Chapter 29

29

The wheelsof Spencer’s skeleton gig rattled as he drove, while the steady clop of his black horse’s hooves punctuated the air.

Behind him, his family rode in Preston’s and Richard’s carriages, except for Grandmama, who wanted to give Ashton a piece of her own mind. She rode in her own carriage after Richard’s, with the army of three dogs—Jane’s foxhound, Hercules, and Calliope and Nathaniel’s two largest dogs, the mutt, Orion, and the mastiff, Argos. Nathaniel’s sister Hazel, twin sisters Violet and Poppy, and his third dog, the beagle, Cerberus, were left back at home to keep them out of danger.

Surprising himself, Spencer was glad to have his family’s support. He didn’t need to push them away anymore to heal. On the contrary, letting in the people who loved him most in the world gave him strength and allowed him to feel complete.

The only one he was missing from his life was Joanna.

Neverton Place was well visible down the path among the trees, grand as a palace, surrounded by a gorgeous cast-iron fence and gate. It was a fifteen-minute drive away from Mayfair, in an area with no buildings around. He was going to do the only right thing he could. He was going to negotiate for Joanna’s family in exchange for him not pursuing Ashton criminally. Once Spencer ensured Charlotte’s safety and obtained Gideon’s deed, he’d go to Joanna, drop on his knees, and beg her to forgive him and to marry him.

But as they approached, a rich carriage drove out of the gates, and when it reached Spencer, he could see Ashton’s coat of arms on the door. Two black horses pulled it at high speed, and an uneasy feeling turned in Spencer’s gut. Of course it could be the Duchess of Ashton driving out, but… He pulled the reins and stopped, watching the carriage with a frown. As it passed by him, he looked into the window. He could see two people inside… The first one, sitting farther from him, was clearly a man—Ashton, no doubt. And closer to him, at the window, sat…

Joanna!

Neither of them noticed him as the carriage swished past, both looking at each other in what appeared to be a heated discussion.

Two carriages full of men in navy uniforms followed. There must be twelve thugs altogether!

Spencer’s heart was threatening to jump out of his chest. He turned the gig around and, yelling for his family’s coachmen to follow him, drove.

Spencer spurred his horse, and it charged forward at full speed.

She was in danger! She was in the exact situation he was terrified to put her in—and it was all his fault. Had he not pushed her…had he not realized how foolish and selfish he had been…had he been more like her— kind and sweet and selfless—he’d already have had Ashton in the palm of his hand, and she would never have been implicated.

He followed Ashton’s carriage, and saw that his family followed him, too.

Suddenly, he saw another carriage driving at full speed towards them. It slowed down, letting Ashton’s vehicles pass, and when Spencer glanced into the window, with astonishment, he saw Dorian, who glared at everything with a confused, but furious face. In the one moment that their eyes connected, Spencer gestured for him to follow them.

When he looked back a few minutes later, he saw Dorian’s carriage following them.

They drove around London, heading east, eventually turning onto the road Spencer and Joanna had taken to reach Tilbury. The traffic reduced here, and Spencer finally saw an opportunity to overcome them. He urged the horse and drove ahead. He could feel the wind all around him, every stone and crease in the road rattling him. This was highly dangerous, he knew. The skeleton gig was quick and light, but if he hit an uneven place and the gig were to careen, he could end up under the gig or the horse, and that could be a life-ending accident.

Despite the danger he kept spurring the horse, and finally passed the two carriages full of men and drew level with Ashton’s carriage and could see inside. Joanna turned to him and opened her mouth in shock, her eyes wide. He locked his gaze with hers, silently promising her she’d be all right. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

Ashton, unfortunately, saw him, too. His face grew livid, his brows drawn together in a furious mask. He reached with his walking stick and knocked on the opposite wall, and his carriage sped up.

Spencer spurred his horse faster yet, trying to catch up. But just as he got an advantage again, Ashton’s vehicle suddenly lurched to the side, attempting to box Spencer in between the carriage and the ditch on the side of the road. The maneuver was risky, and for a heart-stopping moment, the wheels of Spencer’s skeleton gig teetered dangerously close to the edge.

Spencer’s heart raced, and his instincts took over. He yanked the reins hard to the left, narrowly avoiding the ditch. The black horse, sensing the urgency, let out a defiant neigh and surged forward with renewed vigor. The gig’s wheels wobbled precariously, but Spencer’s expert handling kept it from toppling over.

Something exploded behind him.

A rush of hot air passed by his ear.

