Page 18 of The Big Bad Duke (The Shadows #9)

“ T ell me where you are really from. How did you get here? Were you trying to run away from your husband?” Gideon asked after a prolonged silence.

It was a long story—too long and rather unbelievable to someone like Gideon, who had everything handed to him since the moment he was born.

“Home,” she snorted. “I don’t remember what that looks like.”

“Where have you lived all this time, then?”

“Moving from city to city, doing other people’s dirty work.”

“And I was part of the dirty work,” he said.

“Yes,” she confirmed, although it wasn’t a question.

There was a long pause. “How many?”

Leila let out a sigh. “I don’t know what you’re asking me.”

“How many men had you lured into your trap and killed for them?”

She swallowed. “Too many to count.”

“You must be really good at your job.”

“Not really. Most men I was tasked to kill were just too easily led by a skirt—especially when I was younger.”

“How old were you when you started doing this dirty work ? When had you joined the ranks of the Brotherhood?”

Joined them. The phrase, as she understood it, implied willingly becoming a part of the group. “I hadn’t joined them,” she corrected. “I was forced.”

“The mark on the small of your back would suggest otherwise.”

“Your assumptions are wrong,” she said, though there was no fight in her words. She decided not to continue arguing; he wouldn’t believe her anyway. He’d made his own conclusions. “But I was fourteen.”

He snorted. “Is that the marriage you were talking about?”

She nodded, although she doubted he could see her in the darkness. “Yes.”

* * *

Forty-eight hours earlier…

With Leila lying across his shoulder, her feet dangling in the air and her bound hands pressing against his back as she tried to leverage herself upright, Gideon approached the front entrance of his townhouse.

Hobbes stood holding the door open, with a wide-eyed expression on his face that the usually stone-faced butler was unable to contain.

Leila continued struggling against Gideon’s grip, muffled protests escaping from behind the silk cravat he’d tied around her mouth.

Even the footmen at the bottom of the main staircase swiveled their heads to follow his progress up the stairs, barely concealing their shock.

“Call for Mrs. Hill,” he commanded one of the footmen without breaking stride. “Tell her to come to my w—to the blue chamber immediately.”

The young man’s eyes widened, but he bowed and dashed away down the corridor.

Gideon shouldered open the door to the blue chamber and stepped inside.

He dropped Leila onto the mattress, then immediately stepped back, uncertain of what to do next. She rolled slightly, trying to right herself despite her bound wrists, dark hair spilling across the embroidered pillows.

He took the silk cords from the curtains, untied the handkerchief he’d used to bind her wrists, and secured her hands to the carved bedpost with the curtain cords.

Then he patted her down, ignoring her growls of protest, and found one more blade hidden in her boot. He shoved it into his belt.

When he finished, he ran both hands through his hair and stepped back, staring at what he’d done. The woman on the bed mumbled something accusatory against the cloth covering her mouth, her dark eyes blazing with fury above the makeshift gag.

“I’m sure I deserve that,” he said quietly, his voice hollow.

A soft knock at the door announced Mrs. Hill’s arrival. The housekeeper entered with her usual brisk pace but faltered when her gaze fell upon the scene before her. Her face went pale, and for a moment, she simply stared at the bound woman on her late mistress’s bed.

“You called, Your Grace?” Her voice was even, but Gideon could hear the tremor beneath.

“Yes.” He cleared his throat, unable to meet her eyes. “Bring some clothes for our… guest. To make her comfortable.”

The housekeeper looked at him with the same expression she’d worn when he was six and had refused to eat his dinner— disappointed, concerned, and faintly maternal. It was a look that cut deeper than any rebuke.

“Mmm gehf!” came the muffled protest from the bed. Gideon couldn’t make out what she was trying to say.

“A guest?” Mrs. Hill asked, her face a grimace of horror. She attempted to school her features but failed, so she gave up and simply shook her head. “Do we expect her to stay overnight?”

“Yes.” Gideon nodded.

Mrs. Hill visibly tensed but didn’t protest. Instead, she nodded. “Very well.” Then she curtsied and left the room, Leila’s frustrated cries following after her.

“My servants are loyal,” he said, his voice hoarse. “They may not agree with my methods, but they won’t dare defy me.”

Leila growled in frustration, kicking her feet against the mattress.

Gideon moved to the window, bracing his hands against the frame as he stared out into the dark, misty night, hoping to lose himself in thought.

