A Duke Never Forgets (The Duke Hunters Club, #3)

by Blythe, Bianca

  Something about Lady Letitia drew his attention, and he didn’t think it was simply the outrageous hat, decked with bows and lace, she was wearing. If he didn’t have amnesia, he would have said that he had seen her before.

  Obviously, that was impossible.

  “We would like to thank everyone for your assistance,” Lady Letitia’s mother said. “My daughter is going to give everyone a gift.”

  The men filed up. Sebastian recognized Mr. Williams, and he shifted his legs from side to side, as if the action might rid him of the odd discomfort rushing through him.

  Mr. Williams threw his face into a heavy sneer. “What are you doing here?”

  Sebastian gritted his teeth.

  He refused to get into a confrontation at church. Even an explanation was unlikely to be received well by the fast-tempered Mr. Williams. He rather wished that Lady Letitia and her mother had not decided to honor them at church, but no doubt, church was where everyone was gathered together.

  The people before him started to be thanked by Lady Letitia and her mother. Finally, it was his turn, and he strode toward Lady Letitia’s mother.

  Her eyes widened, and she furrowed her brow. Then, she said, “thank you for taking part in the search.”

  “I only wish we could have found him,” he said.

  Instead of giving him a placid smile, the sort appropriate for such occasions, she frowned, as if Sebastian had asked her a particularly difficult riddle.

  Then he moved toward her daughter.

  “Please let me give my condolences,” Sebastian said.

  Lady Letitia swung her head up, and her hat went askew.

  “It’s you,” she breathed.

  Sebastian shifted his weight from leg to leg. Why were the woman’s eyes widening in that manner?

  The other farmhands joked that Sebastian was good-looking, and he never remembered any complaints during his childhood, but she shouldn’t gaze at him as if he were some Greek god inexplicably wandering on earth.

  “Sandridge?” she asked, her voice trembling.

  He stepped back, uneasily. Perhaps this was why that duke had decided to avoid her. She seemed rather intense.

  “You’re back.” Lady Letitia moved a gloved hand toward her throat. “Where were you?”

  He wrinkled his brow. “I don’t know what you’re speaking about, my lady.”

  She blinked.

  “I’m just here to—er—collect the money for the farmhands,” Sebastian said.

  Lady Letitia frowned and turned toward her mother.

  “Perhaps he just resembles him,” her mother said soothingly, as Lady Letitia returned her attention to Sebastian.

  “I don’t understand,” Sebastian said.

  “That’s his voice.” Lady Letitia drew her thin eyebrows together. “Are you making a fool of me?”

  “I don’t think that’s much of a question,” her mother said. “It’s evident that he is.”

  Lady Letitia pouted. “I don’t like being made foolish.”

  “Few people do,” Sebastian said tentatively, unsure where she was going with this statement, but deciding that agreeableness was always appreciated.

  “Then why are you standing here?” she bellowed, and he stumbled, shaken by her sudden emotion.

  The others in the room were now silent.

  “You’re the Duke of Sandridge,” she said.

  “Nonsense. I’m Mr. Seagull.”

  “Ridiculous,” she shrieked.

  Mr. Ackley moved quickly toward her, then stared at Sebastian accusatorily. “What’s going on here?”

  “I have found the missing duke.” Lady Letitia pointed at Sebastian with a haughty flourish. “Unfortunately, his behavior has only worsened.”

  “You’re making a mistake, my lady,” Sebastian said politely, but an odd uncertainty moved through him.

  “This is Mr. Seagull,” Mr. Ackley agreed, but his eyes narrowed somewhat.

  “Would you please stop saying that?” Lady Letitia wailed. She took a glass from the altar and flung it at Sebastian.

  Hard.

  It rolled over the floor, clinking with each bounce.

  Sebastian stared at her.

  Something about her did seem familiar. He’d seen that haughty look at balls before.

  Then everything clicked. Memories floated through him. Memories of a large estate in Hampshire. Memories of inheriting unexpectedly. Memories of balls in London. Memories of Lady Letitia, and also memories of the Lake District. Memories of traveling down to Cornwall.

