Duke and Duplicity (Rogues and Gentlemen Book 15)

by Emma V. Leech

  “The bastard had better be dead,” he said in an undertone, as Ranleigh handed him a much-needed drink.

  The words were cold and furious, and Ranleigh could only nod his complete agreement.

  No matter what happened, no matter what Mr Pelham found, they would stand by her. Archie would be safe.

  ***

  The next two weeks were passed in something of a dream-like state as far as Archie was concerned. A great weight had been lifted from her now that the people dearest to her knew everything of her life, but it didn’t stop the dark cloud of her past lingering on the horizon. Sometimes she felt as if she was holding her breath, aware that she could wake from this wonderful dream at any moment and be plunged back into the nightmare of real life.

  So, she lived every moment to the fullest. Will had sacked her, citing her inability to concentrate on anything and spending hours daydreaming about Ranleigh as his reason. He’d been joking, of course, and had told her she may return at any time if she so wished, but for now that she should take some time to herself. Anything else, they could discuss later.

  That Ranleigh hadn’t immediately told Will that his future wife would not be working for him under any circumstances only made her pride in him grow, even though she suspected it had been on the tip of his tongue to do so. He knew her well enough to know such decisions about her life would not be made by him, unless he wanted to suffer the consequences.

  With no job to go to, no worries about paying rent or affording to eat to consider, and Ranleigh at her side morning till night, her days were certainly not dull. She admitted this was a surprise to her, as they did not go out. In truth, they hardly left the sanctuary of the bedroom, not that she was complaining. Ranleigh was a generous lover and had a ridiculous sense of humour which made everything utterly joyful. There was no possible way to spend her time worrying about the future when he greeted every day he woke beside with the enthusiasm of an energetic puppy.

  To see the man she knew many believed to be sophisticated and charismatic—and even a little jaded—so obviously besotted with her only made the fantastical feel of the passing days seem more like some place out of time. Something she realised wasn’t so far from the truth when she stumbled over a rumpled scandal rag which one of the servants had clearly forgotten to remove from Ranleigh’s office. It was then she realised he’d been hiding them from her, so she would not be aware of the rumours that were rife about him, thanks to Lady Lydia Fanshaw’s poisonous tongue.

  Archie flung the newspaper into the flames at her feet and promised the bitch retribution at her earliest convenience.

  Ranleigh watched her from his seat beside the fireplace and held out his hand.

  “Come here,” he said, smiling and looking so thoroughly unperturbed she wanted to shake him.

  She folded her arms, staring at the flames with a mutinous expression.

  “Why aren’t you angry?” she demanded. “If I were you, I’d be bloody furious.”

  He just sighed and shrugged. “You’re quite angry enough for the both of us, love, and frankly, I don’t much care. I’m too happy to worry about it.”

  Archie shook her head at him. “I’ll make her pay for this,” she said, her voice full of ice and sharp edges.

  Ranleigh reached out and tugged at her coat until she relented and came to him. At his insistence, she sat on his lap and he gathered her close.

  “She’s already paying,” he said, sounding so bloody reasonable she could do nothing but roll her eyes at him. “She is,” he insisted. “She’s a bitter, angry young woman who will never be satisfied by life and, when she finally discovers who you are and that we are married, she’s going to be green with envy. She’s unhappy, love, and you should only pity her.”

  Archie huffed and folded her arms, unwilling to be placated and far from convinced. “You’re too kind for your own good,” she muttered. “Stop being so nice, you make me feel unworthy. Go and kick a kitten or something, take the shine off your halo.”

  Ranleigh cut her a look. “You know perfectly well that if my boot got within striking distance of a kitten with that in mind, you’d cut off my balls.”

  “Well, really, Ranleigh,” she said, looking incensed now. “A kitten! How could you?”

  She watched with amusement as he opened his mouth to remind her it had been her suggestion that he do so and thought better of it.

  “I apologise,” he said gravely. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  Archie snorted and buried her face in his cravat, overcome with laughter. “Ridiculous man.”

