by Gayle Callen
"But he had to know that the dukedom could have been his, but for the circumstances of birth."
Miss Barome sighed and sat back, looking out over her garden. "He never talked about it. In fact, I thought he rather disapproved of the way his father and Cecil behaved as peers."
So would Richard scheme to prove that he could do it better? Meriel would have enjoyed discussing it with Miss Barome, who probably could have provided more answers. But she didn't want to entangle the woman in what could be a dangerous plot.
On the ride back to Thanet Court, Meriel considered every motive that Richard O'Neill could have for assuming the dukedom. Had he hidden his lust for power all these years, plotted and planned until he could make it happen? Maybe he had even come up with the scheme as a young man, when everyone was constantly mistaking him for the duke. Or perhaps his investments had gone bad, forcing him to find another way to support himself.
But killing his brother? It just didn't seem like the serious, studious boy Miss Barome described. Nor could she imagine that this man, who seemed to enjoy spending time with Stephen, could kill the boy's father.
The duke was rumored to have been seriously ill. Could he have died, and Mr. O'Neill simply have taken over his life?
Or perhaps the real duke was only being held somewhere while Mr. O'Neill got something he wanted. But what? He seemed in no hurry. He spent his days as Cecil did, although he socialized less. Meriel had even overheard that the tenants had never seen so much of the duke before.
Perhaps he really was righting wrongs, being the duke and the father that his brother should have been. But then did he plan on leaving the country when Cecil came back? Or even going to jail as a martyr to a cause?
Meriel didn't know what to think, or especially what to do. There was no physical proof for her suspicions. Perhaps she should tell Mrs. Theobald, and let her decide.
Meriel knew she was letting her own feelings intrude, and she could not trust herself to make the right decision. She'd been lied to by her own parents, and hadn't realized it until it was too late. She'd trusted with her heart and her emotions, not her intellect.
Now with the Impostor Duke, she'd once again submerged the little suspicions she'd had along the way. She'd let her improper feelings for him sway her.
A small part of her considered just putting this behind her, getting out before the impostor was aware of her dangerous knowledge. She knew she could stay temporarily with her married sister.
But Meriel couldn't be that cowardly. Stephen was going to be crushed when he discovered the truth. And if his father was dead—
She couldn't imagine how the boy would recover from such a thing. He needed her now— he needed her to find a way to the truth. If she tried to bring in the police, no one would believe her, and she'd be removed from the household, leaving Stephen vulnerable.
She would have to discover Mr. O'Neill's motives, and what he hoped to accomplish. She needed proof, so that she'd be taken seriously. It would help to have accomplices, and she'd gradually see if Mrs. Theobald or even Miss Barome might believe her.
But until then, she would have to work on her own. And she could never leave Stephen alone with his father again. For after all, Mr. O'Neill had been showing too much interest in his nephew, the future duke. What reason could he have for that? Her first thought was that he needed to win the boy over, in case Stephen might have suspicions about his real identity.
But maybe Stephen himself was somehow part of Mr. O'Neill's purpose. The boy could be in terrible danger.
Chapter 13
The next day, Meriel took Stephen for a long walk in the garden. It was good to get away from the tension of the house, where any moment she might run into Mr. O'Neill, the Impostor Duke. He had not attempted to repeat his seduction, and she was glad of it. She was worried that she would not be able to keep her suspicions to herself if he cornered her.
Stephen walked at her side, occasionally looking up at her. As they followed an ornamental stream running through the grounds, she heard him sigh.
"Is something wrong, Lord Ramsgate?" she asked.
"Miss Shelby, you're too quiet today. Aren't you going to talk about things?"
It was her turn to sigh. "Sometimes our thoughts are so chaotic, it's hard to turn them off. When I was growing up and needed to sit and think, there was a corner of our garden in London, surrounded by trees and shrubs on three sides, and a high wall on the fourth. We called it Willow Pond, because there was a pond beneath a giant overhanging willow tree. It was rather overgrown, so my sisters and I always felt like it was our secret place, where we told each other things no one else should know."
"You were lucky to have sisters," Stephen said. "I always wanted a brother, but Father says he's not getting married again anytime soon. Do you want me to show you my secret place?"
She smiled down at him. "That would be wonderful, my lord."
Stephen's secret place involved crawling beneath the edge of a vine arbor, but in the end, it was worth a dirty skirt. The sun peeked through vines overhead, and the ground was covered in the softest moss. She was too tall to stand, but she could sit, and Stephen was there with her, safe from his uncle.
Did she dare question him?
