Duke Of Deception (Wentworth Trilogy)

by Stephie Smith

  She climbed out of bed and reached for the bell, only to remember that she didn’t want Bridget to see her dressed thus, and that made her stamp her foot. She was weary enough without having to remove all the garments she’d donned the night before.

  Her plan hadn’t worked very well, evidently, for he didn’t seem the least bit frustrated by their little contest of wills. But if that was true, why had he come up with an idea for improving their sleeping arrangements? Surely he wasn’t concerned about her comfort. Perhaps he had suffered, after all.

  The thought gave her some satisfaction. It wasn’t enough to make up for the annoyance of having to undress and redress herself, but she resigned herself to the task.

  *****

  “So, you’re finally up,” Eleanor teased, closing the door to Lucy’s bedchamber behind her. “Your husband has been up for hours, and we’ve already had a pleasant chat. I don’t believe you’ve slept in this late for—my goodness, why are you dressed in that?” Eleanor stopped short and stared at Lucy, who was struggling with her dress tapes. “Are you taking that off or putting it on?”

  “Off. It’s a long story and one I’d rather not go into right now.” Lucy tugged at the thin ribbons. “I have the headache and my husband is waiting for me downstairs. Ooh! Help me get this blasted thing off!”

  “There is no reason to curse,” Eleanor said disapprovingly as she helped Lucy with the old gown. “It’s a new day and a new beginning for Stonecrest. Just think! Today you have your own money to begin the improvements you’ve planned for two long years, improvements your father had hoped to do. That thought surely must brighten your spirits.”

  Lucy immediately perked up, and a smile brightened her face. “You’re right, of course. It will be exciting to finally order the supplies. Will you come with me to the village, perhaps after breakfast?”

  Eleanor helped Lucy out of the old dress, and then slipped a cheerful morning gown from the wardrobe. She looked it over and pulled a face.

  “What?” Lucy asked, as she stepped out of the old pantaloons.

  “What, indeed,” Eleanor replied. She nodded down at the dangling pocket and Lucy burst into laughter.

  “Bridget must have overlooked it.”

  “Perhaps you should consider removing the pockets on all your gowns. Something tells me you have no intention of stopping this game with your horse.”

  With Lucy still chuckling, Eleanor set the dress aside and selected another, deciding that the lighthearted atmosphere presented a good opportunity to bring up the subject she’d come to discuss with her niece.

  “Lucy, dear, I have something to tell you.” Her gaze met Lucy’s in the dressing mirror and the smile dropped from Lucy’s face. So much for beginning on a lighthearted note.

  “Nothing’s wrong, darling. You needn’t look so concerned. I just wanted to tell you I am traveling to Yorkshire. I shall be gone for, oh, a fortnight or perhaps a month. In fact, I am packed and ready to leave.”

  “Surely you aren’t leaving to give us privacy. You of all people know it’s a marriage in name only.”

  “No, it’s not that,” Eleanor said. “I really do have some business to attend to in the north. I have put it off; I was uneasy leaving you alone. But now you have a husband to keep you company, and you will be so busy with Stonecrest you won’t even notice my absence.”

  She picked up the brush from Lucy’s table and began to gently brush the mussed tendrils that hung down Lucy’s back.

  “My goodness! Your hair is a mess of tangles!” Her gaze flew to the bed, scanning for any indication that something other than sleep had taken place there.

  “I tossed all night from the heat. It was his fault. He insisted on sleeping with me, saying the servants would talk. I had to protect myself with all those clothes,” Lucy finished sheepishly.

  Eleanor lips quirked with humor as she wondered how the captain had fared the night sleeping next to a bundled-up Lucy. Other than some strain about his eyes, he hadn’t shown any signs of weariness during their chat, but perhaps he was used to catching hours of sleep at odd times. “Well, he’s right, darling. The servants would talk. But tell me truthfully, were you protecting yourself from him or from you?”

