Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

“Dammit…”

Dorian awoke to a throbbing pain in his head, a fierce ache that pulsed with each and every heartbeat. The realization that he was kidnapped hit him as he instinctively struggled against his tight restraints. The cold, damp air in the dark room enveloped him. Glancing about the space, he realized he was completely alone. His only company was the scurrying rats.

A sliver of light spilled in from underneath the single door, but it wasn’t enough to make sense of just where he was. As he shifted in the wooden chair, it was clear that he had been tied to it—tight enough that he was losing feeling in his hands.

Dorian shifted, edging the chair toward the door with quick movements, the legs scraping across the grimy floor.

Suddenly, the door flew open, and he had to squint against the sudden harsh light.

As his vision cleared, the figure stepped into the darkness, illuminated by a lantern. Shadows danced across his face, his features appearing deeper and more sinister as the light moved and adjusted. Dorian’s gaze narrowed, grappling with the truth.

He had suspected the man, but he had hoped that it had all been a matter of coincidence. Dorian thought back to his late-night visit to a certain establishment, where he had bribed Madam Catherine for names. The Earl of Amsbury’s name had been among them. He inwardly cursed himself for being so blind, but this was no time to wallow in his self-loathing.

“Finally.” Nicholas Hervey, the Earl of Amsbury sighed. His usually friendly tone had long been abandoned, and he seemed more cold, more calculated.

As Nicholas leaned forward, he offered Dorian a curt nod.

Dorian held his tongue, his head still throbbing.

“Did you enjoy your wedding gift? I painted it from memory, you know.” Nicholas chuckled, his words sending a shiver down Dorian’s spine.

The words seemed to echo in his mind, playing over and over again. Slowly, it began to make sense to him. Realization washed over him like a tidal wave.

“You had him killed,” Dorian stated.

It seemed evident now that the one who had his brother murdered was none other than the earl himself. The painting, the wedding gift, was a scene from that night. The realization shook him to the core, and he could feel his muscles tense and his jaw tighten.

Nicholas nodded. “I did. And, just like you, I gave him every opportunity to pay off his debts. When idle threats did not work, I had no choice but to take more extreme measures.”

Dorian struggled against his bindings, but when they did not loosen, he found himself without any other option. He spat at the earl’s feet. “You’re a slimy coward, Nicholas.”

“Perhaps, but I’m not the one who’s tied up.” Nicholas shrugged, with a cold, calculating gaze. He shook his head dismissively and then peered down at Dorian once more. The shadows from the lantern danced across his face again, the darkness making his features appear more sinister. “You deserve this.”

“And what you deserve is to rot in prison,” Dorian said coolly.

Nicholas raised an eyebrow. “Do you intend on calling the constables?”

“I would, if it weren’t for this,” Dorian said with a smirk.

As they spoke, Dorian felt the bindings around his left wrist loosen. Carefully, so as to not attract attention, he moved his arm in an attempt to pry his left wrist free.

“And whom would they believe, Your Grace? A well-respected gentleman, or the Mad Duke, a man who murdered his own father and spent his youth locked in an asylum?”

Dorian raised an eyebrow, allowing his anger to simmer as he continued to work the rope loose around his wrist. Nicholas’s taunts rang in his ears, each word adding salt to the wound.

“You’ve been sending the letters, then?” Dorian asked.

The earl nodded. “Yes, though I had some assistance.”

Dorian knew he meant the letter that had been sent to his mother. He couldn’t help but wonder just how long and often the earl had been tracking him.

“Who?” Dorian asked.

The earl raised an eyebrow, a small smile on his face. He paced slightly, as if savoring the moment and letting it linger on his tongue. He then turned back to Dorian, staring him down as if he were nothing. “Let us just say that you’re not the only one to enjoy the company of your sweet, pretty maid.”

Margaret?

Dorian frowned. Admittedly, he had all but forgotten about the maid. She seemed like a distant memory. He couldn’t help but wonder just how long she had been a snake in his bed.

“It did not take much for her to welcome the idea. I tossed some pennies her way, and she all but fell to her knees.” Nicholas paused, frowning. “But then you began to entertain Lady Eleanor, and she turned sour over it. A jealous, pretty thing, she is.”

Dorian could only stare. He felt nothing for Margaret, nothing at all.

“Speaking of pennies,” Nicholas drawled.

“I don’t have what you want,” Dorian said, meaning it.

“Tell me, Your Grace, how much is Lady Eleanor’s dowry?”

Dorian blinked. “You leave her out of this.”

“Perhaps I will marry her myself.” Nicholas shrugged. “And we can consider the debt paid when I take her to bed. She truly is a lovely thing.”

An unexpected smile touched Dorian’s lips, wild and mad. Every ounce of his strength was in his left arm as he pulled relentlessly on his bindings. The rope gave way, and he lunged forward, immediately crashing into the earl.

Nicholas fell to the ground with a yelp.

A struggle ensued, but it became evident that the Earl of Amsbury was no match for Dorian’s strength. Dorian landed blow after blow, each strike hitting the mark. Nicholas, clearly overwhelmed and outmatched, could only stammer in response as he threw his arms up, protecting his face.

Dorian pulled his fist back for the final blow. “You will tell your men to back down, and then you will turn yourself in to the authorities.”

Nicholas laughed. “And tell them what? That the Mad Duke has lived up to his name? I am not afraid of you, Dorian Crawford.”

Dorian, staring down at his defeated adversary, spoke with a voice that resonated with the darkness around them. “I already have blood on my hands, Nicholas. Do you truly wish me to add yours?”

