A Duke By Any Other Name

Chapter Four

H arry stared down at the cobbled street. It had been raining and the wetness soaked his palms and through the wool of his pants to his knees.

“And don’t show your face again. Otherwise, you’re dead meat.”

There was a sharp pain in Harry’s side as a boot connected with his ribs.

He groaned and tried to crawl away, but it was no good and another kick followed the first.

“Come on, Sid. We’ve got better things to do. There’s a whorehouse over in Green Park. They’ve got great tits and smell like roses.”

“Yeah, you’re right. And I want some ale in my guts.”

To Harry’s relief, the Marquess of Sandford’s hired heavies walked away from him, the sounds of their footsteps fading.

He moaned and pushed up so he was kneeling. The sky was bright with a full moon and before him was a large, blue building that appeared to be alive with activity despite the lateness of the hour. The windows were lit and there were two coaches outside the front entrance.

Using the support of a wall, he stood, holding his stomach as he did so. He’d taken a couple of punches there, too.

“Sir, are you quite well?”

“Mmm, what?” Harry cleared his throat. “I…er…”

“I saw those thugs giving you a going over. Was just about to send them on their way.”

The wide-shouldered man standing before Harry wore a smart, black jacket and his hair was slicked back. He had a sharp face, narrow lips, and the kind of eyes that gave the impression he’d seen a lot of thugs and beatings over the years.

“I’ll be well in a… Ah, in the name of the Lord .” His belly hurt. He needed to sit and have a stiff drink.

“What is going on here?

A woman appeared. She was dressed all in black, complete with lace veil over her face.

“Mrs. Dove-Lyon, I did not see you approach.” The suited man nodded curtly at her.

“As I said, what is going on here?”

“This gentleman has just been attacked.”

“You poor thing.” She rested her hand on Harry’s shoulder. “At least they didn’t mess up your handsome face.”

Harry didn’t feel handsome. He felt wretched inside and out. He’d been torn from his bride on the same day he’d married her.

“Come with me.” The woman cupped his elbow. “That is my establishment. You can freshen up. Perhaps join in the fun.”

“‘Fun’…? But why would you…?”

“Help you? Let’s just say I believe in good turns, and tonight, in the Lyon’s Den, there will be many good turns at the tables.”

Harry couldn’t help but be suspicious of the two strangers’ kindness, but he was in no state to argue, so he went with the lady in black.

The Lyon’s Den was a warren of corridors and he was shown into a room that had warm water, soap, a towel, and fresh clothes. When he came out feeling cleaner, if not better, Mrs. Dove-Lyon was waiting for him. In her hand she held a Venetian-style mask with a yellow bird’s beak that was decorated with jewels and feathers.

“You have joined us on a rather special night,” she said. “And because a full house will really add to the anticipation, the spectacle, you have a seat at the center table.” She chuckled softly. “It is always so maddening for the nobles to have simply no idea who everyone is. I take it you know no one here.”

“I’ve never been to London before, ma’am.”

“Good.” She handed him the mask. “Wear this. Do not take it off until you are alone again.”

“And… And what is it you want me to do?”

“Gamble, my young friend, gamble.”

“I have but a few shillings and…”

“That is not a problem.” She emptied several coins into his hand. “This should see you right. You can play the usual card games, I presume?”

“Yes, yes, I can.” He stared at the money. There were many things he could do with it rather than gambling.

But it seemed he had no choice.

“Good. Go through that door. You will find food and drink too. Help yourself.”

“I…I can’t thank you enough. This is—”

“No thanks. Just play and be intriguing to all around you. No names. No identity given.”

“I will do my best.”

“And the lions don’t bite. Much.” With a swish of her long gown, his angel in black was gone.

“What is this place?” he muttered as he put on the mask that stopped halfway down his face so he would be able to eat and drink. “And are there really lions in there?”

