Page 67 of His Abandoned Duchess

“It is of no matter. Call the constables and inform them that I have gone to the port to stop Isaac from absconding with my wife. They have heard of the complaint already, and your providing more information to them will paint you in a better light.”

Without another word, Richard practically leapt down from the steps that led up to the Earl’s door and rushed back to his carriage.

“To the port! Don’t stop until you see the docks!”

The tiger was quick to action, a feat that Richard was increasingly grateful for, and they were flying down the road toward the water as if possessed. For in truth, Richard was in his way. If he did not retrieve Amelia from Isaac’s dastardly clutches, then he feared a trip abroad would be in order—and were that the case, Amelia’s safety would be even less assured.

Fight, Amelia. Fight him as hard as you can.

He offered up the silent prayer, hoping that every being in the heavens above was looking over Amelia and seeing toher uninjured return. Whatever the end of this miserable day revealed, he was now sure of one thing more than ever. Leaving his wife had been the biggest mistake of his life.

And he would not repeat it.

When Richard arrived at the port the butler had directed him to, he was quick to exit the carriage and survey the area. This was a little-used location, and the business day had ended for the textile manufacturing companies in the location. There was a larger building set back from the dock itself that stood out on the horizon.

With nothing else to go on except a feeling in his gut, Richard ran toward the looming warehouse. He pushed his legs for all the speed they would give him and worked to keep his steps as quiet as possible. The vicinity here was eerily silent and empty, not a single soul in sight. Worse still, the clouds hung like a curse, obscuring his view.

“Amelia, where are you?”

Salt was thick in the air, and Richard closed in on the taller building. Still, there was another smaller one next to it. Perhaps he should start there first?

But just as he was crossing by the front entrance to the textile plant, her heard an unmistakable sound.

A scream.

Richard’s heart dropped into his feet, and he rushed forward, flinging his coat off behind him as he sprinted toward the shadowy interior. Unexpectedly, the door to the plant was cracked open, and as a gust of wind blew from behind it, it shoved the thing further open, if only slightly.

Amelia.

There on the ground, Isaac’s hand clutching her hair, his wife scrabbled to get herself free. But the Earl’s fist collided with her cheek, and she was rendered unconscious. As she went limp in his grasp, Isaac stooped to pick her up.

Instinct drove Richard forward, and he flew across the ground like a wild beast. Smashing through the door, the Duke launched himself at the Earl, taking them both down to the ground as he knocked the man away from Amelia. They tumbled in circles over each other until they came to an abrupt stop as Richard’s back collided with what he had to guess was the leg of the loom above him.

“Ugh!” The air was forced from his lungs as he hit the thick post, and Richard was only just able to get his wits as Isaac scrabbled across the floor toward his wife. “Amelia!”

The sound of his voice echoed in the dim expanse. A groan escaped her, and Amelia flickered open her eyes as Isaac lumbered straight for her. Richard put his palms to the floor to push himself up, and a sharp lash of pain stole his breath oncemore as his body hollered in protest. He’d done a number on himself tackling the Earl, and he feared for the state of his back.

“Get away!” Amelia screamed, and Richard snapped his attention to her.

She crawled backward across the dirty floor, her lovely dress soiled and torn, but she reached for something. Before Richard could process what, she appeared to grab hold of it. She threw the heavy-looking rectangular object at Isaac. Her aim was true, and the blow landed directly into Isaac’s bone box. The Earl was pitched backward like someone had tied a string to the back of his skull and yanked hard.

Crimson dripped from his forehead as Isaac righted himself. “You bloody whore!”

He charged at her again, and this time, Amelia was without a weapon. Struggling against his body’s pull to fall unconscious, Richard hauled himself up and dashed across the space toward the Earl. He had taken in his fair share of boxing matches in his day, and calling to those memories, the Duke leveled his fist at Isaac’s lower back just off to the side.

Richard hammered his attack forward, hitting the man in the kidney, if memory served. Isaac hollered, crumpling to the side of the blow. With the window open, Richard leveled another punch to Isaac’s jaw. His head jacked backward once more, and this time, he didn’t right it so quickly. The Earl’s bell had certainly been rung.

The man looked dazed, and Richard shoved him away, immediately going for Amelia and checking her over. Bruises dotted her face, and the ruffles and flounces of her gown were crumbled and torn. But she didn’t look significantly worse for wear. Though, Richard couldn’t be entirely sure of that without inspecting the rest of her.

Renewed rage boiled in his blood at the process that the Earl had savaged her, but as Richard turned to face the man, Isaac still lay on the floor, unconsciousness rapidly claiming him.

“Are you all right? I…well, of course, you’re not. But are you injured?”

Amelia looked up at Richard, dazed, with eyes seemingly having difficulty focusing. “My head is screaming. Though, I do not think it is too bad.”

“Amelia, I?—”

But Richard’s words were cut off by the sound of several more footsteps rushing in their direction. The constables he’d informed of the situation had arrived on the scene. A well of relief overflowed through the Duke. Isaac would not be able to get away with all this now, and Amelia was here. He could put his hands on her and feel her solid beneath his palms.

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