The Scandalous Duke Takes a Bride (25 page)

She opened the door in a huff and looked over her shoulder at Hayden as she descended. “Are you joining me, then?”

“And what of your guest?”

“It’s past midnight. Miss Camden will be fast asleep. Besides, it’s only for a drink so we can finish this discussion.”

Hayden didn’t hesitate to follow. Wilson opened the door with a bow. “Good evening, my lady. Your Grace. Shall I have the kitchen prepare a tray?”

“Don’t bother, Wilson. We’ll only share a bottle of wine. Send everyone to bed for the evening; you needn’t wait up for us.”

Wilson bowed again. “Then I bid you a good night, my lady. Your Grace.”

Jessica grabbed Hayden’s hand and pulled him toward the study. The room was very masculine, with dark wood lining the walls, rich burgundy Turkish rugs covering the hardwood floors, and furniture that was overly large, ostentatious in its display of power.

The room overlooked the street and the exterior gaslights illuminated it enough to see the large green velvet sofa and leather chairs that could seat two that filled the center of the room. It had been her husband’s favorite room. And while she’d always hated coming in here when he was alive, it just so happened to be the only room fully stocked with an array of spirits and half a dozen selections of wine. Retiring to the study meant she didn’t have to disturb the staff. The darkness faded to an amber glow as she turned on a gas lamp and lit a few candles on the sideboard that held various decanters.

“I understand your desire to continue our discussion, but I’ll not be lectured on my actions earlier this evening.”

She handed a wineglass to Hayden and settled into the corner of the sofa. She kicked off her slippers and tucked her feet under her with a heavy sigh.

“It was too damp and cool to sit out in the carriage for any length of time.” As if to demonstrate that the chill had really set in under her skin, she rubbed at the goose bumps that rose on her arms beneath the scalloped sleeves of her dress. “While I’m disappointed that you discussed very private matters with the duchess, I understand why you did it. I think it was important for you to know that. But this does not give you the right to brandish my secrets where you see fit in the future.”

“You would have done the same if our positions were reversed.”

“There’s the difference between you and I. I’ve been taken advantage of enough that I prefer to play dirty when my enemies try to maim those I love. If it was you, I would have stopped at nothing but social ruin for the other person, and believe you me, I have every intention of sorting out who the Chronicler is. The column will soon be a thing of the past.”

Hayden hitched up his trousers at the knees and sat next to her on the sofa. She dipped toward him. He clinked their glasses together. “The only person I’ve ever played dirty for is you, Jess. We’re more alike than you realize.”

She took a sip at the same time as him. She licked the residue from her lips and stared at her friend. Could she really marry him? Be his wife? He was a duke, he would need children, and the likelihood of her being able to provide them was grim. She and Hayden would be a good match in some ways, terrible in others.

The smashing of glass had both their heads snapping toward the entrance of the room.

“The servants?” Hayden asked quietly.

Jessica pushed herself up from the sofa without answering. Setting her glass quietly on the side table, she slid her feet back into her slippers and headed toward the door.

Hayden halted her. “Let me investigate the source of the noise.”

“As you indicated it’s probably just one of my servants.”

He held both of her arms as he faced her, crouching to her level so they were face-to-face. “You sent them to bed. So that’s not a chance I’m willing to take. Stay here, Jess.”

The firmness of his voice brooked no argument. She pinched her lips shut, knowing that it was futile to argue.

She never took orders well. Her husband had thrived on control and then became enraged every time he realized he could never rule her every action. No man would cow her again. No man would tell her what was best for her, how she should act, and what she should do with her life. Not even Hayden. And it was better for him to learn that now.

She let him leave the room in search of the broken glass and followed not two minutes later. She knew the lay of the house better than he did and could navigate it flawlessly in the dark of night.

Gracefully, and on tiptoes, she headed in the direction of the main parlor. Wherever the sound had come from, it was close, so she checked the immediate rooms first.

If the noise were caused from one of the servants, there would be a light on somewhere close by. Everything was just as dark as when she’d entered the house. She walked around the room to check the windows to make sure they were locked.

There was nothing out of order.

A stumble and grunt in the direction of the stairs drew her gaze toward the open door. Could that be Hayden? She walked over to the door to peer down the dark hall. There was no one nearby, but the soft shush of someone walking above her head could be heard through the floorboards. She’d only been home a short while, so the servants could be shutting up the house before they headed for their own beds.

She chose to turn toward the smaller green parlor, her heart racing now that her imagination had run wild with possibilities of where the sound had come from.

As she walked the perimeter of the room her foot crunched on the result of the broken glass. She lifted her foot away from the shards and focused on the broken window banging in the breeze.

The sheer curtains billowed out ominously, tauntingly, as she realized the worst of her imagination was indeed the truth. Someone who didn’t belong here was prowling around her house. She clicked the window shut and turned over the latch to lock it again. The window would have to be boarded for the night and fixed first thing in the morning.

Where in the world was Hayden? She couldn’t hear any walking above her now. The only sounds to be heard were of the wind whistling through the broken windowpane and a clock ticking the seconds out in the hallway.

As she walked past the fireplace she picked up the iron poker; the slide of the metal across the marble was an eerily sharp slice of sound in the almost silent house. Jessica held her breath as she tiptoed more carefully from the room, poker raised and ready to strike if someone popped out into her path. She held it aloft, not pointed, so that anyone she crossed would meet the hard side of the iron instrument, not the deadly poker end.

When she was in the hallway and mounting the bottom of the stairs a thud rang in her ears from one of the bedrooms. It sounded as though a shelf had fallen … or a person. She swallowed against the nervousness building inside her. Her right arm shook from holding the weight of the poker. Well, maybe not from the weight but from fear.

