Page 43 of Only a Duke (Ladies Who Dare #6)

F ear gripped Louisa’s heart.

Her hands covered his, pressing down hard.

She had never felt like this, never known this kind of desperate, raw terror.

Not even when she’d been abducted. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, each one harder to draw as the blood seeped through both their hands.

Each drop seemed to drag her deeper into the dread that threatened to consume her.

It was as though she were bleeding out alongside him.

You better not die tonight, Oliver Cavanagh!

“You fool!” she scolded the unconscious man. She pressed harder on his arm. “How could you not know you’ve been shot?”

She glanced over at the duchess, who had lost consciousness after Oliver snapped her wrist. At least they did not have to worry that she might run away.

Louisa had half a mind to shoot the woman for good measure.

But that would mean letting go of Oliver, and there was no way she could do that—not for anything.

The world would have to crumble before she. .. no, not even then.

“Leo,” her father said, “go wake the butler, if he hasn’t been woken already by the noise. Have him send for the doctor.”

Leo cast her a worried look but nodded, darting from the chamber. Her father stepped up to them, securing his pistol in his waistband. “Let me see.”

Louisa hesitated, not daring to move. “Are you going help him or kill him?”

Her father scowled, his voice thick with disbelief. “Do I look like a murderer, Louisa? Let me see the wound.”

She parted her lips to respond, but before she could speak, two figures burst into the chamber, pistols drawn. Louisa’s eyes widened. “Mr. Helgate?” Her gaze shifted to a cloaked figure behind him. She couldn’t catch even a hint of a face. “And Miles, I presume? What are you doing here?”

Helgate strode over to kneel at her side. “We heard a shot.” He reached out to the wound. “How bad is it?”

Louisa granted him instant access, her gaze meeting her father’s.

She had hoped to keep this part of their adventure, where she had met more dangerous characters— and stayed over at their cottage —from him.

Unfortunately, one glimpse at his frosty gaze, and she understood her father had already pieced together the bulk of it.

He must already know something of Mr. Helgate and Miles, or he wouldn’t have been angered to the point of not saying even one word.

“It’s a flesh wound,” Mr. Helgate announced, sighing.

Louisa let out a breath of relief. Thank God. “Help me move him to the bed.”

“No,” her father said, rising to his feet. He motioned to Mr. Helgate. “Take him and leave this house.”

“Papa!”

“Do not argue with me, Louisa. Or would you have me nurse a man back to health who climbed up to my daughter’s balcony?”

“He saved my life!”

“Which is why he is still alive.”

“And which is why I shall care for him. Papa, you should look after your wife—she seems in need of care as well.” She glanced at Mr. Helgate. “Please carry him to the bed. A doctor has been summoned.”

Mr. Helgate nodded, and after quickly binding the wound with a piece of cloth he’d torn from his own shirt, he brought Oliver to her bed under the cold gaze of her father.

What a nerve-wracking predicament, but Louisa could be just as stubborn as he could.

She glanced at the door, only to find the phantom, Miles, had disappeared again.

Her father sighed heavily and bent to pick up his wife, casting a warning glare at Mr. Helgate. “I’ll be back shortly.”

The moment he left, Mr. Helgate turned to Louisa with a hard face. “What happened? It’s a flesh wound, but he is out cold.”

Louisa stared at Oliver worriedly, noting the sweat forming on his brows. She curled her fingers through his. “I don’t know. He just collapsed.” She glanced at Mr. Helgate. “Will he be all right?”

“He’s sturdy, he’ll be fine. It’s your father I’m more worried about.”

“Louisa!” Leo rushed back into the room, slowing as he reached the bed. “Is your gardener going to die?”

“No, Leo,” Louisa said, her heart aching at his pinched features, and she repeated Mr. Helgate’s words, “He is sturdy, he’ll be fine. It’s our father I’m worried about more.”

“Leave Papa to me,” Leo announced bravely, yet at the same time rushed over to Mr. Helgate, clutching his jacket in a small fist. “Where is your friend?”

Mr. Helgate cast a quick look at the door. “He is not good with people, so he likes to keep to the shadows.”

Louisa’s gaze caught on the jewelry box disregarded on the floor and briefly left Oliver’s side to retrieve it. She set it aside when she caught sight of the blood coating the palms of her hands.

All this for what? A book? A ledger?

She cursed Camilla to perdition.

“What are you doing in Ashford?” she asked Mr. Helgate, desperate for something, anything , to distract herself from Oliver lying bloodied on her bed.

“We had some business here,” Mr. Helgate said. “Also, I had a feeling that the best time to take care of that business would be right after you left Brighton.”

