Dueling With the Duke (Brotherhood of the Sword) by Robyn DeHart Page B

as if to erase the image.
    “You have to distract yourself. Turn your mind to something else,” he said.
    “What should I think about?”
    He shifted in the seat to face her better. “Ask me something. Anything.”
    “Why didn’t you ask me to dance?”
    “Well, first of all, we are in a carriage. Also there is no music,” Gabriel said.
    “I’m being quite serious. Obviously not now. That night we first met. On the balcony.” It was a question she’d wanted to ask him for years, and now he’d given her the opportunity. This conversation certainly wouldn’t erase the image of Mr. Hazleton’s haunting face, but it could distract her momentarily.
    “You seemed more than willing to dance with Rafe.”
    “Yes, but he asked. You did not.”
    He leaned closer until there was but a breath’s distance between them. “Are you suggesting that had I asked you to dance you would have picked me? The second son of a poor duke? That is doubtful.”
    “I wasn’t given the freedom to pick anyone, but I would have loved to dance with you.”
    He leaned back and then was quiet for several moments. “Are you still frightened?”
    “Not now, not while you’re beside me.” It was the truth and not something she should ever have admitted to him. It was an admission that would give him too much power, and that was terrifying.

Chapter Eight
    Lilith had fallen asleep about twenty minutes before they arrived at Ellis’s townhome. Gabe had enjoyed her lush curves pressed against him, her head resting on his shoulder. He’d been hesitant to wake her, but staying out here in the carriage would not assist them in their investigation, and it left her too much in the open, in danger.
    They climbed the stairs together and had not even reached for the door before it opened and one of Ellis’s servants met them. “Your Grace, the viscount left you this note. He instructed I give it to you as soon as you arrived.”
    Someone took Isabel. I’ll bring her back shortly.
    Gabriel folded the parchment and stuck it in his greatcoat pocket. “We must get inside, Lilith.”
    Panic filled her eyes. “Why? What has happened? Where is Isabel?” She bolted through the door and called for her niece. “Isabel?” Lilith moved toward the staircase leading to the bedchambers.
    “Lilith, she’s gone,” Gabe said.
    She froze, then turned to him. “What does that mean?”
    “That is all I know.”
    “Is that what the note said?” She walked toward him and started to reach for the inside of his greatcoat.
    “He did not give details. Ellis has never been one to embellish.”
    “I’ve got to find her.” Lilith made for the front door.
    He took her by the shoulders and met her panicked gaze. “There is nothing you can do but put yourself in danger. Ellis has gone after her. He will bring her back. You can be assured of that.” He led her forward. “Come, let us sit you down and get you something to drink.” Gabe stepped into Ellis’s study to find furniture overturned and a bronze bust on the floor with a bloody stain on the base. “It appears as if he was attacked in here.”
    “Attacked?” Lilith’s hands went to her throat. “Oh my God. Isabel.”
    She looked near faint, so he assisted her to a chair. He then poured her a drink and handed it to her. “Drink this.”
    He stepped over to where the servant stood waiting in the doorway. “Tell me what you know.”
    “We heard a ruckus, but by the time we got here, the girl was gone. Viscount Ellis had a nasty knot on his head, bleeding down in his eyes, too,” the servant said, his cockney accent thick. “He scrawled the note, gave me the instructions, and left immediately.”
    “How far behind them was he?”
    The young man shook his head. “Not long. Maybe quarter of an hour.”
    “Good man,” Gabe said, and then he shut the door and turned back to Lilith. Damnation if he didn’t also want a drink, but now was not the time to lose himself in a glass. He walked over to