  “I’m the Duke of Sandridge,” he said, his throat thick.

  She rolled her eyes. “Naturally. And I’m not giving you any momentary award for finding yourself.”

  “This man was discovered by the shore a week ago,” Mr. Ackley said. “He has amnesia.”

  “I think I’m remembering.” Sebastian turned toward Genevieve excitedly. He searched for her in the crowd, finally spotting her. “I’m remembering, sweetheart. I’m remembering!”

  For some reason, her face was pale and drawn.

  Lady Letitia stared at him, quiet now, perhaps sensing that Sebastian seemed every bit as confused as everyone else.

  “My second cousin died,” Sebastian said slowly. “And then his younger brother did.”

  “That was ages ago,” Lady Letitia said.

  Well.

  “I’m a duke,” Sebastian said.

  “We know,” Lady Letitia said, slipping the pouch of money back into her reticule. “You don’t need a reward. You have more money than anyone in Hampshire.”

  “I won’t have to work on the farm anymore,” Sebastian breathed.

  Lady Letitia looked at him oddly.

  “I won’t have to be a plowman.” Sebastian beamed. He turned toward Genevieve again. “Did you hear that, sweetheart?”

  “Plowman?” Lady Letitia’s mother asked.

  “It’s a joke, Mother,” Lady Letitia said. “The man is for some reason, terribly prone to it.”

  Lady Letitia’s mother’s shoulders relaxed.

  “But where are you staying?” Lady Letitia asked. “We visited your cottage and were told that you were gone.

  His cottage.

  Genevieve.

  He waved toward his family. “Genevieve! Mother! Billy! You must come here.”

  Billy came first, weaving easily through the crowd. Sebastian knelt down, and Billy scrambled into his arms.

  Lady Letitia shot him a horrified expression, but he ignored it.

  “I have news for you,” he told Billy. “I have excellent news.”

  Genevieve and Mother soon appeared. For some reason, they were glancing nervously at Billy, nervously at him.

  These two certainly did not like church.

  “Sweetheart!”

  Sebastian exclaimed. Joy spread through his body.

  She was going to adore this news.

  What other plowman could say the same? He was so lucky, and he’d make her so happy.

  “Sebastian?” Her voice wobbled in an odd manner, and he frowned.

  Then he remembered.

  He’d met Genevieve. Genevieve... Devon?

  He swallowed hard, and his heart sped.

  She’d...lied.

  Suddenly, staying upright seemed a remarkable feat.

  He’d told Genevieve he’d loved her. He’d thought she was his wife... but they’d never married. They’d never courted. They weren’t even friendly acquaintances.

  He despised her.

  And she, it seemed, despised him.

  Had she been laughing at him this whole time?

  Everything had been a lie.

  A terrible, revolting lie.

  He’d visited her at Ocean Cottage, and she’d refused to move, even when he’d told her how important the cottage was to him. She’d been living there under an assumed name with her family. Evidently, he’d disturbed her family’s cozy deception. She’d insulted the cottage, tried to make him fix a leak, then followed h
im to the shore.

  He wouldn’t have hit his head if she hadn’t disturbed him.

  He wouldn’t have forgotten anything, and he wouldn’t have spent the past few weeks being worried that he hadn’t provided better for her.

  Had she laughed when he’d gone to plow the fields, eager to earn extra money for their household?

  “I-I hate you,” he stammered.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  SEBASTIAN’S WORDS ROARED through Genevieve’s mind, but it wasn’t his statement that upset her most. It was his look.

  Shock, then scorn descended upon his face.

  For a moment, she waited, hoping he’d tell her he still loved her.

  The words didn’t come.

  “You knew I was a duke,” he said softly. “You knew all this time.”

  She nodded miserably, conscious of people murmuring behind her.

  “Wait. Are you seriously saying that this ‘ere farmhand is a duke?” Mr. Williams squinted and looked at Sebastian dubiously. Then he shook his head. “No, absolutely not.”