The gambling den was lit with golden oil lamps and smelled of perfume and incense. To the right was a table laden with food—breads, stuffed apples, cheese, cold meats, pickles—and he went straight to it. Holding a full plate and a glass of red wine, he found himself being steered by a dealer to a center table.

“Ah, good. Now there are five of us.” A tall, well-built man in a scarlet devil mask rubbed his hands together. “Let’s play.”

Three other men sat around the table. Two wore golden lion masks and the third an elaborate emerald-green one covered in jewels.

Harry sat and tucked into the food as the dealer shuffled.

“What are the stakes?” asked one of the lions.

“A shilling,” the Devil said.

Harry dug into his pocket and pulled out a shilling. He knocked back a big mouthful of wine, a drink he wasn’t used to but enjoyed just the same.

“If my wife saw me doing this, she’d spin on her head,” said Emerald Masked Man.

“Marriage shouldn’t spoil your fun,” a lion said.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” The first man laughed. “Despite her disapproval.’

“True.”

“And where is your wife?” the Devil asked.

“She is at home, in Hampton.”

“Home alone?” The Devil shrugged and picked up his hand of cards.

“Of course.”

“How do you know she is alone?” The Devil was studying his cards, his nonchalance at odds with his inflammatory question.

“Because… Because…”

“All women can be seduced,” the Devil said. “If a man is skilled enough. If I were lucky enough to have a wife, I would not leave her alone to come gambling.”

“And why do you not have a wife?” a lion asked.

“I have yet to find a woman who is a good match for me and…”

“‘And’?” Harry asked. He was curious. This man was very finely dressed and spoke like the marquess. He was definitely old enough to have been married for a few years.

“A woman of whom my family approves.” The Devil sucked in a breath and his fingers tightened around his hand of cards.

Harry huffed. “I understand.” He was aware his accent was rougher around the edges than the other men’s. More Northern too. “I am in a similar predicament.”

“You are?” The Devil set his attention on Harry.

His mask was unnerving, the horns realistic and the eyes behind the mask shadowed and flashing.

“Yes, my wife—her family does not approve of me. We have been torn apart.”

The Devil leaned forward, drink in his hand now. “Let me give you a bit of advice. Take no notice of her family and go find her. Take your winnings from tonight and fight for her. Circumnavigate the globe for her, climb mountains, swim oceans—do not let a woman you love slip through your fingers. It is a mistake I have made and regret every day.”

He spoke with such conviction that a tingle of determination went up Harry’s spine, replacing the sharpness of the punches and kicks he’d taken.

“Promise me that.” The Devil held up his drink. “Mysterious bird man.”

“I… Yes, I promise.” Harry clinked glasses with him. “Though I have to win here to fulfill that promise.”

“There is plenty of money in this room for a man who is determined.”

The night flew by for Harry. He kept his focus on each game, adding to his pile of shillings. He played at another table for an hour, doubled his stash, then returned to the Devil and lions. Mrs. Dove-Lyon roamed around, her veiled presence seeming to be everywhere, seeing everything, and at midnight, there was a strange event with a young woman on the balcony who apparently was a prize—the prize of becoming the winner’s wife.

The Devil won her.

The next morning, Harry woke in a small cot bed in a room beside the one in which he’d cleaned up. He was awake instantly and sat to count his winnings. He’d turned a few coins into a small fortune. More money than he’d ever had…could ever have imagined having, in fact.

Quickly, he drank a glass of water, pulled on his boots, and then slipped from the building and back onto the cobbled street. It was busy now with traders and children and people going about their business. The clip-clop of horses’ hooves rattled around the buildings and a seller was shouting about fresh berries for sale.

He had to get back to Sandford. The marquess be damned. Harry wanted his wife and now he had enough money to buy a small cottage, with a bit of land. They’d be comfortable, happy. He could provide for her.

Love filled his heart as he climbed aboard a wagon that was heading north. He could have hired a carriage to himself, but his money was precious. It was to start a new life.

