The Scandal in Kissing an Heir (28 page)

Chapter 27

“T
he Duke of Grover to see you, my lady,” Hawkins announced the following day. Rebecca had expected his visit and had seated herself in the parlor, still dressed in her widow’s weeds and with Laura in attendance.

The duke entered with a smug expression upon his face and executed an elegant bow. “Your beauty always astounds me,” he said as he reached for her hand and kissed it. He was carrying a bouquet of flowers, which he thrust in Laura’s direction. “Perhaps you’d be good enough to put these in some water while I keep your mistress company. There is a matter that she and I must discuss in private.”

A queasy sensation settled upon Rebecca, and she looked to Laura with concern.

“I’ll ring for Molly to take care of it, Your Grace,” Laura dutifully said. “After all, it would be the height of impropriety for me to leave you completely alone with my mistress. Why, you—”

“She is not an innocent and has no virtue to protect,” the duke ground out, his warm gaze from a moment earlier transformed into a deadly glare. “Besides, I’ve no desire for an audience when I propose. I wish to do so
privately
.”

“But I—”

“You are nothing more than a servant, and I suggest you remember your place,” he said, cutting Laura off. “Now be off with you and be sure that you close the door behind you so Lady Rebecca and I can be alone.”

“Your Grace,” Rebecca said, desperate to prevent a disastrous situation, “my maid is merely concerned about my welfare. I’ve been terribly distressed lately after everything that has happened, particularly after discovering that the miniature of me that my parents acquisitioned for my thirteenth birthday has gone missing.” She threw her hands up in the air and dropped onto the sofa, hiding her face in her hands as she started to sob.

There was a beat of silence before the duke slowly asked, “Have you no idea of where it might be?”

Raising her head, Rebecca looked back at him, bleary-eyed, and sniffled. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her as she replied, “I gave it to my husband as a wedding gift and he carried it with him wherever he went, but it was not on his person when he was brought to the morgue at the hospital. I asked the coroner myself.” She sobbed again and drew a quivering breath, hoping that she looked convincing in her grief.

“Perhaps it fell from Mr. Neville’s pocket when he got shot,” Grover muttered.

“The thought of it falling into a stranger’s hands is so distressing, Your Grace, but I suppose it is an outcome that I must accept.”

“You’ve no idea of where to look for it?” Grover asked, looking pensive.

“None at all,” Rebecca said, praying that Grover would believe her. “I was informed of my husband’s death when the coroner discovered his calling card in his pocket, confirming his identity, but when I asked where the shooting had taken place, no one could give me an answer. Apparently the men who brought his body to the morgue disappeared again before they could be questioned.”

Grover stared back at her for a second and then addressed Laura. “The flowers will wilt if you don’t put them in water quickly. Don’t argue. Just do it.” He licked his lips and looked at Rebecca. “I will comfort your mistress until you return.”

Looking hesitantly at her mistress, Laura waited for a nod of approval from Rebecca before hurrying to do the duke’s bidding, leaving the door to the parlor wide open as she left. Grover frowned, but he didn’t try to close it, seating himself at Rebecca’s side instead. He took her hand in his and turned to face her, piercing her with his stare. “It is a great pity that your miniature has gone missing, my dear, but perhaps it will surface again soon. I certainly hope so, for I would love nothing better than to carry it with me the way Neville did.”

Rebecca held her breath. It appeared her plan was working.

“I trust you’ve had no second thoughts about becoming my wife?” the duke asked bluntly.

Swallowing hard, Rebecca tried to ignore her dislike for the man and slowly shook her head. “No, Your Grace.”

A smile of pleasure slid across the duke’s lips, and he leaned toward her as he lowered his gaze to her bosom. “We will marry tomorrow then,” he murmured as he trailed his finger along the length of her arm. “I still have the special license, if you recall.”

Every fiber of her being was rebelling against his touch, yet she somehow managed to force a smile and say, “How very convenient.”

