The Duke's Reluctant Bride

by Lauren Royal

  But she couldn’t. Because she still hadn’t quite scaled his wall. Because part of him was still holding back.

  Not here, though. Not now. He arranged the pearls on her body and leaned away. “Lovely,” he murmured.

  She mustered a weak smile. “I don’t think that’s the way they’re meant to be worn. Rather scandalous, don’t you think?”

  “At King Charles’s court? Not a soul would even take notice.” But he drew them off and finally dropped them on the night table, meeting her lips for a tender kiss.

  There was something about him tonight…something about the way he was kissing her, the way he was holding her close. Something. Something that made her feel, for the first time since the night he’d learned of his mother’s death, a vulnerability beneath his surface. That somewhere inside him lurked a lost little boy.

  Waiting to get hurt.

  So she was tender in return. Her arms held him to her, drawing him closer, closer, closer still.

  If only she could climb the last of that wall and finally make them one.

  SIXTY-SIX

  BEFORE LEAVING the next morning, Trick swept the strand of pearls off the night table. “Do you like these?

  “I love them.” Kendra’s smile lifted his heart. “But Trick…”

  “Aye?”

  “I mostly love them because we can sell them.”

  His fingers tightened around them. “No, leannan. They’re for you.”

  She grabbed them from his hands, cradling them against her. “They would feed the children for a decade, you said. No longer will you have to be a highwayman. I was going to beg you to stop anyway, Trick—I cannot stand the thought of you being hurt or caught in the act.” If her smile had lifted his heart, her words sent it soaring. “It’s bad of me, I know, but you’re much more important than the children. To me. The most important thing in my life.”

  She looked pained at that guilty admission, but not as pained as he felt inside. That she could put him above everything else…if only he hadn’t the obligations that kept him from doing the same.

  If only.

  “Do you see the gift that Charles has given us?” She held it up. “We no longer have to choose between your safety and the children’s welfare.” Looking half-wistful, half-thrilled, she brought the pearls to her lips. “I’ll sell them on our way out of London. And I have other ideas as well, for how we can help more children. This—this gift—will get us started.”

  Her enthusiasm was more than he could bear. Soon he could bring her to the docks, show her whichever of his ships were in port, tell her that he could support all the orphanages she wanted. Soon this would be over, and he vowed to himself he’d be honest with his wife for the rest of his life. He would never make another promise that would be this hard to keep.

  “You’re not selling them,” he told her, peeling her fingers from the pearls. He lifted the strand and slipped it over her head. “We’re going home and taking them with us. And I promise you, the children won’t starve.”

  BACK AT Amberley later that day, Trick barely took time to see their luggage brought in before readying himself to leave.

  Stunned, Kendra stood in their bedchamber watching him knot a fresh cravat. “We just got here.”

  “I have an errand I must see to,” he told her, not quite meeting her eyes.

  “An errand?” Although he was standing close, she felt as though he’d physically pulled away. “Are you going out to play the highwayman again? I told you—”

  “Nay. I’m done with that.”

  And he wasn’t wearing black—he’d dressed in a simple brown suit and white shirt. She should have noticed that. Her usually sharp powers of observation were dulled by disappointment.

  Just last night, she’d felt so very close to him. She’d thought that with everything they’d shared in Scotland and since, things would be different now. But no matter that his hair had been cut and his eyes were unshielded—he was hiding from her again.

  She backed away to sit on the gaudy red bed, her fingers going to the pearls around her neck. “If you won’t sell these and you won’t play the highwayman, where will we find the money for the children?”

  “I told you this morning,” he said, even more slowly than usual, “the children will have plenty to eat.”

  “How?” Her head swirled with confusion. “Did Charles give you more than the pearls, then?”

  “You could say that,” he said dryly and fell silent.

  He gazed at her for a long moment without saying anything more. Without moving. Without even blinking.

