Page 3 of The Duke Who Stole Me (Stolen by the Duke #4)

Chapter Three

“ F orgive me, My Lady, but His Grace is not receiving visitors at this hour. Especially unchaperoned ladies,” the butler at Blackmoor House said with a patronizing glance in Juliana’s direction.

Juliana fidgeted, running her hand down her side slowly. She hadn’t thought she would be refused entry when she made her plan to visit the Duke of Blackmoor. As a matter of fact, she hadn’t been thinking at all.

The morning after her engagement ball had been…eventful. No one had said anything to her or her family, but there had been whispers about what transpired the night before.

Worst of all, when she had visited Geoffrey’s townhouse earlier that morning, the butler had informed her that his master had not shown up since he left for their engagement ball.

Throughout the day, she had maintained a fake smile in her family’s presence. When she was alone, though, she paced back and forth, trying to make sense of the situation. But she couldn’t. She knew too little, and there was too much going on.

So, there was only one solution: seek out the Duke of Blackmoor.

Her mother had thought he was the stranger who kept asking her questions about Geoffrey. But even though her mother wasn’t sure that it was him, it was a risk Juliana was willing to take.

Once her family had retired after dinner, Juliana made a plan with her maid to sneak off to the duke’s residence, even though a voice at the back of her head warned her not to go.

What is the worst that could happen ? she mused as she hailed a carriage.

Throughout the ride, she had constantly adjusted the hood of her large cloak over her head to better hide her face from view, worried that she would get caught and her reputation would be ruined. But she successfully made it to the duke’s residence without getting caught.

Now, as she stood right in front of the servants’ entrance, for a fleeting moment, Juliana considered turning around and returning home. But she had come such a long way to just return home without answers to her questions.

“Why not?” she asked the older man, who kept looking over her shoulder and around the entrance, in case they were being watched.

“Why not, My Lady?” His eyebrows flew up in shock at her boldness. “It is uncustomary,” he said, a note of frustration in his voice.

Juliana nodded. “All right. I understand that perfectly, but I shan’t be long. I merely wish to speak to the duke about a matter of great importance,” she explained, holding tightly to the hood over her head.

“My Lady, His Grace would not see you even if I let you in. He would have my head on a spike before dawn.”

Juliana had snuck out of her house for the first time and had found herself at the duke’s residence without being discovered. She wasn’t foolish enough to think that she would have such luck a second time. So, no matter what happened, she had to see the duke tonight .

“You have to let me in, good sir,” she pleaded, her tone as desperate as she felt.

“I fear I cannot do that, My Lady. If you wish to speak with His Grace, kindly put it in writing. Or you could return tomorrow, during the day. With a chaperone,” the butler replied, emphasizing the last bit.

“Tomorrow will be too late,” Juliana protested.

“It is too late now, My Lady.”

Juliana knew that she had to do something, or else the butler would stand guard forever.

She pressed her lips together as she watched him, a plan forming in her mind.

Finally, she nodded. “You are right. I shall return tomorrow.”

The man let out a sigh of relief, his face lighting up at her defeat.

He moved slightly away from the door to close it, creating an opening. Wasting no time, Juliana pushed past him, running into the house.

“My Lady, you cannot—” he called after her, but she was already down the hall.

“Your Grace!” she yelled, without a single care for the maids who had come out to watch. “Your Grace!” she called out again.

Barely a breath later, a tall, dark figure appeared at the landing. A black robe trailed behind him as he made his way down the stairs, a frown marring his face.

“What in God’s name is this commotion about, Lincoln?” he asked in a voice so strong and firm that it sent shivers up and down her back.

As he climbed down the final step and edged toward the dim candlelight, Juliana saw him clearly.

It was him.

A wave of relief washed over her. Finally, something she could work with.

“Pardon me, Your Grace.” She stepped closer to the light, while still holding the hood over her head, so that he could see her face. “I would have preferred to be more discreet, but your butler would not let me in,” she said, her voice smaller than she had intended.

She saw a spark of recognition in his eyes, which was quickly replaced by annoyance.

“And rightly so. Are you aware how late into the night it is, My Lady? You should not be here,” the duke sneered.

Juliana gulped, pulling her cloak tighter around herself.

“Then you must forgive me, Your Grace.” She lowered her head. “But I came for answers that only you can provide at this time.”

In the blink of an eye, he closed the distance between them, took her arm through her cloak, and pulled her down the corridor and into his study.

He closed the door behind him, then he nudged her forward.

“Have you gone mad?” he asked, staring at her as though he couldn’t believe his eyes.

Somehow, his study was more brightly lit than the corridors, and now Juliana could see him far more clearly.

She gulped when she noticed how loosely tied his robe was. She flushed, tearing her eyes away from his chest, reminding herself why she had taken such a risk.

“I have not gone mad, Your Grace,” she responded, pushing the hood of her cloak off her head.

“Oh yes, you have. Otherwise, you would not be here, at such an hour, unchaperoned,” he more or less groaned.

“I can assure you I was careful. No one saw me. I came in through the servants’ entrance.”

He scoffed, taking a few steps backward until he was leaning against his large desk. “So you say. But it seems you have forgotten so soon that my staff has seen you.” He folded his arms, watching her.

“I simply took a page out of your book, Your Grace,” she said with a shrug, which earned her a furrowed brow.

