Page 37 of The Virgin Duchess (Unwanted Brides #2)

Chapter Thirty-Four

P ain reverberated through Frederick’s head as consciousness greeted him once more. Dull aches permeated the rest of his body. Wait, no, it was only on the left side. He groaned, more of his thoughts righting themselves, and Frederick realized that he was lying on a rough floor.

Pushing up, he fought the need to retch as his head spun. When at last he was seated, Frederick looked around him. He was in some dark building, the interior mostly empty and looking rather abandoned.

“Christ Almighty, my head is splitting.”

“I assure you, it is the least of your concerns.”

Frederick’s stomach sank. He knew that voice well. It was the Baron, and as his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, he saw the dark shape of his figure standing across the room from him.

The click of the man’s shoes echoed in the empty space as he turned and faced Frederick, steadily approaching. Frederick straightened even more, noting that his pistol remained tucked into the back of his trousers.

“You just couldn’t let it be, could you?” Halfacre shook his head as he stepped into the light that streamed inside from one of the dingy windows. “I was well on my way out of the country. I would have been happy enough to have left London to the rest and continued about my business elsewhere.”

“And let you abscond to Scotland where you might pull your tricks on some other unsuspecting young lady? No, I think I prefer you here so that I might ensure you never do such a thing again.”

Halfacre crossed the remaining feet that separated them in a flash, pulling his hand back to strike Frederick before he had the opportunity to react.

“And I should like to hear you beg for mercy,” Halfacre glared, reaching into his breast pocket and producing a small blade, “ Your Grace .”

The sneer Halfacre offered was pure venom, and though Frederick would have liked to stand up from the filthy ground, he waited. It would take the right moment to get out of this situation unscathed.

“I would have returned your precious Rose to you. After a time, and the two of you could go about your miserable lives.”

Rage simmered in Frederick’s blood, and he clenched his jaw, the bones and muscles aching for how Halfacre had struck him.

“How did you even catch wind of her? She was never one to partake in the revelries of the ton, keeping to herself. Why did Rose even enter your considerations for a bride?”

Halfacre glared at him, but the tinge of sarcastic amusement lit up his stare, and he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“You are such a fool, aren’t you?” Shaking his head, the Baron began to pace in front of Frederick, back and forth over the floor that was matted with grime and dirt. “A gaming hell is a fine investment. Popular among the majority of men regardless of class. Still, perhaps its best use is to gain information. There is little that is said within the walls of a hell that isn’t heard by someone. And all that information can be obtained for a price. As you’ve seen.”

Turning to Frederick once more, Halfacre took his knife and twirled it against his fingertip, his touch light as to not cut himself.

“I own several debts. Men losing their family fortunes to my gaming hell. But there is little good in money that can never be repaid. However, knowledge is always beneficial. When some poor sap cannot put forth what I am owed, I can take payment in the form of information. And information about your precious Rose was among that which I procured.”

Hearing Halfacre pontificate endlessly about how brilliant he was grated against Frederick’s nerves like a jagged blade. But it was serving his ends. The man was distracted from Frederick’s position, and the Duke began to pull himself up to stand slowly as the man droned on.

“I had thought it would be utterly unhelpful—until I heard that Rose was a bit of a recluse, not interested in the drums and parties of the ladies around her. It appeared that the young woman did not believe herself to be valuable to a suitor, or some the rumors went, and she had never been properly courted. The perfect target for my endeavors.”

Frederick’s foot scraped along the ground as he angled it behind himself, and he froze, waiting to see if the Baron had noticed. While the bastard did pause, it appeared to be simply a break to allow himself to catch his breath. The egotistical cretin certainly loved the sound of his own voice.

“Your sweet Rose, the perfect wife—at least for a time. At least until I got what I came for.”

“Which was?”

Wincing, Frederick regretted speaking as soon as the words had left his mouth. Still, the gleam in Halfacre’s eyes spoke only of utter delight with himself.

“Why, money, of course. It’s that what we all want? A way to give ourselves the lives we deserve.” Frederick glared, and Halfacre only scoffed, waving him off. “Please. At least I wasn’t looking for what you have been so avid about, according to those rumors, of course. Or would you have preferred me to be looking to sink my prick in your sister’s pocket?”

Frederick lashed out, unable to control himself, and as soon as he was up in the Baron’s face, the man’s knife came to Frederick’s chin, forcing him to stop short.

“Ah, ah, ah. Wouldn’t want to test my patience. I assure you that I have no issue with using this. I have had to set many affairs to rightsan up many a , and you will only be the most recent addition to the list.”

The truth of Halfacre’s words hit Frederick like a punch to the gut. He’d killed. There was no mistaking the tone and meaning behind his words. Frederick’s stomach roiled, and the idea that he had nearly allowed his sister to be seduced by a murderer snaked through his veins like poison.

“But then what do you go and do, hmm?” Halfacre pressed the knife into Frederick’s skin, and he could feel the moment it punctured his skin, a warm trickle of blood leaking out. “You went and spread word of my business all through the ton. It reached me all the way at the border, and I knew, I just knew, that you had ruined my chances to find another bride.”

The composed look of mild annoyance changed on Halfacre’s face until he stared Frederick down with the raw ire of a man gone mad with rage.

“I do think,” he pressed on his knife, forcing a hiss from the Duke, “ punishment is required for that. Don’t you…Frederick!?”

