Page 13 of Cinderella's Charade With the Duke
‘Not until I get what I want. Now move!’ he commanded.
‘No,’ she replied, squaring her shoulders. The other man had almost reached them now.
‘Bloody hell. Go get her, Jay. I’ll take care of this one,’ he replied. He lunged for her, but Hattie moved quickly, evading his grasp and causing him to stumble. He cursed and the other man darted off. Hattie lifted her skirts and ran after him, making good progress. She pulled on his jacket and he whipped back an arm, which connected with her shoulder, making it sting. Not sure what else she could do to slow him down, she launched her body at him and ended up on his back. They both crashed to the ground, landing in a rather large mud puddle caused by the rain from the night before.
The man cursed at her and shoved her away just as Hattie heard men running towards them. One of the footmen tackled the other man to the ground, while the other, now splattered with mud, was easily seized. Hattie sighed in relief, her heartstill thundering in her chest as she leaned back on her arms and gathered her breath. The Duke of Wimberley rushed to her, his gaze roving over her. ‘Miss Potts? Are you hurt?’
‘No,’ she panted, out of breath from her efforts. ‘Millie?’ she spluttered, her full question implied.
‘She is fine,’ he answered. ‘You gave us a fright. It was quite a scene from inside.’ He offered his hand to help her to stand.
She paused before accepting. Covered in mud, she mustlooka sight.What must he think of me?It was not exactly what a proper governess would do, but she’d acted on instinct. Embarrassment warmed her cheeks and she reluctantly reached up her muddy hand and accepted his clean one. His grip was strong, warm and sent a shiver along her entire body.
Once she was back to standing, his gaze assessed her again before he released her hand. His gaze dropped away before he spoke again. ‘Please go inside while this is dealt with, Miss Potts. I will speak with you shortly.’
There was a tightness in his voice that set her on edge.Blast. She could only hope her behaviour hadn’t ruined her chances to stay on. She batted the thought away. She was being ridiculous. None of that mattered. The most important thing was Millie was safe.
Once Miss Potts and his daughter were inside, the Duke of Wimberley faced the intruders, who had finally ceased their struggles against the footmen who held them in check and the other men from the household who had joined them. While William wasn’t prone to rage or even a quick temper, at this moment he wanted to roar. Roar so loudly that the whole valley would hear it. How dare these men attempt to harm his daughter and Miss Potts? How dare they trespass upon his property and threaten those under his care?
While he didn’t know who they were, he knew exactly what kind of men they were and what they were doing here. He’d seen his fair share of them back in the city. London was crawling with them: reporters, gossip scribblers, private detectives. They were all the same to him. They were paid for information and ferreted around to uncover it by whatever means they could, legally or otherwise. They dug through refuse, intercepted correspondence, paid servicemen for updates and peered in windows when they could.
This pair had evidently risked trespassing as a means of getting what they wanted. William stared off in the distance as he counted down from five and exhaled, pausing to regain his composure. Millie was safe and inside now, but his pulse still raged, hammering loudly, reverberating through his body. He hadn’t felt such a rush of emotion since he’d learned of the details surrounding Cecily’s death. He shook off the memories and approached the two men held by the footmen and nearby groundskeepers. When he spied the black notepad and pencil on the ground, he frowned. Despite not knowing them by name, he knew exactly who they were now from the list of possibilities: gossip hounds.
‘Explain yourselves,’ he commanded, his voice harsh and biting.
A brief silence followed until Reggie, a man who had worked the grounds since William was a teen, twisted the arm of one of the men tighter behind his back. ‘His Grace asked you a question,’ he growled.
‘I…’ he began and then groaned as Reggie tugged his arm again.‘We…’he added, ‘are fromThe Times, Your Grace.’
‘For?’ William asked impatiently, his temper rising now that it was confirmed they were reporters. ‘What has you willing to terrify my daughter and her governess after all we have been through?’
They paused. Reggie looked as if he might turn his arm again and the older reporter spluttered out a quick answer. ‘We were informed of the arrival of a woman. That your private carriage had been sent out to Stow and returned a few days ago. We wanted to be the first to report on your new bride…and to see how she feels about settling into the shoes of your late wife and her many proclivities.’
The younger reporter shot a glance at the other and chimed in with his own accusation. ‘Word has it your daughter may not even be yours. Care to comment, Your Grace?’
That same rage from a minute ago that made him want to roar churned in his gut. He clenched his fists by his sides and reminded himself that his whole household was watching, even his daughter. Thetonwas thorough and constant in their desire for gossip. Now they were inventing brides and casting doubt on his daughter’s lineage.
‘Care to provide us details?’ the younger of the two reporters asked again.
William cursed under his breath. Then he walked slowly over to the young man, who smirked at him. William stopped in front of him, the man’s game finally becoming clearer. He wanted William to punch him. Needed him to. All to sell more papers.
Well, he wouldn’t be helping them. Not today.
‘I will not dignify your question with an answer,’ he replied, his voice dark, heavy, and menacing, ‘but I will grant you the ability to leave alive…this time. Next time you may not be so lucky.’ The man’s smirk fell.
‘Deposit them far from the property. Very far,’ William ordered. ‘Do not come back again,’ he warned the reporters. ‘Otherwise I will set the dogs on you and I will not be responsible for what happens after that.’
The trespassers were dragged away to a wagon by the groundskeepers where they were unceremoniously tossed on theback and secured by the footmen. His other driver, Fitzroy, had emerged from the stables by then and jumped up to drive them off the property.
Mr Simmons approached William’s side and they watched the wagon rumble down the long drive. While William knew such gossip hounds were relentless and without scruples, the doggedness of this duo concerned him. No one had dared encroach on the Manor before in such a fashion. He worried more might be coming, especially if such lies and gossip were floating on the wagging tongues of theton.
His belief that the fascination for him and his family had subsided briefly before the ball to celebrate his succession had been faulty. It seemed they were even more determined to write stories about him, even if they were nonsense. So much so that they risked trespassing to gain enough to weave together a fabricated tale. He sighed. The payout from the papers must be sizable for them to take such risks. This time the cost had been his daughter’s well-being as well as that of Miss Potts.
He cursed under his breath.
‘When will they leave us be?’ William asked aloud, unable to keep the weariness from his voice. No doubt these men were most likely the first to arrive for such a story, not the last.
‘I do not know,’ Simmons replied. ‘And we do not have dogs, Your Grace,’ he added. ‘Shall I get some?’
