Why Do Dukes Fall in Love?: A Dukes Behaving Badly Novel (19 page)

“And that was when?” Michael asked.

“Three days ago. She’s been gone three days,” Miss Clark said, her voice faltering.

“Do not break down, Miss Clark, that is not what is required now.” He tried to keep his tone from being sharp, but she flinched
nonetheless. No doubt Cheltam would have something to say to him about that. He didn’t bother looking at her to confirm it;
he could tell by her sudden intake of breath.

Fine, he’d deal with that later.

“Of course not, Your Grace,” Miss Clark said, her voice stronger. Good. That was what should happen.

“And you told Hawkins what had occurred, and he sent the letter. Has anything else happened? Have you heard from Mr. Cheltam
since then?”

Miss Clark and Hawkins both shook their heads.

“He must have known Mrs. Cheltam was away from home.”
Home
. It
was
her home, and Gertrude’s, and it didn’t feel right to be here, not without the little girl wandering about, asking questions
and petting Chester and turning his staff from mere servants to caring, attentive people.

“It seems so, Your Grace.” Hawkins looked shaken also. No doubt he felt responsible, not having insisted the footman—William?—accompany
the governess and her charge on their visit to the park. Although it was hard to see what William could have done without
upsetting Gertrude.

“Well. I will pay a visit to Mr. Cheltam and retrieve the girl.” The sound of exhaled breaths echoed through the room. As
though they were relieved. “You didn’t think I would bother?” He couldn’t help the irritated voice he spoke in. That they
thought he would just allow someone who worked for him, never mind what relationship they might have had, suffer needlessly,
when he could solve it—well, apparently they thought he was as self-absorbed as she seemed to have thought when she first
arrived.

“Of course they know you would.” Cheltam, of course, speaking in a soothing tone. When she should be the one most emotional,
most agitated at this time. She was trying to soothe him. “It is merely that the staff—and I believe I speak for them, please
do tell me if I am wrong, Mr. Hawkins—that the staff knows that if you say something will be taken care of, then it will be.
It is as simple as that.”

The various staff members around the room nodded their heads in agreement. Perhaps it wasn’t an indictment of his callousness,
then, but merely a tribute to his efficiency. He didn’t feel quite as badly as he had a few moments ago, but then he would
have to examine why he leaped to that conclusion.

Because he felt something was lacking in himself? Because he might have hesitated to do just what was so obviously required,
because it also required effort?

He would examine it later. After Gertrude was safe. For now, he had a girl to reunite with her mother.

“It is just a few streets away.” Edwina sat beside him in the carriage, unable to stop twisting her hands together in her
lap. He’d tried to take her hand when they first set out, but she’d just withdrawn it, shaking her head.

She wouldn’t call what he was doing now sulking, precisely, but he had moved over into the far corner of the carriage, wedging
his shoulders in and keeping himself away from her. If she had been less anxious, she would have laughed—only inside her head—at
how much like Gertrude he was acting.

But he was here. And she didn’t doubt but that he would get her daughter back, even though it chafed at her to know that Robert
was going to get what he wanted—money, probably, and perhaps the promise of that investment.
I will do anything to get her back
. Michael had said that, and he didn’t say anything he didn’t intend to follow through on.

“Let me do the talking when we get there.” He was using his duke-issuing-orders voice, only now it didn’t irk her because
she trusted that what he ordered would get done. And she’d seen another side of him, a softer side, even though that side
was forever lost to her.

Her heart squeezed inside her chest, and she couldn’t help but reach up and touch the painful part, right where it hurt.

“Are you all right?” He continued speaking before she had a chance to answer. “Of course you’re not all right, that’s a ridiculous
question.” He exhaled sharply. “What I meant to say is, how are you?”

She felt her heart turn over, the traitorous organ, at his words. Words she doubted he’d asked anyone before, given how little
it seemed he cared for anybody else. She didn’t think he had ever asked Chester how he was, and that was perhaps the closest
thing he had to a friend.

That was sad, wasn’t it? That in all the time she’d worked for him, he hadn’t had a friend to dine, or done more than present
himself in the House of Lords and then grouse about it afterward. He had no personal letters; she saw all his correspondence.

“You need a friend,” she blurted out before she realized she’d spoken.

“A—never mind, it seems we’re here,” he replied, sounding relieved as the carriage drew to a stop.

He vaulted out, as was his custom, holding his hand out to her to descend. She took it because her knees were so shaky she
wasn’t sure she could remain standing on her own. But as soon as her feet hit the pavement, she snatched her hand away, wishing
his touch didn’t have the effect on her it did.

And while she was at it, perhaps she could wish she found him less handsome and rather stupid.

Rolling her eyes at her own inanity, she took a deep breath and walked up the stairs to Robert’s house. Before, when she’d
been married to his brother, she’d been impressed by the grandness of his abode, but it looked like a rundown shack compared
to where she lived now.

