Dusk With a Dangerous Duke (24 page)

And Hunter would find a way to punish her for such mischief. Grace cleared her throat and strived for as much dignity as she could muster as she sat dressed in her chemise and wrapped like a cocooned caterpillar in the bed linens.

“Uncle, I do not know who was whispering in your ear, but they filled your head with lies. I willingly married the Duke of Huntsley.”

Strangham’s shoulders sagged at her announcement, but his expression was filled with impotent fury as he glared at her. “With all of this excitement, perhaps it has slipped you mind, dear niece. You caused quite a stir when you arrived in London. The
ton
was agog when it was rumored that you sought to marry someone other than Huntsley.”

Well, he had a point. After Hunter’s neglect, she had thought any gentleman would suffice. Grace shrugged. “I was annoyed with Hunter. It was petty, but I sought to make him jealous.”

“You succeeded,” muttered Hunter.

Her uncle gave her a look of disbelief. “The man neglected you for years … betrayed you with countless women.”

Hunter stirred from his rigid stance. “You go too far, Strangham.”

Grace could not conceal her wince. She felt sick inside, knowing her uncle was not embellishing the truth.

“I think His Grace has said enough,” Dare said, preparing to drag her uncle bodily from the inn in order to spare him from the pummeling Hunter was preparing to deliver.

“My lords, please,” the innkeeper pleaded, franticly gesturing for all of them to remain civil in his establishment. “We have established that the Duke of Huntsley did not kidnap his intended, and the marriage is valid. My apologies for disturbing you and your duchess, Your Grace.” He inclined his head in Grace’s direction. “Madam.”

Hunter clapped his hand onto the innkeeper’s shoulder. His benevolent smile was not fooling anyone. “Quite understandable, Hopkins, what with strangers rushing into the inn in the middle of the night with wild tales of a kidnapping.”

“You are being generous, Your Grace,” the innkeeper said, his gaze shifting to the gentleman who had caused all the trouble.

“You are apologizing to
him
? What about
me
? He’s not telling you the entire story,” Strangham muttered, even though he was being escorted away by the innkeeper and his servant. Dare and Frost were close on their heels in case her uncle resisted. “Somehow they have convinced my niece to lie on their behalf.”

“There, there, Your Grace,” Hopkins said in soothing tones he reserved for agitated aristocrats. “Take heart in knowing your niece has married well, and there’s no shame to the family name.”

Her uncle sounded like he was choking on his outrage. “This isn’t finished, Huntsley!” he said through clenched teeth.

“I’ll accept your challenge any day you have the courage to issue it,” Hunter replied, raising his hand in farewell.

Frost, who was about to walk away, halted and scowled at his friend. “You might want to bandage that small wound on your hand,” he said when Strangham could no longer overhear them. “Wouldn’t want it to fester, now, would we? In fact, I’d see to that task straightaway.” His gaze drifted to Grace. His meaning was all too clear.

He was aware that Hunter had not bedded Grace.

“Your advice is duly noted,” Hunter said, inclining his head. “And Frost?”

The earl glanced at him expectantly. “Yes.”

Hunter braced his hand on the door frame, blocking the other man’s view of Grace. “If you and Dare cannot encourage Strangham to leave the inn, I would appreciate it if you could keep him from disturbing us again.”

Frost sighed. “The petite brunette I have waiting in my bed will be disappointed. Nevertheless, I can postpone my casual amusements for another night.”

“Thank you. I knew I could count on you.”

With a wave of farewell, Hunter shut the door. He leaned against it and crossed his arms.

“As amusing as that was, this was not how I intended to spend my wedding night.”

Chapter Twenty-four

Hunter stuck his head in the doorway. “The horses and coach are waiting. Are you ready to leave this hospitable inn?”

It had been a long night, and she did not have the fortitude to poke the beast. “Yes, of course.” Grace bent down and checked the position of her bonnet in the small mirror the innkeeper’s wife had provided. Satisfied, she tied her ribbons and picked up the small satchel that had been left behind at her request.

