Misleading a Duke

by A. S. Fenichel

  Rumple whined and crawled under the settee. The puppy’s youth didn’t mean he was stupid. He kept his distance from Francis Drake.

  Always droll and seemingly relaxed, Drake sauntered in and sat on the chair Nick had just used for support. Black breeches and a ruby coat were part of the gentlemanly façade he used to fool the politicians. “Might I not have just come to see how you are recovering from your episode?”

  Nick crossed his arms over his chest. The scars on his back pulled but did not pain him. “No. I’m afraid that I cannot believe.”

  A slow smile spread across Drake’s face. He fussed with the elaborate knot in his cravat. “Humor me.” He pointed to the other chair near the hearth.

  Nick sat. “I’m recovering nicely. Most of my wounds have healed, though I shall never be as pretty as I once was.” He pointed to the red scar showing from his ear down to his collar, since he was in only breeches and a blouse.

  “Ladies love a few scars. I’m told it was Fouché who led these men.” Drake inspected his hand as if he’d not seen it before.

  “Fouché is in charge of most of Napoleon’s policing operations. This may have been a personal matter for them, but he is still in charge.” Nick tried to speculate over what Drake’s visit might be about, but he couldn’t guess.

  With a long sigh, Drake leaned back and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Does Fouché actually keep a list of royalists?”

  It was starting to come clearer. “It’s more of a catalog. But yes, he is rather obsessed with his record keeping.”

  “Do you think you might know where he keeps that information?” Drake remained relaxed, but the intensity in his eyes told a different story.

  Warning bells rang in Nick’s ears and he kept his answer cautious but honest. “Not exactly.”

  In a flash, Drake sat forward. “But in general, you know. Could you find them and bring them to me?”

  Nick sighed. “I don’t know, Drake. I don’t do that kind of work anymore. Isn’t the list of French spies here in England enough to satisfy you? It was my last assignment. I realize it took some time to finish, but it is done now.”

  “We have arrested several from the list and watch the rest. You have been quite valuable, Your Grace.”

  “But…” Nick pushed for the rest of this mess.

  “But His Majesty realizes you have access to things that no one else does. You could give England the advantage in this war.”

  “His Majesty called me home, told me to take care of my lands and thanked me for a job well done. I have retired from your service.” Nick stood and walked to the window. It had gotten warmer and the snow was melting, making everything shiny in the garden.

  Faith would love how pretty it looked. Until today, she had filled his mind. He’d tried several times to write her a letter, but couldn’t find the words. How could he tell her to forgive him the unforgivable?

  “Now you are needed again.” Drake stood, his hands fisted at his sides.

  Nick shook his head, wishing he’d never agreed to go to France in the first place. “I don’t know if I can do what you ask. I still need to heal and would find it difficult to ride a horse at this point. Also, I would have to do some research as to where Joseph actually keeps his data.”

  “You should wait for spring.” Drake’s smile said he’d won. “No one expects you to cross the Channel in winter.”

  This was almost as much of a nightmare as the ones he endured every night when he closed his eyes. “I make you no promises. If I cannot gain a more specific location, I’ll not risk meeting Joseph Fouché again and this time on his soil. It’s not as if he and I are still friends. He came here to torture and kill me. The moment I am discovered in France, I will be arrested.”

  “Then I would suggest you use all of your skills and not be seen.” Drake walked to the door. “I will be joining you for dinner. I shall leave in the morning. Have someone show me to the guest room.”

  As arrogant as usual. Nick longed to punch Francis Drake in his imperious nose. Instead, he pulled the cord and asked Kosey to see to Drake’s comfort.

  Once Drake was upstairs, Nick pulled on his overcoat, put Rumple’s leash on the puppy and went out to the garden. The icy snow crunched under their feet. He tried to keep to the path, but it was difficult to know where the stones lay beneath layers of winter.

  Rumple sniffed every bump in the snow and did his business on several.

