Page 58 of The Haunted Duke

Ingram’s chuckle was a sound of pure evil as that dark lust filled his eyes.

“Oh, she feigns not to want it, but she will,” Ingram replied. “Ripe little maidens like her? They want to be plucked by someone more experienced. They may fight and say otherwise, but I know better. Once I get my hands on her, I will—”

Evander gripped the hilt of his knife and slammed the blade through Ingram’s hand, unable to hear any more of his vile words. He was so quick that Ingram had no chance to understand what was happening or even to move. Even after the dagger nailed his hand to the green felt playing table, he still looked as if he struggled to comprehend what had just happened to him.

Silent seconds ticked by as Evander watched recognition slowly fill Ingram’s eyes. His ruddy face bled out its color, leaving him pale, and his lips dropped open in a silent O as his gaze dropped and widened at the sight of his impaled, bleeding hand. Then he screamed. The sound was high-pitched and feminine. At once, Evander struck again, punching him hard across the face.

“I do not want to see you talking to them any more,” Evander calmly commanded as he drew his kerchief from his pocket and began to patiently clean Ingram’s blood from his knuckles. “I do not even want to see you breathing next to them. To me. To Mrs. Robinson, and especially to Helena. In fact, you will stay far, far away from them. Do you understand? Send whatever amount they owe you to my accountant, and it will be paid posthaste. Those women are in your debt no longer.”

Ingram’s mouth opened and closed several times before he finally croaked out, “Why?”

“Because men like you disgust me,” Evander snarled.

He reached for the hilt of the dagger and wiggled, causing Ingram to let out another painful cry before he quickly muffled it.

“Consider this a warning,” Evander said, jiggling the hilt for emphasis. “You come near them again. You even dream of them, I will cut off both of your hands. You can take this as the word of a beast.”

Rage bled through the pain etched in Ingram’s face as his lips drew back in a sneer, revealing blood-coated teeth.

“Why are you so concerned about them instead of Helena’s betrothed? Is it that he is that weak? Or that you like being the hero that much? Remember where that landed you last time?” Ingram asked. He let out a bitter laugh, sending flecks over the table. “Your caring for others nearly killed you, so why would you bother with her?”

Evander shot forward, snatching a fistful of Ingram’s hair at the back of his head and wrenching it back until the man let out another cry.

“Helena is mine,” he snarled into Ingram’s face. “And I would kill and die for her in the same breath. Would you like to test that vow?”

Ingram sneered as he looked away from Evander’s infuriated gaze, and Evander quickly rewarded the disrespectful slight with a harsh backhand that sent Ingram’s head snapping to the side.

“Well?” he snarled, yanking hard at Ingram’s hair. “Would you like to test it?”

“No,” Ingram gritted out, blood now seeping from his nose, mouth, and hand. “Please.”

Evander let go of him with a shove, one that would have sent the man toppling backward if he had not been pinned to the table. Ingram let out another wail, then, after he regained his balance, he reached for the hilt of the dagger and tried to free himself. It did not budge. For a moment, Evander thought of leaving him like that and forcing the man to struggle to pull out the dagger that impaled his hand. He thought better of it, though, deciding he wanted the man out of the house as soon as possible.

Evander gripped the hilt of the dagger and, with one swift pull, freed it and Ingram and carefully wiped it clean with his kerchief. He took his time, making sure there was nothing left of the vile man on the blade before he slid it back into its sheath.

“Now,” Evander said chipperly, his smile wide and genuine as he watched Ingram move in a panic to stop his bleeding with his own kerchief. “Allow me to escort you out of this house.”

Chapter 20

Five Days Later

“Where are they?” Patricia demanded, looking through the crowd of finely dressed guests standing outside the quaint country church. “Where is my grandson?”

Helena looked around as well, her nerves a messy bundle in her stomach. It was not just Jeremy and Evander she was looking for, though. It was Lord Ingram. He had disappeared the night he had forced her into that awful dance, and no one, not even her mother, seemed to know where he had slunk off to.

She had shared her worries with Evander and Jeremy, but both assured her not to worry. A feat that was much easier said than done, especially as fresh drama was unfolding at that very moment. Like everyone else, Helena was dressed for a wedding. Her gown now fit her perfectly, and her white veil was placed atop her head, covering her face with sheer gossamer.

“Has anyone checked his rooms? Or the gardens?” Patricia demanded as she leaned heavily on her cane. “Oh, what if he drank too much last night? What if he is passed out somewhere and is completely oblivious to the time!”

“He is not,” Damien assured, walking up to his grandmother with Caroline at his side. “I saw him walking down the hall this morning before dawn with his valet. He looked fine.”

“Fine enough to marry?” Caroline asked, tilting her head at her husband.

“Well, he was with his valet, so I assumed he was simply getting ready early,” Damien admitted.

Adrian, who had wandered close enough to catch the tail end of it, snorted. “Before dawn? That does not sound like Jeremy at all. The only man I have ever known to rise before dawn for his own wedding is standing right here.” He clapped Damien on the shoulder.

“Guilty as charged,” Damien said dryly.