No wonder Robert acted as he had after seeing where she was. And had seen how the duke had treated her in their brief conversation.
Not that she excused him; it was a terrible thing to remove a child from a place where she was happy and cared for just to
gouge funds out of someone. But having that envy of another’s position, she knew the Cheltam brothers shared that. George
certainly had had it, always wishing he could best another in business. Which was why he got himself a lovely wife, even though
he and his lovely wife had nothing in common. Not even the commonality of valuing her loveliness.

It felt like a curse, usually. Unless—and there he was, at her side, looking down at her in the way that made her catch her
breath, as though he was actually worried about her. Worried. About her. The Duke of Hadlow.

He rapped sharply on the door, grimacing as he shoved the hand that he’d been holding near hers behind his back. He could
learn, then. Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard.

“Hello?”

A suspicious-looking woman opened the door just enough to peer through. Edwina could see the woman had a dirty mobcap on her
head, and her gown was spotted with grease. It seemed Robert had come down in the world; the last time she’d visited, before
George died, a stuffy butler had greeted them, immaculate in his appearance and haughty demeanor. And if this was how the
household was being run, where was Robert’s wife?

“Mr. Cheltam is in.” It wasn’t a question, and he accompanied his words with a push of the door, forcing the woman to step
back into the hallway.

“Here, you can’t just be pushing your way in here, not without a proper introduction.” Not only was the woman disheveled,
she sounded as though she’d been drinking.

This was where Gertrude was? Edwina’s throat tightened at the thought.

“I can, and I will. Mr. Cheltam!” the duke called, his commanding voice ringing through the empty hallway.

One of the doors opened, and Robert stepped out, his face a mixture of fear and bravado. “You’re here about the girl.” His
gaze darted between them, and he appeared to swell up, the bravado winning out over the fear.

“Where is she?”

Robert waved his hand dismissively. “First we need to talk.” He stepped into the hallway and beckoned to the room from which
he’d just emerged. “In here.”

The duke didn’t answer, just strode down the hall as quickly as Edwina had ever seen him move. She followed, glancing up the
staircase in hopes she’d see Gertrude somewhere. Was she safe? Was she even here? Who was taking care of her?

Robert shut the door when all three of them were inside. They were in his office, which was nearly as disheveled as the woman
who’d answered the door. Papers were scattered on every surface, some having fluttered to the floor, and there were blank
spaces on the bookshelves, a layer of dust showing neither the books nor the shelves had been touched in some time.

“Please sit.” Robert went to his side of the desk and sat without waiting for them to follow. The duke shook his head, as
though sorry for Robert, and Edwina felt a twinge of fearful anticipation—was he going to kill him? Or just hurt him very
badly? He was a duke, after all; he could get away with things other people could not.

“We won’t be sitting. We will, however, be retrieving Mrs. Cheltam’s daughter. What do you want?”

Robert blinked, as though surprised by the duke’s directness. “I thought we could discuss that.”

“We are discussing it. Tell me. Now.”

Robert blinked again, as if trying to figure out what to say that would be to his advantage. Edwina wished she could tell
him there was nothing he could say that would possibly make this better for him. And she better understood the duke’s impatience
with slower people, given how agitated she was for this all to be over.

“I am not certain Gertrude should be in your household.” Robert spoke in a belligerent tone.

Edwina resisted the urge to close her eyes at what the duke’s reaction would be.

“And why not?” His tone was deceptively soft.

Robert gestured between them. “It is clear that there are—are loose morals being displayed, and I owe it to my late brother
to ensure Gertrude is raised in a good, Christian home.”

Edwina nearly snorted. If the woman who answered the door was any indication, Robert was definitely not keeping a good home.
She couldn’t speak to the Christian element.

Never mind that it didn’t seem that any of Robert’s family was here any longer. The house felt still, as though it just housed
Robert and the woman who’d answered the door. Where had they all gone?

But that didn’t concern her nearly as much as where Gertrude was.

“I want to see her,” she blurted. “I want to see how she is doing.”

“As her guardian,” Robert replied, his tone unctuous, “I believe I can accommodate that. But I will have to have your assurances
you will not attempt to steal her away, not without—”

“Not without coming to some financial agreement,” the duke interrupted in an impatient voice. “Yes, yes, we understand. What
do you want?”

Robert consulted some of the papers on his desk. Had he already compiled a sheet of Things I Must Get from the Duke of Hadlow
Before Returning My Niece? Edwina stifled a hysterical laugh at the thought.

“As you know, I am acquiring investors in the Tea-rific Enterprise,” and then Edwina did laugh; the name was as foolish as
the idea behind it, “and when it is known the Duke of Hadlow is an investor, then—why, then it would be suitable for my niece
to return to your home.”

