Disrupting The Duke, page 1
Disrupting The Duke
Dukes Done Wrong
Book 3
Alexa Aston
© Copyright 2021 by Alexa Aston
Text by Alexa Aston
Cover by Wicked Smart Designs
Dragonblade Publishing, Inc. is an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc.
P.O. Box 7968
La Verne CA 91750
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Produced in the United States of America
First Edition September 2021
Kindle Edition
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All Rights Reserved.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
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Additional Dragonblade books by Author Alexa Aston
Dukes Done Wrong Series
Discouraging the Duke
Deflecting the Duke
Disrupting the Duke
Delighting the Duke
Destiny with a Duke
Dukes of Distinction Series
Duke of Renown
Duke of Charm
Duke of Disrepute
Duke of Arrogance
Duke of Honor
The St. Clairs Series
Devoted to the Duke
Midnight with the Marquess
Embracing the Earl
Defending the Duke
Suddenly a St. Clair
Starlight Night
Soldiers & Soulmates Series
To Heal an Earl
To Tame a Rogue
To Trust a Duke
To Save a Love
To Win a Widow
The Lyon’s Den Connected World
The Lyon’s Lady Love
King’s Cousins Series
The Pawn
The Heir
The Bastard
Medieval Runaway Wives
Song of the Heart
A Promise of Tomorrow
Destined for Love
Knights of Honor Series
Word of Honor
Marked by Honor
Code of Honor
Journey to Honor
Heart of Honor
Bold in Honor
Love and Honor
Gift of Honor
Path to Honor
Return to Honor
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Publisher’s Note
Additional Dragonblade books by Author Alexa Aston
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Epilogue
Sneak Peek of Delighting the Duke
About the Author
Chapter One
Hillside, Surrey—June 1796
Donovan Martin studied the chessboard in front of him, his fingers hovering above his ball. He hesitated and withdrew his hand, resting it in his lap as he thought over the move he wished to make.
“Your instincts are good,” his brother said encouragingly.
He glanced at Sam. “You aren’t trying to trick me, are you?”
Sam laughed. “No. You’re only a beginner. I wouldn’t do that to you. Now, after we’ve played a few years? I would do everything in my power to lead you astray.”
He knew it was true. Though six years older, Sam always looked out for Donovan, taking him under his wing and teaching him to ride and swim. He had made Donovan wait until he turned ten before bringing out the chessboard, saying that it took an older boy to understand the intricacies of the game. Sam was right. Chess was hard. Thinking about your next move wasn’t good enough. It was all about thinking several moves ahead. Anticipating what your opponent would do. Working out those scenarios.
Going with his gut, he moved his ball. Seven moves later, he gleefully called out, “Checkmate!” for the first time since he and Sam had begun to play.
“That was terrific, Donovan,” Sam praised.
“I hope you didn’t let me win.”
“I didn’t. You earned this win all on your own. However, I think I did let my guard down and my mind wandered a few times.” He beamed. “I will know in the future not to do that again. You will master this game in no time,” Sam praised.
“What were you thinking about? A girl?” Donovan teased.
Sam’s cheeks turned pink. “No,” he said quickly. “At least, not too much. My mind was on what Father is going to quiz me over later today.”
“Why does he do that all the time?”
“Because I am the heir to the dukedom. Father wants to make sure I am prepared to be the Duke of Haverhill when the time comes.”
He snorted. “I am glad it’s you and not me. I would hate to have to listen to all those stuffy lessons.” Left unsaid was how Donovan was uncomfortable around their father, who probably spoke to his younger son a handful of times in a year. If that.
“They’re not too bad,” his brother defended. “And if they will help me to be a good lord to our people, they will have been worth it. What will you do while I am busy spouting all my knowledge?”
He shrugged. “Probably see if Mama wants to take a walk.”
“I envy you,” Sam said. “You are so close to her. She waited a long time for you.”
The words struck him as odd. “What do you mean?”
Sam lifted his queen from the board and toyed with it as he said, “She had other babies between you and me.”
That was certainly news to him. “How many? Where are they?”
“They didn’t live,” his brother revealed.
“Why haven’t you told me this before?” he demanded.