  Halfway to the hothouse, the footsteps behind him alerted him that he was not alone. Turning brought him face-to-face with a frowning Geb. “You heard, I assume.”

  Happy barking followed until Geb petted the puppy.

  “I’m a man who makes my living on information. Of course, I heard. Are you mad to not have told that fool no?” Geb kept his voice low, but there was no mistaking his anger.

  Nick nodded toward the hothouse and they walked in silence until they were inside with the door closed.

  Unleashing Rumple sent the bundle of fur scampering through the plants and trees.

  Warmth and roses assaulted Nick’s senses and brought thoughts of Faith to the forefront. He’d held her and kissed her for the first time in this place. The way she’d let him see parts of herself, who she was and why she reacted to things the way she did, had made him love her.

  Nick closed his eyes. Lord, but he did love her.

  He shook away the things he wanted to think about and turned to Geb. “I know where Joseph keeps his books. I have seen them.”

  “Is that worth your life? You will be discovered if you return to Paris,” Geb warned.

  Nick paced the open center of the hothouse. “They’re not in Paris, and I suspect Joseph is nowhere near where they are hidden. He will likely be in Spain or Portugal, gaining intelligence and trying to learn when the English troops will invade.”

  “And the books?” Geb’s eyes flashed with curiosity and possibility.

  Shaking his head, Nick said, “It’s safer if I keep it to myself.”

  “If you don’t return, where will I look for you?” Geb threw his arms wide.

  Nick slapped Geb on the back. “I will get word to you after I go. This way no one can try to glean my whereabouts from you.”

  Nodding, Geb accepted the response. “Why did you lie to Drake?”

  “It wasn’t all a lie. I’m several months away from riding for my life.”

  Rumple reappeared and jumped on Nick’s leg.

  He scooped the puppy into his arms. “Also, I have an errand to run before I leave England, and it will take a few weeks.”

  “I see,” Geb said, grinning.

  “Tell me I’m not a fool, old friend.” Nick lifted his chin to avoid Rumple’s amorous tongue.

  A low laugh filled the hothouse. Geb said, “Where women are concerned, we are all fools, Nicholas. She is worth becoming a fool over.”

  In his daydreams she was standing a few feet away in a white dress and smiling up at him. If only he could rid himself of the nightmares that kept him up, he could believe Faith could be his. “She is worth everything.”

  Chapter 16

  The Dowager Countess of Radcliff’s Townhouse

  West Lane, London

  Faith mindlessly sipped her tea. It was too hot in the parlor with the fire blazing in the hearth. Outside it had rained for several days and the snow was all washed away. Nothing felt as it should; uncomfortable in the room as she was uncomfortable in her skin. That white carpet of snow had connected her somehow to the snow at Parvus, and Nick. Now that it was gone and so many months had passed without a word, she was resigned to never see him again.

  Her chest ached with her broken heart.

  “Are you listening, Faith?” Mercy said, putting aside the newspaper and her spectacles.

  “I’m sorry. What were you saying?” Faith hadn’t even known someon
e was speaking. She was lost in her regrets.

  Mercy slid her legs out from under her on the chaise and sat forward with her willowy grace, studying Faith. “I was reading the account of the duel between Lord Grandville and Sir Edward Longbottom. The question is, where were you?”

  “I’m right here. I was just woolgathering.” Faith put her cold tea on the table and sat back on the settee.

  Rhys was the only man in the room. He had become part of the Wallflowers the year before during the investigation of Nick, which had begun it all. Of course, as Aurora’s brother and now Poppy’s husband, his acceptance was inevitable. “You have been doing a lot of that lately, Faith.”

  “I suppose that’s true.” The sun poked out from the clouds and Faith stared out the window again.

  “Faith?” Aurora brought her attention back to the group. “Do you want to talk about what happened at Parvus?”

  A shiver ran up Faith’s spine. “I’ve already told you about the spies and the horrors that followed. I don’t see the point in rehashing the entire ordeal again.”