"So you always wanted a brother," she repeated, as he showed her the unusual rocks he'd collected.
He nodded. "I'm only six. There's still time. Father knows lots of pretty women."
She pressed her lips together to hide a smile. "You'd think he'd understand your concerns, since he had a brother."
Stephen glanced at her. "You know about my uncle?"
"I've heard a little about him," she said slowly, hating to lie. "Have you met him?"
He bit his lip. "Yes."
"Then you're lucky. My aunts and uncles lived far in the north, near Scotland, so I never got the chance to know them."
"My uncle lives in the north, too, in Man— Manch— "
"Manchester."
"Yes!"
"Maybe we can study that city. I hear your uncle is a successful businessman there."
"He owns trains and ships and other things."
Meriel nodded. The success of Mr. O'Neill's business interests was something she might be able to find out, although she wouldn't make the mistake of questioning the household staff just yet. She would try the gardeners and the grooms first. If Mr. O'Neill was still wealthy, then money could not be his motive— unless he craved even more of it.
She couldn't think of a subtle way to continue a conversation about Stephen's uncle, so she said, "Well, my lord, I suggest we head back to Thanet Court. We have music to study today. Nurse tells me you've been practicing your piano."
She crawled beneath the arbor behind Stephen and smiled as he cautiously looked both ways before emerging onto the gravel path.
When she was standing beside him, he said, "After my music lesson, I'm going down to the huntsman with my father and the hounds. Is that all right?"
She wished she could refuse him permission. "Of course, my lord. Could I join you and watch? I've been doing some reading on dogs that might interest you."
He grinned and nodded.
* * *
Richard was looking forward to seeing Stephen alone. It seemed as if Meriel followed the boy everywhere. Even though he was beginning to think that Stephen would be able to keep his secret, Richard could never quite relax around the governess, mostly because of his masquerade.
But it was also because of the way she made him feel, full of desire mixed with uneasiness and suspicion and longing. The more he saw her, the more he wished she knew who he really was— a man who didn't flirt with the maids or recklessly go through his inheritance. A couple of weeks into his masquerade, and he was already sick of playing Cecil.
Stephen came running to the conservatory, where they'd agreed to meet.
"Father, we have to wait for Miss Shelby. She's coming, too! She just had to talk to Nurse Weston first."
Richard tensed. "D
id you invite her, Stephen?"
"She invited herself."
"She doesn't usually come to the huntsman with us," Richard said, frowning.
"She said she's been reading about dogs."
"We'll go now, and she can join us when she's able to. She won't mind." He hoped Meriel forgot the way there. Every time he saw her face, he remembered the taste of her kiss and the way she had fit tight against him, from the thrust of her breasts to the sweet curve of her hips. It was distracting and unnerving and…frustrating, because nothing could come of it. She would certainly never let him touch her again.
As they walked down through the garden, Stephen swung his arms merrily. "I showed Miss Shelby my secret place."
"And where's that?" Richard asked, smiling.
"I can't tell you. It wouldn't be a secret!"
"You told Miss Shelby."
"I know, but— oh, she asked about you."
Richard's spirits plunged. "Me, your father?" he said in a lower voice.
"No, you, my uncle," Stephen whispered back.
Richard casually looked around, but they were alone. "What does she know about me?"
"I told her you were from Man— Manch— "
"Manchester."
"She already knew you worked there. I told her you owned lots of things."
"And that's all?"
"Of course…Father," Stephen said, giving him a sideways smile.
Whyever would Meriel bring up Richard O'Neill?
"Hello, I'm coming!" called a voice behind them.
He looked over his shoulder to find the governess practically running after them, her skirts high enough to show her ankles. Richard would have enjoyed the sight if he wasn't so concerned.
Why was he feeling uneasy? Meriel had been telling Stephen about his ancestors. Surely in her research, someone might have mentioned Richard's name.
She caught up to them, breathing a little heavily, strands of blond hair coming loose from her chignon. Her spectacles glinted in the sunlight as she looked between them.
"Father didn't want to wait for you," Stephen said.
Richard inwardly winced. "I knew you'd have no problem finding us, Miss Shelby."
"Of course not, Your Grace," she said, her voice cool and unperturbed.
Every time she spoke, he sensed her hidden disapproval of him. How could he blame her after how he'd kissed her? He kept telling himself he was only playing Cecil, but that was a convenient lie. He hadn't felt driven to kiss anyone else, only Meriel.
And now she was beginning to ask questions. Perhaps he needed to do something else Cecil would do, another way to stop Meriel from having a reason to discuss him.