  “He’s not a farmhand,” Lady Letitia said. “These men and their appalling senses of humor.”

  Mr. Williams scrunched up his forehead. “What does appalling mean?”

  “Something ghastly,” Lady Letitia said.

  Mr. Williams exhaled noisily. “This man ain’t no duke. His wife and him...”

  “Wife?” Lady Letitia stared at Genevieve.

  Genevieve averted her eyes quickly, but it was too late. Perhaps she’d never even had any hope.

  Lady Letitia had seen her at too many parties, too many balls, even though Lady Letitia was normally swirling about at such events, and not sitting in the corner like Genevieve and her friends. The same skill Lady Letitia showed in choosing immaculately designed dresses, wearing her hair in impeccable chignons, and striding about in elaborately embroidered slippers which never got dirty, made her recognize Genevieve, even right here, in Cornwall.

  Lady Letitia smirked. “Good morning, Miss Devon.”

  Genevieve’s throat dried.

  “She ain’t no ‘miss,” Mr. Williams said in an outraged manner. “She’s the devil ‘erself.”

  “I didn’t realize you took such an open-minded outlook on devils, Mr. Williams,” Lady Letitia said lightly. “I rather like it.”

  The man’s face brightened, and he simpered.

  On another day, Genevieve might have rolled her eyes, but now her eyes stung. She fought to resist the urge to cry.

  Crying wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t make Sebastian’s face become gentle. It would only spoil her face and increase attention. She didn’t want all these people imagining her crying if they saw her in the future. She didn’t want to shake and hiccup and have tears flood down her cheeks as if her eyes had become hurricanes.

  “Miss Genevieve Devon,” Lady Letitia said triumphantly. “I didn’t know you were from Cornwall. I always thought you came from Cumberland.”

  “I don’t know what you’re speaking about,” Genevieve said.

  Mr. Ackley narrowed his eyes. “Did you say ‘Devon’?”

  “That is her surname.”

  “Well, it’s Mrs. Seagull now,” Mr. Williams declared.

  “Your input is utterly unnecessary,” Lady Letitia said. “Obviously, you’re only adding nonsense to the conversation.”

  “Bloody fancy ladies,” Mr. Williams muttered.

  Laughter sounded from some people. The congregation seemed to give the proceedings more attention than they might give a regular service.

  “Mr. Williams,” Mr. Ackley said in a shrill voice. “Do you think our Heavenly father would like to hear you curse?”

  “I don’t know. My father always thought it amusing,” Mr. Williams said.

  Mr. Ackley scowled. “You are a wicked, wicked man, Mr. Williams.”

  “I ain’t the man whose been calling himself by a false name,” Mr. Williams said in a peeved tone.

  “Er—well.” Mr. Ackley cast his gaze at Sebastian. “That is perhaps suspicious.”

  “Highly suspicious,” Mr. Williams corrected.

  Mr. Ackley turned to him. “You should return to your pew. In fact, none of you should be here.” He glanced at Lady Letitia and her mother. “You’re absolutely certain that this man is the Duke of Sandridge?”

  “I have no doubt,” Lady Letitia said.

  “Ah...” Mr. Ackley strode toward the pulpit. “There’s evidently been a misunderstanding. You are free to leave church and—er—think about God. Thank you again to the men who helped search for the duke. There’s been an—er—development.”

  “He means this man was the duke, all along.” Mr. Williams jerked his thumb at Sebastian. “We were searching in the mud the other night. All along, this duke was just having a laugh, pretending to be one of us.”

  “I wasn’t trying to pretend,” Sebastian rushed to clarify.

  Mr. Williams scowled at him. “The result is similar.”

  “I had amnesia. It’s a medical condition.”

  “I don’t care what you had, you shouldn’t have pretended to be someone you weren’t. It’s not right to do that.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sebastian said finally.

  Mr. Williams shrugged. “Too late now.” He glanced upward. “Do you see this, Lord? This ‘ere man was doing bad things. He admitted them in church.”

  He waited a moment, as if hoping to hear a clap of thunder.

  Nothing sounded.

