Duke of fire

by Monroe, Jennifer

  The door to Jane’s room opened and one of the maids bobbed him a curtsy. “Mrs. Fredericks says ye can go in,” she said before bobbing another curtsy.

  He did not wait for the girl to move aside and almost trampled her in his rush to be with Jane.

  “She’ll need time to recover, Your Grace, but she will live,” Mrs. Fredericks said. Then she looked down at Jane as a mother would a child. “She just needs rest.” Then she called the maid to her and the two were soon gone, leaving Michael alone with the woman he loved.

  Jane coughed, her hand covering her mouth, and Michael rushed to pour her a glass of water. He brought the glass to her lips and she took a sip before pushing it away.

  “Jane,” Michael said in a quiet voice as he pulled a chair up next to the bed and took her hand in his, “can you tell me what happened?”

  Tears leaked from the corner of her eyes, and at first Michael thought she would not speak. However, her eyes fluttered open, red and swollen. “It was…” Another fit of coughing had her doubled over for several moments. When she was done, he offered another glass of water.

  She shook her head. “No more,” she sputtered. Then she lay back against the pillows and looked up at him sadly. “It was…Lord Blackstone. Your brother.”

  The air around him seemed to vanish and he found himself fighting for air in much the same way as he had in the burning cottage. The room spun around him for a moment, but when he saw the anguish in Jane’s eyes, he caught hold of his senses. She had suffered enough; he could not have her endure more while he attended to his grief. For grief was what he suffered. His brother was as good as dead.

  “He will pay for what he has done,” he vowed in a quiet tone he knew held an edge sharper than a knife.

  Jane grasped his arm and her eyes bore into him. “That is not all,” she rasped. The racking cough once again had her doubled over, and it took several moments to subside. She accepted the water he offered her but only enough to wet her throat before pushing the glass away. She did not settle back into the pillow this time but squeezed his arm weakly to keep herself in a half-sitting position. “Michael, Robert killed Elizabeth. It was he who set the fire that left her dead and almost killed Samuel.”

  If the world lurched around him before, this time it spiraled out of control. The man in whom he had put all trust had been the one who had made him suffer the worst tragedy any man could endure. Michael would see that man pay for what he had done. Not only to Jane, but to Elizabeth with her life. And Samuel with the loss of a mother he would never know.

  “Rest, my love,” he said, every muscle in his body tensed to maintain an outward appearance of calm. “I will return later to see how you are feeling, but for now, you only need to rest. I will take care of all the rest.”

  Jane nodded and closed her eyes, the even breath of sleep on her in seconds. Michael laid a hand on her brow and then leaned over to kiss her cheek. “I will see everyone I love avenged.” The promise came as a whisper.

  ***

  Michael stormed down the hall and stalked to the study to pace before the fireplace. A rage greater than the fire in the hearth coursed through his veins as he grasped the decanter of brandy. Then he turned and threw it against the far wall and watched as the amber liquid streamed down the dark wood.

  The door opened and Jenkins entered. Before the man could speak, Robert burst in behind him, his features indignant. “What is the meaning of having me pulled from my bed in the middle of the night? What is so urgent…?”

  Robert’s jaw cracked as Michael’s fist smashed into it, and the man flew back into a chair, which overturned from the blow. The man barely had time to pull himself up and shout, “What is going on?” before Michael had him by the collar and was pulling him to a standing position.

  “You killed Elizabeth,” Michael seethed as he pulled his brother to him so their noses almost touched. “You tried to kill Jane.” His voice was as tight as the fist at his side. “Why?”

  “I have no idea…”

  Michael’s fist crashed into his brother’s face again, this time leaving the man’s nose askew. “Why?” he demanded again, a spring ready to uncoil.

  Robert glared at Michael, ignoring the blood that gushed from his nostrils. “That woman was not worthy of the title of Duchess.” He spat more than what Michael suspected was blood. “My Catherine is more deserving of that title than that stupid woman ever could have wished to be.” His face pinched in disgust. “You always had a soft spot for people beneath you.”

  Michael narrowed his eyes at the man he had once thought of as his brother. “I have every right to choose whom I marry,” he said.

  Robert snorted, or at least attempted to through his broken nose. “I should be Duke, not you!” he sneered. “You might be the elder, but you have done nothing to earn the title. I, on the other hand, have done everything. If it were not for me, you would have watched as the estate, all the lands, even the wealth dwindled away. All because of a woman! You had eyes only for Elizabeth and I saw the devastation you would have left behind, the neglect. You have never been worthy of Father’s title, and you never will be.” Then his face twisted into something so ugly, Michael almost took a step back. “And that brat of yours?” he hissed. “He is as weak as you.”

