For the Duke's Eyes Only (School for Dukes #2)

by Lenora Bell

  Indy nodded. “I’ll be right there.” She squeezed Raven’s hand. “You know where to find me.”

  He kissed her cheek. He didn’t care that Malcolm saw him do it. He’d kiss Indy as many times as he could for the rest of his life.

  When she’d left, he turned to Malcolm. “We need to talk.”

  “I know. Shall we at least find some brandy first?”

  “I need coffee more.”

  They climbed the stairs and found a sitting room on the main floor that had a lit fire. Raven ordered coffee and brandy from a servant.

  They sat by the fire. How to begin? He had so many things to get off his chest.

  “You love her, I can tell,” said Sir Malcolm.

  Raven closed his eyes. “I do. But I haven’t been able to speak the words. You made this way, Malcolm.” He opened his eyes. “You made me this thing that can’t express love. You stole my emotions. You bastard.”

  Malcolm didn’t attempt to defend himself. He met Raven’s gaze squarely. “I thought I was doing the right thing. Your father wanted you to follow in his footsteps.”

  “But that didn’t give you the right to shape my life in such profound ways. I was too young to make such a momentous decision.”

  Their drinks arrived and they fell silent. Malcolm sipped his brandy and Raven took a grateful gulp of fortifying coffee.

  “I needed a father, not a harsh taskmaster who sent me off to that brutal training ground to make a killer of me.”

  “And I needed a child. I had just lost mine.”

  “We were both lost souls. Both grieving,” said Raven.

  “Having guardianship of Mina has shown me that I was wrong to control your life in the way I did, even though I believed I was doing it for your own good. If there’s some way that I can make amends, please tell me. I will go and talk to Lady India, tell her it was my fault.”

  Malcolm was apologizing? Raven had never expected to hear those words. “Not necessary. I made the choice. You never coerced me. You told me what I would be giving up and you asked me to choose.”

  “And now you can choose a new life,” said Malcolm.

  “It’s not that easy, and you know it,” said Raven bitterly. “I don’t know if I can love her the way she loves me. She loves the boy I was, not the man I am now. I can’t go back to being that child. I can’t undo the things these hands have done.”

  If you love her you’ll find a way to be together. It seems to me she has a very clear picture of who you are. And she loves you anyway. I hereby accept your resignation.”

  “What resignation?”

  “The one you’re about to give me.”

  “I’m not ungrateful, Malcolm. The values you instilled in me have served me well. I’ve had a good career. I’m proud of the lives I’ve saved. I’ve been proud to work toward exonerating my father.”

  “And you will exonerate him fully someday. You’ve always had an innate goodness in you, Raven. You avoid bloodshed when possible. Many agents turn to violence as sport, you always stayed true to yourself, and your ethics.”

  “I have to find a way to make her trust me.”

  “You’ve always been resourceful. Even as a young lad you could make something out of nothing. Make a coin appear from the air. You’ve grown into a man I’m proud to call my associate and one I would be honored to call my son. Your father would be so proud of you. Sometimes we take a longer route to arrive at where we need to be. Just remember, the destination is what matters.”

  “She’s what matters.”

  “Go and find that troublesome female. If she won’t agree to wed you, then she’s a fool. Because you’re a good man.”

  Raven swiped the back of his hand across his eyes. He rose from his chair and walked to Malcolm. “Thank you,” he said, leaning down to give Malcolm a brief hug.

  Malcolm nodded, blinking his eyes. “Off with you now,” he said gruffly, clapping Raven on the back.

  Chapter 25

  Raven finally found Indy sitting in front of the Rosetta Stone on a low velvet divan.

  “There you are,” he said, sitting beside her. “Well? Did you find the answer you were searching for?”

  She sighed. “I’ve checked and rechecked but I keep coming up with the same problem. The temple indicated on my map isn’t dedicated to either Isis or Osiris, and therefore, if my theory is correct, it’s not Cleopatra and Antony’s burial site. All of this turmoil and strife to come up empty-handed, it’s beyond disappointing.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Back to the search, I suppose.”

  He hated seeing her distraught about anything. How had he kept her hating him all these years? All he wanted was for her to be happy.

  “You’ll find another clue,” he said. “Or you’ll embark on a different quest. Uncover another powerful female’s story. I do have a very interesting Greek urn in my collection that depicts a warrior woman riding a horse and wielding a lasso. Do you think these warrior women really existed? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you could prove it to the world?”

  She smiled at him and his heart lifted. “Now that’s precisely what’s up my alley.”

  “I thought as much. The urn is yours.”

  My heart is yours. Just say it. Raven, say it.

  “Are you telling me to journey to Greece? What will you do? Will you go back to your . . . work?”

  “Actually, I just submitted my resignation.”

  “You what?” Her eyes clouded over. “You can’t do that. I mean, I hope you’re not doing it for me. I would hate to be the cause of you giving up your career, and the job that gives you satisfaction and purpose.”

