Chapter 39

Chapter Thirty-Nine

H e was tempted to take a leaf out of Victoria's book and find solace in the bottom of a bottle, but Robert knew it was best if he were sober when the doctor arrived. He needed a clear mind to be able to deal with the pain of having a bullet removed.

For a long time, he'd stood in the library staring at the door behind which his wife had sought refuge. Refuge from him.

He'd been so close to turning the page and starting a new chapter of his life. If he had found the courage to actually do it, Victoria might never have known anything about any of this, but now she knew it all.

When it became apparent that she wasn't going to open the door and talk to him, he'd loudly grumbled, "We will have to talk about this at some point. Neither of us can avoid it."

And then he'd left, making his way to his study where he somehow managed to get out of his coat. Dropping it to the floor, he attempted to unbutton his vest. Every movement was agony. Blood was soaked into the front of his vest, and it stuck to his shirt.

Robert gave up and huffed. "If they have to cut it off me, then so be it."

A tap at the door announced Jasper's arrival. His steward took one look at the state of Robert's clothes and quickly closed the door behind him. Between them, they managed to get the vest off, with Jasper apologizing every time Robert moaned or sucked in a sharp, painful breath. A tear rolled down Robert's cheek as his steward gently teased the shirt away from his skin.

"It looks like the bullet is still in there, but I think he might have only got flesh," observed Jasper.

"It damn well doesn't feel like just flesh. More like he put some shot through my soul. Are you sure he didn't hit bone?"

Jasper lay a hand on Robert's arm. "Take a deep breath and hold it, Your Grace."

More tears streamed down Robert's face as Jasper poked around inside his broken skin. He clenched his teeth, but nothing could dull the agony as fingers pressed against his wounded flesh.

"By some miracle it appears to have missed your collarbone. Once the shot is out and the skin stitched, you should have full use of that arm. But it will take time."

He stepped back, and for the first time, Robert noticed the leather satchel Jasper had placed on the desk. "What's that?" he asked.

Jasper nodded at the bag. "I retrieved that from the wagon our friend had brought with him. To no one's surprise, it seems he was an agent of the East India Company. There are several letters in his bag, all addressed to the directors of the EIC. I opened them, and while he didn't specifically mention you by name, rather he called you ‘our noble friend,' it's clear he believed he had found his man."

Robert closed his eyes. The Honorable East India were on to him. Hiding the evidence, and even burning the agent's body, wouldn't save him.

When he opened his eyes once more, he lifted his gaze and stared up at the ceiling. The ornate plasterwork was a thing of beauty.

This is my home. Her home. If they bring war to my doorstep, I might lose it all.

Things that had been mere notions in his mind were now going to have to become hard decisions, and quickly. Where there was one agent of the company, others would surely follow. Who was to say others weren't already circling?

And when news of this particular agent's mysterious disappearance eventually reached London, the outraged directors of the East India would no doubt shift to a full war footing. This was an organization so powerful that they had brought entire countries to their knees, so a troublesome English nobleman wouldn't pose too much of a problem for them.

"Alright. Let's get the immediate issues dealt with tonight, burn the body, and bury it in the woods. I'll suffer whatever Doctor Gibb has to do in order to remove the bullet. At first light, I'll need you to send your most trusted man to London, along with a letter I'll have drafted tonight. If the East India think they have enough evidence to pursue me, then they'll also be after George and his people too. They must be warned as soon as possible."

Doctor Gibb finally left the manor house a little after seven in the morning. Robert was exhausted, and despite the dose of laudanum he'd drank, he was still in a great deal of pain. It had taken the local physician some time to locate and remove the bullet, then the wound had to be stitched. While the doctor worked, Robert kept reminding himself that this was the last time he would put himself in a position where someone might wish to fire a weapon at him.

After thanking Doctor Gibb, Robert went to his bedroom, but instead of putting his arm in a sling and taking to his bed, he got dressed and went downstairs. Despite the constant pain, Robert couldn't afford to take the time to recuperate. There was far too much dirty work still to be done, and he couldn't leave it all up to Jasper.

The agent of the East India had been looking for stolen spices, and while the man had missed the main cache by mere hours, Robert wasn't foolish enough to think that the danger was over. He'd read the rest of the notes which the leather satchel contained and had been shocked to discover just how much his enemy knew.

If the East India decided to involve the authorities, it's agents would come with warrants and weapons to raid his estate. And they wouldn't leave until they had found what they sought. Ducal privilege only went so far.

Which meant he had to move quickly in order to shift his other secret haul, the one he had stored for a rainy day. He had to hide it as far away from the manor house as was possible. Only Jasper knew about the other brick lined powder store, a hidden remnant of the Tolley family's involvement in the English civil war.

Generations of the Dukes of Saffron Walden had made certain to keep its existence off all survey maps for well over one hundred and fifty years. But the store of spices he'd safely hidden away in the bunker now posed a serious threat. He couldn't risk the East India arriving on his doorstep and finding the cache.

I have to do everything to keep Victoria and the people of this estate safe.

