Avery circled, maintaining the distance between them. His nerves fired with alarm as he stared down his past in the form of a tall, thin, and cruel man. Prachett had loaned him funds when he’d had nothing, but Avery had paid sorely for that loan. Only the duke’s mercy had rescued him from an early death in the boxing mills at the hands of one of Prachett’s victims—or the man himself. “I’ve repaid my debt to you. You can have nothing else from me.”
“Your debt is satisfied only when I say it is. That pittance you’ve returned to me, yes, but where is my interest? A man must have his pride.” With a swift move, Prachett lifted the crop he’d been holding and brought it down across Avery’s bicep.
A hiss of pain escaped Avery, but he ignored it. “Your damnable pride is naught to do with me.” He swung at Prachett’s face, but the stinging pain in his arm cost him focus. Prachett dodged the less-than-perfect blow as drops of blood rained onto the straw.
“Oh, but it is, lad. Without you, Emersen has moved up the ranks. He cannot be beaten. Except, perhaps…” Prachett trailed off as he moved closer. “By you. The Houndstooth tourney is soon, and you must enter. You’ll lose there, and the wagers will turn against you. By the time you face this new threat, I’ll have secured my fortune in the betting books.”
Avery snarled as his anger overtook him. “Never again. I have left that life behind.”
Prachett snapped his fingers, and three men burst into the room. Avery fought like a wounded bear, striking and kicking and struggling against his captors, but there were too many. When they’d restrained him, pressing his body into the straw beneath the bag, Prachett leaned down and blew his foul breath across Avery’s face.
“If you will not do this for me, you may consider your time on this earth over and done. I will not tolerate another failure. I will not be shamed again.”
In answer, Avery spat in Prachett’s face.
Prachett shoved himself upright, dashing the spittle away with a ragged and stained sleeve. “Lads, convince him.”
“And this is the conservatory.” Henrietta led Leah into a room full of potted plants. The evening light shone through the many windows, giving the greenery an almost-living glow. The scent of damp earth hung heavy in the air.
Leah looked around, nodding sagely. Sure, it was a nice room, but the charade was starting to grate on her nerves. Mrs. Harper would probably have a stroke if they were late to dinner, and Henrietta wasn’t showing any signs of backing down yet. It was getting tough to maintain her patience with the girl. They’d already traipsed through half the huge house without any sign of the duke. And while the number of valuable and interesting antiques was impressive, Leah was starving and completely done with the hike.
“It’s very nice. But shouldn’t we be heading to supper now?”
The girl crossed her arms over her middle, her mobcap slipping to one side. “I told you, it’s been delayed.” She pointed toward the back of the room. “The orchids are quite lovely. They’re by the windows, just there.”
With a long-suffering sigh, Leah turned in the direction Henrietta had indicated. A delicate white flower sat in a small pot on a narrow table. She’d just bent to sniff it when the sound of a door slamming brought her head around.
She was alone. That little brat.
Leah crossed the conservatory toward the door, muttering under her breath the whole time. Grabbing the handle, she gave it a sharp twist.
It didn’t move.
Shaking the heavy door, she tried again. It was locked. A curse escaped her and she slumped against the solid wood.
This had been a lot harder than she thought, and she hadn’t actually had to do any work yet. Was her duke worth it? He had to be.
But what if he isn’t, and I got a job as a housemaid for nothing? What if Pawpaw is really sick, and I’m here chasing an adventure instead of being there for him? Uneasiness swirled in her middle, and she crossed her arms tight to stifle it.
But then the thought of Jamie and Micah’s faces at their wedding popped into her brain. It had been so beautiful, as beautiful as Pride & Prejudice had ever been. Pawpaw’s words echoed in her head. You find him, and you marry him, so when I’m dead and gone I know you’ll be taken care of…She shoved herself upright, straightening her mobcap determinedly. Not only was this for her future and her happiness, this was for Pawpaw’s peace of mind. Her man would be perfect for her, as perfect as Mr. Darcy for Elizabeth or Antony for Cleopatra, or even Romeo for Juliet—well, hopefully without the mutual suicide bit.
Wading through the plants, Leah headed for the nearest window. Here on the ground floor it should be as simple as yank up the glass and hop to the grass, just in time for dinner. Easy peasy.
Shoving a potted palm to the side, Leah stood on tiptoe to reach the latch. It was just out of her reach. Damn tall windows. Stretching farther, she was just able to flick the edge enough to loosen the catch. Her breath on the glass fogged her vision of the duke’s grounds, so she almost missed him.
Almost.
Avery Russell was walking slowly toward the house, his face and arms covered with bruises and crimson splotches of blood. He looked like he’d been on the wrong side of a mugging.
“Avery,” she breathed, fear streaming through her brain. “What the hell?”
Knocking the catch the rest of the way free, she shoved up the window with a bang and was tumbling free before her brain even had a chance to catch up. She had to go to him. Something horrible must have happened.
Her mobcap flapped wildly and strands of hair streamed free as she clapped a hand atop her head to secure her required headgear.
“Avery,” she yelled as she ran. Damn, the yard wasn’t that big. He had to hear her calling. “Avery, what happened? Wait a second, let me…”
Her skidding stop sprayed gravel beneath her boots. He’d entered the house without hesitating. He’d heard her, hadn’t he? Why wouldn’t he stop? Making up her mind quickly, she ran the last few steps that separated her from the door he’d entered and sprinted up the stairs.
She’d find out what was going on whether he wanted her to know or not. But what about supper, and Mrs. Harper? her logical side nagged. You’ll be in trouble if you’re late. And you have to keep this job or you won’t meet the duke, and Pawpaw…
She shook her head as she rounded the landing and threw open the door of the duke’s bedchamber. It would be okay. It had to be.
“Avery?” She kept her voice soft as she scanned the large bedroom. “Are you in here?” No sign of him. Ducking into the dressing room she’d sat next to him in, she scanned the smaller room for the valet. Nope. Not here either.
“Where did he go?” she said aloud, her hands on her hips. With a shake of her head, she turned to go. Her breath left her body when she clapped eyes on the bedroom’s new inhabitant.
He was tall, with silvery gray hair and pale blue eyes that seemed dedicated to a slight smolder. He appeared to be in his early fifties or so. His features were angular, all hollows and shadows and sharp bones, with shallow wrinkles near his eyes and mouth. Slender, graceful, like a predatory cat, he moved into the room. Dressed in severe, unrelenting black, there was only one person he could be.
Suddenly remembering her role as maid, Leah sank into a deep curtsy. “Your Grace.” She hadn’t intended to sound so self-conscious, but she was face-to-face with a freaking duke. And not just any duke, but the duke that was destined to be hers forever. Wow. She hadn’t imagined snagging such a sugar daddy, though. She’d have to think about how she felt about such a big age difference.