  Mr. Ackley exhaled. “I hope you will now go elsewhere, Mr. Williams.”

  “Very well,” Mr. Williams said crossly, then marched away.

  A few parishioners murmured, then followed him quickly out, perhaps eager to learn the gossip directly from a source who seemed to possess viable information.

  Mr. Ackley watched the church continue to empty, then turned back. “Now what on earth are you doing?”

  Sebastian stepped back.

  “Did you really have amnesia?” Mr. Ackley asked. “Or did you just say that for amusement?”

  “Of course, I had it!” Sebastian protested.

  “He did,” Genevieve confirmed, but the others only scowled at her.

  “It seems to me we had an unmarried man and an unmarried woman acting like a married couple. I find that disgraceful. I’m only glad my dear Mr. Ackley Junior is not in earshot. You lot are scandalous. I don’t think you are regular churchgoers at all.”

  Mama flushed.

  Sebastian stared at Genevieve and her mother. “Why did you tell me that my last name was Seagull?”

  “I can tell you that,” Mr. Ackley said.

  Sebastian turned to him sharply. “Indeed.”

  “It’s obvious,” Mr. Ackley said. “There were seagulls on that beach. You were unclothed and Miss Potter—or is it, Miss Devon?—was standing over you.”

  Sebastian stepped back.

  “That is a horrible story,” Lady Letitia said, but her eyes glowed, and Genevieve suspected she would enjoy retelling this story for the next few years.

  Heavens, if she followed past generations and wrote her own memoir, people would be talking about Genevieve’s behavior for centuries.

  This was horrible.

  They weren’t supposed to reveal their true identity, and yet, not only had they done that, they’d done so in the presence of three people in the ton who must very much despise them.

  But worst, she’d lost Sebastian.

  “What’s happening?” Billy asked. “Why is everyone arguing?”

  “I’ll take him,” Mother said faintly.

  “Take me where?” Billy asked. “I like it here.”

  He snuggled closer into Sebastian’s arms. Sebastian looked at him with a bemused expression on his face. For a moment, Genevieve thought Sebastian, and not Billy, might cry.

  Then Sebastian firmed his expression. “It’s been nice to make your acquaintance.”

  Billy blinked.

  “Now, you’re going to go to your mother.”


  Billy opened his mouth, perhaps in protest, but Sebastian quickly put Billy down. Mama swooped him up efficiently.

  “Goodbye,” Mama said. “I hope you can forgive us. We did have reasons.”

  “And we weren’t certain how to tell you,” Genevieve added.

  Sebastian was silent, then turned away.

  Pain shot through Genevieve, as if he’d struck her.

  Genevieve stared at his back, conscious of Lady Letitia’s widening lips and sparkling eyes.

  “Come Genevieve,” Mama said finally. “We need to leave.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  SEBASTIAN WAS RICH. The fact was not unpleasant. There would be no more toiling in fields, and no more tromping about in the middle of the night if an odd job appeared. He would live in a house larger than the cottage.

  And yet...

  Sebastian was certain he’d been much happier yesterday than he was today. Yesterday, he’d been confident he had a wonderful wife, a wonderful family, a wonderful cottage. He’d had goals he was working toward to make everything even more comfortable.

  Now, the only thing that remained was his comfort. He was a duke, one unconcerned with money.

  The thought should give him more joy.

  He’d been a fool to not recognize that Genevieve and her mother were lying to him. He’d thought he’d done something wrong by having such a fancy chaise and such well-bred horses. He’d thought he hadn’t attempted to support his family with sufficient effort and dedication.

  All of that had been a lie.

  “My poor duke,” Lady Letitia said. “You look so glum. You should be happy you’ve been rescued.”

  “I’m happy,” he said.

  “I am so glad,” Lady Letitia said, “that my efforts were successful.”

  “She was very worried for your health, Your Grace,” Lady Letitia’s mother said. “My daughter has such a caring, giving soul. She is utterly selfless and obstinate in fighting for the causes she believes in.”

  “Helping to locate dukes?” Sebastian asked. “Is that your cause of choice?”