The Undercover Duke

by Michaels, Jess

  She thought for a moment of the accusations that had been made about him being the traitor. She’d been so focused on her father, she hadn’t let herself consider the other man.

  Now she couldn’t stop thinking of it.

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Boyd said, ducking into the kitchen and shutting the door behind him, though he had not been invited to do either.

  She wiped her shaking hands along the front of her apron and tried to gather her composure. “You almost are. I have not seen you in two years, Boyd. What are you doing here?”

  He smiled. Once, what seemed like a lifetime ago, she recalled being taken with that smile. Now she felt uncomfortable with it turned on her.

  “I cannot come to call on an old friend?” he asked.

  She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “We were never friends, Boyd.”

  That smile broadened, became a little lewd as his gaze flicked over her. “No. I suppose we weren’t. We were much, much more.”

  “If you have come here for that, you will be sadly disappointed,” she snapped as she folded her arms across her chest like a shield. “I know the truth about you now, Boyd.”

  He arched a brow. “Do you now?”

  She realized in that moment that there was a double meaning to that statement. She’d meant it as a reminder that she now knew he had a family, a wife, that his advances were self-serving and had no future.

  But she also knew about the suspicions that surrounded him. If true, she knew he was a traitor. A murderer. A person who had stolen her father and nearly killed the man she loved.

  She lifted her chin. “I know about your family,” she said. “Do you have other secrets?”

  “As if you don’t.” The smile turned to a smirk, and he looked around her kitchen. “You are just like your father with all your weeds and potions.”

  She stiffened. “Yes, you knew my father well,” she said, carefully testing the waters further. “If anyone was a friend to you in this house, it was him.”

  “Once,” he said, the tone curt and short.

  She tilted her head. “It is harder to be friends with a dead man, I suppose. And one whose daughter you seduced.”

  “Is that the story you tell yourself?” Boyd asked, facing her again. “That you were the sweet innocent who was taken in by a dark and evil man? You batted your eyelashes at me aplenty, my dear. Don’t mistake the messages you sent.”

  “Why are you here?” she pushed out past clenched teeth. “I don’t think we have anything to say to each other.”

  He didn’t move, just remained in the middle of the kitchen, positioned between herself and both the door to the outside and the one to the rest of her house. Positioned between her and safety, she realized now with a creeping sense of discomfort and dread.

  “You’ve taken up with the Duke of Willowby, I hear,” he drawled. “Become his whore, but a whore he takes to proper parties, so that is something.”

  She froze and met his eyes carefully. There was something so feral in them. So dangerous, and in that awful moment she knew that all of Lucas’s hunches about this man were correct. That he was the person who had nearly killed him. That he’d been a traitor and a vile betrayer to everyone who trusted him.

  And she also knew, in a flash of heartbreak, that her father was likely also guilty. There was no mistaking their connection, especially since Boyd was here. Menacing and cold and dangerous.

  “He was injured,” she said, treading lightly. “I was asked to help and did so.”

  “There’s a bit more to it than that,” he said, that wicked smile returning to his lips. “And who can blame him? I know the charms you possess. I was the first one to sample them. Do you think I should tell him about that when he comes to rescue you? Or did you already confess it all when you gave yourself to him?”

  She caught her breath. His words were coarse and crude, but they were also terrifying. Rescue her. That meant she was under threat. And so was Lucas.

  She shook her head. “You can tell him anything you like, I suppose,” she said softly, trying desperately to measure her tone. “I mean nothing to him. As you said, I was just his whore.”

  “So you think he wouldn’t come for you if you were in danger?” he asked with a laugh. He reached into his pocket and slowly withdrew a small pistol. He pointed it squarely at her. “As you are in danger now.”

  She sucked for air, but couldn’t seem to draw in enough as she stared at the weapon pointed at her. This man had killed before, in cold blood, and there was no reason to believe that he wouldn’t do the same to her. One twitch of his finger and she would never again smell the flowers in her garden or walk in the hills around her home. She would never see Lucas again or feel his touch or be able to tell him that she loved him.

  Grief welled up in her for all she would lose alongside her life.

  “Steady now,” he said. “No need to get ahead of yourself, my dear. You are a means to an end. A lovely piece of cheese for a rat or two.”

  She shook her head. At the very least she could try to save Lucas in this. “I’m telling you, he won’t come for me. I don’t mean enough.”

  “Is that why he put a guard on your house? Because you’re meaningless?”

  She blinked. “A-a guard?” she repeated.

  “You didn’t know?” he asked. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I took care of the lad myself. What’s one more dead spy now?”

  Her stomach turned, but she forced herself to remain calm. “You are just trying to frighten me,” she whispered.

  “I hope it’s working, for you should be frightened. For yourself. And for him. Because you’re wrong about his feelings, I think,” he said with a chuckle. “My people tell me that he cares for you. And even if he doesn’t, the man wouldn’t let a lover die. He lets his heart get ahead of his head that way. Besides, if he doesn’t come, the other one will. And that would be as good a catch for this cat as Willowby.”

  “The other?” Diana repeated in confusion. “What other? Are you talking about Stalwood?”

