The Duke's Hellion Read online

  "Now write as I say. I am being held captured by a band of men in the high caves. They say they will not hurt me if you return a sum of..."

  Georgiana dutifully wrote the words Oxley dictated to her, but her eye was on the revolver on the table. Perhaps it wasn't even loaded. Could she fend him off with one hand? Could she hold it on him while he untied her?

  Between one word and the next, he gave her a hefty clout on the head. For a moment, she saw stars, and he growled at her like an animal.

  "Take your eyes off the shooter. You couldn't pull the trigger anyway."

  Georgiana tasted blood where her lip had split and bowed her head to the ransom note again. She had never really hated someone before, not even when she got the first letter from Oxley, but now she most certainly did.

  When the note was done, Oxley bent over closer to her to read it. She saw him mouthing the words to make sure she had not added anything, and she knew she had no other option but to strike.

  She dropped the quill and raked her fingernails across his face. He howled like a struck dog, satisfying, but a moment later, she saw that she had not hurt him, only enraged him.

  "You ruddy bitch!"

  Oxley's fist came up, and a growl like that of a wild animal filled the room as the door slammed open.

  "Don't touch her!"

  Georgiana turned to see Tristan in the doorway, silhouetted against the moonlight for just a moment before he lunged for Oxley.

  "Tristan!"

  Tristan bore Oxley down, slamming him against the wooden floor. He slammed his fist into Oxley's face once, and then again, but before Georgiana could shout a warning, Oxley had picked up a length of wood from the broken floor and brought it down on Tristan's arm.

  Then the man was up, murder in his eye, and Georgiana's heart almost stopped in her chest.

  * * *

  Chapter 41

  The Fox Hall carriage was stopped in front of the cottage at the end of the dirt lane, and Tristan silently dismounted when he drew close. He walked toward the windowless cottage as softly as he could, but from the voices inside, he could tell he was not going to be heard. One of the voices was Georgiana's, and after saying a silent prayer in thanks for her safety, he turned his thoughts toward mayhem for the man who held her.

  He winced when Georgiana told Oxley he wouldn't come, and he waited on tenterhooks for a chance, even a slender one. When Oxley shouted with pain, he knew that was his chance, perhaps his only chance.

  Now he lay on the ground as Oxley rose above him. The man was stronger than he was, and he landed a hefty kick on Tristan's ribs.

  "Damn you! Damn you, all you had to do was pay!"

  Tristan groaned with pain, but pushed past it, throwing himself up at Oxley before he could slam his makeshift club against him again.

  They slammed each other into the wall, so matched for strength they could not seem to get the upper hand. Oxley was snarling like an animal now, and Tristan was sure he was not much better. All that mattered right now was utterly destroying the man who had hurt Georgiana, who had dared lay hands on what belonged to Tristan.

  Tristan could feel himself slowly but surely losing ground. He had ridden all night, and no matter how strong he was, Oxley still seemed to be stronger. The man knew he was fighting for his life, and his blows fell like lightning.

  Finally, Tristan knocked him to the ground, and he lay still. After kicking the man to make sure that he was out cold, Tristan turned to Georgiana. His heart ached at how small she looked lashed to the chair, and the bruise on the side of her face filled him with a type of fury he had never known before.

  "Are you all right? Here, let me..."

  Tristan's mouth went dry when Georgiana stood up from the chair, the revolver in her hand. Despite the slight tremor he could see rocking her body, her eyes were steel.

  "I think not."

  "Georgiana?"

  "Step aside, Tristan."

  Automatically, Tristan did as she said, and to his shock, he saw that Oxley had risen silently behind him, the slat of wood in his hand again.

  "Put it down, or I swea, I will kill you."

  With a snarl, Oxley did as she said.

  Georgiana spoke without turning away from her tormentor.

  "Tristan. Tie him up. Please."

  Wordlessly, Tristan did as she said, binding Oxley with the same ropes that had held Georgiana. He trussed the man up and left him on the floor, and only then did he see that Georgiana had not dropped the point of the revolver, keeping it trained on the now tied man.

  "Do you have any idea what you did to me? Do you have any idea how the last few weeks almost broke me?"

  Tristan could hear it now, all the fear and pain she had carefully dammed back, rushing out when it was all over.

  "I should shoot you. Then you would never hurt anyone like that again, would you?"

  Oxley moaned in response, but Tristan paid no attention to him.

  "Georgiana, darling, I swear to you, he will never hurt anyone again. He will be spending the rest of his life in a very dark cell. Please. Give me the gun."

  "Tristan, what if he gets out? What if he does it again?"

  "He won't, darling. Please. You don't want to do this. He already changed your life. Don't let him alter it further."

  For a moment, Tristan thought Georgiana wouldn't listen. He couldn't blame her, and he didn't think anyone would, but he knew from letters with Ned that bullets could not be unfired, and that killing someone changed you in ways nothing else could.

  Finally, Georgiana let the muzzle of the revolver drop, and Tristan took it from her. She slumped against him as if she had been awake for days, and Tristan held her tight. Some part of him had been afraid that he would never be able to do this again, and now that she was back in her arms, he never wanted to let her go.

