She gave him a puzzled look as she tugged at the chain around her neck, pulling out the large locket. She slipped the chain over her head and handed the necklace to him.
Derek slid the tip of his knife under the edge of the broken latch, prying it open, then lifted the picture of her parents, along with something else, out. Very carefully, he unfolded a sheet of vellum so thin it was translucent.
Lucy stared in amazement. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t until just now.” He smoothed out the creases and looked it over. It was a map of the warehousing district in London, with circles around three buildings. The smugglers could have relocated their booty at any time, so the map itself probably wasn’t of great value, but the other information on the paper was damning. Listed in his father’s handwriting were the names of the suspected smugglers, with notes supporting his suspicions. The names were shocking; they represented some of the most illustrious members of the ton. Whether the men joined because of greed or were blackmailed into it by Nathan, they might never know, but thankfully, Stephen’s name wasn’t among them. And, of course, neither was Summerfield’s.
“Look—there’s something written on the back,” Lucy said. She leaned forward and froze for a moment, her expression stricken, and then read aloud, “My darling Lucy…”
Her face crumpled as her voice trailed off, and Derek realized why. He gently took the paper from her, turned it over, and began reading her father’s words.
“If you are reading this, I am gone. I’m so sorry for that, little one, but I cannot stand idly by while treason is committed, possibly by my own brother. While I do what I must, my heart is filled with sorrow at leaving you. Eleanor will be at your side, and you will have your dowry and Stonecrest as well, but what I most want you to have, neither of us can give you. So I ask for your promise that you will seek it out yourself, and when you find it, never let it go. It is true love, little one. If you have this one thing, you can face anything else life brings. Seek out your one true love and settle for nothing less, no matter the consequences. Love him, marry him, make a life with him. Give of yourself honestly and completely, as I know you will. One day we will all be together again. I love you. Papa.”
Tears flowed freely down Lucy’s face and Derek drew her into his arms, holding her gently, soothing her as she sobbed against his chest. After some time, her sobs faded away and she took a deep, shivering breath.
She lifted her eyes and stared wonderingly into the aching gentleness of gray eyes dark with emotion as she sought to put voice to her feelings.
She understood exactly what her father meant. Derek would never know how terrified she’d been in the cottage when she saw Isabelle rising up after that final gunshot, and she thought Derek had been shot instead. Until that moment, she hadn’t truly understood the depth of her love for him, and she wanted to tell him how she felt, wanted to tell him she had fulfilled her father’s wish before she had even known of it.
But no words could convey the magnitude of her feelings, and so she simply whispered, “I love you,” her heart filling with more joy than she could ever have imagined when he crushed her to him and whispered back, “My one true love.”
Epilogue
Your Grace, I am afraid we have received yet another gift. Where shall we put this one?” The butler’s face bore a pained expression as he gestured to the large rectangular object that could only be a painting.
Lucy hid her smile. The prankish gifts, which began arriving four days earlier with the delivery of a tiny treasure chest, had gotten more and more outrageous as time drew nearer to the masquerade ball, and Gibbons, the staid butler at Wentworth House, had endured about as much as he could.
There was nothing she could do about the gifts, however. There had been much speculation that the Duke and Duchess of Dorrington would don pirate costumes for their ball, and Derek’s friends couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease him about his privateering days. With an attempt at solemnity, she directed Gibbons to take the gift to the drawing room.
A few moments later, a shrill cry came from that direction and Lucy hurried there, stopping short at the sight of the life-sized painting of a fearsome-looking pirate with chest bared and dagger raised, a pirate who looked remarkably familiar.
Her gaze moved over the rendition of Derek’s dark hair, the arresting silver eyes and strong jaw, and she felt a familiar quiver of excitement. She admired the wide chest and rippling muscles of the arm that held the dagger, the narrow waist, the slim hips and muscular thighs. Suddenly her hand flew to her mouth, and she jerked her gaze to Derek’s mother, who appeared ready to swoon.
