Rescued by a Duke (6 page)

He glanced toward the corner. Sasha did as well. Maryann's chin rested on her chest and her eyes were closed. Garrett took both of Sasha's hands in his. "Listen. I promise nothing will happen to you as long as you are here." He looked away then back. "But I understand how you might be apprehensive without your family close to protect you." His eyes darkened. He frowned.

"Are you well?"

Garrett squeezed her hands once and then released them. He nodded. "I'm fine."

For the next hour, Sasha appreciated the beautiful view of Garrett's grounds through the window while he sat at his desk, shuffling papers and adding sums in a ledger. She enjoyed just being with him, even if they didn't speak. His presence calmed her heart. She sighed. Would it not be lovely if she could stay there forever? Of course, it would never be possible. Who would accept her as Garrett's equal? Not his peers and certainly not the
ton
.

Garrett scooted his chair away from his desk and stood. "If it is acceptable for you, I will take you back to your room. I'm afraid I have some things to which I must attend."

Sasha nodded. "Of course." She'd forgotten someone as important as the duke would have many duties he was responsible for and many people to oversee away from his house.

Her journey back up the stairs in Garrett's arms was even better than the initial one. She was no longer lightheaded and could fully enjoy everything about him. Maryann had awakened from her nap just as Garrett was ready to return Sasha upstairs. The maid yawned as she followed them up the steps.

Garrett's muscular arms were hard as granite. The thrum of his heartbeat pulsed against Sasha's cheek as she rested against his chest. His breath whispered across her face and she relaxed as she never had. What was it about this man that put her at ease so quickly? They had only just met, yet… was there not a connection between them?

Garrett carried her to the guest room and gently set her on the bed. She scooted up and leaned back against the pillows. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Will you be all right, or shall I have Maryann attend to you?"

"I'm fine." Sasha still couldn't believe she had someone to attend to
her
needs.

"I will do as you wish, and will tell no one how you came to be injured. But I am loathe to say, word will now be out you are here without a plausible reason for being so, as a single, unchaperoned woman. Your reputation is bound to suffer."

"Thank you for agreeing to not say anything. I do not want my reputation tarnished, or to cause you any further trouble. But it terrifies me just to think someone might tell the magistrate." She shuddered. Suddenly cold, she wrapped her arms around her middle.

Garrett took a step toward the door. "I will not say anything to anyone outside of this house, aside from the physician. Trust me on that. But… someone is bound to find out. As for your reputation, I will do my best to deflect questions and accusations, but be warned, it may be quite uncomfortable."

Sasha closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded. "Thank you." She could weather the scorn of others when it came to her, as long as no one found out about Samuel's debts. The thought of being sent to debtor's prison was more than she could stomach. When she opened her eyes, Garrett was gone. She knew reputations were important, especially at his level, but why did it bother him so much? And why was he upset by the mention of her brother? It was not as if they had ever met. Had Garrett had something bad happen to someone he loved, too?

Chapter Four

Garrett closed the door and leaned his back against it, the oak cool through his shirt and topcoat. He had told Maryann she wasn't needed at present, so he was alone. He ran his hand down his face. What kept possessing him to touch the girl's hand? He was drawn to her as he had never been to another woman. As if she had him entranced in some sort of spell. He shook his head. What fancy! Was he now daft? Had he lost control of his very mind?

Time to do something productive. He glanced back at the door. Something to get his mind off the woman in the bed.

Talk of Sasha's brother's demise dredged up thoughts of Agatha. Even though three years had passed, the pain was still raw. Sasha's grief for her older brother reawakened old, painful wounds. But he didn't want to talk about Agatha with Sasha. Surely it would only make her feel worse. The poor girl had been through quite enough.

More determined than ever to help her, Garrett vowed to find the man who'd robbed Sasha of her only remaining family. It was something tangible he could do to help her, and in some small way, a dedication to Agatha. Guilt still crushed him, even now; he'd been unable to find Agatha's killer. He feared his heart would ache more than he could bear if another murderer roamed free.

He retraced his steps toward his study. There were some discreet contacts he had for getting sensitive information, which he'd used in the past. Maybe if her brother's murderer were caught, Sasha could find some semblance of peace. The poor girl had nothing. Garrett had an abundance of all of life's comforts. Surely he could come to her aid with help, both emotionally and physically.

A footman, with orders for the groom to harness up the curricle, hurried from the study. Garrett changed into driving clothes and then waited by the front door. It was of utmost importance to find the man responsible for the murder, and to find him quickly. Garrett assumed that the longer time lapsed after a crime, the harder it was for the criminal to be caught and prosecuted. It had been the case with Agatha's killer. The scoundrel had never been found.

The early part of his carriage ride was bumpy, but he scarcely noticed. The groomsman sat behind him in the rumble seat. Garrett's mind was consumed with Sasha and getting justice for her and her brother, but his thoughts also swam with memories of dear Agatha. Her proficiency at the pianoforte, her love of anything in nature. How she'd sit by the hour in the garden, watching and listening to the songbirds. And the gentle way she'd had when listening to others when they had a concern, her eyes never leaving the other person's face, her hand resting gently on the speaker's arm. She'd been the middle child but, being the only girl, had been given special treatment by their parents. Garrett hadn't minded. She'd been a sweet, beautiful child, and a wonderful, engaging young woman.

He swallowed down a sob. Why had she had to die at the hands of a greedy, heartless man? Her life had been cut short, depriving her of marriage, children, and love. Just the same as Sasha's brother. Garrett frowned. Sasha had told him Samuel was killed during a fight over a woman in a inn. Had it been a common place for him to spend time?

