Page 63 of To Dare a Duke

Prue watched him drop the sheet to the floor, turn away, and leave.

Chapter 17

Oh, darling, Prue, what have you done?

―Excerpt of a letter from Miss Matilda Hunt to Miss Prunella Chuffington-Smythe.

***

May 4th Beverwyck. London 1814

Robert winced as the curtains drew back with a snap.

“I said to leave me alone, damn you!” he cursed, struggling to lift his head enough to glare at whatever idiotic servant had ignored his express commands.

“Speak to me like that again, and you’ll be wearing the pot of coffee I’ve so kindly brought you,” his sister replied. She stood over him, looking down at him with a wrinkled nose and an expression of deep disgust. “You smell like a wet dog,” she observed.

“Good,” he muttered, turning onto his side and away from her. “Just what I was aiming for.”

“I meant it about the coffee,” she said, her clipped, precise words jangling through his brain as she plopped several lumps of sugar into a cup with the silver tongs, being sure to clang and clank as much as she could as she poured and stirred it with pure viciousness. He’d never known pouring coffee could be so bloody noisy, or so damned vindictive.

“All right, all right,” he cursed, groaning and clutching his head as he heaved himself upright in his bed.

Relenting a little, his sister helped to pile the pillows behind him, set the cup into his hands and perched on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t smell that bad,” he retorted, observing her pretty nose still crinkling. “I’ve not even been near a bloody dog, wet or otherwise.”

“No,” she allowed, folding her arms. “But I’m too much of a lady to say you smell like a whore’s parlour.”

“Christ, Helena!” he exclaimed, choking on his coffee in shock. “Where in god’s name did you even learn such a word?”

She returned a scathing look. “Oh, please, my brother is The Damned Duke, I’d have to be deaf, blind, and utterly stupid not to know of at least some of your exploits, you idiotic creature.”

At the reminder of what had sent him into this latest spiral into hell, a sharp stabbing pain hit him hard and fast, somewhere in the vicinity his heart of where used to reside. It had been a surprise to discover he still had one after Lavinia, and a bigger one to discover he was as much of a fool as he’d always been. God, would he never learn?

“I wasn’t there to….” He cleared his throat, feeling appalled as Helena rolled her eyes and waved his excuses away.

“So, Prunella is the author of The Dark History of a Damned Duke?” she asked, getting to the heart of things like a surgeon with a blade.

Robert glared at her. It never ceased to amaze him that no one else realised his sister was far more ruthless and resolute than her brother had ever been. She never pulled her punches. The girl had the face of an angel, and the dogged determination of a bloodhound.

He remained silent, his jaw so tight it sent pain radiating through his head. Too hurt and angry to form actual words, he knew if he thought too much about what Prue had done—the things she written about him—he’d need to destroy something… or cry. It dismayed him to realise the second option was more likely than the first.

“I knew I liked her,” Helena said, smiling a little.

That got his attention.

“What? You think what she did was admirable?” he demanded, shocked and further hurt that his sister, of all people, wouldn’t defend him.

Her expression softened and she reached out, taking his hand.

“When do you suppose she wrote that story, I wonder? I mean, the series began months ago. That was chapter sixteen and, as the magazine publishes an episode each week….”

She trailed off, giving him a look that urged him to keep up as Robert struggled to follow her train of thought.

“You mean to point out she must have written it before we met?” he said cautiously. Damned if he would believe there was a way to forgive her for what she’d done. He’d forgiven Lavinia for trapping him into marriage, for forcing his hand, and look where that had gotten him. “Or at least, much of it?”

Helena didn’t answer, but held his gaze. “Tell me again what happened when you told her how Lavinia died. How did she react?”