Page 30 of Only a Duke (Ladies Who Dare #6)

I promise.

Hadn’t that young man whispered the same thing?

“I do not make promises lightly,” Oliver went on. “I’ve only made one other promise before in my life. This is the second. I will not fail him. Or you.”

*

Rage gripped him in a tight vise.

Anger coursed through his blood, sank deep into his bones, and lit multiple sparks there.

He dragged his free hand through his hair to calm himself while keeping the other on Louisa.

Of course she would not be taking this well, given her history.

Worse still, her brother was the same age she’d been when she was kidnapped all those years ago.

And those bloody brothers had just dredged up whatever horrible memories that still clung to her mind.

He wanted to throttle Maxen Fury.

But rage would not help him, Louisa, or Leo in this situation. It would just cause him to make mistakes. He gently rubbed Louisa’s back in comfort, not sure if he was doing it right, but she wasn’t pushing him away.

“Get in,” Oliver said to Helgate. “We’re heading back to Brighton.”

Helgate nodded and quickly secured the reigns of his horse to the carriage, instructing the driver, “There’s a crossroads up ahead where you can turn around.

” He entered the carriage and shut the door, his gaze flicking between Oliver and Louisa.

“My apologies that I must bring you this wretched news.”

“What’s done is done.” They could not have known the Furys would retaliate in such a swift way. “I underestimated them.”

“They bloody underestimated us!” Helgate spit out. “They have just carved out a spot at the top of my black books.”

Beside him, Lady Louisa inhaled deeply and straightened, a cool mask of calm settling on her features.

“Are you all right?” Oliver asked even while knowing she was absolutely not.

The best he could do for her now was to treat her as though she were and as though they had everything under control. He reluctantly pulled his arm back.

She nodded. “They must be the first scoundrels I’ve met who are unafraid of your ducal title. And my father’s, for that matter.”

“It could be because their half-brother is the current Duke of Crane,” Helgate suggested.

No, it was more than that. “Or they know they are untouchable.”

“No one is untouchable,” Helgate growled. “Have they not considered our retaliation? My retaliation for taking a boy from my care? They will learn I hold grudges for a lifetime. It makes me happy.”

“No, it’s not just that,” Louisa said. “Our situation is unique. They must know that the two ducal families are enemies and that we have much to lose by exposing”—she motioned between her and Oliver—“our alliance.”

“So what? You shall get a scolding from your father,” Helgate said. “That is hardly enough to make them think they could kidnap a young boy with impunity.”

“Louisa is right,” Oliver said. The Fury brothers knew he and Talbot weren’t on good terms. Reaper Fury had even commented on it back in the Havendish stables. But they wouldn’t trouble themselves with simply carrying tales to Talbot. Their style was more blunt.

But even so, they would know—or at least have guessed—that Oliver wouldn’t want Talbot to find out about their bond, alliance—call it what you will—they had formed, that they had leverage on that front.

And they should have also estimated that he wouldn’t allow anything to happen to that boy while he was under Oliver’s protection.

And they were right.

The boy’s kidnapping was an invitation.

A vicious one.

He could call their bluff, but he’d rather not underestimate them again.

If they did inform Talbot in some equally vicious way, Talbot would most assuredly retaliate.

Against them. Against him. Talbot would certainly reveal the details to Louisa about her kidnapping in an attempt to break the every and all connection between them, and would probably, if he were smart, lump him in with the likes of the Furys to help seal it.

He cursed.

She would turn against him. Hate him.

Oliver didn’t want that.

God, he didn’t want that at all.

“We have more at stake than they do,” Oliver finished.

“So, they’ve got us by the jugular?” Helgate said with a deep scowl.

“No, we still have the ledger.”

“They must want it badly,” Louisa murmured. “We haven’t even had time to copy its pages.”

“Oh, I copied it last night,” Helgate announced, his brows smoothing to make way for a grin.

“You did?” Louisa exclaimed. “When? How?”

Oliver arched a brow at his friend.

Helgate shrugged. “Your brother has atrocious sleeping habits, and rather than spend the night being kicked in places I’d rather not, I copied the pages. It’s rough, but it’s there.”

