The Perfect Duke (25 page)

Pain radiated through Garret’s head. He rotated his mouth, making sure everything still worked, at the same time that he stepped closer and landed his punch just above his opponent’s kidneys.

A grunt escaped Russell, but he kept coming. He darted around Garret and attempted to land a blow to the side of his face.

Garret ducked, bending his knees and driving his fist upward into the man’s chin.
Crunch
. His knuckle throbbed as he drew it back for the second punch that knocked Russell off his feet.

A howl of pain filled the air, an eerie sound that seemed to bounce back upon itself in the underground tomb.

Russell half crawled, half stumbled from the circle of light cast by the lantern. It was as if he had left the ring, only in this instance Garret couldn’t see more than a shadowy shape moving in the darkness.

His enemy worked best in the shadows. Garret doubted he had given up and every nerve tingled in anticipation of . . . what?

The flash of light on steel was the only warning Garret had that the battle was no longer equal. Russell sprang at him, his jaw hanging at an odd angle and a maniacal gleam in his eye.

Only years of honing his reflexes kept the six-inch blade from slicing Garret across the middle. He leapt backward, then circled a coffin, placing it between them. The ploy worked, not only to draw Russell away from Cara, but to give Garret a moment to reassess the situation.

Russell followed. “You can’t escape.” His words were spoken slowly, as if they pained him. “Let’s finish this.”

As Garret’s eyes adjusted, he spotted a stone statue that had been placed into a niche of the wall. He grasped the figure and used it to block Russell’s attack as the man lunged around the coffin.

A light-colored something lay a few feet behind Russell. If he could force his opponent back, whatever it was might prove a distraction.

Garret doubled his attack. With each blow he forced Russell backward, though by now the weight of the statue felt more like lead than stone.
Only another foot.

All of a sudden, a black something snaked out from the pile of light-colored rags and wrapped around Russell’s ankle. Russell looked down. Garret hesitated a moment, then stepped forward and swung the statue upward connecting with Russell’s head.

His opponent flew through the air, then slammed into the wall, an unused torch sconce protruding from his chest. His mouth opened in surprise and he stared down as blood pulsed from the wound. He hung there, twitching, as the last of the life drained from his body.

The statue fell from Garret’s hands.
Cara.

He hurried to where she lay, so fragile and still before the altar. With gentle hands, he rolled her over to reveal the swelling on her forehead and the ugly bruises.

Cara’s breasts rose and fell rapidly. He kept his gaze focused on her face as he removed his fine wool coat and covered her tattered clothing. He knelt by her side and brushed the hair back from her cheek, stroking the delicate skin. If his touch didn’t rouse her, what should he do?

The bump worried him. One of his servant’s children had suffered a blow to the head and hadn’t recovered. What was the boy’s name? A slight smile tinged his lips. Cara would be incensed that he didn’t remember.

He sighed. She’d been through so much because of him. He didn’t have the right to love her, but he did.

A moan escaped from her lips. She stirred, then opened her eyes.

Relief halted the rhythmic motion of his hand. For that moment, it was just the two of them. No past, no future, to worry about.

She raised a hand to his face and traced the vertical crease in one cheek with her fingertip. “You came.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” He twined his fingers with hers, wishing he didn’t have to remind her of their situation, but they couldn’t stay here forever. “How badly are you injured? Can you stand?”

She nodded, but as he helped her sit up an expression of horror crossed her face. “
Grandmother.”
Clinging to him, she drew herself upright.

He cupped her chin. “I know. She was responsible for all this.”

“No.” Cara tried to turn away and motioned back toward Russell. “Grandmother came to help.”

She tried to take a step, but her legs buckled and Garret swept her up in his arms. She buried her face against his shirt.

“I think he might have killed her.” The muffled words were barely discernible and when she looked up, tears dampened her eyes.

“What the devil?” It wouldn’t surprise him to hear her express concern for Russell next. He carried her to where she pointed and set her with care against the wall. The pile of light-colored rags turned out to be the crumpled figure of Cara’s grandmother.

