Geek Girls Don't Date Dukes (34 page)

ever see him again? Would she ever be able to tell him

about Avery?

And the valet who’d chased her down and stolen her

heart? She thought of him most of all.

If she survived this, the first thing she’d do is tell him

she loved him. It couldn’t wait another second. He had

to know that he meant everything to her.

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Twenty- Seven

The next day dawned grim and gray, like Avery’s

mood. He rose early, energy humming through his

muscles. The sooner he beat Emersen, the sooner he

could rescue Leah.

Leah.

She was in danger because of him.

His anger simmered just below the surface, fueling the

fire in his muscles as he stretched in the ring. Prachett’s

men, including one Lachlan Mackenzie, stable master

to the Duke of Granville, milled nearby. Avery gave

Mackenzie a dark smile. He knew where the betrayal had

come from now and would recompense him accordingly

once Leah was safe again.

The crowds came. Fine lords and ladies, common

laborers, the young, the old— they filled in the gaps at the

sides of the square, elbowing and crowing to get closer

to see the bouts. The first match lasted near two hours.

Cribb and Gulley pounded one another until the blood

flowed like wine. Cribb was the victor, when Gulley lay

in the dust and did not rise.

All during the long match, Avery kept a watchful eye

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on his jailers, waiting for an opening. One never came.

He’d have to fight his way out through his opponent.

“Emersen’s a tough ’un,” Jenks said as Gulley’s men

cleared the unconscious man from the ring. “His guard

is high, and he’s lightnin’ quick. Best to hit him low and

often if you’re to have a chance, lad.”

“Aye, and mind your feet. Be light and fast, he’s no’

used to that,” Tarley chimed in. “Won’t be easy, but you

can win if you pull your head from your arse.”

Avery took the jibe without comment. Jenks and

Tarley didn’t know about Prachett’s manipulation of

both Avery and the matches. They only knew that Avery

had lost two matches he could have easily won.

“I will do my best. You have my word.”

Avery stepped into the ring to the hisses and jeers

of the crowd. Emersen was the clear favorite. That was

what Prachett counted on.

Avery stood at the line and nodded to his opponent.

Emersen, a ruddy beast of a man, stood over six feet tall.

He towered over Avery, thicker, stronger, in every way

his superior.

Avery widened his stance and raised his fists. There

was no force on earth that could stand between him and

Leah. Not even this beast of a man.

They came together like two leviathans, with a crash.

The noise was deafening as the crowd cheered at every

landed blow.

Bruises and blood, fists and grunts flew as they

pummeled each other. Round for round, blow for blow,

they were as perfectly matched as any pair of combatants

could be. As the hours dragged on, and the warriors

slowed, only one thought kept Avery moving.

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263

Leah.

She was in danger because of him.

This man kept him from rescuing her.

In the twenty-

third round, with Avery’s vision

clouded by blood, his fists swollen, cut and aching, bones

broken and head spinning, he saw his opening. A quick

stumble, a simple misstep, and Avery laid into Emersen

without mercy. Right and left, over and over, he let his

rage pour through his fists.

The crowd went silent as Avery stood. Emersen

moaned but did not rise.

The victor did not waste a moment on the loser.

He only had eyes for one man, the man standing in the

corner of the ring, gloating at his victory.

Prachett.

The distance between them melted away as if it were

nothing. Avery grasped Prachett’s coat, shaking the man

as if he were a dog with a bone.

“Where is she?”

Prachett coughed, clawing at Avery’s hands. “Let

me go.”

Avery lowered Prachett to the ground, but he did not

release him. “Damn you, you perfidious cheat, where is

she? I lost the matches as you told me, and won this one,

now I’ll have her back.”

Murmurs ran through the crowd.

“Cheat?”

“Wot did he say?”

“He lost purposefully?”

A shrill voice penetrated the fog of anger surrounding

Avery. “Thomas Prachett has been manipulating the

fights for his own gain!”

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The crowd surged around them, carrying Prachett

away from Avery in a tide of outrage.

“Where is she, Prachett? Damn you, answer me!”

There were too many people between them. He cast

about for another answer.

Prachett’s men had scattered, unwilling to be caught

with their master now that the scheme had failed. But

one was not as fast as the others.

“Mackenzie.” Avery caught the stable master by the

neck. “You will tell me what I need to know, and you

will tell me now.”

i

Shouts woke her, though she hadn’t realized she’d

fallen asleep. Angry male voices— it was hard to tell

how many—

arguing and cursing one another. The

sharp crack of gunfire made her jump, and she struggled

to sit up. Her body groaned and protested, but she

managed to prop herself against a wall. She pushed

against the wall with her bound hands behind her and

struggled to her feet.

Damn it, if only she could freaking see! She could run

while they were distracted if she just had a peephole. But

while the weave of the bag was loose enough to allow

oxygen to flow to her, it wasn’t large enough in the dim

room to give her a clear line of vision.

She had to do something. She was tired of lying here

and waiting for someone to either kill her or rape her.