He felt like that explosion blasted right in his stomach. His back tensed like a wooden board; his breath caught in his throat as though two giant fists clenched around his windpipe. He felt the gig sway violently under him like the ship, could almost see the cannonballs flying around him, about to hit. The images of war, and his rising horror, and the breath of death over him made him want to crawl into himself and run.

But Joanna…

Joanna…

Her very name running through his head sounded like a blessing. He needed to stay strong for her. He couldn’t fall apart. Once again, just like back on that ship, he had to believe in love. Had to live…for love. But for a deeper, truer love this time. The love for someone real and not just a lovely, perfect image.

Without knowing if he’d lose her like he’d lost Penelope.

But because love was worth any risk and because they both deserved a happy ending.

He took a cleansing breath, the onrush of terror still surging through him in prickling waves. Without feeling his legs or arms, he turned around and saw smoke enveloping one of the carriages full of Ashton’s men. One of them, the one who sat next to the driver, held a pistol in his hand and was charging it once again. Behind them, his family’s three carriages and Rath’s carriage followed.

With a burst of speed, Spencer managed to pull ahead of Ashton’s carriage. He could hear the shouts of his family’s coachmen behind him, urging their horses on, but he couldn’t afford to look back. Every ounce of his focus was on the road ahead and the dangerous game of cat and mouse he was playing with Ashton.

With a final, determined push, Spencer pulled his gig across the path of Ashton’s carriage, forcing it to a screeching halt. The horses reared up, their hooves flailing in the air, and the carriage rocked dangerously. Spencer jumped down from his gig, his eyes locked on to Ashton’s, challenging him to make a move.

Behind him, the sounds of the two carriages full of men and his family’s carriages pulling up filled the air, but all Spencer could think of was Joanna.

He had to get to her, to ensure she was safe.

Ashton got out of the carriage, furious. Malicious venom distorted his handsome face. He pulled out a pistol, pointing it at Spencer.

Spencer was barely aware that more men were descending from the two carriages behind, and he heard Nathaniel’s cry and saw him point his own pistol into the crowd of the men, drawing his saber at the same time. Dorian jumped from his carriage with a pistol in one hand and a saber in the other.

Spencer’s heart beat very fast. Calliope…Jane…Penelope…and his grandmama—they all were there, too!

All the people he loved in this world were here, and they were all in mortal danger.

Because of him.

“Hands in the air,” said Ashton, holding Spencer’s gaze. He looked at his coachman. “Peter, tie his arms behind his back.”

Spencer wasn’t going to let anyone bind his hands. Ashton’s coachman was a large man, but Spencer had fought bigger men in Portside boxing rings. Peter approached him with a length of rope in hand, and a face full of threat. The coachman was broad-shouldered and thickset, with a brutish look about him. Spencer could tell he relished the idea of overpowering him.

Spencer glanced to his family’s carriages and saw that his two brothers were now outside, as well. Together with Dorian, they fought with Ashton’s thugs. Nathaniel’s saber glistened in the dull gray light of the day as he swung it. Richard and Preston worked their fists. Dorian engaged in a sword fight with two of Ashton’s men. Grandmama’s carriage door was open, and with tremendous growls and barks, the three hounds launched into the crowd of thugs.

But Spencer had his own battle to fight. As Peter lunged forward, aiming to grab Spencer’s arms, Spencer sidestepped, using the coachman’s momentum against him. Peter stumbled but quickly regained his balance, turning to face Spencer with a snarl.

Spencer couldn’t rely on his usual footwork or strength because of his thigh. Instead, he had to use his wits and agility. He feinted to the left, drawing Peter in, then swiftly ducked under the coachman’s outstretched arms, landing a solid punch to his midsection. Peter grunted, winded, but retaliated with a wild swing aimed at Spencer’s head.

Spencer dodged, feeling the rush of air as the fist narrowly missed him. He countered with a quick jab to Peter’s face, feeling the satisfying crunch of contact. But the pain in his thigh was growing, a sharp reminder of his vulnerability.

Peter, sensing Spencer’s weakening state, grinned maliciously and lunged again. This time, Spencer wasn’t quick enough. The coachman’s meaty hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling him off-balance. The two men grappled, each trying to gain the upper hand.

Out of the corner of his eye, Spencer noticed a quick flash of white dress. Suddenly, a sharp, commanding female voice cut through the tension. “Enough!”

Both men froze, turning to see Joanna standing with a pistol aimed squarely at Ashton. Her face was pale but determined, her eyes filled with fire.

Ashton stood with a look of surprise on his face.

“Let him go, Peter,” she ordered, her voice unwavering. “Or I swear, I’ll pull this trigger.”