  Then determination lit his eyes and his jaw tensed with resolve. “It’s time that I told you the truth,” he said, moving closer. “I have plenty of money to fund the orphanage without resorting to robbery. You’ve no need to worry for the children, I promise. All right? Can you take my word for that?”

  The truth, he’d said. “I don’t understand.”

  He stepped yet closer. “When my father—the duke—died, I took the ships he’d used for smuggling and began importing with them instead. It’s all legitimate. I have nine ships now and a London warehouse filled with goods from across the globe that are sold all over the country. I can well afford to support the children and anything else your heart desires.”

  As though she’d been physically hit, Kendra found it hard to draw breath. “Then why did you tell me you needed to rob in order to fund the orphanage?”

  “I never said that, Kendra.”

  She thought back, frantically running through their conversations in her head. “But you didn’t correct me when I assumed it, either. A lie of omission is a lie, nonetheless.”

  All the gains she’d thought they’d made seemed to be slipping away. She struggled to keep a hint of hysteria from her voice. “This makes no sense. Why is it, then, that you played the highwayman? Why keep doing it when you knew it worried me, and my brothers had asked you to stop? For your own amusement, as you once said?”

  “Not for my amusement.” Taking both her hands, he drew her to stand before him, his gaze filled with silent apology. “I had reasons, good reasons, but…I’m sorry, leannan. There are things I cannot tell you.”

  “Why?”

  “I just cannot. You’ll have to trust me.” His knuckles skimmed her cheek. “Once you promised you’d trust me. Has that changed?”

  Her memory flashed on that day in the dungeon, and her cheeks heated. But that had been in Scotland, where they’d spent every day, almost every minute, together. Where he hadn’t kept secrets, so far as she could tell, and where they’d grown close and learned to be easy with each other.

  Yet literally the moment they’d stepped foot in Amberley, everything had gone back to the way it had been before they left. She’d thought she’d got through to him—that his wall was nearly down—but that clearly wasn’t the case. Not here.

  She wished they’d never come home.

  “I’m trying to trust you,” she told him. “But it’s very hard.”

  “It’s hard for me, too. You must believe that. Just let me finish what I must do to put this all behind us.”

  And with one kiss, so heartfelt it left her reeling, he was out the door.

  SIXTY-SEVEN

  IT HADN’T QUITE been a lie. Charles had given him more than the pearls—he’d given him orders not to tell his own wife what he was doing.

  Blasted obstinate man.

  Though Trick never thought to hear himself curse his king, he did so all the way to the cottage to fetch his papers.

  From there he traveled two villages over to meet the contact Charles had arranged for, a man going by the comical name of Zephaniah Pendregast and posing as a Roundhead. During the ride, Trick switched from railing at Charles to cursing himself.

  What an idiot he’d been to tell Kendra about his shipping company. He’d thought it would help to come clean with as much of the truth as he could, to relieve her mind where the children were concerned, at least. But he’d grave
ly miscalculated. He’d seen the doubt and confusion come into her eyes, and it had made him sick inside.

  He had no experience with being in love, and he was doing it all wrong.

  The foundations they’d built in Scotland were crumbling out from under him. He could only hope this mission would come to an end before those foundations eroded entirely. Hope there would still be enough left upon which they could rebuild trust.

  Hope his loyalty to the king wouldn’t cost him his future.

  Trick had sent a messenger before him, so Pendregast was waiting in back of the blacksmith’s shop where Charles’s men had arranged for his temporary employment. He suggested they walk in the fields behind the town’s High Street shops.

  “I hope it’s good news you bring,” Pendregast said, dropping his proper Puritan speech the moment they were out of earshot. He was tall and lean, dark haired with a long, hollowed-out face. The blows of hammer on anvil rang in the background as they paced together. “I’m stinking bored in this swiving establishment.”

  “It’s sorry I am for the delay. I was called out of the country. In any case”—Trick pulled the roll of papers from his surcoat—“I have your descriptions.”

