The Duke's Dilemma Read Online Free PDF Page A

was aware the wearer of the boots was talking. What he
said slowly filtered into her muddled senses.
    Quite forgetting she was supposed to be unaware
she attempted to sit upright, but the effort proved too much and her head spun.
She sunk back clutching her forehead, unable to hold back the gasp of pain.
    Instantly Waverly was at her side and without
asking permission slipped his arms under her knees and shoulders and lifted her
easily. She was too sick and dizzy to protest. She was outraged the man who had
caused her hurt was now acting as her saviour . She
remembered quite clearly the moment of terror as a grip of iron had circled her
neck and thrown her head first into the wall. This man was a brute, almost a
murderer. Perhaps he had done away with Aunt Agatha. These were her last
coherent thoughts before a whirling blackness enveloped her for a second time.
    *
    Ralph decided it would be too cumbersome to
attempt the narrow stairs the servants used whilst carrying an unconscious girl
so he turned and bounded back down the corridor, out into the grand hall, and
took the wide oak stairs two at a time. He remembered from previous visits
which apartment Miss Frobisher used. His great aunt had indicated their
whereabouts and told him about the girl, although until today he had never had
the pleasure of making her acquaintance. If he had known how beautiful she was
he might have been less reluctant to meet her.
    He smiled grimly; he had hardly endeared
himself to her by his monstrous treatment. He shouldered his way into her
private sitting room. God, it was cold as ice everywhere in this barracks of a
house.
    ‘Robin, go downstairs and find something to
light a fire in her bedroom. I’m sure between you, you can rustle up something
to burn. If you can’t find any fuel, use a chair.’
    He supposed he shouldn’t be entering a lady’s
bedchamber but needs must. He was uncomfortably aware the man with the pistol
was shadowing him, a hand’s breadth from his shoulder at all times; obviously a
retainer of some sort, he didn’t trust him as far as he could spit.
    ‘Quick man, check if the bed is damp. If it is
I’ll wrap her in that comforter and rest her on the daybed in front of the
fire.’ The man didn’t argue, just stepped round him.
      ‘The
bed’s no good, your grace.’ Ralph watched him remove the comforter holding it
to his cheek. ‘This will do, I’ll fetch that chaise-longue over. I reckon there’s enough kindling to start the
fire and some coal left in the scuttle.’ The man’s expression lightened a
trifle as he added. ‘And if there isn’t, I’ll smash a chair or two, shall I?’
    Ralph stood patiently holding the girl with her
face resting against his shoulder; he couldn’t help noticing the length of her
lashes and the way they curled enticingly at the ends. What colour had her eyes
been? He’d only glimpsed them for a second before she’d collapsed. He rather
thought they were a mixture of green and brown, like his own, a perfect
complement to her hair, which lay in abundant tresses around her shoulders. It
was only then he became aware that her hair was wet.
    ‘Why’s Miss Frobisher’s hair wet?’
    The man, scrabbling away with the tinderbox in
the fender, answered without looking up from his task . ‘She fell in the river
on the way over here, your grace.’
    Everything about this trip was baffling. Ralph
shook his head. First the urgent summons to come to Neddingfield Hall, then the
barred gates, the lack of accommodation at the Jug and Bottle, and finally
discovering an unknown relative playing hide and go seek on the stairs.
    Where the hell was Aunt Agatha? The place was
under covers and there were no signs of recent occupation in the kitchen
either. He hadn’t had time to search more than the downstairs rooms. He would
need to examine his aunt’s chambers and discover what kind of clothes she had
taken with her as it was possible this might give him a clue to her
whereabouts.