To Ruin the Duke

by Debra Mullins

  She did not miss the hint of insinuation in his voice, which brought back with vivid clarity the stolen kiss they had shared. Warmth crept into her cheeks, and she hoped Thaddeus did not take note of it. “So we have, Your Grace.”

  “I think it is a good idea,” Thaddeus said. “You have not been long in London, Miranda, and with the duke looking after you, you will continue to be safe.”

  She sent him a baleful look. When had his opinion of Wyldehaven changed? “I seem to recall you thinking differently only two days ago, Thaddeus.”

  “Yes, well…” He sent a quick glance at the duke. “His Grace and I have been talking, Miranda. It seems that we may have wronged him.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Aware of Wyldehaven’s confident smile, she leaned forward. “In what way have we wronged him?”

  Thaddeus shifted in his chair. “Apparently there is someone impersonating the duke and causing all this mischief.”

  “Oh?” Her brittle tone made Thaddeus flinch. “What proof is there of this, Thaddeus? Who is this mysterious twin who is out to destroy the reputation of the kind and virtuous duke?”

  “Miss Fontaine, I believe that is enough.”

  Miranda abruptly turned at Wyldehaven. “I cannot believe that you are so craven as to assign your own misdeeds to a mysterious stranger who happens to be your twin. How gullible do you think I am?”

  “Mr. LeGrande has no problem accepting my explanation. One wonders why you are so intent on believing the worst.”

  “Because it is too fantastical to be true.”

  “You are a cynic,” Wylde murmured, understanding lighting his eyes. “Who would have believed a fierce warrior like yourself would have no faith in others?”

  “I know what life has taught me,” she said. “I know I can depend on myself. Others are not so reliable.”

  “You are too young for such hard beliefs,” Thaddeus said. “You should trust the duke to do what is right for you and James.”

  “What is it that he has said to you, Thaddeus, that makes you believe he did not do all the things we have heard about?” Miranda demanded. “He still will not admit to fathering James.”

  “Perhaps he didn’t,” Thaddeus said.

  “Lettie declared that he did. She would have no reason to lie. And you yourself said that you witnessed him with Lettie several times. How do you explain that?”

  “Apparently this imposter looks very much like the duke.”

  “How very convenient!”

  Thaddeus scowled. “Miranda, I was the one who actually saw the man, and I am telling you it was not the Duke of Wyldehaven.”

  “Is that so? What is different about him?”

  “His…uh…”

  “I am told this fellow has green eyes,” Wylde said. “As you can see, my eyes are brown.”

  The last thing she wanted to do was look into those velvety dark eyes of his. Instead, she gave a dismissive sniff. “Quite a fanciful notion.”

  Thaddeus took her hands in his. “Miranda, you must listen to me. This is what you wanted. Wyldehaven is willing to care for James. Why are you hesitating?”

  “Because he still does not admit he is James’s father. Material trappings are all well and good, but this boy needs a father. He did not ask to be born, to be an inconvenience.” Miranda slashed a look at Wylde, taking small comfort in the way he frowned at their clasped hands. “It seems to me that if a man was so careless as to create a child, he should take some responsibility in the raising of that child.”

  “He is taking responsibility. He is providing a home, food.” Thaddeus squeezed her hands. “Accept what he can give, Miranda. Maybe the rest will come.”

  “Thaddeus…”

  “Miranda.” Thaddeus gave her hands another squeeze, then released her. “People have their limitations. Take the duke’s offer.”

  “Fine.” She stood, still frustrated that Thaddeus sided with the duke. “In that case, I am ready to leave.”

  “At last.” Wylde stood as well. “I believe you will be pleased with your new home.”

  “I am certain it is quite fashionable, Wyldehaven, but it is not my home. It is yours.”

  He gave her a gentle smile, and she hated that he could make her belly flutter so easily. “No,” he said, indicating the baby. “It is his.”

  The house Wyldehaven had procured for them impressed her the moment she set eyes on it, but she would never encourage this scandalous situation by granting the duke any compliments about it.