“I will inform your aunt and uncle of the development then and will ensure that your bedchamber at Grover House is made ready to receive you.” The chuckle that followed was perverse.

Rebecca stiffened at the unwelcome implication and was thinking of an excuse to distance herself from the duke when he surprised her by pressing her against the corner of the sofa and licking the side of her neck. “Your Grace!” she squealed, struggling to escape him but finding it difficult to do so. He was stronger than he appeared, and his determination to press his advances on her made him impossible for her to budge. This was exactly the sort of thing that Daniel had warned her about, but it was not an outcome she would have expected with the parlor door wide open as it was. If only Hawkins or Laura would see what was happening so they could interrupt the duke’s amorous efforts.

“I can hardly wait to undress you,” the duke was saying.

“Please release me, Your Grace. What you’re doing is unseemly,” she said as she squirmed against his embrace.

He laughed with menace and placed his palm against her breast. “I find it amusing that you’re always trying to play the part of a proper young lady who has no need for a man’s touch. You needn’t keep up the pretense for my benefit however, for I am more than happy to accommodate your every desire—indeed, I’ve fantasized about doing so since seeing you for the very first time three years ago.”

Rebecca gasped at the outrageousness of what he was saying and the troubling thought of what this awful man might have imagined doing with her. Dear God, she had to get away from him quick, but without causing suspicion. Where on earth was Laura? “Your Grace, you are being too forward. Someone might see. If you would please wait until tomorrow night when we are alone, then I will be happy to accommodate your every need.”

He leaned back and smiled with approval just as Laura returned with a look of alarm on her face. Her breath was coming fast, suggesting that she’d hurried back as quickly as possible. “I can scarcely wait,” Grover said as he rose to his feet and went to the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, there is a matter that I must attend to. I will return tomorrow morning to escort you to the church.”

As soon as he was out the door, Rebecca collapsed against the sofa, her whole body trembling with disgust. She looked at Laura, who appeared overwrought by the state her mistress was in. “I’m so sorry that you had to endure his presence alone,” Laura said. “I never should have left you with him.”

“I will survive it,” Rebecca muttered, “though I daresay another bath would be most welcome.” Rising, she crossed to the door and headed numbly toward the stairs. As much as she dreaded telling Daniel about everything that had transpired, she determined to do so as soon as he returned home. She would not keep secrets from her husband, no matter what. Hopefully by the time she told him about the duke’s advances, Grover would no longer pose a threat to either of them and the anger that Daniel was likely to feel would be alleviated a little as a result.

H
idden away in a dark doorway, Daniel leaned against his walking stick and listened for the click of footsteps that were sure to arrive at any moment. In anticipation of Grover’s arrival at Avern House, he’d snuck out through the kitchen earlier in the day and had been keeping watch on the alley ever since. He was getting tired of standing up, but he couldn’t risk moving and being seen. So he bit back the ache in his midsection and the exhaustion he felt in his bones, and remained perfectly still . . . watching and waiting.

Dusk began to fall, deepening the shadows, and a chill set in. Pulling the collar of his greatcoat up around his neck, Daniel leaned back against the door and briefly closed his eyes. He
had
to get through this, if not for his own sake, then for Rebecca’s, so they could have a chance at a happy future together. He drew a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, stiffening at the sound of a soft thud. A cane or a heavy footstep? He opened his eyes and peered out into the murky darkness, noticing nothing out of the ordinary. A foot scraping against the paving stones said otherwise, and Daniel straightened himself, careful not to make a sound that might give him away.

Leaning forward just a little, he peered around the edge of the doorway and went still as he spotted the silhouette of a slim man. He was hunched over and obviously searching for something. Daniel squinted. He had to be sure of the man’s identity before he revealed himself to him, so he waited, not even realizing until his chest began to ache that he’d been holding his breath. He exhaled and the man straightened, then turned, as if trying to work out where to look next. For the briefest second, Daniel caught a glimpse of his eyes as they glistened through the darkness.

