Gina Lamm - Geek Girls Don’t Date Dukes

And the valet who’d chased her down and stolen her heart? She thought of him most of all.

If she survived this, the first thing she’d do was tell him she loved him. It couldn’t wait another second. He had to know that he meant everything to her.

The next day dawned grim and gray, like Avery’s mood. He rose early, energy humming through his muscles. The sooner he beat Emersen, the sooner he could rescue Leah.

Leah.

She was in danger because of him.

His anger simmered just below the surface, fueling the fire in his muscles as he stretched in the ring. Prachett’s men, including one Lachlan Mackenzie, stable master to the Duke of Granville, milled nearby. Avery gave Mackenzie a dark smile. He knew where the betrayal had come from now and would recompense him accordingly once Leah was safe again.

The crowds came. Fine lords and ladies, common laborers, the young, the old—they filled in the gaps at the sides of the square, elbowing and crowding to get closer to see the bouts. The first match lasted nearly two hours. Cribb and Gulley pounded one another until the blood flowed like wine. Cribb was the victor, when Gulley lay in the dust and did not rise.

All during the long match, Avery kept a watchful eye on his jailers, waiting for an opening. One never came. He’d have to fight his way out through his opponent.

“Emersen’s a tough ’un,” Jenks said as Gulley’s men cleared the unconscious man from the ring. “His guard is high, and he’s lightnin’ quick. Best to hit him low and often if you’re to have a chance, lad.”

“Aye, and mind your feet. Be light and fast, he’s no’ used to that,” Tarley chimed in. “Won’t be easy, but you can win if you pull your head from your arse.”

Avery took the jibe without comment. Jenks and Tarley didn’t know about Prachett’s manipulation of both Avery and the matches. They only knew that Avery had lost two matches he could have easily won.

“I will do my best. You have my word.”

Avery stepped into the ring to the hisses and jeers of the crowd. Emersen was the clear favorite. That was what Prachett counted on.

Avery stood at the line and nodded to his opponent. Emersen, a ruddy beast of a man, stood over six feet tall. He towered over Avery, thicker, stronger, in every way his superior.

Avery widened his stance and raised his fists. There was no force on earth that could stand between him and Leah. Not even this beast of a man.

They came together like two leviathans, with a crash. The noise was deafening as the crowd cheered at every landed blow.

Bruises and blood, fists and grunts flew as they pummeled each other. Round for round, blow for blow, they were as perfectly matched as any pair of combatants could be. As the hours dragged on, and the warriors slowed, only one thought kept Avery moving.

Leah was in danger, and it was his fault.

This man kept him from rescuing her.

In the twenty-third round, with Avery’s vision clouded by blood, his fists swollen, cut, and aching, bones broken and head spinning, he saw his opening. A quick stumble, a simple misstep, and Avery laid into Emersen without mercy. Right and left, over and over, he let his rage pour through his fists.

The crowd went silent as Avery stood. Emersen moaned but did not rise.

The victor did not waste a moment on the loser. He only had eyes for one man, the man standing in the corner of the ring, gloating at his victory.

Prachett.

The distance between them melted away as if it were nothing. Avery grasped Prachett’s coat, shaking the man as if he were a dog with a bone.

“Where is she?”

Prachett coughed, clawing at Avery’s hands. “Let me go.”

Avery lowered Prachett to the ground, but he did not release him. “Damn you, you perfidious cheat, where is she? I lost the matches as you told me, and won this one, now I’ll have her back.”

Murmurs ran through the crowd.

“Cheat?”

“Wot did he say?”

“He lost purposefully?”

A shrill voice penetrated the fog of anger surrounding Avery. “Thomas Prachett has been manipulating the fights for his own gain!”

The crowd surged around them, carrying Prachett away from Avery in a tide of outrage.

“Where is she, Prachett? Damn you, answer me!”

There were too many people between them. He cast about for another answer.

Prachett’s men had scattered, unwilling to be caught with their master now that the scheme had failed. But one was not as fast as the others.

“Mackenzie.” Avery caught the stable master by the neck. “You will tell me what I need to know, and you will tell me now.”

* * *

Shouts woke her, though she hadn’t realized she’d fallen asleep. Angry male voices—it was hard to tell how many—arguing and cursing one another. The sharp crack of gunfire made her jump, and she struggled to sit up. Her body groaned and protested, but she managed to prop herself against a wall. She pushed against the wall with her bound hands behind her and struggled to her feet.

Damn it, if only she could freaking see! She could run while they were distracted if she just had a peephole. But while the weave of the bag was loose enough to allow oxygen to flow to her, it wasn’t large enough in the dim room to give her a clear line of vision.

She had to do something. She was tired of lying here and waiting for someone to either kill her or rape her.

Her scream was so loud it nearly pierced her own eardrums. She stumbled but pressed back against the wall to steady herself. Let them ignore that if they could.

* * *

Avery was nearly out of his head with worry by the time he located the secluded hovel in the woods that Mackenzie had confessed was Leah’s prison. His horse had pulled up lame, and he’d had the devil of a time finding another. She’d been in their custody for nearly a full day. Anything could have happened to her. How could he know the brigands Prachett had hired would leave her unharmed?

Blackhearted devils. If they’d hurt her, he’d kill them all with his bare hands. Gladly.

He circled the area, making the best of the fading daylight. There were no lookouts posted. Of course, Prachett knew that Miss Ramsey was not really of the ton and therefore had no powerful allies to come to her aid.

Cold rage had replaced the angry passion of the morning, and Avery was glad of it. He could examine the situation much more clearly and rescue her that much sooner.

The mare picked her way over a thin stream, and Avery dismounted once they’d reached the other side. 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 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.” Her voice rang clear, though her tone was thin.

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. 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.

* * *

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 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. 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 servants’ 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.

“I thank you, sir.”

Smythe held his chair out for him. Mrs. Harper brought a wet cloth for him to wipe his hands and face, and Cook served him a double portion of mutton. Teresa promised to tend to his wounds once he’d finished his meal, and Henrietta looked at him as if he were an avenging warrior returning home.

The delicious food was tinged with both acceptance and bitterness.

He’d found his place only to have to leave it behind.

Leah was limp. There was no strength left in her body. It had all been wrenched away by a euphoric glee that stemmed from not being tied up and smothered by a burlap bag anymore. When the duke had removed that barrier between her and the world, she’d been so overcome that she’d hugged him.

He’d patted her back, comforting her. He really was a good man.

“Thank you so much for saving me,” she said. “I don’t know why they took me, but I’m so grateful you came.”

“It is my fault, dearest Miss Ram.” He patted her hand. “I should never have allowed you to wander the paths alone. It was foolishness.”