Page 50 of His Darling Duchess
“He’ll hang for what he’s done.” Hale finished it for him. “Even his rank won’t protect him from this.”
The hunting lodge was dimly lit, a crumbling Jacobean manor left to rot in the wilderness. Rhys barely recalled it as belonging to the Stowe estate; his father had abandoned it as unworthy of ducal attention. As the magistrate pounded on the front doors, demanding the release of the Duchess, Rhys scanned the windows for any sign of movement.
There—a flicker of light in an upstairs room. A shadow moving across the drapes. Then a cry echoed through the night.
Rhys's heart seized. "Aurelia!"
Heedless of danger, he charged forward. But before he could reach the doors, they burst open with a bang.
“We didn’t know she was no duchess!” a voice yelled. “We don’t want no part of this!”
“Come out with your hands in the air,” Hale shouted back, coming to Rhys’s side and grabbing his arm. “Hold, Stowe,” he said in an undertone. “Grantleigh’s men are abandoning the sinking ship. We may be able to talk him down.”
“That scream!” Rhys could barely think.
“She’s his only bargaining chip, Stowe; he won’t waste it.”
“Do you have any idea what he could be doing to her?” Rhys turned on Hale. “What he already tried to do…”
"Stop where you are!" Grantleigh's voice rang out from above. Rhys looked up to find the villain leaning over the edge of the roof, Aurelia clutched in front of him like a shield. "Another step closer, and she dies!"
"Release her, you coward!” Rhys roared, fury boiling in his veins. “She has nothing to do with this!"
"On the contrary," Grantleigh sneered. "The Duchess is the only thing keeping your heart beating. Which shall it be, Stowe? Your life, or hers?"
Aurelia whimpered as the pistol dug into the tender skin of her throat. The sight unleashed something primal in Rhys—a ferocious protectiveness, as consuming as it was futile. He was powerless here, at the mercy of a madman.
All he could offer was the truth. "If you harm her, you will not live to regret it."
"Bold words." Grantleigh yanked Aurelia closer, relishing her cry of pain. "But we both know you won't take the risk. Now, throw down your weapon and come inside, alone. Or I shall throw the Duchess off this roof, and her blood will be on your hands."
Rhys stared up at the woman who held his heart, vision blurring with anguish and rage. He had never felt so torn, or so helpless. His knuckles turned white on the pistol grip, every instinct rebelling against surrender.
But in the end, there was no choice. Not where Aurelia's life was at stake.
With trembling fingers, he unloaded his weapon and let it fall. Raising his hands, he walked through the doors into the dark, ignoring Hale’s pleas for him not to go.
The lodge was dim and musty, cobwebs clinging to the rafters. Rhys climbed the stairs slowly, conscious of the rotting timber beneath his feet, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. Had all of Grantleigh’s men surrendered, or was he about to be ambushed by half a dozen men or more?
At the end of a short hallway, Grantleigh stood with Aurelia clutched against him, her pale face etched with terror.
Rhys stopped several paces away, pulse pounding. "Release her. You have me now—there is no need to threaten an innocent woman."
"Innocent?" Grantleigh scoffed. "The Duchess of Stowe is many things, but innocent is not one of them. Now, on your knees. I won't ask again."
Every instinct rebelled at the order, pride and fury warring within. But when Aurelia whimpered in pain, the battle was over. Rhys sank slowly to his knees, gaze never leaving hers.I will get you out of this, my love. I swear it.
"Very good." A cruel smile twisted Grantleigh's lips as he shoved Aurelia aside. "Now, it's eye for an eye, Stowe. You destroyed my life, so I will destroy yours."
The pistol raised, pointing towards Rhys. He clenched his teeth, hoping Grantleigh was still as bad a shot as he had been when they were younger and first learning to shoot; there could only be one shot in that gun and then… Hale would make sure Grantleigh did not survive the night, if Rhys wasn’t able to take care of it himself.
A pistol blast split the air, twinned with Aurelia’s scream.
"No!" Her scream echoed through the lodge, and she twisted like a wildcat, raking her nails across his face even as the pistol went off. With a shout of rage, Grantleigh backhanded her brutally across the mouth, sending her crashing to the floor.
Rhys felt the bullet whiz past his cheek, heard the dull crack as it embedded itself in the wall behind him. With a roar, he launched himself at Grantleigh, knocking the pistol from his grasp. Grantleigh stumbled back against the wall, eyes wide with panic, but Rhys was upon him in an instant. He slammed his fist into Grantleigh's face, relishing the crunch of breaking bone and the spray of blood.
"You miserable cur!" Rhys seized Grantleigh by the lapels and shook him violently. "How dare you threaten her! I should kill you where you stand!"
