Page 81 of The Duke of a Thousand Desires

Rhys nodded in the direction of the long sash windows. “It’s first light. I’m afraid if I nod off, I might have a nightmare that Simon and I are getting married.”

Heath collected a few lavender buds from the floor, then stood and shook his arms. “We’ll decide what to do after a few hours of sleep and a decent breakfast. It is good manners to send a thank-you for each Etruscan vase, but a written threat, even disguised as a ballad, forces us to wage a different response. If I had to guess, I’d say that this letter is a farewell from Ravenna’s former betrothed. The one who was ordered to leave town.”

“I should have killed him,” Simon remarked.

“But you did not,” Heath said. “And now perhaps the wisest course is for you and Ravenna to leave until your safety is assured.”

Simon tookRavenna out into the garden after breakfast. There had been a rain shower a little earlier and the sweet peas shone like fragments of stained glass in the feeble sun. He wiped off the bench with his glove for her to sit.

“You look worn,” she said with a worried frown. “Where is your coat?”

“I misplaced it last night. I need to change after our talk, anyway. I shall be gone for the rest of the day. Perhaps even the night. You should know I’ve considered sending you away. Out of England.”

“You have what?” she asked in shock.

The skin across his high cheekbones tightened. “It was to be a temporary solution. I considered sending you to my brother in Austria. He and his wife would take care of you.”

The sky darkened. Ravenna raised her face to his. “It is my duty to stay with you. I won’t be banished. Really, Simon.” Her blue eyes clouded with rebellion. “I’m right back where I started.”

“I will do what I must.”

“Travel poses its own risks,” she quickly argued. “Aunt Glynnis could contract a fever. She is recovering right now from a chest infection. We could be set upon by river pirates or footpads on a lonely road.”

“Indeed,” he said, a note of compromise in his voice. “A trek across Germany is no light undertaking for even an intrepid duchess.” He lowered his head to hers. “And I would miss you so.”

“There are hundreds of hideaways in the kingdom,” she said. “Smugglers’ coves, churches, Jane’s antechambers, or a castle in Wales.”

He straightened resolutely. “I would like you and Glynnis to pack your belongings while I’m out today. It’s my intention to reach Essex at the end of the week.” He offered her his hand. “I shall be your castle.”

“And my umbrella?” She rose gingerly to escape the rain that spattered down with increasing force. “I suppose this will please my aunt. She went into near hysterics over that letter suggesting my demise. I wish she had not read it.”

“It cannot be dismissed, no matter who sent it.” His eyes glittered with renewed fury. “Bruxton took my sister’s life, and not only is he walking free, but he has every hope of running for Parliament. Men of a certain criminal nature do not believe they will ever be caught. You will not become his or your former betrothed’s victim.”

Isolde and Timpkinsreached a truce in the midst of the preparations to leave London. Aunt Glynnis took charge of closing up the townhouse and packing for an undetermined length of time in Simon’s villa. She scribbled off farewell letters to friends new and old. She might have sent a notice to the newspapers advising the editors of their departure had Isolde not tactfully reminded her that the duke did not want to advertise his whereabouts.

“I am old and forgetful,” Glynnis said regretfully.

Isolde hastened to assure her otherwise. “You are trusting, madam. It is not your fault an evil man has forced us to take furtive measures. This should be a season to celebrate, not hide like badgers.”

“You will be careful going out today?” Glynnis said as she gave a resounding honk into her handkerchief. “This dreadful cold has made me unfit company for even a dog.”

“Poor madam.”

“Do buy a book for our sojourn. Something to stimulate the nerves and distract the mind.”

“On the lurid side?”

“Oh, please. Heaving bosoms or a ghostly tale. Preferably both in the same novel. I do need a good story to help me forget our worries.”

Although Isolde contrived to conceal her distress, as any young woman of a refined nature should, the reason for their covert leave-taking infuriated her. She would not hesitate to take action against anyone who threatened her employers. She might not be as skilled with a pistol as was the duchess or Lord Rhys, but she carried a small dagger on her person for protection.

Isolde was confident her master and mistress would likewise defend her. Indeed, she grew quite emotional at the thought of some miscreant menacing Lady Ravenna.

Hence, it was with her loyalty at the ready, a full line of the duke’s credit at her disposal and the roguish Timpkins in attendance, that she called on a few exclusive shops to purchase another slew of bonnets, gloves, stockings, and cotton shifts that the duchess might require in the country.

It was a blessing to be a lady’s maid who closely matched her mistress’s coloring and measurements. Isolde boasted a wardrobe that a viscountess would envy.

She had neatly dressed her black hair and donned one of the duchess’s older gowns in her haste. The quilted mauve satin lent her an aristocratic mien, perhaps, and as if to confirm this image, a gentleman on horseback stared overlong at her before he trotted off into the traffic.