  They pored over the pages together, Pendregast asking questions and Trick answering as well as he could remember.

  “So do you know these men?” Trick finally asked.

  “I’ve attended enough secret meetings to last a lifetime, I’ll warrant you that. This description here”—Pendregast stabbed a finger at one of Trick’s pages—“seems familiar. And one other. I’ll ask around, see what I can find. I’ll be in touch.”

  Trick walked him back to the smithy, where they shook hands. “I’ll be glad to have this behind me.”

  “No more than I,” Pendregast grated out through the fake smile he put on his face as he reentered the shop.

  SIXTY-EIGHT

  KNOWING HE’D have to leave Kendra home alone soon, Trick spent a tense couple of days tiptoeing around her, avoiding her hurt gaze while wracking his brain for a plausible explanation that wouldn’t cause even more pain and distrust. Mostly he kept out of the house, acquainting himself with his estate—which was a fair use of his time, since he now planned to be here more than he’d once thought.

  Life near the docks in London had rather lost its charm. His new plan was to manage the company through correspondence along with occasional jaunts to the City to check up on matters, bringing Kendra along with him. Perhaps Niall might become involved as well. Having discovered a family, Trick found himself entertaining grand ideas. Expanding his company to include ships based in Scotland was just the start.

  Both nights he delayed coming home until Kendra was in bed, when the darkness would save him from meeting her eyes. In those wee hours, he tried to tell her physically what he couldn’t say with words. And if there was a new uncertainty in her response, if she seemed to be holding something back, he could only remind himself that things would be better soon.

  Finally, a terse message arrived: Meet me seven a.m. Saturday at the home of John Garrick. Z.P.

  John Garrick? Trick wondered. Was he working for Charles, too? Well, at least this would give him a solid excuse to spend the weekend away. Kendra shouldn’t question a card party at Garrick’s—a house party her own brothers regularly attended. With any luck, she’d happily send him off.

  Evidently, however, luck wasn’t on his side.

  “So soon?” she asked when he found her going over menus in the kitchen. She turned to the cook. “Will you excuse me a moment, Mrs. Brown?”

  Dejection dulled her eyes as she led Trick to the butler’s pantry, then, finding it occupied by two maids polishing silver, all the way into the deserted two-story dining room. One foot tapping on the black-and-white checkered marble floor, she stared up at the plasterwork ceiling, studying the painted scenes there as though they might hold the answers to her problem.

  Her problem being him, of course.

  “We’ve been home less than a week,” she said.

  As she lowered her gaze to meet his, he shifted on his feet. “The card weekends have become tradition. It’s been months since the last one, ever since our wedding. The men have been impatient for my return.”

  She ran a fingertip along the carved and gilded mantel. The old duke had really outdone himself gussying up this chamber. “Trick, I’m…” He watched her draw a deep breath. “I feel like I’ve lost you since we returned home.”

  “I’m right here.” He forced a smile.

  “You’ve been out and about doing heaven knows what. Why can’t we spend some time together? Shouldn’t our marriage come before a card game?”

  “It’s already planned,” he said, wishing he could find a way to make her feel as loved and secure as she deserved. He wanted that more than he wanted to breathe.

  But first he had to complete the mission. He was so close. He’d already sent a message to King Charles saying the time had arrived to set their final plans into motion.

  Soon he would be free.

  The next morning found him leaving his lovely wife abed with a gentle kiss to her forehead. Wincing at her disappointed sigh, he tried to remember his duty.

  These counterfeiters were undermining the economy, threatening the newly restored monarchy. He owed this to his country; he’d made promises to his king.

  If a tinge of unease stayed lodged in his gut, he was determined to ignore it.

  An hour later, he arrived at Garrick’s estate to find Pendregast waiting along the road, he and his horse hidden behind a hedge that concealed them from the mansion.

  “What gives?” Trick asked, reining in Chaucer. “Why aren’t you inside?”

