Capture My Heart

by Bobbi Smith

  Satisfied with his response, she said. "I sent the letter to England three weeks ago informing the duke of your miraculous return from the dead. I'm sure Edward will want to verify everything before he accepts you as really being Alexander, so I imagine I will be hearing from him or his representative some time in the next week or so."

  "And you've arranged everything so no one knows about me or my real background?" David worried that some of his old acquaintances might reveal his true identity. Had he known Vivienne better, he wouldn't have concerned himself.

  "I've handled it. Our story is perfect, and there are witnesses in place to testify to it all under oath, if need be." Vivienne smiled again, silently congratulating herself on her brilliant tactics in paying off or eliminating anyone who might possibly interfere with her plans. In her usual devious way, she had covered every possible angle. All she needed now was for Edward to believe David's performance. Her life would finally become then what she'd always imagined it would be.

  At her words, David fell silent. He thought it a rather sad testimony to his existence that he, David Markham, could disappear so completely and not one of his acquaintances even noticed; or, if they did notice, cared enough to ask questions. It left him feeling even more isolated than he already felt.

  The carriage drew to a stop before the tailor's establishment, and David climbed out to help Vivienne in her descent. A few moments later, Vivienne was seated in the outer room waiting for him to emerge in one of his new suits. When David appeared, it was all she could do to control her surprise over how much he truly resembled Avery. He was wearing a gray dress coat, cut-away in style, a burgundy-colored vest, a white shirt and matching cravat, and tight, perfectly fitting gray breeches. If Edward were to judge on physical appearance alone, Vivienne was certain there would be no doubt in his mind about the authenticity of his claim.

  "What do you think?" David asked her as he approached.

  "I think you look wonderful, Alexander," she answered. "I'm proud to have you as my son." Her next words were for his ears only. "Now, we have only one more trial left to face before our goal is met."

  "Grandfather?" he asked.

  "Yes. Your grandfather."

  "I can't stand this confounded waiting," the now seventy-two-year-old Edward complained to Dalton as he sat in a wing chair in his bedroom, watching out the window that afforded him a view of the front drive. There was a blanket across his lap to ward off any chill, and on the bedside table nearby was a bottle of the elixir his physician had prescribed for him to take three times a day to bolster his failing health and spirit. Both Edward and Dalton knew, though, that the news of Alexander being found had done more for him than any medicine could hope to do. He had been weary of life, but now had a reason to go on. "For nearly twenty years I have anticipated this moment, and now, these last few hours seem to be longer than all the rest . . ."

  "I understand completely, Your Grace," the aged Dalton sympathized as he remained close by his side. He had suffered through the painful loss of Lady Catherine and young Alexander just as the duke had, and he, too, was eagerly anticipating the boy's return this day. It was heartbreaking that Lady Catherine wouldn't be returning with him, but they'd both read Townsend's explanation as to what had happened to her.

  "I just can't help but wonder, though . . ." Edward glanced over at his servant, and Dalton could see the grain of doubt flickering in his eyes.

  "How Lady Vivienne managed to find him after all this time when you couldn't?" he finished for him.

  "Exactly," the duke replied heavily. "I never stopped hoping, but . . ."

  "I'm sure everything's going to be fine, Your Grace. Sir Townsend did send a man to investigate, did he not?"

  Edward nodded. "And everything Vivienne claimed in her letter appears to be true."

  He thought of the report Henry had received that confirmed it all. It had detailed how Vivienne had never stopped searching for Alexander, how her reason for moving to America was to be close to her own investigators who had information concerning her son's whereabouts there. It went on to say how her men had finally located the future duke and seen mother and son reunited. It was a touching story of faithful, unending devotion. But Edward still harbored a niggling doubt about Vivienne's true motives. He had helped her through the years, since she was family and he'd been grateful that she'd never disgraced the Wakefield name, but he had never developed any warmth or affection for her, and he was positive the lack of deep feelings ran both ways.

  "Then I should say that today is a day for rejoicing, Your Grace."

