The Duke (34 page)

She sucked in her breath and turned on the stairs. He stood in the foyer below, tall and urbane, clad in black, facing the door. His shoulders were squared with rigid hauteur, his elegant hands clasped behind his back.

“Yes?” she asked a trifle breathlessly.

He studied the door. “Tomorrow night at nine we meet with Dolph Breckinridge. I shall have some instructions for you pertaining to your role.”

“Very well,” she said faintly, chilled by his cool tone.

“Afterward you will be free to go at your earliest convenience.”

She took in his words and a little part of her died to hear them.

How could she be shocked to realize that, indeed, he wanted to be rid of her as soon as possible? She stared at his remote, brooding figure while the grand, high-ceilinged room rocked and her heart broke anew. She wanted to cry out to him, but instead tautly forced out, “I understand.”

“Good night . .. Miss Hamilton.” He stared at the marble floor while the dim candlelight gleamed on his black wavy hair.

She couldn’t answer, her voice trapped in her throat. She felt herself unraveling, but as there was nothing else to be done or said, she gathered her wits, blindly lifted her chin and proceeded with stiff, expressionless composure to her rooms.

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The next night came all too soon.

As she and Robert cantered their horses along the dusky Chalk Farm Road north toward Hampstead Heath, Bel wanted nothing more than to reel her gray gelding around and bolt back for London, knowing that her loathed, lascivious enemy, Dolph, waited in the expectation of making her his own, but she would not fail Robert. Playing her part with courage tonight—helping him avenge his beloved Lady Coldfell—was her only hope of redeeming herself in his eyes.

Then again, perhaps he despised her enough to let Dolph have her.

They swept past Adelaide Road onto Haverstock Hill. Robert looked constantly to the right, waiting to spy the cottage set back from the road.

At length he slowed his pace, signaling her to do the same. They had found it.

The full moon hung low over the stone cottage, silvering the leaves of the great elm that arched over its thatched roof. The windows were dark, the doorway steeped in shadow. Dolph’s thoroughbred grazed beside the cottage, but lifted its head and pricked up its ears as they rode up to the low stone wall.

Bel glanced nervously at Robert. His aquiline face was expressionless, remote as ever, but his dark eyes gleamed with cold treachery. He was dressed all in black and wore two loaded pistols and a sword around his lean hips.

A flicker of motion in the gloom of the doorway materialized into Dolph. “Prompt as ever, Hawkscliffe. I see you’ve brought my prize.”

Bel swallowed hard.

“Tonight she will be yours, Dolph, provided you cooperate.”

“Does she agree to this? I don’t want any tricks.”

“I do,” Bel forced out in a wavering voice.

“We’re coming in.” Robert swung down off his horse, then lifted her down from the sidesaddle. The fleeting moment of contact—feeling his arms around her waist—was misery. She wanted to hold him and beg him not to make her go in there, but she said nothing. He set her down on her feet.

She smoothed her riding habit and squared her shoulders, then they walked together through the little waist-high gate and up to the lonely cottage.

The front garden was overgrown and the thick tangle of roses that climbed the sagging trellis filled the summer night with cloying sweetness.

Dolph dropped back as Robert approached. Tall, radiating command, Robert stalked over the threshold; Bel followed him two steps behind.

Dolph leered at her like a satyr. “I’m hard for you already,” he whispered as she stepped up to the doorway.

With a gulp, she hesitated, but she knew her role. Somehow she forced herself to touch Dolph. Brushing by him, she trailed her hand across his flat stomach and cast him a languid look, drifting inside. “Come.”

She could not meet Robert’s piercing stare as she walked by him into the adjoining small parlor. Bel turned in the darkness and waited as Dolph warily followed her in.

Robert remained, as planned, in the other room.

Bel stared at Dolph, slowly easing off her snug-fitting riding coat. Dolph’s stare seemed to burn through her linen shirt as he sauntered toward her, his expression guarded. “You’ve changed.”

“Yes.”

“Ready for me at last.”

“Yes, Dolph.”

He looked like he wanted to devour her, but his eyes were full of feverish suspicion. “Why now?”

“Because I understand now that you’re the only one who really cares for me,” she said softly. In some twisted way, it was true.

“Bel,” he whispered with a pained look. “I thought you’d never understand.” Stopping inches in front of her, he stared down at her, brawny and towering. She could feel his deepening breath. Though she was scared down to the soles of her boots, she hid her fear and held her ground, biting back the protest that jumped up to the tip of her tongue when Dolph cupped her breast through her shirt.

Making no attempt to be gentle, he watched for her reaction, almost as if he wanted her to flinch. She merely stared up at him, emotionless and defiant. Smiling faintly, he squeezed hard—then harder.

Go in and tease him, Robert had ordered her earlier. Under his breath, he had added, You should be good at that.

She made Dolph’s grip on her breast loosen by reaching up and slipping her arms around his neck.

His eyes flickered with hot, quick lust. At once he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against the length of his body. Then he made a small moan and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

“Bel,” he whispered. “Oh, Bel, you’ve been so bad. Bel, I would have done anything for you, but you had to run from me, and now—” His grip around her waist tightened suddenly so hard that it forced the breath out of her lungs.

With his other hand he clutched her hair and dragged her head back.

Bel stared at him, paralyzed with fear.

“Now that you’re mine, I’m going to make sure you never get away from me again,” he whispered.

She gasped for air as he picked her up off her feet and carried her for a few swift strides. The next thing she knew, her back was slammed against the wall and Dolph was suffocating her with fast, wet, savage kisses, leaving her no chance to breathe, let alone protest. Her eyes rolled with terror as she shoved against his shoulders, to no avail. His teeth cut her lips while he used his body to bruise hers, ramming his hips between her thighs. He was roughly unbuttoning her riding habit with a deft, ready skill she had not anticipated.

