Heartless (30 page)

After one more day in his bed, the Duke of Derringer had had enough. Leandra had not been in to see him once in the past thirty-six hours and while he really couldn’t blame her, annoyance held him hostage. She could not have told Levi of his rough handling of her. Had the earl found out, Derringer was positive he’d not be able to rise from his bed so soon. At the least, he’d be facing the man come dawn one day soon. Part of him was disappointed. He deserved a bullet.

Rising and carefully flexing his shoulder, the duke dressed in his customary black, giving little thought to the process. Plans took form in his mind but he wondered what he should do first. A gallop on Satan was his first choice but he was sure his shoulder and ribs couldn’t possibly handle such rough treatment—especially after the jostling they received making love to his wife, he thought with a smirk. Seeking out Leandra was another idea but he was unsure of his reception. He wasn’t quite ready to die.

It was nearing the dinner hour but Derringer refused to join his guests. He knew it was only a matter of time until Adam Prestwich showed up with his wife and children and he wanted to be alone as much as possible. Damn, his home was becoming a nesting ground for every looby in the kingdom!

Deciding Satan would cause him less damage than his wife or friend, he headed down the servants’ stairs. He intended to exit the castle by way of the kitchen door but voices in the Great Hall slowed his progress.

He knew his wife’s voice instantly. The memory of gentle remonstrances, soothing tones, and delicate laughter slammed through him.

But he could hear fear in her voice now. He could hear the fear although he could not make out her words. His destination changed in that moment, hearing her fear. He moved toward her voice. If someone were threatening her in her own home, he’d throttle the impertinent bounder.

It did occur to him that he had done just that and he even admitted to himself that he deserved nothing short of death for his treatment of his gentle wife. But he couldn’t seem to rid himself of the haunting images of Leandra’s death. If she was hurt while trying to protect him, he might as well be the one holding the knife.

As he drew closer, he realized she was talking to Greville. This development caused him to halt in his tracks and unashamedly listen to their conversation.

“You have to do something,” Leandra insisted. “I can’t take this anymore. If he leaves the castle again, he will die.”

The earl placed an arm around her. For comfort, Derringer was sure, but he still wanted to knock the man down for touching her in any way.

“Leandra, he is still safe in his bed. You have nothing to fear. Adam will be here soon and I’m sure he can help.”

“But Lee was making such odd comments about him last night. And after what Hart told me about Lee going to France with that… that man, I worry about the implications of his comments.”

Lee? Harwood had something to do with this? Interesting.

“It is quite likely that your brother is babbling nonsense just to upset you. I have noticed he does not feel kindly disposed toward you.”

Leandra’s next comment was too low for Derringer to hear. Greville answered her in a low voice, she replied and Greville’s voice was just a tad louder with his next words.

“I’ll kill him for you. Better yet, I’ll tell Hart.”

Leandra reached out to stop the earl from storming away. Derringer itched to rearrange Harwood’s angelic face based solely on principle.

“Levi, you can’t. He has enough to concern him at the moment. I will deal with Lee. He has never actually hurt me and I don’t expect he will with my husband under the same roof. Please.”

Greville appeared to seriously consider telling her no. Then he bowed politely but told her clearly that if the Earl of Harwood continued his insulting manner, the duke would be informed. He left her alone in the Great Hall.

Derringer considered approaching her at that moment but decided against it. He knew the only way to lure out his enemy was to be out and about not arguing with his wife over his right to murder her brother. Somehow he doubted Harwood was the source of his troubles, however.

Satan was happy to see him. He stamped angrily in his impatience to be out. Derringer soothed him with a calm word, then saddled the beast himself, carefully checking the saddle and bridle to ensure they hadn’t been tampered with. A trifle melodramatic but this was the point to which his life had come.

After assuring himself that everything on his estate seemed for the most part, normal, Derringer returned to the castle. He didn’t want to but his wishes were moot. Sharp pains stabbed through his shoulder and neck while his ribs vehemently protested too much activity. Besides, his desire to see his wife was overpowering.

As he rode home, he pondered the chances of his receiving her forgiveness for his unpardonable behavior. If she were intelligent, she’d tell him to the go to the devil and live in the newly renovated dower house.

But what if she took his apology to mean that he was willing to allow her to risk her life finding his attacker? Would he then be forced to actually witness her demise, horrible and bloody as he imagined it would be? He shook his head. His apology would have to wait until he captured the villain responsible. Then he would simply grovel.

Satan stopped nearly causing Derringer to lose his seat for the first time in twenty years. He grabbed reins and mane to retain his balance, darting quick little glances in all directions. Something wasn’t right. He could feel it just as surely as the mighty animal beneath him.

