The Duke of Darkness

by Cora Lee

  “No, but I’m hoping reinforcements will be arriving soon.”

  Lord Nicholas squirmed under her weight, and she pulled his ear as if he were a naughty little boy. “Be still, my lord. I do still have a pistol to your head.”

  Of all the words she’d said in her thirty years on earth, those were thirteen she’d never expected to utter. But they worked, and Lord Nicholas became still again.

  “Do you hear that?” she asked not a moment later.

  “What?” Rhuddlan countered in a thick voice.

  Olivia smiled. “Barking. I hear Artie barking.”

  His whole body relaxed and his lips curved into a weak smile. “Good.”

  Lord Nicholas stirred suddenly then, rising up beneath her and unceremoniously dumping her to the floor. Olivia landed on her right arm, trapping the pistol under her body until she could get her bearings again and roll over. By that point, though, her arm had been asked to do too much and it refused to lift the pistol and prepare to fire it.

  Fortunately, Olivia’s body was between Lord Nicholas and the long gun. He glanced at it for a moment, but must have thought better than to make an attempt at it. Instead, he shot an unreadable look at his brother and disappeared out the door.

  Chapter Nine

  A few hours later, they were all safely ensconced in a tiny inn with roaring fires and the innkeeper’s wife’s freshly baked bread and new cheese. The innkeeper had also obligingly fetched a physician, who was finishing up with his last patient: Artie, at Rhuddlan’s specific request. He’d been grazed by a bullet during the escape from Nick’s men and was bleeding a little. The physician had balked at treating a dog, but Rhuddlan had insisted. Artie had bitten one of the gun-toting men so hard he’d broken the man’s hand, helping to ensure the immediate safety of three people, and the later rescue of his mistress and Rhuddlan himself. Artie deserved the best care available in return for his bravery, and the physician’s conclusion—that the dog should recover quickly—set Olivia’s mind at ease.

  Olivia herself had been seen to and had received the same pronouncement, suffering cuts and scrapes and crushing fatigue, but nothing worse, setting Rhuddlan’s mind more at ease. His own situation was a little more serious, but he allowed himself to be put to bed per the physician’s orders after his leg would had been dressed and his nose set. He carefully ate some of the bread and cheese, then collapsed back onto his pillows.

  Before he could drift off to the sleep his body was clamoring for, a knock sounded on his door. “It’s Olivia.”

  “Enter,” he called, struggling to sit up. Not only was his body weary from his ordeal that afternoon, but the physician had given him a dose of laudanum to ease the pain of his injuries.

  “The messengers you asked for have arrived, Your Grace.”

  His heart fell slightly at the formality of her words, but he pushed past the feeling. There was business to attend to. “Good. The messages are there,” he said, pointing to three sealed letters on the only table in the room. There was one for Teverton, a warning in case Nick learned the viscount had harbored Rhuddlan and wanted retribution. The note to Lewis requested a full complement of guards and outriders be sent to escort Rhuddlan and his party home. And one for Sussex requesting his presence at Rhuddlan Hall at his earliest convenience. “There are coins for each of them—”

  “I see them,” she confirmed, reaching for the letters and their accompanying pouches. “I’ll take these down and get them on their way.”

  He shook his head reprovingly. “You should be resting, Miss Stone.” Would he ever learn to call her Miss Lockwood? Did it matter to her?

  She didn’t indicate one feeling or another about her name. She only smiled at his concern. “This is the last thing I’ll do, then I will lie down.”

  “Will you come back and lie down with me?” He asked, raising his eyebrows hopefully.

  “Artie will come and sit with you for a while,” she replied in a neutral tone. “Perhaps we’ll all get the rest we need.”

  She was gone for a few minutes, then returned as promised with her dog. Artie’s head was bandaged and he was moving more slowly than usual, but he otherwise looked all right. He went right to the fireplace and settled himself on the rug there, his eyes closing for a well-deserved nap.

  “He’s made himself right at home,” Olivia chuckled.

  “Good,” Rhuddlan replied. “You should, too.”

