Page 85 of The Dark Duke's Virgin

“No arguments here,” George said, sitting low in his saddle, looking well and truly ruined from a day of riding.

Frederick strode through the door to find a near empty inn. A fire burning in a hearth in the corner. A few tables peppered about a common area. One or two patrons already well into their mugs of ale. And the innkeeper, standing to attention at the sight of Frederick striding toward him.

“M’Lord, welcome!” he cried nervously. “My name is Oliver, and this here is my inn, the Bearded Lady?—”

“I am searching for somebody,” Frederick cut him off with as much force as he could, but he was tired now, unable to muster the same amount of command he had earlier. “A man by the name of Lord Edgerton and his daughter, Miss Dunn. Although they may have been using different names.”

“Lord Edgerton?” Oliver frowned. “Miss Dunn?”

“He is roughly fifty years of age while Miss Dunn is twenty and six. She has dark blonde hair, green eyes, freckles covering her cheeks, and…” A smile touched his lips. “She might have been the most beautiful women you’ve seen in these parts in all your life.”

“Well…” Oliver chuckled. “I have seen many a beautiful woman, let me tell you that, M’Lord. As to this Miss Dunn…” He bit into his lip. “Last evening it was, there was a Lord Chester, he said his name was, checked into two rooms. Didn’t see who he was with, mind you, but I had the feeling it was a woman. Strange that hewanted two rooms, but if it was his daughter, that would make enough sense.”

Frederick’s heart leapt. “Which rooms?” He spun about as if to run for them. “Where are they?”

“Oh, they left, M’Lord. An hour ago now, it was.”

“What?”

“Took a carriage as I saw it. Headed north, I believe. I think I heard him telling someone last night over a drink that he was making for Scotland and?—”

Frederick did not wait to hear the rest. Determination returned. Hope surging. That sense that he was right, that he wasn’t too late, that he still had a chance, giving him such energy that he felt as if he could fly. And indeed, he flew through the entrance and back on the street.

“Frederick,” George started when he saw his friend charging the way he was. Again, he was standing by the two horses, holding them together by the reins. “What did he say? No— whoa!” he yelped when Frederick leapt onto his horse without pause, kicking his heels and shooting down the road as if a fire was lit under him. “Frederick!” George called. “Frederick!”

But Frederick did not slow his pace. He did not look back. He did not waste time with an explanation. Time was not somethinghe had the luxury of, for Miss Dowding was still in danger. Although not for much longer, if he could help it.

And with how he was feeling, the way his heart beat and his chest exploded, Frederick knew that he would die before letting anything happen to her. Now, if that wasn’t love, he didn’t know what was.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

There was nothing that Caroline could do. Sitting in the back of the carriage, listening as it rattled its way slowly down the road—toward her doom, it sounded like—she was beginning to accept the inevitable defeat in ways that she hadn’t been able to until this moment.

For a while there, as she waited in her room for her father to come and collect her, she had tried to work up the bravery that she knew she would need to try another escape. Once he led her outside and to the carriage, she was going to run and scream for help. Surely, a concerned citizen might step in and help her. Only, when her father opened the door, he put a stop to that notion.

“And if you try anything…” He reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a small revolver and showed it to her. “… you might consider what I am willing to do.”

And that was the death of the fight left in her.

All Caroline was able to think about now was how she might have done things differently if she had a second chance. Certainly, she would have told His Grace the truth. She might have told him, too, that she loved him as she knew he loved her. She would have put herself at his mercy, rather than her father’s. She would have taken that chance, for it did not feel like a chance at all.

It was painful to think on these things, for there was really no point. It brought her nothing but sorrow which for the rest of her life would be a thin blanket to keep her warm from the misery that her life was sure to be.

Outside, through the window, she watched as the sun slowly sank beneath the horizon. The sky was cast in deep purples and dark reds, as if the sun was bleeding into the earth. It felt apt, she thought, for it was how her heart felt inside her chest…

And as she looked outside, as she lamented, she thought that she heard something in the distance. The sound of horse hooves racing along the dirt road. She laughed bitterly, not letting herself succumb to such fancies. No one was coming to save her, so why even bother imagining…

The sound of the horse hooves grew in intensity. So loud now that she could not ignore them. Her brow furrowed as she listened… she dared to lean out the window and look back down the road. Off in the distance but coming closer, she spied a rider. Too far away to make out who it was, the way he rode, it looked as if he was being chased by a demon.

Her heart leapt. She quietened it. She dared not dream…

But he came closer and closer, and that was when she saw him. It was His Grace!

“Frederick!” she cried without thought.

He rode up on the carriage, veering off the road and riding around it so that he was out in front. A second or two passed, her heart caught in her throat and then?—

“Whoa!” she heard her father cry out as the carriage came to a sudden stop. “What is the meaning of this—off the road, now! Do you have any idea who I am!”

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