“You bitch,” growled Ashton. “You filched my pistol!”

His hand went to the small of his back where the firearm had been discreetly tucked into the waistband of his breeches, now notably absent.

Joanna’s eyebrow cocked. “Sometimes being unnoticeable yields its own rewards.”

As Spencer’s eyes locked on to Joanna’s determined stance, a swell of emotions surged within him. Her golden hair caught the sun, and strands of it had escaped her bonnet, framing her face in a glimmering halo. Her green eyes, usually soft and inviting, now sparkled with a fierce determination that only heightened her beauty. She was magnificent. Spencer’s heart swelled with admiration. In that moment, she was not just the woman he loved, but a force to be reckoned with, and he felt an overwhelming surge of pride and desire.

“Joanna, do not be ridiculous!” scoffed Ashton as he walked to her with his outstretched hand. “You’re not going to shoo—”

A deafening boom split the air, scaring a flock of birds into flight behind the line of trees. Smoke filled the air around Joanna, and Spencer felt his heart jump, hoping to see Ashton on the ground. But he was unharmed, only angry.

“You silly, silly girl!” he said. “You missed your only chance.”

Spencer, still grappling with Peter, took advantage of the coachman’s momentary distraction. With a swift move, he twisted Peter’s arm behind him, using his own weight to force the larger man to his knees. “Enough, Peter,” Spencer growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Your master’s game is up. It’s best if you cooperate.”

Peter, panting and clearly outmatched, nodded reluctantly. “Fine,” he spat out. “I haven’t been paid in six months anyway. I owe him no loyalty.”

Spencer released him, standing tall despite the pain in his thigh. Another loud explosion rent the air, and a searing pain erupted through Spencer’s left shoulder. He glanced down to see a dark stain spreading across his coat.

When he looked at Ashton again, he had regained his pistol, apparently managing to reload it during the scuffle, and was fuming, a satisfied smirk on his face.

A woman screamed, and Spencer’s gaze returned to Joanna. Her horrified face was fixed on him, and she was just about to run to him when Ashton lunged at her, his hand moving towards his boot. A cold dread gripped Spencer’s heart.

Time slowed.

Spencer struggled to rise, but he felt like he was moving through mud. Several feet away, the fight between his family continued. One of Ashton’s men was slashing with his saber at Argos, Hercules, and Orion, all three growled at him, their teeth bared, fur on their backs bristling, lips curled back in a snarl, revealing very sharp fangs. Hercules, the smallest of the three, made lunges forward, trying to bite the man at the ankle.

Nathaniel’s saber gleamed in the dim light as he parried the attacks of two opponents. He was backed up against a gnarled oak tree, a mask of fury on his face. Spencer saw Calliope, who still sat in one of the carriages, position a pistol in the open door and fire. One of Nathaniel’s assailants fell with a scream, but yet another one took his place.

Pride for Calliope’s shooting skills filled Spencer’s chest, but it would take her time to reload a pistol.

Richard slammed the head of another man against Ashton’s second carriage, and he fell. Then Richard ran towards Preston, who was being backed into a corner by two men. Suddenly, a walking stick appeared through the slit between Grandmama’s carriage door and one of Preston’s opponents fell. That gave Richard an advantage. As the man rose, he didn’t have enough swing, and Richard delivered a strong punch to the man’s jaw.

All this seemed to pass in a flash as Ashton removed the blade he’d had stashed in his boot, continuing his lunge towards Joanna. Her eyes widened as she stumbled backward.

Spencer’s breath caught in his throat. He fought with the pain, with the exhaustion, and with the fear for her life.

“Joanna!” he yelled as he pushed his sluggish body up.

He moved too slowly. He’d be too late! It was as if he were trapped in a nightmare, forced to watch helplessly as the woman he loved faced mortal danger. He finally forced himself to his feet, blood running down his arm, but he was too far!

Roaring, he took a few stumbling steps to shield her from harm.

Joanna’s foot caught on a stone, and she fell to the ground. Ashton towered over her, his face twisted in a triumphant sneer. He raised the blade, ready to strike the fatal blow.

Joanna’s mouth opened in a silent cry. Spencer’s whole world was about to shatter like the ship blown up by a cannon, like his leg, only this time, it would never come back together.

If he could heal, if life made sense, it would only be with her alive.

Panic exploded in his chest as he lumbered forward. It felt as though the earth itself were conspiring against him, clinging to his feet in an effort to ensnare him and hold him back.

Dorian, who had been engaged in a fierce duel nearby, caught sight of Joanna. With a warrior’s cry, he broke free from his opponent and charged towards Ashton. His opponent followed him.