  “Both,” Lucy admitted, twisting a strand of hair around her finger. “I don’t know why, but every time I’m around him, I lose sight of my purpose in this arrangement. His manner is persuasive, even though he infuriates me!”

  Eleanor laughed. “He’s a very attractive man, darling. A woman would have to be dead to be immune to his charms.” She tried to think of the proper way to word what she had to say. She had spoken with the captain at length that morning, trying to draw him out, but he was hiding something, and she had the uncanny feeling he was aware of her suspicions. Still, he gave his word that no harm would come to Lucy during Eleanor’s absence. In fact, he was coldly furious when she broached the subject, as though she was questioning his honor, but she wouldn’t let his manner deter her. Her decision was a difficult one, and it depended solely upon her trust in him to care for her niece. Ironic, considering the purpose of her travel.

  “His charm is one of the reasons you must be careful, Lucy. What I mean is, I think he is a man of principles—at least I hope he is—but that doesn’t mean everything is exactly as it seems. You should be careful to keep sight of your purpose, until I return from my trip, anyway. More importantly,” she added softly, “I think you should be careful to guard your heart.”

  Lucy looked up at Eleanor’s reflection in the mirror and their eyes met again. “You needn’t worry about that,” Lucy said, her voice as somber as her words. “His gallant offer to save my reputation doesn’t deceive me. I know he has another motivation for this marriage, and I’ll not have him adding my name to what must be a very long list of conquests. He’s much too charming, if you ask me. I’ve no choice but to guard my heart.”

  *****

  “Contest?” Lucy gave Derek a skeptical look, though she was glad he’d said something to pull her out of her reverie. If he meant to join her for breakfast every morning, he would need to wear the proper attire. How was she supposed to eat with him sitting there half-naked?

  “Where’s your cravat?” she snapped, jerking her gaze from the vee of his open shirt to his face, annoyed to find him choking back a laugh.

  “My, my, aren’t we a little testy this morning? Didn’t you sleep well, my love?” His eyes sparkled with amusement.

  “I slept just fine, thank you, but I’m not accustomed to taking breakfast with a half-dressed man.” Frowning at him, she snatched up an apple and began to expertly peel the skin away, forcing herself to concentrate on her task.

  “It never occurred to me that you’d be so flustered by something as innocuous as my throat, or believe me, I’d have ceased wearing cravats the moment we met. Now, what about my suggestion?”

  Lucy scoffed. “A contest to decide our sleeping arrangements? You must think me daft. Surely you would win at anything you propose.”

  “That’s why you should choose the contest and make all the rules. I’ll agree right now to abide by them.”

  “And?” she asked suspiciously. “What happens if you win?”

  “If I win, I want you to undress for me and sleep in my arms again, this time without your clothes,” he added, mischief in his voice.

  “Oh! I should have known. I would be a fool to go along with any scheme of yours. Why, you’re nothing but a rake who looks to his own pleasure.”

  “My dear lady, whether you admit it or not, we are man and wife. I see nothing wrong with wanting to be close to my wife.” Derek sat back in his chair and regarded her with wry humor. “You can choose your prize. Perhaps if you win, you’d prefer I sleep in Hades?”

  Lucy pursed her lips lest she smile. Yes, her husband was much too charming for his own good. Well, for her own good, anyway. “I would prefer it, but I can’t see any way to force you there, short of murder. If I win, I would have you sleep in another r
oom until the month is up.” Already her mind was racing as she tried to think of a contest she could win. She plopped a piece of apple into her mouth and considered the possibilities.

  “Done! We agree on the prizes. Now, pick the contest.”

  “You mean to say that whether I choose to match you at pistols or embroidery matters not? You will abide by my decision?”

  “Declaring a winner of an embroidery contest would be a matter of personal taste. Not that I mind. You might be surprised at my sewing talents. I can stitch together sailcloth with a seam so straight and smooth you’d think it had been done in a mantua-maker’s salon,” he said, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

  Wonderful, Lucy thought. There was probably nothing he couldn’t do, whereas in her case, there were few, if any, activities she was proficient enough in to have an even chance against him.