Louisa didn’t ask any further. She’d rather not know.

A groan came from the bed. She smoothed Oliver’s furrowed brow. “Shall you stay?” she asked Helgate.

“He is not staying,” a sharp voice once more came from her father, who filled the doorway. “Neither is Mortimer.” His gaze had firmly settled on Mr. Helgate. “What I would like to know is how a man such as you is not only acquainted with my daughter, but also my son.”

Mr. Helgate curled his lip in annoyance. “I’m not in the mood to answer a question you already know the answer to.”

Louisa and Leo shared a look.

Leo lifted his chin. “I met Mr. Helgate in Brighton.”

Dear Lord, Leo! Can you say that without clutching at the man’s tailcoat?

“Brighton?” The duke’s face clouded over. “And when were you in Brighton? No, don’t answer that.” His gaze fell onto the man on the bed. “It all ties back to one man, does it not?”

“Papa.” Louisa inhaled a fortifying breath. “I know about your strife with Oliver’s family, but he is not his father. I am in love with him and shall not be apart from him.”

If his face had been stormy before, it now crackled with fury. “I forbid the match.”

Louisa crossed her arms over her chest. “I forbid you to forbid the match.”

His eyes narrowed. “I forbid you to forbid me to forbid the match.”

Louisa pinched the bridge of her nose.

Her father wouldn’t yield on this. His anger toward the Cavanaghs ran too deep. “Oliver, back then, was the person who helped me return my family, Papa.”

“What?” Her father’s face went blank. “Did he tell you that? Lies!”

“No, it’s not a lie,” Louisa maintained her stance. “I remember him. In my memories, he was always too vague to recognize, but the moment he confessed, I recalled his face—but when he was young. That is not a lie.”

“And so what if he did help you? They should never have taken you in the first place! What about everything else that family has done to us?”

“And what of you, Papa? What have you done to that family? Oliver has only ever been kind to me and Leo when he probably has every reason to resent us because of this feud. I don’t care for it either. He is not the true enemy.”

“It doesn’t matter, I still forbid the match.”

“ I give my permission,” Louisa said sharply. Firmly.

“I give my permission, too.”

Louisa’s head swung to her brother, followed by her father’s deep scowl.

Leo.

She glanced back at her father, whose face was twisted with frustration, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. He was the head of the family, his word law, but it seemed he faltered when both his children stood against him, united in their rebellion.

“I won’t change my mind,” he bit out, but said nothing more.

Well, they were at an impasse, for she wouldn’t change her mind either.

Her gaze drifted back to Oliver.

Now all you need to do is wake up.

*

Oliver opened his eyes to find himself in a soft bed surrounded by sweetness.

What had happened? Camilla had fired a shot, her aim finding his arm.

A flesh wound, he thought, nothing more.

Then blackness had taken him. Damn it. Awareness of the chamber slowly settled in.

His eyes shifted to where a soft hand held his.

“Louisa?” He grimaced at the gruffness of his voice.

“No, it’s Leo,” the youthful voice of Louisa’s brother came.

“Leo?” What happened to Louisa? Had she been hurt, too? No, then Leo would be her, not him.

“Do not look so disappointed,” the boy said, a hint of a pout in his tone. “Louisa is—”

“Here.” She suddenly breezed into the room, straight to him. The bed dipped as she settled onto the mattress. “You can go now, Leo.”

Leo let go of his hand, giving it a small pat, and spoke to his sister. “Father said since I have chosen to defy him, you and I should swap rooms and I must stand guard all night.”

“Then can you stand guard outside? I wish to discuss something with Oliver.”

“Very well,” Leo said reluctantly. “I shall return in a bit.”

Oliver’s eyes clung to Louisa, unwilling to lose sight of her, afraid if he blinked, she might disappear. There was no sign of her being injured, too. The tension in his body eased.

Her gaze returned to his with concern. “Does it hurt?”

Oliver took stock of his body. His arm stung, but other than that, he wasn’t any the worse for wear. “It’s bearable,” he muttered. “Were you worried?”

“I want to punch you for asking me that!” Her scowl brought him up short. “You had everyone worried. Even Mr. Helgate.”

Oliver furrowed his brow. He and Miles must not have left after all, and then come when they heard the shot. “Miles came as well?”

“If you are referring to the cloaked gentleman, then yes, but he slipped away after Mr. Helgate confirmed you were still alive.”

Christ. “Your father?” If Helgate and Miles heard the shot, Talbot would have, too. The fact that he was still alive and in her bed meant they had persuaded him somehow to show a wealth of leniency.