  They both looked up as a knock sounded at the door and Ranleigh called for whoever it was to enter.

  The butler stepped into the room, ignoring the fact that Ranleigh had a lady dressed in men’s clothes sitting in his lap. As, in fact, all the staff had, to Archie’s surprise, though Ranleigh had told her it would be so. He said they expected the quality to be eccentric, and more likely mad as badgers, and that they had been sorely disappointed in him to date. Archie’s arrival would have been some small relief to their aspirations, in his opinion.

  “There is a… person to see you, your grace,” the butler said, his precise annunciation leaving them both in no doubt that he did not approve of said person, nor his arrival at such a late hour. “I recommended he return at a reasonable hour, but he insisted that you would want to see him at once.”

  “Who?” Ranleigh demanded, and Archie felt the tension in him at once, even as her own heart kicked in his chest.

  “A Mr Samuel Pelham, your grace.”

  “Show him in at once,” Ranleigh said, as Archie scrambled to her feet.

  All at once she could not breathe, her lungs were tight, and she began to gasp for breath.

  “Archie. Archie!” She looked around to find Ranleigh staring at her. He took her hands, holding them both tight. “Look at me,” he commanded. “I won’t let anyone or anything hurt you. We’ll leave England if it comes to it. Travel the world. I don’t care what I must do. We’ll be together. I promise.”

  Archie nodded, though her heart felt like it was beating in her throat.

  “Do you trust me?” he asked, such concern in his eyes she knew he’d truly go to the ends of the earth to keep her safe, to keep her with him.

  She nodded, unable to say the words, but squeezing his fingers a little to underscore her meaning. He smiled, approving, and kept hold of one hand as the butler returned with Mr Pelham.

  On first sight she could well understand the butler’s indignation. The fellow was plastered in mud, his clothes were rumpled, and he looked as if he’d not slept in days. He certainly hadn’t shaved.

  “Your grace,” he said, bowing once to Ranleigh. “Forgive the late hour and my less than pristine appearance, but you did say you wished any news brought to you in person as soon as possible.”

  “I did, and I am grateful that you took me at my word,” Ranleigh said. “You look to have had a wearying journey. May I have anything brought to you? Have you eaten?”

  Pelham shook his head. “Perhaps afterwards, I thank you. To be honest the story was so extraordinary I… well, I think you’d best hear what I have to say first.”

  His eyes drifted to Archie with interest and she tightened her grip on Ranleigh’s hand.

  “Mrs Archibald?” he said, his tone enquiring.

  “Yes,” Archie replied, her voice a little unsteady as Ranleigh moved closer to her, his large presence reassuring, promising his support.

  “Mrs Archibald, you did not kill your husband.”

  For a moment Archie could not take in the meaning of his words and then when she could, it was so momentous, so….

  She swayed and Ranleigh caught her, guiding her to a seat before her knees could give out.

  In one sentence, the man had wiped out a burden of guilt that had been steadily suffocating her. No matter that she told herself he’d deserved it, no matter that she truly believed she’d had no choice, the guilt of having taken a
life had been hideous and had tainted her soul in ways she’d never allowed herself to acknowledge. It didn’t matter how often she reminded herself of the hatred she’d seen in his eyes, and the certainty that he would have killed her—perhaps not that day, but little by little, in increments as he beat the resistance to fight him from her—she had never been quite able to forgive herself.

  Yet, now….

  “But…,” she said, still unable to believe it. “B-But he was dead. He fell down and was s-so still, and the blood… there was so much blood….”

  Mr Pelham nodded, his expression sympathetic. “Head wounds often bleed prodigiously in my experience, but I can promise you. You did not kill your husband.”

  Archie gave a little laugh of stunned surprise, relief, and wonder all at once. She looked to Ranleigh, expecting him to share in her happiness and indeed found him smiling, but there was sorrow in his eyes.

  “I’m so relieved for you, love,” he said, squeezing her hand. “I can’t imagine what a weight this has lifted from you.”

  “There was no one looking for me. No hangman’s noose,” she said, still disbelieving. “All this time I’ve thought….” She let out a breath and then stilled, as she realised just why Ranleigh looked so stricken.

