Lucas cried out, and in that same instant, Oakford jumped in front of Caldwell. The bullet hit him instead of Lucas or Diana, and he staggered back as a circle of red spread across the shoulder of his white shirt. He dropped his gun as he fell, and it skittered toward Lucas.
He shoved Diana aside, swept it up and fired as Caldwell struggled to reload his pistol. His shot was true, hitting Caldwell between the eyes. He stood for a moment, a blank expression on his face, and then collapsed in a heap on the floor beside Oakford.
Diana screamed and Lucas turned toward her. He expected her to move to her injured father, but it was his arms she bounded into, her hands smoothing over him as she whispered endless, empty words about his health and his safety.
He pulled her close and kissed her, brief but powerful. Then he turned her toward her father. “He lied, Diana. He lied to protect you. Stalwood was coming all along, he knew it and so did I.”
She gasped and turned to her father, who was lying on the floor, pressing a hand into the hole in his shoulder as he watched them. He saw her expression soften, a bit of her faith in this man returned with the truth the two of them had hidden in order to save her life.
“He needs your help.”
She nodded and dropped to her knees beside him. He was already pressing a hand to his shoulder, and she tore a piece of fabric from his shirt to begin binding the wound as Lucas moved to ensure that Caldwell was indeed dead and unable to harm anyone further.
It was over. One traitor was dead. The other was now in the custody of the War Department, for Lucas had no intention of letting Oakford walk away when his actions had done so much damage.
Now there was just the fallout to handle, and the heartbreak that would flood Diana and put her in grief all over again.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Three Days Later
Diana paced the parlor, certain she would wear a hole in Lucas’s parlor carpet before this terrible day was through. She glanced at the clock on the mantel and sighed. He’d been gone far too long. It could not be good news that would come home with him.
The door opened in that moment, and she pivoted to watch as Lucas entered the room. His face was very serious and his eyes were locked on hers. Worried. Soothing. The same expression he’d had in the three days since her entire world had fallen down around her, everything she believed destroyed the moment her father had reappeared, alive and well.
“What was the decision?” she asked, her voice trembling.
Lucas came to her then, taking her hands in his as he searched her face like he could find peace there. She had no idea how that was possible, considering she felt none within herself.
“It was a long argument,” he said. “Stalwood and I took up in your father’s defense and presented the evidence that he had actually turned against Caldwell in the end. That he took that bullet in order to protect me. We left you out of it, of course, as we agreed upon.”
She pursed her lips. “Yes, you agreed upon that, you and Stalwood and my father. I still think I should have been there.” She turned away and paced to the window.
“You should have been,” he said softly. “This decision will affect no one more than you. But it is the only way we can protect you in some way from the truth of what your father did and why.”
Her hands shook as she faced him. “What was the panel’s decision in the end?”
“They considered his injury and his actions as a whole.” Lucas let out a long sigh. “And determined that he should not be hanged for treason.”
Diana’s legs nearly went out from under her. She leaned heavily on the window ledge as she stared at him in disbelief. “Truly? They won’t put him to death?”
“No,” he said. “They won’t. But he…he will be transported, Diana. As soon as his injury allows for travel, a week or two at most, he will be sent away. The panel felt he would at least be able to do some good amongst the prison population.”
She stared at him as numbness overcame her. Transported. Although it was better than death, the end result would be the same. She would never see her father again. Perhaps he would be allowed a letter to her from time to time, but the distance between them would be insurmountable.
“I see,” she said at last, the only thing she could think to say. “It is fair, I know.”
“Fair to him,” he corrected. “None of this is fair to you, Diana. You will be able to see him as much as you like in the time you have left. Stalwood and I demanded that be true. Stalwood will actually be monitoring him in his own home until the time is right.”
She nodded slowly. “Stalwood was a friend, for his part of the bargain. Were there any other censures?”
He shifted, and she knew there had been. “His lands have been seized. His property and funds now belong to the crown.”
She bent her head. “So I have nothing.”
“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I did not tell them about your daughter’s grave, but I did argue that you ought to be able to live in the home if you’d like. They agreed to lease the property to me, though it will still belong to the crown. You won’t lose the ability to visit Mirabelle there for as long as I’m alive.”
Her heart stuttered as she looked at him. “You did that for me?”
He nodded. “I would do anything to lessen the pain of this. Anything in my power.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, her love for him bubbling up in her. But she didn’t speak it. She had done so in the height of their terror a few days before, he had said the same. In the time since, she had stayed at his home, and the topic had not come up again.
She had to assume he had only said those words out of terror in that moment. Facing death, they had seemed to have less meaning to him. Now he had forgotten them.
And she could live with that. There was so much else she’d have to face now. Losing Lucas was just the worst of it.
“We can go there whenever you’d like,” he continued. “Just say the word.”
“You would take me home to the country?” she asked. “No, that would be too much. I ought not even stay with you anymore. I think my family has trespassed on your good graces long enough.”
He wrinkled his brow. “Take you home? This is your home, Diana.”
