Duke Of Deception (Wentworth Trilogy)

by Stephie Smith

  A sickening thought came to him. What if she took the herbs after hearing the rumor he was a slave runner? What if she couldn’t bear to have a child fathered by such a man? If that prompted her actions, then the babe’s death was his fault. He had fabricated a blackguard’s reputation and denied none of it to Lucy, and though he wasn’t happy that she so quickly believed him a slaver, he could hardly blame her.

  No, damn it. He was condemning her still by thinking these thoughts. She said she didn’t take the herbs, and he should believe her. He did believe her, about the miscarriage, anyway. So why was he so angry?

  An image of Stephen at Stonecrest, standing with Lucy, smiling at her, jolted into his mind.

  He was jealous of Stephen.

  Just putting the dishonorable feeling into words irritated the hell out of him. He’d known Stephen forever and didn’t doubt his honor. Still, a man didn’t “go mad” worrying about a friend’s wife, did he?

  Derek thought of the Grantham ball and remembered Stephen’s curt manner and insistence that Lady Louisa not be hurt by the masquerade, saying she had suffered quite enough. Perhaps Stephen simply liked Lucy.

  Perhaps he liked her too much.

  Derek fumbled in his pocket for the notes and drew them out, glancing first at Stephen’s and then Lucy’s. Lucy had blushed over Stephen’s card, but did that mean she was lying or only that she was embarrassed? He tried to think of an instance when she’d blushed while telling a lie, and he couldn’t because he couldn’t remember her ever telling a lie. It was always possible she’d lied to him and he just didn’t know it. He knew she blushed when she was embarrassed, though. But why would Stephen’s card embarrass her?

  A sense of foreboding engulfed him. Had Stephen tried to seduce her? He obviously liked her, and he’d always been a bit envious of Derek. The jealousy was understandable when they were in school—for some reason the other boys always glorified Derek’s reputation for delinquency—but it seemed to Derek that some of that jealousy still existed. Otherwise Stephen wouldn’t take such delight in pointing out every deviance from Derek’s plan, every unexpected problem that arose and required some kind of response or change.

  But could Stephen be jealous enough, or in love enough, to seduce Lucy, ensuring that he and Derek would be enemies forever? Derek dismissed the thought as ludicrous. Regardless of Stephen’s emotions, he wouldn’t be that stupid. Such a foolhardy act would have enormous social and, therefore, financial ramifications for Stephen and his sister Audrey.

  None of it made any sense, and Derek realized he could go on sifting through all the possibilities without any hope of ever knowing the truth. There was no way he could know what was supposition and what was reality, but he knew one thing for sure. If he didn’t return and give Lucy the chance to explain, he would never forgive himself.

  *****

  Lucy slowed Ahote’s pace when she saw another horse and rider approaching on the lane. When the rider’s face was recognizable, she stared in disbelief. What was he doing here, and why hadn’t he run into Derek along the way?

  “What a wonderful surprise!” Stephen called out with a friendly smile. He tipped his hat as he halted beside her.

  Lucy shaded her eyes to get a better look at him. “Lord Aster,” she replied coolly. She wouldn’t bother telling him she knew of his and Derek’s deceit. She wouldn’t waste her time.

  “Come now, it’s not Lord Aster again, is it?”

  “Are you coming from London?”

  “Yes. I was worried about you. I thought I’d better come round to check.”

  “It’s odd you didn’t pass Derek. He’s on his way to London now.”

  “Is that so?” Stephen asked mildly. “Well, it’s not so odd that we didn’t pass, I suppose. I stopped in Chelton to purchase a couple of items, and I fear I may have dawdled too long. He must have ridden through then.”

  Hmm. Stephen wasn’t surprised that Derek was back, nor did he seem the least bit unhappy to have missed him on the road. Suspicion grew when she recalled his message. “Your messenger left us less than a half hour ago. Did you not plan to wait for his return message before setting out from London?”

  “He did make it, then?” Stephen asked. “Thank God. I sent him at the crack of dawn, and when he didn’t come back, I began to worry. I can’t imagine what took him so long or why I didn’t pass him on my way here.”

