Page 27 of The Duke’s Sworn Spinster (A Duel and a Wedding #1)

Chapter Twenty-Five

“ A re you not tired of your pity party, Dash?” Cora jerked open the curtains of his study, letting the harsh winter sunlight stream in as she picked up the empty bottles around him.

Archer glowered at his sister who simply arched an eyebrow at him and continued about her business.

“You really should shower. You reek. No woman is going to want to come near you looking like that.” Cora gave him a frank look, her nose wrinkled in distaste.

“Perhaps that is the point.” Archer shrugged.

Cora sighed and then gagged, holding her nose. “Good lord, Dash, I have been to barns that smell less bad than you.”

“What on Earth have you been doing in barns?” He frowned at her.

Her cheeks coloured but only slightly. “Never you mind. This is not about me; it is about you.”

“Just leave me alone.”

“No. I’m fed up with you moping around. You’re the one who always tells us that all decisions are a choice.” She picked up a bottle from the floor and sniffed it then looked at the label. “Things must be truly dire if you are drinking this swill.”

“They say it’ll put hairs on your chest.” Archer shrugged. “Besides, at a certain point of drunkenness, decent wine becomes a waste.”

“I would not give my worst enemy this to drink, not even if the person had stolen my true love and dishonoured Juliet.” Cora gagged. “No wonder you look like a body pulled from a river.”

“I do not look that bad. It is only a bit of beard.”

“Iris has started calling you Uncle Bear.” Cora gave him a hard look. “You look like some sort of wild man who has been living in caves for half a century.”

“Did you come here just to insult me, or was there a point to this?” Archer snapped. “Much as I am enjoying this little tete a tete, I am not in the mood.

Cora ignored him and threw a few logs on the fire. “You realize that Iris is threatening to follow in your suit? She keeps saying that if Uncle Dash doesn’t bathe, then why should she?”

Cora kicked another bottle into the Hessian sack and surveyed the room with a satisfied air. Even Archer had to admit that without the tens of bottles, the place looked better.

“Just leave me alone, Cora. Juliet has already tried to make me see sense.” Archer leaned against the desk, running a hand over the beard that he had let spread across his face.

It was scratchy and coarse, and normally, he wouldn’t have been able to stand the feel of it, but he figured he deserved the discomfort. Bear man. Iris had not visited him in days. It made his heart ache, but he had not found the will to rouse himself from his self-induced stupor.

“Yes, but Juliet tried to soft approach. And now it is time for the Cora approach.” She gave him a wicked grin, and Archer closed his eyes, hoping she would take the hint.

“And what is—Arrrrrgh!” Archer leapt to his feet as Cora dumped a bucket of water over his head. “What the hell are you playing at?”

“If you are going to behave like a child, I will treat you like a child.” Cora glared up at him. “You were the one who used to bring to bath to us if we did not behave.”

“I am a duke, Cora. I am the man of the house?—”

“Then start bloody well acting like it, Dash. Because right now I can barely recognize the man you have become. All my life, I have looked up to you. I have always wanted to be like you. Whenever I felt like I might lose my course, I thought, what would Archer do. God, I hated that I could not be like you.”

“Why would you want to be like me?”

“Because you are strong. You kept us safe in ways I cannot even dream of. I may be strong, I may be able to pretend to be you, but I will never actually be you, Dash.”

“I never wanted you to be. I was only strong so that you would not have to be.”

“Then it is time for me to return the favour. Let me be strong for you right now, let me lend you my strength as you have done for us so many times.”

“And how do you propose you do that?”

“Well, by forcing you to talk to me, and if that fails, giving you a good kick up the rear.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“There is the Dash I know. You are not the kind of man who just rolls over like a dog. You have always gone after what you want, always. And that is doubly true when it is something someone you love wants.”

Archer said nothing, but his sister took this as permission to continue, a small smile stealing across her face.

“Do you remember when Iris said she wanted that one particular doll? The one that was impossible to get because of the war in France? And you somehow contacted a soldier who had been injured at the front and his commanding officer and arranged to have the doll sent home with them?”

Cora was on a roll now; Archer could tell by the spring in her step as she paced around the room. “Or the time that I wanted to try my hand at mead making?—”

“Don’t remind me. I don’t think any of us have ever been so unwell.”

“My point is, you did everything that was within your power to make that happen.” His sister prodded him in the chest. “Because that is who you are. So why are you pretending that it is not?”

“It is different, Cora.”

“Do you love her?”

“That is not the point.”

“Do you love her?”

“Of course, I do, how could I not? I want her to be my wife, in every sense of the world. But how can I when I know what it will lead to?”

“Do you truly think that Lydia is anything like that snake we had for a mother? Do you think she would bend you to her will?”

“No.” Archer swallowed and looked his sister in the eye, unable to keep the truth buried any longer. “I am not worried that Lydia would be our mother; I am worried that it will be me. That I will be too weak to resist my urges. That if I give into what she makes me feel, I will become her. ”

There was a beat of silence as Archer and Cora looked at each other, and then his sister nodded. “Dash, do you actually think mother ever… loved anything?”

“I don’t know.”

“I think you do.” Cora sat down beside him. “What mother showed was never love. It was control. What she and father had, it was some not love. Infatuation, passion, obsession. But that is not love.”

“But that is what this feels like, Cora. I cannot stop thinking about her. Do you know why I have drunk myself senseless? Because if I could not walk, I could not give in to this urge to go to her. She is always in my thoughts. Whether it is as simple as how I could make her smile, or just a memory of something totally mundane that she has said. I feel so out of control with her.”