  Small but elegant and set on a quiet street in an old but still fashionable neighborhood, the graceful residence appealed to every part of her that longed to be accepted by Society. This was how she had always imagined the home of her dreams. The fact that Wyldehaven provided it both chafed and thrilled her.

  She was not his wife or his mistress. This was a business arrangement, and she would see to it that things remained that way, no matter what ulterior motives His Grace might have. But she could not deny, at least to herself, that deep in her heart she wished all of this were permanent. Real.

  “Do you like it?” Wyldehaven asked, watching her closely. They still sat in his coach, the duke having relegated Thaddeus and the baby to the second vehicle. She had noticed that he seemed uncomfortable in the baby’s presence, but assumed it was a man’s natural awkwardness around an infant.

  She glanced out the window again at the house. Her heart opened in welcome, but she managed to keep her face impassive and her tone disinterested. “It is quite nice.”

  His jaw clenched, and she took a moment’s victory in that, but then the footmen were opening the door to the coach. “Let us see what you think about the inside,” he said. Rather than waiting for the footmen, he climbed out of the coach, then turned and held out a hand to her.

  Her heart skipped a beat. He looked all the world like a bridegroom welcoming his new wife to their home, but she cut off the thought before it could fully form. She could not afford to entertain any fanciful notions about this man. He denied his own actions in fathering James. And even if she could make herself look beyond his attitude and take his recent actions into account, he was a duke, far above the touch of the daughter of an actress who could not even name her own father. He would never offer anything honorable to a woman like her.

  “Come, come, Miss Fontaine.”

  The impatience in his voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She pulled herself out of the seat but hesitated in the doorway of the coach. His hand remained extended. Slowly, she took it.

  The warmth of his skin penetrated even through their gloves. His casual strength guided her easily down the steps until her feet touched the ground. He held her hand a moment longer than necessary, his gaze locking with hers.

  She sucked in a breath, trying to get her pulse back to normal. She had never been so affected by a man, and he’d already voiced his interest in her. Such a dangerous situation, especially for a woman who had sworn never to fall beneath any man’s spell. The sooner they resolved the situation about James, she thought, the better.

  Thaddeus emerged from the other coach, along with Mrs. Cooper carrying James in his basket. The actor glanced at their hands, still touching, and raised his eyebrows. She snatched her fingers from the duke’s clasp and marched toward the house.

  The next hour was full of introductions to the staff—one housekeeper, three footmen, three maids, and the cook—and Miranda did her best not to be overwhelmed. The house was beautiful, the servants well-trained. She had never imagined that she would ever enjoy such comfort. Wyldehaven watched her the entire time, so she struggled to keep her expression cool. She did not want him to believe he had turned her head by providing this lovely home for her and the baby—even if he had.

  It was not permanent. He was not some handsome hero in a fairy tale, sweeping her off to his castle to live in peace and happiness forever. This was a temporary situation while he decided what to do about James. She had to remember that.

  When the day cam
e that she had to leave this wonderful home, she would do so knowing that James was well cared for and her promise to Lettie fulfilled.

  Miranda went up to the third floor to look at the nursery. Wylde remained downstairs, the look on his face when she had asked if he was coming reminiscent of a man who had recently eaten bad meat. She, Thaddeus, Mrs. Cooper, and James went instead, guided by the upstairs maid. That young lady was called away within minutes and invited them to tour the area on their own.

  James began to fuss, and Mrs. Cooper excused herself to see to the baby in the tiny bedroom, leaving Thaddeus and Miranda in the schoolroom area of the nursery.

  “Well,” he said. “Have you changed your mind?”

  “About what?”

  “About being a man’s mistress.” He looked around. “This is a fine house Wyldehaven has provided for you, Miranda. I cannot help but wonder what price you will pay for it.”

  “You encouraged me to take his offer!”

  Thaddeus shrugged. “I thought you were simply being smart, letting a nob like the duke pay the bills until he found the courage to do what was right. But then I saw that little scene by the coach just now.”