  “Perhaps you were in Chelton when he passed through, as well.” She studied his countenance, noting that he seemed oddly indifferent for someone who was as worried as he professed to be. The entire matter was a little strange, but perhaps he only pretended to be indifferent. She didn’t know him well enough to pass judgment and didn’t really care about his concerns. She had other, vital, matters to attend to. Matters regarding a despicable, lying cad.

  “Please excuse me,” she said. “I have urgent business. You’re welcome to go on to Stonecrest and await Derek’s return.”

  “Surely you’re not riding unaccompanied? I shall ride with you.”

  “I’m sorry, but I insist on riding alone. If you’ll excuse me…” She nudged Ahote with her knees.

  A gunshot rang out and Ahote reared, nearly unseating Lucy, and then the horse leapt forward, taking off across the field toward the woods. Lucy hung on, hoping Ahote would settle down, but in the meantime, his movements were so erratic she couldn’t anticipate a single one. Once or twice when he suddenly changed directions, she thought she might lose her seat, and she held tight to reins and pommel, unable to try for a successful roll off Ahote’s back. Finally, as the horse skirted the edge of the woods, she felt him beginning to tire and was able to catch her breath.

  She glanced back to see Stephen not far behind and signaled that she was all right. A split second later there came the crack of another gunshot, this one much closer and louder, and Ahote reared so high that he almost fell over backwards before taking off at a gallop into the woods. Seconds later Lucy was struck by a low-hanging branch and knocked off the horse, her last conscious thought being she’d never catch up to Derek now.

  Chapter 33

  Derek recognized the sedate black and gold-trimmed town coach parked at the front steps of Stonecrest the moment he crested the hill. Dread mingled with dismay as he realized what it meant.

  So much for his plan of letting Lucy explain. The tables had turned. If she knew about his deceit, and she undoubtedly did, he’d be the one doing all the explaining.

  He gritted his teeth at this turn of events. He wished he’d never thought of the blasted masquerade. As Stephen had said all along, he had no business dealing with smugglers. He’d wanted to carry on his father’s work as some kind of testament to the man and, just as importantly, as proof that he was a worthy son, but in reality, his father had been foolish to spend so much of his time, effort, and money trying to track down a gang of criminals. And he’d been just as foolish to try to finish the job his father started.

  He had more important responsibilities, ones that were his alone, and he was an idiot for taking so long to figure that out. He would tell Lucy everything, even though he hadn’t told Stephen the masquerade was over, but it couldn’t be helped. If he and Lucy were to have any future, he’d have to come clean. So would she.

  Strangely enough, no one opened the front door, so Derek pushed through it and heard excited voices drifting from the drawing room. He hurried in that direction, steeling himself for what was sure to come. The door was ajar and he stood listening, hoping to hear the tone of Lucy’s voice so he’d know exactly how to approach her.

  Unfortunately, the only voice he could make out was his mother’s, which wasn’t surprising under the circumstances. She had a tendency to jabber when nervous, and if finding out that her son was masquerading as an American privateer wasn’t enough to make her nervous, then the fact that he had taken a wife certainly would be. He took a deep breath and calmly entered the drawing room, prepared to take control.

  “Jonathan!” his mother ins
tantly exclaimed. “Where have you been? We’ve all been waiting for you!”

  Derek glanced around at the inhabitants of the room, which included Lucy’s aunt, Jimmy, and more than half the servants. The clamor stopped abruptly at his appearance, and everyone began bowing and curtseying in such a comedic way he was almost forced to laugh. He allowed himself a single grunt instead. Nodding at them so they could stop their ridiculous displays of respect, he turned to his mother. “What, may I ask, are you doing here? Did Curtis send you?” If his steward had told her about the masquerade, he would never see the huge bonus Derek had promised.

  His mother gave him a peeved look. “James? Of course not, and that is something I wish to discuss with you. I do not appreciate being lied to. It is extremely rude of James to insist he knows nothing of your whereabouts when we both know good and well that he does. He should tell the truth and say he knows where you are but won’t tell me. At least that I can tolerate!”