A haggard-looking Jasper met him outside the front door. "Our unwelcome visitor has been dealt with, and your letter is on its way to London, Your Grace. Assuming that we would need to deal with the other store as soon as possible, I also took the liberty of hitching a fresh horse to one of the wagons which returned from the village at first light."

Through the haze of his pain, Robert nodded his agreement. The sooner this was done, the quicker he could go back upstairs get down on his knees and beg for Victoria's forgiveness. The way they'd left things last night, he knew she wouldn't settle for anything less than his full capitulation.

He trudged across the lawn toward the stables; the pain in his injured shoulder had him stopping every few steps to suck in a deep breath before carrying on.

I must get this job done, then I can fall apart.

It was early afternoon by the time Robert finally made it back to the manor house. It had taken all day for him and Jasper to clear the hidden cache of spice barrels. While they'd worked, Robert had silently chided himself for not having kept his inventory records up to date. He'd stolen a lot more from the East India Company than he'd realized.

Any wonder they came looking. I must have thousands upon thousands of pounds worth of their spice hidden away in here.

He was utterly exhausted, and in so much agony, that at times during the day he had found himself wiping away tears. But the job was done. The secret haul was now hidden at a location several miles from the borders of the Tolley estate. If the East India came looking, they would find nothing.

Jasper took the wagon back to the stables with the sworn promise that the events of the past day would remain a secret, one he would take to his grave. His steward was beyond loyal, but Robert hated himself for having put a good man in such an awful position.

They were both covered from head to toe in dust and filth. And Robert reeked of cardamon. One of the boxes had split open in his hands and the ground spice had coated his clothes. If things weren't so dire, he'd have found it funny to be the literal Duke of Spice. But nothing in his life was a laughing matter. Least of all the relationship with his duchess.

And now I have to go and find my wife.

He hated that he had been absent from the house all day. That he'd left her alone after what she had endured the previous night. He should have been there for Victoria, but he had failed her.

An eerie silence greeted Robert as he pushed open the door of his and Victoria's bedroom. His wife was nowhere to be seen.

Is this still our bedroom?

Pushing past the thoughts of last night as best he could, Robert slowly stripped off his clothes and toed out of his boots. Every movement was agony. As soon as he could clean himself up, he was going to put his arm up in the sling and take a double dose of laudanum.

Then I will go and find Victoria. I shall tell her just how sorry I am for all of this and beg her forgiveness.

Cleaning himself one-handed was a difficult task. Robert scrubbed as much of the spice from his skin as he could manage. By the time he was finished, the water in the washbowl was stained a dark cardamon green. It would take a hot bath to clean himself properly.

But first I need to talk to Victoria. Find a way to sort through this bloody mess.

He dropped onto the edge of the bed with a tired sigh and slowly let his head and injured shoulder drop. Every muscle in his body ached, and his skull pounded with a splitting headache.

Sleep. He hadn't slept a wink in two days. He'd been shot. And his life still teetered on the edge of collapse. His business. His estate. His marriage. Everything was in peril.

Fatigue saw him lying back on the mattress, with a whispered promise to himself. "Just five minutes, then I'll get up and go find her. She can't hide from me forever." His eyes grew heavy, and he was still muttering about only taking a few minutes to recover when they gently closed.

When he opened them again, the room was dark. He stared up at the ceiling for a while, pondering the first words he should say to Victoria. It was only when the cool evening air made him shiver that Robert finally sat up.

A jolt of hot pain ripped through his injured shoulder, and he swore. "Damn and bloody blast!" It took a minute for his agony-addled eyes to focus in the darkness. When he managed to finally climb off the bed, he staggered out into the hallway, startling a passing maid who was carrying an armful of clean linens.

"What time is it?" he asked.

Her gaze lowered to the carpet, and there it remained. "It was a little after five o'clock when I came upstairs, so it must be past six o'clock, Your Grace."

He'd slept the entire afternoon away.

I knew I shouldn't have been so heavy-handed with the laudanum.

Robert frowned for a moment, wondering why the maid wouldn't look at him. When he glanced down, he realized why. He was buck naked. He dashed back into the bedroom and shut the door.

When he returned fully dressed to the hallway a short time later, the maid was nowhere to be seen. Robert made a mental note to seek out the housekeeper and ask her to apologize to the poor young miss. Seeing a naked duke was not the sort of thing she should ever have to endure.

Speaking of women who should be seeing me naked, where the hell is Victoria?

He searched the library and its adjoining sitting room without success. His further hunt for his wife revealed no sign of her on the entire second and third floors of the house. Down on the first floor, he encountered the butler. "Ah, Mister Ross. I am trying to locate Her Grace. Have you seen her?"

The butler did much the same as the maid had done and lowered his gaze to the floor. Robert made a quick check of his own attire. Not naked. Fully dressed. Still smelling of cardamon but no inappropriate parts of his anatomy on show.

So why is Mister Ross not wanting to meet my eyes?

The butler cleared his throat. "Her Grace left the estate earlier this afternoon. She was going to meet the London bound coach at Bishop's Stortford later tonight."

Robert bit on his lip, hard enough to draw blood. He didn't care; it was just more pain. What truly hurt was the knowledge that Victoria had made good on her promise and had left him.

His bride was going back to London, and their marriage was all but over.