by Gayle Callen
Richard sighed and ruffled Stephen's hair in relief, then glanced at Meriel, who watched him, wearing a tremulous smile.
Constable Leighton strolled closer to Charles, whose smile had finally faded. "And you said you were in league with the real duke, but you were breaking your agreement."
"You misunderstood, Constable," Charles said, then stiffened when the other constable behind him put a hand on his shoulder.
"You can come with us into Ramsgate, Sir Charles. I'm sure you'll try to talk yourself out of this, and it will be a long night."
Constable Leighton turned to the other officer. "We'll need to start a search for Jasper Tearle, and see to Mr. O'Neill's injured men." He looked over his shoulder at Meriel and grinned. "Thank you for the loan of your pistol, Miss Shelby. Might I keep it awhile longer?"
"As long as you'd like, Constable," she said. "You have my undying gratitude."
"It came from such a nice hiding place," the man replied.
Meriel blushed. Richard came to stand beside her, and he smiled as Stephen hugged her.
"So where was my pistol again?" Richard asked.
"Strapped to my thigh," she said haughtily. "You told me to find somewhere to put it."
Charles was led away, already trying to explain his actions.
Constable Leighton looked at Richard. "We'll need to ask you more questions, Mr. O'Neill."
"Any time, Constable. But might I get my nephew into bed tonight? It's a very trying time for him. Please ask Sir Charles where we can find the duke's body."
The constable looked sober. "I will. So you're certain that the duke is dead?"
"Sir Charles told me he was. He held hostage my brother's terrified valet, who verified that my brother was dead. That man still hasn't been set free."
"We'll find him. I'll speak with you in the morning."
Richard put Stephen up on his shoulders, and then he and Meriel followed the constables through the woods. By the time they got back to the house, Stephen was drooping forward with exhaustion. Guests were still milling about the grounds, and they stopped to watch the parade of constables and their prisoner. When Richard, Meriel, and Stephen brought up the rear, they received shocked stares.
Meriel leaned toward Richard. "They act like they already know who you are," she whispered.
"Maybe they do. One constable came back before the others. All he would have had to do was tell one person and then— "
"An explosion of gossip."
As they left the constables and headed back indoors, whispers and stares followed them. Meriel wanted to feel vindicated, but all she felt was exhausted and sad for Stephen, who had lost a father and now a cousin.
Mrs. Theobald met them in the conservatory, staring wide-eyed until she saw Stephen. She promptly burst into tears and grabbed the little boy. He sagged against her, blinking drowsily, and she allowed Richard to take him from her. Stephen cuddled against his uncle and closed his eyes.
Meriel put her arm around the woman and whispered, "I told the constables that the masquerade was all my idea to protect Stephen until we could find his father."
Mrs. Theobald glanced at her shrewdly, then nodded with obvious relief. "You are good to Mr. O'Neill." She lowered her voice. "But then, you love him."
"Yes." Meriel felt like a silly girl as tears welled in her eyes.
They both turned to look at Richard, who cradled Stephen and watched him sleep.
"Meriel!" cried a voice.
She looked up to see Renee striding quickly through the turning paths, pushing aside ferns. "I heard the most dreadful rumor," she said. "It certainly can't be true that Cecil is— "
She came up short as she saw Richard's face. He looked at her with such sorrow, such resignation. Her eyes widened and flooded with tears.
"Oh dear, you're Richard, aren't you?"
He nodded. Her shoulders slumped, and she looked bewildered as Meriel put her arm around her.
"I should have known," Renee said to Richard. "You seemed different, but I thought you— he had finally grown up." Her voice trailed away, and when she spoke again, it was husky with strain. "Is it true what that constable said? Is Cecil…dead?"
Richard nodded. Meriel took Stephen from him and watched with sorrow as he went to Renee. Renee didn't seem to know what to do with him, but then she began to sob, and he put his arms around her.
"How horrible it must have been," she said, hiccupping with each unsteady breath, "to die like that."
"We don't know how he died yet, Renee," Richard said gently. "Consumption might very well have taken him."
"But you don't believe that," she said.
"No."
Meriel watched his face as he spoke about his brother. There was pain and heartache and a terrible knowledge. She hadn't heard everything Charles had said, but he'd implied that Cecil had betrayed Richard.
How would Richard, who had so few good memories of his childhood, ever forget this?
Within the hour, the guests were all gone, Stephen was in bed, and Meriel was alone in her room, hurriedly removing her costume. When she wore her dressing gown, she rushed down the private staircase and knocked softly on Richard's door.
There was such a long pause that she began to think he wasn't there. Then he called for her to come in.
She opened the door and saw him slumped tiredly in a chair near his writing desk. He was still wearing some of his evening clothes, although his coat and waistcoat were tossed on a nearby chair. A dark bruise had blossomed on his cheek. There was a small bloodstain on his upper sleeve, and she wanted to tend to the wound beneath. But he was staring at a piece of paper in his hand.