But the cry was enough to stop Ashton’s arm, and he looked up. At full speed, Dorian lunged at Ashton.

Ashton, caught off guard, turned just as Dorian’s body collided with his. The two men tumbled to the ground, but Dorian’s original opponent grabbed him by the coat and yanked him up, turned him around, and delivered a terrible punch into Rath’s face.

As though Dorian had become a different man from one moment to the next, his face distorted into a mask of fury. If there had ever been Ares, the god of war, he was right there, in Dorian. With a few precise, lightning-fast punches delivered like bullets, his opponent was again disoriented and backing up.

As Joanna scrambled to her feet, Ashton stood up, his knife still in his hand.

Spencer was just a few steps away. Dorian had given him enough time.

With a roar, Spencer threw himself at Ashton, using his good arm to tackle him to the ground. Spencer managed to pin Ashton beneath him, using his weight to keep him down.

“You’ve taken everything from me,” Spencer growled. “But you won’t take her.”

Ashton’s teeth were bared, and his face was distorted with a desperate fury as he kept thrusting the knife over and over at Spencer’s side. Despite the pain, Spencer blocked Ashton’s forearm with his own. As they wrestled in the dust, every muscle in Spencer’s body tensed, straining for control.

Finally, Spencer managed to use his good arm to grab the wrist of Ashton’s knife-wielding hand. He pressed his injured arm against Ashton’s throat. Ashton’s struggles weakened, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Let me go, fool!” Ashton croaked.

“Your greed ruined countless lives,” Spencer said through gritted teeth. “You left families without fathers, brothers, sons!”

“I just make the guns!” Ashton grunted out, his free hand clawing at Spencer’s neck.

Spencer squeezed Ashton’s wrist so hard, the knife fell from the man’s grasp. In his peripheral vision, Spencer saw Joanna grab the blade and step away. Brave, smart girl.

“I cannot be held responsible for the war!” Ashton continued his tirade. “I only made a smart business decision. And the spying… The Americans would get their information somewhere else if not from me!”

“You bastard,” Spencer spat out. “You cannot take responsibility even now! I waited almost a year for this!”

As he raised his head, he saw his family hurrying to him. Ashton’s men lay around, knocked out, or were running away into the woods, holding their sides, limping.

Calliope, who held her head high, came closer to Ashton, her yellow dress bright against the greenery behind her.

“Well, look at you. Not so high and mighty now,” she said with triumph.

“Are you all right, sister?” asked Spencer. He looked over his family. His brothers had bruises and cuts on their faces, torn clothes, and split knuckles, and Penelope, Jane, and Calliope had dust on their clothes. Jane had a bloody knife in her hand, and Penelope had a piece of wooden plank, which she held like a club.

Calliope held a pistol with smoke coming out of it.

“Yes, I’m fine. Even better now,” she said. “Now I want to know everything. How about how you ended up giving secrets to the Americans in the first place?” asked Calliope.

She frowned at Rath as he strode up, clearly trying to place him.

When Ashton remained silent, scowling up at Calliope, Spencer added a little pressure to his hold. “It all started at a soirée,” Ashton gasped out. “A man pretending to be a diplomat approached me. He was charming and held a good conversation. He hinted that he knew about my financial troubles and offered money for sensitive information. It seemed like an easy way out, but it turned into a trap I couldn’t escape.”

“And who’s your contact in America?” asked Calliope.

Spencer squeezed again when Ashton glared silently. “Colonel Jonathan Hargrave, a high-ranking member of the Department of War,” the trapped duke said between gritted teeth. “He holds a powerful position, responsible for gathering intelligence on our British military efforts.”

“What did you have over Admiral Langden? Why was he so afraid of you?”

“Do not dare answer that,” said Dorian coldly, pressing a saber against Ashton’s neck. The man swallowed and nodded. “That is not your secret to tell.”

Spencer understood his friend and didn’t want to press. He knew Calliope would understand, too.

“All right,” she said. “But you’re responsible for what happened to Nathaniel’s twin sisters. So here’s for them!”

Calliope swung her arm back and punched Ashton in the nose. A crack sounded and Ashton groaned in pain.

“Violet will always have a scar, and Poppy will always have the nightmare of the attempted kidnapping.”

“Ah!” yelled Ashton. “You bitch.”

“Do not dare call my sister anything but Duchess,” said Spencer. He pulled the elbow of his healthy arm back and, with a boxer’s jab he’d known for years, rammed his knuckles into Ashton’s face.

There was a slap of flesh against flesh and then Ashton fell back unconscious.