  Poppy moved away from Rhys. Her dark hair was perfectly tame in a chignon. She stumbled on the rug, but righted herself before Rhys could catch her. Shrugging off her clumsiness, she sat next to Faith and took her hand. “Perhaps if you keep talking about it, you’ll be able to let it go and not feel so haunted by the memories.”

  Faith squeezed Poppy’s hand. “I’m fine. The nightmares are few now. My mind is not occupied with anything terrible.”

  “What then?” Mercy asked.

  She just had to forget him. If he’d wanted her, he’d have called by now. “It’s nothing.”

  Leaning his elbows on his knees pulled Rhys to the edge of his seat. “Why don’t you just write to him if you still want him, or call off the engagement if you don’t, Faith? This waiting and hoping will do neither of you any good.”

  “I’m not waiting,” she lied. “I should call off. I had hoped, but it doesn’t matter. Mother will eventually find someone else she thinks will suit, and I will have a perfectly amiable marriage.” It sounded calm coming from her lips, but inside she died a little.

  “Sounds dreadful,” Mercy said under her breath, but everyone heard.

  It was impossible to argue. It did sound only slightly better than the abusive marriage Aurora had endured. The idea of marrying someone other than Nick, made Faith’s stomach churn. It was out of her hands. Best to change the subject and move on. “So, what did the paper say about the duel?”

  They all peered at her with pity.

  Faith wanted to run screaming to her room upstairs. Sometimes it was not a blessing to have her friends know her so well.

  Mercy picked the paper up and put her spectacles on.

  The knocker sounded from the front door.

  “Who could that be?” Aurora cocked her head.

  A moment later, the butler, Tipton, entered with a silver tray. Always stoic and sedate, Tipton gave Faith an odd glare. His brown eyes twinkled and he offered the card to Aurora. “My lady, the Duke of Breckenridge is waiting in the foyer.”

  Faith’s pulse tripled and she had trouble catching her breath. Hand on her chest, a sound that might be described as a squealing cat caught under the leg of a chair pushed from her mouth. She stood, but then sat. “Oh my.”

  Poppy put her arm around her. “Breathe, Faith. This is no time to faint.”

  In her countess voice, Aurora said, “Tipton, you may send His Grace in, but go about it slowly, please.”

  With a bow, Tipton walked back to the door and paused before exiting.

  Breathing slowly to keep her head from swimming, Faith didn’t know if she wanted to jump for joy or run and hide. He was in the house. Soon he would be in the room. Her breath came too fast.

  Poppy rubbed her back. “Slow down, Faith.”

  Gulping air, but more slowly, she put on the mask of indifference. It was taught to every young lady of breeding from the time they were three, and the Wallflowers had all mastered it.

  Mercy stood. “Do you want us to stay or go, Faith? I’m certain he has not come to see any of us.”

  Unable to think of what she wanted or what to do, she just stared at her hands until the door opened and Tipton announced, “The Duke of Breckenridge.” Everyone stood, and Poppy lifted Faith with her.

  Faith’s legs shook and she prayed the full skirt of her yellow day dress would hide the shimmy. If she didn’t look at him, she could make it through this.

  “How do you do, Your Grace. What a nice surprise to see you, and looking so well.” Aurora always knew how to act in any situation.

  “I’m sorry to call without an invitation, Lady Radcliff. I hope I am not intruding. I admit, I knew that Tuesdays are your special day for tea. I used that knowledge to ensure Lady Faith would be at home.” His deep, rounded voice cut through the heart of her.

  Faith finally met his gaze.

  No sign of pain lurked in those bright blue eyes when they locked with hers. His brown hair was longer and combed away from his face. It curled at his collar. The hint of a red scar ran from below his ear to his neckcloth, but he stood straight and tall. His lips turned up in the hint of a smile.

  On a short leash at his side, a much larger Rumple barked and squirmed. The puppy was as tall as Nick’s knees, but hopped around in obvious recognition of Faith.

  “Sit,” Nick commanded.

