Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

" Y our Grace, two men from Scotland Yard are here to see you."

James looked up from the ledger to see his butler standing in the doorway to his study. Behind him stood two men in uniform, looking around at the resplendent hall with awed looks on their faces.

"Right, send them in," James instructed, rubbing his eyes and slapping his cheeks lightly to try and wake himself up. He'd been working for hours, and he was having trouble keeping his eyes open.

The two men from Scotland Yard were shown into the study, and the butler bowed as he shut the door behind him.

"Constable Grimms," said the first man, who had a large mustache and looked about fifty. "And this is Constable Wales."

"How do you do?" James returned, offering them both snifters, which they declined. "Do you have news about the dog fights, then?"

"Yes," Constable Grimms replied, removing his hat. "And I'm afraid it's worse than we have anticipated. The gangs that have control of that parish have set up a sophisticated operation. They've managed to keep a hold on the parish because they don't allow any outside influence. Instead of bringing in dogs, which would mean coordinating with outside gangs, they breed them themselves. Those that are successful are shuffled between the different rings, while the ones that are not are… disposed of."

"And are the locals involved in this?" James asked. "Or is it mostly just gang members?"

The two officers exchanged a glance.

"At this point, there isn't much distinction between gang members and locals," Constable Wales explained. "That's what makes this operation so difficult to break up. As much as people might hate the fights, it's where most of them make their livelihoods. Almost every family in the parish has someone involved in the fights. Even those who aren't directly involved often profit from them, or at least the crowds that come in to watch."

James sat back in his chair, thinking hard. This was worse than he could have imagined. He'd been hoping that the dog fights were controlled by an outside group of ruffians whom the locals would be eager to see thrown out. But if the locals were profiting from the fights, then that would make it all the much harder to shut everything down.

"I think I'm going to have to go out there myself," he said after a moment. "Leaving this to the local constabulary will only breed more resentment. I need to go myself and see what needs to be done to ensure that the dog fighting stops for good and that the locals are able to pay their rent."

"You should just toss them all in jail," Constable Grimms said, shaking his head. "You can't reason with these people. They're just common thugs."

James felt a flash of anger. As much as he hated the gangs that had infiltrated his land, he also knew that many good, hard-working people joined them out of desperation.

And if they're so desperate that they're turning to dog fighting, then it's my job, as their landlord, to figure out how to help them.

"Thank you, that will be all," James said coolly.

Constable Grimms looked a little put out, but he bowed and left, Constable Wales following in his wake.

James sat at his desk for a moment longer, thinking, then he stood up and strode into the hall.

"Summon my valet," he ordered the butler, "and tell him to pack my things. I need to be ready to depart in the morning. And where are my wife and sister-in-law?"

"I'm here, James."

He looked up to see his wife descending the staircase. Her face was stricken, and for a second, his heart seemed to stop.

Has something happened?

"Were those constables I just saw?" she asked, and he noticed that her hands were shaking. "Did something happen with my father? Did they find him? Has he hurt someone?"

"Oh, no, it's nothing about your father," James said quickly, although he cursed himself that he hadn't thought of this right away and reassured her at once. "It has to do with the dog fighting rings on my land. I need to go out there tomorrow to see what I can do to put an end to it."

"All right," Violet breathed, nodding. "I'll let Rosalie know that we're leaving in the morning."

"Woah, woah, woah." James held up a hand. "I didn't say that you and your sister were coming with me. In fact, there's no way you are. It's too dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Violet repeated, and she looked as if she were about to laugh. "The dangerous thing would be to stay here, without you to protect us, while our father is still on the loose! In fact, if we're leaving town, then Mother should probably come as well. She won't be safe either."

"You'll all be perfectly safe here," James insisted, folding his arms. "I've hired more guards since the incident with the flowers, and there have been no other attempts to harm you or intimidate us since then."

"Yes, because you've been here!"

"Violet… you don't understand," he said slowly. "These gangs that run the dog fights are very dangerous. And with the number of people who have a vendetta against me, it would just be too risky to bring you along. Your lives could be in danger, and I would never forgive myself if something happened to you."

Violet, however, had put her hands on her hips, the look in her eyes brooking no argument.

"Some small-town gang is nothing compared to my father," she snapped. "He didn't run dog fighting rings—he ran an entire criminal enterprise. He has more power than you know. I suspect I don't know most of it either. And he isn't afraid to kill those he loves. It is far more dangerous for Rose, Mother, and I to stay here when you're gone than to go with you."