  “I have no intention of sharing the duke’s bed, Thaddeus. How can you think that? You know me better than that!”

  He shrugged. “I can only go by what I see.”

  Anger sharpened her tone. “Speaking of what is seen, perhaps you might like to explain your dealings with the two ruffians who forced their way into the house the other day? Mint and Barney?”

  “I must apologize for that. I never thought those two would take a joke so far.” He gave her a placating smile.

  She would not be pacified. “Thaddeus LeGrande, tell me you do not consider me that much of a simpleton.”

  His smile faded and he sighed. “Very well. They were not friends. I owe money to a fellow from a card game. He is not always patient.”

  “How much money?”

  He drew himself up, clearly affronted. “Young woman, that is my affair.”

  She propped her hands on her hips. “My affair as well if these men think they can burst into your house and threaten us!”

  “Now, now. Do not even think about it.”

  “How can I not, Thaddeus?”

  “Because it is no longer your concern.” He swept his hand to indicate their surroundings. “You live here now. You are out of danger.”

  “So there is danger.”

  He looked away from her direct gaze. “Wyldehaven will look after you now, Miranda. He will keep you safe.”

  “I am not Wyldehaven’s responsibility. I am here for James and for no other reason.”

  Thaddeus gave a laugh. “Indeed. But does he know that? Have a care, Miranda, or you may yet lose your heart to him.”

  She jabbed a finger at him. “You stop hiding things from me that may put James in danger. I will see to my heart.”

  “Ah, dear Miranda, you forget I saw you out by the coach.” He gave her a sad smile and patted her arm. “I believe it may already be too late.”

  Shadows skulked in the taproom of the tavern, though sunlight streamed down from the heavens outside the filthy windows. A cloaked figure lingered at the table in the corner, the hood of the garment concealing any hint of a face or figure. Only the hand clutching the handle of a tankard betrayed his sex as male.

  Footsteps approached, then stopped beside the table. “Is this a joke?”

  The hooded figure glanced up. “Sit down. You are attracting attention.”

  The newcomer gave a quick laugh and seated himself at the table. He glanced around and caught the attention of the barmaid. “Ale,” he called out. She gave a quick nod and hurried to fetch him a tankard.

  The hooded one glared at his companion. “You are supposed to be discreet.”

  “Is this what you call discreet?” With a hoot of amusement, the newcomer reached across and yanked back the other man’s hood. “No one knows you here, my lord. And even if they did, they are all so sotted they would believe you an apparition. For what would the elegant and refined Viscount Linnet be doing in a tavern at the docks?”

  Kit glared. “You never know who may talk to whom.”

  “You worry overmuch.” The ale arrived, and Kit’s companion gave the barmaid a lecherous grin and a fond swat on the backside as she turned away. “Life is for living, Linnet. And lately, I have been living well.”

  “You certainly have.” Kit watched with distaste as the other man gulped back some of the ale and swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “But I believe it is time to stop the charade. Surely you have made enough money by now.”

  “So spoken by a man who has always had money at his fingertips.” The newcomer sat back in his chair and gave Kit a smile that was familiar and chilling at the same time. “There is never enough.”

  Kit looked down at his ale to escape the penetrating stare. He must have been mad to accept this man’s proposition so many months ago. How could he have been so foolish? Why had he allowed pride and jealousy to drive him into betraying one of his best friends?

  “Never tell me you are suffering the weight of a conscience, Linnet?”

  Kit glanced up again. “Of course not,” he lied. “It is just—well, it was easy when Wylde was sequestered at his estate. Now that he is here in London, it might be dangerous to continue. What if he discovers who you are?”

  The other man leaned forward, green eyes as hard as jade. “Are you implying that my dear brother the duke might actually look away from his bloody pianoforte long enough to unravel a plan that has been years in the making?”

  “He has heard the stories. He has been receiving the bills—”

  “And paying them!” The other man threw back his head and roared with laughter. For an instant he looked so much like Wylde that Kit nearly forgot who he was talking to. But when the other man reached for the ale, still grinning with malicious glee, reality came home with the force of a bullet. This was Daniel Byrne, Wylde’s bastard brother. He could have been Wylde’s twin, except for those distinct green eyes.