Some of the tension left Oliver when he glimpsed the smile Helgate’s news brought to Louisa’s face. He could hug his friend. He glanced back at Helgate. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Honestly, it slipped my mind.”

He stared at his friend blankly. It slipped his mind ? Do things with such importance as this slip people’s minds? A certain betting book and a woman in a white night rail suddenly came to mind. Very well, such things could happen, but they shouldn’t happen to a man such as Helgate.

“What?” Helgate muttered sheepishly. “You didn’t seem to worry much about the ledger, which is why it must have buried itself beneath other matters.”

“Well, they seem to be worrying about it,” Louisa said flatly. “I have half a mind to swap it out with a fake one and hand them that.”

Oliver thought about that. “As much as I adore that idea, the risk is too high.”

“A pity,” Louisa murmured.

Oliver nodded. “Unfortunately.”

“It’s rather interesting that they know about this ledger in the first place,” Helgate said, his head falling back against the seat. “The Fury network runs deep, it seems. My fingers are itching to untangle it.”

“It might not be as deep as you imagine,” Louisa said. “You weren’t there at the Havendish masked ball. They are extravagant people. I wouldn’t be surprised if they let slip about their dealings to others.”

“I agree.” Oliver thought about the octopus. “They aren’t the most subtle.”

“You mean to say the organization is ripe for the picking,” Helgate murmured thoughtfully.

Oliver nodded.

“What do you mean?” Louisa looked at him.

Oliver got caught in her vivid eyes for a moment before he answered, “Overconfidence is the number one reason criminals get caught.”

“Ah, so they believe they have become untouchable,” she murmured. “The Furys believe they are untouchable, too.”

“Hah!” Helgate barked. “A symphony to my ears.”

Oliver ignored him, and met Louisa’s gaze. “Yes, but there is an important difference between them and the organization the women run. The Furys’ confidence is steeped in calculation and caution.”

She nodded thoughtfully.

Helgate rubbed a bruise on his face. “The women’s hold on power started slipping when they started their antics in London.

Turkish trousers come to mind.” He leaned forward to grasp Louisa’s hands.

“That aside, your brother will not be harmed. Those bastards might be tough, but they are smart. Safe and well, your brother is of use to them. The moment they harm him they start a war—and they know that.”

Oliver scowled at Helgate, then at the man’s hands. “What are you doing?”

Helgate flicked a glance at him. “Comforting a lady.”

He yanked his friend’s hands away. “Well, stop it.”

“Are you telling me to stop comforting a lady? What a cold rogue you are.”

Curse Helgate. Oliver clasped one of Louisa’s hands in his. “Ladies don’t touch strangers carelessly.”

“What?” Helgate said affronted. “I am no stranger!”

“You are more a stranger than I am,” Oliver pointed out. “If the lady needs comforting, I shall comfort.”

“Enemies over strangers, I get it.”

“Have you ever comforted anything in your entire life before?” The man might appear friendly and accommodating, but Oliver knew better. Helgate was as cold and brutal as they came.

His friend grinned. “Does comforting myself count? I’ve nursed a few wounds in my life.”

“Settle. Back.”

Helgate suddenly laughed, lifting his hands in surrender. “Very well, very well. But since the lady didn’t protest, I still claim no harm was done.”

“I...” Louisa started before her voice trailed off. She cast a curious, hopeless glance at Oliver, who squeezed her fingers.

“No need to respond to him. No need to respond at all. And you can retrieve your hand from me the moment you don’t require comfort.”

“Uh, thank you, then,” she murmured, and suddenly smiled, such a warm smile that it set his heart to racing. “For the comfort.”

His body went hard as stone. And hot. It seemed as though a fire had lit at the center and now gushed out to every one of his limbs. Heat spread everywhere. He cleared his throat. “It’s a pleasure.”

Oliver cursed at his friend’s low laughter.

He wanted to send the man a warning look but also didn’t want to lock eyes. He didn’t bloody need a reminder of how strange his actions were. How out of place. He knew. But he couldn’t stomach the sight of her hands clasped in Helgate’s.

Which was deuced ridiculous.

God help him.