Page 69 of The Virgin Duchess

Rose deserved better than Halfacre, and Charlotte deserved better than him. The world was a place of cruelty till the last, and Frederick vowed at that moment—as he stood in front of his mirror straightening his cravat—that he would not add to that cruelty if he could avoid it.

Telling Charlotte of his discretions with Margaret, however untrue they might have been, was the last necessary act of harm that he would carry out. When she asked him for her freedom, he would not deny her, and he would ensure that the annulment was kept quiet so that she maintained her status.

Or, in the rather likely event that he should lose his life during his next visit to the Baron, Frederick had already ensured that both Rose and Charlotte would be taken care of. He’d done it not three days before this morning, and it had been a very fortuitous event indeed.

Goodbye, Charlotte…I will love you till my last breath and beyond.

“Ready a carriage,” Frederick called out into the hall well after his wife had left. “I will be traveling into the city.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” the butler offered. “Is there anything else that you require?”

Frederick considered, dropping his head as he let out a long exhale. “In my father’s things…I believe he has left me a single pistol and shot. See that it is wrapped up and placed in the coach.”

George, his butler and one who had served the estate for most of his adult life, looked at Frederick with wide eyes full of concern.

“Your Grace, are you quite certain that?—”

“Yes, George. Thank you.”

The man took a beat to collect himself and then nodded. “Of course, Your Grace.”

With that, he dismissed himself, and Frederick closed up his room, ready to make his way down to the gaming hell where the Baron had been spotted. It was no doubt on purpose, a lure set by Halfacre to get Frederick to leave his home and find him in the bowels of London. It was likely a trap.

And Frederick would still be going.

The stick of the alley behind the gaming hell was fierce, biting Frederick’s nostrils as he crept along as silently as he could. His pistol was tucked into the back of his waistband, and the pressure of the metal against his spine was a cold comfort.

He’d been forced to unwrap it, knowing that in a struggle, it would not serve him to do such a thing in the heat of the moment. Still, Frederick did not carry around a weapon during his typical daily outing. He was trained with it and believed in his skills, but the tension set in his spine would still not go away.

Where are you? Bastard Halfacre, making me wade through the depths of scum just to find you.

Frederick clenched his jaw, rolling his eyes at himself for thinking of this alley as the depths of scum when in truth, it was Halfacre himself. That man had brought down so much suffering for his family—and for others should the rumors prove to be true for once.

The fact that the bastard had tried to seduce and ruin his sister was enough for Frederick to consider him the worst of the worst, however. The fact that Halfacre had done it to others was just a rancid cherry on top of the fetid cream.

Scanning his surroundings, Frederick confirmed that this was the hell Rose had mentioned in her story. He didn’t believe that his sister would get that kind of detail wrong, so he pushed further into the shadows, seeking out anyone or anything that might give him a clue as to the Baron’s whereabouts.

“It is odd that Halfacre chosethishell,” Frederick whispered to himself.

This particular gaming hell was a rival of his, one that stood to put his own out of business should they continue to outperformhim. Perhaps it was a move to discredit the information, or perhaps this hell was actually one of his in disguise as a competitor. It was not an uncommon business practice of the Baron’s to adopt pseudonyms for any number of dealings.

Creak.

The sound of wood adjusting against itself echoed from further down the alley. Frederick steeled himself, sinking further into the filthy confines. At the far end, he could make out a figure, though it was too bent to be the Baron unless the man had become a fantastic actor.

Walking that way purposefully, Frederick snuck up alongside a beggar who’d been holed up in this hidden corner of the city. He jumped slightly when Frederick grabbed him by the collar, but the glaze that covered the man’s eyes suggested that he was too far gone with drink or laudanum to be capable of genuine fear.

“Have you seen anyone else in this alley? A fine man, taller with blonde hair and brown eyes? Yes?”

“I…” The man’s words trailed off before they even began, his legs giving out so that he dangled from Frederick’s grip. “What?”

“A man. The Baron of Halfacre.” Frederick shook the beggar, trying to force him into brighter consciousness. “Come on, man. You must have seen something.”

“You’re shaking me too hard. You’re liable to knock me damned teeth right out of me head!”

The man spoke with an accent, and Frederick tightened his jaw. It was unfair what those of other nations had been forced to accept in this city, but he did not have time for this right now. A true villain was on the loose, and he needed to find and stop Halfacre before he ruined his family.

“Focus,please. I am looking for a man who has recently been to the gaming hell.” Frederick pointed at the taller brick building to their left. “Just there. He was there and complaining about a Lady Rose, sister of the Duke of Mullens. I need to find him. He is the Baron of Halfacre.”

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