  “I was already losing my edge. There was an incident in Athens. You noticed the bruise on my cheek at Somerset House. I was careless. An agent was murdered. I nearly died.”

  “Raven, you never told me that.”

  “It’s been on my mind this entire time.”

  “Is that how you came by the bullet wound near your heart?”

  “I was so close to death. I lay in a church, bleeding my life away and looked up at the stained-glass window and I saw . . . you. I saw you, Indy. I saw the life I could have had with you. And it shook my conviction. It made me question everything.”

  “Oh Raven.” She held his hand. “Tell me what you saw.”

  “I saw us grown older. We were sitting by a fireplace. You had faint laugh wrinkles around your eyes. Your hair had one or two streaks of silver. I saw . . . two children playing at our feet.”

  A tear fell down her cheeks. “Children? I don’t know why you saw that. I haven’t a motherly bone in my body.”

  “Then perhaps we adopted, because there were two children there. A girl of about four or five, and a younger boy. The girl was playing with blocks, forming words, and the boy kept trying to put the blocks in his mouth, much to his sister’s annoyance.”

  She wiped her eye with her sleeve. “Sitting by a fireplace with children at our feet. It’s all so very domestic and conventional. What of my expeditions? What of my work?”

  “I don’t know where the fireplace was. It could have been in Greece. It could have been anywhere.”

  “Raven. I don’t want you to give up everything for me. You’d never be happy being idle. Strange that I should say that when I believed you were idle for so long.”

  “Not idle. Don’t you need an archaeological assistant? Can’t I carry your shovels, or your provisions?”

  “Be serious, please.”

  “I’m deadly serious.”

  “You just said that I dull your edge. You would resent me if you followed me around the world instead of following your own path.”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  He was cocking this up. Tell her you love her. Tell her you’ll die without her.

  “When you’re on an archaeological expedition, and you uncover a vessel with a crack down the side, does that make the bowl worthless?” he asked her.

  “Of c
ourse not. It means that the vessel was useful. I think the flaw makes it more beautiful.”

  “I’m a cracked bowl, Indy. I have this flaw running through me. I can’t express my emotions because I was devastated by my father’s death and then I was trained to hide my feelings. But I’ve been useful, and I want to find new ways of being useful. We both chose solitary roads but I believe that we’re stronger together.”

  Indy’s breath caught in her throat. Stronger together.

  He was saying all of right things . . . except for the one thing she needed him to say the most.

  “We do make a good team,” she said, tentatively. “We’ve fought our way out of some highly unusual and perilous predicaments.”

  He cupped her cheek with his hand. “I’d rather we avoided the perilous part.”

  “I’m not sure that’s possible. There will be snakes. And madmen. There are always madmen. And probably there will be fraying rope bridges across steep ravines. There may even be more gigantic opponents to subdue.”

  “Are you saying you’ll accept me as your partner?”

  “I might be.”

  He snapped his fingers near her ear and a coin rolled into his palm.

  “Where did that come from?” she asked, startled.

  “Had it up my sleeve,” he said with a devilish grin.

  He handed her the coin.

  There were two clasped hands on the face of the coin. “Is this . . . is this the coin I chose for you, Raven? You kept it?”

  “You’re not the only one who kept a talisman. I’ve carried this coin with me every day of my life. I hollow out a chamber for it in my boot heel. It’s my good luck charm. I believe it’s what kept me alive that dark day in Athens. Some part of me must have known that I needed to live, in order to give it back to you.”

  “I can’t believe you still have our coin.”

  “Whatever happened to the rest of the coins?”

  “I donated them to the British Museum. They’re in a drawer somewhere gathering dust.”

  “Not this one.” He closed his fingers over the coin. “This one is yours.”

  He drew her into his arms. “I’m yours, Indy. I’ve always been yours. And I swear to you that I will love you faithfully until the day I die.”

  His eyes were the same color as the coin she held and just as polished with hope and promise.

  The most beautiful sight she’d ever seen.

  “Do you remember the day you gave this to me?” he asked.

  “Like it was yesterday.”

  “We lay down together, with our heads touching, and we talked about our dreams.”

  “It was such a perfect day, until it all went straight to hell.”

  He kissed her, or perhaps she kissed him. All she knew was that their lips met somewhere in the middle.

  She stretched out on the velvet divan and he covered her with his body.

  Her heart beat against his chest. He was so solid and rooted and strong.

  This exchange of strength was such a gift. To give and receive. To open her heart. To allow herself to feel. And to know she never had to carry her burdens alone again.

  “I love you,” she whispered in his ear as he kissed the sensitive hollow at the base of her throat.

  “I love you,” he responded. “I want to help make all your dreams come true.”

  Epilogue

  A few weeks later . . .

  “Gentleman, please come to order,” called Sir Malcolm.

  The assembled antiquarians took their seats and quieted.

