Chapter 32

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

T here was nothing that Caroline could do. Sitting in the back of the carriage, listening as it rattled its way slowly down the road—toward her doom, it sounded like—she was beginning to accept the inevitable defeat in ways that she hadn't been able to until this moment.

For a while there, as she waited in her room for her father to come and collect her, she had tried to work up the bravery that she knew she would need to try another escape. Once he led her outside and to the carriage, she was going to run and scream for help. Surely, a concerned citizen might step in and help her. Only, when her father opened the door, he put a stop to that notion.

"And if you try anything…" He reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a small revolver and showed it to her. "… you might consider what I am willing to do."

And that was the death of the fight left in her.

All Caroline was able to think about now was how she might have done things differently if she had a second chance. Certainly, she would have told His Grace the truth. She might have told him, too, that she loved him as she knew he loved her. She would have put herself at his mercy, rather than her father's. She would have taken that chance, for it did not feel like a chance at all.

It was painful to think on these things, for there was really no point. It brought her nothing but sorrow which for the rest of her life would be a thin blanket to keep her warm from the misery that her life was sure to be.

Outside, through the window, she watched as the sun slowly sank beneath the horizon. The sky was cast in deep purples and dark reds, as if the sun was bleeding into the earth. It felt apt, she thought, for it was how her heart felt inside her chest…

And as she looked outside, as she lamented, she thought that she heard something in the distance. The sound of horse hooves racing along the dirt road. She laughed bitterly, not letting herself succumb to such fancies. No one was coming to save her, so why even bother imagining…

The sound of the horse hooves grew in intensity. So loud now that she could not ignore them. Her brow furrowed as she listened… she dared to lean out the window and look back down the road. Off in the distance but coming closer, she spied a rider. Too far away to make out who it was, the way he rode, it looked as if he was being chased by a demon.

Her heart leapt. She quietened it. She dared not dream…

But he came closer and closer, and that was when she saw him. It was His Grace!

"Frederick!" she cried without thought.

He rode up on the carriage, veering off the road and riding around it so that he was out in front. A second or two passed, her heart caught in her throat and then?—

"Whoa!" she heard her father cry out as the carriage came to a sudden stop. "What is the meaning of this—off the road, now! Do you have any idea who I am!"

"I know who you are," the deep, commanding voice of His Grace boomed like the thunder of a cannon. "Although soon, you will pray that I did not."

"Your Grace!" her father cried in shock.

"Step down from the carriage, Lord Edgerton! Quickly."

"What is the meaning of this! I demand that you move your horse from my way immediately."

"Again!" His Grace barked. "Step down from the carriage. Now!"

"On who's authority."

"My own!"

The carriage had come to a standstill. Caroline swung about, caught between waiting to see what happened and taking action. His Grace had come for her, and she could not believe it! It must have meant that he forgave her, that he understood! Surely, there could be no other reason?

But her excitement entered deep dread when she remembered the revolver hidden in her father's jacket.

"No!" she gasped and leapt for the door.

"This is unheard of," her father was saying. "You have no right to?—"

"Miss Dowding!" His Grace gasped as Caroline stumbled from the carriage. She nearly fell into the dirt but kept her footing, spinning about just in time to see Frederick, still atop his horse, smiling wonderfully at the sight of her.

"Your Grace!" she cried.

Oh, he was a sight that dreams were surely designed for. Sitting atop his horse, broad shouldered and large, she had never seen someone look so powerful. Dark hair whipping in the wind. Handsome face stern without fear. He may have only had the single horse to support him, but he imposed it on her father, who looked small and pathetic by comparison.

"That is my daughter, Miss Dunn!" her father snarled, still seated in the driver's chair of the carriage. "And I will ask that you not speak to her!"

"You came!" she hurried around the carriage, coming in beside where her father was sitting. "I cannot believe you came."

"Of course, I did…" His smile grew, and her heart leapt. "I only regret that I did not come sooner, that I said those things to you—that I accused you of?—"

"Enough of this!" her father shouted. "Caroline, back in the carriage, now! And Your Grace, I ask that you move your horse otherwise you will leave me no choice but to run you down."

"You may try, Lord Edgerton, but it would be unwise."

"Unwise?" he snarled. His hands gripped the reins, ready to whip them and force the horses forward. But there was no point, and a glance at Caroline confirmed that he knew it. "Back in the carriage! I will not ask you again."

She ignored him. "Your Grace, I should have told you the truth. I should have told you?—"

"It is all right," he assured her, his smile soft now and loving. "There is no need to explain. I am the one who should be sorry."

"I cannot believe you came for me…" Her heart swelled in her chest such that she thought she might float.

"I cannot believe you thought I would not."

"Enough!" Her father was on his feet. "Your Grace, will you remove your horse from the road? Yes, or no?"

"No! Not without Miss Dowding."

"Her name—" He reached into his coat and pulled out his revolver, pointing it at His Grace; his arm shook from the anger that flooded through him. "—is Miss Dunn! And as you are here to steal her from me, I am within my rights to shoot you!"

His Grace's eyes flashed as he eyed the gun. But not with fear, even if that would be the natural reaction. Anger brewed inside of him, his lip curling back to reveal bared teeth.

"I would not do that if I were you, Lord Edgerton."

"Ha! And what could you possible do about it!"

"You have already killed once," His Grace said. "Will you do it again? This time, you might not be so lucky to get away with it."

"Is that what she told you!" His arm shook, but he held the gun pointed and ready to fire.

"It is what I know!"

