Page 6 of Married to the Forbidden Duke
“Penance?”He choked the word., barely more than a breath, strangled in his throat. “What in God’s name are you…”
Then—suddenly—his hand closed around her wrist.
Before she could pull away, he was moving, dragging her through a side door she hadn’t even seen.
They stumbled into a cramped room that smelled of old paper and candle wax—a place she suspected the reverend used to change into his robes. It was crowded with books, mostly Bibles, stacked in precarious towers, and littered with forgotten pieces of holy paraphernalia.
“You—” she started again, but he released her with a rough gesture.
“Who the devil are you and what are you doing here?” he hissed.
Alice drew herself up to her full height. She had not lost her stick, but she did her best not to lean on it, her weight on her good leg. “You ought to know who I am.”
“Perhaps, but as I do not, I’d hope you’d be so good as to tell me.” His voice was icy.
Alice fell stumped. “My… my name is Alice Ravenshire. Daughter of Lord Brexton.”
“Well then,Miss Ravenshire, I hope you understand the scope of the damage you caused barging in here without an invitation. Do you know who I am?”
His eyes flashed, and she noticed for the first time what a peculiar shade of blue they were—like the sky upon its first awakening, when the dawn light brushed against the horizon, the darkness turning into the softest blue.
When they fixed on her the way they did, however, they were sharp and piercing—nothing soft about them. Her hands misted with sweat as she gripped her stick and held firm.
“I will, of course, be seeking damages.” There was a coldness to his face that she associated with grand men like him, but underneath it, she thought she sensed panic. “Do you know what you could have done?” He paced from one side of the room to the other. “What people will think?”
“What will they think?” she asked, frowning.
“That I ruined you.”
“But… but… youdidruin me.” She gritted her teeth. “You—”
“I can say with utter transparency that you and I haveneverengaged in—”
“Langford.” A man poked his head through the door. “Rushworth wishes to speak to you.” The man’s gaze flittered curiously over Alice, not even the faintest sense of recognition. Evidently, no one here knew who she was, and she was enough of a woman of the world to understand what they presumablythought. That the Duke had stolen her virtue. Perhaps even given her a child.
The disgust on his face seared itself into her soul. Obviously, the mere thought of being with her—a cripple—repulsed him.
She pressed a hand against her stomach; the rejection from this man, though she had no interest in him, cut deep.
He had no right to find her repulsive when he had put her in this state. If she was a cripple, then it was only because of his making!
“Stay here,” the Duke commanded her, then rushed out of the room. The door closed with a decisive thunk behind him.
Frederick’s mind raced as he approached the Earl of Rushworth, standing by the altar with a face of fury. This conversation would not go well.
He racked his brains to think of where he had seen Miss Ravenshire before. Her face, with its high cheekbones and large, almost almond-shaped eyes, held thebaresthint of familiarity.
He had not bedded her. He knew that much. Aside from anything, he would have recalled the limp.
Remembering it now, he regretted dragging her away the way he had done. The only thought in his mind had been to minimize the damage to his reputation—damage that had taken place anyway.
“My apologies, sir,” he said to the Earl when he reached him, bowing his head solemnly. “I have not an inkling as to who that lady is, or—”
“We knew your history when you approached me asking for my daughter’s hand.” The Earl’s chest puffed, and with a sinking feeling, Frederick already knew what the answer would be. “We decided, after looking at your behavior for the past few years, to give you a chance. I won’t lie that it would have been a boon for my daughter to be married to a Duke. A Duchess! She would have deserved that.” His beady eyes narrowed. “But she does not deserve this. Now, tell me, in which way did you wrong the girl?”
“I don’t know! I don’t know who she is.” Aside from a name, but the name meant nothing to him. He had met more nobles than he could count ever since he was a boy. Perhaps the name sparked something in his mind, but not anything as certain as a memory. “I promise you, she and I were not involved in any sort of liaison.”
Rushworth sighed, the anger in his face lessening. “If it helps, son, I believe you. I saw the look on your face when she limped toward you. The eyes never lie.” He shook his head. “But you must understand it from my perspective. Penelope is my daughter. And people will talk.”