  “Anything else?” Derek asked dryly. “Where’s my wife?”

  “And that is another thing,” his mother continued. “Naturally, I am thrilled that you have married, but in such a manner. I wanted a big wedding. Then there is the matter of your wife’s reputation. There is no doubt in my mind who is responsible for that. I tried to tell you things are not the same here as in—”

  “Mother, I haven’t time to chit-chat just now,” Derek said in exasperation. “You broke news to my wife that should have come from me, and if I know her at all, she’s furious about it.”

  “You are exactly right, Jonathan. She was furious about it, but she couldn’t stay to discuss it. She had an appointment and she—”

  “Where? Where was her appointment?”

  “Now, how should I know that?” his mother asked. “I only just met the girl, though I will say she is very lovely, and I am certain once I get to know her, I will love her just as much as—”

  “Mother, please.” He looked at Eleanor. “What appointment?”

  Eleanor shook her head. “I know of none. I’ve rung for Bridget. Lucy most likely took to bed with a headache. This excitement would be enough to give anyone a headache.”

  By the time Bridget arrived, the conversation had escalated to a miniature roar, with everyone talking excitedly, and, as Derek noticed, with more of them doing the talking. Every servant in the house, along with several of the tenants, had squeezed into the drawing room, and oddly enough, neither Eleanor nor his mother seemed to care. He rubbed his temples, wondering if it might not be a good idea to down a stiff drink, or maybe two.

  Bridget sauntered into the room and shook her head emphatically when asked of Lucy’s whereabouts. “She’s not in her bedchamber, Captain.”

  His mother twittered. “Captain. It sounds so odd to hear someone call you that, though I know you were a captain in America—”

  “He sure is, ma’am!” Jimmy’s high-pitched voice interrupted, though Derek could no longer find the little boy in the crowd that surrounded his mother. “You should’a seen him on that slave ship. He almost split open that sailor’s guts right there on the deck, and then—”

  His mother’s mouth dropped open and she clapped her hand over it, her eyes bulging in alarm. “My goodness!” she said. “I will not countenance this sort of talk. Perhaps you were a captain, but now you are the Duke of Dorrington, dear, and you simply must act so.”

  Bridget, who had not heard the news, fell into an awkward curtsey and gazed up at Derek with adoring eyes.

  He rubbed his throbbing head.

  “That will do, Bridget. If she’s not in her bedchamber, where is she?”

  Everyone started talking at once.

  “Quiet!” Derek commanded in his captain’s voice, and the room fell into silence. “Bridget, where is she?”

  “I don’t know, sir—my lord—er, your Grace. She must have changed into her trousers because her gown is on the floor right where she left it.”

  “Bridget!” Eleanor chastised the maid’s mention of the distinctly unmentionable subject of a lady undressing.

  “Trousers?” asked Derek’s mother in a dazed voice. “Oh, Jonathan, did you hear that? She wears trousers.”

  At the same time that Derek said, “Yes, Mother,” another man’s voice said, “Yes, my dear.” Derek whipped his head around in the direction of the voice. In the shadows near the wall stood a man as tall as Derek. When the man stepped into the light, Derek was struck dumb.

  “Oh, dear,” his mother said with a nervous giggle. “For a moment there, I forgot you are both Jonathans. You won’t remember Jonathan Summerfield, my dear,” she said to Derek, though her adoring gaze was still on Summerfield. “You were only six years old the last time he visited Dorrington, but he so wanted to accompany me here today.”

  Derek stared in fascinated silence at the gentleman with silver-gray eyes that could have been reflecting back from his own face, had he been looking into a mirror. In fact, he was looking into a mirror, except the man was twenty or so years older, with bits of silver threaded through his dark hair. In that moment Derek understood exactly why his father had hated Summerfield, and the reason had nothing to do with smuggling.

  His entire masquerade came crashing down around him as he realized the man he assumed to be the leader of a smuggling gang was guilty of nothing more than bedding his mother—and siring the heir to the Dorrington dukedom. No wonder his father had hated Derek! No wonder he had preferred Anthony! No wonder he sent Derek off to America and never bothered to contact him again!

