Page 25 of The Duke Who Stole Me (Stolen by the Duke #4)

Chapter Twenty-Five

“ W hy didn’t you want to believe it? You nearly ruined my life and went into hiding. Did you think I would stop searching for you to hear from the horse’s mouth why you canceled our engagement?”

Juliana’s hands were trembling, but her words were direct, her voice firm.

Geoffrey took a deep breath and laughed. They were in what seemed to be Lord Trenton’s study—which was an odd location for a study, in Juliana’s opinion.

“It is quite shameful, do you not agree? That you have been married for more than a month, and yet your heart pines for another,” he said.

She almost choked at his audacity.

“My heart does not pine for a man who could not do the honorable thing and keep his promises. We had been engaged for a month, yet I did not cross your mind once when you fled.”

Juliana had already come to terms with Geoffrey’s behavior, and she did not need to know his reasons for doing what he did. At some point, it had been all she cared about. But now? Not so much. However, she needed to buy enough time for Vincent and his partner.

“The constables came to the dower house to question my family about what happened to you. I was on the brink of ruination, and yet there was no word from you.”

Geoffrey clapped his hands once. “It turned out for the better, did it not? You should be grateful to me, as at the end of it all, you married a wealthy man and became a duchess. If anything, you should’ve given me your dowry as a show of your gratitude, because I am more than certain that your husband has no need for it.” He let out a vicious laugh that grated on her.

She’d never felt the urge to hurt anyone as much as she did him at that moment.

She couldn’t believe the nonchalance in his voice, how he spoke without guilt. This was the man she would’ve been bound to had he not fled, and he’d hidden this part of himself so well that she would never have guessed it even after a month of being engaged to him.

“You are despicable, Geoffrey!” she snapped.

“Not despicable, my darling, but ambitious. I had a goal, and you simply did not fit in it, so I had to let you go—as painful as it was.”

Juliana did not believe him. She’d known Geoffrey did not harbor any feelings for her, as was the same for her. They both had known their duties and agreed to the match without wanting more. A bland and platonic marriage was what he had promised her. Instead, she got a marriage full of passion and a man who could hardly keep his hands off her.

Perhaps she ought to be grateful to him for making it possible for her to marry someone her heart beat for.

Lost in thought, Juliana was not aware of her surroundings until she was spun around and felt an arm around her neck. Then, something cold and hard pressed against her head, and she heard Vincent’s voice right in front of her.

Of course, her first reaction was to smile, happy that Vincent had arrived. She tried to move and noticed that her body wouldn’t budge.

“It would be best for you to stay still, or else I will blow up this pretty head of yours.”

Geoffrey’s voice sent a chill down her spine, but the real reason she froze was the realization that a pistol was pressed against her head.

“Release my wife this instant!” Vincent boomed.

Long gone was the matching mask that covered his face as his eyes shone brightly in the dimly lit room.

“One more step forward, and I promise I’ll do it.”

Vincent should’ve known that the moment he took his eyes off his wife, she’d do something he forbade her from doing. He hadn’t met with Somerton, but the guards they’d posted outside the ballroom told him that Norfield had arrived. He’d been quick, scanning the room for a man wearing a red and yellow feathered mask, but his search turned out fruitless.

However, that had not been nearly enough to deter him. He’d gone up to Trenton’s study, knowing very well that Norfield would waste no time in seeking what he wanted. He’d expected to find him there, digging into Trenton’s archives, but what he hadn’t expected was to find his wife there, after all his warnings to her to stay away from Norfield and out of the mission in general.

His shock quickly turned into fury as he watched Norfield press a pistol to the side of her head.

He’d wanted to walk over there and shake some sense into her, ask her what business she had wandering around the mansion while knowing full well what this night meant to him.

“Put that bloody weapon down and release her!” he thundered.

Norfield laughed, which in turn ratcheted up Vincent’s anger.

“I do hope you know that if you hurt a duchess, you will never escape justice.”

The moment Vincent finished speaking, Somerton appeared beside him with a pistol in his hand, aimed at Norfield and Juliana.

“Say the word, and I’ll make sure we walk out of here with the criminal,” Somerton said coldly.

Norfield’s breathing quickened, and his eyes darted around the room, as though looking for a way to escape. But Vincent knew this was a delicate time, as a tiny mishap could cost him his only source of joy.

“Drop your weapon!” he ordered immediately, scared for the first time since he had discovered his father’s betrayal.

“I can take him, Blackmoor. You know I can take him,” Somerton said, his pistol still pointed at Norfield.

Vincent knew that Somerton was a terrific shot, but they weren’t shooting birds leisurely in a field, neither was it a duel. This was a matter of life and death for his wife, and he would be damned if he let anything happen to her right before his very eyes.

“I must say, I’m pleased you found a man who cares for you so, dear Julie. I expected you to end up with a balding man who only cares for his pleasure and nothing more. However, it is a shame that tonight might be the last time you see him, so open your eyes wide and take a good, long look at him before your solo journey down death road.” Norfield cackled.

Vincent stiffened. “I said, drop your weapon!” he shouted, his anger evident in every breath, every word.

Norfield’s laughter filled the room as Somerton debated dropping his weapon or taking the shot to render the bastard immobile.

