Duke of Dishonor Read online

  Duke of Dishonor

  Lords of Scandal

  Tammy Andresen

  Copyright © 2021 by Tammy Andresen

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Untitled

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  Untitled

  Baron of Blasphemy

  About the Author

  Other Titles by Tammy

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  www.tammyandresen.com

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  Hugs!

  Untitled

  Duke of Dishonor

  Lords of Scandal

  * * *

  Tammy Andresen

  Prologue

  January 1821

  London

  * * *

  Emily Carrington sat in the parlor, well, one of many, at the home of the Duke of Devonhall. Her soon to be brother-in-law. She supposed this was about to be her sister’s home too, but as she looked around at the opulence, she couldn’t quite believe it.

  The past six months had felt like a nightmare…and then a fairytale. But that came later…

  Emily’s father ran a successful shipping company and he travelled often. Her chest tightened and she swallowed. At least, she hoped he still ran the shipping company. He’d left on a trip much like any other, well over a year ago. Or had it been closer to two? It was hard to keep track with all the madness.

  The real trouble began when their mother passed. As if such an event would not break the spirits of four young women, their father never came home. He didn’t write to them, he didn’t return, and they weren’t even sure he was alive.

  He usually travelled regular routes that allowed them, under normal circumstances, to communicate by letter. But they’d not heard a word in more than six months. Not since their mother’s death.

  Emily covered her mouth with her hand, ignoring the babble of her sisters in the background.

  As if all this weren’t enough, their uncle, the only male relative they had in England, had been systematically attempting to steal their father’s shipping business for years.

  Which meant, not only were they orphans, but they had to hide their father’s disappearance from the one man who was supposed to help them.

  She shivered in revulsion. Uncle Malcolm was supposed to protect them and instead he’d left them in a complete state of penury. They’d been defenseless and destitute. Alone and afraid.

  She wrapped her arms about herself. Her sisters, Isabella and Eliza, had kept them fed, clothed, and warm. And now Isabella would surely marry a duke. They were saved.

  What had Emily done all this time to help her family? Not a thing. Just two years younger than Isabella and three younger than Eliza, she might as well be a child, rather than a woman of twenty. She’d been at the mercy of the world and reliant on her sisters’ wit and wiles while she’d been helpless.

  She’d smiled and hugged in support as she’d allowed her two older, stronger sisters to face danger time and again while she stayed home to care for Abigail.

  Isabella was exceptionally talented mathematically, while Eliza was one of the bravest people she knew. What was Emily? Pretty, they said. Kind. But that wasn’t special or interesting.

  She sighed to herself as Isabella raced into the room where Emily sat with Eliza and Abigail, their youngest sister. Isabella was pale, a note clutched in her hand.

  Eliza stood. “What’s wrong?”

  Emily’s heart thudded in her chest as Isabella covered her mouth with one hand. Then she dropped it again. “There’s been a fire. On one of Papa’s ships. Bash wants us to meet him at our home.” Then she cleared her throat. “I mean at father’s home. This is our home now.” And she gave a skeptical glance around the room.

  The Duke of Devonhall had hired a woman to pose as their Scottish aunt in order to launch them into society and find them husbands. The imposter Aunt Mildred sat in a chair next to a fire, largely ignoring the girls. But at the mention of the duke, her head snapped up. Emily had to give the woman credit on one account. She was singularly loyal to her employer.

  “Then let’s go.” Aunt Mildred waved her hand, gesturing them forward. “We mustn’t keep His Grace waiting.”

  “I think this is a mistake,” she whispered, her gaze narrowing. Just this morning the Duke of Devonhall told them not to leave the house. Their uncle had threatened to sell them at auction to the highest-bidding husband. She shuddered inwardly and a cold fist clamped around her heart. Not a fate she relished.

  But her sisters were in a flurry of conversation and neither acknowledged nor heeded her comment. Perhaps they hadn’t heard at all, but a quarter hour later, they were all seated in the carriage, bustling off to their Cheapside home.

  Her feeling of unease didn’t lessen. In fact, her trepidation only grew. Why hadn’t she tried harder to be heard?

  Not sure what else to do, she reached for Isabella’s hand, her eyes meeting her sister’s. Why hadn’t she objected more loudly? Insisted they stay home? Because she was meek, easing people’s fears rather than acting on her own.

  Isabella stared back. “We should stop,” she said, squeezing Emily’s hand. Then she banged on the wall and the carriage slowed. Isabella was the most like Emily and their thoughts were in line now. Emily sighed with relief, giving Isabella a nod on confirmation. This trip was a mistake.

  “Isabella?” Eliza asked, looking over at her as the carriage slowed. “What is it?”

  “This doesn’t feel right,” Isabella answered. “Something is off. I can feel—”

  “Who are you and what do you want?” the driver called as the carriage lurched forward again.

