George was staring out the window, his face ashen. “You bloody, damned—”
“I would take great care just now if I were you, Lord Rathmoor.” Max’s voice was pure ice. “A choice is before you. You and I can go out there and announce with great pride the part your family has played in saving a possible heir to the dukedom. We can have Bonnaud out of gaol before they even get wind that he’s there, simply by your telling the authorities that you were mistaken about the horse. Your miserable part in his arrest can all be swept under the rug in a heartbeat. Or . . .”
When he paused for effect, George faced him, his features drawn. “Or?”
“I can go out there and make you sound like the devil incarnate.” Max’s eyes glittered at him. “You might still succeed in getting Bonnaud hanged, though I wouldn’t count on it—given my connections and the competent barrister I will hire for his defense. But it will be a hollow victory when those jackals out there get done vilifying you in the newspaper.”
George was seething, but he had obviously begun to realize that this wouldn’t end the way he’d planned.
Max glanced at Lisette, his eyes softening. “Either way, I mean to marry Miss Bonnaud.” He shifted his gaze to George. “So you can either be a friend to me and my future relations, who also happen to be your relations. Or you can be an enemy. Simple as that.” He walked to the window and glanced out as the noise rose in the streets. “But I’d make your decision soon. The crowd grows restless.”
For half a moment, it looked as if George might resist. Then he bit out, “You give me no choice, Your Grace.”
“None,” Max said. “How clever of you to realize it.”
George glared at her. “You really got your hooks into him, didn’t you, Lisette? You must have learned from your whore of a mother exactly how to—”
“One more thing,” Max ground out as he turned from the window. “If you ever again speak of my wife or her mother in anything but the most respectful tones, I will eviscerate you.” Striding toward George, Max went in for the kill with a ruthlessness that made her proud. “You will be blackballed from every club, you will be unable to get loans, you will find that my influence stretches into places you didn’t even dream existed.” He halted to loom over George like an avenging angel. “Is that perfectly understood, sir?”
George blinked, clearly taken aback by the force of the duke’s rage. He had the good sense to bob his head in assent.
A smile of triumph crossed Max’s lips. “Excellent.” He gestured to the door. “Now, if you don’t mind stepping into the hall with Mr. Manton, I’d like a word alone with my fiancée before we announce to the press the ‘great friendship’ between our two families.”
Resentment flared in George’s face, but clearly he’d finally realized the depth of trouble he’d landed himself in.
George stalked out and Dom slid past her with a quick wink, closing the parlor door as he left.
She was alone with Max at last, but she felt suddenly awkward after what had passed between them this morning. Her heart was so full, and she didn’t want to get it wrong this time. Especially when he was so very much the Duke of Lyons just now, dressed in great splendor, with the full power of his title behind him after routing George.
Might as well begin with that. “Thank you, Max, for saving Tristan. For bringing him back to us.” Tears filled her eyes. “You don’t know how much it means to me. I know you did it to hold to your promise to him, but—”
“I did it for you,” he said hoarsely. “All of it was for you.”
The way he was looking at her, with his heart in his eyes, made her knees go weak and her blood quicken.
He stepped closer. “I’m just glad that the plan actually worked.”
She smiled through the tears she was trying to hold back. “Your plans always work. It’s mine that don’t, remember?”
“I beg to differ. You found my cousin. I could never have found him without you.” He came even nearer. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. I wasn’t at home. I was out speaking to the family physician about Victor’s speculations. It appears he might have been right about my mother and my great-uncle, after all.”
“Oh, Max, I’m so sorry.”
“I’m not. It’s gratifying to have answers. To know that the family curse might not be a family curse after all.” He seized her hands, holding them against his heart. “To know that I can have a future now.”
“Yes, but that also means you don’t have to settle for marrying an illegitimate daughter of—”
He kissed her hard, then drew back to stare intently into her eyes. “Don’t ever call yourself that again. I don’t think of you that way. I never have.” He dropped his gaze to their linked hands. “I realize that this morning I . . . made you feel as if I might, and I have no excuse for that. I can only promise it will never happen again, and I beg you to forgive me for being an arrogant arse—”
This time she kissed him hard. “Don’t ever call yourself that again,” she echoed, then shot him a teasing smile. “I’m the only one allowed to call you that. Besides, sometimes I love that you’re an arrogant arse. Especially when you’re threatening dire harm to my horrible half brother who—”
This kiss was mutual, a fierce coming together full of heat and need and passion. When at last they parted, the great Duke of Lyons had entirely vanished and her own dear Max was gazing into her eyes.
“Does this mean you’ll marry me, dearling? Because I don’t think I can go on if you don’t. I love you, and the thought of spending my life without you is worse than the fear of going mad ever was.”
“You love me?” she said, hardly able to believe that he’d actually said the words.
“Of course I love you. I’m not mad, you know.” He smiled at his little joke, and the fact that he could joke about it at all warmed her heart. “How could I not love the woman who refused to marry me because I wouldn’t let her take care of me until the very end? The woman who nursed my cousin, whose face lights up whenever she gets to travel . . . who never, ever lies to me.”
She teared up.