  He was undoubtedly a good shot, not that he would have to be to best her, and that was unfortunate. Target shooting was one of the few contests she could think of where he wouldn’t have a physical advantage. It was also a shame she had never learned to play cards, though something told her he would best her at that too.

  Her frustration mounted. She needed time to think about it. She would take Ahote for a long ride after she went into the village. Hatless and with the wind rushing against her face, she’d be able to make the right decision.

  Startled, she realized she knew the perfect contest.

  “When did you first go to sea?” she asked him indifferently.

  “When I was fourteen. Why?”

  “What did you do before that?”

  “Got into trouble, mostly. Again, why do you ask?”

  “No reason,” she replied with an innocent shrug. He’d been at sea for most of his life and it was unlikely, given the type of childhood he must have had, that the upbringing of his early years would have included familiarity with a stable of horses. In any event, he would have to be quite excellent to best her. Her father had loved horses and they spent much time racing one another.

  “I choose a horse race,” she said. “I’ll draw the route and you can look it over at your convenience. Agreed?”

  Seemingly unperturbed by her choice of contest, he took a big bite of the ham and eggs he’d heaped on his plate. A second later he grabbed his napkin and spat his mouthful of food into it. “What the devil! Are you trying to poison me?”

  Lucy gawked at him, taking in his shocked look, before she realized what had happened. A giggle rose in her throat and she chewed her lip. “You shouldn’t have taken such a large bite,” she said as she reached for a thin slice of yellow cheese to place on top of her slice of apple. “It’s always best to test the dishes first with a teeny, tiny taste. That way, if it’s horrible, you can spit it out, take a quick drink and be done with it.”

  Derek glowered at her. “What the devil are you talking about? If you think this is funny…”

  She did indeed think it was funny, wildly funny, and she could no longer stop the giggle. It quickly turned into choked laughter, though, when she realized he was actually angry, and she used every bit of willpower trying to smother her laughter with a frown. “You can’t possibly think I would do such a thing on purpose. Matilda isn’t a very good cook, that’s all. But she tries hard, really she does, and I think it only fair to let her practice with the menu.”

  “Practice? Practice?” Derek sputtered. “By God, she won’t be practicing on me, I can tell you that. I could cook better eggs than these, and so could my dog. What does she practice with? Horse manure?”

  “It isn’t necessary to be impolite.”

  “Isn’t it? When my bride is trying to poison me? I notice you didn’t try any of the fare,” he said, his eyes narrowing in suspicion at the display of fruits and cheeses on her plate.

  “I just told you it wasn’t intentional,” Lucy insisted. She picked up a small piece of egg and held it to her nose. “Matilda is one of the kindest girls in the world. She would never intentionally feed anyone, even a pirate, something that would…” With one whiff of the nauseating odor stemming from the cooked egg, Lucy looked away, covering her mouth.

  “What?” Derek placed his napkin carefully on the plate and leaned back in his chair, his arms folded across his chest.

  “The eggs are rotten. I’m sorry. Truly I am. Matilda just doesn’t know very much about cooking.”

  “May I ask why you have a cook who can’t cook?”

  Lucy offered a coy smile. Her arrangements were really none of his business.

  “I don’t suppose I should bother trying the biscuits?” Derek asked as he longingly eyed the basket of warm baked goods.

  “Well, that depends. How strong are your teeth?”

  Derek was ready to spout off again when he noticed the small tug at the corner of her mouth. Realizing the hilarity of the situation himself, he smiled and then chuckled. A moment later they were both laughing.

  He followed her example by taking an apple and then cutting a large slice of cheese. “What do you do with the food? The food you don’t eat?”

  “At first I tried to feed it to the animals, but they wouldn’t eat it,” Lucy said, laughing again. “Now I have Harry throw it out before the dishes are returned to the kitchen.”

  “Harry?”

  “My footman, driver, and whatever else he must be. Starting today, though, I shall be able to hire more help.”

  “Perhaps you should start with a new cook.”

