A Duke to Remember (A Season for Scandal Book 2) (26 page)

She squeezed her eyes shut, and the heart she’d thought was already broken shattered further. Her hands tightened involuntarily around her shawl, the edges of a steel brooch she had pinned at the front cutting into her palm. Courage and strength. She had never needed them more than she did now.

“I—” she started, but never got a chance to finish because a heavy arm snaked around her neck and yanked her backward, the cold blade of a knife biting into the skin at her throat.

“Yes, do stop calling him Your Grace.” It came from behind her, and with every syllable the blade at her throat bit a little deeper.

She froze, forcing herself to remain calm. Forcing herself to acclimate before she reacted mindlessly. Her assailant was strong, far stronger than she. He reeked of gin, and his accent was not that of the street. In fact it was a cultured voice that was familiar.

Francis Ellery.

“Don’t struggle, my little ladybird,” Ellery said in her ear. Something cold and hard was dragged across the tops of her breasts, and with horror Elise realized he held a dueling pistol in his other hand.

Noah had also frozen, his hands clenched at his sides, but now they relaxed as his entire body uncoiled. She’d seen that look once before. Except this time he did not have a knife. In his elegant evening clothes, he had no weapon. No knife, no sword, not even a rag with a piece of broken glass.

“Let her go,” Noah said, and his voice was flat. “For I must warn you, the lady has far more resources at her disposal than the creatures you tormented in your childhood.”

“Christ on a pony, it really is you,” Ellery said. “A talking version of the little idiot boy who hid behind his sister’s skirts. I honestly didn’t believe it when I heard.”

“I can imagine your disappointment, Mr. Ellery.”

“
Mister.
I should be called Your Grace. Not
mister
.”

“Yes, the men you sent to kill me mentioned as much.”

Elise felt Francis tighten his hand on his knife.

“They won’t be coming to collect the rest of their payment, if you were wondering.” Noah looked as if he was trying to gauge where his best angle was going to be. “Let the woman go. Your quarrel is with me.”

“It is. But I’d as soon kill you both.” He extended his pistol and aimed it at Noah. “Perhaps they’ll think it was a lover’s quarrel.” He laughed at this. “Kind of sounded like one.”

Elise felt an icy-cold sweat prick her skin. Noah was circling, looking for his opening. She knew he was going to get one chance at this, but there was a voice in her head telling her that he wouldn’t be fast enough. It would be hard for Francis to miss with his pistol at such close range.

“My father was an idiot,” Francis said. “But he always maintained that, if one wanted a job done properly, one should do it oneself. He was right in that, at least.”

Elise’s fingers brushed the brooch at the front of her shawl. She wriggled slightly, enough to hide her movements as she slid the steel from the fabric, grasping the sharpened end between her fingers. Noah’s eyes dropped briefly, an instant acknowledgment, before they flickered back to Ellery.

“I can’t let a half-wit become a duke,” Francis sneered. He adjusted his grip on Elise. “You’ll breed nothing but more half-wits.” The pistol left her chest and wavered in front of her. “But at least you won’t be breeding with this one—”

Elise brought her hand down and slammed the pointed end of the brooch into Ellery’s thigh, as close to his groin as she could manage.

He grunted in pain, his hold slackening enough for Elise to twist and wrench herself from his grip. At the same time, Noah charged forward, putting himself between Francis and Elise, his shoulder driving into his cousin’s waist.

The report of the pistol was deafening.

Noah staggered back onto Elise, her heavy skirts tangling around her legs, and she found herself trapped under Noah’s weight as they both fell to the ground. Francis had been knocked onto his back, but he was stirring, pushing himself to his feet. Elise struggled under Noah, her heart in her throat.

Noah was breathing still, she could feel it, but the side of his head was covered in blood that looked almost black in the dim light. He groaned and tried to rise, but his movements were sluggish and unsteady, and he collapsed back on top of her almost instantly.