  Lost in his depressing musings, the duke looked old, very old, but at Dalton's comment, he brightened again. Just the smile he smiled and the renewed twinkle in his eyes made him look and feel younger again. Dalton had been his mainstay during all the troubling times since Catherine and Alexander had disappeared. Edward sometimes wondered how he would have gotten along without him.

  "Indeed you're right, Dalton. If Townsend's men say it's so, then it must be true. He's a very thorough fellow and one I trust implicitly. We shall celebrate grandly when I see my grandson again." Tears, long denied, blurred his vision, and he quickly blinked them away. "Damnit, man, what is taking them so long!" he blustered to cover the deep emotions that were ravaging him as he turned his attention once more out the window so he could watch for Alexander's return.

  The duke's carriage was racing from London toward Huntington House. Vivienne sat close beside Alexander while Henry Townsend sat on the seat opposite them. She was nervous, but she was revealing that apprehension only as excitement over her son's return to his childhood home, not as fear of David's being discovered as an impostor.

  "This is so exciting, Alex," she said to him, giving him a very motherly smile. "I can't wait to see your grandfather's face when he sees you He's going to be so happy . . ." Conjuring up just the right amount of tears for the occasion, she dabbed daintily at the corner of her eye with a lace handkerchief.

  David was playing his role to perfection. He looked nervous, uncomfortable, and excited all at the same time. "Do you think he'll really believe it's me?" he asked, glancing back and forth between the solicitor and Vivienne. "It's been so many years, and things have changed so much. I've changed so much . . ."

  "Don't you worry," she reassured him, patting his hand. "Your grandfather will recognize you immediately. You look very much like your father . . . "

  "You certainly do, Lord Alexander. I don't think you have to worry on that account. I doubt His Grace will have any trouble seeing the family resemblance in you," Henry reassured the young man.

  "Good. I am looking forward to seeing him again so much. It's been a long time."

  "I am terribly sorry about your husband and Lady Catherine, Lady Vivienne," Townsend offered his sympathy.

  "Thank you, Sir Henry. It hasn't been easy for either the duke or myself, but now that Alexander's back, everything will be just fine."

  "It certainly should be," he reassured her. He'd heard the story from them about how Avery must have been searching the docks after the kidnapping and been caught by the same unknown thugs who'd taken the boy and Catherine. All Alexander could remember was that they'd all been locked up together in a windowless cabin on board a ship. The vessel had sailed from London, but he'd had no idea what the final destination had been. The young man's memory had been vague on a few things, but Townsend had been impressed with his tale all the same. He had been, after all, only seven years old at the time, and it was a pure wonder that he'd turned up now. The most tragic part of the whole affair was that no one had ever been able to find out exactly what had happened to Lady Catherine and Lord Avery. According to Alexander, they were separated when the pirates captured the ship, and he never saw or heard from either his father or his aunt again.

  Sad as that discovery had been, though, Townsend still knew that the duke was going to be thrilled to have his grandson back. He also knew that this just might be the thing that would help him rega
in the will to live. He'd been watching him slowly deteriorating over the last few years as he gave up that last thread of hope of ever seeing his family alive again. Now that was all changed, and he hoped His Grace's health would improve.

  "Look, Alexander! There's Huntington House now!" Vivienne exclaimed, pointing out the carriage window toward the majestic mansion that had just come into view.

  "Yes, Lord Alexander, you're finally home," Townsend added, pleased at this happy ending.

  Chapter Thirteen

  David turned in his seat to look out the carriage window, and his first view of Huntington House left him speechless. His carefully maintained façade of control almost cracked as he stared in astonishment at the palatial manse that looked big enough to house most of Boston. Of the finest brick and stone, surrounded by perfectly manicured emerald lawns and flowering gardens, Huntington House rose in stately splendor to be silhouetted against the cloudless blue sky. Never in his wildest dreams had David ever expected the Wakefield family home to be this grand. He'd known from what Vivienne had told him that the duke was rich, but he'd never given any serious consideration as to how rich. It rendered him numb to think that if Vivienne's plan was successful, this would all be "his" one day.