Finally, he dropped his weapon. However, he still held it, ready to take the shot at any given time.

“You have a good dog beside you. I wish I had one just like him,” Norfield sneered.

“Watch your damned mouth, Norfield!” Somerton growled.

“And if I do not?”

Somerton opened his mouth to respond, but Vincent beat him to it.

“The danger has been eliminated. Hand my wife over, and we’ll let you go.”

Somerton’s eyes widened as he turned his head to Vincent.

“We cannot afford to do that,” he protested.

But all that was on Vincent’s mind was how to get Juliana away from Norfield. The last thing he wanted was to hold on to her lifeless body.

No, he wouldn’t do that.

“Let her go,” Vincent repeated, as though it was some sort of prayer.

“Let me go, Norfield!” Juliana blurted out.

Relief flooded through Vincent for the briefest moment. At least she was not scared of the earl.

“Norfield? I thought we were past that?” Norfield smiled down at her.

Vincent’s anger flared. “If you let her go, I’ll pretend that I did not come across you tonight.”

He knew he was saying whatever came to his mind, but he prayed it would work.

“Please listen to him and let me go. You know my family cannot survive without me. Please let me go,” Juliana pleaded.

Vincent wished she would remain quiet. He didn’t want to hear her cry or see the tears rolling down her cheeks. It would ruin him, especially if something went wrong and Norfield shot her.

“Let her go, and I’ll personally walk you out of here. Guards are surrounding this residence, and they have been ordered to shoot you the moment you flee. If you let her go, I’ll ensure you walk out of here unscathed.”

Vincent’s words seemed to heighten Norfield’s fear instead of easing it. It seemed it had never crossed his mind that the spies after him had men at their disposal, and ending him would not be as difficult as he thought it would be.

“The men outside are heavily armed, Norfield. I saw them with my own eyes,” Juliana warned.

It was a blatant lie, but it was such a critical situation that Vincent could not berate her.

“Silence! Both of you! I don’t want to hear another word from both of you!” Norfield yelled, lowering his pistol momentarily.

“Perhaps you might want to hear from me, then?” Somerton asked.

Immediately, a deafening boom tore through the walls of Trenton’s study. Vincent leaped forward instantly, his eyes wide and his heart hammering against his ribcage, threatening to burst out of him.

The sound echoed through the room, and for a dreadful moment, Vincent’s heart sank at the thought that his wife was in danger.

But when the haze cleared a little and his vision focused, he found Juliana still standing, still being held tightly by Norfield. However, the room became brighter, and he turned his head in the direction of the brightness to see that the single shot found its mark on the tender stem of a candle, shattering wax and wick alike.

The flame from the candle had leaped, licking hungrily at the open books on the desk to the velvet drapes that framed the tall windows.

“Take care of the flames, Somerton,” Vincent urged.

Somerton nodded, pistol still in hand as he moved toward the flames, threw the burned books on the floor, and stomped on them with his boots.

As though grateful for the distraction, Norfield pushed Juliana forward, aiming his pistol at Vincent, who quickly moved forward to break her fall. And then another boom split the semi-silence in the room, followed by a deep groan of rage and pain.

Juliana and Vincent sat up, scanning each other for any wounds, but they were both unharmed.

Vincent slowly turned his head, realizing that the stomping sound had ceased, only to find Somerton on the floor, his mouth open in a silent scream as he cradled his left arm.

Norfield shot Somerton.

Turning to berate the Earl, Vincent’s eyes widened, realizing that he’d fled during the commotion.

Damn him! Damn him to the seven gates of hell.

He looked down at his wife, whose eyes were squeezed shut and was leaning against his chest, and he could feel her erratic heartbeat reverberate through him.

Damn her also.

She had put them in this situation because she refused to listen. He’d warned her, pleaded with her, and yet she had ignored him and done whatever she liked, and now it had cost him a bullet in Somerton’s left arm.

“Can you stand?” he asked.

Juliana’s eyes fluttered open, and she nodded her head before rising to her feet with his help.

“Help him up—I’ll do something about the rest of the flames,” he ordered.

Juliana went to Somerton.

Vincent immediately took down the burned curtains, using what was left of them to extinguish the flames—which thankfully weren’t much—then he went over to Somerton.

“Can you move?” he asked.

“I got shot in my arm, not my leg, Blackmoor,” Somerton responded dryly, in an attempt to lighten the mood, but it didn’t work.

It couldn’t work.

“We have to leave before anyone discovers us,” he added.

And so together they snuck out of the mansion and into Vincent’s carriage.

“What about the blood on the carpet?” Juliana suddenly asked as they were settled into the carriage, pressing down on Somerton’s wound as per his request.

“I’ll send someone to care for it and send a missive to Trenton. He’s a military man, he’ll understand,” Vincent replied firmly. “I need you to focus on Somerton. Speak to him and make sure he doesn’t fall unconscious.”

Juliana nodded, licking her lips as she focused her attention on the Marquess.

Soon, the carriage took off. Juliana started rambling about her sisters and how they’d wonder about her disappearance. But then she stopped suddenly.

Vincent paid her no mind until she called out his name.

“Vincent…”

“What is the matter?”

“He’s not responding.”