Francis had gained his feet now, and he approached them, tossing the pistol to the side. He brought his knife up in front of him.

Elise tried to free her skirts and her legs from underneath Noah’s bulk, but they were hopelessly tangled. She was trapped. Rage such as she had never known coursed through her, obliterating the fear.

“You’ll never survive this,” she told Francis. “If you kill either of us, you will be hunted down like an animal and destroyed. And you will never see it coming.”

“No, I’ll be a duke,” he said as he met her eyes. “As soon as this one dies—”

The man stopped abruptly midsentence, the knife sliding out of his hands. He had a faintly surprised expression on his face as he dropped to his knees, before sinking into an ignoble heap.

In the spot where Ellery had once stood, there was another figure. Against the gaslights of the street beyond, it was difficult to make out his face. The man bent slightly, pulling the long rapier-like blade that was buried in Francis’s side out from the corpse, wiping the blood on Francis’s coat before sheathing it in what looked like a walking stick. He turned a little into the light, and now Elise saw the red-gold hair and aquiline features.

With smooth movements he stepped over Ellery’s body and crouched beside Noah. He pushed him gently onto his back, away from Elise. She scrambled out from underneath Noah and came to kneel beside him, her fingers pushing his hair aside, looking for the wound. Whatever rage she’d felt had drained away, replaced with a numbing terror.

“Take a deep breath, Miss DeVries,” King said from beside her. “He’s survived much worse and lived to tell the tale.”

Elise exhaled, trying to steady herself.

King peered closer. “The bullet only grazed his skull. He’ll need stitches, and he’ll have a ghastly headache, but he won’t die.”

Noah stirred, his eyes opening. They found Elise, and he smiled faintly. “You did say dueling…pistols…unreliable.”

This time Elise didn’t fight the burn behind her eyes or the tightness in her throat. Relief poured through her, making her wobbly. “I did,” she said, as a tear leaked down her cheek.

Noah’s eyes went to the man crouched beside her, and this time he frowned, as if trying to reconcile the face he saw with the present.

“I do believe my debt has been settled,” King said.

The sound of raised voices intruded. King stood and peered around the corner of the alley and up the street toward the entrance to Lavoie’s. “We’re about to have company in a few minutes,” he said. “There is a small crowd gathering, no doubt to investigate the sound of that shot, though it will be somewhat difficult for them to determine exactly where it came from in this warren of buildings.” He stepped out onto the pavement and raised his walking stick, and within seconds a carriage rolled to a stop in front of the alley. A giant of a man stepped from the interior and waited, presumably for orders.

“Fetch the body,” King instructed. “Wrap it and put it in the carriage. It has a hole in it, so have a care with the upholstery.”

Beside Elise, Noah was struggling to his feet. Elise stood, her shawl slipping from her shoulders. She wrapped her arms around Noah’s waist and braced him, though he swayed like a sapling in a windstorm and his eyes weren’t quite focused.

“Joshua?” Noah sounded dazed.

King went to Noah’s other side and drew the duke’s arm over his shoulder. “I’m going to need a minute to get His Grace safely away from here,” he said to Elise. “I don’t think any of us want anyone wondering at the coincidence of the Duke of Ashland suffering a wound from a dueling pistol on the same night Francis Ellery vanished.” His eyes evaluated Elise’s bare shoulders and cleavage in cool detachment. “Distract and delay these would-be heroes, Miss DeVries. Redirect them. Ideally, keep them from ever making it to this alley. I will put my trust in your clever tongue and the fact that you currently look like a courtesan only a king could afford.”

“The body can’t be found,” Elise said, finally finding her voice.

King gave her a look of sharp disapproval. “Please desist from insulting my intelligence, Miss DeVries. Or I may start questioning yours.”

Elise slid out from Noah’s side. She bent and retrieved an object from the ground where it lay. She straightened, and with fingers that were no longer shaking, pinned the steel brooch to the inside of Noah’s evening coat. “Courage and strength, Noah,” she said. “You have both.”

