Enjoy an exciting excerpt from
The Undercover Duke,
out March 2018
Lucas shifted as the carriage turned and he was rocked against the wall. Every muscle in his body protested with screaming pain and he gripped his fists against the leather carriage seat to keep from crying out.
How he hated being injured. Being weak. How he hated that it all felt so commonplace to him now. Pain was just part of life.
The carriage came to a stop and he looked out the window as the servants began to move to help him. It was a small cottage that they’d come to. One that looked like every other cottage in Garygreen, a part of London he’d never been to before. He knew all the worst parts through his job, and the best thanks to his upbringing.
He hated them both equally. But this place was suspended somewhere in between. Not too high and mighty, but neat and tidy, well maintained. Anonymous.
The door opened and the men Stalwood had tasked with helping him appeared. Their faces were grim as one said, “Ready, Your Grace?”
Lucas winced at both the recognition of the pain about to come and the title that was used to address him. “Yes,” he ground out, his voice rough as he reached out to steady himself on waiting arms. He staggered forward, trying in vain to keep his grunts of agony in as he was helped down.
The men looked away as they guided him up the stairs to the cottage door. They were spies, like he was, sent to do this menial task because they were the only ones to be trusted with the secret of his location. He knew what they saw when they looked at him: their future. And it wasn’t one they wanted, so they distanced themselves.
The door to the cottage was already open and the men helped him in. They didn’t hesitate as they all but carried him up another short flight of stairs and down a hall to an open door. Lucas had to believe this had all been prearranged. He did not yet even know who it was who would be taking care of him during his time here. Stalwood had said a healer, but nothing more.
A healer. He all but scoffed. He’d been poked and prodded and tortured by many a man who called himself that. The amount of healing that had followed was laughable. He was broken, perhaps irretrievably, and that sent a wash of rage and pain through him more powerful than any caused by the physical.
“Let me go,” he snapped, staggering from the arms of those helping him and all but collapsing against the edge of the bed.
The men seemed unmoved by his ill humor. All but one left him there. The last was named Simmons. Lucas glared at him. He’d trained this particular pup years ago, and now the boy stared at him like he was a dotard, lost to his youth and usefulness.
“Is there anything I can do?” Simmons asked, all that pity heavy in his mournful tone.
“No,” Lucas said through clenched teeth as he turned his face. “Just get out.”
“Well, that is a pretty way to talk to someone who is helping you!”
Lucas turned at the sharp, feminine voice that had said those harsh words. There, standing in the doorway, staring at him like he was a monster, was a woman. Not just a woman, a goddess, it would seem. She had dark hair with deep red highlights, a finely shaped face and full lips. Her eyes were the most spectacular green he had ever seen. Like jade stolen from faraway lands that he could only dream of now.
At this moment, those green eyes were narrowed and filled with anger as she folded her arms and shook her head. Her censure made him feel a strange sense of…shame. An odd sensation he rarely experienced. He’d cut that away a long time ago.
“Mr. Simmons, is it not?” she asked, turning to the other man in the room.
“Yes, miss,” Simmons said, and his gaze flitted over their companion. Lucas recognized the interest that lit in his eyes. The same he felt in his own belly.
Only the younger man likely had a better chance than he did in his current state.
“Thank you for your help. I believe I can handle the situation from here. Please send word to Lord Stalwood that we are settled.”
Simmons glanced at Lucas and then back to the woman. “Of course, miss. I will be one of the guards rotating here. If you have any trouble, if you need anything, put a candle in the front window and I will come at once.”
The young woman nodded, and seemed oblivious to Simmons’ regard as she motioned him toward the hallway. “I appreciate that kindness. Good day.”
Simmons shrugged ever so slightly and left. Once he was gone, the young woman turned toward Lucas, those sharp eyes still filled with slight disgust and judgment.
“Hello,” she said, stepping into the room. “I trust the room will be comfortable, even if it does not meet your standards.”
Lucas leaned on the bed with his undamaged arm, mostly because he was not entirely certain he could stay upright on his own. “I have no standards, I’m afraid. Ask anyone in my acquaintance.”
Her lips pursed in what seemed like annoyance at his quip and she moved toward him. “Let me help you.”
He recoiled as she reached out. “I can get myself into the bed.”
Her brow wrinkled, and when her gaze swept over him, he felt her judgment even more powerfully. She glanced at his face and shrugged. “So you say. Then I shall let you get settled on your own if that is your choice at present. I will return in an hour to bring you some food and to check your wounds.”
She said nothing else, nor did she wait for his answer to her statement. She merely turned on her heel and marched from the room, tugging the door behind herself as she left.
When she was gone, Lucas collapsed against the mattress, too exhausted and pained to even try to remove his boots. He had no idea who the lady was, nor her role in the next few weeks of his life. Perhaps she was the healer’s wife or daughter. Perhaps she was a servant. He supposed he would find out soon enough.
Whatever the answer, her presence, as lovely as it was, did not change the facts of his life. He did not want to be here, and he was going to do everything in his power to get away from this place as soon as possible.