  She hadn’t killed her husband.

  “Oh, no,” she whispered.

  “It’s all right,” Ranleigh said, his eyes fierce with determination. “He’ll divorce you, by God, I’ll make sure he does. I’ve been wanting to have a few words with the man after all,” he added, a tone to his voice that Archie thought she never wanted to hear again, not from Ranleigh.

  “Ranleigh,” she said, moving forward to touch his face. “Oh, my love… I….”

  They both stilled as Mr Pelham gave a discreet cough. “Er… If I might be permitted to interrupt.”

  They turned and Ranleigh nodded, his face a mask. “Of course. Forgive us, Mr Pelham, as you can imagine your news has been rather….”

  Pelham just nodded, his green eyes full of understanding.

  “Which is why I think you ought to hear the rest, your grace. You see, Mrs Archibald’s husband is dead. He died last week.”

  Archie’s heart stuttered and she wondered if perhaps she might be due a heart attack, for surely that poor organ had suffered so many highs and lows and frights to her constitution for that to have been of little surprise. For a moment she wondered what Ranleigh had arranged with the man. Was he an assassin? Yet as she turned and looked at him in shock as the idea presented itself, she saw that Ranleigh seemed just as stupefied.

  “I beg pardon,” he said, his voice rather faint. “Would you mind…? Did you say…? Can you repeat that, please?”

  Mr Pelham smiled and scratched his head. “I understand your surprise, believe me. It’s a little….” He took a breath, clearing his throat and turning his hat in his hands, his expression one of consternation. “I went there expecting to find the man long dead, only to discover he was very much alive.”

  “B-But….” Archie stuttered, her head reeling as she tried to follow the conversation. “I don’t understand. You said—”

  “Wait a moment,” Ranleigh said, holding up a hand for silence. “I think we all need a drink before anything else is said, and then I want every word to be very clearly spoken,” he added, staring at Pelham. “With no possible misinterpretation.”

  They waited until Ranleigh had placed a glass in each of their hands and perched himself on the arm of Archie’s chair, apparently unwilling to be any further away from her than that, which suited her fine. She leaned into him as Ranleigh nodded at Pelham to continue.

  “Well,” he said, looking a little awkward. “Whilst I’m loath to confess such a thing—seeing as how you hired me for my discretion—I fear the man’s death might have been, in some way, my fault. I seem, at least, to have been the spark that lit the fuse.”

  Archie gaped at him, confused, and thinking he did look rather spark like with all that fiery hair, and then glanced at Ranleigh, whose eyebrows had hit his hairline.

  “Do continue, Mr Pelham. Believe me, you have a captive audience.”

  Pelham looked a little uncomfortable but nodded. “Well, on arriving at the address you’d supplied me, I made some enquiries for Mr Archibald, saying I was a cousin who was passing through, and hadn’t seen the fellow since I was a boy. I’d thought this was a safe enough avenue to pursue, as the fellow was long dead, and I expected to be given whatever gossip there might be to have about his demise.”

  Ranleigh nodded. “A reasonable enough assumption, in the circumstances.”

  Pelham looked little more reassured. “Quite,” he agreed. “Only I was informed by the landlord that Mr Archibald was a regular at The Bull and if I just waited, he’d be in presently. You can, I imagine, understand my predicament.”

  “I do,” Ranleigh replied.

  Mr Pelham took a fortifying sip of his drink. “Well, I decided the first thing to do was to ascertain that I had the correct Archibald, as for all I knew there was a brother or some such. So, I informed the landlord that I’d heard through the family the fellow had married a girl called Jennifer hereabouts, and I tell you now, the atmosphere that descended over the room was enough to make the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.”

  Archie shivered, Mr Pelham’s tone quite enough to unsettle her, never mind his words.

  “Why?” she asked, perplexed.

