Mrs. Kinnon finally appeared and said it was time for classes to begin. Though a few groans were heard, the orphans stood and began to file from the room. Each child stopped and thanked both her and Catherine for coming and for bringing the scones and books. By the time the last one left the room, Laurel was overcome with emotion.

  “Thank you again so much, Your Grace,” Mrs. Kinnon said. “The children enjoyed your visit today.” She turned to Laurel. “I look forward to seeing you on a regular basis, Your Grace.”

  “I look forward to visiting often—and bringing my husband with me.”

  At least she hoped Anthony would want to come. Laurel had a feeling that this orphanage would become a huge part of her life. She wanted to share the experience with Anthony.

  As she and Catherine left the building, a deep sense of satisfaction filled Laurel. She turned in a circle, taking in the surrounding area, knowing she would be back and that she had the means to make a difference in so many lives. A footman handed them into the carriage and they talked about the children the entire way home.

  *

  Julius Farmon froze in his tracks.

  The little bitch was back.

  He’d looked for Laurel Wright everywhere after she’d attacked him, putting out the word that no one was to hire her. He’d sent Braxton to the room the three Wrights lived in, tripling their rent. Julius knew if he forced her into desperation, she would be his.

  Then she’d vanished. Her mother died and the next time Braxton went to carry through with his boss’ threats, both Laurel and her brother had disappeared. He’d sent word through his network to find her and her brother. One man thought they were living at a boardinghouse several miles away but by the time Julius arrived, they were gone. No forwarding address. The woman who owned the place mentioned something about the pair leaving in a grand carriage but she slurred her words and was already deep into her cups by ten in the morning so he hadn’t lent any credence to what she said.

  But Laurel had just gotten into a fancy coach. Rage surged through him. She’d turned him down flat, saying she wasn’t that kind of woman, yet here she was riding in a fine carriage. A ducal one. He saw the crest on the door as it passed by him. She was a fancy woman now. Mistress to a man with a lofty title. Wearing fine clothes. Laurel Wright had thought herself too good to be the mistress of Julius Farmon and had simply sold herself to a higher bidder.

  He would make her sorry for rejecting him. Revenge was second nature to him.

  Turning to Braxton, his shadow, he asked, “Did you see her? The Wright girl?”

  His henchman nodded.

  “Go inside that orphanage. Find out why she was there,” he barked. “Whose coach she rode in. The name of her protector. I’ll be back at my office.”

  Braxton strode toward the building as Julius walked the two blocks to a saloon he owned, a brothel on the floor above. He entered and went to the large room in the back that served as the core of his enterprises. He sat behind the desk and opened the bottom drawer, pulling out a bottle of whisky. He poured three fingers into a glass and knocked it back then poured more. This time, he sipped.

  And waited.

  More than four hours later, Braxton returned. He took a seat in front of the desk.

  “Well?” he demanded. “Why the bloody hell did it take you so long?”

  “I had other stops to make after I left the orphanage. That was the tip of the iceberg. You won’t like it, Boss.”

  “I don’t have to like it,” Julius snapped. “Give me what you learned.”

  Braxton crossed one ankle over his knee. “She’s not Laurel Wright anymore.”

  “I figured she had changed her name. That’s what made it harder to track her,” he complained.

  “She changed her name because she got married.”

  “What?” he exclaimed.

  “She’s now the Duchess of Linfield,” Braxton revealed. “She’s also the half-sister of another duke.”

  Julius looked at his underling, clenching his jaw.

  “Apparently, she is a St. Clair.”

  He knew the name. All of London did. Jeremy St. Clair, Duke of Everton, had inherited little more than a title, thanks to his father’s gambling most of the family fortune away. The new duke had, through cunning and outrageous investments, not only recouped the losses but increased the family’s coffers tenfold. Julius had seen the man once and suddenly realized that Laurel Wright had the same uncanny green eyes.