His last word was a scream, and the simple act of raising his voice sent a shiver through Frederick’s spine. This man was so much more unhinged than he had predicted. Frederick needed to get away from him, just far enough back so that he could pull his pistol and be done with this.

An idea struck, and as much as Frederick didn’t like it, he suspected that it was his best bet. So, steeling himself, he prepared himself for the worst.

“You want to know what I think,” Frederick ran a disapproving glare up and down the Baron, “ Thomas? I think you are too much of an inept coward to do anything better with your life than con ladies out of their money. You’re pathetic, and you should be living your life with the scum of the earth behind bars where you belong.”

Quick as a bolt of lightning and just a fierce, Halfacre reared his hand back only to bring it back down again across Frederick’s face. The blow was a fiery crack against his skin, and Fredrick allowed himself to fall backward, tumbling over the ground end over end.

Still, he’d done it. He got what he needed to potentially survive this situation. With distance between them, Frederick pulled out his pistol and pointed it directly at the Baron as he came charging forward.

Halfacre pulled up short, skidding to a stop as his eyes flared wide. That stare landed on the gun in Frederick’s hand, and he sneered at him, the disbelief and fury making the whites of Halfacre’s eyes bloodshot.

“My, my, my. And what do we have here? The Duke of Mullens has pulled a firearm on me. Rather prepared for the situation, weren’t you? Did you seek me out to shoot me, Frederick?”

Glaring, Frederick didn’t falter, holding the pistol steady, leveled with the Baron’s heart. He stood up from the ground, never taking his eyes off Halfacre.

“I had not intended to shoot you, but I was prepared to do so. As I am now.” Frederick clenched his jaw, the anger and grief he felt over his sister’s nearly devastating encounter with the man fresh in his mind. “You sought to ruin her. You were going to leave my sister destitute and without the potential to get married. And for what? Money? You are a cad, a rogue. You are a bastard as sure as any.”

Halfacre spit on the ground, the globule landing too near Frederick’s shoe.

“Then go ahead. Shoot. Rid the world of my presence. At least I shall no longer be forced to endure the tiresome torment of your incessant sniveling and pitiable existence."

Frederick took a step forward, then another and another. He pressed the barrel of the pistol to Halfacre’s forehead and gripped the man’s shirt, glaring down at him.

“I should. I should rid the world of you. It would be better off.”

Silence hung around them, still enough to hear a pin drop. Everything inside Frederick burned, this growing, infectious anger demanding that he eliminate the Baron and save other women like Rose the misfortune of meeting him.

But he couldn’t.

“I am not a monster, Halfacre. I am not like you.” Frederick stepped back. “But my patience is not infinite. Get out of town. Go as far away as you can, and if I so much as hear the inkling that you have returned, that you are up no good, I will find you, and I will kill you.”

Halfacre eyed him, unmoving. Frederick pointed the pistol at the ground, firing next to the Baron’s foot.

“Don’t test me, Thomas. I have shown you mercy, but it can change in a blink. That was hardly my only shot.”

Stepping back, his hands up in the air in surrender, Halfacre turned down the corners of his mouth, appraising Frederick.

“I will admit,” he began, still slowly creeping backward, “I am impressed you had the gall to take it this far. I will leave.”

Frederick didn’t respond, only watching the Baron slip further into the darkness. Some of the tension pinching down on Frederick’s spine loosened, and the pain swelling through his body was suddenly so loud. His vision had been blurring ever so slightly, and it picked up—more and more with each retreating step the Baron took.

I am wavering. I shall not be able to stand much longer.

It was a thought that sent a shiver down Frederick’s spine. He had not realized how much he had been injured, too distracted by the events going on around him. But focusing on the sensation of his body, Frederick could feel the dizziness in his head and the weakness in his arms and legs.

“Hang on, Freddie. Hang on,” he whispered to himself, using that dreadful nickname his father always used.

Halfacre was nearly invisible in the shadows once again, and Frederick began to relax his arm. It dropped to his side harsher than he wanted, and after a few more seconds, Frederick hung his head, his stance wavering a bit more.

Crack .

Something snapped behind him, and Frederick spun on his heel, trying to raise the gun up. His wrist was stopped midair, and a hot, direct pinch landed in his stomach, far off to the left side.

“It really is hard to concentrate with a head injury, isn’t it?” Halfacre must’ve circled around the room in the shadows, and his knife was buried in Frederick’s side. “Poor Frederick. I do hope that your little wife is relieved to be free of you at last.”

Dread and sweat washed over him. Frederick could feel his temperature spike abruptly, the pain in his side getting worse as the Baron held his blade shoved into him.

“Frederick!”

The sound of a familiar feminine voice cut through the haze, and the Duke snapped his attention to the door off to the side. Coming out from the shadows at a dead run was Charlotte.

How in the hell…

“Get away from him!” Frederick knew that voice as well, recognizing that Rose was there.

No, no, no. He’ll kill them.

Frederick yanked his arm free, letting it drop so that the butt of the pistol smashed down on Halfacre’s head. He dropped like a stone, and Frederick collapsed to the floor right along with him.

Everything was a haze of awful pain and blurred surrounding at that point. In some amount of time, Charlotte and Rose were at his side, and Frederick reached up to his wife’s face, the sight of her enough to make him weep.

“Frederick! Frederick, hang on! Help!” Charlotte’s light voice echoed off the walls of the empty building.

He tried. He truly tried to listen to her command, but Frederick’s head lulled to the side, and everything went black.