The Duke I’m Going to Marry (Farthingale Series Book 2) (30 page)

“Has His Grace been warned about them?”

“Not yet. I’ll warn him as soon as he returns.”

They heard a commotion at the door. “That must be ’im now.”

But it wasn’t Ian, just more squirrely knaves, as Mrs. Gwynne would say. “Inn’s full,” she told the pair. “Ye’re welcome to a hot meal and then ye’d best be on yer way. There’s another inn up the road a little ways.”

One of the men fished a shiny coin from his pocket, which surprised Dillie. The pair were poorly dressed, even accounting for the bad weather, and appeared more suited to a dockside tavern than a respectable inn. She hadn’t thought them capable of raising thruppence between them. “Ride off in this storm?” one of the men questioned. “Here’s for yer trouble. We’ll stay the night in yer stable.”

Mrs. Gwynne was about to refuse, but her husband chose that moment to pass by. He saw the silver coin and nodded. “Of course, gentlemen. Have ye eaten?” He glanced into the common room and seemed pleased that it was filling. He motioned to a passing maid. Dillie held her breath, realizing who it was as the innkeeper summoned her over. “Elsie, come here. Take care of these gentlemen.”

The girl bustled to him, saw Dillie, and stiffened. “At once, Mr. Gwynne.” She hastily led the men to a table—or rather, the men pointed to their desired table, which happened to be near the other two shady-looking knaves. Elsie took their orders and then glanced at the entry where Dillie still stood. She appeared angry and hurt, but not at all remorseful for the mischief she’d caused.

Dillie had hoped the girl would take Hilda’s warning to heart, but from the look of her, she doubted it. Sighing, she considered returning to her room, but decided against it. The walk down those steps had exhausted her. More important, the newly arrived knaves had just made eye contact with the other two men, as though passing a signal. She wasn’t well versed in the art of intrigue, but something was going on. Those men had taken pains to avoid everyone else’s gaze.

A shiver ran up Dillie’s spine. Were they a ring of thieves? Even so, they wouldn’t be so bold as to carry out a theft in broad daylight. Certainly not in front of the inn’s patrons, most of whom could later identify them. Mrs. Gwynne had made no bones about being on to them. Surely they realized it.

“Miss Dillie, are ye certain ye wouldn’t rather be upstairs?” Mrs. Gwynne asked, interrupting her thoughts.

“Truly, I’m fine right here. I’ll stay out of your way.”

The woman gave a little cluck and rubbed her hands on her worn apron. “Ye aren’t in my way at all, m’dear. I’ll check on the kitchen staff and be back in a trice to tend to ye.”

“You needn’t hurry.” Dillie returned her attention to the newly arrived men. She watched Elsie set a tankard in front of each, but they had barely touched their drinks before one of them rose and sauntered back into the entry hall where she still stood.

She pretended not to notice him by studying a painting displayed on one of the walls. However, she tightened her grip on the iron shovel she’d been using as support, ready to use it if he came too close.

Fortunately, the man ignored her. His companion followed him out a moment later. Elsie hurried after them. “Sirs! Shall I set yer drinks aside?”

The pair glanced at each other. “Aye, lass. We won’t be long,” one of them said with a smirk.

Dillie did not like that ugly smirk.

She scurried to the window as soon as they walked out, her heart beating a little faster as she watched them stride toward the stable. Then the two gentlemen who had arrived first and been sitting in the common room avoiding everyone’s glances walked past her and out the door. They moved with purpose, also toward the stable. Ian was in there. “Elsie,” she said in a rush, casting aside her anger toward the girl, “find Mr. Gwynne. Tell him there’s trouble brewing and I need him to meet me in the stable. He’d better bring a couple of his men.”

“I’m sorry, Miss. I’m busy. Ye’ll have to find ’im yerself.”

Dillie grabbed the girl’s arm as she was about to turn away. “I think those scoundrels mean to harm the duke.”

That caught Elsie’s notice. She gasped and took off in a hurry, calling for Mr. Gwynne.

Dillie took off as well, moving as fast as she could toward the stable, though a turtle could have outrun her in her present state. She leaned on the shovel, trying not to howl with each painful step. Her injured foot, which had only a stocking for protection against the elements, was soaking wet and throbbing by the time she reached the stable.

