The Truth About Princesses and Dukes (The Duke Hunters Club) Page 8

  The princess shot him an aggrieved look, and Rupert repented his action. Perhaps this was not the moment to instill confidence in his cousin. Confidence was not something his cousin lacked.

  “I don’t understand,” the princess said. “Why would you want to harm us?”

  Dudley jerked his thumb at Rupert. “He’s a nuisance.”

  “And me?” the princess’s voice trembled.

  “Not a nuisance,” Dudley said reluctantly, “though I must say, I’ve never had to leave my castle wearing so few clothes.”

  The princess sighed. “Then why are you doing this?”

  Rupert wrinkled his brow. Personally, he preferred not to muse on Dudley’s perspective. It was too unpleasant.

  Dudley heaved a heavy sigh. “The matter does not concern you.”

  “But perhaps we would have been happy together,” Aria said.

  Rupert cringed, remembering all the plans for a happy life with the duke she’d outlined in her letters. She’d dreamed of wandering the countryside with Dudley and throwing herself in all the duties important for a duchess. She’d longed for children scampering about the castle, their high-pitched voices filling empty halls.

  “I’m already happy,” Dudley said brusquely.

  “And my money will increase your happiness,” the princess said miserably.

  “Pure business,” Dudley said with a condescending note. “It’s not something I expect you to understand.”

  “I didn’t know such cruelty was possible.”

  The princess had been so joyful, so exuberant, so fond of everything in her life. And though she’d sometimes complained about her bodyguard’s unwavering presence in her letters, it had been because she couldn’t imagine anything untoward occurring. She’d felt safe.

  And now, perhaps in her final minutes alive, she wouldn’t be.

  “People commit cruel acts every day,” Dudley said, and Rupert inched toward a chair, happy the princess was distracting Dudley. “After all, where would I be if I was swayed by mere emotion? My factories would be less profitable, as would my mines.”

  The princess gazed resolutely at Dudley, even though Rupert was certain she could see him grasping hold of the chair’s handles.

  “A true man,” Dudley said, “does not give in to emotion.”

  “I see,” the princess said, perhaps struggling for something to say.

  The princess and Rupert exchanged glances, then Rupert picked up the chair. He swung the chair at Dudley’s back, and his cousin toppled down.

  “Ooof,” Dudley grunted. Rupert flung himself on his back.

  “You need something to tie him with,” the princess said.

  She glanced around the room, then smiled. Galileo barked at Dudley, evidently invigorated by the excitement of having someone join him on the floor.

  The princess returned with some floral fabric.

  Rupert smiled. “Those are my mother’s curtains.”

  The princess hesitated. “Perhaps I shouldn’t use these.”

  “Nonsense,” Rupert said. “They’ll do quite well. They are a worthy cause. Even my late mother wouldn’t mind.”

  The princess beamed back at him, and despite everything, his heart warmed. He had the odd urge to embrace her, to hug her, to...kiss her.

  He quelled his enthusiasm and averted his gaze. A few minutes ago, she’d locked him in the pantry. They were still strangers, no matter if he did want to swing her about the room in happiness.

  “Where did your mother keep her sewing equipment?” the princess asked.

  Rupert frowned. “I-I don’t know.”

  “You needn’t worry. I’ll just tie him up.”

  Dudley grunted, but the princess moved matter-of-factly, tying him with the curtains.

  “You excel at knot tying,” Rupert told the princess.

  She smiled. “You wouldn’t believe how often I’ve sat in drawing rooms, knitting, crocheting, or making clothes.”

  “Evidently, it was practice for just such an occasion.”

  The princess giggled, and the duke groaned beneath Rupert. Evidently, being hindered from his plans and being subjected to a conversation about sewing was unbearable. He continued to squirm, but Rupert held him close.

  The princess settled on the floor, holding the fabric. She furrowed her brow in concentration, then tied the duke’s hands together.

  “You’re not going to get away with this,” the duke said. “I’m going to kill you both.”

