Page 21 of The Untamed Duke (The Secret Crusaders #3)

CHAPTER 21

T he Private Diary of Sophia Hawkins

Life must continue, even if it will never be the same.

A lady of the ton must consider every move carefully, for scandal is ever-present, hiding in darkened corners, peeking through hedges, listening at doorways. We are endlessly watched, forever scrutinized, always judged. My life has returned, yet I am not certain I want it. In the end, I will not adhere to the destiny they demand.

Time to forge my own path.

“How are you?” Priscilla opened her arms wide.

Sophia embraced her sister-in-law, portraying the perfect picture of serenity. The ton must believe they were enjoying each other after a modest absence, not celebrating the end of a kidnapping.

The ton must believe…

The ton must believe…

The ton must believe…

If only she could ignore what the ton must believe.

Yet it was the world into which she was born, and she must never forget how fortunate she truly was. Many were not so lucky to have food in their bellies, a warm bed in which to sleep, a secure home.

They broke apart. “I am well.”

A tinkling of laughter, its cadence filled with false mirth, rang through the air. Sophia edged further into the corner, away from the revelers enjoying the magnificence of the Rawlings ball. The night was an absolute crush, with crisp lords and stylish ladies twirling and swirling under the majestic candlelight. A hundred exclusive scents filled the air, mixed with the aroma of the steaming pastries invisible servants peddled. At least the generously sized orchestra was skilled, their music lilting and pure as it covered their conversation.

“Truly, how are you?” Priscilla rubbed her arm, in the same spot Kenneth liked to touch.

Sophia adjusted her pale peach gown. It was tight, itchy and uncomfortable, so unlike the supple fabrics she wore during her trip. She liked Kenneth’s shirts the best of all. “I’m fine.” She waved her hand. “More than fine.”

If fine meant she wanted to jump in the Thames and swim until London was far behind.

Her heart was shattered. Destroyed. Broken into a million shards that could never be made whole. Yet she could never share that, not even with Priscilla. “Tell me the news while I was away.”

Priscilla frowned at the clear attempt to steer the conversation. Yet she nodded. “This is not the place for this conversation, but we shall talk later. I will supply chocolate and vases.” She lowered her voice. “I do indeed have good news. The journal has been returned.”

Sophia put a hand to her chest, as the weight of dozens of lives lifted off her shoulders. “That is indeed fortunate. Who took it?”

“I don’t know.” Priscilla glanced around again, lowered her voice further. “It arrived by courier a week ago, with no return address and no word who sent it. The thief left no clue as to his identity.”

“A week ago?” Sophia breathed. “Then, it couldn’t possibly have been Ken– I mean Foxworth.”

Priscilla’s gaze sharpened. “No, because as everyone knows, Foxworth was in Scotland.”

Not in Scotland, but sequestered with her, behind one broken bridge and a thousand shattered dreams. Sophia swiftly pressed on, “Has any of the information been made public?”

Priscilla shook her head. “Thankfully, no. There’s not a hint of gossip or suspicion regarding the guild. The thief never demanded ransom, made threats or communicated in any way.”

“Perhaps it was a mistake.” Sophia rocked back on her heels. “Maybe the bandit confused your journal with another book.”

“Or perhaps he is simply biding his time.” Priscilla edged closer, as her eyes darkened. “Not everything was the same. A page is missing.”

Sophia’s throat dried. With a secret society of forbidden activities, a single page had the power to destroy lives. “Did it contain information about the ladies?”

Priscilla hesitated.

Not good.

“It revolved around single person,” Priscilla whispered. “It described our work with the sanctuary, and its proprietress.”

There was only one person that could describe. “Elizabeth?” Priscilla’s quick nod provided confirmation. “Was there enough description to identify her?”

This time, Priscilla didn’t hesitate. “If the person is smart and tenacious enough, then yes. With our collaboration, it wouldn’t take much to discover who and where she is.”

It didn’t make sense. Elizabeth was not a lady. “Everyone at the sanctuary knows of Elizabeth’s work. She has the least to lose if identified.”