Supporting his weight on his walking stick, Daniel stepped out of the doorway and pulled a small, oval-shaped object from his coat pocket. “Looking for this?” he asked, his voice resonating against the brick walls of the alley.

There was a beat, and then the silent sound of a man attempting to work out how to evade capture. “Who goes there?” Grover asked. The tremor in his voice betrayed the composed sense of calm he was aiming for.

“A ghost perhaps?” Daniel offered as he moved slowly toward him, step by step. “After all, I was shot
and
buried. For all intents and purposes, I am dead.”

“Not dead enough,” Grover bit out, his previous tone of uncertainty turning to anger.

Daniel chuckled. “No, I suppose you must be somewhat disappointed with that.”

They were close now, so close that Daniel could make out the features on Grover’s face, from the hawklike nose to the drawn cheeks and thin lips. “My wife was right about you, wasn’t she?” he asked, noticing how Grover’s eyes turned to slits at the mention of Rebecca. “You are dangerously obsessed with her and will stop at nothing until you make her your own. Am I right?”

“She belongs to me, Neville. I paid good money for the right to bed her. If anyone is in the wrong, it is you—you stole her from me!”

“I saved her from an existence that she had no desire to endure,” Daniel said, his own anger rising at the thought of Rebecca having to lay with this man. “And if you must know, it was she who devised this brilliant plan to have you proven guilty of attempted murder.”

“Ha! And how will you do that, Neville? I am a duke and you’re a careless, womanizing scamp. Nobody will take your word over mine.”

“Are you sure about that?” Daniel asked, enjoying the fleeting look of fear in Grover’s eyes. He held up the small, oval-shaped object again, affording Grover a good look at it. It was the miniature of Rebecca. “She told you I had this on me when I ‘died’ and that it had been lost, but she didn’t tell you where in London I was shot. You knew though, because you were the one who shot me. You knew where to look for the miniature, such a personal item belonging to the woman who haunts your every thought . . . we were certain you’d want to have it for yourself, just as much as you want to have her.”

Cold fury flashed in Grover’s eyes. “I will see you in your grave, Neville.” Moving surprisingly fast for his age, Grover made a grab for the miniature, his long fingers curling around it and snatching it out of Daniel’s grasp with a mad laugh of victory. “You won’t leave here alive, you good-for-nothing scoundrel,” he said as he stepped back and pulled a pistol from his pocket. “Not this time.”

“You’re wrong about that, Your Grace,” a deep voice said as a broad-shouldered man rounded a corner and stepped into the alley behind Grover. It was the magistrate, accompanied by a constable and two runners. “I suggest you put your weapon down and step away from Mr. Neville, or the constable here will have no choice but to fire.”

“You have two options, Your Grace,” came a voice from behind Daniel. It was Landborough, who’d closed off the other end of the alley together with Lord Wolvington, making any attempt at escape impossible. “You can either be tried by your peers, or you can flee this country, never to return. From what I hear, America is lovely this time of year. If you choose the first option however, I advise you to consider that I shall be one of the men deciding your fate.”

A crazed look came over Grover’s eyes, and Daniel took an involuntary step back as he realized the duke’s intent. He had no plan of surrendering but would take his shot and suffer the consequences, even if it meant death.
Holy hell!
Daniel had considered this outcome of course, but as he watched Grover raise his pistol with a menacing snarl on his lips, he was beginning to think that the plan might not have been as great as he’d initially thought.

He was just beginning to ready himself for the blazing pain about to tear through him once more when a loud crack ripped through the air, followed closely by a second. If he’d been shot, he felt remarkably well. Daniel blinked, the sound of gunfire still ringing in his ears as he stared back at Grover, whose snarl had now twisted into an awful grimace. Dropping his pistol so it clattered against the ground, the duke clutched at his arm. “You bloody bastards,” he said as the constable and runners came up behind him, intent on taking him away. He struggled against them only briefly before giving up, the pain in his arm where the constable had shot him an obvious ailment. “Your sister was lucky that I bothered with her at all, Landborough—willful chit that she is.”