And he knew that the future would only be sweeter.
CHAPTER 19
It had become customary for Bruno to rise early and see that everything was to Nando’s liking in his study, where he took his coffee, readThe Times, and reviewed his correspondence. But this morning, the curtains remained curiously closed, the scent of coffee didn’t permeate the air, and his newspaper was nowhere to be found.
Neither was Bruno, for that matter. Nando frowned.
Thinking his manservant’s lapse odd, Nando allowed the door to fall closed at his back and ventured deeper into the room. Not even a brace of candles lit. Fortunately, the morning light streamed in through the window coverings, partially brightening the chamber.
That was when he spied Bruno’s form, curiously still, in a chair by the hearth.
He didn’t think, simply acted, striding forward. “Bruno?”
No answer. Nando quickly found the reason his loyal bodyguard failed to respond. Bruno was slumped over, snoring heavily, a bloody gash on the back of his head. Someone had knocked him insensate.
Sweet God.
There was the brief, prickling sensation on the back of Nando’s neck that told him he wasn’t alone just before a figure moved forward from the shadows of the darkened room, the double barrels of a flintlock pistol pointed directly at him.
“Don’t move,” the man ordered, light illuminating his features as recognition hit Nando like a blow.
“Levering,” he said with a sinking sensation deep in his gut.
How the hell had the man made it past Tierney’s guards? It seemed an impossibility, and yet here he stood, his eyes cold and dead.
“Ah, so youdoremember the face of the man you cuckolded.”
There was no mistaking the rage in the earl’s countenance, sharpening his voice. It would seem that the ghosts of Nando’s past were intent upon haunting him.
“I recall the face of the man who challenged me to a duel quite well,” he said, wondering at the extent of the damage Levering had done to poor Bruno.
And wondering where his bodyguard’s pistol was. Bruno’s hands were empty. Nando had no weapon other than his fists to defend himself. The challenge facing him was grossly unfair. His mouth went dry as his mind raced to find a solution, some means of saving himself and Bruno.
And Eleanora.
The reminder of his beautiful wife sleeping peacefully upstairs filled him with dread. He had to protect her at all costs. Even if it meant sacrificing himself. He would gladly die for her if he had to. But first, he would do everything in his power to defeat the earl and keep her safe.
Nando pretended nonchalance, knowing that he had to keep his opponent calm if he wanted to maintain control over the situation.
He smiled, quite as if the earl were an invited guest in his study. “Pray tell me what the devil this grievance you appear to have with me is about.”
“Do you truly feign ignorance?” Levering sneered. “This is about my wife, you spineless scoundrel.”
Nando clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth in mock chastisement. “Is it not too early in the day for casting aspersions on the character of your host?”
“You dare to make light of me?” Levering’s eyes narrowed as he continued to point the flintlock at Nando. “We shall see which of us has the last laugh.”
“That sounds terribly final.”
“Death is.”
“Then I reckon it would be foolish of me to hope your pistol isn’t loaded.”
“Loaded with a bullet for you, as it happens.”
The determination on the earl’s face was chilling. Nando decided to change tactics.
“You mentioned Lady Levering. What has she to do with this? I believed our unfortunate association had been settled.”
