Page 88 of The Dark Duke's Virgin

It rang out with a loud thud.

Her father’s body went stiff. His Grace dropped the leg, and her father turned around, looked at her as if he wasn’t quite sure what happened, opened his mouth to speak… and then collapsed into the dirt in a heap.

“Nice shot…” His Grace chuckled only to then fall onto his back, this time, not moving to get back up.

“Your Grace!” Caroline dropped the revolver and ran for him. There was blood everywhere. His body was pale white and cold, covered in sweat, shaking as if he were freezing. She scooped up his head and rested it in her lap, not knowing what to do. If there was anything she could do! “Your Grace, please! No!” she wept. “You cannot die! I won’t let you die!”

He laughed softly. “What did I say about giving me commands…”

She laughed too, for it felt like she should. “Now is not the time to argue.”

“With you?” he chuckled, his eyelids closing. “It is always the time to… to… to argue…”

“Your Grace!” She slapped him on the face. “No! Please! Don’t go!”

She could not believe it. She refused to believe it. Finally, after all they had been through, they had a chance, a real chance to be together. Her father would no longer be a problem. Her secret was no longer a problem. Open and honest and willing, finally, only for this… this… for this to be how it ended.

She bowed her head and cried, holding his body close, heart breaking asunder as the world ended around her. The sun had officially set. Night had come. And as far as Caroline knew, the sun would never rise again.

And it was because she was so broken and filled with despair, because she cried the way she did, eyes closed and body rocking, that Caroline did not hear the sound of horse hooves racing down the road toward them. Dozens of them moving as fast as any horse could.

In the distance, through the darkness, if she had been looking, she might have seen George coming for them with six men in toe. But she wasn’t looking, so she did not see, so she assumed that His Grace had died in her lap, and her life was as good as over.

Love lost… now, she knew that pain.

EPILOGUE

It took Frederick a while to understand what was happening.

Pain was the first thing he recognized. He could feel it in his stomach; nothing too crippling but a dull thud that was persistent and severe enough that when he tried to shift himself, the pain increased.

Next, he noticed that he was lying down, somewhere soft and comfortable and warm. He could feel sunlight on his face and see it through his closed eyes. In the distance, there was the sound of birds singing and the ever-present noise of the wind rustling through the treetops.

Slowly, memories came back to him. The carriage found on the side of the road. He and George riding all over the countryside in search… of something. Riding his horse as fast as he could. A confrontation—yelling. Vague images of a gun… a fight… strangely, a moment of peace that followed as if he was truly happy for the first time.

The pain still throbbed in his side as he lay there, half-dreaming, not certain he wanted to wake up. That was until?—

“Is he doing any better?” a familiar voice asked. It was soft and scared—his daughter, he knew right away.

“Hard to say,” another answered. It was right by his head, a voice he would recognize anywhere for it was like a tonic being poured into his ears. “But I thought I saw him smiling a moment ago.”

“That is a good sign?” his daughter asked hopefully.

“I like to think so.” He felt a hand resting on his arm, squeezing it gently. The hand was comforting in ways that were indescribable, and Frederick considered keeping his eyes closed so that it might never move. “I will let you know if anything changes.”

“All right…” A pause in her voice, worry that he recognized, and Frederick thought to open his eyes. Only then, he heard the sound of her footsteps fading, and he decided to wait a moment longer…

Silence fell, and in that silence, Frederick came to remember everything. The secret he learned of Miss Dowding. The realization that he had misjudged her. Finding out that she had been kidnapped. Tracking her down. Saving her… before she saved him. And now, he guessed himself to be home, and the fact that she was by the side of his bed told him too that this right here was to be a happy ending.

That smile from earlier spread up his face again, for he realized that any fears he may have had about himself and Miss Dowding—as he still chose to think of her—were for nought.

“Frederick…?” Miss Dowding asked hesitantly, surely seeing his smile.

“I was hoping to sleep a little longer,” he said, eyes still closed, “but you and my daughter woke me up?—”

“Frederick!” she cried, taking his hand and squeezing it. “You’re awake! Alive! You’re alive!”

Frederick opened his eyes finally, the light burning them, forcing him to shut them again. Then, slowly, he opened them once more, turning his head to look up at where he knew Miss Dowding to be sitting. And while he knew himself to be alive, the sight of her might have had him thinking he had died and gone to heaven, for surely, only angels could be that beautiful?

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