  "Does anything look familiar?" Vivienne prompted innocently, sounding as if she was trying to jog his memory.

  "A little . . ." David said with a premeditated confusion that seemed real. "I remember the gardens mostly, I guess. I think I must have played outside a lot."

  "You most certainly did," she approved. "Oh, I'm so glad you're back. You just can't know what this means to me," Vivienne sighed happily as she gazed at her "son" with tender adoration. She wasn't lying; without "Alex," her fortunes would soon have taken a turn for the worse.

  Henry watched the exchange and felt happy that things seemed to have worked out so well. He wanted nothing more than his old friend's happiness, and he was sure Alexander's return would accomplish that.

  David glanced at Vivienne nervously, and she gave him a triumphant smile.

  "Are you nervous, Alex?" she asked.

  He nodded. "Very."

  "Don't be. You're home. Everything's going to be all right now."

  The carriage drew to a stop at the front door, and they descended and started up the stairs. Dalton appeared at the door to meet them.

  "Welcome home, Lady Vivienne. Good afternoon, Sir Townsend," the elderly servant greeted them, and then his full gaze fell upon "Alex." For a moment, he stared at the young man, studying his features and his gray eyes. Then, as if finally, truly believing, he smiled in spite of himself. "This must be Lord Alexander. Welcome home. We've missed you." It was a heartfelt greeting, and as close to a show of emotion as the family would ever get from Dalton.

  "Hello. You must be Dalton?" David returned with a warm smile of his own, recalling the lectures Vivienne had given him on the oldest and most influential of the duke's servants at the Huntington Estate.

  "Indeed, sir."

  "It's good to be back."

  "Where is the duke, Dalton?" Vivienne interrupted.

  "He's in his study awaiting you, your ladyship."

  "Thank you. Come, Alex, let's take you to your grandfather now. I'm sure he's eager to see you again. Sir Henry, you will join us, won't you?" she asked when she noticed that he was hanging back a bit.

  "I'll be in directly, Lady Vivienne. I thought perhaps His Grace would like some time with you in private."

  Vivienne granted him a beatific smile. "Why thank you, Sir Henry. That is most thoughtful of you."

  With Dalton in the lead, Vivienne and David started down the wide hall to the duke's study. David had to struggle to keep from gaping at his surroundings. Vivienne's descriptions of the riches of Huntington House had been glowing, but he'd still underestimated in his own mind. From the Aubusson carpets on the floor to the crystal chandeliers to the portraits of past dukes on the walls, the entire manor bespoke of elegance, wealth, and tradition. He understood fully why Vivienne longed to claim Huntington House and the fortune for her own.

  David's conscience reared its head, whispering in the back of his mind that he was not a Wakefield nor would he ever be a Wakefield, but he turned away from the critical thought. He focused on the encounter to come, knowing this was going to be the true test. He had to convince the duke that he was Alexander. Everything Vivienne had ever taught him raced through his mind—the family history, the expressions and mannerisms that were Alexander's as a child, the duke's unfailing love for the boy. David felt confident yet cautious as they walked on. Ahead of him, he saw Dalton pause and then knock on a door, and he knew the time had come. He drew a deep breath and prepared to face the future Vivienne had set for him.

  Edward had seen the carriage pull up to the front entrance, and he was hard put to control the emotions that raged through him. He alternated between excitement and fear. The old man kept his gaze riveted on his study door, knowing that at any moment the boy he'd thought he'd never see again was going to come through it.

  Edward was certain his reunion with Alexander was going to be the happiest moment of his life . . . unless the young man turned out not to be his grandson. In agitation, Edward scowled blackly over having had such doubts. Townsend had indicated Vivienne possessed written proof, yet there remained a flicker of uncertainty in his mind. Edward decided then and there that he would base his decision on his feelings. He would know instinctively whether the boy was Alexander or not. He was sure of it.

  There was the sound of footsteps in the hallway, and Edward's hands began to tremble. He clutched at the blanket that lay over his lap to steady them. Soon . . . very soon now.