  His smile widened, impossibly cruel and callous. “No. I’m talking about your father, Diana.”

  Her lips parted. This man was mad. “My father is dead,” she breathed.

  He shook his head slowly. “No, no, my dear. Dead is what he wanted you to believe. I assure you, George Oakford is very much alive and well. At least he will be until I lure him to me with your life as bait and then put a bullet through his lying brain.”

  Diana stared at him, unable to think or speak or breathe. The world began to spin. Her father, alive? After all these months of mourning and pain, was it possible? Her breath came short as she was overwhelmed by emotion, and then she did something she’d never done before in all her years.

  She fainted.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Lucas carefully slung himself down from the horse, ignoring the massive pain that shot through his leg and shoulder as he did so. He handed over the reins to one of Stalwood’s men and glanced up at the stylish townhouse before him. Inside he would have to face his superior and find out the truth about a man he’d considered a father.

  He was not looking forward to what he would hear. His instincts already knew what it would be.

  He climbed the long stairs and was greeted by Stalwood’s butler. By the serious expression on the man’s face and the way he took Lucas immediately down the hall, it was clear he was expected.

  The man opened the door. “The Duke of Willowby, sir,” he said into the room, then stepped aside for Lucas to enter. Stalwood was standing to the left at the window, looking out, his expression pensive.

  “I got your message,” Lucas said, “and came right away. I shudder to think of what you’ve found.”

  Stalwood turned and glanced at Lucas, then looked past him to the right side of the room with a pointed expression. Lucas followed his gaze and his heart lurched into his throat.

  A ghost
stood at the sideboard, drink in hand. It had to be a ghost—there was no other explanation, for it was George Oakford. The doctor was looking at Lucas, his expression hooded and unclear.

  “What the bloody hell?” Lucas gasped.

  Stalwood nodded to his servant. “That will be all, Jessup. No interruptions, no exceptions.”

  The door closed behind Lucas, but he continued to gape at Oakford. “Explain this,” he hissed, his mind turning to Diana. Her heart had been broken by the death of her father. And here he was, in the flesh, as if the past six months hadn’t happened.

  “He showed up here an hour ago,” Stalwood croaked. There was no doubt from his shaking voice that he was as shocked by this development as anyone. “It’s why I called you here.”

  Oakford set his drink down on the sideboard and stepped forward. “Willowby.”

  Lucas didn’t think, he didn’t plan, he just swung on the man. His fist connected with Oakford’s cheek and the doctor staggered back, catching himself on the sideboard edge.

  “How could you?” Lucas breathed as Stalwood rushed forward to catch his arm and stay his attack. Pain throbbed through his shoulder but he ignored it. “Do you know what Diana has gone through since you ‘died’?”

  Oakford straightened, his hand straying to the cheek that was already swelling. “That was the worst part of all this, I assure you,” he said.

  “You want an explanation,” Stalwood growled in Lucas’s ear. “For yourself, for her. Well, he says he has one, and I have not yet heard it. Let him speak.”

  “You’ll want to hear it,” Oakford said softly. “But you must let me say it all because I need your help. Diana needs your help.”

  At that, Lucas went still, all his anger fading to fear. “Diana? Why?”

  Oakford let out a sigh. “Let me begin at the beginning. I was always a pragmatic man, not prone to emotional displays.”

  “How is Diana in danger?” Lucas shouted.

  “Because I brought a demon into our home,” Oakford snapped back at last. “I exposed her to Boyd Caldwell, not thinking he would—would—”

  “I know what he did to her,” Lucas hissed in disgust. “And the consequences she had to face after, alone.”

  Oakford turned his head, and a flash of emotion crossed his face. “I failed her,” he admitted. “So many times. But the reason I did this was for her.”

  “You became a traitor to the crown for Diana?” Stalwood asked, his tone as cold as ice. “Oh, I have a hard time believing that, old friend.”

  “It’s true. When my wife died, I realized how little I knew to help her. She had a future, but I could provide nothing but an education. What would I leave her when I was dead? A tiny cottage here, another in the country? A garden full of worthless herbs? What kind of life was that for her? My worries grew deeper as she grew up, became a woman.”

  “Is that when Caldwell approached you?” Lucas asked, trying to focus on the details, even as fears for Diana plagued him.

  Oakford nodded. “He was injured during a case—that was how we crossed paths.”

  Lucas shivered. That explained the pattern he’d noticed in the attacks. Each man who had been replaced on his case had been injured. Oakford was the common element.

  “Caldwell felt…angry that it had happened, and convinced that the War Department had seen him as expendable. I’d never seen such rage in another person.” Oakford shuddered. “But when he said we could make money together, I listened. For her.”

  “Stop saying for her,” Lucas growled. “Your daughter would never want you to trade your country and your friends for her comfort. To pretend that you did this in her name is to sully all that she is.”

  Oakford bent his head, and for a moment all the energy seemed to drain from him. “You’re right, of course. I know it is my failing and no one else’s. Caldwell assured me we could trade on smaller secrets, that no one would have to get hurt. Once people started dying, once he hurt my daughter, I tried to get out, but he wouldn’t let me.”

  “He wouldn’t let you,” Stalwood repeated in disgust.”

