The Return of the Duke

by Grace Callaway

  While Fancy was changing, the dressmaker murmured to him, “In designing Her Grace’s new wardrobe, I chose simplicity over ornamentation. True beauty, the kind that glows from within, has no need of excessive polish, yes? No need to gild the lily.”

  Severin could not agree more.

  Afterward, he took his wife and the children to Gunter’s Tea Shoppe on Berkeley Square. Amongst the fashionable set, it was the place to see and be seen, and waiters brought ices out to the lords and ladies, who enjoyed the treats in their carriages parked along the square. Since it was Fancy and the children’s first visit, all three wanted to eat inside the shop.

  Severin secured them a table, and after deliberations worthy of Parliament over the ice menu, Fancy chose chocolate, Toby praline, and Eleanor pineapple. Severin opted for a plate of teacakes. When the sweets arrived, he enjoyed the delight on his wife and siblings’ faces even more than the delicious confections. Eleanor, who’d had her nose buried in a book during the fitting, laid the volume aside as she, Fancy, and Toby sampled one another’s flavors and debated which was the best.

  Watching Fancy interact with the children, Severin had a sudden thought that one day she would be doing this with their own children. Given the frequency of their beddings, chances were good that she would be increasing soon. Part of his motivation to wed had been to secure an heir, but seeing Fancy wipe a smudge of cream from Toby’s nose—shockingly, the only mess he’d made thus far—turned the hypothetical into something…visceral.

  Severin pictured her belly swollen with his child, her eyes in the face of their son, her sweetness in the smile of their daughter, and his chest constricted with a feeling he couldn’t quite name.

  Possessiveness, maybe.

  Fancy smiled at him over the empty dishes. “May we go for a stroll around the square, Knight?”

  Although he had planned to return to work, he didn’t have the heart to deny her.

  Thus, they ambled along the tree-lined street gilded by the autumn sunshine. Fancy and Eleanor walked ahead, Severin and Toby following behind. To keep Eleanor out of her book, Fancy had taken the girl by the hand, pointing out things in shop windows, their bonneted heads leaning together like blooms.

  “Thank you for taking Eleanor and me out today, Your Grace,” Toby said.

  Severin returned his gaze to his half-brother’s freckled face. “It is my pleasure, Toby. You needn’t stand on formality: Knighton will do.” During the awkward pause that followed, he heard Fancy’s voice in his head: A little encouragement would go a long way. He cleared his throat. “Fancy tells me that you have, er, an interest in animals.”

  “Yes, and especially Bertrand,” Toby said enthusiastically. “Donkeys are clever, but Bertrand is the cleverest of donkeys—”

  “Right.” To spare himself further adulation of the mangy beast, Severin asked, “What about other animals? Have you had a pet?”

  Toby shook his head. “My papa—our papa, I mean—didn’t like animals. He had hounds, but they were kept in the kennel and not allowed in the house. I did secretly go to pet them sometimes.”

  “Would you like a pet?”

  Toby halted, his eyes widening. “You mean…one of my own?”

  “Well, yes. A dog or cat, whatever you like. Although perhaps not a donkey,” Severin added hastily. “One is quite enough for the stables.”

  Toby stared at him, and Severin felt a jolt of alarm at the shimmer in the boy’s eyes.

  “Oh, Your Grace…I mean, Knighton,” he said in a quivering voice. “Thank you. That would be the nicest present anyone ever gave me.”

  “It’s nothing,” Severin said brusquely. “We’ll go to the pet shop this week.”

  “Wait until I tell Eleanor and Fancy!” Toby cried.

  Wild joy shone in his eyes, and he craned his neck, looking for their female companions. His brow furrowed. “Knighton, what is that…?”

  Severin swung his gaze alertly to Fancy and Eleanor. The pair had almost reached a building that looked to be in the midst of renovation, scaffolding obscuring the façade. He stared at the roof, seeing something on its edge—a large sack, teetering, about to fall.

  Straight into Fancy’s path.

  An icy blade knifed his heart. He sprinted toward her, shouting, “Fancy, watch out!”

