Page 43 of The Duke’s Scottish Bride (Scottish Duchesses #3)

Chapter Thirty-Four

“ Y e mean?” Marion asked. “Ye cannae possibly be sayin…”

“Oh, yes. You have not figured this out yet?” Gilton teased. “I was the one who followed you both just the other night, Your Grace. If only your cursed husband had not shown up to ruin it all, I would have been able to exact my plan there and then!”

Suddenly, a heavy walking stick swung with brutal precision and connected with Gilton’s arm. He cried out in pain and the knife he had clutched in his grasp clattered to the stones on the ground with a clank.

Anselm’s face was a mask of fury as he stared at him. His green eyes were piercing and cold. Behind him stood Mr. Lewis, panting slightly as he surveyed the situation.

Marion realized with a jolt that Anselm had indeed had her watched, just as he had Verity.

There will be time for that later , she thought as gratitude seized her chest. Thank the heavens that he is here!

Anselm grabbed Gilton by the lapels and yanked him away from Marion before throwing him to the ground. Gilton landed with a grunt as he scrambled to sit up.

“You pathetic worm,” Anselm snarled as he enunciated each syllable. He raised his walking stick again. Then, he brought it down with controlled viciousness on Gilton’s arm before hitting his leg with a loud crack.

Gilton whimpered. He clutched his arm and then his leg before raising his hands in surrender.

“You… you cannot do this!” he begged. “You have ruined me! Have you not done enough?”

Anselm stood over him. His breath was even, and his composure was chillingly calm despite the violence he had just unleashed.

“Ruined? My dear Gilton, you have no idea what ruin truly is. While you were busy plotting your petty schemes, my Bow Street Runner, Mr. Daniels, has been quite thorough,” he said as he gestured to the quiet, efficient man standing a few paces away underneath a tree.

“He has uncovered every last one of your debts. To be clear—every fraudulent dealing and sordid detail of your pathetic existence. In fact, I was quite impressed by just how pathetic you are.”

“How dare you…”

“In fact, your creditors are already on their way,” Anselm said as he took a pocket watch out and glanced passingly at the hour.

“It seems your time is up. Your reputation, what little there was, is in tatters. This is all your own making, Gilton. Your name will be mud in every respectable circle in London by noon. You have my word on that.”

Gilton’s face went ashen. “No… no, you would not dare!”

“Oh, I assure you, I would dare,” Anselm pressed.

“Now, listen carefully, Gilton. You will leave England. Tonight. You will never set foot on these shores again. If I ever hear so much as a whisper of your presence, if you ever dare to approach my wife, my sister, or anyone connected to my household again, you will regret it deeply. More deeply than you can possibly imagine. Do you understand me?”

Gilton merely nodded as he attempted to scramble backwards on the damp grass.

“Yes… yes, Your Grace. I do believe I understand.” He pushed himself to his feet, clutching his injured arm.

He fled and quickly became a pathetic, limping shadow before disappearing into the misty park with his tail quite literally tucked between his legs.

Anselm watched him go for a moment, then turned.

His eyes snapped to Marion as he was brought back, crashing down, to reality.

His cold fury instantly evaporated and was replaced by a raw, desperate concern to see her safe.

He rushed to her with his hands reaching out, gently cupping her perfect face.

“Oh, Marion! Are you hurt?” His gaze fell to her neck, where a thin, red line marred her delicate ivory skin.

I cannot fathom how this happened, how far this all went. This gaping wound is nothing more than another testament to my failure. How did I let this happen to my tempest?

“It is nothin’, Anselm,” Marion whispered. “I promise it is just a scratch. Truly, I will be quite all right once me heart slows down. It is beatin’ as fast as a mare in an open field! I cannae believe what ye did for me.”

He moved his hands from her face to her shoulders, then down her arms in search of unseen injuries. His green eyes were wide, haunted and filled with terror, as he considered just what could have happened.

“A scratch? Marion, the man had a knife at your throat! He could have… he could have killed you! I almost… I almost lost you!”

His voice was hoarse, thick with emotion that he could no longer keep at bay. The rigid control he usually maintained was completely gone as he held his breath to steady himself.

He pulled her into a fierce embrace, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe, and burying his face in her chocolate hair.

“Oh my God, Marion. My God.”

“Your Grace,” Mr. Lewis offered as he stepped up to them. “I took the liberty of sending for a carriage, which will be here momentarily to bring you home.”

“Thank you, Lewis,” he said as he scooped Marion into his arms. “Please also be sure that a physician is sent to the house to do a full examination on Her Grace. We must ensure that she is all right. There may be injuries we cannot see…additional wounds we must care for?—”

“I am fine, Anselm,” Marion said as she put a hand to his cheek. “I appreciate yer concern, but that is not necessary. I would tell ye if there was somethin’—”

“I will decide what is necessary,” Anselm insisted. “Be off now, Lewis.”

“I will see it done immediately, Your Grace,” Mr. Lewis said with a small bow as he set off with speed.

“Please, Anselm,” Marion said once more. “I am beggin’ ye to relax. Ye have saved me from a fate worse than?—”

“Do not finish that sentence, Marion,” Anselm said as he looked away from her. “Do not dare.”