She walked in carefully, trying to make not a sound even when she saw the boy who tended the horses sprawled on the hay-strewn ground. “Get help,” he said in a pained whisper, carefully rolling to his feet. “I think they’ve killed His Grace.”

***

Although Napoleon’s war had long since ended, Ian’s senses had remained on heightened alert. He’d always been cautious and distrustful of others, even more so after being carved up in front of Dillie’s townhouse on Chipping Way, courtesy of his loving family.

Damn.

Ian knew something was wrong. Young Harry, the talkative boy who’d greeted him when he’d first entered the stable, was suddenly nowhere to be found. The boy had followed him into Prometheus’ stall, chattering like a magpie the entire time. Wanting a moment’s quiet, Ian had sent him off on a made-up errand to fetch another bucket of oats. The lad had gone off some time ago and not yet returned. And now the horses were agitated, particularly Prometheus, who whinnied and kicked the wooden boards of his stall. “What’s wrong, fellow?” Ian held out a hand to stroke his nose, but the beast would not be soothed.

Damn again.

Trouble.

Could it be local ruffians? He dismissed the notion. Mr. Gwynne would ban them forever from his taproom. No, locals seeking to do mischief would wait until he was on the road to accost him.

He felt a tug at his heart, realizing what was about to happen. He’d warned his family against further attempts to harm him, but it seemed they hadn’t been dissuaded. Did they hate him so bitterly? Wasn’t the generous allowance he’d granted each of them enough?

Sighing, he reached into his boot and withdrew the knife he always carried for protection. The two characters who’d come after him on Chipping Way were now languishing in prison. His family must have retained other vermin to do their bidding. It really didn’t matter who’d been sent or how many of them were now about to attack him, for he knew who’d sent them and that’s what ate him up inside.

He strained to listen for footsteps, but the earthen ground was soft and damp, muffling all steps. Then he heard a soft creak to his left and knew that at least one of the assailants had crept to the adjoining stall. He heard another creak to his right. In the next moment, both men came at him with knives in hand.

He narrowly avoided being slashed by the first man and managed to slam a nearby empty bucket into the second man’s face, causing him to curse and fall backward into Prometheus’ stall. He whirled and cracked that same bucket over the first man’s head as the bastard attempted again to slash him. The knife flew out of the man’s hand, and as he knelt to retrieve his fallen weapon, Ian gave him another good, hard crack over the head with that bucket and knocked him out cold.

One down.

Ian grabbed the fallen knife and then turned to the second man in time to see Prometheus rear in panic and land both front hooves hard on the man’s chest. He heard the sharp crack of bone and then the man’s sharp gasp.
Crumpets!
as Dillie would say. That had to hurt.

He was about to rescue the undeserving wretch from Prometheus’ hooves when another two men suddenly appeared. These men had pistols drawn. Ian dove behind a bale of hay as one got off his shot. He heard it whizz past his ear. Too close. The bullet narrowly missed his head. But now Ian realized he was pinned between two bales of hay and had no way out.

The other blackguard stepped in front of him and raised his pistol. Ian knew there was no chance he’d miss.
Dillie, I’m sorry. I won’t be there for you.

The shot rang out and somehow struck an overhead rafter instead of him. He heard a dull thud, and then the man fell atop him unconscious. “What the—”

He shoved the motionless body off him and scrambled to his feet in time to see Dillie swing an iron shovel hard at the knees of the last man left standing. That blackguard howled and crumpled to the ground. “My knee! You bitch! I’ll get you for this!”

She raised the shovel to swing it again, but Ian grabbed it from her hand before she accidentally struck him—or Mr. Gwynne and the sturdy helpers who’d just come running in to save him. He no longer needed saving, of course. Dillie had managed to complete the job, just as she had the last time he’d been attacked on Chipping Way.

“Lord love me! Mrs. Gwynne suspected these knaves were up to no good! I ought to have listened,” Mr. Gwynne said, shaking his head at the bodies littering the stable. “What a mess! And they coshed young Harry over the head pretty good, but he’ll be all right. That boy has a thick skull.” He ordered his men to tie up the assailants, sent one off to summon the magistrate, and then grinned at Dillie in obvious admiration. “Good thing ye alerted us, though ye don’t seem to have needed our help.” He turned to Ian. “Yer Grace, are ye injured?”

