An Unlikely Duchess (36 page)

“Rebecca, my love, can you hear me?” He tried to move the hair from her face but it was completely matted and the blood was still flowing. Tom hurried over and knelt on the other side of her weakened body. “There is so much blood, Tom. I do not know what to do.” His voice was hoarse from fear, from the hot tears choking him, threatening to burst through.

He was losing her. He could see her eyes, her beautiful dark eyes, drifting closed. “Rebecca, Rebecca please. Please hold on. Please do not leave me. I love you.”

And then the proud Duke of Hartridge who had not shed a single tear since he was ten years old bowed his head and cried.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Rebecca awoke to unfamiliar sounds and smells, though the smells were delicious.

Her skull once again felt like it had been split in two and her mouth was dry as the Indian desert.

She was afraid to open her eyes, as she knew instinctively that the light pressing on her lids would hurt like the devil.

But finally her curiosity got the better of her and she lifted her lids cautiously, wincing as her thoughts were confirmed and the sunlight nearly blinded her. She blinked a couple of times trying to become accustomed to the light.

The source of the light was an open window to her right, the curtains billowing as a pleasant spring air floated into the room.

Looking around the room Rebecca knew that she did not recognise it. However, the fear of the last time she’d woken in a strange room was not present. The walls were white and clean. Simple, rustic and sparsely decorated. It seemed to be a farmhouse or cottage, she thought, as there were similarities between this and Martin’s family cottage back home.

Rebecca looked down at the coverlet covering her, a patchwork of bright colours and frowned. Where was she?

Her throat was painfully dry and she moved her head to the left in search of a jug of water.

Her throat closed altogether at the sight which awaited her.

Edward’s giant form was curled into a small wooden chair. His legs were stretched out in front of him and his head had dropped to his chest, his arms folded against his abdomen.

What
is
he doing sleeping by
my
bedside?
she wondered, though the sight of him brought a happy smile to her face.

Her mind felt strangely muddled and she furrowed her brow as she tried to remember what had happened.

Gradually the pieces began to fall into place and her mind swam with images of the nightmare she had recently lived through. The drugging, the bedroom in the lodge, the terrifying chase through the woods. She remembered it all; remembered George Simons pinning her to the ground. The sickening
thud
as her head had met the rock. She lifted her hand now, gently to her forehead and was dismayed to feel a large bandage covering a large portion of her forehead and hair.

I
must look a fright,
she thought, and then giggled silently at her foolish vanity.

Finally, she remembered, though unsure if it were a dream or not, Edward’s wonderful face looking down at her, begging her to be well and saying that he loved her.

Surely a dream. But a beautiful one.

Had she not hoped with all her heart that he would come for her? That he would somehow find a way to rescue her? And he had. But how?

Rebecca was desperate for some answers, but first she was desperate for a drink.

Thankfully there was a pitcher and cup on a small table by the bed. As quietly as possible she sat up and was grateful to find that the room stayed in one spot, though the pain increased dramatically.

Closing her eyes and willing the pain to ease a little, she slowly reached for the pitcher of what was presumably water. On lifting it, Rebecca was caught off guard by how heavy it was and how weak she felt. She made a valiant effort to hold onto it but it was no use.

As if time slowed down, she watched as it slipped from her grasp and fell with a
thump
. The contents splashed out — and landed squarely on Edward’s lap.

He yelled in surprise and leapt from the chair in one short movement.

The water spilled down his breeches and Rebecca could only stare in horror as he gasped and spluttered and tried to recover from the shock of being woken from a sleep with a jug of water to his—

“What the devil?” he shouted making a futile attempt to brush the liquid from his clothing.

“I am so very sorry,” Rebecca croaked, surprised at how coarse her voice sounded. She really could have done with that water. “It was an accident.”

“Isn’t it always?” grumbled Edward, “How did you manage to—”

He stopped suddenly and his eyes snapped up from his clothing to her face. He stared at her for a moment before dropping to the bed beside her. He reached out a shaking hand and gently caressed her cheek.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered reverently, “you are awake.” Then he crushed her body to his and buried his face in her neck.

