The Breaking Dawn of a Fallen Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Read online

  The Breaking Dawn of a Fallen Duke

  A Historical Regency Romance Novel

  Emma Linfield

  Edited by

  Maggie Berry

  Contents

  A Thank You Gift

  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

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  Preview: A Bottle of Betrayal for the Forgotten Duchess

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Also by Emma Linfield

  About the Author

  A Thank You Gift

  Thanks a lot for purchasing my book. It really means a lot to me, because this is the best way to show me your love.

  As a Thank You gift I have written a full length novel for you called The Betrayed Lady Winters. It’s only available to people who have downloaded one of my books and you can get your free copy by tapping this link here.

  Once more, thanks a lot for your love and support.

  With love and appreciation,

  Emma Linfield

  About the Book

  "You are blood of my blood, bone of my bone, I give you my heart that we might be one..."

  Lady Gabriella Griffith longs for a chance to be free.

  When a bout of rebelliousness leaves her lost in a disreputable part of London and at the mercy of miscreants, her savior comes in the form of a handsome commoner.

  Raised in a brothel, life in the slums is everything Damian Turner has ever known. He never expected that rescuing a Marquess’ daughter would secure him a position as a stable hand. Or a broken heart.

  When Gabriella’s best friend announces her impending nuptials, Damian is asked to accompany her. And walk straight into a deadly trap.

  With someone wishing Damian dead and Gabriella forbidden from seeing him, the key to their salvation lies in the portrait of a stranger from Damian’s past. A past he has been in the dark about all his life…

  Chapter 1

  His heartbeat raced as he flew through the hallway. His breath burst in and out in tandem with the creaking floorboards. Damian jumped the stairs two at a time; his terror mounted with every step. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, and the door appeared before him. He kicked it down.

  His midnight blue eyes darted nervously across the room.

  “What is going on in here?”

  The air was stuffy and smelled of sweat and sex. Squeaking and creaking and moans and giggles escaped from the other rooms along the hallway.

  The older man tensed his wide shoulders, squinted his angry eyes at the interruption, and rumbled, “What the bloody ‘ell do you want?”

  Damian clenched his teeth and continued to scan the sight. Clothes were strewn about the small room, and bedsheets tossed on the floor. He spotted the jack weight standing over the terrified young blonde. Damian didn’t care if the man flared his nostrils, or his beady eyes looked furious. He was focused on her. He noted one eye was blackened, red marks marred her delicate, nude skin, and she was crying. The man held a folded belt in his hands.

  Damian glared at the ruffian. “What do you think you’re doing? No gentleman is to strike a lady in here.” He felt his face getting hot. “It is strictly forbidden.”

  The man slapped his pot belly and bent over laughing. “Well, when I find a lady, I’ll make sure not to ‘it ‘er.” The crown of his head was bald, and his sideburns were long and dark. “But this ‘ere,” he bared his yellow teeth and raised his chin, “this ‘ere is nothing but a run of the mill doxy, and I’ll be damned if I let someone like you tell me what I can or cannot do.”

  Damian sighed and raised his hands. He needed to control himself. This wasn’t the time for violence. Meryl lay on the bed and obviously needed care. “Look.” Damian kept his voice controlled and steady. “Just put your clothes on and come out peacefully. We can sort this out like civilized men.” Come on, I’m offering you a way out. Take it!

  The man’s skin flushed. “You?” He shook his head and his neck corded. “You think you can throw me out?” He cracked his neck from side to side. “Do you have any idea who I am, boy?”

  Oh, that’s how you want to play it? Damian smirked. “From what I can tell, a fat bully, who’s too much a coward to take on a man, so he takes his frustrations out on helpless women.” His muscles quivered. “Did I miss anything?”

  The older man’s wild eyes widened, and he screamed as he lunged at younger man.

  Damian dodged the punch.

  The fat man’s veins strained against his reddened skin as tried to hit his target.

  But the younger man was faster.

  Controlling his breathing and harnessing his fluttering chest, Damian danced around his tiring stout foe. His heart pounded. An opening would appear at any moment. His expression tightened. There. The man dropped his guard. Damian smiled and unleashed a savage right hook on his jaw.

  The defeated man fell on his hands and knees. He was wheezing, and his entire body was quaking. “You –” He spat blood on the carpetless floorboards. “You’re dead.” He jumped up with a guttural roar. His hand clenched a knife.

  Oh darn. The fear of imminent death was stabbing at Damian’s mind and thoughts, and he took a step back. This wasn’t good. A fistfight was one thing, but with a knife in play… He frowned. A chill went down his back. Just dodging was no longer an option, he’d have to block.

