Two Notorious Dukes (20 page)

Robert shook his head. ‘Water off a ducks back!
You develop a thick skin in the army.’ He sighed. ‘If I
couldn’t handle a little gossip I would have buried
myself in the country years ago.’ He laughed coarsely.
‘The speculation will continue until Abigail Beresford
produces her bastard and so long as it’s blond, the
speculation will continue. If its brown or red, then
they’ll know who the father is. But sooner or later
something will happen to turn the gossips head and
we’ll be forgotten.’

They chatted amiably about the papers and bills
for the afternoon session and returned to the house at
around two o’clock. Robert sat comfortably on the
bench, folded his arms over his chest and promptly
nodded off. It had been a long sleepless night and now
Craanford had been dealt with, he felt relaxed enough
to nod off. Argyll smiled wryly and listened intently for
the first ten minutes. By three o’clock he was dozing
too.

Elizabeth was sitting in the drawing room alone.
She was finishing the embroidery on a fine muslin
shawl. She intended to wear it on her wedding night,
but she had a feeling she wouldn’t be wearing anything
on her wedding night.
Still it keeps my hands busy.
She
thought as her mind strayed back to Robert and how he
was that morning. She sat with the small smile curving
the corners of her mouth and she gasped as she
recollected how velvety and soft he felt.

The door flew open, crashing into the wall hard
enough to rattle the Turner watercolour hanging from
the picture rail. She looked up in shock to see a ragged
Alexander Audley swaying in the door frame. Behind
him on the carpet, she could see an unconscious Mary,
bleeding from her nose. She sat, rigid in the chair, her
mouth a dark circle of incomprehension, her needle
arrested on its travel back to the cloth.

‘So here you are!’ he blurted. He was very drunk.
Alexander had left the house that morning and spent
the day burying his own cowardice in the bottom of a
bottle. ‘Going to marry that harlot Roding are you?’ he
staggered into the room and made a grab for Elizabeth’s
wrist. ‘Over my dead body!’ he said incautiously. As his
fingers tried to close on her wrist Elizabeth was jerked
out of her stupor and she dived out of the chair and
reached for the fire iron on the hearth. But Audley was
ready for it and grabbed her around the waist. He
turned her around, clutched both of her wrists in one
hand and tried to kiss her. Elizabeth wriggled and
jerked, trying to heave her body from his embrace.
Audley gripped her hair with his other hand to keep her
head still and crushed his mouth over hers so brutally
that the skin was smeared off her lips against her teeth.
Elizabeth did as Robert had told her to do and she
jerked her knee upwards into the fork of his legs, but
Audley was waiting for it and took the blow on his thigh.
He wrenched her face away from his and brought his fist
straight onto her jaw. As Elizabeth slid into
unconsciousness, Audley heaved her over his shoulder
and staggered out of the door, heading towards the
back of the house.

He was quite annoyed, as he’d had to deal with
quite a few members of staff, but he’d had the most
satisfaction of punching Rogers in the face until he
stopped moving.

Lady Sarah Trevanon had ordered tea. She was
still sitting in her bedroom and wondering where the
maid had got to. She stormed out of the Pink room and
ran down the stairs to the main landing. She knew that
Elizabeth was in the informal drawing room on the
ground floor and Lady Verity was in her private sitting
room. So she swung her body around the post at the
top of the main staircase and stopped dead, as she saw
Alexander Audley carrying an unconscious Elizabeth
over his shoulder. He was muttering to himself so she
listened intently as she silently walked down the stairs
and followed him to the back of the house.

‘You’re not going to marry Bosworth, because I
said so. You’ll be too busy attending to your wifely
duties to me!’ he laughed lasciviously. ‘And I have just
the thing for a wayward wife who has said no six times.’
He patted her bottom. ‘You’ll like it! I got it from a slave
trader, complete with shackles and everything!’

Sarah watched in horror as he walked straight
out of the door to the stables. He didn’t look behind him
once. So she followed cautiously and watched as he
heaved Elizabeth onto the seat of his carriage. He
looked up at the coachman and said clearly. ‘Take us
home!’ and scrambled inside slamming the door after
him. She stood and watched the coach turn into the
mews and then she turned and ran back into the house.