  He reached her and Eleanor, glimpsed their surprised faces as he shoved them out of harm’s way. Seconds later, a sound exploded behind them, the ground vibrating beneath his feet. Whirling, he saw plumes of dust rising from the toppled bag, its innards of smashed bricks spilling out where Fancy and Eleanor had been standing moments ago.

  Breathing harshly, he saw his wife’s stricken expression.

  She could have been taken from me. Cold sweat prickled over his skin, the scar by his heart burning.

  “Good ’eavens,” Fancy said shakily, her arm around Eleanor. “What ’appened?”

  Her voice jerked Severin out of his momentary daze. Locking his demons back in the cage where they belonged, he directed his gaze to the roof. No movement, no one up there that he could see. How had a bag of bricks plummeted from there?

  Had this been an accident…or something more sinister?

  “I don’t know,” he said tersely. “But I am going to find out.”

  26

  The morning after next, Fancy stood by Bea’s side as she exchanged marriage vows with Mr. Murray. Flowers festooned the drawing room of his townhouse, swaths of white gauze adding to the romantic ambience. Mr. Murray’s groomsman was his older brother Viscount Carlisle, a rugged Scotsman who looked on with approval as the vicar conducted the special license ceremony. A solemn stillness fell as the lovers repeated the words that would bind them for life.

  Fancy became a bit teary-eyed as Bea, resplendent in a pale blue wedding dress trimmed with seed pearls, promised to have and to hold Mr. Murray through all the travails and blessings of a lifetime. The way Mr. Murray gazed back at his bride, his hazel eyes lit with adoration, made Fancy’s chest ache with joy and longing.

  She sneaked a peek at her husband. Chairs had been set in rows to accommodate the couple’s closest friends and family, and Knight sat near the back of the room. He looked handsome and distinguished in his charcoal cutaway coat, silver brocade waistcoat, and silver cravat. As usual, his expression was impassive, but when his eyes met hers, the smoldering intensity in those smoky depths made her heart thump with hope.

  While her own marriage hadn’t started as a love match, she felt in her bones that, day by day, things were changing. Knight was sharing more of himself with her and showing through his actions that he cared for her. Since the accident, he’d assigned a coterie of guards to accompany her wherever she went. Although she’d protested that the bag of bricks had probably fallen by accident, Knight had held firm.

  “I’m not taking any chances with your safety,” he’d stated. “You are too important.”

  All arguments had vanished from her brain, replaced by wild joy. Not only did he appreciate her, now she had become important to him. It was definitely a step in the right direction.

  Yesterday, when she’d come to help Bea with the last-minute preparations for the ceremony, she’d giddily shared what Knight had said. Frowning, Bea had wanted to know more about the accident itself. Fancy hadn’t wanted to worry Bea before her wedding day, but the other had insisted on knowing all the details.

  “It was likely an accident,” Fancy said reassuringly.

  “I agree with Knighton.” Concern creased Bea’s forehead. “You mustn’t take any chances, especially given that note your father found.”

  “That note was from twenty-two years ago,” Fancy replied. “’Ow…how would anyone know that I was that babe? Or that the babe had survived? The bricks were just an unlucky mishap.”

  “I wish Wick and I didn’t have to go back to Staffordshire straightaway,” Bea fretted. “But now that I’m selling my estate to Wick and his partners, I have to find a new property for my tenants—”

&n
bsp; “Of course you must attend to your tenants. I have Knight to look after me. Not that I need looking after,” Fancy had added.

  Luckily, she’d managed to convince Bea that there was no need to change her travel plans. Fancy would never forgive herself if Bea missed out on her wedding trip. Bea had waited so long to find her prince, and she deserved to enjoy every moment of her long-awaited happily ever after.

  “With this ring, I thee wed.” Mr. Murray’s deep voice rang clearly through the room. “With my body, I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods, I thee endow. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

  Fancy’s heart sighed as he slid a gold band on Bea’s finger, and then Bea repeated the vows, her lavender eyes glowing as she presented him with his matching ring. The vicar proclaimed the couple man and wife, declaring, “Those whom God has joined, let no one tear asunder. You may now kiss the bride.”

