Trapped with the Forbidden Duke (Forbidden Lords #5)

Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

“ A re you sure you wish to continue?” the Duke asked quietly. “I can continue alone. I will find him for you, Lady Edwina.”

Edwina was out of her depth as they went from the gambling den to a tavern. There was a tremor in her limbs that she was fighting to get under control. Her desperation mounted even though they had only visited one haunt.

“I want to,” she murmured. “I just… I do not know. Perhaps I had always hoped that the places my brother frequented were not so… unsavory.”

And he does not even know the worst of it .

“You are sure the ones you told me about are the only places?” the Duke pressed, giving her a long, knowing look.

She bit her lip and sighed. “No. No, but I fear the others are places I do not want to think about too much. It is hard to admit that your brother visits such disgraceful places.”

The Duke only shrugged as they approached the seedy-looking tavern. “All men have places they are not proud of visiting.”

“Do you?”

“In my past, yes,” he answered, surprising her with his bold honesty. Before she could probe him, he continued, “Let us focus on finding your brother and taking him home, My Lady.”

There he was again, all formal, as though he was distancing himself from her by using her title.

Lady Edwina nodded. “Thank you for what you did in that place,” she said quietly. “You did tell me that it would be dangerous. I cannot imagine what would have happened if you were not there.”

His eyes darkened. “I also told you that you would be protected.”

“Yet, that was not part of your promise when you first said that you would stay.”

He paused. “Situations change. Consider yourself under my protection now.”

Edwina bit her lip. The Duke held the door open for her, and she ducked under his arm easily. But before she could step inside the tavern, he caught her wrist and inspected her hand. It was bare, bereft of jewels, and she realized that was what he was searching for.

He let go of her hand, but she could feel the warmth of his fingers even as he quickly checked her neck and ears.

He does care . He does not want me to enter these places adorned with things that will make me more of a target.

“Stay behind me at all times,” he told her.

They entered the tavern, finding it low-lit and mostly empty.

Edwina was not sure if that was a good thing or not, but the Duke only strode towards the back of the tavern and planted a hand on the bar. She lingered behind as she was told.

“I am looking for information on the whereabouts of the Earl of Montgomery. He could have used an alias.”

Edwina had not thought of that. The bartender shot her a curious look over the Duke’s shoulder.

Subtly, the Duke shifted, blocking her from view. “Well?” he prompted when the man said nothing.

“I ain’t running my mouth.” The bartender shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest.

Edwina glared at him, but the Duke was already tossing a pouch of coins to him. “Reconsider.”

The bartender peeked inside the pouch, his eyes lighting up at the coins inside, and then he beckoned the Duke closer, glancing around.

“You ain’t heard nothing from me, but there’s a man goin’ by that name in these parts. Last I heard, he owed money—a very handsome sum, you know?”

“To whom?”

“Some underground lord—not of any estate, mind you. He goes by the name of Patrick Benson.”

The Duke pulled back, slowly nodding. “I see. You will keep this a secret.”

It was not a question, and he only gave the bartender a long, scathing look before he turned around.

Once they were outside, he frowned as he thought of their next location.

“Should we try?—”

Edwina didn’t get very far with her suggestion, for he spoke over her.

“Patrick Benson. I do not know that name, but there is this man, and then Stockton.” His mouth tightened. “Just how many men does your brother owe money to?”

He continued before she could respond.

“And why ? Your house certainly does not seem to reap the benefits of any loaned money. And your personal touches are not those typical of an earl’s sister, and surely there would be more staff.” A pinched look crossed his face as he shook his head. “Let us keep looking. There has to be something else to discover.”

Edwina had an idea who Patrick Benson might be—who any man her brother owed money to might be. She believed they were the suppliers of opiates. But she bit her tongue and nodded, following the Duke as they visited more gambling hells, dens, and taverns, until eventually, neither could think of another location.

She retreated to their carriage and sat down next to him. Her panic and fear for her brother had increased until she was on the verge of tears. A sense of dread had long settled in her chest, seizing her until she fought to breathe.

“We shall wait until he returns,” the Duke said quietly. “Until then, I want you back, safe, at the house.”

“And my brother? I cannot help but worry about him. He has never jumped out of the window before.”

“He has made a choice tonight, for whatever reason he has. If he wishes to gallivant in the night and leave you worried, that has to be his choice. You cannot fret every time a man goes missing, for half the ton would lose their wits entirely. He is a young earl, no doubt deep in his cups somewhere, perhaps flirting.”

Edwina turned to fix him with a glare. “You are so certain that he is a villain, hellbent on leaving poor, little me defenseless. I am not . Whatever recollection you have of me from your friendship with Nicholas, banish it.”

His eyes flashed as if he did not deny her anger.

“You do not know him anymore! You cannot fathom what he has been through, and yet you judge him, you scorn him, and you fight with him. How can you protect him from everyone else when he cannot be protected from your own judgment?”

The Duke only returned her glare, leaning closer. His proximity filled her senses, not letting her breathe.

“What I understand is that he is a careless earl who forgets honor to do God knows what while leaving his unmarried sister with no protection or security. How many times have you had to clean up his messes, Lady Edwina?”

Her words failed her for a moment as she gaped at him. Then, her eyes narrowed further, her voice hardening. “You believe you are so perfect? So above reproach?”

“Hardly,” the Duke scoffed. “But at least I do not run away from my responsibilities. Your brother knew all along that he was your father’s heir. He should have prepared better, got the fun out of his system while he still could.”

Edwina knew he had no idea what sort of fun her brother had. Yes, opiates gave him delirium, mania, and laughter that spiraled out of control—but then it gave him the sickness, the shakes, the paranoia.