  She laughed, a hoarse little sound that was almost like a sob. "Restraint in the face of fury. I am becoming a Carrow."

  "Well, I raced off in the middle of the night on a vague chance of finding you, so I suppose you Martins are rubbing off on me."

  * * *

  They rode double on Tristan's fresh horse after stopping by the local town to tell the constables what had happened. Men were dispatched to collect Oxley and given strict instructions to send everything that happened with him to the Duke of Parrington. The official story was that Tristan's servant had gone mad and kidnapped the Martin heiress. Tristan guessed that nothing the man had to say about what had happened after would be believed.

  Dawn was just beginning to crest the horizon when they came to Fox Hall. As Tristan and Georgiana came up the drive, Honey came rushing out to meet them.

  Georgiana blinked awake from her half-sleep, and with Tristan's help, she slid to the ground.

  "Oh, Honey, were you worried about me? I'm fine, see?"

  "Oh, Lady Georgiana, I thank goodness that you are all right, but you must come at once!"

  The terror in the young maid's face made Tristan’s hackles rise. He had thought he had nothing left after fighting Oxley and riding all night, but something in him still rose up to protect Georgiana and always would.

  Georgiana, despite her ordeal, stood up a little straighter, and took Honey by the arms. "Honey, what is it?"

  "It is your father, my lady. A few hours ago, a terrible spell came over him and he fell to the floor. The doctor is with him now."

  Georgiana swore a most unladylike oath and ran up the stairs. Tristan threw his exhausted mount's reins to a waiting stable boy and followed.

  He remembered what he had said to the Duke of Southerly before he left to find Georgiana, and he felt a deep chill come over his bones.

  * * *

  Chapter 42

  Georgiana looked up as the door opened and felt another deep stab of disappointment that it was not Tristan. She still managed to find a smile for Honey, however, as the girl bustled in with a covered tray. At Honey's inquiring look at the curtained bed at the far end of the master bedroo
m, Georgiana shook her head.

  "He's sleeping fairly hard, Honey, I wouldn't worry about waking him up. And thank you for the food, but I'm not very hungry."

  Honey's face took on an uncharacteristically stern aspect, and she set the tray down on the desk in front of Georgiana anyway.

  "Well, just sit with it then, my lady. You should eat it sooner or later."

  Georgiana sighed. Honey was right. She had downed a sandwich while the doctor was still there, explaining what had happened to her father, but there had been very little besides water and some crackers in the twenty-four hours after that.

  "Will he be all right, do you think?"

  Georgiana shrugged. "The doctor is very hopeful, but Father has not been strong for quite some time. His heart, no matter how strong it is, well, it is as old as the rest of him, and he had suffered quite a fright on my behalf."

  Honey's eyes grew wide. "You must not think that any of this is your fault, my lady! It was all on account of that terrible man."

  It was too much to explain to Honey that yes, it was her fault. Perhaps there was no single action that she could blame for where they were now, but at the end of the day, it was hard to think that her restlessness had not at least contributed to her father's current state.

  "Thank you, Honey. You should make sure you are getting food yourself, and some more sleep as well."

  As Honey headed for the door, however, Georgiana found that she could not help herself.

  "Honey, how is the Duke of Parrington faring? I mean, Oxley dealt him several blows..."

  Honey glanced back at her with an expression that Georgiana could only read as complicated.

  "Well, he traveled back to Holton, where Oxley is being held. He was going to make sure that everything there was all right."

  "Well, that's good, I suppose..."

  "He had Vexley pack all his things, however, and I believe he means to return to London after he has done so."

  "Oh. Thank you, Honey."

  Her maid left, and with her father sleeping a drugged sleep just a dozen feet from where she sat, Georgiana felt exhausted tears well up in her eyes.

  * * *

  Two days later, Georgiana woke up from a light and fitful nap on the cot she had brought to her father's room to hear her father's cane hit the ground, followed by a stream of irritated swears.

  "Father! The doctor said that you were not to move around without aid!"

  Her father shot her an irritated glance. "He didn't tell me any such thing."

  "Well, you were unconscious for a while, and you've been sleeping for two days. How do you feel?"

  To Georgiana's relief, her father fell back against the pillows. She came to sit beside him, pouring him a small glass of water and ringing the bell. When the maid appeared, she sent her for broth.

  "Never get old, my girl. It is a terrible thing."

  "I imagine it beats the alternative."

  "Well, you would say that when you are, what, twenty? Twenty-two?"

  "Twenty-five in just a few months, Father."

  "Time slips away fast."

  Georgiana said nothing. For all he was so weak, there was something almost pleasant about speaking with her father like this, without the recriminations that had marred so many of their interactions.

  "We have not seen eye to eye very much in recent years, have we, Georgiana?"

  "I suppose not, Father."

  "And at the crux of it, we have the Carrows."

  "They are not so bad as—"

  Georgiana flinched as her father brought his hand down hard on the table by his bed. The movement spoke of fury and violence, but it also seemed to tire him out. He shook his head, looking old and weary as he rested against the pillows.