  She was a little surprised when the young man smiled at her and ran a hand through hair that glinted like a copper pan, polished to a shine. “Well, Mrs Archibald, it seems you were well liked by your neighbours. Indeed, I would say many of the people you left behind were more than a little fond of you, and when you disappeared, they grew concerned. In fact, when they saw your husband with his head all black and blue, after you not having been seen for some days, they began to fear for your safety.”

  Ranleigh turned to her and put an arm around her shoulders, smiling down at her. “This does not surprise me in the least,” he murmured.

  Archie leaned into him, too intrigued by what came next to respond to the compliment.

  “So, then everyone began to talk at once,” Pelham continued. “All about what a nasty piece of work the man was, with a foul temper and a good word for no one. About how he’s handy with his fists and could start a fight in an empty room, and how they all believed he’d killed his young wife and buried her somewhere on the farm he’d stolen from her by forcing her to marry him.”

  “Oh, my word.” Archie covered her mouth with her hand.

  “Your husband, of course, told everyone in no uncertain terms that you had run away,” Mr Pelham continued. “But though it appears few believed him, there was no proof that he’d done you any harm, so nothing could be done. By this time, the conversation was getting somewhat… heated,” he said, pausing to clear his throat. “And then the man himself comes thundering into the place, shouting the odds at this big fellow sitting at the bar, accusing him of letting pigs get into his fields.”

  “Mr Brasted,” Archie said, nodding as she visualised that big fellow. A ruddy faced, no nonsense sort, though good hearted in his own way. “Probably true, to be fair, the fellow’s fences were always in a shocking state. I’d had words with him myself on occasion.”

  Ranleigh, who looked like he was in no mood to be fair, gestured for Pelham to carry on.

  “Well, I’ll be honest, I made myself scarce. Your husband is… was, a large and ill-tempered fellow and I had no particular wish to talk my way out of a story where I was posing as his cousin, especially as it could lead back to you. So, I left while they were all shouting the odds and throwing accusations and went back to my lodgings. I thought to leave early the next morning and write to you, asking for further instructions.”

  “And?” Ranleigh said, exasperated as Pelham had paused to take a sip of his drink.

  “And the next thing I heard, he was dead,” the man explained, shrugging. “By all accounts an almigh
ty row began after I’d gone, with the locals accusing him of murdering Mrs Archibald. The fellow denied it and said a lot of things that were perhaps unwise, considering the incendiary atmosphere I’d seen when I left. Reading between the lines, I suspect that things got violent and someone pushed him. He fell back and hit his head on the corner of a table. Dead before he hit the floor, they reckon. The thing is, though, everyone is saying he tripped and fell, and that no once laid a hand on him. There’s not a soul who’ll say otherwise, and so there’s no one to blame.”

  Mr Pelham stared back at them and then smiled, looking unsure as to what kind of news he had delivered, but fervently hoping it was being well received. Both Archie and Ranleigh were so shocked that he might have been forgiven for being doubtful.

  “So,” he said, clearing his throat. “Mrs Archibald is indeed a widow, only perhaps rather more recently that she’d realised.”

  “You’re sure?” Ranleigh said, his voice hard. “Forgive me, Mr Pelham, but Mr Archibald has risen from the dead once already. I would like to be assured that he’ll stay there this time.”

  “Oh, he’ll stay there,” Pelham replied, rather more cheerful now it was clear Mr Archibald’s death was the blessing he’d perhaps suspected it to be. “I attended the funeral myself.”

  “Well,” Ranleigh said, and then fell quiet.

  Archie couldn’t think of a single thing to add to that, so she held her tongue. She had no idea what to think, what to believe, it all seemed too fantastical.

  “Mr Pelham,” Ranleigh said at length, recovering his power of speech somewhat earlier than Archie could manage. “You may send me your bill, and I believe I can assure you of a hefty bonus and a recommendation whenever you may have need of one. You certainly give value for money.”

  Pelham flushed a little but grinned and got to his feet, giving an elegant bow. “Thank you, your grace. I’m much obliged.”

  “Pleasure’s mine,” I assure you,” Ranleigh said, waving him off and still looking a little dazed.

  Archie watched the fellow leave, and then looked up as Ranleigh turned to face her.