“Whatever do you mean by that?” he demanded with narrowed eyes.

“Do you think no one noticed you at the ball last night?” she asked.

His features relaxed. “I am very aware that you noticed me, My Lady. But no one else did.”

Juliana pressed her lips together, waiting for him to say more, but nothing came.

It was her turn to scoff. “Yes, you it was clever to dress simply.” She gave her head a little shake. “But, Your Grace, you cannot possibly believe a man like you can go unnoticed simply because of simple clothes.”

The duke smirked. “Now is not the time for compliments, My Lady.”

“What? No! You have misunderstood me!” Juliana blurted out, shooting him an indignant look. “I did not mean it as?—”

“I believe you didn’t,” he interrupted, and the smirk on his lips disappeared, replaced by a slight frown.

He pushed off his desk and took a few steps toward her, making sure to keep enough distance between them.

“I told you to forget me. Why have you come to my residence at such an ungodly hour?”

Juliana gulped. Now was the time to get her answers. But deep down, a part of her wasn’t sure she wanted to know what Geoffrey had gotten himself into. Nevertheless, she knew she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she did nothing.

Clearing her throat, she responded, “I believe you know, to some certain extent, about the attack last night.” She paused, squaring her shoulders. “I would like to know why you were there in the first place. According to my mother, you had declined our invitation. And yet you attended in simple clothes. So, why were you there?”

Vincent could do nothing but stare at her. If he were given a thousand chances, he would never have guessed that the lady standing before him was bold enough to visit him so late at night.

“Is this all you came to inquire about? If it is, then you should leave this instant.”

Her big brown eyes widened immediately, and she took an unconscious step toward him, putting her arms out as though to keep him still.

Her rose perfume wafted toward him then, the sweet scent sending tingles down his spine. Before he knew it, the memories from the night before flooded his mind.

His body pressed against her small frame, the scent of her, the feel of her, the way she had stared up at him?—

“No, Your Grace.”

Her velvety voice came right in time, pulling him out of those thoughts.

“It is not all, but it is a start. I need to know why you were there, and why you seemed to be looking for my fiancé!” she demanded, her tone sharp.

Vincent took a step toward her, and she took one backward.

“You do not get to make demands of me, My Lady, especially when you’re standing here.” He took another step. “In my residence.” And another. “Needing something from me.”

With every step Vincent took toward her, she took one backward until her back was pressed against the door. She was trapped.

A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips, but he quickly schooled his features.

“Must I beg?” she muttered.

Beg . He liked the way the word rolled off her tongue.

“By all means, go ahead,” he said. “But it will be much more effective if you get down on your knees,” he added, his voice unmistakably husky.

A gasp escaped her lips, and her doe eyes widened in pure shock.

“I shall do no such thing,” she snapped.

“Seems to me you are not as desperate as you claim to be,” Vincent drawled, staring into her wide, fiery brown eyes, a sly smile on his lips.

He drank in the pleasure of her nearness, and for a moment, he could imagine her underneath him, screaming out his name in pure ecstasy.

The lady took a deep breath and closed her eyes to calm herself. When she opened them, she seemed collected.

“Your Grace, I only wish to know what you know about my betrothed.”

A frown quickly creased his brow. “Trust me, My Lady, you do not want to get involved.”

“I do!” she cried “I wish to know the sort of man I am going to be bound to for the rest of my life!”

He could sense the frustration seeping out of her, and though he felt the urge to bend her over his desk, the mention of her betrothed dampened it.

“I am to be blamed for asking you about Norfield. Clearly, it was a mistake on my part,” he said.

“Mistake or not, Your Grace, I need to know! My family’s reputation is on the line.”

Vincent groaned in frustration. This was one of the reasons he did not involve himself with women. They were far too meddlesome for his liking. He much preferred his women silent—when they were tangled in his sheets.

“No.” He stepped away from her.

“Why not?” She threw her hands up in the air.

“Because after this, Norfield will find an excuse to break off your engagement. So, you will have nothing at stake, and you won’t refer to him as your betrothed anymore.”

“I beg your pardon?” She sounded offended by his words. However, Vincent could not bring himself to care. “No. He—he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t abandon me so easily, not after what happened at the ball,” she insisted, although it was more to herself than to him.

He merely watched her, finding it amusing how she believed she was important to a man like Norfield.

“That man does not give a damn about you. Now that he knows he’s being hunted, he will disappear to cover his tracks, and trust me, you do not want to be with a man like him.”

Panic set in, and her once confident demeanor changed. Fear, stark and vivid, flashed in her eyes, and for a moment, he thought she might cry. But she didn’t.

Thank heavens.

He had handled many matters, especially gruesome matters that toed the line between life and death, but the one thing he could never seem to handle properly was a crying woman.

“This will surely ruin my family. Please…tell me whatever you know, Your Grace. I would hate to be unprepared, should everything go wrong.” Her eyes pleaded with him.

“I have nothing more to say to you, My Lady.”

He paused, looking sideways at the clock hanging above the single sofa in his study.

“You have overstayed your welcome. Go back home. I shall instruct Lincoln to hail a hackney for you. No need to thank me, it’s the least I can do.”

“Your Grace, I cannot simply return home without more. My family?—”

“Has absolutely nothing to do with me. Now, leave and never come back.”

Face bright red with fury, the lady turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, leaving the most delicious scent of fresh roses in her wake.