“Well, it’s what we’re both thinking, isn’t it? He’s bound to be as pitiless and dull as his sermons.”
Sandrine had thought about having children with Mr. Pilkington, but she’d never been able to bring herself to imagine how that might be accomplished.
She shuddered. “I can’t marry him.”
“Oh!” Miss Hodwell pressed a hand to her hair, and then, realizing her fingers were covered with sugar, quickly lowered it.
“What is it, Dodie?” Mrs. McGovern asked.
“I’ve had the most wonderful idea. Why don’t we take dear Miss Oliver with us to London when we go to visit your sister next week! Sandrine could petition the Duke of Rydell in person about the fate of Squalton Manor.”
Sandrine sighed. “It’s a lovely thought, but my mother would never allow me to go to London.”
“Perhaps we can change her mind,” Miss Hodwell said eagerly.
“You’re very dear and kind to think of it, but I’m afraid it’s not in the realm of possibilities, and I’ve determined that from this day forth I will keep my head out of the clouds, my hands busy with charity work, and my focus only on the task at hand.”
Dane’s days were spent at Rydell House with Cleveland, the estate’s humorless steward, going over the record and account books and entertaining a seemingly endless parade of anxious uncles, solicitors, and business associates.
No one seemed to believe that he was capable of assuming the rigorous and taxing duties of being the duke. He was so occupied with those new duties that he hadn’t had a chance to return to Squalton to explain everything to Sandrine, although he thought about her constantly.
His plans to find a buyer for the manor house had been placed on hold since he had much larger fires to douse now, with incomprehensible financial records and plans for the annual charity ball his brother always held this time of year. He also wanted to speak to Piety about her extravagantspending habits, but she was true to her word, refusing to see Dane and sequestering herself in her chambers, waiting for the babe to arrive.
Night was coming on as he finally finished for the day and set off on the short walk from Rydell House to his apartments. What was Sandrine doing at this moment? She was probably already tucked into bed with a sachet of dried lavender scenting her pillow. He was so wrapped up in thinking of her that he didn’t even notice the shadowy figures lurking at the corner until they’d surrounded him.
He kicked and struggled, but there were three of them and they were bloody enormous. They held him flat against a wall, and one of them slid a flour sack over his head while another felt his coat pockets and stole his bag of coins.
They hadn’t stabbed him yet, but Dane’s entire body was tensed and ready for the thrust of a knife. He couldn’t die like this. He hadn’t even had a chance to apologize to Sandrine. He renewed his struggling and received another brutal punch to the ribs for his troubles.
“Take my... coin and be gone,” he grunted.
“It’s you we want.” A knee to his kidneys. He doubled over in wheezing, twisting agony.
“Not... a fair fight. Take this hood off my head and give me a fighting chance.”
“You think you can take all three of us?”
“Try me.”
The accent and speech were rough. Only one of them was doing the talking, the other two were the enforcers.
“Stop struggling and listen to me. I’ve a message to deliver. It’s about your brother.”
That stopped him from twisting and attempting to break free. “What about my brother?”
“He owed our associate money.”
“Lots of money,” a new, deeper voice said.
“What was the debt for?” Dane asked, trying to keep his senses sharp, to differentiate between the voices, see if there were any telling lisps or patterns of speech that might give them away in future.
“You don’t need to know that,” replied the first man, the one who’d done most of the talking. “You don’t need to know anything except that we have damning information about him. Information that, if published, would ruin you and your family name. So that’s why you’re going to pay his debt to us.”
“What kind of information?” Dane groaned as another punch landed in his gut.
“I told you that you don’t need to know everything.”
“How do I know you’re not lying?”