A shout came from somewhere on the street.

“Miss DeVries, you need to go,” King warned. “Or this is going to become a situation that not even Chegarre will be able to explain away.”

Noah’s brow had wrinkled. “Don’t leave me, Elise,” he said, his words slow and slightly slurred.

The sound of voices was drawing closer.

“Hurry, Miss DeVries—”

“I’m not leaving you, Noah,” she whispered, brushing her lips against his one last time. “I’m setting you free.”

T
he Viscountess Rumsford was as cold a woman as Elise had ever had the unfortunate opportunity to come across.

She sat in the corner of the room, perched on an overstuffed chair, glaring at her daughter. Every once in a while she would sniff, her discontent dripping from every contrived nuance.

“How long since your last courses?” Elise asked gently of the sixteen-year-old, red-eyed girl who sat wretchedly on the edge of a bed draped in a pretty floral fabric.

“Fourteen weeks,” her mother snapped.

Elise suppressed the irritation that rose. Lady Rumsford had effectively prevented her daughter from answering any of the questions Elise had put to her.

“It was only once,” the girl sniveled. “It was a mistake.”

“Fourteen weeks,” Lady Rumsford repeated. “And she waited until a fortnight ago to tell me. And only because I asked her after I overheard her lady’s maid telling the scullery maid that her mistress ought to lay off the scones if she ever intended to entice Lord Durlop into more than the occasional poke once they were wed.”

Lady Rumsford’s daughter looked down, her hands twisting her skirts in her lap.

“I let both those impertinent tarts go without a reference,” Lady Rumsford continued, “though it doesn’t change the fact that Edith here has already let someone have an occasional poke.”

“There is no need to be crude,” Elise said evenly.

“It’s not your daughter who is supposed to wed an earl when she turns eighteen, is it? Do you know how hard we worked to secure such an advantageous marriage? Do you know how much of her father’s money it took? The title of countess does not come cheap. And this is how she chooses to repay us.” Lady Rumsford had worked herself into a high dudgeon.

“Is this what you want?” Elise suddenly asked the girl.

Edith looked up at her. “I want to be a countess,” she cried miserably, bursting into a new round of tears.

“Can you make this go away?” Lady Rumsford demanded.

Elise suddenly felt tired. “We have a place in which your daughter may spend her confinement,” she told her, thinking of the isolated property Chegarre & Associates owned north of York for exactly this purpose. “Not only will your daughter receive excellent care from our staff, which includes two midwives, she will have the opportunity to take a number of classes.”

“Classes?” The viscountess’s lip curled.

“Of course, my lady. Your daughter will be departing shortly for an exclusive girls’ school to continue her studies in all the things required for the day when she should become a countess.”

“I see.”

“I’m glad you do. Now, I must warn you that such a…school is expensive—”

Lady Rumsford waved her hand, indicating that this was of no consequence.

“Does your husband know?” Elise asked.

“God, no.” Lady Rumsford shuddered. “Nor will he ever. Is that understood?”

“Of course.”

“How soon can she leave?”

“It will take me two days to make the necessary arrangements.”

“Do it.”

“When the child is born, we will find it a good family—”

“I don’t care about the child,” Lady Rumsford interrupted. “So long as you can guarantee me that no one will find out about this unfortunate circumstance and my daughter will not suffer any lasting consequences.”

Elise stared at the viscountess, suddenly needing to get away. Away from the ambitious deceit and the callous ruthlessness and the heartless greed. “I’ll be in touch,” she said abruptly.

And she fled.

The River Avon flowed lazily beneath her, the clouds that drifted in the sky reflected and framed between the edges of the banks. A family of ducks disturbed the portrait, ripples blurring the images as they swam across the surface. Elise leaned on the edge of the bridge, the stone wall warm beneath her touch from the late-afternoon sun. She stared down at the water beneath her, watching it slip away.