If so, Sasha seemed worlds apart from her brother in values and temperament. Nonetheless, she'd lost her one remaining family member and deserved to at least know the man who took him from her had paid for his crimes. Someone so brash as to commit the atrocity of murder shouldn't be free to roam about, enjoying life and possibly hurting someone else, as well.

The clip-clop of his horses' hooves along the Kensington High Street soothed him. He tried to relax for the rest of his ride, loosening his white-knuckled grip on the reins and unclenching his teeth. Getting upset again would serve no purpose. A clear head was what he needed for this quest. He knew it would take some time, but anticipated the day he could possibly give Sasha a gift of peace, knowing the person who took her brother away from her had been punished.

In Kensington, he stopped the horses outside the office of an acquaintance who happened to be a barrister. Garrett stepped down from his carriage onto the dusty street and tossed the reins to his groomsman. "Keep the horses moving. I'll be back." He nodded to a couple of gentleman as they strolled by. Straightening his hat and coat, he walked toward the stately brick building with purpose in his step.

Once inside, he stood a minute for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. An older man with a graying mustache and beard stood up from his desk and bowed. "Good morning, your grace. How may I help you?"

Garrett stepped further into the room. "Good day, Mr. Appleton. Does Mr. Renthwaite perhaps have a few moments to spare for me?"

The clerk pushed back his chair and adjusted his glasses. Light from weak sunlight through the window reflected off of the lenses. "Won't you please have a seat? I'll check if he's available." Mr. Appleton left the room with a pronounced limp, the sound of one foot dragging echoing through the room.

"Thank you." Garrett perched on the edge of a wooden chair and glanced around. The only building, as far as he knew, that housed as many books as this one was a library. When did the barrister find time to read them all? But then, laws and information were his passion, so the reading must be a pleasure for him.

The door squeaked open and Mr. Appleton reappeared. "You may go in now, your grace."

Garrett nodded and walked past the secretary's desk.

Mr. Renthwaite, a man close to Garrett's age, stood. "Good day, your grace. How may I be of service to you?" He indicated a chair opposite his desk with a wave of his hand. Both men sat.

Garrett kept his voice low. "I am in need of some of your… more delicate services."

"I see." The barrister rose from his chair, closed the door, and returned to his seat. "Go on."

"It has come to my attention that a young man by the name of Samuel Douglas was killed in a fight a few days past."

Renthwaite found a spare scrap of foolscap and grabbed his quill. He jotted a few notes. "Was this Douglas a friend of yours?"

"Actually, no. He's… he was a brother of… I'm asking not for myself, you understand, but for a friend." Garrett's face warmed. He hoped it wasn't red but imagined it was.

"So this friend seeks my services?"

Garrett shook his head. "She knows not that I am here. I want…" He glanced out the window, wishing he could lose the warmth that now encompassed his entire body. He needed to convey the facts as he knew them to the barrister, but didn't want to give more details than were necessary.

Renthwaite raised his hand slightly from the desk. "Say no more, your grace. I don't need to know the
why
, just the facts of the case as you know them."

Garrett let out a breath. "Thank you." He crossed his legs and leaned forward, his hands folded in his lap. "This man, Samuel Douglas, was in a local village inn somewhere near here. Possibly a coaching inn. I don't know exactly which one. I realize there are many."

"Not to worry. The men I employ for such matters as these are like dogs with a bone when I give them an assignment. They keep digging until all avenues are exhausted. Please go on." He bent over his desk to jot more notes.

"It happened quite recently. He fought with another man. Samuel had brought a woman with him the night in question. This other man saw her and wanted to… be with her himself. I don't know the name of the woman."

"Quite all right. Just tell me what you do know."

He shrugged. "There's not much else to tell, I'm afraid. Just that he was in a local inn with a woman, fought this other man over her, and ended up being killed by the other man."

Renthwaite glanced up. "It isn't much to go on. You are right about that. And I don't have to tell you how very many inns there are in the villages surrounding the city. But it isn't every day someone is
killed
in a inn fight, no matter how many brawls there seem to be. Fear not, we will search until we come up with either a solution or at least more information."

"I appreciate your efforts."

"Do you wish, as in the past, that we question the witnesses and give you a report? It would all be done in the strictest confidence, of course."

Garrett shook his head. "I think I would prefer it if you found the information and let me know as we go on. I would like to question possible witnesses myself."

Renthwaite raised his eyebrows. "I see." He opened his mouth and then closed it, as if he'd thought better of speaking the words. He nodded. "It shall be as you have requested, your grace."

Garrett stood and donned his hat. "You've been most helpful. I shall eagerly await word from you."

As he left the barrister's office and climbed back into his carriage, he at least had the satisfaction of having been productive. Time would tell if his efforts proved fruitful. For Sasha's sake, he hoped so.

****

No longer did she tremble. Garrett's strong arms, tight around Sasha's back and under her legs, gave her comfort. She trusted him fully. He carried her through the music room to double doors, which led to a garden. Once outside, Sasha inhaled deeply. The smell of roses always reminded her of her mother. Growing up, Sasha had helped her plant beautiful roses in red and yellow at the country house where they had worked. Every summer, they'd tend and weed them, enjoying their fragrance as they worked together in the dirt. Often, hours would go by unnoticed while they talked about this and that, dug holes, placed cuttings, and watered their leafy charges.

Sometimes even in her dreams, Sasha and her mother spent time together outdoors, creating beauty where there had once been just dirt and weeds. When she'd awaken and realize it hadn't been real, tears would be her companion for most of the day.