Page 41 of The Duke of Ruin
"Is he..?"
Ruan nodded, unable to speak as a tide of emotion seemed set to drown him. Lavelle had been his best friend since they were both three-foot high, but for the past five years the man had secretly hated him and wished him dead.
"Come," Ruan put his arms around Olive's shoulders, and guided her to where the two horses now stood, grazing on the flora of the sea-cliffs. "We need to get back to Somerset House and fetch some help retrieving Lavelle's body."
He also needed a stiff glass of brandy and few moments alone to reflect on what had happened. He helped Olive to mount Lavelle's steed, then jumped into the saddle of his own. The Duke and Duchess travelled back to Jarvis House in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
"Oh, you're safe. Thank goodness."
Jane, once more bespectacled, stood on the steps of Jarvis House to greet them. Lord Payne, who was thoroughly dusty and covered in a sheen of sweat at her side.
"Where's Lavelle?" he called to Ruan, who was helping Olive to dismount. The Duke threw the younger man a look that spoke volumes, which Payne returned with a grim nod of understanding.
"The guests have all left," Jane said, ushering Olive and Ruan inside. She guided them to the drawing room, where she ordered a pot of tea be fetched for Olive and something stronger for the Duke.
"Does anyone know what happened?" Ruan asked urgently, his mind already working to see how they could salvage the situation.
"Just myself, Lord Payne and Julian," Jane offered, handing Olive a steaming cup of tea. "We weren't quite sure exactly what was happening, so we didn't tell the other guests."
"Good," Ruan relaxed, "Let's keep it that way. Lavelle is dead, he fell off the cliffs just by Fisherman's Cove. We will tell no one of what he did, for his family's sake-- Julian can circulate a rumour that he was in his cups when he left."
"You're going to pretend it was a tragic accident?"
Olive spoke for the first time since they had arrived, her face a picture of confusion. Ruan nodded; he hated Lavelle for the danger he had put his wife in, but he did not want to ruin his family's name, for Lavelle had brothers who lived around the locale and it was they who would bear the brunt of his treachery.
"Good God man, you're far more noble than I," Lord Payne said, taking a large bite out of a sandwich and looking at Ruan with awe.
"He's the most noble man that I have ever met," Olive whispered proudly, taking Ruan's hand in her own and squeezing it tightly. Ruan felt a stirring of pleasure at her words. They were both nearly finished their drinks, and Olive looked as tired as he felt.
"Shall I take you home?" he suggested, thinking to leave her at the boarding house, as he had every other night.
"Yes," his wife held his gaze, "Take me back to Pemberton Hall, Ruan. I'm ready to go home."
Liv could feel her husband's heart beating in his chest as she rested against it. He cradled her with one arm, his other hands gently holding the reins of the horse that was bringing them back to Pemberton Hall.
No words had passed between man and wife once they had left Jarvis House. Instead Ruan had lifted her, as though she weighed nothing, into the saddle of his horse, before hopping up behind her. The journey was both pleasant and arduous. It felt wonderful to be held in the arms of a man as strong as the Duke, but the butterflies in her stomach had erupted at his closeness, so that she felt almost sick with excitement.
Pemberton Hall lay in darkness when they arrived, Ruan guided the horse to the stables, banging on the door to rouse one of the grooms.
"Oh, Ruan, don't," Olive protested, "I can wait here while you tend to the horse, don't wake the poor men."
"My dear," her husband took her by the waist and pulled her toward him. "You may be able to wait, but I cannot."
A bleary eyed young groom opened the door to the living quarters of the stables, interrupting their embrace.
"Sorry to disturb your sleep Keats," her husband gave the lad an apologetic smile, "But I need you to stable him. I'm in rather a rush."
Olive felt her face flame with embarrassment as her husband took her by the hand and led her across the cobbled yard toward the back entrance of the house. They entered Pemberton Hall through the kitchen door, Ruan leading her commandingly up the servant's stairs, to the third floor.
"Oh," he paused when they reached the hallway, a look of dismay on his face. "I suppose that wasn't a very glamorous way to bring a Duchess into her new home."
He looked genuinely crestfallen and Olive had to stifle a laugh, such was his dismay.
"The hallway rather makes up for the lack of decor on the way up," Olive offered, for it did. The arched ceilings were covered in frescoes, and the wallpaper was heavily embossed. A thick Persian carpet ran the length of the hall, inviting the walker in the direction of an impressive set of double doors, that Olive knew would lead to the Duke's suites.
"If you're impressed by the hallway, then you'll faint at the sight of the bedroom," Ruan growled, lifting her up in his arms and carrying her toward his room. "Though dear God please don't faint. I've had the ignominious pleasure of being, possibly, the only Duke of Everleigh to have two marriages go unconsummated for any length of time."
Olive bit back a giggle at his self-deprecating words. She felt snug in his arms and was grateful for their support, for her knees felt weak with nerves and anticipation. Ruan near kicked the door open, in his haste to get inside. He placed Olive gently on the bed, then began to tear at the cravat around his neck and the buttons on his shirt.
