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.
Hidden 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.”
Landborough stepped forward, his eyes dark with rage. “Whatever punishment you receive, I will never think it sufficient. You ought to hang for your transgressions.”
“And I probably would have had you not wished to avoid scandal. But if there was one thing that I knew I could count on, it was that you wouldn’t want anyone to discover what really happened at your home that day.”
“Be silent, Grover,” the magistrate warned, “or I might be tempted to leave you here alone for a few minutes with only Landborough and Neville to keep you company.”
Daniel glanced toward Landborough, impressed by the man’s ability to restrain himself. Daniel didn’t know exactly what had happened to the duke’s sister, but from what little Grover had said, it was clearly worse than what he’d done to Rebecca. Jaw clenched, Daniel watched as the constable and runners led Grover away. “Thank you,” he told the magistrate. “I trust you’ll see to it that he never troubles us again?”
“You can count on it,” the magistrate said. He then bid everyone a good night and disappeared after the others.
“I owe you a debt of gratitude as well,” Daniel told Landborough.
“Likewise,” the duke said. “I can finally rest easy knowing that he will not go unpunished. You’re a good man, Neville. The ton is wrong about you, and I for one am proud to call you a friend.”
“You do me great honor, Your Grace. Perhaps you and your wife would like to dine at Avern House tomorrow evening?”
“Only if you promise to call me Landborough instead of Your Grace.”
Daniel grinned. “I believe I can manage that,” he said.
“You did well, Daniel,” his uncle said as he slapped him on the shoulder a few minutes later, “and by this time next week, word will have it that you’re a hero for uncovering a cold-blooded killer in our midst. Just leave it to me, and I’ll make sure of it.”
“Thank you,” Daniel said, not so much for his own sake but for Rebecca’s. He wanted her to be welcomed into Society, and with a little help from those around them, he believed that this would happen sooner than he or Rebecca had expected a week ago.
“No need,” his uncle said. “You deserve everyone’s respect for what you’ve achieved. The way in which you’ve managed to reform in so little time is truly remarkable.”
“As far as I recall, you gave me little choice.”
His uncle grinned. “No, I suppose not, though I must admit that I wasn’t convinced you’d manage to prove yourself worthy of the Wolvington title. I have never been happier to have been proven wrong.”
It was a simple declaration, but it was one that went straight to Daniel’s heart. “Rebecca and I are going to try to publish a book together,” he said as they strolled back to the awaiting Wolvington carriage. “Lord Winston—Kingsborough’s brother—owns a publishing house. I plan to speak with him to see if we can work something out.”