  “She’s a bastard. We all knew that,” Braxton continued. “Her and her twin. Somehow, she made the connection that she was a St. Clair and the family took her in. She wed the Duke of Linfield a few weeks ago.”

  “That was fast work.”

  “Apparently, there was some hint of scandal and the duke had to marry her quickly by special license.”

  Julius knew the truth. Laurel Wright had seen an opportunity and spread her legs to ensnare a man with a lofty title.

  “Did you learn anything about him—the husband?”

  “He’s a war hero. Served directly under Wellington. He’s wealthy. Very wealthy.”

  An idea began forming in Julius’ mind. He raised his hand to keep Braxton quiet while he thought.

  Laurel Wright was now a wealthy woman. He would have her snatched up and held for ransom. A duke would pay a fortune for the return of his wife, especially if Julius told him if he didn’t, she would be raped repeatedly before being left on Linfield’s doorstep—and that he’d make sure all of London knew she’d been sullied. This duke might not care much for a woman who’d forced him into marriage but Linfield would care for his reputation. No man of the ton would want Polite Society to know about the atrocities that had happened to his wife.

  Of course, Julius had no intentions of returning Laurel to her duke. He would collect the hefty ransom, enough so that he’d never have to work a day in his life again. He’d also use Laurel up and then sell her to a brothel. Or kill her. It didn’t matter. What was important was she would be at his mercy. He would collect the debt she owed him.

  Julius smiled. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Monkton assessed Anthony and readjusted his cravat, nodding with satisfaction.

  “You are happy tonight, Your Grace?” the valet asked.

  The servant’s question took Anthony aback. Monkton rarely spoke, unless he was discussing members of the ton, and the man never asked anything personal of Anthony.

  “I am,” he admitted. “Very much so.”

  “Her Grace seems very happy these days, as well,” Monkton noted.

  “I hope she is.”

  For two weeks, he had gotten along splendidly with his duchess. They hadn’t argued once. He had done small things that he thought would please her. Taken her riding every morning. Brought her flowers once. Took her to her first opera. Complimented her gowns. It was funny how making an effort to be pleasant to his wife had buoyed his own spirits. He seemed to get more accomplished regarding business and his holdings. He didn’t mind going to social engagements as much. He even believed he had more energy—despite the lack of sleep. He’d made love to Laurel every night, learning more of what pleased her. Making her happy, in and out of bed, had been a goal worth setting and more easily accomplished than he could have imagined.

  He also had grown protective of Hannah. Ever since he saw her for the eager, sweet girl that she was and not an extension of her father, he’d grown fonder of her. She had picked up on the difference in his attitude and was effervescent and charming with him. Anthony had even begun looking into a few of the young bachelors who seemed most interested in her, making subtle inquiries into the gentlemen and their backgrounds. Her father had left Hannah a substantial dowry, as befitted the daughter of a duke. Anthony didn’t want some penniless suitor sweeping her off her feet simply to get his hands on that dowry. He wanted Hannah to find lasting happiness.

  He cut through the rooms that connected his to Laurel’s and entered. She sat in front of a mirror and watched as Retta styled her hair. Tonight, the black mane was swept high on her head with small tendrils floating along the sides. Her gown was a rich red, the neckline low, revealing a creamy expanse of skin. His eyes dropped to the rounded tops of her breasts.

  “That will be all, Retta,” she told the maid, who quickly exited the room.

  Anthony went and placed a hand on her bare shoulder, sliding his thumb back and forth. She shivered. He lowered his lips to her nape and nibbled on it, causing her to giggle. He slid his hand from her shoulder to her chin, holding it and then turning her head to the side so he could feast upon her neck. Her sigh was the sweetest sound he’d heard all day.

  “You haven’t any jewels on yet,” he noted, his gaze holding hers in the mirror.

  “I couldn’t decide if the diamonds or pearls would look best. Shall I try on each and let you decide?”

  “I prefer these.”

  He pulled his other hand from where it rested behind his back and placed the case on the dressing table in front of her. Anthony had already discussed with Retta what Laurel would wear tonight and had made the appropriate choice from the safe.