The unhappiness that had plagued her since she’d left London returned with renewed vigor. She glanced around her at the pretty town, beautiful architecture rising majestically into the air, trees swaying softly along the riverbank, the sun drenching everything in gold. Once upon a time, Elise had lived for this. The adventure, the possibility, the novelty of each new place.

But now she just felt like an imposter. Now she just felt lost, each new place and each new role she stepped into foreign and unwelcoming.

She could try to blame it on Lady Rumsford and her ilk. The constant exposure to the rot that dwelt beneath the perfectly polished surface was certainly starting to wear on her. But that wasn’t quite it. If Elise was being honest with herself, it was the fact that, for a brief window in time, she had been given the gift of belonging.

The moment she had taken Noah Ellery’s hand on a muddy riverbank, she had become his. And in the process she had found herself again. She had been reminded of the things that mattered. The simple things that made her happy. And she had found true love.

Her thoughts drifted to Noah. She’d stopped keeping track of the number of times that happened during each day and each night, because it was an exercise in futility. And it wasn’t getting better. She’d hoped that distance would ease the empty ache that all but consumed her on most days, but that too had been an exercise in futility. Even if she returned to Canada, it wouldn’t be far enough to change a thing. One did not walk away from the only man one had ever loved without scars.

It was hard to sleep most nights, difficult to eat most days, and impossible to think—

“Please tell me you’re not thinking of jumping.”

Elise’s head snapped up, and her elbows slipped on the stone, scraping her skin. Very slowly she turned to find the Duke of Ashland standing a dozen paces from her, watching her intently with those smoky green eyes of his. He was dressed casually, his coat and breeches simple, his boots dusty, his blond hair mussed by the wind. In his hand he held a pink rose.

She stared at him, her mouth dry, her heart pounding. “How did you find me?” she blurted.

“Your brother suggested I start here.”

“I see.” She wasn’t sure if she would kiss Alex or just shoot him for his meddling ways the next time she saw him.

“This is for you, milady,” Noah said, closing the distance between them and extending his hand.

Wordlessly Elise accepted the rose. She curled her fingers around the stem, realizing they were shaking. “Is your head all right?”

Noah glanced at her. “Are you asking about my injury, or questioning my motivations in giving a beautiful woman a rose?”

Both.
“Your injury.”

“Ah. You’re referring to the gash I sustained in the rather embarrassing tumble I took from my horse.”

“Of course.”

“I’m quite recovered. Nothing that a handful of stitches and two days of sleep didn’t fix.” He gazed at her, his eyes becoming serious. “He’s different. The boy I once knew as Joshua.”

“I imagine he might say the same of you.”

“You know who he is. Who he once was.”

“Yes.”

“You never said anything.”

“No,” she replied simply. “Those secrets were not mine to share.”

Noah leaned against the wall beside her, gazing down at the river. He was silent for a long time. “If you jump, I can’t save you, you know,” he said suddenly. “Because my swimming instructor up and left before we could finish my lessons. Which, for the record, grieved me greatly.”

Elise turned back to the river as well, not looking at him. She swallowed with difficulty. “There are many people who could teach you to swim, Your Grace, if you took the notion.”

“I don’t want many people, Elise. I want you.”

Elise remained silent, unable to answer.

Noah slid a shilling onto the stone wall between them. “Turnips,” he said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You once wagered a shilling on whether Miss Silver would slide off her pony like a sack of turnips or if she would go ass over teakettle. I say turnips.”

Elise stared at him.

“I need to return to my farm to settle some details, such as the piece of land a smith is currently trying to purchase from a recalcitrant baron. I thought I’d introduce myself properly and speed things along. I had hoped you might accompany me. If only for the entertainment value.”

Elise felt her lips quirk. “Be kind, Your Grace.”

“I’ll try.” There was a shadow of a smile on his lips as well. “Someone once told me that I could do good things as a duke. I’d like to start there.”

She nodded, afraid to speak.

“My cousin has offered no contest to my return, which has silenced whatever doubters may have remained. It would seem that he has taken the notion to travel the Continent, having been released from the responsibility of the duchy.”

