In the Dark with the Duke by Christi Caldwell Page 0,133
you . . . the both of you. You brought me what I’ve been searching for,” Lady Prendergast said almost conversationally. “You’ve saved me a trip. The both of—”
The door handle rattled, and all the blood leached from the marchioness’s chiseled cheeks.
“Open the door.”
Connor Steele?
The investigator’s command was muffled.
From behind Lady Prendergast’s mask, her eyes bulged before flickering between Lila and Hugh.
“I said, open the door.” This time, Steele’s voice cut more distinctly through the heavy oak panel.
Hugh’s gaze remained trained on the marchioness; the woman was prey, cornered, and there was no more volatile enemy than that.
And in the end, hate flared bright as she found her final target. The dowager marchioness pointed her pistol at Hugh.
He surged forward.
“Ahh!” An ungodly cry burst from the lady as Lila shot the heel of her boot out, catching the older woman in the front of the kneecap, crumpling her leg. The pistol went flying from the dowager marchioness’s hands, and the moment it hit the floor, the weapon discharged, emitting a cloud of smoke.
Madness lit her eyes as she unsheathed a dagger from her scanty gold-wrapped kalasiri.
Hugh was upon the woman in a single stride. Wrapping his arm so his forearm was wedged between her chin and chest, he grabbed her shoulder with his dominant hand, and stabilizing his grip, he applied a light pressure.
The woman immediately went limp, and he lowered her to the floor.
Stepping over the woman’s prone, unconscious body, Hugh had Lila in his arms. “Are you all right?” he rasped. His heart was never again going to find a normal cadence. “Why did you do that?” he begged, running his hands down her arms, searching for any hint that she’d been hurt. “Why did you do that?”
“I-I’m so sorry.” She collapsed into his arms and clung hard to his shirtfront. “I’m s-so sorry.”
“Sorry.” Hugh cupped her cheeks, stroking his palms over them. “My God, what are you sorry for?”
Weeping softly, Lila rested her forehead against his chest. Crying, when she’d only ever tried to restrain her tears; she now let them fall freely, and it sent him into further tumult. “You don’t want to u-use violence and—”
He groaned, cutting her off. “Listen to me, Lila March,” he said hoarsely. “I will never, ever hesitate to do whatever I need to protect you. And I’ll carry no regrets. You are all that matters. I love you.”
Catching her close, he drew her against him and just held her.
Hugh dimly noted the give of the lock as Steele worked his way inside the room. At his heels were Lila’s sister . . . and brother.
Lady Sylvia’s cry went up as she rushed forward, and in an instant, Lila was swept from his arms and surrounded by those of her family.
And Hugh fell back, the outsider once more.
From over the top of that familial exchange, Hugh caught Steele’s gaze as the investigator knelt beside Lady Prendergast’s body.
“She’s alive,” Hugh said quietly. “Everything you need to see her brought to justice is in that book,” he advised the investigator.
It was done.
Chapter 30
Lila had become something of an expert at sneaking.
It was how in the dead of night, when the respectable at last slept and the servants managed to steal their too-few hours of rest, she’d found her way through the servants’ kitchens of the unfamiliar townhouse.
Drawing her hood deeper over her face, she crept through opulent halls.
Candlelight streamed from under the small crack at the bottom of the door. Gripping the handle, she went to press the iron latch down and then stopped herself.
Over the past two years, she’d engaged in all manner of bold behaviors: she’d petitioned a former courtesan and madam for music lessons. She’d snuck about the rookeries, requesting bare-knuckle fighting lessons from one of London’s most legendary fighters. She’d gone off to that same legendary fighter’s apartments.
But this . . . this was altogether different.
Or it felt different.
It isn’t. He is the same man, and you are the same woman . . .
And those assurances rolling around her head didn’t help.
Inside her gloves, Lila’s palms slicked with moisture.
And for a long moment, she considered the even longer path she’d just traveled through the townhouse.
You’ve already come here . . . Now, say your piece . . .
“Are you going to enter, love? Or do you intend to stay outside my door until the sun rises?”
She gasped, that telltale exhalation echoing damningly around the empty halls. Springing into movement, Lila hurriedly let herself in.