"It does not matter!" he cried hysterically. "Let her see me shoot you dead! Let her scream to the heavens what I did! Nobody will believe her! She belongs to me! She is mine! And I will do with her, my daughter, as I please."

His Grace growled. "Over my dead body."

"As you wish."

It all happened so quickly.

Caroline's father cocked his gun and aimed it. His Grace's eyes went wide, and he kicked his horse forward. Caroline screamed! The gun went off with a loud bang! And Caroline screamed again as a single bullet struck His Grace in the stomach.

It would have been enough to fell a normal man, but His Grace was no normal man. Taking the bullet in stride, His Grace rode his horse toward the carriage, pushed himself up in the saddle, and dove forward with his arms flung out to tackle her father from his perch.

Her father gawked at the action, unable to believe what he was seeing as His Grace's body flew through the air, crashing hard into his torso. Arms and legs tangled together, His Grace grabbing ahold of her father, refusing to let go as the two came crashing down from the carriage with a loud thud.

"Your Grace!" Caroline screamed as the two men rolled in the dirt.

"Argh!" her father yelped, somehow pulling himself free from His Grace's grasp. Blood covered her father although it was not his. He stumbled to his knees, attempting to scramble away, only for His Grace to grab ahold of him around the waist and pull him back into the scuffle.

She could see the wound from the bullet in His Grace's stomach. Blood pooling and spreading over his shirt. Yet somehow, he managed to keep her father on the ground as he pounded him with his fists.

"Your Grace!" she cried again, running to where the two men rolled about. There was blood everywhere. Fists and legs punched and kicked. Impossible to tell who was getting the better of the other.

And beside them, sitting idle, was the revolver.

A loud smack sent His Grace back as her father wrenched himself free. Bloodied still, clothes torn, face covered in dirt and mud, he fell backwards, scrambling on his hands as he put distance between himself and His Grace.

"You—!" He pushed himself to his feet and charged His Grace, who was struggling to stand. "I told you to stay away!" He drove a boot into His Grace's stomach.

"Argh!" His Grace's body reeled back, collapsing in the dirt.

"But you would not listen!" Another boot, this time aimed for the bullet wound. The sound of the boot crunching into his ribs was like the crack of a whip.

His Grace roared in pain and collapsed to his face.

"I will make sure that she pays for this!" Another kick. "Every ounce of pain visited on her is your doing. I hope you know!" Another kick, right into his bullet wound.

His Grace lay prone on the ground, face in the mud, surely passed out… maybe even dead. Caroline watched on in fear, stricken with worry, not knowing what she could do. If anything.

Only… somehow, His Grace was able to push himself back to his knees. Slowly. Painfully. His entire body shaking, he groaned as he forced himself up. Caroline could see the hate in his eyes, the determination, and the will not to give up.

"He's a fighter!" her father laughed as he walked around His Grace. "Some don't know when to give up!

Caroline looked about desperately, again spying the gun. It was out of ammo, but that was not the only use she could think of for the heavy metal object. With her father concentrating on His Grace, she leapt for the revolver and picked it up.

"Leave now," His Grace seethed, breathing heavy and ragged. "Or you will be sorry."

"Sorry, will I? How about this—" Her father leapt forward, kicking again with his right foot, but His Grace was ready, somehow turning and catching the foot between his hands. "What?!" her father cried in shock.

He tried to kick his leg free, unable to, and in that, Caroline saw her moment.

Fear enveloped her—a lifetime of memories, all cowering to the man before her. Running. Hiding. Hating but unable to do anything. With His Grace near death and her father close to victory, Caroline decided then and there that she was through being afraid.

The revolver clutched in her hand, hate flooding her and giving her strength, she ran up behind her father, held the revolver by the butt, and smashed it over her father's head as hard as she could.

It rang out with a loud thud.

Her father's body went stiff. His Grace dropped the leg, and her father turned around, looked at her as if he wasn't quite sure what happened, opened his mouth to speak… and then collapsed into the dirt in a heap.

"Nice shot…" His Grace chuckled only to then fall onto his back, this time, not moving to get back up.

"Your Grace!" Caroline dropped the revolver and ran for him. There was blood everywhere. His body was pale white and cold, covered in sweat, shaking as if he were freezing. She scooped up his head and rested it in her lap, not knowing what to do. If there was anything she could do! "Your Grace, please! No!" she wept. "You cannot die! I won't let you die!"

He laughed softly. "What did I say about giving me commands…"

She laughed too, for it felt like she should. "Now is not the time to argue."

"With you?" he chuckled, his eyelids closing. "It is always the time to… to… to argue…"

"Your Grace!" She slapped him on the face. "No! Please! Don't go!"

She could not believe it. She refused to believe it. Finally, after all they had been through, they had a chance, a real chance to be together. Her father would no longer be a problem. Her secret was no longer a problem. Open and honest and willing, finally, only for this… this… for this to be how it ended.

She bowed her head and cried, holding his body close, heart breaking asunder as the world ended around her. The sun had officially set. Night had come. And as far as Caroline knew, the sun would never rise again.

And it was because she was so broken and filled with despair, because she cried the way she did, eyes closed and body rocking, that Caroline did not hear the sound of horse hooves racing down the road toward them. Dozens of them moving as fast as any horse could.

In the distance, through the darkness, if she had been looking, she might have seen George coming for them with six men in toe. But she wasn't looking, so she did not see, so she assumed that His Grace had died in her lap, and her life was as good as over.

Love lost… now, she knew that pain.