To Dishonour A Duke

Chapter Seventeen

George leaps into action and grabs Clara's shoulders, pulling her into his chest. She falls into his embrace, her body on top of his as he manoeuvres them down the steps, silently slipping towards the basement entrance.  As soon as their feet touch the concrete floor he swiftly ducks under the stairs and out of sight, dragging her with him. Her wild, panicked gaze clashes with his and she nods as he raises a finger to his lips. Hidden in shadows a few meters below the street, Clara clamps her jaw shut and swallows, wincing as a metallic film covers her tongue causing her stomach to heave in protest. The sound of footsteps draws near and she turns her face away, burying into George's side, her hands closed around his shoulders as the crunch of gravel and stone grows louder. 

"Why did you interrupt me, Harrow?" Dante's voice floats down to the basement level, silky and dangerous, with a slight curious lilt.  

"I...I did not mean to," Harrow stutters, dropping the posh accent of the Albergio White, a rougher east London edge coming through, "I waited outside..." 

"I saw you from the window." 

"Ah, but you didn't have to come outside..." The older man trails off,  covering up the pointed silence with a hasty cough, and then continuing,  "A lady was asking boundless questions about Lord Wellesley. She was unrelenting, insisting that she had business with him." 

"And so you thought it pressing," Dante muses, "What questions did she ask?"

"She is trying to find him. She asked the same questions as Lady De Roch, Lady Rosemary, William Wright and that politician. Someone must be spreading Lord Wellesley's name." 

"Did she give a name?" Dante asks. 

Clara tenses as George sucks in a choked gasp. He clasps a hand over his mouth and both of them strain their ears, waiting. 

"Lady Eaton," Harrow replies.  

"The Duchess of Devonshire?" There is surprise in Dante's tone. 

"Dowager, I believe, and perhaps but she appeared quite young. Although she certainly looked the part of a duchess and acted as such." Harrow sounds annoyed. 

"Hmmm." His companion is silent. "Cassius Grey may be of use to us in this situation, and perhaps Anthony can find out why Lord Wellesley is in such demand." 

"I will arrange the necessities." Harrow draws in a sharp breath, "And what about him? I did not think his death was planned for today." 

George wraps both arms around Clara and flattens them against the wall as the voices above grow even closer. 

"It wasn't, I gave him a chance to repay, but as he walked away I had this feeling that he had outlived his worth," Dante speaks casually, almost as though he has tired of the subject. "Roll him into a ditch nearby," he instructs, "I doubt he will be found for a few days. Thankfully he has no one to miss him." 

"He did not offer an explanation for his actions?" 

"All he did was speak excuses." 

Harrow groans as he stoops down and lifts the thin body onto his shoulder. "That is unfortunate, but I suppose this will save us from executing him in the future." 

"I will wait in the carriage," Dante says, "Don't dally, we now have much to do." 

Shuffling and staggering are heard as Harrow attempts to carry the body down the street, but the thud of the body quickly dies down.  Clara and George don't dare to move as they listen for the slightest sound, for any indication that Dante and Harrow have returned. The five minutes they wait, pinned under the stairs feels like an agonising hour but then the grumbling of gravel and wheel fades as the carriage rolls down the street, heading back the way it came.