Instead, he saw his own reflection: tired, gray hairs populating his head, a scar on his cheek, and, over his shoulder, a woman tied to Sarah’s bed.

What have you become? The voice in his head was Sarah’s, as clear as if she stood beside him.

You swore to protect the innocents. You swore never to become like the men who destroyed our happiness.

“She’s not innocent,” he whispered to the empty air.

“Why? Because she stirred something in you that you thought was dead?”

“No. Because she saw me kill Norfolk.”

“So that excuses your actions then? The ends justify the means? You sound like the men you hate.”

He closed his eyes, Sarah’s face vanishing from his memory. He barely remembered what she looked like anymore, but he recalled her tender heart.

She would hate him if she could see him now.

What have you become?

An animal. A beast.

Gideon turned back to Leila, walked up to her, and sat on the corner of the bed as she watched him with a terrified expression.

He moved to untie the silk around her mouth. His fingers brushed her skin as he worked, and he tried to ignore how she flinched at his touch.

“I am not going to hurt you,” he assured her.

As the gag fell away, she worked her jaw for a moment before fixing him with a glare that could have melted steel. “Like you haven’t hurt poor Lord Norfolk?”

Gideon’s fingers curled into fists. “He had it coming.”

“And I don’t?”

“No.” The word came without hesitation.

Her eyes narrowed. “Is that why I am tied to your bed?”

Gideon scrubbed his face with both hands. “I just need time to figure out what to do, or to wait until your husband is ready to go home, or…” He trailed off, realizing how pathetic he sounded. He truly hadn’t thought this through. “You have nothing to worry about. I do not hurt the innocents.”

“And what did Norfolk do?”

“A lot of things.”

Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “What a great answer. I no longer fear for my safety.”

Despite everything, he almost laughed. He admired her spirit, even when faced with the monster.

“He was part of the nefarious society that killed my family,” he said honestly.

He had nothing to lose; he might as well tell her the truth.

“And many other families. He committed numerous other atrocious acts that you don’t need to hear about. ”

“Why would I believe you?”

“Why would I lie to you? I have nothing to gain. You are at my mercy.”

“For now,” she replied sharply. “Do you think I will disappear and no one will notice? People will be looking for me.”

“Not here.”

She hesitated. “It will be an international scandal when people realize I am gone. It might lead to a war.” She didn’t sound entirely convinced.

“No one will believe you.”

She let out a frustrated breath. “Well then, let me go.”

A pause. “I can’t.”

But she wasn’t wrong. How long could he keep her here before questions were raised? How long before her husband grew worried enough to involve the authorities?

He needed to take matters into his own hands… Perhaps if he talked to her husband, told him she was sick. Or if he could somehow convince him to leave London immediately with his wife.

A part of him ached at the thought of losing her.

He shook his head. What made him think that after this night she would ever look at him favorably?

“I need to prepare my horse.” He stood abruptly.

She blinked in surprise. “You’re leaving me here?”

“My servants will see to your needs.” He moved quickly toward the door. “Mrs. Hill will bring you fresh clothes, food, whatever you require.”

“Where are you going?”

He paused with his hand on the doorknob. “To check on your husband’s health.”

“No! Wait!” Her voice trailed behind him as he stalked away.

He had a few things he needed to accomplish tonight. Distracted by Leila, he’d almost forgotten his more important mission. He needed to ransack Norfolk’s home and find any and all documents pertaining to the Brotherhood.

If Norfolk was indeed the leader of the Brotherhood—which he adamantly denied before Gideon stuck a knife in his gut—he surely had all the proof in his home.

Gideon wondered if his family had found his corpse in the garden yet. He also wondered if they would be happy to discover their patriarch dead.

He had not been the best of fathers, at least from what Gideon had seen until recently.

But perhaps they loved him nonetheless.

He almost felt sorry for them. Almost .

After all, they were innocents in this. But so was Sarah. And so were their daughters.

Gideon’s heart pounded against his ribs as he rushed to the stables.

Quickly saddling his horse, he galloped toward Norfolk’s estate.

He slowed his mount several houses away from the imposing manor, tying the reins to a low-hanging branch in the shadows of an oak tree.

Crouching low, he circled the building, studying the grounds. Two footmen were stationed at the front entrance, their postures lazy but alert enough. Another patrol was making rounds near the garden.

Norfolk was indeed very worried for his safety.

Not worried enough.

Gideon slipped through the shadows to the servants’ entrance on the east side.