The giant black swung his head to the right. His nostrils flared and what sounded amazingly like a growl came from his throat. Derringer’s gaze followed the same direction. He caught a sharp movement near a tree. Something glinting in the late afternoon sun like… metal.

The duke kicked the horse just as the gun exploded. Satan screamed and took off like a shot. Derringer managed to hold his seat while keeping his head low in case of a second shot. His thoughts were all on retaining his seat and staying alive.

The pair cannoned into the stable yard. Amid shouts of alarm and sharply asked questions, the duke brought the frightened animal under control and slid from his back.

When a groom stepped forward to remove the saddle, Satan bared his teeth. Derringer stepped back a pace, watching as the boy expertly groomed the stallion. He saw the boy frown at his hand and run it along the horse’s hindquarters—and get nipped at for his trouble.

The duke started forward, speaking soothingly as he did so and copied the groom’s actions. His hand came away bloody. The bullet had grazed the poor animal, which accounted for his headlong flight home and his bad manners now.

Derringer cursed long and fluently. The eyes of the boy widened to immense proportions at his inventiveness.

The duke swung around suddenly and shouted for every stable hand to congregate around. As soon as even the smallest boy was present, Lord Derringer began in the silky tones that meant he was severely displeased.

“If any one of you sees a suspicious person—someone unknown to you or to one of your fellow servants—on this estate, bring that person to me. If you see anyone, bring him or her to me. If they resist,
shoot
them and then bring them to me. I will have everyone know that this game of cat and mouse is over. I want the north woods searched. And I mean searched. Under every rock, in every hole, behind and up every tree. And I want to personally speak with anyone who has any information about who shot my bloody horse!”

This last was shouted. To a man, the servants bowed, swearing to do his bidding exactly. After leaving specific instructions for the head groom as to the care of poor Satan, Derringer stormed into the castle.

It was unfortunate that the Earl of Harwood happened to be crossing the Great Hall at the exact moment the duke entered his home. Considering how angry he was over the injury to his horse added to his conviction that Harwood had something to do with at least half of his current problems, it was impossible for Derringer to just ignore the man. Maybe he could have restrained his desire to actually lay hands on the earl but he rather doubted it.

Harwood never saw it coming. He greeted the duke with a smile that Derringer supposed was meant to be friendly. But all the duke saw behind the cherubic features was a lecherous mind and a devious spirit. His fist connected with Harwood’s face, the force of which sent that man to the floor.

Savage glee shot through Derringer at the sight. Part of him acknowledged that he’d wanted to do just such a thing since the moment he first saw the man, but part of him wanted vengeance for Leandra, for the years of mistreatment she endured at her family’s hands.

He stood over the fallen earl, hands clenched at his sides. Harwood shook his head, one hand fingering his bruised jaw while the other supported his body in its reclined position. Derringer watched, eyes narrowing as a conversation he’d had with his wife the day they’d met sprang to the fore.

Reaching down with his uninjured arm, the duke lifted the smaller man from his seat on the marble tiled floor. Holding him at eye level, he inquired silkily, “Where is your father’s will, Lee?”

The earl’s eyes threatened to pop out of his skull. “Father’s will?” he repeated stupidly.

“Yes, lackwit, your father’s will. Generally it is a piece of paper, maybe several, with words written on them in a nice legal hand. You know, words that outline the extent of a man’s wealth and to whom he wishes to leave it upon his passing. His will. The one you stole and the one I want.”

“I have no idea what you are referring to, your grace.”

“Please, Lee, I thought we had agreed we were friends. I insist you call me Hart.”

The earl trembled at the vague menace in the duke’s low voice. “Will you put me down?” he then asked with a timidity that Derringer instantly distrusted.

He did, however, put him down. He threw him down, in fact. Harwood hit the floor hard enough to make him grunt in pain.

Derringer waited impatiently as the other man gingerly rose to his feet and dusted himself off. He straightened his neckcloth and brushed down his waistcoat and jacket. It finally took a low, menacing growl from Derringer to regain the man’s attention.

“Where is it?”

“I am afraid, my lord, that you are vastly mistaken if you believe I have my father’s will. I do not, in fact. He did not leave one. It is well known that he did not.”

The duke did not like at all how confident the man sounded. It was probably true that the will was not in his possession. But Derringer was willing to bet his life that one did exist and that the late earl was far too shrewd to leave it where his avaricious wife or son might find it.

Which only meant that Harwood had perhaps left all of his wealth to his illegitimate daughter. Everything that wasn’t entailed on his firstborn son, that is. The Duke of Derringer smiled. A treasure hunt was just what he needed to distract his mind from the threat that loomed over him... and his desire to apologize to his wife.