  Michael’s fist slammed into the man’s face again and again, and he did not stop until a voice behind him halted his hand.

  “Father?” Michael turned his head and looked at his son, whose face was contorted in horror. “Father, please, do not become him,” Samuel said as tears ran down his cheeks. “If you do, the darkness that left this house will return.”

  The boy’s words, a proclamation that held meaning even men struggled to comprehend, struck Michael with such force, he wondered if his son had doubled up his fist and struck him. He looked down at the battered face of his brother and released his shirt, pushing the man to the floor. “Bah!” he shouted. Then he turned to Samuel and knelt before him. “You are wise beyond your years,” he said and then pulled the boy into his arms. “I am so proud of you.”

  When the embrace broke, Michael rose. Jenkins stood at the door, a silver tray gripped in his hand, still raised as if he meant to strike someone with it. “Jenkins,” Michael whispered as he grasped the man’s wrist.

  The butler seemed to come around, as if his mind had been far away. He cleared his throat, his face turning red from embarrassment. “Your Grace,” he said with a deep bow. “Forgive me. I heard what…that man…did to the Duchess and I am afraid I lost my head.”

  Michael chuckled. “As you can see, I lost my head, as well.” Then he pursed his lips. “Send a rider for the magistrate. I want someone here to collect him,” he pointed to Robert who lay unmoving on the floor, “and I want another man to go collect Catherine. I care not if they must tie her hand and foot, I want her treated like any other criminal who has conspired to murder.”

  “As you wish,” Jenkins said stoically, although a corner of his mouth rose for a fraction of a second.

  “One more thing. Where is Dalton?”

  Now Jenkins did chuckle. “He is tied up in the kitchen being watched over by Mrs. Curtis, Your Grace. She caught him attempting to slip out after you left.” A moan came from the man on the floor. “And what will you do with him?”

  “Let him be,” Michael replied. “If he decides to run, allow him to do so, for everyone will know of his deeds. He has no place to hide.” He walked up to his son, picked him up, and placed a kiss on his cheek. Then he pulled him in and held him tight. “Things will change from now on, I promise,” he whispered.

  “Good,” Samuel whispered back.

  Setting Samuel back on the floor, Michael took the boy’s hand in his and walked out into the foyer.

  “Where are we going, Father?” the boy asked.

  “To see Jane,” replied Michael.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Fire and smoke filled Jane’s dreams, as flames jumped out at her and morphed into images of
Lord Blackstone towering over her as he cackled with madness. She looked down at the cords that bound her hands and feet and quailed as they burned away, expecting her skin to be a charred mass by the end.

  Jane’s eyes flew open and she gasped before realizing she was in her bed and the only flames that burned were in the fireplace. Her heart leapt with joy when she looked down to see Michael’s large hand holding hers.

  “Michael,” she said and was surprised how rough her voice was.

  He sat up in the chair where he had clearly fallen asleep. Dark circles rimmed his eyes and his face looked haggard, but otherwise he looked well. “Jane,” he said with a smile.

  Tears stung her eyes. “I love you,” she rasped.

  “And I love you,” he returned. “I am sorry I doubted you, for you believed in me when no one else did.”

  She raised her hand and touched the scars on his face. Light shone in his eyes, yet changes had come about in this man. “All is forgiven,” she said. “As long as you love and trust me, that is all that matters.”

  He smiled down at her and then leaned in and kissed her. Her heart and body longed for him, and she ran her hand through his hair, pulling him into her. He was the man she loved, and he had a great affection for her. Nothing would keep them apart ever again. She knew it in her heart.

  When the kiss broke, she looked down and laughed when she saw Samuel curled up at the end of the bed.

  “He refused to leave your side,” Michael explained. “It was the first time the boy has ever refused to heed me, although I must admit I did not expect him to do otherwise in this case.”

  Jane wiped at her eyes and looked at Michael. “Your brother…”

  “Will be brought before the magistrate, as will Catherine. Dalton was escorted out not even an hour ago.”

  “I am sorry for what he did,” she said. “I only wish I would have known sooner.”

  He shook his head and sighed. “My own guilt blinded me to the truth, so I find it highly doubtful events would have unfolded any differently had you known beforehand.” He kissed her hand. “It was my fault and that of no one else. However, those dark days are now gone, and our future is bright ahead of us.”

  “It is,” she said with a smile.

  Michael released her hand and stood. “I will take Samuel to his bed now. You must have time to rest. I will return later.”