Nicholas’s laughter faltered. He turned his head toward the open doorway. There was nobody in sight, but Dorian was certain that there were many sets of ears nearby. “Let him leave! Do you hear me, you idiots?! Let him go!”

Dorian nodded in approval. But not willing to take any chances, he shifted his gaze to the bits of rope. He could still feel the burn from the bindings on his wrists, and it seemed only appropriate. Grabbing a length of rope, he turned back to the earl.

“Show me your hands,” he said in a firm, commanding voice.

The earl’s eyes grew wide. “S-surely you don’t mean to⁠—”

“This.” Dorian held up the rope in plain view. “Is a kindness. I wish to do much, much worse to you. Now, do not make me ask again.”

Standing up, he left Nicholas on the grimy floor. As he exited the room, a surge of determination fueled his steps. He closed the door behind him, ensuring that Nicholas would wake up in the same suffocating darkness.

As he passed the other men, the ones who had abducted him, Dorian made sure to lock gazes with each of them. The expression on his face was cold. He wanted them to be afraid, lest one of them become too confident.

In truth, he did not wish to kill anyone, but nothing was about to stop him from reaching Eleanor.

He did not know where he was. He had a vague idea, but he wasn’t entirely certain. By now, he imagined that Eleanor had all but given up on him meeting her at the church. His stomach churned at the thought.

Dorian was not one to break promises, but he had done just that.

“You.” Dorian paused before the rat-faced man, who was nursing his bloodied nose with a blood-stained cloth.

The man was careful not to meet his eyes, his gaze settling on the spot between Dorian’s eyebrows. It seemed that he was almost shaking with fear.

“You will stay here with the earl, and if you do so, I will reward you handsomely.” Dorian turned to the others. “And if you all wish to find yourselves with heavier purses, and to live through this evening, you will make sure I reach my bride. Am I clear?”

“This was all a mistake,” Eleanor muttered to herself as she paced her room.

The door was locked, and she had ignored the knocks and concerned voices on the other side. She wanted to be alone. She needed to be alone.

Her emotions were swirling like a tempest, a storm of betrayal and rage that were confined to the four walls around her. Hot tears streamed down her rosy cheeks, and as much as she willed them to stop, they only fell harder. Eleanor could feel the ache in her chest, a feeling she had never truly known before, and a feeling she would not wish on anyone.

My heart is being torn into pieces.

The trust she had placed in Dorian, the man she had fallen for, had only proven to be the most grievous of errors. Her reputation lay in ruins, burnt to ashes. Eleanor knew it would only be a matter of days before the scandal sheets spread the news about the jilted bride and made a mockery of what had happened.

She paused before her mirror, taking in her disheveled appearance as a bitter laugh slipped past her lips. The wedding dress remained in perfect shape, and she had half a mind to rip it to shreds and then burn the evidence soon after. Reaching behind her back, she fiddled with the hooks, but her shaking hands proved to be far too clumsy.

Now, even more frustrated, she groaned. The sound was low, like sharp air pushing past her clamped jaw. Turning away from the mirror, and ultimately from herself, Eleanor faced the window. She walked over to it, her gaze settling on the setting sun.

I was meant to be married by now.

“I cannot believe I trusted him,” she whispered as she stared out at the still lively street below.

Carriages rumbled past, and people bustled about, all oblivious to the emotions raging within her. Leaning forward, she pressed her forehead against the cold glass and let the tears fall freely.

She was tired from crying, tired from feeling.

“I’m the mad one, mad for believing him…” she whimpered between sobs that shook her to the core.

Opening her eyes, she was met with the most beautiful sunset. She stared at the shades of red, pink, and lavender that stretched across the sky, but she could not enjoy them.

“Perhaps I should’ve just stayed a spinster.” She laughed bitterly.

I hope I am not too late.

As Dorian hurried through the bustling streets, the sound of his borrowed horse’s hooves echoed against the cobblestones, a frantic rhythm that matched the pounding of his heart. He could see the church in the distance, and he nudged his horse faster as if his life depended on it.

The horse beneath him was tired, weary, and uneasy. Dorian quickly glanced down at the gray mare, giving her an affectionate pat as he leaned forward. She had seen much and appeared to be in a neglected state, and though he had more pressing matters at hand, he knew the beast was his to claim now.

I doubt they’d come for me for the damn horse.

People scattered in his wake, their startled expressions a blur as he raced past them with a single-minded purpose—reach Eleanor. There was no room for hesitation or second thoughts.

As the church drew closer, his breath came out in ragged gasps. There were no carriages waiting, aside from one that he knew to be from Dayton Hall. The driver straightened immediately when their gazes locked, his eyes widening in surprise.

Dorian’s heart sank like a stone.

I was too late.

“They left some time ago,” the driver, a short man with a cap, said.

Dorian steadied the horse beneath him. “How long ago?”

The driver gulped. “At least an hour,” he replied.

Dorian nodded and let out a breath. He was half-tempted to return to Nicholas Hervey and thank him personally for ruining his wedding. But he knew there was someone more important that he needed to go to.

Before taking off toward Berkley Estate, he told the driver where to find Nicholas and to alert the constables. He did not wait for an answer. Instead, he squeezed the horse’s flanks, nudging him forward. Surprisingly, the beast complied.

Dorian had no idea what he would say to Eleanor.

What could I possibly say or do to make her understand?

That’s when he realized… he’d have to tell her everything.