Perhaps he should have a dinner party. Surely when he was surrounded by people, all of whom didn't suspect his masquerade, Meriel would be forced to back down.
When they reached the kennel, she sat on a bench nearby, leaving Richard with the distinct impression that she didn't want Stephen to be alone with him. Another reason to convince her that he was the duke.
A dinner party would give him another chance to find out if Cecil's suspicions of their cousin were right. Richard would invite Charles Irving, the man Cecil seemed to fear. If Charles had started the cheating rumor, or if he had any designs on controlling Stephen, perhaps he would betray himself among company.
But either way, Richard had to do something bold. He needed to evaluate the enemy, to see if Cecil was just imagining things or not. Richard would station some men in the house as a precaution, and of course Meriel would never let the boy out of her sight.
As the huntsman showed Stephen the new tricks the wolfhounds had learned, Richard strolled to the governess and sat down beside her. She tensed as if he'd touched her.
"So you decided to visit the hounds with us today, Miss Shelby."
He looked down at her, and she kept her gaze fixed on Stephen. But her breathing seemed a little rapid.
He had to stop looking at her breasts.
"Lord Ramsgate tells me how improved their behavior is," she said, "so I had to see for myself."
"You could have seen them up at the house."
She hesitated, and he wondered if she was going to back down.
"Perhaps, but I was so curious, especially since your son says the dogs finally like you, Your Grace. So it took time to win them over?"
Her hints made him uneasy, so he decided to keep her off balance. He leaned back, hands flat behind him on the bench to brace himself. It put his fingers quite near her skirts, and she straightened even more, as if she could sense what he did.
"My best rapport seems to be with women rather than dogs, I guess," he said.
He watched the blush steal across her cheeks.
"I've decided to have a dinner party and invite some of the fairer sex."
"Then perhaps your staff will feel safe for a while," she said between clenched teeth.
"You don't feel safe around me, Miss Shelby?"
Stephen waved at them, and they both waved back.
"You have made sure that I cannot, Your Grace."
"Have no fear. I have never forced myself on a woman."
"Your position ensures that you never need to."
Maybe this was where all her hostility came from, a woman feeling threatened rather than suspicious.
"Are you saying that you would give in to whatever I suggested, regardless of your feelings, Miss Shelby? Because I would like to point out that you certainly did not kiss like a woman who didn't want to be kissed."
Her cheeks were bright red now, and she bit her lip. He wished she'd stop doing that, he thought, needing to adjust himself.
"I forgot my circumstances, Your Grace."
She practically hissed the words, and he remembered that she had only recently been one of the beauties at London parties. He did not think she'd welcome his sympathy.
"Ah, your circumstances," he said. "Are you saying that were you not my governess, you would choose to kiss me?"
"No!"
She spoke too loudly, and Stephen looked up from where he rolled around on the ground beneath one of the massive dogs.
"I'm all right, Miss Shelby!" the boy called. "Albert won't hurt me."
"Oh, very well," Meriel called with a bright voice that was patently false.
Richard slid his hand a little closer, until the fabric of her skirt just brushed his fingertips. He was teasing her— and tormenting himself. "So kissing me was something you willingly did, then later realized was a mistake."
"Oh, could you please stop bringing it up," she said with a heavy sigh.
He should have listened to her; he should have stopped right there, gone to Stephen and ended this.
Instead, an unfamiliar devil inside him made him lean a little nearer. "That kiss is not easily forgotten."
"But you must, Your Grace. I will not be your next mistress. I do not approve of your immorality, especially around your son."
She did not hesitate when she called Stephen his son, so Richard forced himself to relax. She couldn't know anything about his other life; she was just concerned about her own threatened innocence.
"You should find a wife," Meriel continued. "Use your dinner party as an opportunity."
"A wife who wants to kiss me."
She spoke so softly that he almost didn't hear her. "If you can find one."
"Ah, that's a challenge if I ever heard one, Miss Shelby."
She gave a little moan and covered her eyes with one hand. "Your Grace, please don't think that I— "
"Miss Shelby, come pet the dogs!" Stephen called.
"Here I come!" she answered quickly and shot to her feet.
Richard let her go— for now.
Chapter 14
Meriel managed to avoid the Impostor Duke for the three days leading up to his dinner party. She had a few scattered conversations about the duke's brother with several stable hands and grooms, but most were too young to remember. A boy suggested that the head coachman knew Mr. O'Nei
ll, but Meriel had not been able to find time to interview him. Stephen's welfare was more important than her investigating. She always had to make sure that the boy wasn't alone with the Impostor Duke.