Regan had gone to the trouble of packing a few items she thought Grace would require for her wedding journey. It was a sweet gesture, and one she could appreciate even if the outing had begun with trickery. She did not blame the young marchioness, who was eager to return to her infant son, for her part in Grace’s kidnapping.

She blamed Hunter.

The man had been determined to have his way, and was ruthless and cunning enough to claim what and whom he wanted.

“Carrying your own bags?” Frost said, coming up from behind her. “This will not do.”

She surrendered the small satchel, understanding that Hunter was not the only one who believed everyone should bow to his dictates. It was something all seven Lords of Vice had in common.

“Did you get any sleep?” she asked, stifling a yawn.

“Enough. I can always sleep in the coach if the night catches up with me.” Frost had recently bathed and looked quite alert for a gentleman who had stayed up all night.

It was then that she realized his sudden appearance was no accident. He had been waiting for her to emerge from the room she had shared with Hunter.

“What about you, Duchess? Did you get some rest?”

Grace glanced at him, wondering if he was inquiring about the details of her wedding night with Hunter. There was nothing in his expression to suggest that his question was unseemly so she answered him truthfully.

“I am unused to sleeping in an inn. The sounds beyond the door kept disturbing my sleep. There were times when I thought my uncle had returned.”

She had not been the only one who had not slept well. Hunter had heard those same noises. On each occasion, the arm he had draped across her waist tensed as he listened keenly for any sign of trouble.

“With the exception of the coachman, it appears our journey home will be a peaceful one,” he said a little too cheerfully.

So she had been a little upset on the way to Gretna Green. Was it her fault that she had been drugged and kidnapped by Hunter? Blistering his ears with her displeasure had been the least he deserved.

“I would not place a wager on that prediction,” she replied sweetly as they walked across the yard toward their coach. “I may have married Hunter, but time will tell if our union is a reward or a punishment.”

Frost chuckled. “Darling, if I could have stolen you away from Hunter I would have. You remind me so much of another lady I worship.”

“Ignore my brother, Grace,” Regan said, poking her head in the doorway. She and Dare had already settled into their seats. “Frost worships no one but himself.”

“You wound me, sister. I love easily.”

“Too easily,” Dare concurred. “Just ask the brunette who emerged from his room this morning.”

Regan snuggled up to her husband and laid her cheek against his shoulder. “You forgot about the blonde.”

Grace looked askance at Frost.

He tried to look repentant but utterly failed at the task. “Mere shadows of the lady whom I worship as my sun.”

“Are you still trying to seduce my wife, Frost?” Hunter walked around from the back of the coach. For a man who wondered if he was being cuckolded, he seemed rather calm about it.

“If I had, there would have been no
trying
involved.” He winked at Grace. “I would have succeeded.”

Hunter came up to Grace. Neither one of them knew what to expect from the other, which made her feel awkward. Her husband slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. “Morning, Duchess.” He kissed her on the mouth, staking his claim.

Perhaps Frost’s teasing comments had goaded Hunter to make a very public declaration.

“Good morning, husband,” she murmured when he released her. She climbed into the coach before he could reach for her again.

*   *   *

It seemed as if they had been sitting in the coach for half the day when Regan had grumbled to everyone awake that they should have packed a chamber pot for the trip. Hunter got the hint. He rapped on the trapdoor and ordered the coachman to halt.

They were supposed to stop to water the horses, and the area provided enough trees for privacy.

“Walk with me, Grace,” Regan said, necessity quickening her stride.

Grace glanced back as she followed the marchioness into the copse. Hunter stood near the horses as he quietly spoke with the coachman. Frost and Dare were heading in the opposite direction. Regan was not the only one who was yielding to bodily needs.

Grace headed deeper into the thicket. Grimacing at their rustic conditions, she quickly emptied her bladder while she struggled to maintain her dignity and keep the hem of her skirt dry.

“Are you still there,” Regan called out.

“Yes.” Until she had traveled to London, she had not understood how solitary her life had been. Now she could not take a brief stroll in the woods without tripping over someone.

“What are you grinning about? Did you find an old frog to kiss?” Regan teased.

“Frost has already stolen a kiss,” Grace replied in kind, but faltered at her friend’s expression. It was easy to forget that Regan and Frost were brother and sister.

