Fenella Miller: The Duke's Reform

When both guns were loaded and primed Alexander explained his plan. “I doubt Farnham has hung about to see the results of his machinations. Bentley will be cowering in the east wing waiting to see if his latest attempt to remove the obstacle in his way has succeeded.” He stared hard at each one in turn before continuing. “I don’t intend him to survive this encounter.” Again all three responded in unison; this time they nodded. “If Farnham is with him, I shall kill him too.”

He was turning to go towards the east wing when he heard dogs barking in the distance. He froze. Once again he had been outsmarted - his quarry was in the cottage and he had just sent Isobel there. “They are in your cottage, Watkins, we’re too slow.”

His heart was pounding as he raced across the park, he prayed Bentley had not completely lost his senses, would realise murdering Isobel in cold blood would gain him nothing.

“Come in, my lady, as you can see I am expecting you.”

Isobel’s eyes widened, the monster was standing beside Lucinda one hand resting perilously close to her mouth. “Mr Bentley, if you give me my baby and leave immediately, I promise no further action shall be taken against you for tonight’s fire.”

His laugh was shrill, the hair on the back of her neck prickled. She was dealing with a madman. “And shall my dear Cousin Alexander feel the same? I’ve already murdered once, my life is forfeit whatever your avowals. When your husband arrives he won’t to be so merciful.”

“I beg you, don’t harm my child. Kill me if you must but let Lucinda go.”

The dogs continued to hurl themselves at the front door. Would Alexander hear them and come here? Then she saw the madman held a pistol in his other hand. The world stood still. It wasn’t her baby or herself he intended to kill, it was Alexander. With him dead this lunatic would be the Duke of Rochester and there would be nothing anyone could do about it.

If justice took its course and Bentley was hanged then the title would be in abeyance, the good name of the family forever tainted. She would not let this happen. When Alexander burst in she would throw herself in the path of the shot; she would willingly die to save the man she loved and keep his heritage intact.

“Where are Nanny Cooper, Peggy and the maids?”

Mary answered. “He’s locked them in the bedroom, my lady.”

“Be silent, unless you wish me to finish off this brat right now.”

Alexander wanted the two dogs to continue to bark, if they stopped it would warn Bentley he was close. “Watkins, we must approach from the rear. You know those animals, what can you do to make them continue to attack the front door and distract that bastard?”

“They have a fine hatred of felines, sir, if we put a yard cat on the roof that’ll keep them going.”

“Do that. Hill you assist Reynolds with this; Watkins you come with me. Is it possible to affect an entry through the kitchen without being heard?”

“I reckon if I go in by the coal cellar and you through the scullery window one of us will get him before he can harm anyone inside.”

They approached stealthily. The cat secreted under Reynold’s jacket seemed unperturbed by this unusual mode of transport. He watched his estate manager scramble up a convenient wall and push the unfortunate animal onto the roof. The yowl it made attracted the dogs. Suddenly they were howling and barking in their frustration. Excellent, anyone inside would believe he was approaching from the front.

He gestured to Hill and Reynolds to go to the front door and knock and demand entry, with luck that would concentrate Bentley’s attention whilst he approached from behind him. The scullery window was a tight fit but somehow he wriggled through and slid to the tiles below. Thank God there’d been nothing beneath his feet to clatter to the ground and warn of his arrival.

He pulled off his boots then crept forward listening for a clue that might tell him where Bentley was standing. He would get one shot, he must be certain he did not miss, the lives of his family might well depend on it.

He heard Bentley talking. He almost surged forward, forgetting to be cautious when he heard what was spoken.

“Firstly I shall kill your husband and then I shall smother your baby. I’ll do both things before your very eyes. After that I care not what happens to me, I shall be the Duke of Rochester until they hang me.”

The dogs were at the back of the property, but someone was running up the path. She must warn Alexander. She saw Bentley’s hand move to cover Lucinda’s face and closed her mouth, she was in agony—she could not save her baby and her husband. How could she make such a dreadful choice?

Bentley raised his pistol and she gathered herself to make the ultimate sacrifice. How long would it be before Alexander realised the door was unlocked and burst in? A slight movement behind the monster drew her gaze. There was the hideous sound of a pistol shot and Bentley pitched forward, shot through the head. It was over. They were all safe.

Ignoring the body on the floor she flung herself at Alexander. “He was going to kill you and Lucinda, I thought … oh, my love, I can’t believe we have all survived this night.”

He tossed his spent weapon aside and embraced her. “Isobel, my darling, I never want to go through that again. If I lost you or Lucinda I could not go on living.”

The infant terrified by the retort was screaming. Isobel turned to scoop her up. “Hush, little one, your mama and papa are here now to take care of you.” Lucinda snuggled in between them and was comforted by their closeness.

Isobel scarcely noticed the body being removed or Mary picking up the soiled mat—she was safe in the arms of the man she loved. “What are we going to do, Alexander? Where are we going to live? What about the staff?”

He smoothed back her hair and kissed her tenderly. “I’ve a dozen other properties. Tomorrow you shall decide where you wish to live. Then half the staff can remove there and prepare it for us and the rest can go to Grosvenor Square. They might as well be idle in London as anywhere else.”

Leaning back in his arms she stared at him. Could this be the arrogant, autocratic Duke of Rochester speaking so casually about the destruction of his family seat? “Newcomb has been destroyed, does that not bother you at all?”

His arms tightened. “Why should it? I’ve everything I want right here.”