Ducal Encounters 02 - With the Duke's Approval Page 23

  “I know you served with distinction.”

  “That I did. I know what people say about me, but unlike your fat prince, I earned the right to wear my uniform and do so with pride.”

  Clarence nodded, conceding von Hessel had a point.

  “I regret I cannot help you.”

  “Oh, but you can, and one way or another, you will. You have not gone to all this trouble only to find nothing. You also fail to make allowance for the fact that if my cousin becomes my uncle’s heir, then I have nothing left to lose, and every reason in the world to seek revenge against those who have stood in my way.”

  Von Hessel walked up to Clarence and slapped his face with considerable force. The sound was like a gunshot echoing through the room. Clarence’s head reeled, but he barely felt the pain.

  “Let us deal with this like gentleman,” von Hessel said in a reasonable tone. “Don’t make me hurt you, Romsey.”

  A muffled sound came from the bedroom—precisely the reaction Clarence had been dreading.

  “What was that?” Von Hessel’s head jerked in the direction of the sound.

  “Pardon me?”

  “I heard something. A noise.”

  Von Hessel threw his head back and sniffed the air. Perdition, Annalise’s fragrance lingered in the air. More to the point, her reticule was still on the settee. Von Hessel’s gaze landed on it at the same time as Clarence’s.

  “Well, well, Romsey,” he said, grinning. “It seems I underestimated you.”

  So saying, he wrenched open the door to the bedroom and Annalise, dishevelled, her gown not properly retied, tumbled into the drawing room.

  ***

  Clarence had thrust Annalise into his bedchamber and warned her to remain absolutely silent. Breathless with nerves, she had done what she could to refasten her gown. It was awkward because the ties were at the back, and she couldn’t managed it properly, but that was the least of her worries. She listened to von Hessel’s peeved voice—a voice she had hoped never to hear at close quarters again. It sent shivers down her spine when she recalled the last time she had heard it, and became furious when her hands started to shake.

  She absolutely would not be afraid of the man!

  She listened intently, attempting not to make any noise. She suppressed a snort when von Hessel asserted he had not intended to kill her. She knew better. She had heard the cold finality in his tone, and knew he was a ruthless man who cared only for his own welfare. Dear God, what would he do to Clarence when he did not hand over the papers? He could not. They were already at the Foreign Office. When von Hessel learned that, there was no telling how he would react. He would probably kill Clarence out of spite. Her beloved diplomat was not a violent man. He would not know how to retaliate if a trained soldier like von Hessel attacked him. The thought of losing him caused a gut-wrenching pain to rip through her, twisting and tearing at her insides. She swallowed against the ache in her throat, determined to do whatever she could to help the man she loved with single-minded passion.

  Even though that love was not returned.

  “Keep him talking,” she muttered beneath her breath.

  Pierce and Clarence’s manservant would come and look for him eventually, when he did not arrive at the Foreign Office. But Anna was not prepared to trust to luck and conducted a silent, methodical search of Clarence’s bedchamber, looking for something, anything, she could use as a weapon. His room was meticulously neat, just like the rest of his life, but also dispiritingly sparse. His drawing room had struck her the same way. A single man’s abode in which he clearly did no entertaining, it doubled as a library, books and papers neatly stacked everywhere. It was fitted with good quality furniture, but lacked soul—nothing to make it homely. Poor Clarence. His practical living arrangements had to be a direct reflection upon his upbringing. They evidenced a man trained not to show emotion, and displayed no hints about his character or aspirations. Anna was perfectly sure there was a warm, deeply sensitive, caring gentleman beneath all those layers of discipline and control. She wondered if she would ever get to unravel them and finally meet him.

  Abjuring herself not to daydream, she concentrated upon her search for a weapon. She fully intended to intercede, but could hardly walk into the room clutching something with which to clobber von Hessel’s head. He would relieve her of it and laugh while doing so. No, she needed something small—something small and sharp that she could conceal about her person. She opened and closed drawers and cupboards as quietly as she could, counting upon the men’s voices to drown out any sound she might make. At the same time, she strained to listen to their conversation—or rather to von Hessel’s diatribe.

  She was on the point of giving up her hunt when she happened upon the sapphire pin Clarence sometimes wore to secure his neckcloth, neatly placed in a box in the drawer that housed those neckcloths. Just the very thing! It fitted comfortable in her hand, and she closed her fingers around its stem at precisely the moment when von Hessel struck Clarence. Anna cried out in alarm. She simply couldn’t help herself.

  The door flew open, and von Hessel leered at her as he grabbed her arm and dragged her into the drawing room.

  “Good afternoon, Lady Annalise,” he said courteously. “Romsey was remiss in not advising me of your presence. I suppose he was trying to protect your reputation, but it seems a little late for that.” He smirked as his glance settled upon her inadequately fastened gown. “I really did understate you, Romsey. Not that I can blame you, of course. I had her in my sights, being in need of an heiress, you understand. She would have been a much better proposition than Miss Outwood, but I knew Winchester would never give his approval.” He shook his head. “Pity that.”

  “And I would die before I gave you the time of day,” Anna said dismissively.