  And the fact that the man was a lunatic.

  Dear God, what had he done?

  “I just thought it might be prudent to stop for a while,” Kit said. “At least until he has returned to Wyldehaven.”

  “Are you mad, Linnet? Having him here only adds to the challenge!” Byrne leaned across the table. “Unless you are afraid of what he will do when he finds out you have betrayed him.”

  Kit hoped he appeared nonchalant as he reached for his ale. “Of course not. My concern is for my own hide—and yours.”

  “That is something I can drink to!” Byrne lifted his tankard again.

  Kit smiled and tapped his tankard against Byrne’s, but inside he cringed from what he had become. He’d always seen Wyldehaven as a man who had everything, and could never understand why Wylde considered himself tortured by Fate. To his way of thinking, it was damned churlish of Wylde to bemoan the imperfection of his life when he had so much wealth at his fingertips with which to soothe his ills.

  Byrne had approached Kit at just the right moment, at a time when his father’s financial strictures were strangling him, when he was eaten up with jealousy upon discovering that Michael had invited Wylde to go with him to India and did not include him. And when he asked Wylde if he could go along on the excursion, his old friend’s refusal had been blunt.

  His rage and hurt at being excluded overshadowed his common sense. Damn, but he had been an easy mark for a rogue like Daniel Byrne. What started as a way to get a little revenge—a share of the wealth and influence that Wylde enjoyed so casually—had turned into something completely different…and more dangerous.

  And what did he have left? Michael was dead, and he was riddled with guilt as he watched Wylde deal with the mischief Byrne had wrought. And now Byrne’s stunts were getting more daring. How long would it be before he went too far?

  He should go to Wylde, confess, tell him where to
find Daniel Byrne. But it would mean implicating himself—which would cost him Wylde’s friendship forever. And that was a price he could not bear to pay.

  He signaled to the barmaid. “More ale here!”

  “Two,” Byrne said, setting down his empty tankard.

  Kit nodded and held up two fingers to the barmaid. Then he turned back to Byrne—the devil he knew. “What is next in your plan?”

  Byrne’s lips parted in a slow, diabolical smile that made Kit’s gut knot. “You are going to truly appreciate this…”

  Chapter 9

  Why the devil were women so contrary?

  Wylde stared out the window at the London gloom. Pages of his opera lay spread across the pianoforte, but his fingers did not itch for the keys as usual. Instead his thoughts were consumed by Miranda Fontaine.

  What in Hades was wrong with him? She was just a woman—one with no prospects, at that. So she was comely. Many women were. So she had the voice of a seductress. The same could be said for many females treading the boards at Drury Lane. How was it that she caught his attention so completely, in a way no woman had since before his wife had died?

  Was it the baby, the mere fact that she cared what happened to him? Or was it the fierce way she protected the child, not even backing down when he challenged her?

  For some reason he had trouble staying vexed with her, even when she tried him to the end of his patience.

  She had come to his door begging for support for the baby she claimed was his. But perhaps begging was not the right word. Demanding was closer. She had arrived on his doorstep and demanded that he embrace this child as his own. Even in the face of outright rejection, she had not given up, passing herself off as an Italian countess, so she might perform for the upper ten thousand and provide for the child. Thank goodness he had nipped that in the bud! Such a vocation was in league with an opera dancer or an actress. Despite her humble circumstances, Miranda Fontaine was better than that.

  But was she good enough for a duke?

  Bloody hell, where had that come from? Was he going mad, imagining some romantic, star-crossed pairing with a female of unknown origins? She had not even had the good grace to thank him for providing a home and servants for her and the babe. He had expected some sort of gratitude yesterday—especially after that moment by the coach—when he had proudly opened the door of the townhouse. But she had marched into the building as if he had introduced her into a barnyard, her spine stiff and lips pursed with staunch disapproval.