It didn’t take her long to find out where all the
men were. Most of the footmen were tied up in the
staff dining room, the housekeeper, cooks and
housemaids were locked in the cellar. She released all of
the staff as fast as she could, ran up the stairs and
quickly stripped off her dress, threw on her britches and
riding clothes. She ran down the stairs to find Rogers
just coming around.

Sarah ran down to the stable, led her horse out
and threw it’s saddle and headgear on, threw herself
into the saddle and galloped out of the gate and down
the mews.

Robert started to moan, which alerted Argyll. He
sat up straight, washed his hands over his face and
nudged Robert hard in the ribs. Robert sat up with a
jerk, eyes staring and breathing ragged.

‘What were you dreaming about?’ Argyll
whispered.
Robert looked around at his friend and slowly
relaxed shaking his head. ‘Nothing I’m going to tell you
about.’ He signalled the steward and ordered some
Claret. The steward arrived quite quickly. Robert took a
deep draught of his wine. ‘What’s being discussed at the
moment?’ he asked and yawned.
‘I haven’t the foggiest!’ Argyll said as he took his
glass of wine. He looked down the chamber and
couldn’t believe his eyes. ‘Good God! Is that Sarah?’ he
said as he could see his blond fiancé, dressed in britches
and a shirt, in a full blown wrangle with the steward on
door duty. ‘It is! What the hell is Sarah doing here?!’
and he leaped off the bench and forced his way out.
Robert looked at her with a sinking feeling in his
stomach and took off after his friend.
As Argyll got to the door, he saw Sarah kick the
steward in the shin. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
he demanded brusquely. ‘This is no way for a Lady to
behave!’
‘That all depends on whether stupid stewards
will listen to her!’ she spat and eyed the steward with
disdain. She turned to Robert as he came through the
door.
‘Robert, he has her!’ she blurted. But of course,
Robert was still a little groggy from just waking up.
‘Who has got whom?’ he asked in exasperation.
‘Alexander Audley invaded our house this
afternoon, knocked Elizabeth unconscious and threw
her into his carriage to take to his home!’
All the colour drained from Robert’s face.
‘Where is your horse?’ he asked with such a chill in his
voice that Argyll was worried. But before he could say
anything, Sarah blurted. ‘It’s outside the door!’
Robert ran to the horse, threw himself in the
saddle and galloped away from Parliament as if all the
angels of hell were on his heels.
‘Call my carriage!’ Argyll ordered and grasped
Sarah by the arm, frogmarching her out of the door.
‘Damn, Damn! DAMN!’ he finished loudly. ‘Why
couldn’t the stupid man listen this morning?’
‘Well, he kept muttering about how she’ll be too
busy seeing to her wifely duties and he had just the
thing for a wayward wife.’ Argyll turned to Sarah in
horror. She looked up at his face. ‘It didn’t sound too
clever when he said he’d got it from a slave trader,
either.’
‘Oh! Dear God!’ Argyll muttered as his carriage
drew up and he manhandled Sarah inside. ‘Berkley
Square, as fast as you can!’ he told the driver and threw
himself into the coach.
‘What did that mean?’ she asked so innocently
he could have cried.
‘My dear, not all men are as nice as Robert and
myself. We have been unfortunate enough to see the
horrors of this world. When we get there you must stay
in the carriage. You must. I don’t want you to see what
that monster will probably have done to Elizabeth
before we get there. I may have to stop Robert from
killing him.’ He turned to face her and saw the tears on
her cheeks. ‘I love you, Sarah. Remember that.’ And he
engulfed her in his arms and kissed her so passionately
she started to moan. They parted as the carriage
skidded around a corner and Argyll had to hold on.

Robert was panting with his effort to urge the
horse to greater speed, but it was a small horse for a
man of his size and it was starting to flag. He was
burning with impatience and wished he could sprout
wings and fly to Berkley Square. The traffic was quite
bad as it was the middle of the afternoon and the
hawkers carts were everywhere. He scattered a gaggle
of nannies in the park and narrowly missed trampling an
old woman selling violets on the corner of St. James’s
Street and Piccadilly. He had to slow down on Piccadilly
as the traffic was terrible. A couple of Shire horses
pulling a wagon filled with ale barrels had fallen and it
was almost impossible to get past, so Robert flew into
Dover Street, along Hay Hill and into Berkley Square.
Robert slowed his pace and trotted calmly up to the
front door of Craanford’s Town House. The only reason
he knew where he lived was because Verity had
mentioned it during dinner one night and Elizabeth had
described the house and told them the address.