  The girls gasped and Isabella fell back into her seat even as Emily fell toward her, bracing herself on Isabella’s legs.

  “Stop that carriage or we’ll shoot,” a stranger’s voice called.

  Emily squeaked out a tiny scream, fear pounding through her veins. She clutched her sister’s hand harder as she silently berated herself for not acting as she knew she should. Why hadn’t she sounded an alarm sooner?

  The carriage turned even as it picked up speed. They were clearly making a getaway and all the women tried to brace themselves as Eliza cried out when her head hit the wood frame.

  Suddenly a shot rang out and the driver screamed. A thud followed and Emily squeezed her eyes shut. “Did someone just shoot the driver?” she asked, but no one answered. The next series of questions, she kept to herself but inwardly, her thoughts spun. Had he fallen? What was happening out there? Were random thugs attacking their carriage or was this the work of their uncle?

  “Come on out, ladies,” the voice called again. The man’s tone dripped with barely concealed irritation. “There is someone who’d like to visit with you.”

  Aunt Mildred let out a gasp. “This is not part of the job.”

  “Aunt Mil—"

  She waved them off. “My name is Caroline. I quit.”

  “You’re quitting now?” Eliza huffed as she grabbed up an umbrella, holding it
in front of her like a sword.

  Isabella straightened. “I accept your resignation. You may leave the carriage now.”

  Emily turned to glare at the older woman. So much for her loyalty to the duke. A chastisement rose to her lips, but she pushed it back down. Her sisters had already done the job of expressing their dissatisfaction. Mildred, or Caroline, or whatever they were calling her, made no move to get out and instead shrunk further into the bench.

  Abigail gave a quick laugh as the older woman turned pale, but that voice called again. “If you’re thinking you can escape, you should know there’s a man out here for each of you to make certain you’re escorted to your host.”

  “It was a trap,” Eliza whispered. “That note wasn’t from Bash, was it?”

  Bash was the duke’s nickname, one that suited him perfectly. Emily looked between her sisters, wondering how they might possibly get out of this mess. “I should have spoken up earlier. I knew this was a mistake but I…”

  “No,” Isabella answered. “I should have known. I’ve just never seen his handwriting.”

  Eliza frowned. “It’s not either of your faults. But the question now is, do we stay in or get out as they’re requesting?”

  “Stay in,” Abigail inserted. “Don’t be a fool.”

  “But then they can just drive off with all of us in this carriage,” Emily pointed out, lifting her finger in the air. Abigail gave her a look halfway between quizzical and irritated. Emily understood why. She rarely spoke up in these sorts of situations. But then again, not talking hadn’t helped them at all. Look at where they were in this moment. If only she’d shared her fears earlier, perhaps they’d have been better off.

  “Ladies,” the voice called again. It held a sing-song quality that made Emily start in fear. “Time to come out.”

  “Eliza.” Isabella turned to their eldest sister, her voice low. “One of us needs to climb out and make it to the driver’s seat to get the carriage out of here.”

  “How close are the men? How many of them are there?” Eliza asked as she looked out the window.

  Emily could see her sisters forming a plan. As usual, they were jumping to aid their family.

  Shame washed through Emily. How could she allow them to put themselves in danger time and again while she stood on the sidelines? Because they’d always taken care of her, protecting her from harm. And yes, she appreciated their concern and love, but at twenty years of age, she was more than capable of assisting them. Now, more than ever, she wanted to find a way to prevent anything like what had happened after their mother died from reoccurring. She couldn’t always rely on her sisters to solve her problems, could she? She looked out her own window, trying to assess the danger. Trying to figure out a way to help.

  Abigail peeked through one curtain. “I see two. Ten or fifteen paces away.”

  “I see three,” Emily said. “Two further back and one right next to the door.”

  Eliza nodded. “Ok, I’ll bash that one with my umbrella and then Isabella will climb into the driver’s seat and whisk you all to safety before the others can reach us.”

  “But what if he grabs you?” Isabella asked.

  Emily watched Eliza as cold fear flickered across her eldest sister’s face before she carefully masked it. That was Eliza. Brave, bold, and willing to sacrifice for her family.

  “I can’t have you being the only hero,” Eliza said as the door rattled. Any moment now their attacker would have the carriage door open.

  Isabella tightened her grip on the door. “Eliza. You’re not likely to climb back in if—”

  “I’ll be fine.” Eliza grabbed the handle too. Then she whispered, “Get our sisters to safety and marry that duke. They need him and so do you.”

  Emily grabbed the handle too, pushing Eliza’s hand away. Eliza could not sacrifice herself today, their sisters needed Eliza alive and well. Emily, with startling clarity, realized that she was completely dispensable. “Give me that umbrella.” Then she snatched the pole from Eliza’s hand. With a quick breath of air, she pushed the door open. “Now!” she yelled.