Garret left them briefly to retrieve the candle and by the time he’d returned, Cara had maneuvered the frail old woman into a sitting position.

“There, there, child.” She brushed Cara’s hands away. “I’m fine. I told you Mr. Russell wouldn’t hurt us.”

Garret knelt by the older woman and, to his surprise, she turned to stare straight at him. Her eyes reflected confusion rather than pain.

She drew her brows together. “Stephen?” The old woman’s reedy voice held a mixture of hope and hatred that shook Garret.
She thinks I’m Grandfather.
Should he tell her the truth?

A red stain spread along the collar of her nightgown and matted parts of her long white hair. She’d already lost so much blood. It was unlikely she’d last much longer.

“You made me to do it, Stephen. You should never have left.”

She extended her hand and Garret forced himself to take the black-gloved fingers.

Her eyes clouded with anger and she clenched his hand. “I loved you. I never wanted to hurt them. It was your fault.”

“Hurt who?” Garret felt guilty at what his grandfather had put this woman through. The old duke had considered it his right to play with other people’s lives.

She shook her head. “Your grandsons, of course. Edward and Garret. I never meant for Edward to die.”

Blackness enveloped Garret and when she released his hand it fell to his side. Emotions battered him, but disbelief surfaced, steadying him. She didn’t know what she was saying. It wasn’t true.

She smiled at him. A sweet, gentle smile. “I couldn’t know the boys would take the boat. I frayed the rope so
you’d
die.” She sighed and her voice grew weaker. “But even in that, you disappointed me.”

Cara’s startled gaze bored into him, but he didn’t know how to react. He’d spent so long blaming himself that realizing the truth felt like cutting off an arm or a leg. A question repeated like a litany in his brain.

What have I done?

Echoes of hurried footsteps and excited voices from above gave him something else to focus on. Morgan, Bradford, and Cara’s mother descended on them, forcing light and sound into the dreary hollow tomb.

Garret glanced at Cara. A tear slid down her cheek, the moist path glistening in the firelight. He followed her gaze. The old woman had closed her eyes. A soft smile played around her lips, as her last breath rattled in her lungs.

“Lady Pemberton?” Cara’s mother’s shocked voice echoed the astonishment on Bradford and Morgan’s face as they gazed at the dead woman on the floor and Russell’s body dangling only a few feet away on the sconce. Cara’s mother rushed to her daughter’s side and tucked the coat tighter about Cara, then helped her to stand.

“I see you found your governess.” Bradford raised his eyebrows and turned to Morgan. “And I believe you can stop searching for Mr. Russell. Kendal appears to have located him for you.”

“He did that.” Morgan gave Garret an assessing look. “I think perhaps Lady Cara and Kendal should be seeing a doctor.”

“I’m fine.” Garret locked gazes with Cara. He couldn’t read her expression. Anger welled up in him. What did he expect her to feel? Pity? Hatred? “I think perhaps you should get Lady Caroline up to the house.” It took what reserve of energy he had left to say those words without emotion. Once Cara entered the Pemberton’s home, they would make sure that she never saw him again.

He refused to acknowledge Cara as her mother and Morgan escorted her from the tomb and out of his life. It was for the best. How could she ever forgive what he’d done to her? He couldn’t bear to see the condemnation in her eyes.

His quest for perfection had destroyed anything he’d ever cared for. With great effort he staggered up the stairs, each step punctuating the accusation in his head.

He’d spend the rest of his life trying to find a way to live with what he’d done.

Belle whipped her steed down the castle road, panic pounding with every beat of the horse’s hooves. She flung herself from the saddle and rushed up the stairs. Her voice echoed off the marble walls of the castle. No reply. Was she too late? She ran into the garden and found Beast, nearly lost to the world. But she hugged him tightly, refusing to let go until he returned to her.

Cara watched as yet
another
Pemberton maid hurried into the bedroom. An exasperated breath escaped her before she realized what she was about. She didn’t mean to be rude, but why wouldn’t anyone believe her when she told them she was perfectly fine, at least in body?