  "You will not defend them in this house. The honor of the Martins is without reproach, and Carrows insult it with every breath they take."

  "But why? Father, no one has ever told me what they did, or why we hate them so. All I have ever heard is how different they are from us. And they are different, but Tristan saved my life, Father. He rescued me, even after I have hurt him so much. Please. Surely, that means something to you?"

  Her father looked at her closely, and no matter how weak he was, there was still that dreadful sharpness in his gaze, the cutting look that could stab right through her.

  "By all that is good in the whole world.. You're in love with him."

  Georgiana stared, but at this point, she didn’t fear the truth anymore. "I do. For a long time now."

  They sat with that truth for several moments, and Peter Martin finally bowed his head.

  "I will not bless that union. I do not have it in me. Some things are eternal, and this feud is one of them. There are some things I will not forgive."

  "Father?"

  "We are not so very different, but perhaps that is why we were never able to get on. If you want to run and chase your damned Carrow, do so. I will not stop you. And while you are with him, you are no daughter of mine."

  "Father, you cannot—"

  "But if you come without him, you will always be welcome here. No matter what name you take, Martin blood runs in your veins."

  Georgiana stifled a sob that welled up in her chest. There was joy mixed with a terrible sorrow, and she knew there were some trees that could only bend so much before they broke. This was the most her father could bear, and she was oddly grateful.

  "I understand, Father. I love you."

  "Go in peace, daughter. I love you as well."

  Georgiana sat with him until he fell asleep, and after he started to snore, she leaned up to kiss his forehead. She knew acutely that she might never see him again while he lived, and her heart ached at that.

  However, she was also enough of a Martin to know that she had to follow her heart, and right now, her heart was in London.

  * * *

  Chapter 43

  Tristan was a little startled to see how quickly life went back to normal. It was terrible in some ways and empty in the rest. There were times, while he was pacing at Fox Hall or running after Georgiana, when he thought he would have given anything in the world to simply be back in London living his life.

  Standing at the window of his residence on Grosvenor Street, Tristan had to laugh at himself. Apparently, even in his mind, he did not care to be honest.

  Well, tell the truth and shame the devil, then. As long as I was with Georgiana, I could have been on the moon and not given a damn about what came next.

  Leaving her behind at Fox Hall was one of the hardest things he had ever done. However, he knew what he had said to the elder Martin, and he knew that if the old man died, there was no one in the world to bear that blame but him. It was a blame he would shoulder entirely if there was a chance it would stay off of Georgiana.

  He’d had some vague idea that if he left, it would give her time to see to her father, to mourn if he had to and to be furious with him if she needed to be. Now that Tristan was back in London, however, he knew it had been cowardice. He didn't want to see Georgiana give him a sweet look and a thank you after everything they had been through together. He didn't want to see her slip from his life as if they had never been together at all.

  Tristan thought that leaving early would fix some of that, but still, his heart throbbed as if it was in pain every night, and whenever he saw a blonde woman on the street, he had to turn to see if it was Georgiana. It never was, and he thought that if this was the fate he was condemned to, it might have been better to let Oxley smash his brains out.

  There was a soft ring downstairs, and Tristan couldn't stop himself from hoping it was her.

  The butler appeared at the door, face impassive.

  "My lord, Lady Ashby has stopped by for a social call."

  Tristan blinked at that. "By all means, show her in."

  He met her in the drawing room, where she had pulled back her black veil and was nibbling some excellent tea cakes.

  "Morgan. I didn't think you ever came to L
ondon."

  She offered him a slight smile. "I don't... but, well, things change, don't they?"

  "You're being elusive."

  "I suppose I am. But once I know for sure what is happening, you and Ned and Blythe will be the first to know. Things are possible which were not so much before."

  Tristan watched her closely for a moment, and he wondered if there was something more vibrant to her spare beauty, whether there was a soft blush to her pale cheeks. "Well, I hope these possibilities are good ones."

  "I do as well. I had heard you were in town, back from Devonshire. I wanted to say hello, and to see how things were with you and the Martin's little hellion."

  Tristan started to shrug it off, but somehow, the entire story came spilling out. He talked until his throat was sore, and it only occurred to him belatedly how very much he was telling her. A woman of the ton might have been scandalized by his actions and Georgiana's.

  Morgan only nodded, a deep well of sympathy in her eyes.

  "That poor girl. I had no idea."

  "I think she would hate being called that. She's so very proud."

  "A good match for you, then."

  "No match at all. I cannot think she wants to see me after—"

  "After you rescued her? After you protected her?"

  Tristan shook his head. "You don't understand."

  "No, I don't think you do. Go to her. Do not waste your life on what-ifs. If she only wishes to thank you, at least you will know that. And if she loves you as much as you obviously love her? What then?'

  "Then I will give her anything she wants for the rest of her life."

  Morgan laughed. "You know? I think she wants the disagreements instead, all the places where you will fight her, and the sweet places where you don't. But I do have business in town, and without Blythe here, it's really a bit too scandalous for me to visit, isn't it? I should be on my way."