“Perhaps…” Priscilla’s gaze remained even. “Or perhaps there is far more to her than we know.”

They all hid secrets.

“Please hide me!”

Sophia started, relaxed as a familiar lady appeared before them. Hannah looked all but disheveled in a pale green dress with emerald adornments. “Crawford is following me again, with most nefarious intent.”

Sophia hid her smile. Having been the target of a lord with nefarious intent, she was fairly certain Hannah’s conundrum did not meet the lofty standards her kidnapping duke established. “What nefarious purpose is this?”

Hannah’s face screwed into utter hopelessness. “He wants a dance.”

Priscilla’s lips twitched. “Wouldn’t it be easier to simply dance with him?”

By the look on Hannah’s face, Priscilla may have suggested she dance with a pirate. “Absolutely not. Because then he will want another dance, and then I’ll want another dance, and then I may do something I’ll very much regret.”

“Bop him on the head with a vase?” Priscilla guessed.

“Kidnap him?” Sophia hazarded.

“Introduce him to an alligator? Just to scare him of course.”

The ladies turned to another newcomer. “Emma!” They took turns embracing the beauty, then smiled widely at the Earl of Peyton, Emma’s husband.

“How was the wedding trip?” Sophia took her friend’s arm. “Was Scotland fantastic?”

“It was beautiful.” Emma beamed as only a woman in love could. “The land was gorgeous, the weather was perfect and there were endless diversions. We would have stayed forever, but duty calls.” She grinned at her husband, who portrayed matching adoration. A hidden message passed between the two, yet it disappeared in an instant. Emma slid a sly look to Sophia. “I heard something else from Scotland has been lurking about.”

Sophia opened her mouth to concoct some sort of excuse, when Peyton touched his wife’s arm. “I believe I am needed,” he murmured. “If you will excuse me.”

Strangely, Emma didn’t seem the least bit upset by her husband’s abrupt departure. “You were saying?”

This time Hannah saved her. “Crawford is heading this way.” Her gaze darkened. “Or not. Why is he dancing with Lady Ruby? She’s the most mean-spirited lady in the ton. ”

This time, no one managed to hide their smiles.

“I’m afraid Sophia will have to tell me her news later.” Emma linked arms with Hannah. “Didn’t you say you wanted somewhere to hide? I know the perfect place to get into a little trouble.”

As they stepped in the direction of the ladies’ retiring room, neither Hannah nor Crawford took their eyes off each other. Perhaps she wasn’t the only one concealing secrets.

Speaking of secrets… She smiled at her sister-in-law. “I’ve discovered how I can further our cause. I’d like to show ladies their own power.”

“Their own power?” Priscilla’s brow crinkled. “What do you mean?”

Sophia flexed her fingers. “I can teach ladies how to protect themselves. I learned much about self-defense during my… holiday.” She choked lightly. “I’d like to teach women the basics of resisting an attack. It could be my contribution to the guild.”

Priscilla blinked, then a slow, wide smile curved her lips. “Quite a contribution it will be.”

“You can teach ladies to defend themselves?”

Sophia and Priscilla turned, and the newcomer turned as pale as the pure white gown that hung off her slight frame. “I’m sorry for interrupting.” Lady Julia’s voice was low and stilting. “I was wondering if you had a minute to talk.” She ducked her head.

Sophia’s smile faltered, as the debutante all but cowered before them. She appeared to be wearing some sort of powder…

She swallowed a gasp. A blackened eye peeked out from limp curls.

“Are you all right?” The words escaped before she could stop them, thankfully low enough only the three heard.

Julia’s eyes darted between the two of them, as her lower lip quivered. “I don’t think so,” she whispered.

Priscilla stood as stiff as a debutante’s corset. “Can I assume your betrothed is the source of this problem?”

A sharp intake of breath revealed the obvious answer. The entire ton knew about the baron’s affinity for the bottle, and his violent temper. A moment passed, then a halting whisper, “There’s nothing to be done. We are to be married the week after next.”