She stared at him in blank surprise. “Lucas.”
“It has been madness since you were taken. Madness for longer than that,” he said, and ran a hand through his hair. “I should have been clearer, but I didn’t want to overwhelm you when there was so much for you to handle already.”
She swallowed, but she could think of nothing to say but his name. “Lucas…”
He shook his head. “I love you, Diana.”
Those words hit her harder than a runaway phaeton, and everything in her wanted to lean into them and him and stay in his arms forever.
A more rational part tried to keep joy at bay. “You said that in a moment of great peril,” she began. “I would not be so cruel as to hold you to it.”
“I meant it, peril or not, Diana. I knew it before I said it that day. I knew it and I knew what I wanted.” He moved forward, and she found no strength to step away. He cupped her cheek and she shivered, for the feel of his skin on hers was heaven. “I love you and I want to marry you.”
If she hadn’t already been leaning against the window, she would have fallen over. “What?”
“You are everything I have ever wanted, everything I shall ever want.” He held her gaze steadily. “I have not ever felt for anyone even a shadow of what I feel when I touch you or see you or even merely hear your name. I could not live my life without you.”
“That would make me a duchess,” she said, dumbfounded.
He nodded. “Yes, it would. And a duchess with duties, for I have realized, thanks to you, that I cannot turn away from this life anymore. I have given up my position at the War Department, effective immediately. Though Stalwood did ask that I make myself available to review case files
from time to time. Something I would only do if you would be agreeable to such that.”
“Stop,” she breathed, her head spinning as she steadied herself on the back of the closest chair. “You are ahead of yourself with all these plans and questions. The fact of the matter is that I don’t belong here. Not in this world, in your life.”
He smiled, a crooked little expression that was wry and warm. “Oh, my darling, neither of us belong here, do we? But we belong together. I need you. I need you at my side. And I want to be there for you, as well.”
What he was offering was everything she’d ever wanted or desired. Everything she’d never dared to hope for. But there was still fear there. Fear and uncertainty.
“It wouldn’t be easy,” she whispered.
“Sometimes it wouldn’t be,” he conceded with a tilt of his head. “But I think we’ve both learned through bitter experience that is true of life in general. I bore a great weight on my shoulders, until you took some of it for me. I hope I did the same for you.”
She nodded. “You did. I never knew how much my secrets ate at me until I was able to speak them.”
“Then be my wife,” he whispered again. “Spend a lifetime with me where we’ll share not only our joys, but our pains. Where no one of us will bear the full weight of either. We’ll do it together. Be my partner in the truest sense. Be my heart and my love until there are no more sunrises for us. Please. Please don’t turn away from the happiness we could have. Love me and marry me.”
His face was close to hers now, his breath gentle on her lips. He slid his arms around her, and suddenly she was home. The most perfect home she had ever known or would ever know again. It was everything, and in that moment she knew she could not walk away from it. There had been too much loss in both their lives to accept another.
“I do love you, Lucas,” she said as she leaned up to brush her lips to his. “I do love you, and I will marry you.”
He said nothing, only pulled her closer and deepened the kiss. But she needed no words. She felt his joy and his relief in the way his mouth moved against hers. She felt the future laid out before them, far happier than the past.
Because they would be together, and that would always be enough.
Enjoy an exciting excerpt from
The Duke of Hearts,
out May 2018
Spring 1812
It could have been called a 1797 Club party, thanks to the number of friends Matthew Cornwallis, Duke of Tyndale, had in attendance. Dukes abounded, in seemingly every corner. Once upon a time, he would have enjoyed this moment when they were all together. It had become so rare over the years as his friends grew into their titles, their marriages, their responsibilities. But at present, it was not joy in Matthew’s heart as he watched them from a distance.
It was something far darker, far uglier. Something he did not wish to name. More than half of his friends were here with their wives. They spun around the dancefloor in pairs, eyes locked, hands inappropriately low, laughter echoing, cheeks filling with color thanks to whispered words.
They were all happy. He should have been happy for them. He was. And he wasn’t. Because he was standing on the outside now, looking in on a world he should have joined years ago. Except Angelica had died.
All he was left with were regrets.
Suddenly Robert Smithton, Duke of Roseford, slid up beside him. Wordlessly he handed Matthew a scotch and then lifted his own glass to clink it against Matthew’s.
“To the bachelors,” he said, staring out at the dance floor and their friends. “Those of us left, that is.”
Matthew shut his eyes. There were days when his grief still felt so raw, no matter how many years had passed since the death of his fiancée. Today was one of them, and Robert’s words were like a knife in his heart.
“Sorry,” Robert said softly.
Matthew’s eyes flew open and he stared at his friend. Robert was almost his polar opposite, a man driven by pleasure and nothing more. He didn’t allow deeper emotions, so he never experienced the pain that went with them.
But he was also a brilliant mind, a loyal friend and someone Matthew cared deeply for, regardless of his judgment of Robert’s decisions.