Her scream was so loud it nearly pierced her own

eardrums. She stumbled but pressed back against the wall

to steady herself. Let them ignore that if they could.

i

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Avery was nearly out of his head with worry by the

time he located the secluded hovel in the woods that

Mackenzie had confessed was their prison. His horse

had pulled up lame, and he’d had the devil of a time

finding another. She’d been in their custody for nearly

a full day. Anything could have happened to her. How

could he know the brigands Prachett had hired would

leave her unharmed?

Blackhearted devils. If they’d hurt her, he’d kill them

all with his bare hands. Gladly.

He circled the area, making the best of the fading

daylight. There were no lookouts posted. Of course,

Prachett knew that Miss Ramsey was not really of the

ton and therefore had no powerful allies to come to

her aid.

Cold rage had replaced the angry passion of the

morning, and Avery was glad of it. He could examine

the situation much more clearly and rescue her that

much sooner.

The mare picked her way over a thin stream, and

Avery dismounted once they’d reached the other side.

He tightened the makeshift bandage on his forearm,

wincing as pain blossomed. There was very likely a

broken bone, but he had no time to tend to it. There

would be time enough once Leah was safe.

The reins rasped softly against the branch of a young

willow as he tied them. With a whisper of gratitude to

the black mare, he crept through the twilight woods

toward the cabin. He moved swiftly and silently, taking

care to step on damp earth. Bodies milled by the door of

the cabin, and he crouched to better count his opponents.

He’d only counted four of them when angry shouts

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echoed through the woods and a shot rang out. Leah’s

bloodcurdling scream pierced his heart.

His feet pounded against the earth as he bolted for the

cabin. Had she been shot? Oh God, had he come so close

only to lose her like this?

The duke’s voice ground him to a halt at the last

ring of trees before the building. “Oh my darling, are

you harmed?”

“No, no I’m fine.” Clear. Shaken. But that was defi-

nitely his angel.

Leah.
Avery sank to his knees in relief at the sound of her voice. She was whole. A strange sensation pricked at

his eyes, but he rubbed it away. He staggered to his feet,

ignoring the nerveless feeling in his legs. He must go to

her. He must assure himself that she was unharmed.

He rushed past the duke’s carriage but pulled up short

at the sight inside.

His Grace’s arms were around Leah, locked in a

passionate embrace. Her beautiful lashes dusted her

cheeks as her arms were wrapped around his neck in the

picture of perfect pleasure.

Avery’s heart crumbled to dust in that moment.

He waited for a breath or two, hoping, praying that the

vision was false. When the duke murmured to her softly,

Avery slammed his eyes shut and staggered backward.

She hadn’t stopped him.

He turned and strode for the horse, ignoring the looks

of the men who milled around the front of the cabin.

He’d been too late. Much, much too late.

The sight of their embrace seared itself into his brain,

a throbbing reminder of what he’d lost. A dark laugh

escaped him as he freed the black mare from the willow.

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Had he expected Leah to throw over a duke for the love

of a valet? A poor man with no home, no coin, and a past

that put her in mortal danger?

He’d been so stupid. So very stupid.

i

The journey back to London was a long and lonely one.

Along the way, he recounted each and every one of his

sins in the past few months. The list lasted him until he

reached the outskirts of Town, and even then he was

certain he’d forgotten a few.

He must return to Granville House and claim his

meager possessions. Then to find employment some-

where. He was certain he’d get no reference from His

Grace after the way he’d declared his participation in

Prachett’s scandal. The lack would make things more

difficult, to be sure, but he’d as soon never speak to His

Grace again after the embrace he’d witnessed. The man

had rescued Leah when he had not, and that made him a

better mate. She deserved nothing less than a duke.

Avery slammed his eyes shut as the pain locked its grip

about his heart again.

“Leah, why?”

The whispered question was unanswered, as he’d

expected. A man such as he did not deserve answers.

He’d failed her. He’d allowed her to come to harm.

How could he blame her for choosing the duke?

He dismounted at Granville House’s stables, rubbing

down his horse and returning the tack to its proper

place. The young stable lad eyed him curiously but kept

his distance.

His steps were leaden as he moved toward the house.

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He could not remain at Granville House with Leah

as its mistress. Though his sins were many, and his

punishment justly deserved, that was a pain he could

not endure.

The chatter in the servant’s hall died as he entered the

room. Scents of boiled mutton and cabbage greeted his

nostrils, but he paid no heed to the growling in his belly.

He could not stomach any more derision from his fellow

servants, even to satisfy his hunger. With a polite nod to

the gaping maids and dumbfounded footmen, he walked

toward the stairs.

“Russell.”

Smythe’s voice stopped him. Avery shut his eyes but

did not turn.

“Yes?”

A chair scraped back and a gentle, fatherly hand lay on

Avery’s shoulder. “Sit. Eat. You must be weary.”

Avery waited a heartbeat for a blow to fall. It didn’t.

“May I ask why?”

The hand disappeared, but Smythe did not. The

man’s voice was gentle as he spoke. “Mackenzie left

not long ago, raving about Prachett, the mills, and your

involvement. We had assumed the worst about you, and

Mackenzie fostered that bad opinion. We’ve wronged

you, my lad, and we would make it right.”

The kindness nearly felled him. He took a deep breath

and faced Smythe.

“I thank you, sir.”

Smythe held his chair out for him. Mrs. Harper

brought a wet cloth for him to wipe his hands and face,