  He panicked. But block with what? The room was scant with bare walls holding only one window, and the only furniture being a simple wooden desk and the wide bed.

  The man slowed his breathing and narrowed his gaze at the younger man.

  Damn it, he’s calming down. Though, at this point, I doubt he’d consider talking. Damian sighed and shook his head.

  The clothes were an option, though an unsafe one. He gulped. He could use a pillow, but getting to those would be tricky. He’d have to time it perfectly. What should I do?

  The man pinched his mouth and stepped forward. His lip curled. He swiped a few times, but nothing hit.

  Okay, this is how it has to be. I can do this. He took a deep breath and waited. The man struck again. Shivers ran through Damian. He rolled forward under the strike instead of dodging and landed next to the bed. His stomach became a bottomless pit. His mouth dried out. This is it! He lunged forward, grabbed a pillow, and turned around to block. His heart skipped a beat as the knife stabbed up to the hilt into the pillow. Yes!

  He chuckled. “I got you now!” With a racing heartbeat drumming in his chest, he threw the pillow and knife away and kicked his adversary in the stomach as hard as he could.

  The man wheezed and coughed as he fell down. His lips were smiling, even as his eyes were glaring. “You fool.” He spat at the feet of an approaching Damian. “You have no idea what you just did. You have no idea who you’re messing with.” His jaw clenched. “You’re dead.” Then he suddenly laughed. “Your harlots are dead.” He raised his chin and eyebrows. “This building will
burn.”

  Damian approached the brute. No, not a man. This was an animal. “Oh yeah? And what makes you so confident of that?”

  The man grinned and raised his head, a mad glean filling his eyes. “I’m Jack Baxter’s brother.”

  Damian’s next punch knocked the man unconscious, and he proceeded to drag the porker outside and dump him into the rain.

  “This was a huge mistake on your part, Turner.” The spindly woman was sitting behind a mahogany desk full of papers, and her thin lips were pinched.

  The coils in his stomach were wound so tight, he wanted to scream, but instead, he shook his head and sighed “Well, what was I supposed to do?” He had that exasperated look on his face. “He was beating Meryl.” No one got to hurt his sisters and get away with it. No one.

  She pinched the bridge of her nose and drummed her fingers. She had the now-that-was-dumb look on her face. “Be that as it may, there had to have been a better way of handling this.” Her face was diamond shaped, with hints of wrinkles on her eyes, and her cheeks were sunken.

  The room they were in was big, with paintings lining the walls. Two bookcases sat behind the desk, and a red wool rug laid on the floor. There were also two more chairs in the room, as well as a sofa. Flames were crackling in a fireplace. The air was heavy with perfume, and the inarticulate —and not so pleasant —grunts and groans thankfully did not penetrate.

  He snorted, but his voice had no power in it. “He attacked me.” He avoided meeting her gaze. She had this bad habit of staring into your soul when she was angry with you. He shuddered, internally, of course. Heavens forbid she see him and ask what was up. “He pulled a knife on me.” With another sigh, he looked into her brown eyes for the first time since coming in. “He never gave me a chance, madam.” Yup, there’s the soul stare.

  Her shoulders slumped. “Well. What’s done is done. But we still need to handle what is to come.” She looked at him with eyelids half dropped. “What do you know of Jack Baxter?”

  “Pretty much nothing.”

  “I’m not surprised; he keeps to himself as much as he can help it.” She giggled. “Though, you could say that we ran into one another a few times. Concerning business, of course.”

  He chuckled. “Of course.” Humph, who knew the madam had a love life? Not that she was ugly, mind you, but – his stomach rolled, as fingers of cold glided down his neck – who knew what those creepy eyes of hers could do in a situation like that. “But why is it such a big deal, then, if he’s such a recluse?” Besides, that line of thought was pretty much thinking of the love life of one’s mother to him… Aw, great, now that picture is stuck in my head.

  She stared at her palm. Her voice thickened. “Because his crew isn’t.” Her posture sagged. “Baxter runs a hell down under old man Mercer’s abandoned factory.” She made vague gestures with her hands. “Runs a thief and thief-taker business on the side, too. Not to mention that he has so much blunt he can practically drown in it.”

  Damian dropped his head into his palms. “And I beat up his brother…” Stupid, Damian, stupid!

  The madam nodded and took a deep breath. “Now you see our problem.” She shook her head. “Not to mention what a mean crew he has. They carry guns at all times and aren’t afraid to use them.”