  “What else has changed?” the princess asked languidly.

  Dudley scowled.

  The princess then moved to the duke’s legs, then tied them together.

  “Is this really necessary?”

  “You should take it as a compliment that we think you might escape,” Rupert said.

  Dudley was quiet for a while, and Rupert smiled. Dudley was most fond of adulation, even the kind that most people would shy away from.

  Finally, the princess tied the duke to a sofa leg.

  “This is outrageous,” the duke huffed.

  The princess glanced at Rupert. “I think His Grace requires a gag in his mouth.”

  “You are reading my mind,” Rupert said lightly.

  “Stop the flirtation,” the duke shouted. “That is a married woman. My married woman.”

  “We weren’t flirting,” the princess said quickly.

  “Of course not,” Rupert said, but something in his heart twisted.

  He stuffed some curtain fabric into the duke’s mouth. It was suddenly particularly important not to hear anything else the duke had to say.

  He rose and extended his hand to the princess. She placed her hand in his, and a jolt of heat moved through him at her touch. He avoided the duke’s eyes and picked Lady Octavia up and held her in his arms. The cat purred, oblivious she was being used as protection.

  “I should get the basket,” Rupert said gruffly. “Gather Galileo.”

  The princess nodded, and after a short visit to the pantry, they left the cottage.

  “Do you think it’s safe to leave him there?” the princess whispered.

  “It’s summer, he’ll be sufficiently warm, and his servants will look for him. One of the benefits of having a large staff.”

  She nodded, appeased.

  “In fact, they might already be looking for him, so we should hurry.”

  “Very well.”

  They stepped outside. The wind fluttered pleasantly about them, and he inhaled the scent of his mother’s rose bushes. Everything would be fine.

  Then he spotted it: the duke’s carriage.

  Blast.

  Just because they’d walked didn’t mean the duke would have done so. Rupert’s stomach sank. Who took a carriage on such a short journey? But he knew: his cousin, the owner of a castle, a large estate, and various other assets which Rupert now knew had much harsher working conditions than he’d once suspected.

  The duke wasn’t the man he’d imagined. His stern presence had not hidden a gentle heart. His occasional inappropriate joviality had not been simple awkwardness, a result of his lofty title. No, his stern presence had hidden a murderous, cruel man.

  And Rupert had not known.

  He hadn’t even suspected.

  The driver would think it odd the duke did not make an appearance, especially when he saw Rupert and the princess leaving.

  He swallowed hard. “Oh, dear.”

  “Does that carriage belong to the man we just tied up?” the princess asked softly.

  “Yes.”

  “Including the driver?”

  “Yes,” Rupert affirmed, his answer even more miserable than before. He pointed to a shabby cart beside the carriage. “I’d intended we could take that.”

  “I see,” the princess said. “Then I suggest we revise the plan.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Aria was conscious of the duke’s cousin hurrying after her, but she focused on reaching the stables. There would be horses there that weren’t be
side waiting coach drivers.

  “You shouldn’t do that,” her not-so-terrible kidnapper whispered when they were out of earshot of the driver.

  “We need a horse,” Aria said. “And preferably a cart not next to a driver.”

  “I meant—there will be a groom there.”

  Aria paused, then turned to him. “Indeed?”

  “There’s always a groom ready.”

  “I see,” Aria said softly, and she felt rather less confident than before. She’d never ventured to the stables in Sweden on her own. There were all sorts of things she didn’t know. “Do you suppose the duke might have said something to the groom as well?”

  “I think he would have said something to everyone. He is a very grumpy man.”

  “And if I returned to the castle?”

  The man’s face sobered. “You’d never leave.”

  His words thundered in her ears, even though she doubted he’d even raised his voice. Her heart tightened. The implication was clear: she would be murdered.

  Aria wished her bodyguard hadn’t left. She missed Demon.

  “Perhaps we could see the magistrate,” Aria said, proud of herself for knowing that somebody managed crime in a local district.