  “It’s true!” Oakford’s tone was harsh with desperation. “He came to visit me in the country, threatening and demanding. He said if I didn’t help him, he’d expose me. I’d have lost everything and Diana would have been swept up in it. He told me there would be but one last betrayal. He knew there were arms being moved, he also had contacts that could sell them to France for Napoleon’s army. He told me that no one had to die for this act.”

  “Except all the men who would be shot thanks to the weapons!” Stalwood cried. “My God, George. For what? Money? If you’d been truly worried about Diana, you know I would have provided for her comfort and her future. You did this for your own selfishness.”

  Oakford flinched. “But then you showed up, Willowby,” he said after a moment where he seemed to be gathering himself. “You were seen, and Caldwell was enraged. He despised you already and he wanted you dead. I crept out, hoping to intercept you. When you climbed the wall, I-I shot you.”

  Lucas stepped backward and felt the reaction in the very leg this man had shot. “You shot me?” he whispered in disbelief.

  Oakford nodded. “I hoped that if I injured you, it would be enough for Caldwell. I fired the first shot so I could pretend I’d been injured, and then hit you. I assumed once you fell and saw me lying there, you would be distracted. I planned to bravely rouse myself, rush to your aid and get you out, and Caldwell would buy himself time and money by finishing the job.”

  “You nearly killed me,” Lucas said.

  “No, Caldwell nearly killed you,” Oakford corrected. “He guessed that there was something afoot and came down after me. He shot you in the shoulder. I knew that was a far more serious wound. I convinced him that I would finish you and that he should go back to his dealings. But he was scared then, paranoid, certain that anyone could be against him.”

  “He shot the others at the house,” Lucas whispered.

  “Yes,” Oakford said, and swallowed. “He killed them all. When I heard him start firing, I tried to get you up, get you moving. But I’d hit you wrong and you were conscious from the fall. Your leg was bleeding profusely. I tied off the wound and was about to go when Caldwell returned. He wanted you dead, Willowby, so I fought him.”

  Lucas folded his arms. “Excuse me if I do not thank you for that.”

  “You shouldn’t,” Oakford said. “Caldwell ran after we fought, and I gathered up all the information about his contacts and…and the money he had hidden for the exchange for the weapons.”

  Lucas drew back. “So it was still all about the bloody money.”

  Oakford shrugged. “Easy for you to say, one who has always had it. I needed it. And I knew that if Caldwell didn’t have it, he could do far less damage in the interim.”

  “Brave,” Stalwood said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

  Oakford’s nostrils flared slightly, but he continued, “Caldwell ran when he saw riders coming. Only I wasn’t certain that he wouldn’t turn back, turn on me. It was a split-second decision as the rest of the agents flooded in. I grabbed one of the servants, switched out clothes and personal items so that the body would look like mine.”

  “You mutilated that man’s body,” Stalwood said in horror. “And slithered off like a snake.”

  “You coward,” Lucas snapped. “You could have stopped this that very day if you’d only turned yourself in and told everyone the truth.”

  Oakford clenched his jaw. “I suppose I am a coward. I didn’t want to be swept up by this. To be transported or hanged. To have Diana sullied by what I’d done.”

  “So instead you devastated her?” Stalwood shook his head, and his expression was twisted with rage and disbelief. “You bastard.”

  “Why come back now?” Lucas asked. “You must know you won’t be set free just for turning yourself in or turning on Caldwell.”

  “Because of Diana,” Oa
kford said, stepping forward. “Caldwell knew I was alive—he’s been trying to find me for months. He wants the information and the money I stole. He’s desperate for it. I’ve been in hiding, but watching his every move. Only a few days ago, his eye turned elsewhere. Toward you, Willowby.”

  Lucas froze. That was exactly why he’d returned to Society, to draw the attention of the man who had nearly killed him. “He heard I was back in the ducal home,” he said. “Did he think I could identify him?”

  “He knew you were clever enough to put it all together,” Oakford said. “And because of the fact that Diana was with you, he may even believe I was helping you.”

  Lucas lunged forward. “You think he believes Diana is in on your scheme. That she is the key to finding you.”

  He nodded. “Yes. He might not think she knows I’m alive, but he must assume that she could be key in drawing me out. And if it is true that the two of you are…close…perhaps bringing you to him in the bargain.” Oakford moved to Lucas and caught his arm with both hands. “Please tell me that my daughter is safe in your home. Watched by Stalwood’s men when you are not with her.”

  Lucas glanced at Stalwood. “N-no,” he stammered as fear gripped him. “She was…she overheard us talking about our suspicions about you at the Abernathe party a few days ago. She left. Went back to your home here in London.”

  Stalwood sucked in a breath. “Did you not think that dangerous?”

  “I sent a guard to watch over her, but I had no idea it was as bad as this. I had no idea her father was alive. If the bastard wanted to get to me, he could come for me at any time. I was the bait, not her. Christ, we have to get to her, to move her someplace safer. Now!”

  All three men moved for the door together, and as they burst into the foyer, Stalwood’s butler stepped into their path. “Your Grace, you had a message forwarded from your home a quarter hour ago.”