  Dalton's knock came at the door. "Your Grace, Lady Vivienne and Lord Alexander have arrived."

  "Please show them in, Dalton," he called out, his eyes glued on the portal.

  Dalton pushed the door wide and held it open for Vivienne and David to enter the room.

  "Vivienne . . ." Edward greeted her as she approached him. He noted that although she was as attractive as ever, she was also still as cold. Despite the smile on her lips and her congenial expression, he could recognize the coldbloodedness in her nature.

  Vivienne hadn't seen her father-in-law for several years now, and she was shocked by how ill he looked. He certainly didn't appear to be long for this world, and that made her even more pleased with her plan. She did not let her reaction to the state of his health show in her carefully schooled expression. Instead, she went to Edward's side and pressed a kiss to his weathered cheek.

  "It's good to see you, Your Grace," she told him. Then, straightening, she said with feeling, "I'm glad I bring you good news today. The men I hired finally managed to locate Alexander. It's still even hard for me to believe. Our Alexander is back . . . my only lasting connection to Avery. Alexander, come and see your grandfather again. It's been far too long."

  The duke's shrewd, blue-eyed gaze swung to the tall young man standing just slightly behind her and nailed him with a penetrating look. Edward's breath caught in his throat for he knew this was exactly the way Alexander should have looked as a grown man—the dark hair and gray eyes. Yet, even as he acknowledged that his physical resemblance to Avery was uncanny, a hint of doubt remained that would not allow the old man to accept him without question.

  "It's good to see you, my boy," Edward spoke slowly, giving him a slight smile.

  "Grandfather . . ." David responded with warmth and affection showing in his eyes.

  David started to kneel beside his chair, but Edward waved him away and struggled to stand. Dalton came to his aid, and only then did Edward get to his feet, standing eye-to-eye with David. David accepted his serious regard without flinching. It had been nearly nineteen years since the duke had last seen his grandson, and David had expected that there would be such close scrutiny. He was as prepared as he would ever be for this encounter. Vivienne had warned him that the old man might not believe him immediately, so he stood silently before him, re
turning his gaze and waiting for his reaction.

  Vivienne maintained a controlled manner as she, too, waited for Edward's response. She'd hoped he would accept him right away, but it didn't surprise her when he didn't. The future of the duchy was at stake, and it was obvious now that he was going to take his time in coming to his conclusion.

  "It's good to have you back," Edward said, opening his arms to embrace the young man and breaking the tenseness of the moment.

  David went to him and was enfolded in his warm embrace. He felt the frailty of the old man and suddenly knew a deep sense of shame. The duke looked nothing like the ogre Vivienne had painted him to be, and David felt real guilt over the deception. He realized with finality that unless the duke rejected him, he would be trapped in the guise of Alexander Wakefield, the future Duke of Huntington, for the rest of his life. For a moment, he was torn; then, with a fierce effort, he pushed his sense of honor from him. David Markham was dead, or would be dead if he tried to exist again. He was Alexander Wakefield now, and according to Vivienne there wasn't anyone who could prove differently.

  "I've missed you, Grandfather," David said with deep emotion as he imagined himself reunited with his own dead parents.

  "You were so small when you left . . . barely eight," Edward spoke softly as he released him and then slowly levered himself back down in his own chair.

  "I know. I don't remember much about that time, but I do remember you . . ." As he said it, he almost wished that he did.

  "Sit down and tell me everything that happened. I especially want to hear about Catherine . . . and your father," he requested.

  David launched into the story Vivienne had so painstakingly invented. He was vague where she'd told him to be vague and detailed where she'd insisted upon details. It was some time later when he finished.

  "You were set upon by pirates . . ." Edward remarked thoughtfully, finding no fault with his story, but still feeling vaguely uncomfortable in offering complete acceptance right away. The good Lord knew he wanted this boy to be Alexander, but that element of doubt hovered relentlessly in the back of his mind. "You used to think pirates were exciting."