snort, which he tried to cover with a cough.
“Very well,” Mary’s uncle said with forced enthusiasm. “There is nothing left to it but for me to give my blessing.”
Overcome with joy, Mary placed her hand in Duncan’s.
“On one condition, that is,” Kent continued.
“What is that?” both Mary and Duncan said, in unison.
“You must prove that you have absolutely no ulterior motives for wishing to marry my niece,” Kent said. Mary did not like the glint in his eyes, but she tried to ignore it.
“That should be no problem at all,” Duncan said, looking at Mary instead of Kent. “One cannot find what does not exist, and ulterior motives certainly do not. Mary knows every reason why I wish to marry her.”
“Time will tell, doctor,” Kent said. “I will be keeping a very close eye on you.”
“I would expect nothing less,” Duncan said.
Chapter 20
Duncan’s mind was racing. He was numb, from the shock of the fire. His adrenaline raced, because of both his fear for Mary’s life and her pronouncement that she was accepting his marriage proposal.
He collected himself as best he could. He knew that everyone present during the fire would need to be examined for burns and other injuries.
“Take Mary and the others to your clinic, Lord Tornight,” K
ent said, echoing his thoughts. “I will stay here and speak with the manager of the building.”
Duncan blinked, surprised. Mary’s uncle had not only addressed him by his title, but he also seemed willing to work as a team to help get the situation resolved.
“Thank you, Mr. Hillington,” Duncan said with sincerity.
Kent nodded, then made his way to the manager.
“Mary, can you stand?” Duncan asked. He got to his feet and took her hands, prepared to catch her if she should stumble.