Ian shook his head and let out a soft laugh. “No. I’m well, thanks to my valiant defender.” His smile faded a little as he studied Dillie. She had on her stained gown and her equally stained cloak, and she wore one boot. At the moment she was leaning against him, looking quite uncomfortable as she tried to keep her injured, unshod foot in the air. She was covered in a sleety snow that clung to her hair and cloak. “Bloody hell,” he said quietly. “You might have been killed. Are
you
all right?”

She nodded and leaned closer. “About our earlier conversation,” she said in a whisper, “I have something I need to say to you… concerning Elsie.”

Bloody hell again.

“Dillie, can’t it wait?” This was hardly the time or place for the discussion. He wanted to question those men first and have his suspicions confirmed. No doubt his family had sent them and they had been following him since London.

“No, it can’t.” She had that stubborn, Dillie look of determination on her face, completely ignoring that he had almost been killed. That
she
could have been killed. Apparently, facing death was no more daunting for her than a stroll in the park. Lord, he didn’t stand a chance. Napoleon’s armies would have surrendered to her if faced with that stubborn look.

Ass, she just saved your life again.

He owed it to her to listen to whatever she had to say. Obviously, finding Elsie unlaced beside him had distressed her more than facing death at the hands of these fierce assailants.

He carried Dillie off to the side where several bales of hay were neatly piled and set her down on one of the bales. He hoped the small, makeshift wall of hay would lend them some privacy, for he expected her to unleash some stunning blows. He’d take whatever she wished to dish out. He owed her that much and more.

“Go on, tell me what’s on your mind.” He folded his arms as he stood beside her, waiting for the barrage of angry accusations. However, he kept his gaze on Mr. Gwynne and his staff as they worked, for he needed to be sure the blackguards were securely bound and unable to cause more harm. Only then would he carry Dillie back to the inn, before she did more damage to her injured foot.

She tugged on his jacket. “You have to look at me.”

He sighed, knowing he ought to face his punishment like a man. “Very well.” Reluctantly, he gave her his full attention.

She squared her slight shoulders and cast him a hesitant smile. “I’m so sorry, Ian. Can you ever forgive me?”

“What?” He shook his head, certain he’d heard wrong. Where were the insults and accusations?

“I owe you an apology and I hope you’ll accept it.” She placed her small hand on his arm. “I’m not very good at this courtship thing. I don’t suppose anyone would consider this a proper courtship anyway. We seem to leap from one scandal to another, from one adventure to another. A little too adventurous for my tastes, by the way.”

He let out a soft, groaning laugh. “For me, too.”

“What I’m trying to say, perhaps ineptly, is that you’ve never given me reason to doubt your honor. I’m truly sorry that I ever did.”

“Dillie, you don’t owe me—”

“But I do,” she insisted. “Elsie caught me by surprise, I will admit. Seeing you with her brought all my fears rushing to the fore.”

She glanced at the bales of hay piled up around them. “Won’t you sit down next to me? I’m getting a crick in my neck looking up at you.”

“As you wish.” He settled beside her, trying not to respond to the softness of her body against his, or the sweetness of her smile. She had his head spinning. He’d expected an argument, at best a heated conversation. But she was apologizing to him. Was he dreaming? “Daffy—”

“You’re still angry with me. You called me Daffy.”

“I’m not at all. I’m grateful to you for saving my life. A second time, no less. I’m surprised, but grateful, for your apology. I didn’t expect it. I didn’t expect
you
in my life.” The stable smelled of wet horse manure, wet hay, and wet chicken feathers. The place was damn cold, too. Yet it felt like paradise now that she was here beside him. He called her Daffy whenever he felt the urge to call her something far more dear, such as “my darling.”
My love
.

She had found her way so deeply into his heart that she was firmly etched in there. Forever. The depth of his feelings for this snip of a girl frightened him. A little unsettled, he rose again and propped his foot on the bale of hay where she sat. He leaned toward her, wanting to kiss her. Wanting to do so much more, but that would have to wait until he got her back into bed. “You turn me upside down and inside out.”

She grinned. “That’s progress, I think. Just try to see it from my position.” Then her grin faded a little and she shook her head. “You’re wonderful and perfect. Too wonderful and perfect. At times, you overwhelm me. I don’t know what I have to offer you. I’m still not sure why you’d want to chain yourself to me for the rest of your life. You’re a duke. You can do anything you wish. You can have any woman you desire.”