Rebecca thought she felt dampness against her shoulder as he pulled her tighter still.

“My darling, my darling,” he whispered brokenly, “you are awake at last.”

Much as she was pleased with the embrace, Rebecca was starting to feel a little lightheaded from the lack of oxygen.

“Edward,” she croaked, “when are you going to let me go?”

“Never,” came the fierce reply.

Which was lovely in theory but in practice, quiet worrisome for her lungs.

“How nice,” was her weak answer. “Only you are cutting off my circulation and it is a little difficult to breathe.”

Edward released her immediately and settled her back against the pillows gently, as if she were a doll made of finest porcelain.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his hand once again gloriously caressing her cheek.

“Ecstatic,” she answered with a sigh.

Edward chuckled softly.

“Are you in pain?”

“My head, a little,” she answered, “and my throat is terribly dry.”

“Well I would offer you a drink,” he quipped, “but I seem to be wearing it.”

Rebecca smiled a little weakly at his joke.

“Do not move,” he instructed as he picked up the pitcher and left the room.

He returned in moments with a fresh pitcher of water and an entourage.

Caroline, the dowager and Tom all rushed into the room after Edward.

Caroline and the dowager rushed to her side, both of them wearing huge smiles and tears on their faces.

“Becca, dearest,” sniffled Caroline, “I am so glad you are awake.” She grasped Rebecca’s hand and wrist in a tight grip and Rebecca was surprised at the stab of pain. She yelped and Edward, who had reclaimed his chair while the ladies greeted Rebecca, leapt up and was by her side in a split second.

“What is it? What is wrong?” he asked, worry etched on his features.

Rebecca smiled at his obvious concern.
I
could get used to this.

“It is nothing,” she assured him, “a small pain in my wrist.” She looked down and was shocked to see a ring of purplish bruises around not only that wrist but the other too.

“From the rope,” he told her gently.

She swallowed over a sudden lump in her throat. It was as if seeing the bruises brought the whole episode back in one swoop and she began to shake violently.

“Rebecca,” the dowager leaned over her in concern.

“I am well,” Rebecca assured her as much as she could, but there were tears building at the back of her throat and to her embarrassment they began to stream down her face.

“I am sorry,” she blubbered, “this is so silly.”

“Oh no, no it is not. After everything you have been through. Everything he did,” wailed Caroline and suddenly her quiet tears turned to noisy sobs.

Edward and Tom shared a startled look and turned to the dowager to calm the girls down. But the lady had pulled both of the girls into an awkward embrace and was wailing loudest of them all.

“My poor, brave girl,” she crooned over and over.

“Good God, they’ll flood the place,” said Tom in alarm, “do something.”

“Me? I do not know what to do. You are better with crying women. You do something,” retorted Edward.

They both looked back to the snivelling females as if hoping that the tears would have miraculously stopped. But on they went.

Eventually Edward tired of having to wait to speak to Rebecca about all of the things he wanted to say so he gently prised his mother away from her and pushed her toward the door.

“Tom,” he said pointedly, “be so kind as to ask the lady of the house to prepare some sweet tea for Mother. I believe she is in shock.”

Tom nodded and held the door open for the weeping woman.

Now
, Edward thought grimly,
the sister.

“Caroline I—”

“That is quite alright, Edward,” Caroline gulped. They’d reached a point over the last couple of days where titles and formal names seemed ridiculous. “I am sure you want some time alone with Rebecca.” She turned to Rebecca now who thankfully seemed to have stopped crying. “I will come and sit with you soon, dearest, if you are not too tired.”

Rebecca smiled and squeezed Caroline’s hand before the older girl swept from the room followed by a somewhat scared looking Tom.
What
is
it about men and their fear of crying women?
she thought distractedly.