“Jonathan! Come to the drawing room this instant!” the dowager duchess cried out as she fanned herself rapidly. “Oh, my. Oh, how disgraceful,” she said, glancing at the portrait again. “That must be covered immediately. Think of the ladies. Their sensibilities…” Her voice trailed off and she collapsed onto the sofa.
Lucy looked helplessly at Eleanor, who quickly turned away, her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter, and a giggle tickled Lucy’s throat.
A peal of laughter floated from the hall, and a little boy with dark curls and silvery eyes charged into the room, propelling himself toward Lucy as fast as his chubby legs would go. “Mama! Mama! I sat on ’hotie! Papa held me up!” He stopped abruptly upon seeing the painting, and his eyes grew wide. “Papa!” he shrieked as he pointed at the pirate.
“Not exactly a true representation, is it?” said Derek drolly.
“Papa! Looks ’xactly like you,” said little Philip.
“Do you think?” Derek teased as he tousled his son’s soft curls. His eyes met Lucy’s, she grinned, and his own laughter erupted. His gaze swept back over the life-sized painting that did look exactly like him, except for the much larger-than-life size of a certain part of the pirate’s anatomy, a part which happened to be blatantly displayed in skintight breeches.
He picked up the card that had been dropped to the floor by his shocked mother. “It says this is from Jack and Sara, though I’m not quite sure why Jack felt the need to embellish my… er…”
“Jonathan!” His mother fanned herself furiously. “Oh… I shall swoon…”
Eleanor moved discreetly away to stand at a window on the other side of the large room, her shoulders shaking with renewed laughter.
“Jack?” Lucy thought of the dark, brooding duke whom Sara had married. “He doesn’t seem the type to play practical jokes.”
“You, my dear, don’t know Jack very well yet,” said Derek, “or you’d never say that. But I still can’t figure out wh—”
“Oh!” Lucy’s hand flew to her mouth again. “Sara! It’s Sara’s joke!”
Derek raised a brow, and a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “I’m almost afraid to ask…”
Lucy lowered her voice, but couldn’t stop her giggle. “Well, you see, we had a conversation about that particular appendage once, and I may have implied… Hmm. Never mind.”
Derek burst into deep, throaty laughter. “I think Jack and Sara are well suited. I also think we’ll have to hide this away. I’d hate for the ladies to be disappointed to see me in my pirate’s costume after they’ve seen this picture. I’d never hear the end of it from the men, either.”
Philip tugged at Lucy’s skirt. “Mama, I want to be a pirate just like Papa,” he said.
Lucy scooped him up and kissed his soft, pink cheek as she breathed in his still-babyish scent. She looked from the portrait to Derek to Philip and smiled.
*****
The carriages were backed up for miles in each direction, even though forty footmen, splendidly attired in burgundy and gold livery, hurriedly escorted guests from their carriages to Wentworth House. Not all of the carriages that lined the street brought guests. Many contained curiosity seekers, people without invitations who simply wanted to catch a glimpse of anything having to do with the ball that had been anticipated by all of London for weeks.
Inside, the
re was already a crush of guests, the orchestra was playing, and servants carried platters of food to and from rooms adjoining the ballroom. Lucy stood quietly near the balustrade of the main staircase, hidden from view, watching her costumed guests as they flirted and danced. She felt oddly at peace, considering that before the evening was over, five hundred guests would have passed through her home and tomorrow would report on even the tiniest detail of the arrangements.
Her eyes lit on Derek’s mother, gorgeously gowned as Cleopatra, standing beside Jonathan Summerfield, her husband of four years, who was, of course, a very handsome Anthony. Even from this distance Lucy could sense the love in the gaze that passed between them. So many years they had waited to be together, so many years Jonathan Summerfield had loved his son from afar. Derek finally knew the true love of a father and what it was like to give that kind of love as well. Her heart swelled for Derek and for herself. They had so much to be thankful for.