  “I think I could change your mind on that score.”

  “And I am equally sure you could not.”

  Von Hessel chuckled. “She is a real little wild cat, Romsey. I envy you.”

  “Are you all right?” Clarence asked her, his expression cloudy with concern.

  “I might ask the same thing of you.”

  “Touching as this reunion is,” von Hessel said, “I don’t have time to waste.” He kept a firm grasp of Anna’s arm. “I will ask you one more time, Romsey. Where are the papers I need?”

  “On their way to—”

  “No, Clarence! Don’t say anything.”

  “On their way where, Romsey?” Von Hessel pulled Anna so close his breath peppered her face. She was sorely tempted to stamp on his foot, or bite him—something, anything to distract him and give Clarence an opportunity to overpower him. She hated inactivity, but forced herself to bide her time.

  “My secretary has taken them to the Foreign Office. You are too late.”

  “I don’t believe you. You would not let such documents out of your sight for any consideration.”

  Clarence raised an indolent brow. “Would I not?”

  Anna sensed the moment when realisation dawned on von Hessel. “Ah, of course. Lady Annalise is distraction enough to make even you forget your duty.”

  “There is nothing for you here,” Clarence said quietly. “Just leave.”

  “I disagree.” That was what Anna had feared. “This is what will happen. Lady Annalise and I will remain here and enjoy one another’s company while you scamper off to the Foreign Office and retrieve those papers.”

  “The Foreign Secretary will have them by now,” Anna said. “You are too late.”

  “I doubt that, but even if he does, Romsey is a skilled diplomat. He will think of a very good reason to take them back again.” He paused, sending Anna a salacious grin. “I very much hope for your sake that he does.”

  “I will go at once,” Clarence said reaching for his coat.

  Anna couldn’t allow that to happen. His willingness to act unhesitatingly against his conscience for her sake increased her determination. She knew when this episode was all over he would never be ab
le to reconcile himself with his actions, driving yet another wedge between them. If she had not come here this afternoon, Clarence would already be at the Foreign Office and von Hessel would have been bested. It was all her fault.

  Again.

  She had to do something to make it right. She still clutched her pin, but that would only slow von Hessel momentarily. She glanced around frantically. Her eyes fell upon a Chinese bowl sitting on a table directly behind her; one of the few ornaments in the room. It would have to do.

  She pretended to wilt against von Hessel’s grasp. The action took him unawares, and while he was off balance, she thrust the pin into his thigh with all the force she could muster. He cried out, in surprise more than pain, she suspected. With him thus distracted, she picked up the bowl and crashed it against the side of his head. Blood poured from his ear; curses spilled from his lips. He pushed Anna violently, and she fell to the floor.

  About to grasp von Hessel’s ankle and attempt to tug him to the floor, a roaring sound distracted her. Unsure at first where it came from, she was not left in ignorance for long. Clarence, her gentle, intelligent, non-violent Clarence, bellowed like a wild bull as he lunged at von Hessel.

  “No!” she screamed.

  Von Hessel sent her an amused grin, simultaneously blocking Clarence’s blow, which glanced off the side of his head, doing no real damage.

  “You really are full of surprises, Romsey,” von Hessel said in a hectoring tone. “I never would have thought anything could rouse you to violence. Although, I suppose, Lady Annalise is enough to bring out the hero in any man.”

  Annalise couldn’t stand it. She had to do something, anything, to even up this contest. Clarence would be killed, or badly injured, if she did not. Desperately, she did lunge for von Hessel’s ankle this time. He merely glanced down at her, shaking off her hold as though she was an irritating fly. But the distraction gave Clarence the opening he needed. He pulled back one clenched fist and planted it in the centre of his adversary’s face. Anna heard the sound of breaking bone and, from her position on the ground, saw blood spurt from his nose. Clarence had clearly put considerable force behind that blow, but he wasn’t finished yet. He used his other fist with even greater force, knocking von Hessel clean off his feet. He crashed his head hard against the fireplace as he fell, and lay there unconscious.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Clarence reached for Annalise and pulled her gently to her feet.

  “Are you all right,” he asked anxiously.

  “Clarence,” she replied, eyes wide and slack jawed. “You used violence.”

  Clarence glanced at von Hessen’s sprawled form with murder in his eyes. “The cove threatened you.”

  “Yes, but even so, violence settles nothing. You said so yourself.”

  He touched the curve of her face tenderly. “Sometimes it is the only way. And,” he added, smiling, “it can be very satisfying. Von Hessel won’t be quite so pretty now. Broken noses never settle back quite the way they were before. However, he will have greater concerns than his appearance to occupy him when he recovers his senses, such as they are.”

  His arms closed around her as his lips brushed against hers.

  “Your poor face,” she said, reaching up to touch it where van Hessel had struck him.

  “His is much worse.” He looked smugly satisfied, showing he was not so very different from her brothers when it came to his enjoyment of pugilistic pursuits after all.

  “That’s true. What shall you do now?”

  “Much as I would like to remain here and continue what we started before we were so rudely interrupted, I cannot.”