  “Well, the good thing is that he is close.”

  Aria’s heart warmed, and her lips moved upward. “Fabulous.”

  “Within walking distance.”

  “Even better.” Her lips moved with greater force, and even though the duke was inside the cottage, and even though he desired to kill them, joy still soared through her.

  “Unfortunately, he’s also the duke,” the man said.

  Aria halted and stared.

  He nodded solemnly.

  “Dudley is the magistrate?” Aria’s voice trembled, and the corners of her lips quickly returned to their initial, low position.

  “Yes. This is a small region.”

  “So he goes around solving crimes?” Aria furrowed her brow. Her husband didn’t seem passionate about stopping crime.

  “Of course not.” The man leaned nearer her, and she was conscious of a pleasing scent of cotton and cedar. “I think he likes to declare people guilty of poaching on his land.”

  “I see,” Aria said miserably.

  The man straightened. “What would you like to do?”

  Aria opened her mouth, but she had no plan. She sighed. “First, you can tell me your name.”

  “My cousin never did?”

  “No.”

  “I’m Mr. Rupert Andrews.”

  She nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Andrews. Now, I think we need to return to the carriage.”

  “Return?”

  “It’s imperative the driver doesn’t venture inside the cottage. Besides, I’d much prefer to travel in a carriage than an old cart. It’s certain to be more comfortable.”

  Mr. Andrews smiled. “You are probably correct in that.”

  She turned to him. “Stay here. Don’t let him see you.”

  Aria turned and marched toward the driver, still holding Galileo in her arms.

  “Good evening,” Aria said gaily.

  “Good evening,” the driver said with a dour gaze.

  “His Grace told me that you would be able to drive us back to the castle.”

  “Of course, Your Grace,” the driver said, and Aria realized she was now a duchess. She didn’t recognize the man, but he’d recognized her. Perhaps he’d even been one of the staff members watching who’d stood in the back of the chapel during her wedding ceremony today.

  The driver opened the door. “Where is His Grace?”

  “Oh, he’s speaking with his cousin. I think it will be a while.”

  “And where were you, Your Grace?”

  Aria petted Galileo. “I’m afraid my dog is new to the area and started running. I ran after him. I didn’t want him to get lost.”

  “Ah, quite wise.” The driver’s gaze softened. Hope moved through her. Perhaps not everyone’s instinct on this estate was to be cruel. “I suppose you wouldn’t want your dog to be eaten by a fox or hawk.”

  Aria clutched Galileo more tightly to her. “That would not be ideal.”

  “I can imagine. Brutal things, foxes.”

  Aria shuddered.

  “I’ve seen the remains of the chickens they devoured. So many feathers.”

  Aria felt faint. And queasy.

  “My husband suggested I might return to the castle,” she said. “Now I’ve found Galileo.”

  “Oh.” A worried expression came over the driver. “I see.”

  “Because I wouldn’t want Galileo to run away again.”

  Galileo started to snore. Loudly.

  If only he weren’t quite so fond of being carried.

  The driver gazed at Galileo, probably thinking that sleeping animals were unlikely candidates for running away.

  “He can be quite startled if he were to wake up,” Aria said.

  “I suppose we wouldn’t want that.”

  “No, indeed.”

  A meow sounded in the distance.

  Aria’s stomach toppled down. Evidently, Lady Octavia had decided to be noisy. Galileo stirred and started to bark.

  “Well, I suppose I could drive you back to the castle,” the driver said reluctantly, clearly unhappy at following an order that was not directly from the duke, but also reluctant to argue with the duke’s new bride.

  “Thank you.” Aria got into the carriage. The driver was about to shut the door. “Actually, it’s so silly, I think I left my reticule inside. Would you care to look for it?”

  The driver blinked, but then nodded. “Very well, Your Grace.”

  He moved toward the cottage door. Once he reached it, Mr. Andrews sprinted toward the carriage, shoved Lady Octavia at Aria, then clambered up.