“You don’t say?”

Noah looked up at the sky, watching the clouds drift across the sea of blue. “And Abigail tells me my mother is making a good recovery.” His smile faded.

“I’m glad to hear that.” She paused. “Have you seen her?”

“No,” he said, and transferred his gaze to the family of ducks that were now swimming along the near bank. “I’m not ready to see her yet.”

“I understand.”

“I know you do.” He turned to her. “You are the only person who truly does. Or who will ever do so.”

She put a hand on his arm, unable to help herself. “Give yourself time.”

“I will.”

She made to take her hand from his arm but he caught it and held it fast.

“Your Grace—”

“Noah,” he said. “No matter what name I had, I’ve always been only Noah with you.”

Elise tried desperately to remember why this couldn’t happen. “Why are you here?”

“I came to fetch you.”

“Why?”

“Because when you left, you took my heart with you.” Not waiting for her to respond, he caught her face in his hands and kissed her softly. “You took my soul, you took my very life with you. And I can’t live without you.”

Her fingers tightened around the stem of the rose, a thorn pricking her flesh. “I can’t—we can’t—”

“Can’t what?”

“You’re a duke,” she whispered. “You need a woman with a title. Someone else—”

“You’re wrong. I don’t need anyone else. But you’re also right. I am a duke. And that, I have recently discovered, gives me the power to do just about anything I damn well please.” He kissed her again and then pulled back, watching her face.

She stood immobile, afraid to hope. Afraid to let herself believe.

Noah sighed and took his coat off, placing it neatly over the low stone wall. He swung himself up onto the wall beside it, sitting on the edge facing the river and letting his feet dangle over the side.

“I love you, Elise,” he said, beginning to work his left boot off.

Elise gaped, even as she was swept into a tide of emotion made up of joy and exhilaration so intense she thought she might suffocate from the force of it.

He tossed his boot to the side and began working on his right one.

“What are you doing?” she croaked.

His second boot thumped to the ground, and he peered over the edge. “Do you think it’s as cold as the Leen?” he asked.

“Noah. What the hell are you doing? You can’t swim.”

“Well, I told you that I loved you.”

A laugh escaped her, bordering on hysterical. “And you’re going to prove it by jumping off a bridge?”

“I’m counting on you jumping in after me. Because I’m not leaving here without you.” He wriggled his backside closer to the edge. “You will accompany me back to London or Nottingham or wherever life may take me, and whether you do so as Elise DeVries or the Duchess of Ashland, it matters not. I, of course, have a preference for the latter, but I am prepared to wait.”

She was laughing in earnest now, tears starting to run down her face.

Noah glanced back at her. “You might want to take your boots off too. It will take a team of oxen to pry them off later if they get wet.”

Elise scrubbed at her eyes, her vision a blurry mess.

“Your boots?” he prompted, gesturing at her sturdy half boots. “I’ll wait.”

“I’m not taking my boots off,” she whispered, all the love she had for this man swelling within her heart. “And you don’t have to wait.”

He swung one leg back over the wall toward her. “I don’t have to wait for what?”

Elise searched his eyes. “I love you too, Noah Ellery.”

He swung his other leg back over. She closed the distance between them, her hands resting on his chest. Beneath her palms she could feel the steady beat of his heart. He reached up to the collar of his shirt and unpinned something that had been fastened to the inside.

“This belongs to you,” he said, opening his hand. Against his palm a steel brooch gleamed in the afternoon sun. “Courage and strength. It was what you gave to me. And now I wish to return the favor. Forever.” Noah pinned it at the top of her bodice with infinite care. “Say yes, Elise,” he rasped. “Say you’ll marry me.”

“Yes.” She thought that she might simply burst from the happiness and the love that filled her.

He caught the back of her head and pulled her toward him, kissing her deeply. “Thank God,” he whispered against her lips. “I thought I was going to have to dare you to become my duchess.”