"But—"

Violet stepped off the bottom step and put a hand on his arm. Her beautiful green eyes blinked up at him.

"I'm not afraid of a gang of men who abuse dogs," she stated more quietly. "In fact, I rather think they should be afraid of me . But I am afraid of my father, and I don't want you to underestimate him. Just because we haven't heard from him in a while doesn't mean he isn't still out there, biding his time."

James wasn't sure if it was the persuasiveness of her argument or the warmth of her hand on his arm, but at last, he relented.

"All right," he sighed. "You can come. But under no circumstances are you allowed to get anywhere near the gang members."

Violet smiled. "And when you have ever known me to disobey your orders, Your Grace?"

"Your husband seems very interested in your safety," Rosalie noted as she peered out the carriage window.

Violet, who was sitting across from her and trying not to feel motion sickness, snorted.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, her temper flaring a little because of how hot and uncomfortable she felt. "I had to convince him to let us come with him. He was going to leave us at home, where Father could find us easily."

"Darling, don't scare your sister," their mother, who was sitting next to Rosalie, interjected. "We don't know that your father would have been able to harm us. And His Grace said he has the house guarded now."

"Anyway, that's not what I meant," Rosalie continued. "I was talking about the guards outside the carriage."

"The what?!" Violet moved to the edge of her seat and drew back the curtain, peering out at the road.

Her husband's carriage was behind them. He'd needed the space to work, so he had taken the smaller of their two carriages. He'd given the large one to Violet, her mother, and her sister.

In addition to her husband's carriage, however, were several men on horseback who, she realized, had pistols hanging at their sides.

"And look, he's riding behind us," Rosalie pointed out. "So if we were attacked, our carriage would be able to get away, and his wouldn't block ours."

"You don't know that's the reason he's behind us," Violet scoffed.

"Yes, I do. I heard several of the groomsmen talking about it when they were hitching up the horses." Rosalie smiled at her. "He's so dashing, your husband. He's protective of you, but he doesn't even crow about it. Most men would—they'd want you to know how strong and powerful they are. But His Grace has never done that. It must mean he really cares about you."

Violet fell silent for a moment, thinking about this. She supposed it did make her feel better to know that her husband took her safety seriously. But wasn't that the bare minimum? She had given up her chance to have a happy married life with children so that he would protect her and her family. She didn't need to fall over herself with gratitude simply because he was fulfilling his end of the bargain.

"That's enough of your romantic foolishness," she said to her sister.

She didn't want to be harsh, but her sister's tendency to romanticize everything, even her marriage of convenience, was starting to grate on her nerves.

"The Duke is simply doing his duty—don't get carried away."

Her mother shot her a questioning look, but Violet looked away. She didn't want to deal with answering her questions about the state of her marriage. She just wanted to focus on keeping all of them safe.

James's duchy was large, and by the time they arrived at their destination, a small town near the northwest border, it was evening, and Violet was very tired and ready for a hot bath. However, the carriage door had just swung open when the barking of what sounded like twenty rabid dogs filled the air. Seconds later, several snouts appeared in the opening, as if half a dozen dogs were trying to push their way inside.

"Down!" Violet heard the footmen shouting. "Get down!"

"Oh my goodness!" Lady Carfield cried, scooting as far back as she could on the bench. "They've sent rabid dogs after us already!"

Rosalie yelped in fear and also scooted back on the bench, her eyes wide with fear.

Violet also felt fear seize her chest.

Are these the dogs they use to fight? Are they tearing at the footmen right now? And what about my husband? Are they attacking him as they speak?

After all, James had said that there were a number of people who had a vendetta against him. Was it possible that one of the gang members involved in the dog fights had set the dogs on them as a warning?

The thought of James being harmed sent a violent tremor through Violet, and without thinking, she sprang forward and wrenched open the door. She had no idea what she was going to do. It wasn't like she was going to save her husband from a pack of rabid dogs, but her instincts were still screaming at her to protect him.

But when she pushed open the door of the carriage, she found James and the footmen patting the heads of a small pack of mangy dogs, whose tongues were lolling out and whose tails were wagging with pleasure.

"Here, I've got some treats for them!" her husband said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out several biscuits. He fed them to the closest dog and then rubbed its snout. "Good boy," he said, grinning in delight.

