Page 19 of The Untamed Duke (The Secret Crusaders #3)

CHAPTER 19

T he Private Diary of Sophia Hawkins

Rules.

They are the lifeblood of the ton , the written and unwritten guidelines by which we must abide. Any deviance has severe consequences, not merely upon the perpetrator but upon any family so unfortunate to share blood. Follow every single rule, and you will be safe, they claim.

Not true.

How many rule-followers has scandal caught, by misfortune or fate? How many have been targeted by those who thrive on others’ pain? How many are damaged simply by relation? So many, despite painstaking diligence.

It is why I do not follow rules.

The townhome was exactly as she remembered.

The settees were still high and velvety, the mahogany furnishings richly stained, the adornments priceless and unique. Jewel encrusted antiques lined intricately carved shelves, including a rather extensive selection of vases, amidst oversized furniture that whispered untold luxury. The air still smelled fresh and clean, scented with gardenias and citrus. Indeed everything was the same.

Everything, that was, except her.

Somehow she was a stranger. It was a peculiar feeling, in the abode where her mother lived, where her father once ruled. Her brother’s wife had become a sister, and both she and Edmund not only welcomed her, but expected she stay until the moment she wed. Yet somehow, it no longer felt like home.

Not like Kenneth’s home.

It was ridiculous, preposterous even. Kenneth’s manor had never been home – indeed, it had been her prison. There was nothing special about the stones that forged Kenneth’s estate, nothing extraordinary about the land, trees or lakes. The bedrooms, hallways and rooms were unremarkable. It had never been something .

It was someone.

Yet what existed was now over. She must refocus her life, carve her own path. One unarguable benefit of the trip had been Kenneth’s tutelage on self-defense, which she would now share with other women. She would propose the idea to Priscilla the very next day, if Edmund did not lock her in her room for the next five years. She took a step towards the stairway–

A hot breath on her neck was her only warning.

She gasped as someone grabbed her, as two heavy hands shackled her wrists. She opened her mouth to scream, just as the scent of her captor surrounded her. “Edmund,” she cried.

“Sophia?” For a moment he was still, and in the next he enveloped her against his formidable form, as tightly as the time she’d fallen out of the big oak tree in the country. Love surrounded her, as he soothed her just as he had back then, conveying without words the bond between sister and brother. And although it could not make everything better, the world was a little brighter in her big brother’s arms.

They stayed like that for a minute and more, before he slowly pulled back. He studied her carefully. “Are you all right?”

Not even a little.

Yet somehow she managed a whisper of a smile. “I am well.”

“Are you certain?” For once her brother appeared starkly dismayed, the normally unflappable man fighting for control.

She placed a hand on his arm. “I am.”

His eyes lit in stark relief, yet a moment later they flashed with fury. She drew back. He rarely allowed her to see such emotion. “I’m angry at him, not at you. I’m ever so relieved to have you back.”

A sliver of guilt sliced through her. It was ridiculous of, course, to feel shame when she had been kidnapped. Yet had she taken more care, Kenneth never would have had the opportunity to take her.

Or perhaps, he still would have found a way.

Still, the remorse grew, although strangely, not for the physical relations she enjoyed. Any privilege a man was afforded should extend to women. Yet she’d been with her brother’s self-proclaimed enemy. Had she betrayed Edmund with every kind word they shared?

The urge to confess tightened her chest, even as the consequences paralyzed her. Her brother was a good man, unwaveringly honorable, yet his views on society were unpredictable. She could not reveal the truth if she wanted to keep her options, her very future, hers.

If the chance existed anyways.

Despite her resolution, the guilt grew. Perhaps she could admit something, without revealing everything. “I’m partly to blame.”

Edmund stiffened. “I’m sorry?”

She took a step away from him, gazing with unseeing eyes at her mother’s collection of fans. “The night I was taken, I followed Foxworth into the garden.” She breathed deeply. “If I’d stayed in the ballroom, none of this would have happened.”

Edmund’s gaze softened, as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Foxworth is a very determined man. He would have found a way.” He stepped away, and his features hardened once more. “The fault is mine. I knew Foxworth was a threat, and I should have watched you closer. I shall not make the same mistake again. Henceforth you will be guarded at all times.”

Her breath hitched.