  “What? Another gift?”

  “Open it.”

  She lowered her eyes and hesitated for a moment, then lifted the lid. He looked over her shoulder at the ruby necklace and earrings resting against the dark blue velvet.

  Laurel shook her head. “They’re too much. You give me far too much.”

  He placed his hands on her shoulders. “You give me more in return.” His lips caressed the side of her throat. He longed to cup her breasts but that would lead to him undressing her. As it was, Hannah and Aunt Constance probably waited for them downstairs.

  Reaching out, he lifted the necklace and placed the rubies about her neck. They were the exact shade of her dress, a perfect match.

  “Put on the earrings,” he urged. “My fingers aren’t as nimble as yours.”

  She lifted one to her earlobe and snorted. “Your fingers are quite nimble, Your Grace. I remember them being so only last night.”

  He thought of where he had put his fingers and swallowed. “Maybe I can place them in the same places tonight.”

  Her eyes shone. “You can try,” she said, grinning at him.

  Anthony pulled her to her feet and kissed her hard. As he’d feared, Laurel had become a drug he was addicted to. What had changed is he no longer cared if she knew. His desire for her was too great.

  He broke the kiss. “One earring won’t do, Duchess. You better put on the other one. Unless you are planning to start a new trend of wearing only one earring to balls.”

  She laughed throatily and attached the other to her earlobe. He kissed her lightly.

  “There. You are perfect now.”

  Escorting her downstairs, he saw Hannah waiting and asked, “Where is Aunt Constance?”

  “I’m here, my darlings.” The older woman hurried down the stairs. “Oh, my. Those rubies are exquisite, Laurel. They look as if they were made for you.”

  The younger women turned to go. Aunt Constance touched Anthony’s arm, holding him back. “Well done, Anthony. Very well done.”

  The carriage ride to Lord and Lady Prattford’s seemed to take forever. Traffic was heavier than usual. Hannah constantly tapped her foot. At least Anthony knew why. Laurel had told him they were to meet a certain Lord Brixley tonight. Laurel had already met the viscount at tea when he’d visited—twice. Tonight, though, Brixley had to pass inspection from Anthony.

  They finally arrived and joined the crush of people entering the townhouse. After interminable minutes in the receiving line, Hannah was off with her friends. He and Laurel joined Lord and Lady Alford. The two women immediately began talking about the latest novel their book club would discuss next week. He and Alford talked boxing and the latest illegal match to be held outside London in two days’ time. Though women weren’t supposed to attend boxing matches, they did so all the time. Because of that, Anthony was considering asking Laurel if she wished to go with him. The carriage ride would be at least two hours to get there.

  A lot of kissing could occur in two hours.

  “Hannah wishes for us to join her,” Laurel said.

  “How do you know that?” he asked. “I’ve kept my eyes on her the entire time Alford and I have been talking.”

  “It’s the fan,” the earl told him. “Women send messages all the time using their fans.”

  “They do?” Anthony asked, perplexed.

  “Clearly, you’re clueless, Linfield,” Alford said, laughing.

  “I must be. Are we to rescue Hannah?” he asked his wife as they started in his sister’s direction.

  “No. Quite the opposite. She wants us to meet Brixley.”

  They arrived and the viscount greeted Laurel, kissing her hand. “You are a vision of loveliness tonight, Your Grace.”

  “Thank you, Lord Brixley. May I introduce my husband, the Duke of Linfield?”

  The two men eyed each other with interest as they shook hands.

  “I hear you’ve called upon my sister,” he said gruffly.

  “Yes, Your Grace. Lady Hannah is a remarkable young woman.”

  “I agree.”

  Anthony noticed the pleased look on both Hannah’s and Laurel’s faces and said, “Do you like horses, Brixley?”

  “I do, Your Grace. I have just purchased a new set to pull my curricle.”

  “Hmm. Why don’t you bring them around tomorrow afternoon? I can see them and you may stay for tea.”