  Jane smiled as he leaned in and kissed her brow. When he was gone, she lay back into the pillows and found her mind wandering. For a moment, fear gripped her as images of the fire flickered in her mind, but she stared them down until they melted away into nothing. In that nothingness, a light began to grow, a flame much different from that which had tried to take her life. This light brought her joy and it pulsed with love. And that light was called Michael.

  Epilogue

  Two weeks passed, and Jane had never been happier. Somehow, Robert and Catherine had managed to escape the magistrates—Michael suspected Robert had paid them off but no proof of this existed—but they had been caught near London as they tried to make their way to Scotland. Their trial would be soon, and Jane suspected that, despite their station, their punishment would be great.

  Walking along the cobblestone path in the garden, Jane laughed as Samuel leapt about, calling out for the rabbits. The boy was persistent in his hopes of finding more, and she could not blame him. She had once dreamed of finding a chest full of gold coins, a notion she found silly once she had grown to adulthood. Now, however, she realized she had found her treasure, and he came in the form of a man named Michael. He was her light and her treasure, and she could not imagine a life without him.

  That man leaned against the gate that led to the open field behind the garden, smiling at her as he watched her approach. His hair, which he continued to keep long, flowed behind him in the cool breeze, and her heart soared. Yes, she loved this man, but even that word lacked the strength of her feelings for him, for he accentuated that which was best in her and had saved her life in more ways than one. Perhaps no word stronger than love existed; if one did, she did not know it. However, she did not fret over it, for she felt that emotion inside her.

  “You wished to see me?” Jane asked.

  He took her hands in his and looked down at her. “I did, for there is something I wished to share with you.”

  Jane’s stomach leadened at the seriousness of his tone. Was not all right with the world yet? Did some threat loom over them of which she was unaware?

  However, his smile removed all worry, and her stomach righted itself. “I once asked if you would reside in the cottage on my land so I could properly court you,” he said. “However, I have come to realize that courting is not something I wish to do.”

  This time her stomach dropped to her feet. “You do not?” she whispered. How could she have missed a change in his feelings toward her? Had all that had happened to him make him realize that no one could replace Elizabeth, especially a governess?

  “No. Only a foolish man would waste his time courting a woman he already loved. A wise man would simply ask the lady if she would marry him.”

  A wave of affection washed over her, and she had to wipe a tear from her eye. “I see,” she replied. “So, are you a foolish or a wise man?”

  “Although many may think me foolish,” he said, “I do not believe I am. So, Miss Jane Harcourt, I have no doubt that you are the woman I love, and I would be honored if you would become my wife.”

  Jane smiled up at him. “It would be an honor,” she replied.

  The next thing she knew, she was in his arms, his lips pressed to hers, and that kiss became stronger and hungrier. Everything in the world seemed to disappear around her, except the man who held her.

  Then another pair of arms wrapped around her middle, and she glanced down to see Samuel smiling up at them. She and Michael laughed as they collected the boy in their arms and the trio embraced. Then, with Samuel between them, they gazed out at the sky that displayed a mixture of the pinks, oranges, and reds of one of the most beautiful sunsets Jane had ever experienced in her life.

  She must have voiced this sentiment, for Michael turned to her and said, “This might be the most beautiful of sunsets, but you are the most beautiful of women.”

  Her face had to have reflected the reds in the sky, but her heart soared with the clouds. She was a woman who believed in a man, who in turn, believed in her. A relationship she had been advised would never thrive. Yet, as Anne had counseled, the heart never lies, and Jane’s heart told her that she and Michael, along with Samuel, had many long years ahead of them.

  About the Author

  Much like most Regency authors, Jennifer Monroe fell in love with historical novels of dashing dukes and women wishing to be swept off their feet. She believes that no matter how well a romance story is written, love must be the driving force behind the characters.

  Born in France to parents who worked for the United Nations, she found herself traveling the world, until she settled down in New York whilst attending University. As she completed her degree in literature studies, she met and married her loving husband and they soon had two wonderful daughters. She chose to stay home and raise her children, and it was not long before she began to wonder about the novels she loved as a young adult and began to reread some of her favorites. This led her to reading newer authors and eventually to try her hand at writing the stories that bounced around in her head for many years.

  If you enjoyed this story, also try The Earl’s Mission or feel free to pursue any of the other titles available by Jennifer Monroe.

  If you love Regency that has heart, as well as characters who are fun and distinct, then she invites you to escape with her into her world. If you would like to drop her a line or join her exclusive newsletter, just enter the link below into your browser.

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