Page 14 of Duke of no Return (Wayward Dukes’ Alliance #23)
CHAPTER 14
J ohnathan stood outside the gates of Cranford’s manor with nothing but cold steel in his chest.
They had let him walk away.
That was the bargain. Frances surrendered, and he went free. No ramifications. No blood spilled. A clean break.
His hands curled into fists at his sides, jaw tight, breath shallow—every nerve in his body taut. He wore stillness like armor, but inside, the storm raged. The wind had never felt colder, the dusk never darker. Every step he had taken away from her was a lie.
He remembered her laughter at fifteen, chasing him through the orchard, her braid undone, the scent of ripening apples thick in the air and sunlight dancing through the leaves above them. Johnathan had lost that girl once. He would not lose the woman she had become.
He crouched in the darkness, hidden by a thicket of trees bordering the estate. The moon was high, veiled by clouds, and the manor house loomed ahead like a beast sleeping with one eye open.
She was in there.
And he was going to get her back.
William shifted beside him. “You are certain about this?” he whispered.
Johnathan’s hands flexed over the pistol he held low against his thigh.
“No,” he said. “But I am doing it anyway.”
William smirked faintly. “That’s the spirit I remember.”
Johnathan glanced at him. “Remind me to punch you later.”
“Please do,” William said. “I undoubtedly deserve it.”
His heart skipped a beat. “There she is.” Johnathan nodded to a second-floor window where Frances peered out at the night. Could she see him? Did she know he had come for her?
“Knowing her location in the house should make this easier,” William said. “Shall we?”
Johnathan did not hesitate.
The plan was simple. Get in. Find Frances. Get out. Marry her immediately. If Cranford tried to stop him? Then God help the reprobate for Johnathan would not lose her again.
They moved at a crouch, circling behind the stable and slipping in through the servants’ door. The back corridor was dim and narrow, lined with crates and tools, the scent of horse and dust thick in the air.
Every creak of wood or distant footstep sent Johnathan’s pulse into a fresh sprint.
They reached the second floor without incident. The guest chambers were quiet. Footmen posted at the stairwell below were distracted by dice and a bottle of brandy.
Johnathan’s hand hovered near the doorknob of the last room.
Locked.
He pressed his ear to the door, then whispered, “Frances. Open the door.”
Then again.
“It is me, Johnathan.”
The door opened a fraction, then swung wide.
She was pale, standing tall with shoulders drawn back, her breath steady despite the tension coiled beneath her skin, wrapped in a dressing gown of fine silk. Her hair was loose, and her eyes—those fierce, determined green eyes—lit up the moment she saw him.
She opened her mouth, but he pressed a finger to his lips and stepped inside.
William moved toward the landing to keep watch.
Johnathan closed the door behind them. The moment it clicked shut, Frances flew into his arms.
He held her tight, burying his face in her hair. He could feel her shaking—soft tremors, barely controlled—and the heat of her breath against his neck.
“I knew you would come,” she whispered.
“I could never stay away,” he whispered back.
She pulled away enough to look at him. “Cranford will not let me leave. He has been careful—he wants it to seem as though I am here by choice. But I am watched.”
“We will leave together. Now.”
The door opened.
“Are you looking for something, Hargate?” Cranford’s voice was smooth, like oiled velvet. His eyes cold.
Johnathan tensed, his fingers tightening around Frances’s. “Not anymore,” he said, voice hard as steel.
Cranford raised an eyebrow, as if amused. “There is nothing here for you, Your Grace.”
“Then we will be leaving,” Johnathan said, stepping forward, Frances at his side.
Cranford’s smirk deepened, but there was no joy in it. “She is not yours to take, Hargate. She made her choice. She is mine.” His gaze moved to Frances. “Once you marry me, my dear, you will learn obedience. Or you will learn consequences.”
Her grip on Johnathan’s hand tightened.
“No,” Johnathan said, his voice full of fury. “She is not. She never has been, nor will she ever be yours.”
Cranford’s eyes darkened. “You have always been a fool. Believing you could just take her from me. You think because she is stubborn and rebellious that you have earned her? She was always mine, even when you played at being the savior.”
“I was never a savior,” Johnathan said through clenched teeth. “I was a fool. But I will be damned if I let you keep her.”
Cranford’s smile vanished. “Then you will have to fight for her, Hargate. And I doubt you have the will for it.”
Johnathan’s fingers curled around the pistol in his greatcoat. His heart raced, but he moved forward anyway, each step firm, his jaw set with purpose.
He needed her.
And he would do whatever was necessary to make sure no one ever took her from him again.
“Let us pass,” Johnathan said. With a single motion, he drew his pistol and aimed it squarely at Cranford’s chest.
Cranford looked down at the gun with a mixture of amusement and disdain. “Very well, Hargate. Your insults shall not go unanswered. If it is pistols you crave, I shall indulge you.”
They stood there, locked in a battle of wills, neither one flinching.
For a moment, nothing moved.
Then, from the shadows behind them, William appeared. His gun was drawn, but he was not pointing it at either of them. He kept his distance, his eyes trained on Johnathan. “Do you require a second?”
“It would seem so,” Johnathan said, his gaze remaining on Cranford.
“Johnathan,” Frances interrupted, her gaze softening as she met his eyes.
His vision blurred. “I would pay any price for you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You are everything to me. You always have been.”
She nodded, as if she understood the depth of his words and what he must do. And this time, the silence did not divide them—it bound them, stronger than ever, like ivy growing back over stone long thought ruined.
All that mattered was the love they fought for—and the life they would build.