Discouraging the Duke by Alexa Aston

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Miles moved through the crowded ballroom, trying to speak to as many people as possible. A slap on his back had him turn to look over his shoulder.

A smiling Kit grinned at him.

“So, you’re an old married man now,” his friend said. “It won’t be long before fatherhood follows.”

He knew Kit was joking but Miles hoped Emery would turn up with child in the next few weeks. He wanted a large family and would lavish each child of theirs with love.

Finch joined them and Miles introduced his two friends, excusing himself so he could continue about the room, knowing he and Emery were scheduled to leave soon for their honeymoon.

He greeted a married couple, tenants at Wildwood. “Mr. and Mrs. Oldham. Thank you so much for coming.”

As he spoke to the couple, he glanced about the ballroom and found his wife. Emery was on the move, though, and left the ballroom. He wondered if she went to change and thought perhaps he might assist her. He excused himself and started toward the doors when a footman he didn’t recognize handed him a slip of paper. Miles knew Trottmann had hired a few villagers to come in and help in the kitchens during the wedding and supposed he had done the same regarding footmen.

Reading the note, he bit back a smile.

It seemed his bride wanted to rendezvous in the library.

He strode from the room, eager to see her. Even more eager to kiss her. It was just like Emery to plan a short, sweet interlude of kissing on such a busy day. He tingled with anticipation as he entered the library and threw the lock, making sure they wouldn’t be interrupted.

When Miles turned, fear struck him in an instant.

Baron Haddoway stood with a gun in his hand, trained upon Emery. She walked toward the older man with trepidation and had almost reached him.

“Stop!” he cried out.

Haddoway’s eyes flicked to Miles. “Ah, I see His Grace has joined us. Good of you to do so.”

He took a step forward and the baron said, “No,” in a commanding tone, causing Miles to halt. Then Haddoway said to Emery, “Keep moving toward me,” and she did, obviously reluctant.

“Stop, Emery,” Miles pleaded.

She glanced over her shoulder. “Leave. I beg you.”

“What? You’re mad to think I would abandon you.”

Her body shook. “He told me he would kill you,” she said, her voice full of anguish.

As Miles moved toward his wife, Haddoway reached out and snatched her arm, pulling her close. His arm went about her waist, pinning her to him, the pistol, pressing against her temple. Fury and frustration rippled through Miles, followed by a feeling of helplessness.

“Don’t hurt her. I beg you,” he pleaded.

“She needs to be put in her place,” the baron said.

“She is a duchess. She knows her place—and it is far above you,” he snapped.

“Haven’t you learned the lesson yet that all women are worthless? Your father and I knew it and acted accordingly. Women are meant to be used up and tossed aside, whether they are a whore or a high and mighty duchess.” Haddoway smiled dreamily. “Ah, the days and nights I spent with your father, debasing useless women. Winslow was a real man. He was a master of putting a woman in her place.”

He tightened his grip on Emery. “He would have enjoyed having his way with this one, so smug and pretentious. In fact, I believe your brother did so. Ralph confided in me how he wanted to deflower Miss Jenson.” Haddoway laughed. “Ralph would be tickled that you got his leftovers.”

Miles’ mind raced, trying to figure out a way to save Emery. He couldn’t believe he was in this same room again, a gun in play, the life of someone he loved at stake. Using a gun had been unavoidable during his army days and Miles had sworn never to pick up one again once he left the military. Not after what had happened to Tony in this room.

But how was he to rescue Emery?

By offering himself in her stead.

Miles began walking slowly to Baron Haddoway, his arms held wide, trying to convince the man he was no threat.

“Stop!” the baron cried.

“Take me,” Miles said. “Let her go.”

“No!” shouted Emery, her face devoid of color. “Don’t sacrifice yourself for me, Miles.”

He paused and gazed at her intently. “I would gladly walk through the fires of Hell a thousand times for you, Emery.”

Haddoway now pointed the gun at Miles, who began moving forward again, knowing a small bit of progress had been made with the gun no longer pointed at his wife.

“Stop, Winslow,” the baron said nervously. “I mean it.”

“I do, too, Haddoway. Let Emery go. You have no quarrel with her. I am the one who beat you. Embarrassed you in public. Deal with me.”

He had almost reached them. Only a few more steps.

Then Emery screamed loudly, piercing the air. She stomped on the baron’s foot. The nobleman staggered back. Haddoway lost his grip on her and he lowered the gun, trying to snatch her back. Miles threw himself in the air, knocking Haddoway to the ground, allowing Emery to escape his grasp.

The baron brought the pistol up as they struggled, the gun now between them. Miles clamped his fingers on Haddoway’s wrist, forcing it to turn away.

Then the gun went off, the noise shattering. The pistol fell to the ground. Miles struck Haddoway hard, slamming his fist into the older man’s temple, stunning him. He scampered off the baron and kicked the gun away.

Emery flew into his arms and he clung to her, telling her over and over that it was all right.

A pounding sounded at the door and he remembered he had locked it. He released his hold on Emery and took her hand, pulling her in the direction of the door, away from Haddoway, who sat up, dazed. Flinging it open, he found Trottmann standing there, along with several people behind him.

