Page 40 of The Duke of Ruin
Ruan had no time to explain to Julian what was happening, instead he barged through the ballroom, and up to his bedroom. He had never been filled with such rage; his pistol lay in the drawer of his bedside table, and never before had he felt so compelled to use it. If someone had told him a week before that he would want to put a bullet through his best friend's heart, he would have told them they were insane --now, at that moment, he would gladly have riddled Lavelle with as many bullets as he could shoot.
"I say," a voice called, as Ruan came barrelling down the stairs to the entrance hall, "What's all this about Somerset kidnapping your wife?"
It was Lord Payne, slightly breathless, but wearing a look of determination on his young face.
"He absconded with Olive about half an hour ago," Ruan snapped, not breaking his stride. The younger man jogged alongside him, his face worried.
"Any idea where he might have taken her?"
Ruan paused just outside the door, thinking.
"There's one road," he said, as he once again began to stride in the direction of the stables. "It goes in two directions."
"So, I go one way, you go the other."
Ruan glanced at Payne in surprise; the young man was known as a high-spirited rake, but now his tone was determined and Ruan was glad that he was there. Payne looked grim and angry, and Ruan knew that he would gladly do anything to protect Olive--even shoot Lavelle.
"You go in the direction of Truro," he said, "I'll go toward the cliffs, it leads back to Lavelle's home, he might have gone that way. Do you have a pistol?"
Payne patted the breast pocket of his dinner jacket. "Always."
He might have made a wry comment about a man with a predication for married women needing to carry one at all times, but this was not the moment. The Duke and the Duke-in-waiting, dashed across the front yard, to the side of the house where the stables were located. The grooms inside were still mucking out for the night, but jumped to attention when they caught sight of the pair. They saddled two horses for the men and within five minutes Ruan was away, galloping down the pebbled drive of Jarvis House. Once he reached the gates he went right, while Payne went left with a shout of encouragement. Ruan leaned low against his mount's neck, urging him on in a fast gallop. He hoped that Lavelle would be slowed down by Olive struggling, for he had a large lead on him.
Ruan galloped ferociously through the dark night, ignoring the town of St. Jarvis, which was lit up below him. The cliff path was in darkness, but luckily the night was clear and the three-quarter moon illuminated his way. Never before had he been struck by such fear; the thought of Olive afraid or in pain was like a sword through his chest. This feeling was new and utterly unfamiliar; he had not known that he had the capacity to care so much for another human being.
"Faster," he urged his steed, slapping the horse's flank with his crop. He didn't usually ride so hard, and his thighs screamed in protest at the strenuous exercise, but he ignored the pain.
Finally, horse and rider came to a sharp bend in the road. The path, if he chose to follow it, went further inland, but if he went left he would reach the edge of the rugged cliffs.
Ruan paused, to consider his options. As he did so he heard a sound from his left; it was hard to hear exactly what it was, over the crashing of the waves below, but instinctively he rode towards it. He directed his horse over the grass and heather, until they were nearly at the cliff edge --and then he saw them. Olive was struggling valiantly against Lavelle, who had his arm around her neck and was dragging her across to where the cliff ended abruptly.
"Olive!"
Her name was torn from his mouth, and it flew across the space between them on the harsh, unforgiving breeze. Lavelle paused and looked up; a manic grin spread across his face as he spotted Ruan.
"You're too late," he roared above the howling wind, "Say goodbye to your wife Everleigh."
Panic seized Ruan at his words, but Olive, brave, resourceful Olive, took advantage of Lavelle's distracted state, to deliver a sharp elbow to his stomach. The Viscount doubled over, winded, letting go of the grip he had on the Duchess. Pale-faced Olive stumbled away from him, running in the direction of Ruan, who was in turn barrelling toward her.
"You're safe," he whispered as he caught her in his arms. He swiftly pushed her behind him, to protect her from any harm and began advancing on Lavelle.
"Why?" he asked, as he withdrew his pistol from his breast pocket. "Why do this Henry?"
"You ruined everything," his friend snarled, reaching inside his own jacket and fumbling for his weapon. "You stole Catherine from me and then you killed her. You don't deserve happiness, you don't deserve to live."
"Ruan didn't kill Catherine," Olive was shaking her head, her eyes fixed on the pistol that Lavelle now gripped. "She killed herself --he kept it secret so that she could have a decent burial."
"Lies!" Wild-eyed Lavelle backed away from the Duke and Duchess, his pistol still pointed at Ruan.
"It's the truth," Ruan bit out, "She was afflicted with sadness --a sadness that you helped perpetuate when you abandoned her for a life of vice in London. Why do you think she wrote to me when she discovered she was pregnant by Birmingham? Because she knew I was her true friend--she knew I would return to her. But you, you'd already broken her heart Henry, you'd already treated her like dirt upon your shoe."
"It's not true," the Viscount shook his head, and took another step backward. "You killed her, you did, you did--"
"Henry, no."
Ruan watched in horror as his oldest friend took another step back and lost his footing on the loose, stony edge of the cliff. He seemed to stay suspended, mid-air, for one second, his eyes awash with confusion and fear. Ruan raced forward, but it was too late, by the time he reached the cliff edge, Lavelle was plummeting toward the rocks, some fifty feet below.
"Don't look," Ruan ordered Olive, who had come to stand by his side. He drew her toward him, pressing her face against his chest so she would not have to see the horrible sight below.