He cupped her cheek. “Of course I love you. Do you think I bully viscounts every day?”
She blinked, then eyed him askance.
“All right, so perhaps I can be a bit overbearing at times.” He pulled her into his arms. “But that’s precisely why you should marry me. Who else but you will be able to keep me humble?”
She beamed at him. “I do believe you’re right. You need a wife who will remind you not to be so dukely all the time.” She reached up to deliberately set his cravat slightly askew. “In light of that, I accept your offer, mon coeur.”
“Thank God,” he said, breaking into a broad smile. He caught her mouth in a profoundly wonderful kiss that had her tingling to her toes and reminded her that he wasn’t always dukely.
When he was done, he offered her his arm. “Now we’d best get out there and announce it to the rest of the world.”
“What will you tell them about Victor?”
“That I’ve found a long-lost cousin, the son of my great-uncle. No one ever knew Uncle Nigel had a part in the kidnapping, so that shouldn’t be too scandalous.”
“No. Not too scandalous,” she agreed. As they walked toward the door, she added, “I suppose this means the end of any future for me as one of Dom’s ‘men.’ A duchess doing that sort of work would probably be very scandalous.”
“True. Still, think of it not so much as ending that future,” he said blithely, “but as changing employers. You’d be surprised how much organizing and investigation is part of running a dukedom. I could really use the help. So I will be very happy to have you be one of my men.” He cast her a side glance. “Except in the bedchamber, of course.”
And as she burst into laughter, they stepped through the doors and out into their future.
EPILOGUE
FOUR MONTHS AFTER his wedding, Maximilian was comfortably ensconced in his study, with Lisette
doing her usual flitting about being useful, when Victor walked in, dressed in what was clearly traveling attire.
“Well, I’m off to Edinburgh,” he said.
“Scotland? Whatever for?” Maximilian said.
“Didn’t your wife tell you?” Victor said with a quick glance at Lisette.
She colored. “I . . . um . . . was waiting for the right moment. I thought you weren’t leaving until tomorrow.”
“I thought so, too,” Victor said. “But Manton got a letter that made the matter more urgent, so—”
“What has Manton got to do with this?” Maximilian asked. When his wife and his cousin exchanged glances, he felt a sinking in the pit of his stomach. “Somebody had better tell me what’s going on right now.”
“Victor is joining the Duke’s Men,” Lisette said baldly.
Maximilian narrowed his gaze on his cousin. Manton’s Investigations had been dubbed “the Duke’s Men” after the newspapers had run the story about the successful search for “the duke’s long-lost cousin.” “Why? Don’t I offer you a sufficient allowance?”
Victor tensed. “It is more than sufficient. This has nothing to do with money. I don’t mean to be ungrateful, cousin, but—”
“Victor is accustomed to a more active sort of life,” Lisette put in. “He spent years in the army and then aiding various officials with sticky situations. He’s not used to sitting around doing nothing.”
“Then I’ll find him something to do.” Maximilian stared at the cousin he felt he was just starting to know. “I’m sure there’s something that needs doing around here.”
“You and Lisette and your massive staff have all of that well in hand.” Victor tugged at his cravat. “Besides, I’m not . . . well suited to all the balls and dinners and pretending I give a damn about who appeared at the theater wearing the wrong color of waistcoat. I can still barely believe I’m cousin to a duke, much less that anyone cares what sort of boots I wear.”
“It is a lot to take in all at once, I know.” Lisette shot Maximilian a veiled glance. “And we’ve hardly given you a chance to get used to it, throwing you into English society with little preparation.”
Maximilian had to bite his tongue. She’d managed to handle it quite well. Why couldn’t he? “But Scotland is so far.”
“Manton has a new case up there that promises to be lucrative,” Victor said. “But since he’s in the middle of a big case of his own, and Tristan has his hands full with several others, he suggested that I might like to take this one on. And I have . . . reasons of my own for wanting to have a go at it.”
“Like what?” Maximilian prodded.
Victor closed up. “Nothing to concern you.” Then, before Maximilian could react to that bald statement, Victor forced a smile. “Besides, it will give me a chance to think about . . . what I want to do with my future.”
When Maximilian let out a long sigh, Lisette said, “Max . . .”
“I know. You’re both right.” Maximilian rose from behind the desk to stare at his cousin. “You should be able to live as you please. And I realize that while I was raised in this life, you weren’t.” He forced a light tone into his voice that he didn’t feel. “Who’s wearing the wrong color of waistcoat actually interests me.”
“It does not,” Lisette said softly.
As usual, she always knew what he was feeling. At first, it had been a little disconcerting to have someone about who understood him so well, but that had long since passed, and now he found it rather exhilarating.
“All right, so that part of my life can be tedious,” he admitted. “But I find managing the estates for my future heirs very rewarding. I had hoped that in time you would regard it that way yourself, cousin, so that I could teach you to take over in case—”
“You’ll have plenty of heirs to take over for you, Max,” Victor said dryly. “Judging from how often the two of you ‘retire’ early, I’ll end up being fifteenth in line for the dukedom.”
“God forbid,” Lisette muttered. “I like children, but fourteen?”