But she’d not admit to the latter when she might need to face her intruder head-on.

Closer to the top of the landing, there were more crashes of furniture, heavy objects hitting the floor and walls—or people tumbling into heavy objects—all coming from within her husband’s old room.

“My lady.” Miss Camden came rushing out of her room and toward her; she wore her dressing robe. Her hair was covered under a mobcap. When she reached for Jessica’s arms she said, “I thought at first the noise was my imagination, but it’s only intensified. I was frightened to come out of my room, but I saw you come up the stairs.”

“Go back to bed. Hayden is in there, and has everything under control,” she lied. She didn’t know if Hayden fared well or not. Oh, God, she hoped he did. She couldn’t bear the thought of something terrible happening to him.

“I couldn’t possibly leave you here.”

Jessica grasped Miss Camden’s sleeve, ready to plead and beg for her to let well enough alone. At least until Jessica knew who had come into her house and for what reason. “Everything will be fine. Please, go back to bed. I’ll find you later.”

Miss Camden very reluctantly left Jessica standing outside her husband’s bedchamber door. She looked at Jessica for a spell from across the upper-floor landing before shutting her door.

It was a miracle that the servants hadn’t heard the commotion and come running upstairs.

No candles or lights had been lit upstairs, so it was quite dark when Jessica stepped away from the stairs and closer to the thumps and heavy groans as the fight ensued beyond the double doors. She had avoided crossing them while her husband was alive and even now that he was dead. She hated that room; it had been certain torture to enter it under any circumstance in the past. And so she never willingly crossed that threshold.

Putting her shoulders back, she pressed forward with the poker still in her right hand as she turned up the latch of the door. She heard a great roar as the door slammed open and she entered the scene of a fight unlike any she’d ever witnessed before. Though it was dark, she could see a smear of blood across Hayden’s forehead. The man he had by the throat seemed limp and lifeless in Hayden’s hold.

The clang of the iron poker hitting the floor rang through the room like a church bell brought up short as she ran forward to pry Hayden’s hands loose from the intruder.

She shouldn’t have run forward with Hayden’s angry state, as he was liable to strike out unintentionally, but when she realized that he held Miller in a death grip she snapped to attention and acted before thinking. She could not stand idly by and watch Hayden kill another man in cold blood. No matter that the man deserved death and by her own hand if she could accomplish it—not that she would.

“Hayden. Don’t do this,” she begged of him as her fingers curled around his wrists and yanked until her nails cut half-moons into his skin.

He finally looked at her with his dangerous gaze and dropped Miller so suddenly that she stumbled back. Hayden caught her before she tumbled to the floor and crushed her body along the length of his. Finger tracing featherlight along her temple, he brushed away the curls that had fallen from her chignon.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“You didn’t.”

She brushed her hand over his forehead where a smear of blood had dried from a knock he’d taken to the head. He hissed in a breath when her fingers brushed against the goose egg hidden in his hairline just above his temple. It looked like it hurt a great deal and she’d have to take care of it right away.

She pressed the balls of her feet to the floor as she gained her balance, which was difficult to do in his iron grip. “You could never scare me when I know you’ll never hurt me.”

There was a moment when she didn’t want to let him go. She’d give in to any of his demands so long as he never left her and always made her feel safe. She shook away her silly, sentimental thoughts.

Had she not invited him in …

Who knew what could have happened? Who knew what Miller’s purpose was?

A groan emitted from the victim of Hayden’s fury behind Jessica. She flinched in Hayden’s arms. She couldn’t help her revulsion at Miller’s presence. She daren’t turn around just yet or she might commit to some unspeakable act she might later regret, whether or not he was deserving of her wrath.

“I can’t face that man right now.” Her voice was small. Frightened.

“You don’t have to.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave you with him, either, but I want to know why he’s snooping around my home.” She gazed around the darkened room, feeling bile rise in her throat even knowing her husband wouldn’t come in at any moment. “I want to know what he was looking for in here.”

“I already planned on getting that out of him.”

Hand once more brushing her hair back from her forehead, Hayden let her go completely and kissed her on the cheek. “He’s waking. Go before he’s aware of his surroundings.”

She nodded, trusting Hayden to deal with Miller when she could barely look at him without wanting to lose her dinner. He reminded her so completely of her husband, the vileness swept right off him and wrapped around her throat, choking away her desire to fight for what she believed was right. How could such a slimy, lowly man ever make her feel so worthless?

He should be nothing to her.

Yet.

Yet …

He
was
something. Something vile. Like a snake slithering and flicking out its tongue evilly, he made her skin crawl whenever he was near. Maybe it was the poison he’d fed her in the end that had enlightened her to his true nature as a human being. Maybe it was the way he watched her with a cruelness in his eyes just as her husband had done. Whatever instinct was telling her that this man was to be avoided at all costs, she trusted it without question.

She backed away from Hayden and edged toward the door, never letting her eyes leave Hayden’s.

Once in the hallway, she pressed her back against the paneled wall and took a steadying breath. Her hand covered her mouth when she felt she’d be ill, but the sensation passed. She closed her eyes and focused on the moment and not on everything that Miller represented and the violation she felt on him stealing into the house. She breathed steadily through her desires to run and managed to stay right where she was, knowing she needed to hear what Miller had to say.

She flinched as Hayden’s hand smacked the perpetrator, the sound of flesh on flesh raising bile in her throat again. She slid down the wall, holding her hand over her mouth, the other clutched against her stomach.