“You were too young to understand,” Sam said. “She had three miscarriages that I know of. That’s when something goes wrong inside and the baby doesn’t grow right. Each time, she had only been with child a few months. She would have to stay in bed after she lost one. She did have one the year before you were born but it was stillborn.”
Donovan frowned at the term. “I don’t understand.”
“Again, something went wrong. This time, the baby was born but it was still. Dead. They buried her in the family plot.”
It astounded him he hadn’t known about these babies. He and Mama talked about everything. He wondered if he should ask her or if this was something she wanted to keep private.
Sam reached across the table and ruffled his hair. “When she knew she was carrying you, the doctor had her stay in bed so she could rest the entire time. She was so happy when you came out perfect, all ten fingers and toes. Mama cherishes you, Donovan.”
He knew his mother loved him. She told him all the time. But he never remembered her telling Sam that.
“Does Mama cherish you?” he asked quietly.
Sam grew contemplative. “I think she does. As the heir, though, it seems there is an unspoken rule in society that somehow I belong all to Father. Mama doesn’t have much to do with me and never did.”
“And Father has nothing to do with me. I guess I am luckier than you are. Even if you will be the duke someday.”
A polite knock sounded at the door and a maid entered. “His Grace wishes to see you, Lord Samuel.”
“Thank you.” Sam rose. “Off to another quizzing session. Have fun with Mama.”
Donovan watched Sam leave. He was glad he didn’t have to spend time with the duke. If truth be told, he was terrified of his father. He barked orders at everyone and always wore a sour look upon his face. The servants walked on eggshells, all afraid they would lose their positions with a single mishap. The tenants eyed Haverhill carefully anytime he went out on the estate.
Hoping that Sam would pass whatever test set before him today, Donovan went in search of his mother. He found her in her parlor, embroidering next to a window.
“Hello, my darling,” she said as he crossed the room and kissed her cheek.
“Would you like to go for a walk, Mama? It’s a very pretty day.”
The duchess set aside her sewing. “I would love to. Let me fetch my bonnet. I don’t want any freckles to spread across my nose or cheeks.”
Donovan didn’t think a few freckles would detract from her beauty but he waited patiently for her in the foyer. She joined him, slipping her arm through his, and they strolled out the front door.
They walked for a good hour. The sun, which had been hidden behind a curtain of clouds, came out. Its heat seemed to sap Mama’s energy.
“Shall we cut through the woods?” he suggested. “The shade will help cool you.”
“That’s a wonderful idea, my dear.”
They ducked into the nearby copse and continued into the woods until they reached a small brook, following it for half a mile before starting through the forest again. Mama asked to stop and rest. They sat on a fallen log. He wanted to ask her about the other babies she had lost but didn’t want to see the smile fall from her face. She was so happy today and he couldn’t bear to cause her pain.
Helping her to her feet again, they continued strolling through the woods.
Suddenly, a loud shriek erupted.
“Something’s hurt!” Mama cried, lifting her skirts and racing toward the sound.
Donovan hurried after her. He stumbled on a tree root and went sprawling. Quickly righting himself, he ran to catch up—and then heard an unearthly scream. It pierced his ears as much as his soul. He knew it came from his mother.
“Mama!” he shouted, hurrying toward the blur of pale blue satin to his left.
He reached her and came to an abrupt halt, his jaw gaping.
She lay on the ground next to a doe who had been caught in a poacher’s trap. The animal’s panicked eyes frightened him. But what he couldn’t understand was Mama also with the same look in her eyes. He glanced down and saw she had also stepped in a similar trap when she came to the doe’s aid. She’d hiked up her skirts enough so he could see the steel teeth biting into the flesh just above her ankle.
She sobbed, “Help me.”
He fell to his knees and pulled as hard as he could. The jaws of the trap which encased her leg refused to budge. His gaze met hers. Her lips trembled. Her whole body trembled in pain.
“I’ll bring help, Mama.”
Donovan scrambled to his feet. “I’ll hurry. You will be fine,” he promised as he took off, not knowing if she would be.
Help her, God, help her, help her, please, help her.
The thought echoed over and over in his head as he ran as fast as he could. He reached the stables and a groom started to speak to him.
“Send for the doctor. Now!” he shouted. “Mama’s leg is caught in a trap in the woods.”
The groom’s face went white. “Yes, my lord,” he managed to utter.