The newcomer, a young woman, put her back to the door with her palms flat against the polished wood surface and appeared to be listening for something. At any other time, Cara’s curiosity would have been stirred, but as of late she found it hard to care about anything. At least her visitor didn’t have a tray of food or a family member in tow.

“Cara.” The woman removed the cap that had shadowed her face. “You have to come with me. Now.”

At the mention of her name, Cara took a closer look at the servant. Everyone around here called her Caroline and she seemed . . . “Lady Mallory?”

“Shhh. They might hear.”

Cara crossed to her friend, hope finally escaping from the corner of her heart where she’d shoved it as the days passed and Garret made no attempt to see her. “What are you doing here, dressed like
that
?”

“They wouldn’t let me see you.”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“Your family.”

“Why not?” Cara repressed a smile. Garret’s sister seemed to have a flare for the dramatic.

Mallory shook her head and gave a slight shrug. “I’m a Kendal.”

“But that’s no reason . . .” Understanding washed over her. It all made sense. Her mother’s comments and her brother’s desire to break the betrothal had nothing to do with what was
best
for her. They wanted to keep her away from a Kendal. “So, Garret
has
tried to see me?” She felt like dancing around the room. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her.

Mallory refused to meet her gaze, picking at her cap’s ruffled edge. “Well, actually, no, he hasn’t.” She took a step closer. “But he has been checking on your progress with the doctor. It’s the only time he’ll come out of that glass tower he mopes around in all day.”

“Oh.” Cara’s momentary elation plummeted and she sank onto the bed, then rested her hot cheek against the cool wooden bedpost. “How silly of me. Of course the Duke of Kendal has other matters that require his attention.”

Garret’s sister rolled her eyes, then plopped down onto the bed next to her. “I don’t know which is worse. Listening to him tell me that you’re better off without him, or you trying to pretend none of this matters.”

Mallory took Cara’s shoulders and turned her so that their noses almost touched, then raised her eyebrows. “I’ll save us both a lot of time. He’s in love with you and you’re in love with him. But if you don’t come with me now, he’s leaving.”

“Has he told you he loves me?”

“Told me?” Mallory fell back on the bed. “He didn’t
have
to tell me. I know my brother, and from the moment you came into our lives he hasn’t been able to think of anything
but
you. Even now he’s thinking of you. He’s decided that if he goes away, you’ll be able to take your rightful place in the Ton without his presence to remind Society of your upbringing.” She sat up. “At least that’s the reason he gave me. But I know better. He’s running away.”

“Why?”

“He’s afraid you can’t forgive him and he’s too proud to have his mistakes thrown in his face.”

She’d never do that. Granted, he had used questionable means to acquire her presence at Belcraven, but never once had she doubted his intent was honorable.

“But he saved me.” She put her hand to her neck, the slight tenderness reminding her of what might have been had Garret not arrived. A shiver passed through her and her stomach churned as she remembered the feel of Russell’s hands on her body.

Mallory’s mouth became a straight line as her gaze rested on Cara’s neck. “Yes, he did. And now it’s your turn to save him.”

“But, I don’t know what to say to him.”

Mallory stood and pulled Cara to her feet. “You’ll think of something.” She grabbed the cap off the bed, tugged it over her curls, and positioned it to shade her eyes. “Meet me at the entrance to the boxwood maze in twenty minutes. I have a carriage waiting.” She paused. “And try not to be seen. I don’t know if your brother would have you physically restrained, but it’s best not to take the chance.” She slipped out the door before Cara could ask any more questions.

Did she dare go to Garret? What if he truly didn’t want to see her? He was a duke and she was a . . . she didn’t know anymore. Her life had changed so dramatically.

Only one thing was certain, her Prince Charming wasn’t coming to her and if she wanted to see him again she had to storm the castle.

Garret strode down the hall, then opened the door to his bedroom. He froze in the entrance. There weren’t any trunks. He crossed the room and flung open his wardrobe. All his waistcoats and shoes were in their assigned locations. Anger buffeted him. It felt good after countless days of avoiding emotion.