  She came to sit on the edge of his bed, smoothing a hand over his battered face. “You should stop worrying about me for a while and rest.”

  “Let me do one last thing for you, then I’ll rest,” he said, allowing his eyes to close briefly at her touch.

  “What’s that?”

  “I want to void our agreement regarding your cottage,” he said softly. Her blue eyes went wide, the fear in them easily discernible, and he reached for her hand. “I want to give you a small piece of property, instead. It’s several miles from the village, but it has a snug little house and a sturdy stable. You could have a large kitchen garden if you wanted one, or keep small livestock—”

  Her mouth had gone round at his pronouncement, but she chuckled at that. “For Artie to herd?”

  “A fellow has to feel useful,” he replied with a grin. Then he became serious. “You saved my life, Olivia. If not for you and Mrs. Davies and Miss Hatch, Nick would have killed me today.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes, and she swiped them away. “Don’t forget Artie and John Coachman,” she said.

  “Never,” he smiled. “I am going to offer John an early pension for his efforts, and Mrs. Davies and Miss Hatch will have their home for as long as they require it. But you,” he ran his thumb over the back of her hand, “you put yourself in harms way to save me.”

  The idea of proposing marriage again entered his mind, but he elected not to do it despite the longing for her that had been building since his kidnapping. All the logical reasons he’d presented her with were still valid—he needed an heir, they got along well together, and a woman alone in the world could always use protection. But he could merely be experiencing immense gratitude and mistaking it for affection, or a heightened sense of protectiveness for the woman who’d put herself in danger for him. In any case, she’d already turned him down once and had given no indication that she’d welcome a second offer.

  She squeezed his hand and brushed away another tear with her free hand. “I suppose that makes us even, then.”

  “Not quite,” he smiled. “Will you let me see you and Artie settled?”

  “But I cannot reward you for your bravery in saving me,” she protested.

  “The only reward I need is knowing you’re safe and well.” It sounded trite even as Rhuddlan said the words aloud, but it was the truth, and he didn’t know how better to express the sentiment.

  She didn’t reply for a long moment, but then nodded. “Then yes. And we’ll both thank you for it.”

  “It is truly my pleasure,” he murmured, bringing her hand to his lips for a kiss.

  She followed her hand down and pressed her lips to his in a gesture he hadn’t expected, but welcomed. He released her hand and slid his arms around her, smiling against her mouth when she reciprocated.

  “Does this mean I’m not ‘Your Grace’ any longer?” he asked, dropping a kiss on the corner of her mouth.

  “I wasn’t sure...” Her voice trailed off, then she started again. “I wasn’t sure what our relationship was anymore. After the things we’ve told each other, the things we’ve done...”

  “Wonder no longer,” he said softly, finally finding the strength to sit up. He slid a hand into her hair and kissed her deeply, his heart racing when she tightened her arms around him and kissed him back. He broke off much sooner than he would have liked in deference to his swollen nose, but trailed several kisses along her cheek.

  “I care very much for you, Olivia,” he murmured in her ear, sliding one hand over the fabric of her gown to cup her breast. “If my body was in bet
ter condition, I’d show you just how much.”

  She moaned softly and Rhuddlan was nearly ready to defy the physician’s orders, laudanum or no. He was hard and ready, but he had no strength or stamina left and sighed instead, defeated.

  “Another time,” she whispered, grinning.

  “Don’t tease me, sweetheart,” he laughed. Her whole demeanor flipped on its head in an instant and he arched an eyebrow. “Grayson?”

  She nodded, dropping her forehead to his shoulder.

  “He deserves to rot in hell for what he’s done to you,” Rhuddlan said, clenching his jaw. Then he had a marvelous idea. “I promise you, Olivia Lockwood Stone, that I will give you all the pleasure you could ever want when I’m able once again.”

  She drew back and met his gaze. “You will?”

  “If you want me to,” he said seriously. “You deserve to know all the ways you like to be touched and tasted, to lie with a man who will worship your body, and to put George Grayson and his loathsome conduct out of your mind forever.”