Oh, my God, she thought with crystalline clarity. He is going to rape me.

Her feet couldn’t even touch the ground, but the most acute horror of all was knowing that the man she loved was in the next room.

Letting it happen.

Too damned quiet in there, Hawk thought, pacing with agitation in the kitchen.

He knew he had to give Bel enough time to work Dolph into a malleable state, but the silence in the next room sat like a knot in the pit of his stomach until he couldn’t take it anymore.

His heart pounding, Hawk stepped into the parlor and saw how Dolph had her pinned against the wall. Crimson rage such as he had never felt rushed up from the depths of him at the sight—and sickening guilt.

With a low oath, he marched over and seized Dolph’s arm roughly. “That’s enough.”

“Get out of here,” Dolph ground out.

Hawk could not bear to look at Belinda, knowing the terror he would see in her eyes. With all his will he clamped down on his wrath. “Let’s get down to business, shall we?”

“I said get the hell out of here!” Dolph roared, turning on him. He dropped Belinda. “I’ve had it with you, Hawkscliffe. What the hell do you want with me?”

Hawk pulled out his pistol and thrust it under Dolph’s chin.

Dolph froze; Hawk stared at him.

Belinda slipped free, crying, then fled. Hawk fought the impulse to go after her, help her.

“I’ll tell you what I want, Dolph. All right? Let’s quit the games.” He thrust the gun harder against Dolph’s throat. “I want to know why you killed Lucy, you son of a bitch.”

Dolph stared at him in apparent shock. “Lucy?
You think I killed Lucy?”

“All I have to do is squeeze this trigger. I suggest you start with the truth.”

“Are you mad? Lucy drowned. Everybody knows that!” He glanced down nervously at the weapon. “Put the gun down, Hawkscliffe. What’s the matter with you?”

“You drowned her. Just say it.”

“I had nothing to do with her death—”

“Admit to it. Be a man for once in your life. You killed her for fear that if she bore a child, you’d lose your inheritance.”

Dolph let out a scoffing, incredulous laugh. “And whose child do you think she would have borne if she had been breeding? Jesus, man, why would I kill her? She was my mistress.”

Hawk stared at him, feeling the very earth fall out from beneath his feet. For a long moment he couldn’t find his voice, then it came out as a snarl. “What did you say?”

“You heard me. We were bedmates, and trust me—she didn’t want a brat anymore than I did.”

Fury seized him. Hawk wrapped his fist harder around the butt of his pistol and used it to slam a brutal punch into Dolph’s eye. The baronet cursed and tripped backward over a dainty footstool and went sprawling onto the floor.

Hawk aimed the gun at him with both hands. “Tell the truth now, Dolph. Or I’ll blow your brains out, I swear to God.”

“Calm down, Hawkscliffe! Jesus! I’m trying to tell you—”

“She was not your mistress.
She was not.
She was— pure.” He was shaking with fury and some strange, terrible knowing that had begun to settle around his heart like molten metal cooling, hardening.

“Pure? Lucy? You’re jesting.”

“I am not jesting,” he whispered. “You violated her, just as you would do to Bel if I gave you the chance.”

“The hell I did. Look, mate, she was the one who seduced
me
—”

“She would never do that. She was—Lucy. She was—a virtuous woman.”

“If you think that, then you didn’t even know her—but of course, Lucy didn’t want you to know the real her, because then the mighty Hawkscliffe wouldn’t have wanted her anymore. She was playing you, Your Grace, sleeping with half the lads in Town while she angled to become your duchess. And I’ll tell you something else, you poor noble
Dupe
of Hawkscliffe,” he said with a malicious grin, “I’ll tell you how pure our sweet Lucy was—she used to get undressed in front of her bedroom window just to torment the stable boys.”

“I’ll kill you,” Hawk whispered as a bead of sweat ran down the side of his face. “You’re lying. She was
not
your mistress and I know that for certain because for months you’ve been in love with Bel.”

“Love?” he scoffed. “Since when do you have to be in love with a woman to accept an invitation to her bed? God, you’re a prude.”

He absorbed this, horrified. “She was your uncle’s wife.”

Dolph shrugged. “Yes, well, perhaps a tad perverse, but it was Lucy’s idea. I was merely obliging her.”

“You son of a bitch,
that’s a lie!”
he bellowed, cocking the gun. He was going to do it, too. Kill Breckinridge here in cold blood. His finger alighted on the trigger just as a soft, firm voice reached him.

“Robert. Don’t.”

Bel had fled earlier, but returned once she had composed herself. She had been standing in the other room long enough to hear most of it. She was there now to watch Robert’s dream of courtly love crumble. His face was harsh, streaked with moonlight, like a savage in warpaint. He tensely gripped the gun, his aim fixed on Dolph’s heart.

Bel took another step toward him. “I’m not going to let you do this, Robert.”

“What do you care about him?”

“I care about you and this is not who you are.”

“He’s a liar.”

“He is an unarmed man. Robert, please. You could hang. He’s not worth it. Besides, he could be telling the truth.”

“I
am
telling the truth,” Dolph muttered, slowly sitting up.

“Prove it,” Robert ground out.

“This cottage belonged to her. She left it to me,” Dolph said. “This is where we would meet. I think she had other liaisons here, as well, but she always insisted on complete discretion so that my uncle would never find out.”

Bel glanced at Robert. His mouth was pale, his eyes glazed. He looked like he was in shock. She turned again to Dolph. “Prove that any part of what you say is true, then we’ll take it from there.”

“I don’t know—check in that desk over there.” Dolph nodded to the left, not taking his eyes off Robert’s gun. “Maybe you can find a bit of her personal effects in there that will convince you.”