The Duke's Broken Heart by Abigail Agar by Abigail Agar

Author:Abigail Agar
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: 0
Published: 2017-12-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Bernard stood in a small alley, across the street from Charlotte’s townhouse. It had been four days since he proposed to her. She said she would give him an answer to his proposal in a week. He shivered in the damp, sunless alley. It was slowly dawning on him that she was giving him her answer now. Bernard watched as Phin walked up her stairs and knocked on Charlotte’s door. Quinn came out and told him the same thing. She wasn’t receiving. Phin left, dejected.

Bernard pitied Phin. The man left with his hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped, eyes on the ground in front of him. He looked that way yesterday when Bernard stood in this very same alley. At least I was never in love with her, he thought.

As he leaned against the cold stones, he wondered what he was going to do now. He felt oddly calm about his predicament. Leisurely marking his time watching Charlotte’s townhouse was not relaxing, mind you, but he was doing something. Little as it was.

He decided he was going to have to kidnap her. He decided Merritt would help. Just roll the carriage to a stop next to her while she was walking with her aunt. Shove her into the carriage, bind and gag her while the carriage hurried to Gretna Green. She may never forgive him, but he didn’t care. Once the money was squared away, he would try to make the best of it with her.

So, every day he asked to be received, and every day he was turned away. Every day he watched Phin get turned away. Then he waited. He waited until dusk. They never went anywhere. They never left the house. Bernard began to see there would be no kidnapping.

Dusk fell, and Bernard shook his head. How was he going to kidnap Charlotte if she never left home?

From his hidden spot across the street from Charlotte’s townhouse, Bernard saw a servant lighting candles in the parlour, the windows magically turning yellow. Time to go home. He’d try it again, tomorrow.

The streets were noisy at dusk, people rushing to get where they needed to be. Bernard walked on the pavement, but the mass of people who walked in the street caused the London traffic to come to a standstill. He passed one stopped carriage after another, all unable to move.

He felt a hand grab his coat from the back and was propelled into the nearest alley, blocked by two men in front of him and one behind. With not a word, one of them hit Bernard hard in his left eye sending searing pain down his spine. He went down, but he never hit the ground. He was hit again in his right eye, feeling his eyeball pushed back by the force. His face felt on fire.

The man behind him was holding up Bernard under the armpits. The first man hit him in the stomach several times one blow after another. He heard the ‘ouff’ sound he made as if it were coming from someone else far away.

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