  Mr. Murray bent his head and kissed his new wife with enough gusto to elicit giggles from the ladies and clearing of throats from the gentlemen in the audience. Even as Fancy’s lips twitched, longing pierced her heart.

  Will Knight one day want to kiss me? she thought with painful yearning.

  Given all the other intimacies they shared, it was strange that a simple kiss remained forbidden. More and more, she found herself tempted to kiss him, yet pride and fear stopped her. Knowing what a kiss meant to Knight, that it was a pledge of his love, she needed him to bestow it upon her. Only then would she know that Imogen’s spell was broken. Only then would she have her faerie tale ending. For only then would she know that she truly had her husband’s heart.

  With the official part of the ceremony concluded, Fancy shelved her thoughts and was the first to congratulate her best friend. Giving Bea back her bouquet of roses and lilies, she whispered, “You’re going to be so happy!”

  “I know,” Bea whispered back. “Now we both have our faerie tale endings.”

  After a bit of mingling, it was time for the wedding breakfast. To accommodate all the guests, doors had been folded back between the dining and drawing rooms, and tables had been set up throughout.

  “I hope you don’t mind being at a different table,” Bea said.

  “Not at all,” Fancy assured her. “Your table is for family, after all.”

  “You are family to me, dear. But I had to find a way to accommodate Wick’s kin,”—Bea lowered her voice—“and shield the rest of the guests from his mama. Complaining is the dowager’s favorite hobby; Violet and I will have our hands full.”

  Fancy had met Violet, Viscount Carlisle’s wife, earlier. The vivacious brunette had been friendly, a sparkle of mischief in her caramel-colored eyes, and Fancy was glad that Bea had an ally in dealing with her new mama-in-law.

  “Anyway, I’ve put you with those friends I told you about, Wick’s business partners and their wives,” Bea went on. “You’ll like them. And you can trust them with anything.”

  On that rather enigmatic note, Bea had to leave to lead the guests in. Fancy arrived at her assigned table with Knight and found Bea’s friends waiting for her.

  Introductions were made, and they all took their seats. Normally, Fancy would be intimidated by meeting so many strangers, especially women as stunning as petite, raven-haired Tessa Kent and voluptuous, redheaded Gabriella Garrity and their handsome husbands, who were Mr. Murray’s partners at Great London National Railway. Bea had told Fancy that the Kents and Garritys had assisted her during her recent ordeals, and gratitude eased Fancy’s nervousness.

  As it turned out, Knight was acquainted with them.

  “Well met, Knight,” Harry Kent said. “Been some time, hasn’t it?”

  Mr. Kent had unruly dark hair and boyishly handsome features. Although he had the lean build of an athlete, his wire-rimmed spectacles gave him a scholarly air, which made sense since he was apparently a scientist and in charge of technological development at GLNR.

  “It’s Your Grace now,” his wife reminded him.

  According to Bea, Tessa Kent was a force to be reckoned with in the London underworld. Just as Knight was known as the Duke of Silk for the power he wielded in Spitalfields, Tessa was the Duchess of Covent Garden for the territory she oversaw. Although one wouldn’t think it looking at the elfin lady with wide jade eyes, her waifish figure clad in a blush muslin dress trimmed with pink ribbon, she purportedly kept the peace with an iron fist. She had a special dislike of brutes who tried to abuse the prostitutes and children under her protection.

  “Right, sprite. Almost forgot about the new title,” her husband said good-naturedly. “Welcome, Your Graces.”

  “Knighton will suffice,” Knight muttered.

  “Bea has told us ever so much about you, Your Grace.” Gabriella Garrity, who was sitting next to Mrs. Kent, addressed Fancy. Framed by fiery upswept curls, Mrs. Garrity’s face was sweetly rounded, and her guileless eyes, which matched her sky-blue taffeta gown, emanated genuine niceness. “Your gown is ravishing. The color reminds me of sunshine.”

  Using silk of a pale golden color, Madame Rousseau had created a masterpiece with a corsage à la grecque, an elongated, nipped-in bodice, and full, flowy skirts. When Fancy had first tried it on, she’d felt like a princess.

  “I like your gown as well,” she said truthfully. “Please call me Fancy.”