  Rumple obeyed, but one paw lifted, ready to jump at the first sign of release.

  Suddenly all her fears and worries didn’t matter. This was Nick and he knew her. He likely saw right through her nervousness because she could see his in the tight grip of his hand on the leash and tick in his jaw. “Would you all please excuse us? I would like a few minutes with His Grace alone.”

  Without a word, all four of her friends made a line toward the door. The ladies curtsied as they passed Nick. Rhys shook his hand and then they were gone.

  They stared across the parlor at each other.

  Faith didn’t know what to say, and her brain had taken leave.

  Recovering first, Nick said, “Shall I release him? He’s been anxious to see you.” He pointed to Rumple.

  The puppy was dancing on all four feet, not wanting to disappoint Nick, but certainly ready to get to her. His white fur had started to curl and his dark brown eyes lit with excitement while his tail whipped back and forth gleefully.

  No words would come, so she nodded.

  Nick pulled the leash over Rumple’s head and the dog bounded across the room and into Faith’s waiting arms. He licked her chin and jumped on her until she had to sit in order to keep from being knocked down.

  “Rumple, no.”

  The puppy sat and put his nose on Faith’s knee. He contemplated her with the sweetest eyes.

  She scratched behind his ears, noting how his spots had darkened. “He’s grown.”

  Still standing near the door, Nick said, “Jamie was keen on feeding him often.”

  Suddenly shy, she bit the inside of her cheek and focused on Rumple. “And is everyone at Parvus well?”

  “Yes, Faith, and they all send you regards.”

  She could hardly form words. “And you, Nick? Are you well?”

  His smile was slow and slightly sad. “I am mostly healed, though the scars will remain.”

  She wanted to know more, but she nodded. “Would you care to sit? I can call for tea.”

  Never taking his gaze from hers, he crossed and sat beside her on the settee. “I do not require tea. I just…”

  “Yes?” She longed to hear what he wanted, needed.

  “I arrived back in London yesterday.” He took her hand and kissed the back.

  Rumple sighed and lay down on Faith’s feet.

  “I’m surprised you stayed at Parvus so long.” She suppressed her thoughts of his
coming immediately to see her, but it was gratifying.

  “I needed time, and the weather has not been good for travel.”

  Worry overrode anything else. “But you are healed?”

  “The scars remain.” His neck turned red and his free hand fisted on his leg. Even so, he again kissed her hand slowly and deliberately.

  She couldn’t imagine why he kept mentioning his scars. He was alive and sitting in the West Lane parlor. “You didn’t write.”

  She was mesmerized by the way his lips moved as he kissed her skin. The sensation of how he had touched her at Parvus filled her.

  “I tried many times, but I didn’t know what to say, how to say it. I put you in so much danger and you…” He let her hand go, took several breaths.

  “I what?” Had she hurt him? She hadn’t thought so. “Whatever it is I’ve done, you must forgive me.”

  Nick closed his eyes.

  Emotion swam in Faith’s eyes, blurring her vision. She dabbed it away, not wanting to miss any part of seeing Nick.

  A muscle in his jaw ticked. “You should never be sorry. You saved my life. I would not have survived had you not cared for me and protected me. More than that, if you had not been my strength that last day, I could not have managed. I owe you everything.”

  “You owe me nothing. I did so little and you suffered for us both.” The memory of his pain seared within her.

  “I came today to return Rumple to his rightful owner and to ask a favor.” Nick’s voice took on a formal tone.

  Faith didn’t want him to leave, and she feared once he asked his favor, he would walk out of the house and she would never see him again. “Thank you for bringing the puppy. I hope he was a comfort to you. I’m glad to see you looking so well. Do you think we might just sit here for a time before you say whatever it is you came to say?”

  He cocked his head. “We can do whatever you wish, sweetheart.”

  Faith sighed at the sound of the endearment. Sidling closer, she leaned into him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, took up her hand with his other, and leaned them back against the cushion.