“The point is,” Victor went on, “you’ll have at least one son, perhaps several, to pass the dukedom on to. You don’t need me. And I need something more than this.” He swept his hand to indicate his surroundings. “Or at least something different from this.”
“I understand,” Maximilian said, though he didn’t entirely. He was so utterly content with his life that he couldn’t imagine anyone else not being so. “And you won’t be up there forever, I suppose.”
“I hope not,” Victor retorted. “I understand it’s rather bleak.”
“Depends on the part of Scotland you’re in.” Maximilian smiled. “If you’re going to be staying in Edinburgh for any length of time, you can use my house there. I’ll send a letter off right now to have it opened up for you.”
“Thank you. That may prove useful.” Victor glanced at the clock. “Well, then, I’m off. My coach leaves in an hour or so.”
“Good luck,” Maximilian said.
“Be careful,” Lisette said, and pressed a kiss to Victor’s cheek.
“I’m always careful,” Victor drawled.
It was only after he was out the door that their interchange really registered with Maximilian. “Be careful? Is this a dangerous assignment?”
She gave him a bright smile. “Not too dangerous.”
“Lisette . . .” he said in a warning tone.
“I’m teasing you. As far as I know, there’s no danger involved. And even if there were, Victor is quite capable of taking care of himself.”
“Holy God,” Maximilian muttered as he dropped into his chair. “Remind me to throttle your brother the next time I see him.”
She laughed as she came over to stand beside the desk. “I swear, you and Dom are always threatening to throttle each other, yet I’ve never once seen either of you attempt it.”
“That’s only because we know you would blister our ears lecturing us afterward. But, to be fair, your brother has more cause to be angry with me than I with him.”
“He does, indeed. He will never forgive you for turning Manton’s Investigations into ‘the Duke’s Men.’ ”
“It’s not my fault that the newspapers came up with that,” Maximilian grumbled. “I merely said that I hired the three of you to find my cousin.”
“I know,” she murmured soothingly. “And when he isn’t being annoyed by it, he grudgingly acknowledges that business increased tenfold after that. So you did him a favor. Even if he hates to admit it.”
He glanced up at her. “You don’t mind it, do you?”
“I adore it. It keeps my brothers from being too full of themselves. Not to mention that it serves as a constant reminder of how much you love me.” She flashed him the soft smile that never failed to stir him. “How much you did for me—and them—that day.”
That sobered him. “I suspect we haven’t seen the last of Rathmoor. He truly hates the two of you, especially Bonnaud. And I’m not sure why.”
“Me neither, but he always has.” She took a deep breath, then said lightly, “Let’s not think about him, shall we? Besides, I have to go tell Cook that it will be just the two of us for dinner.” She grinned down at him. “You see? There are certain advantages to having Victor gone. For example, now that I need not consider his wishes for dinner, you can have whatever your heart desires. So tell me, my lord duke, what might that be?”
He dragged her onto his lap, taking her off guard. “I’ll tell you exactly what the duke desires, my wild rose. And it’s not dinner.”
“You want us to take another jaunt to France on your yacht?” she teased. “Or even Spain this time?”
“Much as I enjoyed the last trip we made, I had in mind something a bit closer to hand.” His eyes gleamed as he reached beneath her gown. “All Victor’s talk about my heirs has made me think we should get right to work on producing them.”
With a sensual smile, Lisette looped her arms about his neck. “I thought we’d already
been working rather hard at it.”
“You know me.” He gazed into the face of the woman who had changed his life, who had given him hope and passion and a future, and his heart flipped over in his chest. He lowered his mouth to hers. “A duke’s work is never done. Thank God.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
EUGÈNE VIDOCQ was a real person—and is widely considered to be the first private detective and the father of modern criminology, not to mention the founder of the Sûreté Nationale. When Scotland Yard was first established, Sir Robert Peel twice sent men to consult with Vidocq and observe his methods. Several details in my story come straight from accounts of his life. Vidocq really did start out as a criminal, and decided to switch sides after watching a cohort hanged. He really did have a staff of four clerks to keep up with his sixty thousand cards detailing all the characteristics of criminals he’d dealt with. He really did make a fortune by inventing tamperproof paper for banks. And he really did hire female agents!
There actually is a town named Gheel (now Geel) in Belgium that became famous in the early 1800s as a “colony for maniacs.” It had one of the most forward-thinking programs for dealing with the mentally ill of its time—the people of the town took care of them at a price, and in exchange, the mentally ill were housed with their caregivers and given useful work to do. Those patients who were harmless were allowed to roam the streets at will; those who grew violent were restrained or kept in irons until they could be rational again. A committee oversaw the program. Geel still places some patients with town inhabitants. How revolutionary!
Syphilis doesn’t always cause madness, but it can, and it can show up years after the illness seems to have “gone away.” It was often called “the great imitator” because of the varied paths the disease can take, which confused diagnosis in the days before we knew about bacterial infections. Although the link between syphilis and madness was only confirmed much later than the period depicted in my book, I figured that some doctors would have to have noticed the connection, even if they couldn’t yet prove it scientifically.
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