“You mean,” Edwina said, hearing the words grind out of her mouth, “you will keep Gertrude in your possession until the duke
has let enough people know he’s invested in your ridiculous company?” Her voice rose continually as she spoke, so her final
words were said in a shrill tone.

Then he did take her hand, as though to reassure her.

“Not acceptable. The girl comes with us today, and you can have my word as a gentleman that I will publicly support your venture,
as well as invest—say a thousand pounds?—into the enterprise.”

Robert pretended to consider it, then nodded his head. “Agreed. As a gentleman, I accept your promise.” And then he looked
at Edwina, and she felt the force of all of his jealousy, his dislike of her evident on his face, “but keep in mind that I
am Gertrude’s legal guardian, so if there is ever a question about where she is living, I will remove her.”

Edwina’s throat thickened at the obvious threat. She never thought he’d actually exercise his legal right to Gertrude. And
even though they had both been left in charge, it could take years before the courts ruled on the matter. Years where Robert
could retain custody.

“That will not be necessary.”

She wanted to tell the duke to just shut up, don’t feed Robert’s animosity any more than it was, but she couldn’t speak, especially
not to say something so familiar to her employer—Robert would seize on that as proof of their relationship, and would come
demanding more soon. Or sooner than she thought he might otherwise. That this blackmail would continue until she was out from
under the duke’s roof, she had no doubt.

So not only did she have to sever her relationship with him, she had to leave his employ. Or he would have to continue to
spend money on her behalf that would reveal just how close they’d become. Which would negate his spending money in the first
place, since if it became known just what he’d done, everyone would speculate as to the nature of their relationship.

Michael was proud of himself he hadn’t just walked in and beaten the loathsome toad. He’d been sorely tempted, especially
when he was treating Gertrude as something to be bargained with, as if she weren’t a person, likely a scared, small person
who needed protecting from her purported guardian.

So it cost a thousand pounds. And he had no illusions that the toad would not return with more threats in the future. But
what was money compared to human life? Compared to the look on Edwina’s face when she saw her daughter?

Compared to how he felt when he thought about what it would be like to be taken away from someone you loved?

“Mama!” Gertrude cried as she spotted Edwina at the foot of the stairs. Michael waited behind, keeping himself between the
toad and the ladies, just in case the man had second thoughts. He would have no hesitation then about beating him.

“My girl,” Edwina said in what sounded like a strangled sob, pulling Gertrude into her arms and holding her tight.

Michael felt his throat tighten. He hoped he wasn’t getting ill.

“We should leave,” he said after a few moments.

“Yes, of course.” Edwina rose from where she’d been kneeling, hugging Gertrude, a grateful look on her face as she regarded
him. “Thank you,” she said in a low murmur.

He shrugged. It was only money, and he had plenty of it. What he had in short supply was an efficient secretary and her lively
daughter.

“Is there anything you need to bring with you?” Edwina asked Gertrude, who was already shaking her head.

“I just want to go home and see Chester,” the girl replied. She narrowed her gaze at her uncle, and Michael wanted to crow
about the obvious disdain evident in her expression. “You said you had a dog here, and you did not. You are a liar, Uncle
Robert,” she said, each word a scathing indictment of her uncle’s lack of canine inhabitants.

Michael had never liked the girl more.

It was hours later, and Gertrude had been hugged by nearly every member of his staff, it seemed, and then she’d been put to
bed, a still joyful Chester climbing up beside her. Edwina had tried to shoo him off, but Michael had stayed her hand.

“Let him be. He’s missed her, too, you know.” His fingers were on her wrist, right on her pulse, and she was looking up at
him, her eyes wide and dark in the shadowy room, one candle flickering in a sconce against the wall.

She bit her lip, and glanced back at her daughter, whose eyes were closed, but her hands were still petting Chester. And then
she nodded, and Michael saw the bright sparkle of tears in her eyes, and he felt his throat get tight.

“Let’s go get you something to drink,” he said in a low voice, still keeping hold of her wrist, hoping she wouldn’t notice
for another minute or so, another minute when he could touch her.

She nodded again, and withdrew her hand, preceding him through the door. One of the footman—not the William one, but another
one—was seated on a chair in the hallway, standing up suddenly when he saw them.

“Thank you for staying here,” Edwina said to the footman. She glanced up at Michael. “It is foolish, I know nothing can happen,
but just—”

“Just for a few days until you both feel more comfortable.” It
was
foolish, there was no way anybody would get to Gertrude here on the third floor, past the impenetrable mass of his staff,
but if it made her less anxious, he’d do it. Hell, he’d hire a group of mercenaries if it would ease her mind.

What had happened to the remarkably logical man he’d been? The first hasty decision he hadn’t regretted—hiring her, having
her and Gertrude come to live here—and all of a sudden he was tossing logic to the winds. Doing things because they would
make someone else happy.