  “We cannot just walk in and make an arrest. We need some incriminating evidence first. Have you any ideas regarding how to gain entry?”

  “We might try knocking on the door.” Trick peeked through the hedge. “Is Garrick in on this or not? How many men has Charles roped into this operation?”

  “Just we two. Garrick is the suspect.”

  “John Garrick? A counterfeiter?” When Trick jerked upright at the thought, Chaucer danced beneath him. “Are you certain?”

  “Not entirely. He could be just another link in the chain. But that description you gave me that sounded familiar? I asked around, found the man, and followed him for two-and-a-half days, until finally he led me here. Was in and out in five minutes. Then I hid for a while, and another man arrived. Didn’t match any of your notes, but he was in and out in five minutes, too.”

  “So if Garrick isn’t doing it himself…”

  “I’m assuming he’s involved in the distribution, at the very least. But we need proof.”

  Trick’s mind reeled, remembering Garrick’s preachiness, his edginess, the way he always seemed to be snooping around. A closet Parliamentarian?

  Blast it. That could very well be. These were unpredictable times. Perhaps Trick had been foolhardy to come into the county and indiscriminately welcome his new neighbors—strangers—into his social circle. He might have brought Garrick and the others to the cottage someday. They might have seen his props.

  Blast it.

  “We need an excuse to get in,” Pendregast said. “He has too many servants to simply wait until he leaves. People are always around.”

  “I can gain us entry. I know him. And he owes me a meal.”

  “Pardon?”

  Trick patted his stomach. “Breakfast.”

  SIXTY-NINE

  “MRS. KENDRA? Were you not going to tell us about Clytie?”

  With a sigh, Kendra flipped the page in the wonderful book of lesser-known myths she’d discovered in Amberley’s two-story library. At least she’d thought it was wonderful last month when she found it. Today, reading from it, it didn’t seem so wonderful at all.

  Once she’d thought that attaining her dream, the orphanage, would be enough. But she’d been wrong. Working with the children was fulfilling, but it didn’t mend the hole in he
r heart that had opened when Trick left her this morning.

  Dragging her attention back to the children, she smiled at their rapt expressions.

  “Clytie loved the Sun God—”

  “Apollo?” Andrew asked.

  “Excellent memory,” she said, trying not to sound annoyed at the interruption. Every little thing seemed to annoy her these past few days. “But for this story we think of him as the Sun God. You see, he found nothing to love in Clytie, and so she pined away, sitting on the ground out-of-doors where she could watch him. And she would turn her face, following him with her eyes as he journeyed over the sky. And so gazing, she found herself changed into the sunflower, which ever turns towards the sun.”

  “Did he ever love her?” a chestnut-haired girl asked.

  Kendra met her big brown eyes. “I’m afraid not.” She sighed. “Clytie loved him with all her heart, but he could never return her feelings.”

  Just like Trick. Her feelings for him had grown, but she feared his had not. The lies had started all over again, and so had the abrupt disappearances. How could any fellow love a girl and treat her this way?

  Was she destined, like Clytie, to follow him with her eyes all her life? Never quite fulfilled, never truly possessing his love?

  “Mrs. Kendra?”

  She snapped the book shut. No use mooning about for these couple of days he’d be gone. He’d asked her to trust him, and she would do just that until she could confront him in person.

  They’d come too far for her to let their marriage go without a fight.

  Susanna wandered over to tug on her skirt. “Are we not going to finish the lesson?”

  “Tomorrow, maybe.” Feeling a shade more hopeful, she smiled. “For now, let’s play blindman’s buff.”

  SEVENTY

  “LORD GARRICK is not yet awake,” a stiff-necked butler told Trick.

  “Well, then, rouse him.” Without waiting to be invited, Trick stepped into the sprawling, dark manor house and motioned Pendregast to follow. “Tell him the Duke of Amberley is here to collect on a debt.”