In the distance, a clock struck, with only a few lonely notes to mark the late, or rather early, hour. Edmund exhaled, relaxing again. “There is much to discuss, yet now is not the time. You have returned, and this is a joyous day.” He rubbed her back. “You must be exhausted. Off to bed with you.”

She nodded, even as her stomach churned. It felt wrong, having her brother care for her as if she were still in the nursery. She was no longer a naive girl, but a woman, strong, independent and powerful in her own right. Not because of the physical relations she shared, but something far more substantial.

“Ken– Foxworth will visit tomorrow.”

His eyes flashed fury, proving he hadn’t missed her slip. “That will save me from having to confront him.”

“We should meet him together.”

“No.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off with a slice of his hand. His voice was curt, clipped and brooked no argument. “I will take care of him.”

Dread and fear tangled within her. “What do you have planned?”

“That is a matter for men.”

Absolutely not. “Before you speak, there are matters we must discuss. He believes you murdered his father. A journal and his father’s man of business confirmed it, but I’m convinced…”

“Enough!” His voice whipped the air. “The former duke was responsible for his own ills, and his own demise. If Foxworth had come to me, I would have explained that. He doesn’t want the truth.” Edmund’s voice was low. “His crime was never about me.”

Heat flamed throughout her body. “You’re wrong. The kidnapping was only supposed to be a few days.”

“A few days?” he snapped. “You’ve been gone a month.”

“That wasn’t his fault.” She waved her hand. “A storm destroyed the only bridge to London. I saw it with my own eyes.”

“I can assure you, the only person trapped was you.” His eyes blazed. “I will discuss the matter with Foxworth tomorrow. If your concern is a forced marriage, rest assured, I have no intention of giving you to him. That man will never lay a hand on you again.”

No.

Exhaustion took hold, usurping all of her energy in a moment’s span. Too overwhelmed to protest, she nodded, yet it was not a surrender. Tomorrow she would confront Edmund again, convince him to make peace with her former captor. She would find a way to make matters right.

Yet for now she allowed him to lead her up to a bedroom that no longer seemed hers, a luxurious bed that was no longer warm or secure. As sleep carried her away, there was no relief, no happiness.

Only a thousand dreams of a man who could never be hers.

Everything was perfect.

Perfectly wrong.

On the outside, all seemed well. She had woken as she always did, to a cheerful maid, hot chocolate and a blissful bath. Yet the maid was not as witty as Kenneth, the chocolate was not as delicious as the country fare, and the bath somehow felt cold despite the steam curling from it.

She had shared her last bath.

During breakfast, her brother was back to normal, his emotions perfectly controlled. He acted as if she’d just arrived back from the holiday they concocted, not a kidnapping by his sworn enemy. Priscilla also acted as typical, yet by the flash in her eyes, she was privy to her scandalous adventure. Her brother’s marriage may have been built on secrets, yet now it was forged by honesty. Exactly the sort of match she hoped for one day.

She was not ready to speak with Priscilla, who would deduce far more than her brother ever would, mainly because he still considered her an innocent babe. Which was why she excused herself directly after breakfast, and returned to her room, where she was currently making every effort to pace a hole into the rug.

Emotions churned within her, inescapable, turbulent, raw. Every time she tried to decipher them, her stomach burned, as if she’d eaten a dozen grapefruits at once, and she drew back. What if Kenneth’s visit to Bradenton was not about the feud, but something else entirely?

What if he planned to declare his love?

Flames snapped in the fireplace as something sparked in her chest, even as she stifled it. She couldn’t allow her emotions to escape until he shared his. She ignored the voice that said it didn’t quite work that way.

How would she discover the truth? Edmund refused to allow her at the meeting that would determine her future. She had demanded, cajoled, pleaded and bribed, yet he remained firm.

She stopped pacing.

Edmund would meet with Kenneth in the front drawing room. If she just happened to be in the chamber next door, near the adjoining wall, with her ear pressed against the wall, she wouldn’t really be able to avoid hearing them.

She took a deep breath. Soon she would learn Kenneth’s plans, then just perhaps she could explore the emotions she glimpsed within herself.

She couldn’t wait.

Kenneth did not sleep until the fashionable hour. Did not stay abed until the typical ton stumbled awake, rushing to apply potions and creams to hide the shadows from their late-night debaucheries. Just a whisper after dawn’s first light, he left the bed he’d barely slept in, eschewing sustenance completely.