  “And now I’m in their black books…”

  She nodded.

  The magnitude of his decision hovered over him like a vulture circling its next meal. What should I do?

  He felt a heavy weight settling on his chest. I could run.

  He bit his lip. No, that wouldn’t work. I’d have to spend the rest of my life running and looking over my shoulder.

  He closed his eyes and rubbed them. Not to mention what they’ll do to the girls here. So, that’s not an option.

  He swallowed and cracked his neck. Could I kill him?

  He pressed his hands on his stomach. No… No, I couldn’t. I’m no killer.

  He chuckled. Besides, I’d get jumped way before I ever got to him.

  He took a deep breath and crossed himself. No, there’s only one choice…

  “You done having an internal breakdown?”

  “Huh?” He snapped his gaze up, only to see the madam smiling at him. Cursed old women, thought they could make fun of him! Oh, who was he kidding, he would’ve done the same to her. “Yes, sorry. I was just thinking about what I could do.”

  “And?”

  He shrugged. “I’m just going to play it by the ear. Meet with him. Try to work things out,” his gaze dropped, “or at least try to make sure he takes his revenge only on me and leaves you all alone.”

  Her chin tremored as she stood up and approached him; he rose from his chair. “You come back to me, you hear?” She caressed his cheeks and high cheekbones. “You come back.” She hugged him.

  He nodded and left with no goodbyes. What could he have even said? “I promise not to die?” His heart tightened in his chest as he stepped onto the street. Nonsense. He started walking. As if he could tell her something like that.

  Old man Mercer’s abandoned factory loomed over him like the gallows. His face was ashen, and cold sweat rolled down his neck. This was it. He wanted to move, but he was frozen to the spot. Stuck, watching those would-be gallows and the noose tightening around his neck. I can do this… There was no going back now. He took a step forward…

  And then something hit him on the back of the head hard enough to knock him out.

  He groaned and rapidly blinked. Ugh, what hit me? His head was heavy and dropped down. He was dizzy. His mind was a haze.

  Where am I?

  He tried moving, but he could only struggle. Apparently, he was tied to something. A chair? Heat rushed through his body.

  I feel like I’m forgetting something really important right now. What was he doing before? He shook his head. He was back home this morning… He was minding his own business, when…

  Oh, damn! He opened his eyes and looked around. He was in an empty room with torches—of all things— lining the stone walls.

  “I have a flair for the dramatic, you see.” The voice was gruff and came from behind him.

  He shook his head and cracked his neck. “What?”

  A man appeared in front of him. “I assumed you would ask about the torches.” He was tall, though not as tall as Damian, and broad shouldered. “Everyone always does.” He shrugged. “They are purposely made to be very medieval.” He grinned; a missing tooth was visible in the flickering light. “Then again, you are in my dungeon, so…”

  Damian snorted and offered a friendly smiled. “Jack Baxter, I suppose?”

  The man bowed his head. “At your service.” Then, he smiled. “My two friends behind you are Rick and Tom.”

  “What two…” His question was interrupted, quite rudely in his opinion, by two slaps on the back of his head. Wonderful, he has gorillas here too. As if life hasn’t already bent me over enough…

  He nodded and slumped his shoulders. “Well, I wanted to meet you. This is as good a chance as any.”

  “Quite.” Baxter chuckled. “I have to say, you are a tall lad.”

  His tone was monotonous, and his face blank. This really wasn’t a good time to dillydally. Get it over with and go home, as Damian always said.

  “I’m here to talk about what happened with your brother.”

  The older man gestured a “no” with his finger. “There’s nothing to talk about there, my friend. You did what you did, and I’m going to do what I’m going to do. That’s all there is to it.”

  Damian’s brow furrowed. This smells funny. His jaw set. “Really?” There was a strong coppery feel to the air, and it smelled of human excrement. “Then why am I still alive?”

  Baxter’s smile failed to reach his eyes. “I like to consider myself a businessman first and foremost. We’re here to talk about what you can do for me.” He spread his arms. “After all, reclusive I may be, but I’m no fool. I’d rather get a man in dun territory than darken his daylights.
” His smile widened into a grin. “So, tell me, Mr. Whatever-Your-Name-Is, what can you offer me to save yourself?”

  Damian dropped his gaze, and his hands went limp. Like you don’t know my name… Humph… You knew everything there is to know about me before I even approached this dreadful place. His heart thudded dully in his numb chest. What can I offer you, though? He had a tight dry feeling in his throat and the inability to see a positive outcome. I have no money, nor business… I have no useful acquaintances, or connections. I have no political power…