He tightened the makeshift bandage on his forearm, wincing as pain blossomed. There was very likely a broken bone, but he had no time to tend to it. There would be time enough once Leah was safe.
The reins rasped softly against the branch of a young willow as he tied them. With a whisper of gratitude to the black mare, he crept through the twilight woods toward the cabin. He moved swiftly and silently, taking care to step on damp earth. Bodies milled by the door of the cabin, and he crouched to better count his opponents.
He’d only counted four of them when angry shouts GeekGirlsDontDateDukes.indd 265
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echoed through the woods and a shot rang out. Leah’s bloodcurdling scream pierced his heart.
His feet pounded against the earth as he bolted for the cabin. Had she been shot? Oh God, had he come so close only to lose her like this?
The duke’s voice ground him to a halt at the last ring of trees before the building. “Oh my darling, are you harmed?”
“No, no I’m fine.” Clear. Shaken. But that was definitely his angel.
Leah. Avery sank to his knees in relief at the sound of her voice. She was whole. A strange sensation pricked at his eyes, but he rubbed it away. He staggered to his feet, ignoring the nerveless feeling in his legs. He must go to her. He must assure himself that she was unharmed.
He rushed past the duke’s carriage but pulled up short at the sight inside.
His Grace’s arms were around Leah, locked in a passionate embrace. Her beautiful lashes dusted her cheeks as her arms were wrapped around his neck in the picture of perfect pleasure.
Avery’s heart crumbled to dust in that moment.
He waited for a breath or two, hoping, praying that the vision was false. When the duke murmured to her softly, Avery slammed his eyes shut and staggered backward.
She hadn’t stopped him.
He turned and strode for the horse, ignoring the looks of the men who milled around the front of the cabin.
He’d been too late. Much, much too late.
The sight of their embrace seared itself into his brain, a throbbing reminder of what he’d lost. A dark laugh escaped him as he freed the black mare from the willow.
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Had he expected Leah to throw over a duke for the love
of a valet? A poor man with no home, no coin, and a past that put her in mortal danger?
He’d been so stupid. So very stupid.
i
The journey back to London was a long and lonely one.
Along the way, he recounted each and every one of his sins in the past few months. The list lasted him until he reached the outskirts of Town, and even then he was certain he’d forgotten a few.
He must return to Granville House and claim his meager possessions. Then to find employment somewhere. He was certain he’d get no reference from His Grace after the way he’d declared his participation in Prachett’s scandal. The lack would make things more difficult, to be sure, but he’d as soon never speak to His Grace again after the embrace he’d witnessed. The man had rescued Leah when he had not, and that made him a better mate. She deserved nothing less than a duke.
Avery slammed his eyes shut as the pain locked its grip about his heart again.
“Leah, why?”
The whispered question was unanswered, as he’d expected. A man such as he did not deserve answers.
He’d failed her. He’d allowed her to come to harm.
How could he blame her for choosing the duke?
He dismounted at Granville House’s stables, rubbing down his horse and returning the tack to its proper place. The young stable lad eyed him curiously but kept his distance.
His steps were leaden as he moved toward the house.
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He could not remain at Granville House with Leah as its mistress. Though his sins were many, and his punishment justly deserved, that was a pain he could not endure.
The chatter in the servant’s hall died as he entered the room. Scents of boiled mutton and cabbage greeted his nostrils, but he paid no heed to the growling in his belly.
He could not stomach any more derision from his fellow servants, even to satisfy his hunger. With a polite nod to the gaping maids and dumbfounded footmen, he walked toward the stairs.
“Russell.”
Smythe’s voice stopped him. Avery shut his eyes but did not turn.
“Yes?”
A chair scraped back and a gentle, fatherly hand lay on Avery’s shoulder. “Sit. Eat. You must be weary.”
Avery waited a heartbeat for a blow to fall. It didn’t.
“May I ask why?”
The hand disappeared, but Smythe did not. The man’s voice was gentle as he spoke. “Mackenzie left not long ago, raving about Prachett, the mills, and your involvement. We had assumed the worst about you, and Mackenzie fostered that bad opinion. We’ve wronged you, my lad, and we would make it right.”
The kindness nearly felled him. He took a deep breath and faced Smythe.