“Are you well?” Edward approached her cautiously as if afraid she would become a crying mess again.

“Yes, I am quite well now, thank you,” she responded. “I do not know what came over me.”

“Delayed reaction, I would imagine,” he answered gently.

He filled the cup with water and held it to her lips. She drank gratefully and thought she had never tasted anything so delicious.

He put the cup down then sat on the bed and grasped her hand, staring at her in concern.

Eventually she laughed. “Edward I am well, you do not need to watch me so closely.”

He smiled a little self-consciously and Rebecca’s heart melted at the sight. Her arrogant, proud duke looking embarrassed by his concern.

“Where are we?” she asked, wanting to know everything that had happened since that last awful moment in the woods when— she froze
. Oh God. Had George Simons
—
had he?
She could not even think it.

Edward watched in alarm as Rebecca visibly paled.

He reached out and cupped her face in both hands.

“Sweetheart, what is it? What is wrong?”

Rebecca could barely bring herself to speak the words but she had to know.

“In the woods. Mr. Simons said — he said he was g-going to—?”

“No,” Edward answered understanding at once what she meant. It tore at his heart to see the fear in her eyes. “He did not touch you, Rebecca. Not, not in that way.”

Rebecca felt almost faint with relief. It had been her biggest fear. What had he said? Nobody would want her if he had her first. Thank God he hadn’t.

“As to where we are,” Edward continued, “we are in a farmhouse not far from the lodge.”

Rebecca vaguely remembered seeing a farmhouse from the woods and wondered if it was the same one.

“The people here have been incredibly helpful and kind. As soon as we found you we brought you here. The lady of the house, a formidable farmer’s wife by the name of Mrs. Brown took care of you while her son fetched the doctor and her husband, the local magistrate. I am ashamed to say that I was not much help. To you or anyone.”

Rebecca reached out and grabbed his hand.

“You saved my life,” she said simply.

He smiled but it faded almost as soon as it appeared.

“I thought I was too late,” he said softly and his voice was raw with emotion, “I have never known fear until that morning when they told me you were gone. And when I finally found you. When I saw him and what he was trying to do. The blood on your face” —his own face turned white with fury and his eyes gleamed with remembered hatred— “I could have killed him there and then. I should have,” he spat.

“No you should not,” answered Rebecca firmly. “You are not that type of man and I would not want you to be. W-what happened to him?”

“The magistrate came and took him away. We will never see him again, that I can promise you.”

“He put up quite a fight, I warrant,” she said.

He looked, to her surprise, a little embarrassed.

“Well no. Not really,” he answered. “He was unconscious. And tied up.”

Rebecca eyed him speculatively.

“And how did he end up in that state?”

“I punched him. A lot. And then we had to tie him up in case he awoke before the magistrate arrived.”

“I did not think you a violent man,” she teased.

“When it comes to someone trying to harm you,” he answered all seriousness, “I will be the most violent man on the planet.”

Rebecca gulped at his tone and expression. She could well believe it. He was a force to be reckoned with to be sure.

He suddenly smiled again.

“Besides, you are one not so innocent yourself, my lady. You made quite an impact with that candlestick of yours.” He looked so impressed that she flushed a little with pride.

“I was not going to go down without a fight,” she answered.

He gave a bark of laughter. “Nor would I expect you to my love.”

“How came my sister to be here so soon?” she asked now, a question that had not occurred to her until now.

“We wrote as soon as we had you settled, darling. My mother and Caroline were beside themselves with worry.”

Rebecca frowned in confusion. Even if Edward had written straight away, it made no sense that they would have gotten here so quickly. Unless—

“How long have I been unconscious for?”

He took her hand and planted a soft kiss on her palm before answering. “This is the third day.”

“The third?” she asked in shock trying to sit up. “But, but how? What happened?”

“You lost consciousness in the woods and we brought you straight here, as you know. Your head” —he closed his eyes as if the memory pained him— “it was bleeding quite a lot. You remember hitting it on a rock?”