Movement near the end of the hall drew her gaze and she saw Derek coming quietly toward her. He was so handsome and rakish in his pirate’s costume that it brought back memories of another ball, the ball where they first met.
“Is he asleep?”
Derek nodded. “It took some doing, though. He was quite upset that he can’t attend the ball.”
Lucy gave him a knowing smile. “He’s not nearly as upset as he would have been if you hadn’t sneaked him down the servants’ stairs and through the kitchen to get a glimpse of the dancers.”
“I can’t sneak anything past you, can I?” Derek asked with a chuckle. He slid his arms around her and pulled her to him, closing his eyes at his body’s response to hers. He remembered the first time he’d held her this way, that first night when he’d drawn her out onto the terrace at the Grantham ball, that first night of his masquerade. “I’ll have to claim the costume made me do it,” he murmured against her lavender-scented hair.
Lucy sighed as she leaned into him. “I do like your costume, my lord pirate, even if you don’t.”
“Hmmm. It’s not the costume I don’t like, and I don’t even mind all the gossip that will probably start up again,” Derek mused as he continued to hold her. “I guess I just don’t like to be reminded of the masquerade because it represents the extreme arrogance and foolishness of a man who should have known better.”
Lucy pressed a warm kiss to his neck. “If it hadn’t been for your masquerade, we would never have met and both our lives would be so very different now.” She tipped her head back to look into his gray eyes and tried to imagine a life without Derek and Philip, but she couldn’t. She would never be able to imagine such a thing again.
“Then there’s only one thing I can say to that,” Derek said as he lowered his lips to hers. “Thank God for the masquerade.”
THE END
About the Author
Stephie Smith was born in Parkersburg, West Virginia, the fifth of six girls. Early years were spent making mischief and, in general, driving her parents crazy while the family migrated between Ohio, West Virginia, and Florida. In fact, her family moved so often—18 times before Stephie finished sixth grade—that some people suspected they were running from the law.
Stephie left home at 14, finished high school at 16, and joined the Air Force at 18, graduating with honors from the USAF Schools of Electronics and Instrumentation. After attending several colleges and universities around the country (switching majors from Chemistry to Art to English to Psychology but never figuring out what she wanted to be when she grew up), she followed her sisters to east central Florida and settled there. She remains there today writing historical romance, humorous women’s fiction, and computer how-to books. You can contact her through her website StephieSmith.com. She loves to hear from readers.
Copyright
Copyright © 2012 by Stephie Smith
www.StephieSmith.com
ISBN 978-0-9797034-1-6
All rights reserved. No part of this book shall be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons either living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published by
Wentworth Publishing
P.O. Box 123
Melbourne, FL 32902-0123
Acknowledgments
There are many people I wish to thank, for without them, I might have given up before publishing this book. They are…
– my sister Pam, because she always knows the perfect word but especially because she kept asking for the next chapter, which meant I had to write it;
– my brother-in-law, Darryl, master of many skills, one of which is plotting, for without his suggestion, my hero might still be wandering around Scotland, searching for buried treasure;
– my sister Sherry, who called when she finished reading the draft, crying and saying she couldn’t believe I could write such a wonderful book (???);
– Helen Breitwieser, whose belief in the story renewed my own; and
– Beth Hill of ANovelEdit.com, whose edits and suggestions made this a better book.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to Judith McNaught, whose wonderful historical romances have brought me so very much pleasure and continue to bring me pleasure as I reread them every couple of years. In fact, Ms. McNaught may be responsible for my foray into romance writing, for if she had continued to publish historical romances, I might never have felt the urge (nor had the time) to write my own.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Epilogue
About the Author
Copyright
Acknowledgments
Dedication
Contents
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
> Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Epilogue
About the Author
Copyright
Acknowledgments
Dedication
Contents
Duke Of Deception (Wentworth Trilogy) Page 32