  He swung his stunned gaze to his mother, who had the grace to blush, but when she raised her eyes to meet Summerfield’s, her face shone with such love for the man that Derek could hardly hold anything against her. Still, he staggered with the knowledge he’d gained in the past two minutes.

  Before he could say a word, attention turned toward the door as shouts filled the outside hall. Colin burst into the room, yelling, “Captain, Ahote’s back!”

  Colin’s terrified gaze settled on Derek. “He’s alone, Captain, and he’s acting ever so crazy! Hurry!” Colin turned around and took off at a run toward the back of the house.

  Derek raced after him, his heart pounding. The horse was alone. Lucy must have taken a fall. Fear rushed through him as he realized Lucy must be unconscious or injured badly enough that she could neither walk nor pull herself onto her horse.

  He dashed outside and leapt onto Ahote’s back, hoping, as the horse immediately charged toward the path into the woods, that Ahote knew where Lucy was and would take him there. All the possibilities flew through his mind. Lucy could be injured or dead, and the unspeakable thought sent a wave of terror through him. She had to be all right. She had to be, or he couldn’t bear it.

  Fear pumped furiously through his veins, and as the stallion veered off to the left along a narrow path, Derek realized he was doing something he hadn’t done since he was a child.

  He was praying. He was praying for Lucy. Praying she was safe.

  Chapter 34

  The hazy fog began to lift from Lucy’s mind and she tried to focus on the dim blur of light to her left. It grew brighter and its edges became more defined until it turned into a window. Disoriented, she studied her surroundings. She was lying on an old cot in an almost-empty, dimly lit cottage. The old gardener’s cottage. She moved to sit up, then cried out at the searing pain that shot down her leg.

  “Lucy!” Stephen hurried in from outside, a knife in his hand. “Don’t try to move, at least not until we see how badly your leg is injured. It’s bleeding. I’m afraid I’ll have to cut away your trousers from the knee down. It can’t be helped; the injury needs to be bound.”

  Lucy stared at the crimson stain on her trouser leg and remembered everything. “Ahote—is he all right?”

  “Who?”

  “Ahote. My horse.”

  “Haven’t seen him since he took off. What the deuce happened to him, anyway? I thought at first that one of the hunters had nicked him, but he could
certainly buck and gallop just fine.”

  “He’s terrified of gunshots. He can’t help it.”

  “His fear almost got you killed, Lucy. You took a bad fall. I was beginning to think you would never come to.”

  “How long was I unconscious?”

  “About five minutes, but it seemed like five hours. I was planning to go for help, but I didn’t want you to wake up alone. Then I saw the blood. Here, hold still while I cut.” He lifted up the material and cut it halfway up her thigh.

  Lucy flushed with heat. She hadn’t expected him to cut so far up since the injury seemed to be at the knee, and he was cutting in a most unseemly manner, she decided as his fingers skimmed her bare skin. He was a man, after all, and not her husband.

  “There!” Stephen held up the material. “You see,” he said, pointing to a jagged rip in the material, “it’s torn there. You must have struck a rock when you landed. Now, let me take a look.” He poured water onto his handkerchief and wiped the blood away from the wound.

  Lucy steeled herself against the pain and pushed herself up to look. Her leg wasn’t bleeding any longer and it didn’t look so terribly bad. “I don’t think you need to bind it,” she said. “Why don’t you go for help? If you follow the path through the woods, you’ll come out to an empty field on the other side. From there you can see the stable.”

  It seemed a much better idea to have Stephen go for help than to stay with her. His manner was unnerving. He was sitting so close to her she could smell the scent of cologne mixed with sweat, could see the gold flecks in his brown eyes, eyes that held a strange expression.

  Stephen’s lips curled. “I insist on binding the wound first. It might start bleeding while I’m gone, and Derek wouldn’t like that, would he?” His eyes never left Lucy’s as he reached up to the third button of his shirt and unbuttoned it.

  Lucy’s stomach knotted. “What are you doing?”

  “I have to bind your leg with something, don’t I?”