  Lucy smiled. “Poor Matilda. She does so want to be a good cook.”

  “Yes, but a complete lack of talent can’t be argued with. And you won’t tell me why you have a cook who can’t cook?”

  “Well, it was my housekeeper, Mrs. Gray’s, suggestion. You see, my uncle had a rule that only the butler, cook and housekeeper could live in. Mrs. Gray was interviewing for a cook and she brought Matilda to me. Said her husband had left her while she was with child and the poor girl had nowhere to go. So naturally, I chose her over the others that applied. As it turned out, Matilda’s husband came back. He had only left to try to make a living, to bring back money, because his wife was expecting. I couldn’t bear to take the position away from Matilda, even though she moved back with her husband, so here we are.”

  Derek was oddly comforted that this young woman he had married felt such compassion for those in need. “Didn’t it occur to you to ask if she could cook?”

  “As a matter of fact it did, and Mrs. Gray assured me of it, mentioning in particular Matilda’s pies.”

  “I’ve had better-tasting pies from my little sister, and hers were made of mud!”

  Lucy looked up, eyes wide. “You have a sister? How old is she? Is she in America? What does she look like?”

  Derek smiled indulgently at her barrage of questions and helped himself to another chunk of cheese. “Gretchen is eight now, and she looks exactly as I suspect my mother looked at her age. Curly dark hair; huge, inquisitive, hazel eyes; and a little sassy mouth that’s capable of pouting the likes of which you can’t even begin to imagine.”

  “She sounds charming,” Lucy said wistfully. “Do you miss her?”

  “Yes, strangely enough, I do.”

  “Why strangely?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I never thought I would have such feelings for a sibling, especially one so young. But I do miss her, though I don’t miss her mud pies. I was forced to take an actual bite of one after Gretchen accused me of being insincere in my praise. I later learned the entire ‘breakfast’ was a scheme concocted by my brother Anthony, who wanted to see me eat mud.”

  Lucy’s expression softened during the storytelling, and by the time he finished she was studying him with what seemed to be approval.

  “I hope you’re not trying to distract me,” he said with a lazy smile. “I do accept the terms of the contest. Let’s say tomorrow afternoon, provided I get the map of the racing route in the morning. And in case you’re wondering, tonight I’ll sleep alone.”

 
; He’d have to sleep alone, he thought as he appreciated Lucy’s graceful exit, her skirts swishing alluringly. Otherwise, he’d be in no condition to race. He’d had two sleepless nights already. He wouldn’t tempt fate with a third.

  Not with so much at stake.

  Chapter 16

  By the time the race was upon them, Lucy regretted her decision. Derek was much too relaxed for a man who had little experience with horses. She watched from her window as he casually yet quite expertly adjusted the stirrups, and she wondered if she had misjudged him. But honestly, where would he learn about horses if he ran away to sea at such a young age?

  Still, the worry persisted; he was a complicated man. With each conversation, she learned something new about him, and it wasn’t just the words that threw her off balance, it was the way he said them. He’d been gentle and compassionate in the carriage before their wedding… though his conversation with Lord Aster during the wedding party had changed her mind about that. Then he had ceded defeat so easily when she thwarted his efforts in bed, when, despite her anger at him, she most likely would have given in had he continued his seduction. She’d had no right to even ask for a month to deepen their acquaintance; it was a duty of both husband and wife to consummate their marriage. She doubted any Englishman would have stuck to that bargain.

  Then at breakfast, his recounting of the story about his little sister… She saw him quite differently now. Of course he had a family, and of course, if he had young siblings, there would be such stories to relate, but until she watched him speak of his sister and brother, she had not given his family a thought. She could scarce think of anything else now. He had a family in America whom he loved very much. She saw that love on his face, the laughter lurking in his eyes as he spoke of his brother’s prank that forced him to eat mud. Who could dislike such a man?

  Finished with the buttoning of her long shirt, she pulled on a pair of old breeches that her stable boy, Colin, had given her, and tied back her hair with a wide ribbon before heading downstairs.