  “Our esteemed Fellow, the Duke of Ravenwood, has been given permission to take the floor. Your Grace.”

  Raven walked to the front of the room and stood next to Sir Malcolm’s desk. “Gentlemen, I am mounting an archaeological expedition this month in search of a priceless treasure, the nature of which I am not at liberty to divulge at the moment. I move that the society fully support this venture and agree to publish any findings. My partner in this venture will be Mr. Pomeroy.”

  Indy swaggered across the room wearing those figure-hugging breeches and that ridiculous moustache. It was all he could do not to ravish her on the central table.

  “Hear hear!” shouted the members.

  Indy stopped in the front of the room and threw her hand into the air. “There’s only one small problem with this scenario, gentlemen. Mr. Pomeroy is a female.”

  She ripped off her moustache.

  Raven grinned. He’d guessed she was going to do that.

  The gentleman rioted. Literally leapt from their chairs and started pounding the floor with their canes and shouting bloody murder.

  “Order, order,” shouted Sir Malcolm. “What is the meaning of this, Ravenwood?”

  Raven had to yell to be heard over the hubbub. “I would further move to allow the inclusion of females into the Society of Antiquaries. My fiancée, Lady India Rochester, who stands before you in male garb, has made more important discoveries than most of you in this room put together.”

  If the gentlemen rioted and began to attack them, that wouldn’t be a problem. He caught Indy’s eye. They’d defend themselves handily.

  “The duke has so moved,” shouted Sir Malcolm. “All in favor say aye.”

  Raven said a loud aye over a deafening chorus of nays and indignant protests. He’d heard only one other aye. He caught his friend Westbury’s eye and winked.

  “I’m disappointed in you, gentlemen,” declared Indy, her voice cutting through the ruckus.

  “Gentlemen, I hereby resign from the Society of Antiquaries. Please accept my letter of resignation, Sir Malcolm.”

  “Resignation accepted.”

  “Furthermore,” shouted Raven. “I will be accompanying Lady India on her next archaeological expedition as her assistant.”

  The room fell silent for one ominous moment, and then erupted again.

  “A duke as a lady’s assistant!”

  “It’s anarchy.”

  “What’s the world coming to?”

  “It’s an outrage.

  Indy grinned at him. “I think we should leave,” she mouthed.

  The jeers and shouting followed them out of the room but Raven and Indy didn’t care. They clasped hands and ran out the front door, giggling like schoolchildren.

  They tumbled into the street and started running.

  Raven tugged her to a stop in order to back her up against a wall and kiss her.

  Passersby stared in shock. He didn’t care what it looked like. He’d kiss Indy wherever and whenever he pleased, male clothing be damned!

  “I’ll have you know that was a treasure hunting-kiss,” Raven growled.

  “The world’s not ready for us yet, Raven,” said Indy, breathless and flushed.

  Gods, how he loved making her breathless.

  “But someday, someone will read our story,” she said, her eyes sparkling like diamonds. “And we won’t seem so very wild and wicked.”

  “We won’t?”

  “Don’t be disappointed. You’ll always be wicked to me.” She kissed the corner of his mouth. “My wicked rogue. The one who stole my heart and never returned it to me.”

  Author’s Note

  To this day, the lost tomb Cleopatra, one of the greatest prizes in archaeology, has never been discovered. I found the inspiration for Indy’s quest when I read an article about maverick Dominican archaeologist Kathleen Martinez. Her search to uncover Cleopatra’s burial place continues today. Best of luck, Ms. Martinez!

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to my agent, Alexandra Machinist, for believing in me, and to my editor, Carrie Feron, whose expert guidance illuminates my path. I’m so grateful to the entire team at Avon Books, especially Pam Jaffee, Carolyn Coons, and Jes Lyons. I’m blessed with the best beta readers a girl could ever have—Neile and Rachel, thanks for having my back.

  A lovely reader recently wrote to tell me that she felt like I had given her “a hug in book form.” This is why I’m writing romance n
ovels. And so, to you: readers, bloggers, reviewers, librarians, and booksellers . . . all my thanks and a big, bookish hug!

  About the Author

  LENORA BELL is a USA Today bestselling, award-winning author of historical romances. She grew up in a small Alaskan town that still has no traffic lights, and she blames those long, dark winters for turning her into a lifelong bookworm. She has lived and worked on five continents but can currently be found in an old farmhouse in the Pacific Northwest with her carpenter husband and two tiger-striped rescue kitties.

  www.lenorabell.com

  www.avonromance.com

  www.facebook.com/avonromance

  Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.

  By Lenora Bell

  For the Duke's Eyes Only

  What a Difference a Duke Makes

  Blame it on the Duke

  If I Only Had a Duke

  How the Duke Was Won

  Coming Soon

  One Fine Duke

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  for the duke’s eyes only. Copyright © 2018 by Lenora Bell. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable 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 hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins Publishers. For information, address HarperCollins Publishers, 195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007.