It was hard for Violet not to grin as well.

They were outside an inn on the outskirts of what appeared to be a village, and there were at least two dozen dogs around them, all of whom looked the worse for wear. Some of them were limping, a few were missing legs or parts of their tails, and many had chunks missing from their ears. Their furs were patchy, and they were skinnier than Violet would have liked. But they were all, without a doubt, sweet.

Even the ones who were leaping up onto the carriages and the footmen's laps were doing so with big, happy smiles on their faces, drool falling from their mouths. It made Violet's heart ache to see them. Despite the hardships they had experienced, these dogs were still kind, affectionate, and eager for love.

I wonder if I could be like that .

The thought was sudden and unbidden. She immediately pushed it away. Love was not something she had ever hoped for, and being eager for it would only render her vulnerable to pain and humiliation.

Her eyes flickered to her husband, and she watched as one of the dogs jumped up on him and barked lovingly. He began to play with it, chasing it around the carriage, laughing in an unrestrained way that she had never heard before. It made her heart clench to see him like that.

Although he often made jokes and laughed when he teased her, it wasn't like this. This was the laughter of someone truly enjoying himself, not just someone who was trying to come across as carefree. And she wondered, watching him, how lonely it must be to always wear a mask.

After several minutes of playing with the dogs, James joined her by the carriage. The footmen had already started taking down the trunks and carrying them into the inn, and Rosalie and Lady Carfield had gone inside with them, eager to avoid the dogs, even though they were friendly. Rosalie, especially, was not an animal person.

"How do you know these dogs?" Violet asked as James came to stand next to her. "They're strays, aren't they?"

"They're strays of a sort," James admitted. "They belong to the village, and the townspeople take care of them. These are the dogs that used to be part of the dog fights."

Violet shouldn't have been surprised. Considering how many injuries they had, it was clear the dogs had been in some violent tussles. But she had assumed that after the dog fights, the gang members had gotten rid of the evidence. Although she didn't like to think about what exactly that entailed.

"My father's criminal enterprises have always been a well-known secret among the ton," James explained. "The most profitable, and the one that the ton most often overlooked, was dog fighting. The fights were popular, and many of the lords used to wager on them, which is why he was never shunned for allowing such a gruesome activity to take place in his duchy. When I was still the heir, there wasn't much I could do to stop him. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't interfere with my father's businesses. The one thing I could do was try and rescue as many of the dogs as I could."

One of the dogs walked over, and James scratched behind its ear absentmindedly. "The ones that weren't drowned or shot—the ones that were sure to die of their injuries anyway—were left out in an alleyway behind one of the more popular rings. I would rescue them, along with the men I hired to help me. There was a kindly veterinarian who rehabilitated my father's horses, so I would take the dogs to him and he would heal them.

"After that, I'd try to find homes for them. The ones with fewer injuries were easier to place. These"—he gestured to the dogs around them—"were the unwanted ones. This village, which is just outside the jurisdiction of the gang, agreed to watch over them. The townsfolk feed them, and the priest lets them sleep in the church in the winter when it's very cold."

Violet felt so many emotions that at first, she didn't know what to say. A very strong part of her felt so angry at the thought of the dogs being forced to fight that she wished she could scream at the men who had done this to them—especially her husband's late father, whom she was now very glad she had never met.

But her anger was also tempered by the deep pride and admiration she felt for her husband, that he would defy his father and put himself in harm's way to rescue the dogs.

"You like to protect vulnerable creatures, don't you?" she asked after a moment. "I was unsure, at first, why you were so quick to protect me and Rosalie. But now I see—it's in your nature. It's what you've been doing your whole life."

James blinked as if he had never thought about it that way before. For a moment, she thought he was going to respond kindly, even tenderly. But then he scowled at her.

"I'm merely doing my duty," he said curtly. "My father's dog rings were the worst of his illegal activities. They were shut down after he died, but this particular gang keeps operating them, and I won't stand for it, Violet. Just because I was in London for the Season, doesn't mean I do not notice everything."

Violet nodded, and as she looked up at the determined expression on her husband's face, she softened just a little towards him. She still found him arrogant to a fault, but it was nice to know there was another side of him, other than the one that enjoyed tearing down his enemies and teasing her mercilessly.

And she found herself wondering if perhaps there were more sides to him than she had initially thought.