Cora paused for a moment, as though weighing her words carefully. “Is it being out of control or knowing that if she leads, you can safely follow?”

Her words cut through him, and she leaned against him, wrapping her arms around him in an awkward hug. “This is love. Giving without expecting something in return.”

“What if it’s too late, Cora? What if I’ve ruined everything with her? I let her go; I told her. I said it was not worth it—I know how that sounds, but I did not mean she was not worth it. I meant…” He trailed off as Cora squeezed him tighter.

“I am not the one you need to say this to. You need to talk to your wife,” Cora murmured and then gave him a wicked smile. “Though you really should shave before you see her—otherwise she might run for the hills.”

“Full of wit, as always.” Archer stood up and stretched, his back and shoulders making ominous cracking noises. He wrinkled his nose. “Though you are definitely right about the bath.”

“I’d burn those clothes if I was you.” Cora gestured to the roaring fire.

“Your Grace! Your Grace! Oh God, where is he?” Dotty came hurtling through the hall, glancing right past Archer.

“Dotty?” Archer frowned. “What are you doing here?”

“Your Grace? Oh, thank goodness, it is you! It is the Duchess.” Dotty clutched at a stitch.

“What is wrong? What happened to the Duchess?” His blood turned to ice.

“I think she has gone mad, Your Grace. She insisted on going for a carriage ride. I tried to stop her, told her there were no drivers, but she would not hear it.” Dotty wrung her hands. “I know that look, Your Grace. She would not have let them stop her.”

Archer was already moving, the maid struggling to keep up with her. “How long ago was this?”

“I ran here as fast as I could. It could not have been more than five minutes. Perhaps six,” Dotty panted.

Archer nodded. There was time. The cottage was closer to the stables, but if luck favored him, he would be able to find her. Cora was hot on his heels, and the pair of them hurtled through the door.

I have to find her. She is going to get herself killed. God. Not this!

“Have either of you to seen Iris?” Juliet called to them as they sped past.

Archer’s heart sunk even further, and he ran like the devil himself was chasing him, Cora beside him. They arrived in time to see the Phaeton pulling away, and his heart sank then rose when he saw it stop.

It was too far for him to yell, but if she just stayed still long enough. Screaming. The horse rearing. The Phaeton tumbling, two bodies hurtling from it.

“Lydia!” Archer screamed as Cora yelled, “Iris!”

They ran. The silhouettes—there were definitely two. “We must mind the river,” Archer shouted to Cora as they ran towards the figures. “It will be impossible to see in this.”

“Perhaps we should head for the pa?—”

Her words were drowned out by Lydia’s screams as Iris hurtled straight towards them. Archer let out a stream of curses and practically flew. He arrived just in time to see Lydia hurl herself against Iris, flinging his niece to safety.

And then the river took his wife.

“Dash! What are you doing?” Cora called as Archer hurled off his coat and kicked off his shoes.

“Get Iris. Keep her away from the edge.” He gave his sister a look. “I am going to get my wife.”

He plunged into the icy water. He had been prepared for the cold, but still, he felt it seize him like a vice. He struck out, catching sight of a sky-blue thing floating in front of him.

Lydia.

She wasn’t moving. Archer swam towards her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her up, up. His head breached the surface, the cold air like thousands of knives in his lungs. He gritted his teeth and swam to the shore.

“Uncle?” Iris was standing close by, shivering and afraid. “Uncle, is Auntie Lydia?—”

“Where the hell is Cora?” Archer looked around, searching for his sister.

“Here.” She had freed Jezabell from the Phaeton and was leading the horse carefully towards them. “We need to get her home, and riding will be the fastest.”

“What about Iris?” Archer asked, looking at his trembling niece.

“She is frightened, but she did not fall in. I’ll take her to the stables, and we’ll ride home after you.” Cora looked at Lydia, her mouth set in a firm line.

Archer nodded, handing his sister his wife briefly, so he could swing up onto Jezabel. She handed Lydia to him, and then he was galloping back towards the estate.

“Stay with me, Lydia; please my darling, stay with me.” Archer hugged her cold body to him; her breathing was shallow but still there.

He rode right up to the steps, leaping down from the horse with Lydia in his arms. Juliet appeared, her eyes wide. “What happened?”

“Get the doctor, now,” Archer roared.

“There is a fire in the drawing room, Your Grace.” Dotty appeared. “And I’ll have more logs brought.”

Archer sprinted towards the drawing room. “Bring me blankets.”

“There are some already waiting, Your Grace, but I’ll fetch more, and something to dress her in.” Dotty sprinted away.

Archer laid Lydia on the floor as close to the fire as he could get. Her lips were blue. Her wet hair clung to her face. “I’m sorry to do this.”

He tore off her clothes, barely noticing what he was doing, just desperate to get his wife warm and dry. He bundled her into the blankets, gently rubbing her arms as he babbled inanely at her.

“If you come back to me, I swear that I will spend the rest of my life earning your forgiveness,” he whispered, pressing his lips against her forehead.

“Archer, you’re soaking wet too. You need to” Juliet began but Archer cut her off.

“I will not leave her, Juliet. I let her go once already, and I have learned my damn lesson. I only pray it is not too late.”

The sound of horses’ hooves signaled the arrival of Cora and Iris. “Take Iris upstairs. I do not… I do not want her seeing Lydia until she looks more like herself.”

“Archer….” Lydia murmured, and his heart leapt. “Yes, Lydia. I’m here. I’m right here.”

He pressed her fingertips to his lips, kissing her icy skin. “Come back to me please. I will never let you go again.”

“Wet… dog…” Lydia wrinkled her nose, and then she faded once more.