  “You want to worship my body?” she asked as red crept up her neck and into the cheek he had been kissing only moments ago.

  “God yes,” he said in a rough voice, kneading the breast he still held.

  Her eyes closed and she moaned again. “But not tonight,” she said, rather breathlessly.

  “No,” he replied, and he heard the profound disappointment in his own voice.

  Olivia must have heard it too, for she grinned. “You will simply have to rest up and heal quickly, then,” she said in a low voice. “I’m going to want you at your best.”

  She rose from her place on the bed, covering his hand on her breast with her own and clasping his fingers. “Sleep well, Mr. Blake.”

  She crossed the room and opened the door slowly, glancing at Artie, fast asleep before the fire. “Do you mind if he stays here for a while? I don’t want to wake him.”

  Rhuddlan looked over at the dog, curled into a ball on the only rug in the room. “Let him sleep,” he decided. “Perhaps we’ll recuperate better together.”

  Olivia smiled gently and blew them each a kiss before closing the door behind her. Rhuddlan sighed, envious of Artie’s deep sleep but fading into fatigue himself.

  “It’s better that she left,” he muttered to himself, dropping back down onto his bed and trying to make his battered body comfortable. “That one night of pleasure I promised her might be all we have together. I want to make it wonderful for her, and not have to worry about suffocating when we kiss because my nose hasn’t healed properly.”

  He wouldn’t say it aloud or even admit it to himself, but he also wanted to make memories he could look back on after they’d parted. If one night was all he was going to get with her, he would damn well make it the best night either of them had ever had.

  They remained at the inn until the guard Rhuddlan had sent for arrived from Rhuddlan Hall, then proceeded at a leisurely pace back to Wales in deference to the injured, including himself. He spent the greater part of the journey asleep or nearly so, thanks mostly to the laudanum and the trauma his body had endured. When he was awake and alert, Olivia was by his side reading to him, playing cards with him, or just talking as she sewed.

  They had no further word from Nick, but Rhuddlan knew his brother wasn’t going to simply fade away into the countryside. As the carriage neared home, he waved off his next dose of laudanum to confront the issue.

  “Nick is still out there,” he said, meeting the eyes of the three women in the carriage with him, “and he knows who you are—especially you, Miss Stone.” He brushed the side of his hand discreetly against hers, suppressing a shudder as he remembered the sick feeling that had begun to consume him when Nick had threatened Rhuddlan’s “duchess-to-be.”

  “What do you suggest, Your Grace?” Miss Hatch asked, paling.

  “That you return with me to Rhuddlan Hall until I can apprehend my brother,” he answered. “I’m afraid it will be a bit like being under house arrest, likely for all of us.”

  “As it was before we went to Teverton Estate,” Mrs. Davies said with a nod. “I miss my garden, Your Grace, but there are worse places to be confined.”

  Olivia grinned. “You enjoyed your time at Rhuddlan Hall, did you?”

  “Yes,” Mrs. Davies said sheepishly. Then she became more serious, adding, “And I would rather be safely tucked away than take the chance of repeating any part of this week.”

  “Well said,” Olivia replied soberly.

  “Miss Hatch?” Rhuddlan asked the silent member of the group.

  She nodded. “They’re right. I miss my home, too, but if we are safer at Rhuddlan Hall, then we will accept your invitation, Your Grace.”

  “Good,” he said, hoping his excitement didn’t show overmuch. He was pleased to be keeping the promise he’d made Olivia regarding her safety, of course. He was also very much looking forward to having her with him on a daily basis. Perhaps they would be able to spend some time together that didn’t involve being hunted.

  His daydreams of domestic bliss were temporarily abandoned when they arrived at Rhuddlan Hall. Footmen rushed to the carriage to help the disembarking passengers and bring in their luggage, as usual, but this time Lewis was among them.

  “Welcome home Your Grace. How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “I’ll live,” Rhuddlan replied. “How is Vaughn faring?”

  “He wants to return to work,” Lewis smiled. “But the physician says not yet.”

  Rhuddlan allowed himself a small smile. “That’s a good sign.”