What the hell was Timmons about, ignoring his command to pack with all due haste? It didn’t matter how many years they’d been together. This was unacceptable. He yanked on the bell pull, nearly taking it from its housing, then moved to the window and stood looking out onto Belcraven’s extensive gardens.

He started to run his hand over his chin, but stopped. So many years wasted. He’d thought he knew how to behave. But now. He had no idea who he was or even where he was going. One thing
was
clear.

Cara would be better off without him.

Look what he’d done to her with his arrogance. It was no wonder her brother had asked to have the betrothal papers so they could be destroyed. He yanked the contract from an inner pocket and a blue ribbon floated to the floor.

He swallowed, then bent to retrieve the faded piece of satin. Once again, he would be left with this as his reminder of Cara. He laid the contract on the nightstand and ran the soft fabric between his thumb and forefinger.

Unlike the last fourteen years, he would now be able to picture the beautiful woman she’d become and know he’d been the one to destroy what may have been. He closed his fist around the ribbon. His grandfather must be laughing in his grave at how well Garret had learned his lessons. He’d become the perfect duke. But at what cost?

Without warning, Timmons burst into the room, his wig askew and a red flush coloring his face. “I’m sorry, Your Grace. He refused to wait in the salon.”

A tall, elegantly dressed man, with a slightly haughty expression stepped around Timmons. “I was told you were leaving without concluding our business.”

“It’s fine, Timmons.” Garret waited until the butler had left before addressing his unwelcome guest. His intruder’s resemblance to Cara was amazing. “Lord Pemberton, I presume?” He almost smiled. Cara’s brother was just what he’d suspected he would be, a man used to getting his own way. His little ‘governess’ would have no better treatment at her brother’s hands, than she’d had at his.

“I’ve come to collect the contract. My sister will never have you now, so our business is at an end.”

There it was. Garret swallowed past the tightness in his chest. She’d never have him now. “Perhaps not, but I think I’ll retain the contract.”

Pemberton’s fist tightened on his walking stick. “I expected no better from a Kendal. You’re the image of your grandfather.”

“Actually, I’m not. If I were my grandfather, I’d have forced Lady Pemberton to accept my hand in marriage. Instead, I intend to hold on to the contract.” He turned, retrieved the agreement, placed the ribbon in his pocket, then schooled his features before facing Pemberton. “One day, she may find another she wishes to marry.” Despair circled around him at the thought, but he shoved it aside. “When she marries, it will be her choice, not mine—not yours.”

“Lord Pemberton.” Cara’s voice held the same tone she used to reprimand her children.

Lord Pemberton’s head snapped around at a most un-lordly pace before he collected himself and turned to face her. “Lady Cara, you shouldn’t be here.”

“Neither should you.” Her mouth became a straight line.

Pemberton clutched his cane again. “I must insist you leave. This doesn’t concern you.”

“If this doesn’t concern me, then what will?” She came into the room, stopping inches from her brother, then laid her hand on his arm. “I know how you feel about the Kendals, but I’m asking you to let me decide my own happiness.”

At her request, Pemberton’s features softened.

So, his little governess may have more of a choice than he’d thought.

“I’ll wait in the carriage.” He turned and glared at Garret. “But she’s returning home with me.” With a final huff, he left the room.

Cara faced him, her hands worrying at the skirt on her dress. Her wide, golden-brown eyes roved over him as if she were trying to commit every detail of his person to memory.

“What are you doing here?” He hadn’t meant to sound harsh, but her presence cut through him. Why couldn’t he have left before she arrived?
Damn, Timmons.
And how much had she heard of the conversation with her brother?

“I . . . Mallory told me you were leaving.”

“I am.”

“Why?”

It was a simple question. One he didn’t want to answer. “I’m going to have to speak with Mallory.”

Cara moved closer to him. “Don’t be angry with her. I’m glad she told me.” The pleading expression in her eyes changed to sadness. “Would you really have gone without saying goodbye?”