Robert stepped down calmly from the back of
the horse and strode to the front door, rapping the
knocker sharply.

The butler opened the door slowly and Robert
strode in. ‘I need to see Lord Craanford, now!’ he said
briskly.

‘I’m sorry, Sir, but his lordship is resting.’ The
butler said calmly.
Robert pulled himself to his considerable height,
looked down his nose and said haughtily. ‘You can
address me as Your Grace! Where is Audley?’
‘I’m sorry Your Grace, but he asked not to be
disturbed. He has a Lady with him, Sir.’ The butler said
calmly hoping to deter this exceptionally tall duke. At
that moment Elizabeth screamed. It was a blood
curdling scream and even the butler closed his eyes and
shook his head.
‘Which room?!’ Robert demanded as Argyll
arrived behind him ‘Dammit man, that’s my fiancé he’s
raping!’
‘Main suite at the top of the stairs, Your Grace.’
Robert took the stairs two at a time and Argyll
was right behind him. ‘Where’s Sarah?’ he asked softly.
‘In the coach, I hope. I tried to impress upon her
the need to stay.’
Robert arrived at the door and neither men
could miss the hiss and crack of a whip, it sounded like a
bull whip like the drivers used. Robert tested the handle
but the door was locked. He took a run and kicked it
with his heel just above the lock and the wood
splintered allowing Argyll who was following to barge
the door open with his shoulder.
At first Robert couldn’t quite take in what he
was seeing. In the centre of the room, instead of a bed
on the dais, stood a punishment frame. He’d seen
enough of them in the army as unfortunate soldiers
caught in a misdemeanour were stripped and flogged.
The difference with this one was the shackles, like a
prisoner would wear. Hanging from the shackles was a
naked woman, with fiery dark hair. Standing to the side
and dipping a cat o’ nine tails into a bucket was Lord
Audley, without apparel, his erection hard to miss and
in his other hand was a bottle of brandy held by the
neck. In his obviously drunken state, he turned and
peered at the newcomers.
‘You can bugger off. She’s mine, just like Edward
promised she would be!’
Robert went to step forward as his fist balled
beside him and Argyll grabbed his shoulder and said
‘See to Elizabeth.’ Argyll walked towards Audley and
kicked him straight in the balls. Audley lifted up on his
toes as his breath was expunged and he slowly folded
up onto the floor.
Robert started looking for the key to the
shackles and found it on the table on Audley’s watch
chain. He carefully opened the shackles and Elizabeth
collapsed into his arms. ‘Get me a sheet or something?’
he asked as he carefully laid Elizabeth on the carpet.
Argyll ran into the next room and yanked the eiderdown
off the bed and between them they managed to wrap
Elizabeth in it. Robert lifted her carefully and walked
slowly down the stairs. In the foyer he looked at the
butler. ‘Give him a message. He can either meet me a
dawn tomorrow morning in Hyde Park or he can run
back to Ireland, but if he chooses to run, tell him to be
out of London by the end of tomorrow, or I will kill him!’
The butler looked at Robert’s eyes and nodded his head.
Robert went to the carriage and Sarah was stood
beside the door, the coachman hanging onto her arm.
‘Sarah you should take your horse.’ Robert told her and
she climbed on the beast without comment, but waited
for the carriage. Between them they manoeuvred
Elizabeth in until she was lying on her side on the seat.
Robert knelt on the floor in front of her and stroked her
head. ‘Home! As quick as you can!’ Argyll said and
plonked his backside in the corner of his carriage.

Elizabeth moaned with every jerk of the carriage,
but she hadn’t opened her eyes. Robert frequently
kissed her temple and talked to her, telling her it was
over and how much he loved her.

Argyll sat in the corner, his heart breaking for his
friend and prayed she would recover. He had been
horrified at the amount of blood on the carpet, but it
wasn’t the first time he’d seen a flogging either. ‘Until
we can get the wounds cleaned up, we won’t know the
extent of her injuries.’ He murmured.