  Brixley beamed. “Would it be possible after tea to take Lady Hannah riding in the park?”

  “I’ll think about it,” he said, not wanting to make things too easy for this suitor.

  They spoke a few more minutes and then the musicians began tuning their instruments.

  Brixley said, “I will see you for the supper dance, my lady,” and bowed to Hannah.

  The moment Brixley was out of earshot, Anthony asked his sister, “Do you like this one? Better than any of the others?”

  Hannah’s eyes shone. “I do, Anthony. Very much.”

  “Then you may ride with him in the park tomorrow. Only don’t tell him tonight. Let him keep wondering.”

  “Isn’t that a little cruel?” Laurel asked, though she failed to hide her mirth.

  “No, Anthony is right,” Hannah said. “Let Brixley work for me.”

  A gentleman came and claimed Hannah for the first dance and led her away.

  “Has your first dance been taken?” he asked his wife.

  “None have, Your Grace,” she replied, her smile flirtatious now.

  “Then I suppose I can have them all.”

  “That’s not really—”

  “Remember, Duchess, that I am a duke. If I want to dance with my wife once, thrice, or twenty times tonight, I will do as I please.”

  Laughter bubbled up from her. “Yes, Duke. Whatever you say.”

  He didn’t take every dance, knowing it wouldn’t be fair to monopolize her in such a manner. Anthony did dance several times with her, though. At one point, he watched her being twirled about on the dance floor. His aunt joined him.

  “You’ve been quite kind to Hannah recently.”

  “I feel protective of my sister,” he said, his eyes never leaving his wife. “I want her to make a good match. This Brixley fellow seems a decent sort.”

  “He is.” She paused. “Family seems to be growing on you, Anthony.”

  He faced her. “Laurel is growing on me.”

  Anthony went to the card room for a while and then decided to return to the ballroom and dance again with his duchess. He spotted her and immediately knew something was wrong. She was surrounded by several older women. Two were the nosy pair who had caught them kissing on the terrace that night at Everton’s. From the look on Laurel’s face and the color in her cheeks, the women were on the attack.

  As he reached them, his wife said, “You are cruel, vindictive women. My husband is the very best of men.”

  “He was forced to wed you,” one said. “I’m sure he wasn’t pleased being stuck with a bastard, half-sister to Everton when he could have done much better.”

  Fury filled him. He knew he couldn’t strike a lady but he had to rescue Laurel and put an end to this attack.

  “Actually, Linfield is most pleased with me,” Laurel said calmly. “And I with him. You’re wrong about him, Lady Chatham. My husband is not cold. He is a warm, kindhearted man. One whom I am proud to be a wife to. He is a war hero—but he’s also my hero. He rescued me when I didn’t know I even needed rescuing.”

  Anthony stepped to her and slipped his arm about her waist. “There you are, my love. Are you ready to leave?” He looked deep into her eyes, letting her know he had overheard what had been said.

  “Yes,” she said, her head high.

  “Good. Because I cannot wait to have you in my bed.”

  The women in the circle audibly gasped, which is exactly the reaction he had wanted from them. Anthony tore his eyes from Laurel and gazed about the circle.

  “This is the last time any of you will ever address my duchess. You are nothing more than a bunch of spiteful, malevolent, dried-up gossips, spreading your malicious rumors. I’ve never seen a more savage, heartless, unkind group of women in my entire life.”

  The women’s fear was obvious from the look of terror on their faces as they absorbed his words.

  “As the Duke of Linfield, I wield power you can only begin to imagine. As of this moment, I will never recognize any of you. Neither will anyone in my family, as well as the Duke of Everton’s, my wife’s family. You officially have received my cut direct. I warn you—never cross my path or that of my duchess. If you do, you will regret it. If I hear that even one of you have mentioned my wife’s name to someone else, I will destroy not only that person and her family—but all those present here and those families.”

  Anthony saw the group of ruthless biddies quaked in fear.