“I’ll Marry the First Man Who Enters,” She Joked — Then the Duke Walked In
Chapter 17
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The men rushed forward, prying the bent gate open. Augustus practically fell out of the cage, stumbling to his knees in the mud.Bella broke through the line of engineers. She didn't care who saw: she dropped into the freezing muck beside him, grabbing his face with both hands. He was freezing; he was trembling violently."Augustus," she choked out.His dark eyes snapped to her face. He blinked through the soot and the haze of pain, his breathing a ragged, wet rattle. He looked at her ruined dress, her bare hands black with coal, and the frantic crowd of organized survivors she had marshaled."You didn't stay in the house," he rasped, coughing weakly."I am balancing your ledgers, Your Grace," she whispered fiercely, tears finally cutting hot, clean tracks down her filthy cheeks. "You are my most valuable asset. I will not let you be written off."Augustus let out a raw, broken sound that might have been a laugh. He leaned his heavy head against her shoulder, his massive, battered body finally giving out."Take me home, Bella."The physician left Highridge Manor at 2:00 in the morning. He had set Augustus's broken arm, stitched the gash on his temple, and wrapped his bruised ribs in thick linen. The duke was forbidden to leave his bed for three weeks; the physician had looked terrified delivering the diagnosis, fully expecting Augustus to throw a boot at his head. Instead, Augustus had simply stared at the ceiling, heavily dosed with laudanum, entirely silent.Now the main bedchamber was quiet; only the sharp crackle of the fire broke the heavy stillness.Bella sat in a hardwood chair beside the mattress. She had bathed, scrubbing the coal dust from her skin until it was raw and pink; she wore a heavy flannel nightgown. She was utterly exhausted, her bones aching with a deep, hollow fatigue. But she could not close her eyes: every time she did, she saw the bent iron of the cage.Augustus shifted against the pillows. He let out a low hiss as his broken ribs protested the movement."Stop moving," Bella ordered, her voice raspy.He turned his head. The laudanum made his dark eyes glassy, but they were still remarkably sharp. "You look terrible, Duchess.""I spent five hours in a mud pit organizing your workforce," she replied dryly, pouring a glass of water from the bedside pitcher. She lifted his head gently, letting him drink. "You are not looking your best, either."He drank, swallowing carefully, then let his head fall back against the linen. "The men?""Seven dead," Bella said plainly. She knew he wouldn't want her to soften the blow. "Forty injured. The eastern seam is completely buried. We are establishing a fund for the widows tomorrow morning; it will come out of the London accounts.""Good." Augustus closed his eyes. "The timber snapped without warning. Just... gone." He let out a shaky breath; the indestructible Duke of Westford sounded terrifyingly fragile.