  “The Duke of Sussex is here, as well, Your Grace,” Lewis continued. “He arrived yesterday.”

  “That is not a good sign,” Rhuddlan sighed. “I asked him to come, but I didn’t expect he’d be here so soon. Where is he now?”

  “Reading in the library, Your Grace.”

  “I’ll see him in my study directly.”

  Lewis bowed and returned to the house, and Rhuddlan turned to his guests. The housekeeper was already leading Mrs. Davies and Miss Hatch toward the front door, but Olivia had lagged behind a few steps with Artie. Rhuddlan caught up to her laid a hand on her shoulder.

  “Miss Stone?”

  She turned, smiling when she met his eyes. “Yes, Your Grace?”

  The dog nudged his hand, asking for a pat, and Rhuddlan obliged him. “Will you join me for cards after dinner?”

  “I would be delighted.”

  He took her hand dropped a kiss on the back. “Then I will see you this evening.”

  She gave him one more smile, then called to Artie and went inside. Rhuddlan watched her for a moment, letting the thought of their evening together warm him in the cool autumn air. But only for a moment—Sussex was waiting.

  “You look like hell,” the prince said when Rhuddlan walked into his study, shutting the door behind him.

  But there was no offer to talk later. “Well, my brother did try to kill me.”

  Sussex frowned, rising from the sofa he’d occupied to hand Rhuddlan a stack of newspapers. “When that didn’t work, he asked Cumberland to send in reinforcements.”

  Rhuddlan scanned the papers, noting stories in each that centered around himself. Some of them merely rehashed old rumors, focusing mainly on his late wife and missing cousin. But there were new accusations mixed in: that he’d burned down the mill on his own estate because the miller stole grain from him, that he had beaten Vaughn nearly to death for being disrespectful, that he had debauched a local seamstress and made her his mistress against her will. All quoting a “Duke of C.” as one of their sources.

  “Corruptions of the truth,” Rhuddlan growled, flinging the papers onto his desk.

  “Of course they are—that’s how Cumberland plays this game,” Sussex said. “Most people won’t look below the surface of his claims. They’ll see that the mill has indeed burned down, that Vaughn was certainly attacked, and that a young seamstress is in fact a guest in your home.”

  Rhuddla
n ran his hands through his hair, tracing a finger over the scar on the back of his scalp. “And even if I can get the papers to print corrected stories, which is doubtful, no one will pay them any mind.”

  Sussex pressed his lips together and nodded.

  “Wait, what is this?” Rhuddlan picked up one of the newspapers that had slid off his desk and fallen to the floor. “This one doesn’t even pretend to be based on truth.” He turned the paper face-out for Sussex to read, then turned it back for himself. “This one says I seduce women to drink their blood, and am immortal. How am I supposed to combat that nonsense?”

  “You aren’t,” Sussex replied, resuming his seat on the sofa. “Or, at least, that’s what Cumberland thinks. When Lord Nicholas failed to kill you physically, Cumberland began a campaign to kill you socially and politically.”

  “With stories like these, Nick can attempt to have me committed to an asylum and take control of the dukedom.” Rhuddlan sighed heavily, and dropped into a nearby chair.

  Sussex shook his head. “You are Rhuddlan until your death. Nick can’t change that.”

  “I doubt it matters much to him whether or not people address him as Your Grace,” Rhuddlan said, putting a hand to his head. “He would have plenty of money and power as my proxy, even if he was never granted the authority that comes with the title.”

  “Then you’d better be on your best behavior until you stop him,” Sussex counseled. “Have you plans to wed anytime soon?”

  He’d told no one of the offer he’d made Olivia, but he thought of her. In light of this new attack, it was good she’d refused him. But, just for a moment, he let himself imagine her as his wife. “No.”

  “You might want to start looking for someone who would make a suitable duchess. A sensible marriage to a lady of high birth would go a long way toward rehabilitating your reputation.”

  Rhuddlan didn’t want a sensible marriage to a suitable lady, but he knew his friend was right. Anything that would raise his standing among the members of his class would weaken Nick’s case for commitment when it was presented.