Page 60 of The Wrong Duke

“What? No —” She tried to pull her arm free, but he refused it.

“You will not see anybody,” he continued, dragging her up the stairs, the grip he had on her arm so tight that it hurt. “You will not write to anybody. You will stay there until Lord Malnor himself comes and collects you!” At the top of the stairs, he started down the hallway toward her room.

“No!” she cried and tried to pull free. “No! Please!”

“And if you try anything, if you have Bridget help you, I promise that what has happened here today will be a dream compared to what I will do to you.” At her room, he kicked the door open and threw her inside. She stumbled, falling hard onto her hands and knees. “And that’s not to mention what I will do to her. You think Lord Malnor is bad?” he laughed coldly. “My dear, you have no idea.”

“You can’t!” She half made to stand, reaching a hand out as if to try and stop him. “You can’t do that!”

“Amelia, surely you have realized by now that there is nothing I can’t do. You belong tome,” he snarled at her from the doorway, looking like a giant as he towered over her. “You and Bridget. I can do anything I want. Thank God that in this instance, you found yourself in my good graces.”

“Please!” She jumped to her feet and ran for him, but he was already out the door.

The door slammed in her face, and Amelia collapsed into it. Body shaking. Chest caving in. Heart cracking and shattering inside of her. A sense that the room was shrinking in around her, and it was all she could do to not curl into a ball and weep for mercy. But she may as well have.

It was over. Her life. All sense of hope. Any chance that she might find a way out of this. She tried to cling to the small vestibules of a chance that the Duke might save her. That he might come for her. But her father’s words rang out in her head, crushing that notion like an ant beneath a boot. He was her father. He could do as he pleased, ruin her life if he so wanted it.

And in this instance, that was exactly what he wanted and had done. All sense of hope was lost.

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

Evan ended up falling back asleep after Amelia left him. He hadn’t meant to, but he’d laid his head back down a moment, happy to close his eyes and blissfully remember the night that was, only to open them again what he thought to be a few seconds later, eventually realizing it was a solid couple of hours and mid-morning was just about on him.

Not that Evan minded. The mood he was in, there was little, if anything, that could bring him down. Even as he dressed himself in the same clothes as the night before and stubbed his toe on the corner of the dresser — pain lancing up his foot in a way that should have had him crying out — he laughed it off because life right now wasn’t worth getting upset about silly little things like that.

No need to say why his mood was so piqued. No need to ponder as he’d been doing that all morning. Even his dreams were filled with visions of Amelia, the true beauty that she was, the fiery lady who had stolen his heart, she whose heart he also held. Is this what love felt like? Is this why David obsessed over it the way he does? Evan couldn’t help but wonder what he’d been so afraid of all this time, and if he’d been missing out on anything — he clearly had. Why, if he’d known that this was how he would feel when he finally fell for someone, he might have started looking sooner!

Such as it was that when Evan crept from the room, smiling all the while, he couldn’t have possibly foreseen the other side of the coin, the reason that men like David needed protecting. Love was a wonderful thing, but it came with an inevitable dark side which could kill as quick as any knife.

“Your Grace!” Lord Wexley found Evan walking the halls. He was coming from the other direction, looking hurried. “What are you — you’re here?!”

Evan, the fool that he was, had completely forgotten that he hadn’t been invited to Lord Wexley’s residence. His mind was elsewhere, and if it wasn’t for the difference in architecture, he might have thought he was in his own home and wandered to the dining room to break his fast.

“Oh!” Evan started, suddenly very away of where he was and how he was dressed. “Lord Wexley, this is... I’m sure you’re surprised to see me.” He then tried for a chuckle.

“Surprised is perhaps an understatement.” Lord Wexley frowned and looked Evan over. “Did you sleep here last night, Your Grace?”

“I confess I did.” He turned his palms out and grimaced. “I was feeling a little under the weather, and Lord Malnor offered me his room. I hope that is all right? I would have asked you first, but I was unable to find you, and truly, I just needed somewhere to rest my head and shut my eyes. I meant to leave at first light but... to be honest, the bed was a little too comfortable. I don’t think I’ve slept that well in years.”

“It’s not a bother,” Lord Wexley assured him. “A surprise. But a perfectly agreeable one. Have you broken your fast yet? I can have the kitchen —”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Evan hurried to assure him. “I should be on my way, anyhow. A bath is what I need. Say, Lord Malnor isn’t still here, is he? I was hoping to catch him sooner rather than later.”

“Oh...” Lord Wexley’s eyes lit up. “You mustn’t have heard.”

“Heard what?”

Lord Wexley glanced about the empty hall and then hurried closer. “While you were sleeping, I’m afraid to say that Lord Malnor found himself involved in quite the scandal.”

“He did?” Evan leaned back, wondering to what the Lord was referring. “What happened?”

Again, Lord Wexley’s eyes flashed, and the delight in the man was evident. “Perhaps you’re to blame,” he chuckled. “Taking Lord Malnor’s room like that. The poor man had nowhere else to go.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t like to gossip. That’s women’s business. But seeing as you asked....” He glanced around again, licked his lips, and leaned in closer to Evan. And then, he told him what had happened.

As to Evan’s response? Apart from the way his face drained of color, the sickening sensation that rose in his stomach, the lump that formed in his throat and threatened to choke him while wishing that it would do just that? He fled, was his response. Barely managing a goodbye, he hurried from the manor and called for his carriage, directing the driver not to take him to his own home but to David’s. He needed to talk to his best friend, and something told him that his best friend might need to talk to him also.

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