“I must look like hell if you’re apologizing to me,” Matthew croaked out before he took a sip of his drink.
The tension on Robert’s face bled away and he grinned, the rogue in full force at that moment. “I’m apologizing because I’m an ass,” he said. “But you know that. You’re always telling me much the same.”
Matthew drew in a deep breath as the pain faded a fraction. Leave it to Robert to do that. He did appreciate it.
“Well, you’re no more an ass than usual,” he said softly. “So I forgive you this once.”
Robert tipped his head. “Much obliged, Your Grace.”
Matthew sighed as his attention returned to the others. The music had faded now and they were joining up in little clusters, the women comparing gowns and smiling at their husbands. Every once in a while Ewan, Duke of Donburrow, brushed his hand over his wife Charlotte’s swollen pregnant belly, and a shadow of a smile crossed his normally serious face.
“It’s the end of an era,” Robert mused.
Matthew jolted from his own thoughts and nodded. “I suppose it is. They have all found their matches, leaving only a handful of us without such happiness. But it was bound to happen, wasn’t it? We’re of an age to do such things. Someone will be next.”
Robert snorted out a laugh of derision. “It won’t bloody well be me,” he said, and downed his entire drink in one slug.
Matthew laughed with him. “No, my assumption is that you will be last—you enjoy your life too much to surrender it willingly.”
For a brief moment, a shadow crossed Robert’s face. Matthew tilted his head at the sight of it, for it was an expression he’d never seen before on his old friend. Before he could press, Hugh Margolis, Duke of Brighthollow and another of their bachelor friends, approached.
Matthew’s concern shifted. In the past six months, he’d seen a change in Hugh. His hair had grown out, his cheeks were slashed with stubble more often than not. More than that, there was something deeply troubled in his dark gaze. Whenever he was asked about it, he waved the question off.
But tonight some of that trouble seemed faded. He grinned at his friends, back to the light and lively companion he’d always been. He even slung an arm around Robert. “And what are you two talking about so seriously, eh?”
Robert rolled his eyes. “How very romantic our friends have all become. And we were debating who would enter the snare of marriage next.” He winked at Matthew. “And we were discussing how miserable Tyndale is.”
Hugh’s smile fell and his expression gentled. “Are you very miserable, Tyndale?”
Matthew shook his head. It was a funny thing. Once you lost someone, it was like you turned to glass. Everyone else tiptoed around, trying not to upset or break anything. He was growing tired of it, in truth.
“It’s been three years,” he said softly. “I suppose Robert is right that I ought to be over the loss by now and not roaming around like the maudlin hero of a romantic novel.”
Robert shrugged. “In my experience, ladies trip over themselves for a maudlin hero. You must start using it to your advantage.”
Matthew couldn’t picture doing anything of the kind, but he played along for Robert’s sake. “And how do you suggest I do that?”
It was like he’d offered his friend a thousand pounds, Roseford’s eyes lit up so bright. He was practically bouncing as he said, “Let’s get out of this stuffy party and go somewhere fun.”
Hugh shook his head. “I shudder to think what you define as fun, my friend. Where exactly do you mean?”
Robert grinned wider. “The Donville Masquerade.”
Matthew stared at him, his mouth slightly agape. “The sex club,” he said with a shake of his head. God’s teeth, everyone knew a
bout the Donville Masquerade.
Robert drew back. “You limit yourself, my dear old friend. Not just a sex club. There’s drink, gaming and dancing, and yes, I think a night with a comely lady would do each of us good.”
“Christ,” Hugh said with a slight laugh. “You and your appetites.”
Robert wrinkled his brow. “And since when is indulging in pleasure such a terrible appetite? It can’t have been so long since you did the same.”
Hugh shifted. “Well…nine months,” he admitted.
Robert’s eyes went impossibly wide and his mouth twisted in horror. “No. That…can’t be true. Is that even possible? Matthew, tell him that he will turn into a monk if he doesn’t change his ways.”
The two men faced Matthew and now it was his cheeks that filled with color. “I doubt I’m the one to tell him such, considering how long it’s been for me.”
Robert drew back. “Longer than nine months?”
Matthew cleared his throat. “I’m not sure this is a proper topic—”
“Ten months?” Robert pressed. “A year?”
“Honestly, Roseford, you are—”
“More than a year?” Robert nearly recoiled into the crowd.
Matthew let out a long sigh. He knew his bulldog of a friend, and there was no way he’d let this go until he had uncovered the number. “Fine. Three and a half years.”
Robert stared, unspeaking. Even Hugh jerked his face toward Matthew like he’d declared he had decided to take over Spain. Matthew pursed his lips and forced himself to remain impassive beneath their horrified expressions.
“How are you both not…dead?” Robert said. “You are dead, for that sounds like living in a grave.”
“Roseford,” Hugh said, voice heavy with warning.
Robert waved him off. “It’s settled, we’re going to the Donville Masquerade tonight. I have a membership and you two will come as my guests. I shall brook no refusals.”
The Undercover Duke Page 24