“My brother did
what
?”

“It was a jest,” she lied. Even when she blurted out the confession to Hunter that first night, he had not believed her. There was no reason to stir up trouble for the earl over a harmless flirtation. “Shall we head back?”

“One more thing before we return to the coach.” Regan sobered. “I did not have a chance to ask earlier. Are you well? It was your wedding night and I—” She grimaced. “Truth be told, I am feeling quite awkward for even asking, but I was worried about you … and Hunter, though he does not deserve it.”

Touched by the woman’s concern, Grace fought back the urge to cry. Naturally, Regan presumed the worst. “Oh, no,” she said with a watery smile. “I am fine. I lost my mother so long ago, it just occurred to me that this is something she might have asked me.”

“I doubt it,” Regan instantly replied.

Grace laughed. “You are probably correct. Still, you are considerate to inquire after my welfare.” She inhaled, wondering if she should tell her friend the truth. Too embarrassed to utter the words out loud, she beckoned Regan closer and whispered in her ear. “I am … Hunter did not.”

“Are you certain?” Regan whispered back, her eyes round with disbelief.

“Of course I am,” she replied. “I may have been sheltered, but I think I would have recognized that Hunter and I…” She was incapable of finishing the sentence.

Thankfully, Regan understood. “Well, why not? What’s wrong with the gent?”

“Nothing!” she replied, slightly offended on Hunter’s behalf. Before her uncle’s arrival, her husband had seemed quite willing to seduce her. “With the possibility of Strangham lurking about, Hunter thought more about protecting me than pleasuring himself.”

Or her.

After everyone had left, he had gotten into the bed with her and ordered her to go to sleep. At first, she had felt relief for the reprieve he had granted her. As the minutes ticked by, doubt had begun to creep into her thoughts. What if Hunter had regretted marrying her? Through no fault of her own, she came with a troubled past. Perhaps Strangham’s appearance reminded her husband of that fact.

A soft sound of distress vibrated in her throat at the thought. Hunter had misunderstood the reasons for it, but he had reached for her with the intent of soothing her. Tenderly he had curled himself around her, and wrapped his arm around her waist. His hand brushed her breast, but it must have been an accident.

“Go to sleep,” he had murmured sleepily into her ear.

Grace had been comforted by the heat of his body and the strength of his arms around her. Gradually, she had managed to drift off to sleep. Well, until the sounds of the night had disturbed their light slumber.

“Although it is quite unlike him, I believe Hunter was being considerate to your feelings,” Regan said as she mulled over what Grace had told her. “Wait until I tell Dare.”

Grace paled at the thought. She frantically shook her head. “No, you cannot tell anyone what I told you. His friends—”

“What are you two whispering about?” Hunter demanded.

Grace and Regan were so startled, they screamed. She clapped her hand over her mouth. Her friend slapped Hunter on the arm.

“Beast! You frightened us half to death,” Regan said, stalking by him with her head held high.

“Difficult female. How does Dare tolerate your surly disposition in the morning?” Hunter called after her.

“He does not make the mistake of frightening me while I’m indisposed,” was her reply.

“Did I say anything to offend her?” he asked Grace.

“I think she is still cross with you for tricking us into journeying to Gretna Green,” she said, unwilling to admit the true direction of their conversation.

“Hell and damnation!” Hunter removed his hat and slapped it against his thigh. “You and Regan may be insulted by high-handed method, but the reasons for it were sound. Strangham’s arrival is proof enough.”

Hunter was correct, though she loathed to admit it. She’d had no inkling that her uncle would pursue them. “Your Grace, I—”

Her husband hissed and reached for his shoulder. Before she could inquire after his odd reaction, he tackled her to the ground.

She gasped as she felt his full weight. “I cannot breathe, you oaf. Let me up!”

“Stay down,” he growled, as he searched what he could see of the horizon.

“What is wrong?” It was then that she noticed that his frock coat was torn at the shoulder and the fabric was wet. “Good grief, you are bleeding!”

“Stop fussing and stay still,” he commanded when she tried to inspect the damage. “Someone shot at us, and I would prefer that we do not present him with another target.”