  “I understand.” She lowered her head. “I’m sorry, Clarence. I made things difficult for you again, just by being here.” She sighed. “Had I not been, you could not have given von Hessel what he wanted, you would have made him see that because you are so clever with words, and he would have left you eventually. That is another reason why we would not suit. I never could do as I was told.”

  He chuckled. “You are not yet familiar with my persuasive methods.”

  She shook her head against his chest. “Even so…”

  “Now is not the time.”

  He kissed her again and released her with reluctance. Annalise immediately crouched beside the unconscious von Hessel. Dear God, don’t say she was concerned about his welfare after everything he had done to her? He was breathing, and that was all Clarence cared about.

  “He’s alive,” she said indifferently, her actions echoing his thoughts.

  Clarence’s relief was extreme when she extracted his pin from the unconscious man’s thigh and gave it back to him. He thanked her and placed it on a side table.

  “That was very quick thinking on your part. I was beside myself, trying to think of a way out of this farrago that would not see you get hurt, and all the time you had the answer clutched in your hand.”

  “It was the only thing I could find that he would not immediately notice.” She glanced at the broken Chinese bowl. “I’m sorry about that. I hope it wasn’t valuable.”

  “It was a gift from someone I met in the line of duty. I never did like it much.”

  “What happens now?” she asked, hugging her torso to ward off the shakes that beset her, presumably a delayed reaction after the fright she had received. It was nothing to the way Clarence had felt when von Hessel so arrogantly manhandled her. Every bone in his body had itched to go to her rescue, but he could not do it without further endangering her. When he was finally able to strike the man, his satisfaction and the relief he felt had been immense.

  “Now, I tie this individual up, throw him in the windowless store at the end of the corridor and let him see how he likes being alone in a cold room, without light.” Annalise nodded, apparently satisfied with that arrangement. “Then I shall escort you home before going on to the Foreign Office. I dare say I shall be delayed there for a while. Then I shall come back here with the sergeant-at-arms and have our mutual friend taken into custody. What happens to him after that is for the Foreign Secretary to decide.” Clarence sent her a smouldering smile. “When I have done all of that, I shall come to Sheridan House and hopefully receive an invitation to dine.”

  “I dare say that can be arranged,” she replied with a sweet smile that did not reach her eyes. His beloved girl was in shock, or denial. Clarence was unsure which.

  “I ought by then to be in a position to put everyone’s minds at rest regarding this entire sordid affair. Obviously, you cannot say anything in advance of my arrival, or they will want to know how you obtained that information.”

  “I do realise that.”

  “I know you do. Please don’t think I underestimate your intelligence, but you have had a shock. Another shock. And it might make you speak without thinking.”

  Von Hessel had started to regain consciousness by the time Clarence finished binding him hand and foot. He started making a God almighty racket, so Clarence gagged him before throwing him into the store. He bolted and locked the door, pocketing the key.

  “Right,” he said, wiping his hands. “That has dealt with him. Let me settle your gown property and take you home.”

  They walked the short distance to Berkeley Square in taut silence. Clarence would give much to know what she was thinking. He certainly hoped she did not still plan to object to their marriage. He would release her from her obligation if she could persuade him that was what she really wanted. But he knew from the passionate manner in which she returned his kisses, it was not. How to convince her, though, that was the question? What was it she wanted from him that he had not already offered her?

  “I shall go in through the mews,” she said. “I can abandon my cloak in the boot room, and if anyone sees me they will simply assume I have been to see Betty.”

  “Very well.” They halted at the side door, and Clarence kissed her hand, a plan taking root in his brain to win her around. Something he would not even have considered, up until today, bu
t which now seemed not only timely, but exactly the right thing to do. “Try to stay out of trouble until I return later,” he said with a rueful grin.

  ***

  It transpired that Anna had not been missed, and she was able to reach her chamber without encountering any members of her family. She felt buoyed up after the events of the afternoon, yet also desperately tired. She fell asleep in a chair beside the fire and woke when Fanny brought her tea.

  That afternoon’s demonstration of the pitfalls of Clarence’s occupation ought to have solidified her determination not to marry him. Unfortunately, it had exactly the opposite effect. His willingness to do whatever was necessary to keep her safe had affected her profoundly, because it spoke volumes about how much he cared for her, even if he didn’t actually realise it. The longing that flowed between them when he embraced her affected her more profoundly still. How could she give this man up?

  How could she not when his occupation would always come first?

  Another woman she could compete against, and fight for the right to call herself Lady Romsey. Against the full might of the Foreign Office, she did not stand a chance.

  With a heavy heart, she dressed for dinner in an evening gown of pale lemon Swiss mull, edged with cream Flemish lace. She had not long been in the drawing room when Clarence was announced. His eyes sought her out immediately, and she died a little more inside as she absorbed the warmth of his lopsided smile.

  Her family listened with great interest as he related the results of his activities, leaving out all mention of her presence at his apartment.

  “So, it is all over,” Zach said.

  “I can return to Hampshire,” Frankie added. “Which I had always intended to do at the end of this week. I have had quite enough of society for the time being.”

  “We shall be returning, too,” Amos said. “And will be happy to take you with us.”