Page 16 of Taken By the Broken Duke
Her eyes focused, and she remembered the false name she had given him. His face was close to hers and concern was paintedacross his handsome features. She gazed into his blue eyes, so bright and full of emotion. As she opened her mouth to speak, a strident voice rang out from behind the Duke.
“Juliet! Unhand my niece at once, Your Grace!” Aunt Margaret shrieked.
The Duke looked back, and Juliet saw Aunt Margaret stepping into the gallery, her mask removed. She looked horrified and outraged at once. Behind her were Uncle Gilbert, Cousin Frances, and others. All staring at her bared face and that of the Duke.
Aunt Margaret’s words hit Juliet then.
She had called the Duke by his title. He had left his stag mask behind and Aunt Margaret had recognized him. With horror, Juliet realized that, for the second time, she had embroiled the Duke in scandal.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Horatio whirled at the strident voice behind him. He locked eyes with a woman he did not know. She had hair towering above her head and a beauty spot painted onto her cheek. That hair was burnished bronze. It did not take long for him to realize that she wasLady Margaret Godwin, aunt to Elisa Fothering.
For a heartbeat, he felt a surge of anger. Anger that this woman feigned outrage when he knew that she neglected her niece, even treated her poorly. Miss Fothering had not mentioned specifics but the fact that she was on the outskirts of society, despite the Godwins being gadflies of the county set, told him that she was not treated well.
But that anger faded when he saw the number of other faces, some in masks and some removing them as though for a better look. All with a clear view of the Duke of Ravenscourt crouching over the body of a helpless young woman. He heard a faint sigh, and when he turned back, saw that Miss Fothering had fainted once more.
There was no color in her face, even her lips seemed pale. Was it his imagination or did her breathing seem fluttery and weak?
“Your niece has taken ill, Lady Margaret…” he began, putting an arm underneath Miss Fothering’s legs and shoulders to lift her.
“Unhand her at once, sir!” Lady Margaret cried out. “Have you no decency! Gilbert, go to Juliet. We must make her comfortable.”
A man stepped out from behind Lady Margaret and scurried forward, casting worried glances at Horatio, who rose slowly. He had gray hair but a prodigious amount of it still. His stomach strained at the coat he wore and he was short, with broad shoulders.
“You have nothing to worry about, madam, I can assure you—”
“Your reputation says otherwise. If I were a man, I would call you out, you scoundrel!” Margaret rasped.
Lord Gilbert was stooping to lift his niece and visibly flinched at those words. He glanced up at Horatio with something of terror in his eyes, as though fearing he would be called upon to back up his wife’s challenge.
“Now then, dear…” he said in a placating tone as he picked up Miss Elisa Fothering.
It was then that the name the old dragon had used fully registered in Horatio’s consciousness.
“Whom did you say?” he demanded sharply.
Gilbert flinched again, scurrying for the shelter of his wife. She stood her ground, glaring at Horatio, hands clasped before her, knuckles white.
“I said Juliet.Juliet Semphill. My niece. Daughter of my late sister, Judith Semphill. I am not surprised that you did not even bother to learn the name of the woman you intended to ravish. Such is your reputation after all!”
Anger once again flashed hot and bright in Horatio. This woman was using inflammatory language in public. The fact that there was no truth to the accusations meant nothing in this company. The accusation was enough. Added to that, the sight that all these sheep had seen. Of Horatio over the supine body of… of Juliet!
Now, he remembered the name.
It clicked into place in his mind like part of a puzzle. The young girl who had borne witness against him. Who had lied about what she had seen and as a result destroyed his life. The words of Juliet Semphill had seen him disinherited, exiled from his home and family. From the day that his father had cast him out, Horatio had not set foot in Ravenscourt Castle, or set eyes upon his father until the old man was dead. Years in which Horatiohad learned how harsh life could be for those with nothing. When he had starved and begged.
That woman had now, so casually, wreaked havoc on his name once more. Horatio reeled. Had he been trapped? Lured into her company and the jaws of a snare designed to burn down his reputation, bury his name and that of his family?
“Why?” he whispered, no longer aware of anyone around him.
“You must still be in your cups!” Lady Margaret broke into his reverie with the force of a battering ram, “I declare that…”
“Shut up, woman!” Horatio exclaimed, his patience deserting him.
Lady Margaret’s mouth snapped shut with a click of teeth. There was an audible gasp from the gathered onlookers. Horatio felt helpless and foolish. His face colored.
Were they laughing at him behind their shocked expressions? Were the Godwins scheming to undermine him? Had all of this been an elaborate plan? For what goal?