When they left London, the sun shone on the wheat fields. Birds flittered through hedgerows and when they stopped for refreshments, Harry spotted a stag on the other side of the river.

He took that to be a good sign. Mason had always said they were a blessing to have in the woodland.

Mason. Oh, how he hoped he hadn’t been too severely reprimanded for his part in the dawn wedding. It had been such a grand and daring plan and had gone so well. He could kick himself for stalling their getaway by spending time at the inn. They should have hit the road. Made their escape.

Had his lust, his desire, his impatience to consummate the marriage dropped them into hot water?

Whatever the answer to that question was, it was too late now.

But it had been so good. Jane had been giving and responsive, her sweet body the perfect match to his. He finished the dregs of his ale and felt a stirring in his cock, the way he always did when he thought of her naked. Except now he didn’t have to imagine what it would be like to be inside her, to have her cunny hugging his cock—he knew it. It was stamped into his memory. And the sooner she was in his bed again, the better.

“All aboard.”

His journey on the wagon continued for the rest of the day, edging ever farther north.

Eventually, after many hours and in the dead of the night, he called for it to stop. He alighted three miles from Sandford, deciding it would be less conspicuous to walk through the forest.

Twigs snapped underfoot and owls hooted overhead as he made his way along a familiar track.

When he reached the edge of the formal garden, he paused and peered at the clocktower over the stable block. Soon, it would be dawn and Mason would be among the first to be moving around. His attention went to the grand, stately home that was Sandford House. A few servants were up, their lights glowing amber, but the rest of the house was in darkness, including Jane’s bedchamber.

He breathed in the crisp air. Just being closer to her again made his heart sing. His arms ached to hold her and his lips tingled with the thought of kissing her soon.

As the dawn chorus lifted through the forest, Mason appeared, pushing a wheelbarrow toward the muckheap.

Quickly, Harry approached him, keeping a look out for other servants and of course the marquess.

“Psst, Mason.”

Mason turned, dropping the wheelbarrow down. “What in the name of the Lord? Harry. Are you well?”

“Yes, yes.” Harry rushed up to him. “And you? Have you been punished for your part in the wedding?”

“No, his lordship believed me and Emily right enough.”

“Good, good I’m glad.” He gestured to the house. “And Jane? What of her?”

“Jane is not there.” Mason shook his head. “She has left.”

Harry’s blood ran cold. “What? Where? What awful fate has her father bestowed upon her? Has she been married to Worthington already with a special license? Because if she has, it is not a true—”

“He has done nothing to her.” Mason stepped closer, lowering his voice. “She left of her own accord, middle of the night.”

“For heaven’s sake, man. Where did she go?” Relief mixed with renewed alarm for her wellbeing.

“West. She went west, to Wales.”

“Why on earth would she do that?” As he’d spoken, he remembered telling her that his dream was for them to go to Wales. She’d remembered.

“I cannot begin to understand the workings of a woman’s mind, but that is what she did and…”

“‘And’?”

“And I helped her. I saw her safely over the border.” Mason gulped and looked at the house. “But if you ever tell a soul that, I will deny it and set those heavies on you again myself.”

“On my mother’s grave, why would I tell anyone? I thank you with all my heart for helping my beloved wife.”

“I love her too. I have watched her heart break for her sweet mother, who was taken too early. Despite her pain and that heartless father of hers, she grew up into a fine, young woman.”

Harry squeezed his friend’s shoulder. “Can you tell me where you took her?”

“There’s an inn, past Chester, The Traveler’s Rest. It’s a busy establishment and I know from word of mouth they’re always hiring staff. She’s gone there.”

“To work?” Harry was horrified. His Jane dirtying her pretty hands. It didn’t bear thinking about. “What on earth would they have a lady of such fine blood do?”

“I suspect they have no knowledge of her pedigree, Harry. She was intent on being incognito.”