Donovan continued to the house. As he reached the front door, he saw the groom race by on a horse.
He entered the house and stood in the foyer.
“Father! Father!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. “Father!”
Servants appeared from several directions, including their butler. Donovan ran to him, grasping his lapels in desperation.
“Mama’s hurt. She’s in the woods. She stepped into a trap. I can’t get her out.”
The butler snapped his fingers and two footmen raced out the door. The butler sent a maid to the stables for a horse and cart to bring the duchess home. She rushed from the foyer as Donovan stood helplessly, turning in circles.
Then the duke appeared, Sam right behind him. “What is all this shouting about?” He glared at Donovan. “You are never to disrupt this household in such a manner again or you will be severely punished.”
Out of breath, Donovan placed his hands on his knees, bending over and trying to catch his breath. He heard the butler relay the news to the duke regarding the duchess.
Suddenly, he was jerked upward.
“Where is she?” his father demanded.
“I’ll show you.”
Donovan took off, running out the front door and across the lawn, Sam on his heels. They reached the woods and he shouted for the footmen. They didn’t answer and he pushed further into the forest. He saw the two servants ahead, bending to Mama, and hurried to hold her hand.
“It will be just fine, Mama. I know it hurts.”
She didn’t respond. Her eyes were glassy. Tears streamed down her cheeks but she made no sound beyond a whimper.
Sam took her other hand and squeezed it as the two footmen pried the steel apart. Sam went and stood behind Mama, lifting her under her arms and dragging her back a few feet as she was freed from the trap. Blood gushed from her ripped skin. Sam whipped his coat off and wrapped it around her leg. Almost immediately, the fawn-colored jacket was soaked.
Donovan pulled his coat off. Sam removed his coat and flung it away, taking Donovan’s and wrapping it around Mama’s lower leg.
By now, his father had arrived, looming over them. Donovan saw the duke’s lips purse in displeasure.
“The doe,” Mama murmured as she began to moan. “Help it,” she pleaded.
Donovan looked and saw the animal nearby, still trapped and quaking.
“Damn the doe!” his father roared, going to the trapped beast and stomping hard on its neck.
The animal’s soft keening ceased. The deer’s eyes were wide, its neck broken. Donovan looked away, a sick feeling spreading through him.
“The cart is here, Your Grace.”
“Get her to it,” the duke said impatiently.
The two footmen lifted her, Sam helping to raise her leg. Donovan held her hand as they carried her to the cart, trying to reassure her. Mama had lost all color. She didn’t seem to know where she was.
The servants placed her in the cart and both boys climbed in next to her, taking her hands and stroking her hair. As the driver started the wagon up, Donovan’s gaze met that of the duke’s. They watched one another as the cart pulled away.
Everything was a blur after that. The servants carried Mama to her chambers. He and Sam were told to stay out as Mama’s lady’s maid began to fuss over her. The doctor arrived and was in the bedchamber a long time as the father and both sons waited in the corridor. When the doctor emerged, Donovan knew the news wouldn’t be good.
“May we speak privately, Your Grace?”
“No,” Haverhill said flatly. “Say your piece here.”
Flustered, the physician swallowed and then said, “Her Grace’s leg is nearly severed. The best thing to do would be to amputate the lower part, beneath her knee.”
Disgust filled the duke’s face. “Amputate? I don’t want half a woman. Sew the blasted limb back on, Man.”
Horror filled Donovan. He glanced to Sam, who wore an equal expression.
“That wouldn’t be best for the duchess, Your Grace. She is in shock now. I have also given her laudanum for the pain. It would be easiest to remove it quickly, while she is more numb to pain. It is her best chance of survival,” he added quietly.
His father shook his head. “You heard what I said. No wife of mine will be less than whole.”
The doctor looked at him beseechingly. “Even if I could attach it again, Your Grace, infection is likely to set in. She could die from that. Gangrene could eat away at her.”
Haverhill sniffed. “Then at least she will be buried with two legs. Not one.”
With that, the duke turned and strode away.
“Save her,” pleaded Donovan. “Don’t listen to him, Doctor. Please.”
The physician shook his head. “Your father has legal rights here, my lord. A wife is the property of her husband. His Grace has made his decision.” He paused. “I am so sorry. There is nothing more I can do for her. Prepare yourselves, boys.”
