My Dangerous Duke by Gaelen Foley Page B

both the old man’s nephews.”
    Kate approached the last cell warily, gazed through the bars while Rohan held up the torch, and confirmed the last man’s guilt with a grim nod. “Yes. Him, too.”
    “Me? What?” The fellow in the cell looked up with a blank air of utter innocence. “What’s she talkin’ about?”
    “What, indeed?” Rohan answered dryly. “Peter Doyle, isn’t it?”
    “Aye, Your Grace.” He stood and approached his overlord with a much humbler attitude than his cousin had shown. Sensible lad.
    Rohan glanced at her. “You’re sure?” he clarified with a trace of regret in his low voice.
    “Certain of it,” she replied.
    “What do you want with me?” Peter Doyle whimpered.
    The duke narrowed his eyes at him. “Oh, I think you know.”
    “Huh?” He gulped at Rohan’s dark look and began backing away toward the corner of his cell.
    Kate glared at the prisoner. “This was the man who held me at gunpoint in the carriage while the other two went in to rob my home, like I told you.”
    “What the—what is she talking about?” Pete stammered, playacting amazement.
    Kate seethed at his denial, but out of her three captors, he was the least intimidating.
    Peter Doyle was a large but flabby rectangle of a man, also in his early twenties like his cousin, but with coarse and curly hair an uninteresting blond shade. He had nervous hazel eyes and something of a horse face.
    “Is there something that you want to tell me, Pete?” Rohan focused his unnerving stare on the young man.
    “Uhm, er, I …”
    “Something to do with a kidnapping, perhaps, hm?”
    “What? Sir!” he exclaimed with great indignation. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean!”
    “Don’t you dare deny it!” Kate flew at him without warning, gripping the bars.
    “Easy, Kate.”
    “He was there! You dragged me from my home—”
    “No, I—sir, the lass is daft. Kidnapped? What? Someone kidnapped you? I’m Caleb Doyle’s nephew!” he cried, his face beginning to look quite terrified by the flickering torchlight. “Sir, you’ve known my family for ages! Surely Your Grace cannot believe this harlot over me? Whatever she says, she’s lying!”
    “Well, I believe her,” he answered softly.
    “I am not a harlot,” Kate reminded him in a withering tone. “As you well know.”
    “Aye, you are!” Peter insisted. “You want to become some rich man’s ladybird … in London! Remember?” His own conviction in his uncle’s lie seemed to be dwindling, but his eyes suddenly widened when Rohan took off his coat and handed it off to a guard.
    Then he removed his gloves and loudly cracked his knuckles. “Show Miss Madsen upstairs,” he instructed his men. “Tell Eldred to see her settled into a guest room.”
    “What are you doing?” Kate murmured.
    “Unlock the cell,” he ordered the guard in an almost amiable tone.
    “Miss, if you’ll come with me.” The guard gestured to her to follow.
    “I’m not leaving! This is my affair as well as yours!”
    “Run along, Kate.”
    “You won’t want to see this, Miss,” the guard advised her in a low tone.
    “I’m not going anywhere!” she protested, shaking off the guard’s light hold and turning to the duke.
    He was staring at Peter Doyle like a wolf homing in on the weakest sheep in a flock.
    “M-maybe she should stay!” Peter said with a gulp as he pressed himself flat against the far wall of his cell. “Like she said, it is her business, too, uh, right?”
    “You’d appreciate that, I’m sure,” Rohan murmured.
    “I thought you didn’t know anything, Peter!” Kate reproached him.
    “I think … I might be remembering.” He gulped. “Please, Your Grace … can’t the lady stay?”
    “Oh, now I’m a lady?” She shook her head at Pete in disgusted surprise. Obviously, the only reason he wanted her to remain was in the hope that the Beast would not unleash his full wrath in front of a woman.
    Rohan was staring at Pete when she tapped him