She slowly walked toward him, and he looked up with an exhaustion that made her want to cradle him in her arms and never let go.
"Hargraves just brought this," he said.
"What is it?"
"A letter from Cecil."
She would only have sat near him, but he pulled her onto his lap and rested his cheek against her shoulder.
"It just arrived today?" she asked.
"Several days ago. Cecil wrote that Hargraves should give it to me when everything was over."
"What does it say?" She found herself whispering.
"It's an apology for getting me into this mess," he said, laughing without any amusement. "Cecil said he knew he was dying, and that he'd made a bargain with Charles, doing the best he could to safeguard Stephen."
She stiffened. "And he expected you to receive this letter after you were dead, a death he practically arranged?"
"No, he never expected me to die," Richard said, looking bewildered and amused and…peaceful. "He put me in the middle of this situation because he trusted that I could defeat Charles where he couldn't. In his naive way, he thought I, his big brother, could fix everything for him."
"And you did," she said, near tears herself. She was so grateful that Richard would not have to live with the knowledge that his brother had wanted him dead.
"Just barely." He held up another piece of paper. "This is a document granting me guardianship."
"Oh Richard, how wonderful! Now you and Stephen will never have to be parted."
She put her arms around him, snuggling as close as she could get, letting him rock her. After several quiet minutes, she broached the subject most on her mind.
Looking up into his face, barely breathing with nervousness, she said, "Will I still be Stephen's governess?"
"No." He smiled down at her tenderly. "But would you be his aunt?"
The grin she wore almost hurt her face, even as her foolish tears started to flow again.
"I hope all this crying is a good sign," he said, "because I love you, Meriel. I never thought I could trust anyone the way I trust you. You not only saved Stephen's life— you saved mine, in every way that matters. You guided me when I needed it, you offered me your support when I didn't deserve it, you— "
"Just stop!" she said, laughing and crying all at once. "You have no idea what you'
ve done for me, Richard. This last year has been so hard. I told myself I could never trust my emotions, that I would let logic guide me. I had only that. And then I met you, and I was drawn to you from the very beginning."
"Is that such a bad thing?" he said gently. "I couldn't stop looking at you from the moment we met."
She stared up into his face, feeling hot tears etch paths down her cheeks. "But I thought you were the duke! I thought you were the kind of man I should never be attracted to, that once again my emotions were leading me in the wrong direction."
He remained silent, stroking the damp curls from her face.
"I had lost so much, Richard— my place in society, my respect for my father, my belief in myself. I replaced it all with a need to control everything— and I don't believe we're so different there."
He laughed.
"But then…I discovered that my intuition about you was right. You were— you are the perfect man for me, and I should have trusted myself— trusted that from the very beginning."
"I hardly inspired trust," he said dryly, using his thumb to wipe away her tears.
"But you did. You proved all of my emotions right. You are a man worth trusting, Richard— and through you, I learned to trust myself again."
"Say the words," he whispered.
Her smile was wobbly with emotion. "Richard, I love you."
His kiss was soft and sweet and full of the promise of a future together.
He cupped her face in his hands, kissing her cheeks and her brow. "Will you mind marrying me and living in this old giant of a house?"
"As long as I'm with you and Stephen, I don't care where we live. We could take trips to Manchester, and show him where you lived."
"But he's the duke. He'll need to be with his people more than anything."
She nodded. "He'll need all their support."
"But not their indulgence. He can be a better duke than his father and grandfather."
"With help from his uncle," she said happily.
They kissed again, and he smiled against her lips.
"What are you thinking?" she asked.
"Cecil may have done a lot of things wrong, but he brought you and me together. Though I thought he was being his usual arrogant self, he always swore he would find the perfect wife for me. I wonder if he realized that when he hired you."
She snuggled deeper into his arms. "And he found the perfect father for Stephen. He created our family, Richard."
"I think we can take it from here," he said. "You're not going to leave me tonight, are you?"
"Never."
Meriel promised herself that Richard would know the joys of family for the rest of his life.
About the Author
After a detour through fitness instructing and computer programming, GAYLE CALLEN found the life she'd always dreamed of as a romance writer. This USA Today bestselling author has written eleven historical romances for Avon Books, and her novels have won the Holt Medallion and the Laurel Wreath Award.
Gayle lives in central New York with her three children, her dog Apollo, and her husband, Jim, the Romance Hero. Visit her website at www.gaylecallen.com com.
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By Gayle Callen
THE DUKE IN DISGUISE• THE LORD NEXT DOOR
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NO ORDINARY GROOM • HIS BRIDE
HIS SCANDAL • HIS BETROTHED
MY LADY'S GUARDIAN • A KNIGHT'S VOW
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Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
THE DUKE IN DISGUISE. Copyright © 2006 by Gayle Kloecker Callen. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Palm Reader Maly 2007 ISBN 978-0-06-144822-5
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