Free The Other Duke by Jess Michaels Page B

He…he…?”
    She nodded. “Once he took over as duke, he sometimes forced me to come up here for his fun.”
    Rafe stared at her, eyes narrowed, expression dark and dangerous. Then he motioned for her to rise. “Come, we’re leaving.”
    She wrinkled her brow in confusion. “I—what?
    “We certainly aren’t staying in this horrible room or this awful house one more bloody moment now that I know what you endured. Get up, I shall help you dress myself and we will depart immediately.”
    He grabbed for his trousers and pulled them up over his hips in one smooth motion, then looked around for his shirt. All the while, Serafina watched him, uncertain as to what her new husband was talking about.
    “You want to flee this house in the middle of the night?” she asked.
    “Absolutely,” Rafe said, hooking buttons with rapid and impressive speed.
    “Where will we go?” she asked.
    He paused in his dressing and looked at her, his face soft with compassion. “To my home, Sera. We’ll go to my home, just two miles away. Now get up. I’ll ring for the carriage and help you dress.”
    Serafina stared as he moved to ring the bell by the door. She didn’t move, even as a servant knocked and her new husband opened the barrier just enough to say a few soft words to the unseen person. When he turned back, he smiled at her and strode back to the bed, only pausing to gather up her now-wrinkled wedding gown.
    He held it up and she slowly departed the bed as if in a dream. She pulled her chemise over her head before she stepped into the gown and watched him fasten it. She had no idea what Rafe had planned or why he was spiriting her away in the middle of the night.
    But she realized that for the first time in years, she wasn’t utterly afraid.
     

     
    Serafina fought the urge to slip behind Rafe, to hide, as the door to his fine townhouse opened and revealed a finely liveried butler waiting for them.
    “Good evening, Lathem,” Rafe said with a good-natured clap on the shoulder for the man. “Thanks much for rousing yourself so late and preparing for us.”
    The butler’s stern face twitched into a brief smile. “Of course. It was my pleasure, Your Grace.”
    Rafe flinched. “Damn, I suppose you do have to call me that, don’t you?”
    The butler inclined his head. “I’m afraid so, Your Grace.”
    “At least to my face, at any rate,” Rafe chuckled, and to Serafina’s surprise, the butler gave a warm laugh as well. Rafe turned toward her. “May I present my bride? Serafina, the Duchess of Hartholm.”
    Serafina tensed. She had spent nearly two hellish decades preparing to be Duchess Hartholm, but hearing herself called that by Rafe solidified that the moment had finally come. And it was as far different from her imaginings as it could have possibly been.
    “Your Grace,” the butler said with a stiff bow. “Welcome.”
    “We have found we don’t care for the ducal home, Lathem, so we intend to take a few weeks here. We will need to make arrangements for the clothing that was brought to the other home for Her Grace to be moved here, as well as anything my valet took there for me. Her Grace will need a new maid as well, if you have any suggestions either from within the staff or from outside the home.” Rafe fired off these rapid statements before he turned on her. “Are you hungry, Sera?”
    She jolted at the unforeseen question and found both men watching her expectantly. “N-no,” she stammered. “Just tired.”
    Rafe touched her arm briefly. “Of course you are. Lathem, we will retire.”
    The butler nodded. “Yes, sir. I will take care of all these things before you rise tomorrow, and I shall make sure Mrs. Lathem prepares your favorites in the morning.”
    Rafe made a rumbling groan of what sounded to be pleasure. “That sounds divine. Good night.”
    He took Serafina’s arm and she followed him up the stairs and through the winding halls until they reached an open chamber door. When he urged her