Devil of a Duke by Kathleen Ayers

28

Jemma opened her eyes and recognized the top of her canopied bed. She was in her own room at the Marsh home. Snatches of a terrible dream filled her head. Lady Corbett and Augie had kidnapped her and were going to take her back to Bermuda. She took a deep breath and tried to sit up, falling back against the pillow at the burst of pain emanating from her shoulder.

“Stop moving, Jem. You'll open the wound and it will start to bleed anew.” Nick lounged on a chair next to the bed, his shirt unbuttoned, and his clothing rumpled. The chair creaked under his large form, and Jemma doubted the piece would ever be the same. Nick’s cheeks were dark with stubble. More so than usual.

“You,” her mouth was dry, “need to shave.”

“Indeed.” He stood and came over to the bed, taking her hand in his.

Jemma licked her lips, wincing as her tongue ran over the split at the corner of her mouth. “You should not be in my bedchamber,” she choked. “My aunt—”

“Has come to terms with my lack of propriety. I insisted that I be here when you woke, not patiently sitting at home, waiting for Lady Marsh to send word to me of your recovery. Ridiculous after what has occurred. Nor was I content to wait in a guest room.” He pressed her hand to his lips. “Your aunt strenuously objected, of course, but I ignored her. I believe the last thing she did was to scream for the smelling salts.” The full lips twisted into a wry smile. “I've ordered them all away, including the doctor, who has promised me absolute discretion. How do you feel?"

“My shoulder hurts.” Carefully she leaned forward as Nick pushed another pillow behind her.

“It should. That bitch shot you.” Nick sounded worried and annoyed at the same time. He ran a finger lightly down her face, carefully avoiding the bruise on her cheek. “You need to rest. We're to be married as soon as you can stand, and your face has healed. Thank goodness your nose isn’t broken.” His very tone implied there could be no objection.

“What happened?” She looked behind him to the small table next to her bed where a pitcher of water sat.

“Thirsty?” He stood at her nod and poured a glass of water. He held the glass to her lips. As the cool liquid slid down her throat, panic filled her. Her hand flew down to cup her stomach.

“Jem, everything is fine. You are both fine.” He took the glass from her lips. “Thankfully the doctor did not make that proclamation until after your aunt had left the room.” The mismatched eyes twinkled with mirth. “Dr. Martin wasn't sure whether to tell me or not. I assured him of the child's paternity.”

She closed her eyes and said a grateful prayer. “Lady Corbett killed my father, Nick. She poisoned him. And my mother.” She opened her eyes and tried to blink back the tears threatening to fall. “Teacakes. She poisoned the teacakes.” Her hands clutched the coverlet. “She said she loved him and he should have married her,” the words came out in a rush, “and that it was she, and not Lord Corbett, who told my father about your grandfather's papers.”

“You need not ever worry about Lady Corbett again, my love. She slipped on the stairs as she tried to flee. Broke her neck.” Nick spoke lightly. “A shame. I would have liked her to stand trial for her crimes.” He waited, watching her to see if she would question him further.

Remembering the strange popping sound she'd heard after the pistol discharged, Jemma had serious doubts that Lady Corbett fell down the stairs on her own. She'd been in London long enough to hear the rumors even before she knew Nick and the Duke of Dunbar were one and the same. Loving Nick meant accepting who he was. Instead of pondering her future husband’s less savory activities she said, “How would she have known about those documents?”

Nick kissed the tip of her nose, appearing relieved she would not question him further about the means of Lady Corbett's death.

“She was an acquaintance of my mother's, prior to her marriage to Corbett. I found out several months ago.” Nick pursed his lips in thought. “Mother was more of a drunkard than my father, oddly enough. She just hid it much better than he. She must have stumbled on her knowledge of those papers by accident, probably while going through grandfather’s desk looking for spare coin. My parents were deeply in debt, and when my grandfather cut them off, I suppose she became desperate. She must have told Lady Corbett at some point, possibly thinking to enlist her aid in stealing them, but the Corbetts outsmarted her.” He slid further onto the bed, ignoring Jemma's protests. “Not difficult. My mother was a bit of a dimwit.”

“I'm wounded,” she said pointedly as Nick stretched out his legs on the bed next to her. “You could delay my recovery.”

He leaned his head against hers and took her hand, careful not to jostle her wounded shoulder. “Shush. You do not really wish to get away,” the husky voice whispered against her temple.

“No. I do not,” she assured him, sinking against the warmth of his body, remembering the first time he'd said such to her.

They lay together quietly for some time before Jemma said, “What of Arabella?”

“My sister,” Nick's voice became brittle, “will be residing at Twinings, our estate in Wales, until the babe is born. She left this morning with Aunt Maisy. I haven't yet decided whether or not I will allow her to come back to London, and I certainly do not wish her at our wedding with your shoulder still bandaged and she the cause.”

Jemma did not care if she ever saw Arabella again, but Nick loved his sister. “I will not be the cause of your estrangement. I think Arabella believes she was acting in your best interests, Nick.” Miranda had told Jemma much about Arabella, and regardless of her machinations, Jemma felt some empathy for her soon to be sister-in-law.

He snorted. “You are kind, my love, far kinder than I would be were the situation reversed. Bella needs to learn a lesson, perhaps Twinings will give her the education she lacks. Wales is very stark and cold, much like Bella. She will either accept recent events and forgive the past, or she will live out her days alone.” Nick's tone did not brook further discussion. “Sleep, Jem,” he murmured. “I’ll not leave you. Not tonight. Not ever.”

Jemma closed her eyes again, letting the warmth of Nick's body seep through her own. Rain began to patter against the window panes, the gentle rhythm lulling her into sleep. She thought of all the things that had transpired, how revenge had turned to love, a great love.

Her love.

Bermuda was her past, and as much as she missed some of her friends there, she had no wish to return. She would ask Nick tomorrow to find Tally. Uncle John likely knew his whereabouts. If possible, she would gladly sign Sea Cliff over to him. After all, he had saved her life. How surprised he would be to find himself a wealthy man. Sea Cliff and all its inhabitants would be safe with him. He was an honest man. A good man. Not a gambler. Jemma tensed next to Nick, where he snored softly at her side.

“Nick.” She shook him awake, hating the fear in her voice. “Where is Augie?”