“There is much that can be done. All will be well, I promise.” Priscilla reached towards the younger woman, yet she lurched back. Surreptitious glances turned their way as Julia barely regained her balance.

Do not yell.

Do not cry.

Do something instead.

Priscilla’s eyes blazed fury. “My husband knows your father well. I’m certain he can address the situation.”

“Thank you.” Julia took a shuddering breath. “Did you mean what you said before, Sophia, about teaching ladies to protect themselves?”

Sophia started to reach out, stilled and retreated. “I learned some defensive skills, which can help prevent an attack.”

Ever-so-slightly, Julia straightened. “I shall like to be your first student.”

Those who claimed women were the weaker sex never saw an abused woman lift herself up and dare to fight. It would not make everything better, yet perhaps it could give her some of the confidence every woman deserved. “I will teach you all that I know.”

“Thank you,” Julia whispered.

Sophia waved her hand. “It is nothing.”

“No. It is something.” A spark, tiny and yet filled with strength, flickered in Julia’s eyes. “Both of you do so much to help people, changing lives for the better. In a world in which we must hide all emotion, your actions show your true self.”

Sophia’s breath hitched.

Her mind swirled as Priscilla and Julia embraced lightly, as they said their goodbyes and departed arm in arm. Her thoughts churned as the people danced around her, peddling a hundred dreams and a thousand falsehoods. She remained in place as the words repeated again and again:

Your actions show your true self.

Kenneth had sentenced himself to life without love, afraid to risk his mother’s fate. Yet had he truly been successful? What he hadn’t said with words, he had shown in so many ways:

His fear when he pulled her from the river’s clutches.

His delight when they laughed together.

His kindness as he taught her everything she asked.

The adoration he could never quite hide.

How did she truly feel? For once, she explored without hesitation or fear, recrimination or regret. Forbidden emotions burst forth, an explosion of color painting a gray world brilliant. Happiness and joy, delight and adoration, yet one emotion burned bright above them all:

Love.

She loved Kenneth. Had loved him for so very long. He was honorable and kind, considerate and noble, and he brought her joy as no one ever before. She relished their moments together, wanted nothing more than to remain by his side.

She wanted a lifetime.

She moved swiftly now, propelled by hope, sacrificing but a minute to glance at her chaperones. Her mother had returned the previous night and was busy catching up on a month’s worth of gossip. Edmund and Priscilla were deep in conversation, regarding Julia no doubt. Kenneth wasn’t visible, yet overheard conversations revealed he’d entered the garden. None of her family members noticed as she slipped through a narrow door, stepping into her future.

The moon cast long shadows on manicured paths, scented with the fruity aroma of Lady Rawling’s orangery. Low conversation drifted from behind leafy barriers, natural hiding spots for secret lovers. She slipped past them, delving further and further into the lush grounds. Even as good sense urged her to retreat, she continued on the moist grass.

She stepped through the moonlit trail, amidst memories of another party a month and a lifetime ago. That garden may have been different, the night as well, and most certainly her , yet so much seemed the same as she traveled as far as she dared, and beyond.

The voices of the party faded into the background, as she neared the edge of the property with no sign of the duke. Unbidden disappointment traced through her, replaced quickly by determination. She would find him and demand an audience.

If necessary, she would kidnap him.

She pivoted, just as the line of carriages peeked out from behind a copse of trees. The coachmen were not on their perches, but grouped together in lively discussion, paying no attention to their vehicles. Slowly, she slunk towards the luxurious Foxworth carriage. As she neared, it rocked.

She smiled. Her instincts had been correct.

In seconds she reached the carriage. The door opened, and her smile froze.

“Good evening, my lady.” The man’s smile was chilling and cold, filled with unmistakable malice. Of course, the last time she’d seen him he was kidnapping Edmund.

She turned to flee…

Someone grabbed her.

Kenneth had been wrong.

So very wrong.

