Page 98 of Wedded to the Cruel Duke
Charles recalled seeing the fluttering piece of linen just outside her window and guessed correctly that she must have attempted to use the covers as a makeshift rope. His wife was an insanely brilliant and courageous woman. Not many ladies of thetonwould have the presence of mind to be able to engineer an escape attempt the way she did.
“All right,” he told her gently. “We can go slowly, but we must be quiet, lest we attract the attention of the other guards.”
She nodded and squeezed his hand. “All right.” She inhaled a deep breath. “Let’s go.”
They crept out of the hallway silently, with Charles leading the way and Phoebe trailing soundlessly behind him, her hand grasped securely in his. One time, a footman passed by and they had to press themselves back into a shadowed corner.
They managed to make their way down the stairs, nearing the corridor to their escape, when, from behind them, came the faint click of a pistol.
“I knew you were going to attempt something,” a familiar voice sneered. “But I never thought you would be so bold as to break into my house.Your Grace.”
Charles spun around instantly and glared at the Baron, who was holding a pistol aimed at both himself and Phoebe. With a swipe of the arm, he put Phoebe behind him. “I could say the same of you—kidnapping another man’s wife.Really, Scunthorpe, are you so desperate for familial affection?”
Charles knew better than to push a man who seemingly had nothing to lose. But he was also more than well aware of what was needed at this moment.
“She wassupposedto be mine!” he roared, his hand trembling as he trained the pistol on Charles’ forehead. His eyes were wild with rage. “When that senseless spinster handed me that journal of hers, I had planned everything perfectly to theT.If she was ruined, she would be forced to marryme, but you just had to get in the way, didn’t you, Wentworth! Why couldn’t you just stay in your damned hiding!”
“So it was you!” Phoebe shouted indignantly from behind Charles. “You were the one behind the scandal sheets?”
“I own a printing press, amongst many other investments, my dear,” the Baron grinned manically. “It was a very little thing to have it printed and disseminated amongst theton, really.”
Charles could not help but sigh inwardly at the Baron’s rather convoluted plan to get the woman he wanted to marry him. Or rather,forcethe woman he wanted to marry him.
A pity that even then, Phoebe and her family did not even consider marrying her off to her most persistent suitor to salvage her reputation at the cost of her lifelong happiness.
“Now, my dear,” the Baron sneered. “Why don’t you go back up to your lovely quarters while I take care of your darling Duke?”
Charles saw Phoebe bristling at the corner of his eyes and felt his heart bloom with pride at her sheer courage.
“I will do no such thing!” she declared.
But the Baron, being the one with the pistol, was not one to take ‘no’ for an answer. He turned his attention towards Charles, but trained his pistol on Phoebe.
“Tell her, Your Grace,” he muttered in a darker tone. “If she does not come back with me, then I have no qualms in using… force.”
He was threatening to hurt her just so Charles would concede! The man was an absolute lunatic!
But Phoebe’s safety had always been of paramount importance to Charles. He would risk everything,anything, if it would keep her safe.
Slowly, Charles tucked a hand into his pocket, a gesture catching Scunthorpe’s eyes and having the pistol immediately aimed back at himself. He held his other hand up in peace, before casually taking out his pocket watch and watching as the hands ticked by.
Gently, he released his wife’s hand.
“Go,” he urged her, his voice infinitely tender.
Phoebe’s eyes widened in confusion. She started to shake her head frantically, but his firm gaze told her that it was for the best.
After a heartbeat, her eyes glazed over with tears as she hung her head and walked over to the Baron’s side without a word.
Lord Scunthorpe smiled viciously, his pistol unwavering. “Do you see, Phoebe? This is why you should stay with me—I would never be so cowardly as to give you up.”
“You are mad,” she told him hoarsely. “Lord Scunthorpe, you have gone mad.”
The Baron merely shrugged. “If it means that I am mad for you, then what do I care? I am more a man than this poor excuse of a Duke that you married.”
He waved the gun at Charles, who simply clutched at the pocket watch in his hand, muttering under his breath.
“What is that, Your Grace?” the Baron taunted him. “Are these your last words?”