He dressed sharply, donned the usual weapons he kept for protection, plus several extra. Not for Bradenton, but for his father’s business associates, who would undoubtedly attempt another assault. He would pay them a visit soon, but for now his focus was on one goal.

Claiming Sophia.

He’d storm Bradenton this very moment, yet angering the man with a ludicrously early call served no purpose. So he visited the expansive library, where memories of Sophia greeted him, and attacked the mountain of letters that arrived in his absence. Several were from Clara, who was greatly enjoying her holiday, although she complained of having to convince their grandmother to not spend all day locked inside. Several were from their grandmother, who was also greatly enjoying her holiday, although she complained of having to pretend she didn’t want to go anywhere to prevent Clara from spending all day locked inside. They would be returning next week, one of the few events to which he was looking forward.

Unfortunately, a significant portion of the letters came from his so-called business associates, who had increased their correspondence to thrice a day, with quadruple as many threats. No doubt they would pay him a visit soon, and this time he would be ready.

But first it was time to make the most important offer of his life.

He left at the earliest reasonable hour, or a bit before, if he were honest. The ride seemed but seconds, before he was rapping on the formidable door of the Bradenton household. If the servants were surprised to see him, they didn’t show it, as they granted him immediate entrance.

He was shown to a drawing room of elegant luxury, filled with deep oak furniture, plush settees and oversized vases. Antique fans edged in gold covered the walls, and a crackling fireplace brought warmth, light and grandeur. A selection of fine liquor had been left for him to indulge, yet he took none. He would be of complete mind for the next task.

Bradenton did not keep him waiting long. The powerful duke’s eyes blazed, his lips tight, as he strode in, dressed in all black. Most people would have retreated from the pure fury emanating from one of the most powerful men in London, yet Kenneth stood tall, straight. He would need his own power to claim Sophia.

“Your sister is mine.”

They were not the words he planned. He’d crafted the perfect speech, practiced it even in the privacy of his bedroom. He’d made it as gracious as possible, perhaps not an actual apology for his father’s murderer, but at least an explanation of their extended stay. Yet when he saw the man standing between him and Sophia, instincts had taken control.

Eyes so similar to those of his lass flashed with fury. It didn’t matter. By whatever means necessary, he would convince Bradenton to accept his offer.

Kenneth stepped forward. “I am prepared to do the right thing.”

“You haven’t done the right thing since you first attacked my family,” Bradenton snapped. “What makes you think I’d allow you to see Sophia again, much less keep her?”

Do not call out this man. Do not race past him, grab Sophia and steal her away. “I just spent a month with your sister, unchaperoned. A union is the only honorable outcome.”

Bradenton’s gaze turned as dark as a midnight storm. “I will not sacrifice my sister for propriety’s sake. You took your revenge for a crime I did not commit. You are fortunate my wife convinced me that killing a man in a duel, or being killed myself, was not the ideal resolution to your crimes.” He glared a thousand daggers. “Do not underestimate my power.”

Indeed, power defined the massive man before him. Yet it forged him as well. “You would risk ensnaring your sister in scandal?”

Bradenton’s glare became thunderous. “What scandal? My sister has been on holiday this past month, visiting her cousin. You were on a trip to Scotland. By fate or fortune, no one saw you together, and there’s not a hint of gossip to suggest otherwise. As you predicted in your letter, no scandal emerged.”

This was not the path he hoped to take, or the strategy he thought to employ, yet nothing would stop him from claiming Sophia. “There could be.”

An icy glare turned into an avalanche. “You hate me so much, Foxworth, you would destroy Sophia?”

The very notion he could harm Sophia scathed fire through him. He could never hurt the woman he lo…

He stopped, blinked. Liked. He liked her, of course. She was an exceptional woman.

“You would destroy her life for revenge?” his host snarled. “Ruin her to get back at me? You claim honor, yet you are no gentlemen!”

Pure red filled his vision. “You talk of honor? You led an old man to ruin before murdering him! You are the one without honor.” He strode up to the duke, eye to eye, fury to fury. They were the same size, as they circled each other. “This will be your revenge, Bradenton. You lost your sister to your sworn enemy, and I am never giving Sophia back.” He stood with all the power he possessed. “She is mine.”

The door opened.

Both men turned, as a tiny tornado stormed into the room. Cheeks blazed pink, eyes flashing fire. Then the woman who would be his duchess stood in pure fury. “I will never belong to you.”

Challenge accepted.