“I will ask you not to judge him before you get to know him as who he is.”

“I do not think a great deal will have changed.”

“It must have for you to call him lacking in honor, if that is what you once knew him to have.”

He met her gaze, his mouth tight with annoyance. “Do you enjoy always speaking back in such ways?”

“Do you enjoy always being right?”

His mouth quirked, and Edwina couldn’t help but notice how handsome satisfaction looked on his face. His green eyes sparkled with mischief.

“I was right about many things, so, yes, I do enjoy it. I like it, for it lets me know I am not being lied to.”

Edwina’s face flushed, knowing full well she was lying—or rather, not lying, but at least omitting part of the truth.

“I see,” she murmured, “just like when you declared me a lady pretending to be otherwise.”

“You were not very good at the otherwise ,” he countered. “It gave you away immediately. You would have needed more confidence were you a woman in the position you tried to convince me of. The Raven’s Den has many girls who slink through the shadows, looking for a lap to warm, a bed to revel in, but you are not one of them. For one, their hands do not shake when they serve their clients whiskey, nor do they gulp down their drinks as though they are their sole salvation.”

“You say that as if I have no confidence at all,” Edwina scoffed, insulted.

The Duke’s eyes raked over her, piercing through her. It was as though he kept her steady despite the rocking of the carriage as they returned to Montgomery Manor.

“Do be assured, Lady Edwina, that I see every inch of confidence you possess.”

“As you should,” she murmured. “I know who I am, Your Grace.”

“I see that.” His gaze dropped to her mouth, and before she realized it, he was slowly leaning in.

He paused, as if giving her a moment to back away, as if he himself was unsure why he leaned in. Her heart raced, and her mind went blank for a moment. Green eyes met her blue ones, and a hand slid over her waist, confident, strong.

Edwina thought that it was not hard at all to meet the Duke of Stormhold’s lips with hers.

He kissed her. It was not a fight of lips and tongue as she had heard of. It was hesitant, a moment that she put down only to the vulnerability of her situation, and the likely dominance the Duke knew he had over the circumstances, and her. And yet she was not perturbed by his advance.

She shifted closer until her thigh pressed against his, and she made a surprised sound in the back of her throat when his hand fell on the fullness of her upper thigh.

His mouth moved against hers gently, exploring. At the first hint of his tongue, her heart almost burst out of her chest, her head growing light, and all she could think of was the Duke and how a man with such rough words and arrogance should not kiss the way he was kissing her. As if she was the only thing he thought about at that moment. As if she was a tether.

And then he pulled back far too soon, and Edwina almost chased him if not for the shut-off, guarded look that immediately crossed his face.

She blinked, realizing she had just kissed the man who was only there to protect her, to see her safe from ruin when her brother had failed to.

Shifting, the Duke moved away from her. He cleared his throat, and Edwina had the terrible sense that she was being rejected. Frustration flooded through her.

“I will see you back to your home, and then I will continue the search alone.”

Edwina was too preoccupied with his kiss to answer. When he glanced at her, as if questioning her silence, she only looked away from him.

She nodded. The farther from him, the better—at least for now. At least until she gathered her thoughts.

Edwina still had not quite recovered, or chased the heat with other thoughts, by the time she entered Montgomery Manor. Immediately, she knew that something was seriously wrong.

The Duke paused at the front door and frowned, sniffing the air. “Do you smell?—”

“Whiskey,” Edwina finished.

She turned towards the hallway and broke into a run, chasing the scent to the parlor.

The Duke was only a step behind her, for once letting her go first. And she was glad for it, for he did not see her face when she found Nicholas sprawled on the floor of the parlor, his fingers loosely grasping the neck of a bottle of whisky, his eyes closed.

Thankfully, his chest moved. That was the first thing she always checked for.

He was breathing.

Her relief was cut short at the sight of the familiar laudanum bottle that was tucked almost out of sight beneath his arm, as if it had rolled unceremoniously away from him after being used.

Edwina’s heart cracked as she dove for her brother, falling to her knees.

“Nicholas,” she said urgently, getting no response. She tapped his cheek rapidly with her fingers. “ Nick .”

Behind her, the Duke cursed as he gripped the doorframe.

Edwina shifted to ensure that the laudanum bottle was out of view and then quickly tucked it into the pocket of her dress before he could see it.

“We need help in here!” the Duke called, craning his neck to look out at the carriage and the footmen likely awaiting his return. “Come quickly!”

Nicholas’s face was deathly white, but Edwina only focused on the breaths that came out of his lips, telling herself that as long as he breathed, he was all right.

He would be fine, and at least he had made it home and not passed out, face-down, in a puddle somewhere or one of those awful dens she had heard about, where opiate addicts went to lose themselves away from their families’ shame.

Soon, three footmen burst into the parlor. With the help of the Duke, they dragged Nicholas to his feet. He was not conscious, and he swayed, his body going limp. In the end, two footmen grasped an arm each, while the Duke supported one knee and the third footman hoisted the other.

It was a struggle, and Edwina could only watch. She was so angry, so distressed, and oh so familiar with this whole situation that when the parlor was empty, she could only collapse into an armchair.

She stared at the litter of whisky bottles, wrinkling her nose at the lingering scent.

She would have to adjust the staff’s schedule the following day in order to have the room cleaned.

“Brush it away,” she muttered to herself as she went upstairs, following the voices of the men who helped her brother to his chambers. “Brush it all away, so nobody may notice. Fix the cracks, and pretend that they are not there. Do not think of His Grace’s questions, should they arise.”