Bradenton was not the monster he perceived. The evidence had seemed undeniable, the truth irrefutable, with his father’s journal and the man of business’ claims. Yet an elementary investigation revealed the associate had been stealing from his father for years and had set up Bradenton to divert attention from his crimes. As for the journal, it was as much fiction as the romantic tales his sister read. He’d asked multiple people, and every single account differed from his father’s renderings.

He hadn’t been able to ascertain any additional information about the duel, yet after all he’d learned, his father’s account was clearly prejudiced. Tonight, he would ask Bradenton for an explanation.

Before he offered for Sophia.

He would try the traditional method one last time, armed not with anger and revenge, but logic and reason. For he now knew why he ignored the evidence, shunned further investigation. The kidnapping was never truly about Bradenton.

It was always about Sophia.

She’d ensnared him the moment she poked him in the chest, challenging a man twice her size to protect her brother. She captivated him as she defended those she loved, championing justice. She was intelligent and brave, caring and giving.

How he loved her.

When he finally shattered the wall guarding his heart, the emotions had been tremendous, breathtaking, all-encompassing. She was beautiful, not only on the outside, but on the inside as well. She was unconditional kindness, quiet grace, fierce cleverness, feminine strength – he loved all of her, with all that he was.

Tonight he would reveal the truth of his feelings. For the first time, he would share his true emotions, allow himself to be vulnerable. He would do it for no other.

For Sophia, he would do anything.

Hopefully Bradenton would accept his offer. More likely, he would attempt to run him through with his sword. Would he really blame him? After all, he had wronged Bradenton, not the other way around.

He would make it right, or at least he would try. And if it didn’t work…

He could always kidnap her.

Before he revealed the truth, he had to destroy the danger that stalked him. It was why he roamed the garden, setting himself as bait for his would-be attackers. This time he would not be caught unaware.

He was also not alone. All night, someone had watched him. Adam’s contacts, he presumed, who would take the criminals into custody.

Unfortunately his search had proved fruitless. He’d even traveled to the street, strode up and down the empty pathways, yet there was no sight of the tenacious criminals. He returned to the line of carriages, when he heard a noise next to his carriage.

His lips curved into a slow smile. It had to be the criminals, poised to ambush him. He touched the smooth handle of his gun as he stepped silently over a dip. He reached for the door.

He yanked it open, aimed his gun, yet only darkness and shadows greeted him, with no telltale breathing of hidden criminals. He stepped into the carriage.

The door slammed shut behind him.

He pivoted, but it was too late. He pushed and pulled, but the door was secured from the outside. He slammed his whole body against it…

The carriage sprang into motion.

Kenneth grabbed the seat to keep from falling. Fury came, yet not fear; undoubtedly Adam’s friends would capture them within seconds. Yet as the seconds and then minutes passed, it became ever-increasingly clear he was on his own.

Time to fight back.

He evaluated his surroundings, the carriage he’d reinforced to avoid a break in, not knowing he would need to break out. His gaze caught on the window. It was too small to fit through. Unless…

He grasped the curved metal frame. With brute strength, he pushed the sharp edges, harder as a heavy creak sounded. The metal gave under his hands, twisting and turning, slicing into his palms. He sucked in a breath of humid air streaming through the now open window.

They were rolling through a darkened alley, a location bustling during the day, now quiet with darkness’ ascension. The horses’ hooves beat against the ground in a steady rhythm, with a more measured gait than before. They were slowing.

Time was up. Grasping the twisted metal frame, he pulled his upper body through the window. A single cloaked figure sat at the top, clutching the reins. The others were likely at their destination, which, by the ever-slowing pace of the carriage, was imminent.

He did not hesitate. Did not wait for the carriage to stop. He grabbed both sides of the window, pulled the rest of his body out…

And leapt.

He landed in the seat above, next to the villain who would dare kidnap a duke. A voluminous black cloak completely covered the rogue, a low-slung hat hiding all facial features. Kenneth grasped the reins with one hand and his captor with the other. The man was far smaller than he first appeared, as he easily contained his struggles.

He stopped the horses and pivoted to the criminal. He swept back the hood.

The world tilted.

“Sophia?”