  “And I’m Gabby,” Mrs. Garrity said warmly. “Since our husbands are colleagues of a sort, I feel as if we know one another already.”

  Bea had mentioned that Adam Garrity was, like Knight, a powerful man with underclass roots. Mr. Garrity had made his fortune as a moneylender before taking the helm of GLNR. Sitting beside his wife, he was ice to Gabby’s fire, a ruthless quality to his pale, sharp features, slicked-back inky hair, and pitch-black eyes. Bea had described him as a cold and cunning man, except when it came to his lady.

  “Colleagues.” He sent his wife an amused look before addressing Knight. “Is that how you would describe it, Knighton?”

  “At a wedding breakfast and in polite company? Probably,” Knight said.

  “Anyway,” Gabby said with cheerful aplomb, “I’m so glad you’re sitting with us, Fancy. Bea mentioned that you were recently married in Gretna Green. That sounds ever so romantic, and I should love to hear about it!”

  As the delicious meal was served, along with flutes of champagne, Fancy found herself chatting easily with the group. Bea’s friends seemed interested in learning more about her life as the daughter of a travelling tinker. No one showed any sign of judgement—perhaps because they, too, came from unconventional backgrounds.

  Tessa shared proudly that she was the granddaughter of London’s most notorious cutthroat and described her toddler son as an even bigger terror. Mr. Kent pointed out that since she’d insisted on naming their boy Bartholomew after her grandfather, it should only be expected that the tot take after his namesake. Tessa had them all in stitches with her tales of how little Bart liked to ransack the pantry, waving his play sword with one hand and keeping up his listing nappy with the other.

  What was striking to Fancy was not only the kindness of the people at the table, but the passionate devotion she saw between the husbands and their wives. Impish Tessa obviously enjoyed teasing her husband, who bantered good-naturedly with her. Gabby was sweetness and light, her flame glowing brighter against the dark foil of her husband. When Adam Garrity looked at his wife, his black eyes had a proprietary gleam that sent tingles over Fancy’s skin.

  She couldn’t help but wonder how she and Knight appeared to the other couples. Her husband wasn’t a demonstrative man, and she knew he didn’t yet love her the way these men clearly loved their wives. At present, his emotions were masked by a neutral expression. Weddings, she realized, had a way of bringing love and relationships to the forefront of one’s mind. As she was yearning for Knight…was he thinking of Imogen?

  Her heart clenching, she finished her champagne, and a helpful footman refilled it.

  “I
hope I’m not being too forward, Fancy,” Gabby was saying, “but Bea told us about your recent accident. Or rather, she said she was afraid that it was not an accident. She asked us to look out for you while she and Mr. Murray return to Staffordshire, and we would like to help in any way we can.”

  Gabby’s husband uttered something under his breath that sounded like, “Here we go again.”

  “That’s very kind o’…of you,” Fancy said. “But unnecessary as it probably was a mishap.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” Tessa said matter-of-factly. “In my experience, bags of bricks don’t fall from rooftops and nearly smash people to smithereens without being nudged. What is your take on the situation, Knighton?”

  “I don’t like it,” Knight said flatly. “My men located the builder working on the house where the bricks fell. While he confirmed that he was using those bricks on the façade, he said there was no reason for that bag to be up on the roof.”

  “You didn’t tell me this,” Fancy said in surprise.

  “I only learned of it this morning.” Knight’s eyes softened as he looked at her. “I was going to tell you after the wedding, chérie; I didn’t want to ruin the day for you.”

  She was touched by his thoughtfulness and a bit intrigued by his openness with this group. Then again, he was amongst people who had come up in the same world as he had and who’d likely dealt with their fair share of murder and mayhem.

  Murder. She swallowed. Is someone truly out to ’urt me? Why?

  “Do you have any enemies, Fancy?” Tessa asked as if reading her mind.

  “Not that I, um, know of.”

  She cast an uncertain look at Knight, and he responded with a slight nod. Bea’s words rang in her head. You can trust them with anything. If Bea had faith in the Kents and Garritys, then surely Fancy could as well.

  Inhaling, she told her new friends about her father’s revelations regarding her past.