  The door swung out and, with all three of their weights behind it, Emily felt the moment that the wooden panel hit the attacker.

  He grunted, stumbling back, and Emily jumped out, hitting him with the umbrella. The force of it rattled through her body, but she didn’t stop as Isabella followed her out, scrambling to the front of the carriage and onto the seat. She saw other men rushing toward them, and her hands shook as she turned, wielding Eliza’s umbrella like a sword.

  But the first man had recovered, and he grabbed her from behind, holding her in his beefy grip. A scream ripped from her lips.

  Eliza had also climbed out and jumped on the man’s back, clawing at him and attempting to wrench Emily out of his grip. For her part, Emily tried to twist away but his hands were so strong she couldn’t escape.

  Another man barreled toward Emily and for a moment, another scream built in her throat. What would the two men do to her and her sister? How had she ever thought she was strong enough for this?

  But this new man yelled, “Go!” And then he swung his fist, hitting the attacker with a force that sent the man sprawling to the ground. The hit jarred through Emily even as Eliza jumped out of the way.

  Isabella gasped from the bench. “You!”

  In an instant, their hero pushed Eliza through the open door, and she fell to the carriage floor. “Go!” he yelled again and then grabbed up Emily around the waist, clutching her to his chest as he reached for the back of the carriage.

  Distantly, she heard Aunt Mildred give a shriek as Abigail leaned out and slammed the carriage door shut again.

  Emily could barely register a detail except that the moment her body tucked against his, his strong arm circling her waist, she felt…safe. She wrapped her arms about his neck and tucked her head against his shoulder, completely protected by his large strong frame.

  And then another emotion skittered down her back. He was lean and strong, and she looked up into his square jaw and penetrating eyes…he was sinfully handsome.

  Dark hair ruffled in the breeze as the carriage began to move. The wind, bitingly cold, plucked at her cheeks but he pulled her closer to his body.

  “Isabella,” a voice rang out into the damp air. Uncle Malcolm. Emily would know the sound of that voice anywhere. “Come back here.”

  She didn’t look back nor did she answer as the carriage picked up speed. She’d never look at or talk to that man again. Uncle Malcolm was dead to her.

  Another shot rang out and the man protecting her gave a grunt. Had he just been shot? Her hands tightened on his shoulders as she looked up into his face. “Are you all right?” she gasped, feeling his muscles under her fingers.

  “I’m fine,” he answered, and for the first time, he looked down at her. His eyes were a hazel green and fringed with dark lashes. He had strong cheekbones and a square jaw, with a full mouth that stole her breath. “I’d never let anything happen to you.”

  Rain began to fall, cold and harsh, the January sky dark grey and ominous. But somehow as the carriage sped away, she’d never felt warmer or safer.

  “Who are you?” she asked as she stared up at him, nearly hypnotized by the green flecks in his eyes.

  His fingers splayed out on her back, his chin dropping close to her ear. “I’m the man who will always protect you. I promise you that. From now on, I will keep you safe.”

  What?

  How could he make such a promise when they’d never even met?

  The carriage slowed and Emily finally tore her gaze from his. Bash and another approached on horseback. She drew in a quick, deep breath of air. But quickly released it again when one of his hands twined with hers.

  Her gaze snapped back to his. “That doesn’t tell me anything,” she accused even as he lifted her hand to the handle on the back of the carriage and pushed her fingers around the bar.

  “I wish I could tell you more.”

&nbs
p; “You can,” she started to say, but her words were lost as he jumped down from the carriage and darted into an alley.

  Cold, hard wind bit through her pelisse as she watched him disappear. Never had a man affected her so and she didn’t even know his name.

  Chapter One

  Six weeks later…

  * * *

  Brandon stood tucked in the shadows in a filthy alley of the docklands as he watched the king’s wine being sold for a third of its value. Not that thieves cared how much the wine was actually worth. It was all profit to them.

  But his partner, Ewan McLaren, had infiltrated the ring of criminals, which enabled Brandon to track their movements. Some of the goods went to high-end black market auctions, while others landed on the streets. Each night, Brandon followed another man home, carefully marking his address, his name, his occupation.

  All told, he’d identified six and thirty men who were part of the organization that had targeted the crown.

  They’d targeted Brandon’s business too but that was of less concern right now. His own shipping business could withstand the losses.

  But his reputation? That was another matter.

  And solving this mystery could restore his good name and his standing with their king. A position his father had all but destroyed.

  He’d made a great many sacrifices and compromises to get to this moment and he was so close to meeting his final goal and rejoining society.

  “Enjoy your evenings, lads,” the thief called as he turned and left, winding his way through the alleys and streets of the docklands.