He moved to the bay windows, then turned toward her, hoping his face showed the studied indifference he was trying so hard to feel. “I thought it best.”

Her gaze dropped to the parchment crushed in his hand.

“I was about to send the betrothal contract back with your brother.” The coldness in his voice frayed the edges of his soul, but he had to send her away. “As you’ve come uninvited, you can take it with you.”

Pain marred her features, but she squared her shoulders and came to within his grasp. “No, you weren’t.” With trembling fingers she took the worn contract from his hand, opened it, and studied its contents. “My brother would prefer that I marry someone else.”

Someone else holding her, basking in her love of life. Agony tore through him. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, think of that probability.

He took a deep breath, trying to get enough air in his lungs. The bruises on her neck had faded, but the bruises to his soul would never heal.

With deliberate slowness, she set the paper on the nightstand, then moved to within a foot of where he stood. “I won’t take the contract.”

His whole body responded to her nearness and when she reached out to trace the vertical line in his cheek, his upper body ached from the restraint he used to keep his arms at his side.
Dear God, did she know what she was doing?

Her fingertip skimmed the crease, then she rested her palm against his chest. “Why?”

He stepped back, anger and humiliation coursing through him. “You saw what my grandfather did to your grandmother.”

“You aren’t your grandfather.”

“Perhaps not, but have you forgotten that I lied to you and nearly got you killed?”

She gave him a slight smile. “Papa always says that what you see depends on what you’re looking for.” Her curls bounced as she shook her head. “Do you want to know what I see when I look at you?” Her gaze grew soft. “I see a man who’s spent his whole life trying to be responsible. You’ve taken care of your siblings, allowed Rachel time with her beloved horses, and helped one of my students find her aunt, not to mention rescuing me.”

She turned away and clutched the back of a leather chair. “You lied to me, yes. But that was only to protect the Kendal name. Ultimately you brought me the thing I’ve wanted most—a family.” She faced him again. “How could I not love you?”

He expelled a long breath through his teeth. “You don’t understand. I’ve spent too many years trying to become my grandfather’s vision of a perfect duke. I don’t know if I can change now.”

Her smile warmed the coldness in his soul, chipping away at the granite that had shielded his emotions for so long.

“I don’t want you to change. In spite of the things you’ve had to do, you’ve always acted nobly. That’s what makes you a better man than your grandfather.”

“After Russell . . . after all that’s happened, I remembered my past. That day in the stable, you were very kind to a six-year-old girl.” A blush touched her cheeks as she lowered her gaze for a moment, then peered up at him through her long golden lashes. “I’ve dreamed of you since then. At least I thought it was a dream, but it turns out it was a memory.” She brushed a curl behind her ear. “I don’t know if you remember, but I gave you my hair ribbon as a favor and you asked me to wait for you.”

In that other lifetime, he’d felt entitled to happiness. “That was a long time ago.”

“You said you’d come back and marry me. You promised to be my knight. But a knight doesn’t desert his lady, no matter what task is forced upon him.” Her voice lowered to little more than a whisper. “When I gave you my favor, it seems I gave you my heart, and I’m going to hold you to your promise.”

She believed what she said. In her eyes, he was her knight.

“What if I disappoint you?”

“You might. But that simply proves you’re human.” She held out her hand. “It doesn’t mean I’ll love you any less.”

He’d faced the last fourteen years with courage. Was he going to show cowardice now? Instead of taking her hand, he reached into his pocket, then laid the blue ribbon across her palm. “I didn’t forget.” The satin draped over her fingers, creased and faded, but shining with a luster the years hadn’t been able to destroy.

Her eyes glistened with moisture. “You saved the ribbon. Even after all these years?”

“Sometimes I think that scrap of material was the only thing that kept me sane. You were everything that had once been good in my life.” He reached out and brushed her silky hair away from her temple. “You still are.”

Wonder shone on her face as she gazed at the ribbon, then back at him. She closed the distance between them very slowly, almost as if she doubted his reaction.