Page 21 of Unraveled by the Duke (Scandalous Duchesses #1)

A urelia was running from the shadows towards the path. She collided with Celia. At first, she screamed in fright. Then, she collapsed into her sister’s arms, sobbing.

A man emerged behind her. He was young, but perhaps five years older than her. His jaw was square, and his nose bold. He was handsome, but that was marred by the ugly anger that animated his features.

“Whatever is happening here?” Celia demanded.

“That little minx assaulted me!” the young man spat. “I will thrash her to within an inch of her life!”

He raised a hand, and Celia pushed Aurelia behind her immediately. It left her exposed and vulnerable as the larger man advanced, his fists clenched and one raised.

A dark shape suddenly bolted past her, blocking her view of the man. His raised fist was locked in a fearsome grip. Alexander’s other hand curled around the man’s throat and almost lifted him off his feet.

He tossed the man back without any apparent effort.

“I will not restrain myself if you harm one hair on either of their heads!” he snarled, hurling the man bodily into the nearest hedge.

“Who are you?” the man demanded in a tone of injured pride.

Others were paying attention now, and someone came running at the sound of the scream. No, not someone, but more than one person.

“I am the Duke of Cheverton. Who are you, rogue?” Alexander growled.

The man hauled himself out of the hedge, straightening his clothes and keeping a cautious distance from Alexander’s anger. “That whore made promises to me,” he hissed, pointing at Aurelia.

“I did not! You heard promises that I would never make. You told me you loved me!” she cried.

Celia tried to hush her, aware of how many people could hear them now. If they saw Aurelia’s face, it did not bear thinking about. She pulled her into the shadows, keeping herself between the gathering crowd and her sister—or trying to.

Alexander lunged at the man with an enraged snarl and grabbed him by the collar. So desperate was the bastard to escape that his collar ripped free of his shirt.

“You will regret this when my father hears of it, Cheverton!” the man spat. “You think your title is your shield? Not when your name is on my father’s books.”

“Threaten me again, cur, and regret it for the rest of your life!” Alexander roared.

The man retreated a few paces as though to distance himself from Alexander’s rage.

Alexander stood in defense of Celia and Aurelia, as unyielding as the Tower of London, his fists clenched and ready for battle. His opponent licked his lips and seemed to find courage in the distance between them.

“You know my father well, or should. Sir Nathaniel Grimaire. You owe him a lot, Cheverton. You will rue the day you crossed me , Phillip Grimaire. As will that chit!”

He turned and strode away, shoving aside anyone who got in his way with oaths and snarls.

Alexander turned to Celia and Aurelia. He went to them and wrapped his arms around them both.

Celia immediately felt safe in his embrace.

She was conscious of how much strength those arms held.

How much resolve the mind that controlled them contained.

Surely no one could hurt them while Alexander stood as their bulwark.

“He is gone. A rogue of the worst order,” he whispered.

“Oh, Celia! I have been such a fool! Whatever will Papa and Mama think!” Aurelia wailed.

Celia hugged her sister fiercely. “What happened, Aurelia? How did you come here? Are Mama and Papa here, too?”

Aurelia shook her head. “I sneaked out with Lavinia. She said it would be an adventure. But I lost her in the crowd, and then I met Phillip. And he has always been so kind to me. So gentlemanly. He said he had seen her coming out here and then…” She dissolved into tears.

Alexander looked around suddenly, and Celia felt him tense. “This is not the place for this conversation. We must leave before the entire Assembly Rooms come here to see what the commotion is about,” he said urgently.

To her dismay, Celia thought she heard anger in his voice.

“This is not my sister’s fault,” she whispered fiercely.

“I did not say that it was. Nevertheless, we are in grave danger as we stand here. The more people who gather, the less chance we will get out of here with our reputations intact. We must go!”

“Your Grace!” Archie Wainwright was pushing his way through the throng that had gathered at the doors leading into the Assembly Rooms.

A growing hubbub of gossip was filling the air, but as of yet, no one was close enough to see who lurked in the shadows.

“There is a back way out. Few know of it, but it pays to know of such things in my profession,” he said as he neared the three.

Alexander bared his teeth in a silent snarl, then nodded his head ferociously—a lion roused to anger. “Show us the way, Wainwright, and be quick about it!”

Celia recognized the young man and his name; it was the same one who had asked for her next dance and been spurned so jealously by Alexander.

“Who is this?” she asked as they followed him into the darkness.

“A friend,” Wainwright said, glancing over his shoulder at her.

“An employee,” Alexander corrected. “A former employee.”

“And one who is conscious of what is best for your good names at this point. Once, it would have worked to our favor to step fully into the light back there and be seen by all. But I think you are looking for a different outcome this time, Your Grace?”

Celia did not understand anything the man was saying, but she recognized his accent. She had once heard a man giving a talk on art. A man from across the Atlantic.

“You’re American!” she gasped.

“Yes, ma’am. New York, actually. My grandfather fought with the loyalists, and I ended up an Englishman. But then I spent many years in America. Enough to pick up the accent,” Wainwright explained.

“She doesn’t need to know you, and you don’t need to know her,” Alexander grunted.

“No, Your Grace. Just getting acquainted. My business is people, after all.”

“And what business is that?” Celia asked.

“Enough!” Alexander snapped. “Here is a gate. This is the way out?”

Without waiting for the affirmative, he wrenched it open and looked outside.

Celia whispered to her sister, watching as Wainwright slipped out after Alexander. Then, he motioned for the two women to follow.

They found themselves in a cobbled alley. Alexander stood at the end, waving down a cab. Celia urged Aurelia to run with her, Wainwright following behind.

At the end of the alley was a wider street. Alexander was holding open the door of a carriage. Celia helped Aurelia inside, and Alexander followed. He slammed the door shut in Wainwright’s face.

“I will be in touch, Your Grace,” the man said with an insouciant grin.