  The driver swung around, and his eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

  Mr. Andrews manipulated the reins, then the carriage began to move.

  “Stop,” the driver shouted, but the carriage proceeded to quicken.

  Hopefully, taking the carriage would delay them from being caught.

  Aria settled against the pillows as the carriage left the estate. Finally, after an hour, the carriage stopped, and Mr. Andrews opened the door. “I thought I should check on you.”

  Aria stared at Mr. Andrews. “You were truly trying to rescue me.”

  “Of course I was,” Mr. Andrews grumbled. “I don’t make a habit of carrying women.”

  She smiled. “Well, thank you.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “It was a pleasure.”

  “And to think you’d never even met me before,” Aria added. “That makes you terribly heroic.”

  Some emotion Aria could not easily identify flashed over Mr. Andrews’s face. Evidently, the man was humble as well as heroic. She smiled up at him.

  Mr. Andrews averted his gaze, and she sighed. Energy thrummed through her body, and she tapped her fingers against the carriage wall. She didn’t mind shy men. They were quite intriguing. Most men she came across adored speaking. Either they had been born aristocrats and were accustomed to having people laugh at their attempts of humor and had no timidity about ordering servants about, or they’d made their way into royal circles through consistently sparkling conversation. She was tired of men who were so accustomed to adulation that they half-expected her to swoon in relief when someone introduced them to her.

  She’d thought she’d found such a man in Dudley. His letters had been kind and tender. Her chest tightened. Obviously, he’d paid someone well who was well-versed in the art of writing love letters. Perhaps people were right to say that women could be easily manipulated. She’d certainly been, and her shoulders slumped.

  “I’ll sit with you,” she said hastily.

  He arched an eyebrow. “You still don’t trust me.”

  Heat moved toward her cheeks. “I’d rather not answer that.”

  “You don’t have to. Of course, you can join me. Make sure I don’t run down
any cliffs.”

  She gazed at him sharply. “You wouldn’t do that.”

  “Of course I wouldn’t,” he said.

  “Er—good.” She climbed up the steps and slid down to make room.

  THE PRINCESS SETTLED in the seat opposite him, and a faint scent of roses wafted over Rupert. She tilted her head toward the stars. “This is exciting.”

  “Yes,” Rupert agreed.

  Perhaps he was confident he wouldn’t topple the carriage off a cliff, but his confidence was mostly placed in the fact that there weren’t that many cliffs to fall off.

  He turned to her. “Where would you like to go?”

  She hesitated. “Somewhere with ships.”

  “You’re planning to return to Sweden?”

  She swallowed hard and drew her gaze from the stars to her lap. She twisted her fingers. “There’s nothing else for me here.”

  His heart tightened. He wanted to tell her this wasn’t true. She’d written about her love for England’s idyllic countryside, its picturesque buildings, and its cultural happenings. He wanted to tell her to stay.

  But Dudley wanted to murder the princess, so instead, he nodded solemnly and strove to think of something for her to look forward to. “I suppose you’ll be glad to return to your family.”

  “I-I suppose.”

  He moved the reins, willing the horses to start again. Fortunately, they did. The drivers had evidently trained them well, and the carriage plodded forward. “There’s Portsmouth. Though London is closer. We can put you on a ship there.”

  “Then we’ll go to London.”

  “Excellent,” he said, in his most confident voice. Her lips wobbled, and he had the horrible sense she was beginning to realize that everything was not fine.

  He was silent, conscious this was all his fault. If only he weren’t in so much debt with the duke.

  He couldn’t tell her his role in this. He couldn’t bear for her to realize he’d caused all the horribleness in her life. He couldn’t tell her he’d trusted his cousin too much.

  “It will be fine,” he said, even though he wasn’t certain it would be.

  She gave a wry smile.

  “Can you rejoin the people who traveled to Laventhorpe Castle with you?”

  She scrunched her lips together. “They left four hours ago.”