“Fetch the magistrate. As discreetly as possible,” Miles said and then he closed the door.

His wife wrapped her arms about his waist. “What will happen to him?” she asked anxiously.

Miles looked across the room as Haddoway rose unsteadily to his feet.

“Whatever does, he will not trouble us again. That I will guarantee.”

Trottmann returned with Sir William Grant and Dr. Collier. For a moment, Miles grew queasy, seeing the magistrate in the library again, everything that had happened years ago with Tony and Ralph flooding back. He steeled himself, knowing Emery needed him in the present and not the past.

“Baron Haddoway tried to kill my wife and me,” he told Sir William. And then he added, “He also forced himself upon my mother many years ago.”

Sir William’s brows rose a good inch. “I see.”

By now, the baron had dragged himself into a chair and sat stonily as his eyes darted from Miles back to Sir William.

Dr. Collier stepped forward. “I am not excusing Baron Haddoway’s behavior but I want you to know that he is very ill.”

“How ill?” Miles asked. “Enough to try to murder a duke and his duchess on their wedding day?”

“I am dying,” Haddoway said succinctly.

All eyes turned to the baron.

Sir Williams asked the physician, “Is this true?”

Collier nodded. “I diagnosed Baron Haddoway myself. He had the diagnosis confirmed in London. He won’t live but another two or three months.”

The magistrate cleared his throat and then said, “It could get very ugly, Your Grace. Trying to bring Haddoway to justice. I doubt you want that.”

He didn’t, mostly because he didn’t want Emery exposed to it. Though she was his duchess now, there would always be a few members of the ton who would speak ill of her. He refused to add fuel to any fires they might try to set.

“What do you suggest?” he asked Sir William.

“I could place him under house arrest. See that he does not leave his estate until he passes.”

“Very well. See to it,” Miles said. “Only keep him in this room for now.” He glanced to his butler. “What does anyone know?”

“Your guests are still in the ballroom, Your Grace,” Trottmann said, unflappable as always. “A noise was heard—which I came to investigate—and I reported it was nothing to worry about. I was very careful in finding Sir William and bringing him here.”

“Good.” He looked to Emery. “Go and change. I think it best we leave for London at once. Can you do that?”

Love for him shone in her eyes. “Of course, Your Grace,” she said and left the room.

“Trottmann, send Her Grace’s mother up to her to help her ready herself. Dr. Collier, we should return to the ballroom.” Glancing to Sir William, he said, “Only bring him out once we and the guests have left.”

“Yes, Your Grace. And I will keep the matter quiet.”

Haddoway finally spoke. “Would you really treat me so unkind, Winslow? There is a possibility that I am your father.”

Miles stiffened at the words. He went to stand before the man who had wronged his mother so long ago, the one who might have killed Emery. Only through sheer willpower did he keep from using Haddoway as a punching bag.

“You may have raped my mother but I am not a result of your misdeeds. I closely resemble my great-grandfather, Garrick Notley. Our portraits hang side-by-side in my picture gallery. There is no doubt—I am a Notley. I do hope, however, that you rot in Hell with the previous two Dukes of Winslow. Even then, that is probably too good for you.”

He gestured to the physician and the two men left the room, returning to the ballroom. Stoic as ever, Miles pretended as if nothing had happened, going about to greet every guest he hadn’t spoken to previously. Within a quarter-hour, Trottmann approached him.

“Her Grace is ready, Your Grace,” the butler said.

“Thank you.” Miles turned to the room. “The Duchess of Winslow and I are leaving for London now. We will honeymoon there and across England, where we will visit some of our estates. Upon our return, I hope to dine with many of you. If you would now, please accompany us outside so we might say our farewells.”

He spied Mr. Jenson, looking a bit lost, and went to his new father-in-law.

“Mr. Jenson, come and say goodbye to Emery and me.”

“Oh, yes, Your Grace,” the older man said and Miles led his steward to the foyer.

Emery and Mrs. Jenson awaited them and he handed off the steward to his wife and then took Emery’s hand in his.

“Everything all right?” he asked lightly.

She gave him a sweet smile. “It is now that I am with you again.”

Leading her from the house, they went to the waiting carriage. Once inside, they waved goodbye as their driver started up the team. Miles heard cheers as the vehicle rolled down the lane.

Once out of sight, he pulled his bride onto his lap and kissed her thoroughly.

“London awaits us,” he proclaimed after breaking the kiss.

Emery stroked his cheek. “As long as we are together, it doesn’t matter where this carriage goes. How long until we reached the great city?”

With a wicked grin, Miles said, “We have plenty of time to entertain ourselves.” His hand slipped under her skirts and stroked her sleek calf.

“Take all the time you need, Your Grace. I am all yours.”

“I think I wish to make love to my bride in our ducal carriage,” he declared.

“Oh, you do, do you?” Emery paused a moment and then asked, “Then what is taking you so long?”

Miles laughed, feeling the last of the chains of his past dissipate, and kissed his duchess.