by Darcy Burke
She couldn’t keep from scowling. “I feel like such a fool.”
“Don’t chastise yourself. There’s no point. He was very smart about it. He stole enough to accumulate a tidy sum after all these years, but it was little bits at a time. You couldn’t have known unless you’d acted as steward right alongside him.”
“I should have performed an audit, as you’ve done.”
“This is not your fault. I won’t allow you to blame yourself.”
She arched a brow at him. “You won’t allow me?”
He flashed a grin, and she thought this might be her favorite. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and his straight white teeth showed for a brief moment. It was an infectious smile, and she found her lips curving up of their own volition.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I only meant to demonstrate my strong preference that you not castigate yourself. Please.”
“I’ll try.”
“This is entirely on Cuddy. Though I would like to ask about your father’s involvement.”
Her gaze snapped to his. “What do you mean?”
“You said it seemed as though Cuddy worked for him. Why did you think that? Was it because he encouraged me to hire him?”
“In part, yes. My father visits at least once a year, and they spend a great deal of time together when he’s here.”
Rufus nodded slowly. “And do you recall how your father knew of Cuddy? I’m afraid I don’t remember the connection or if there was one.” He winced apologetically.
“I don’t recall. I wasn’t invited to participate in estate matters before you disappeared. But it seems you may not recall that either.”
He looked away as a bit of color flashed briefly across his cheekbones. She might have attributed it to anger if he were the old Rufus. But this looked more like embarrassment.
“I must apologize profusely for my behavior…before.” He looked back at her, his eyes brilliant with candor. “I can’t make you forget, but please know that I’ve worked very hard to. In fact, I’ve done such a thorough job of it that I sometimes struggle to remember things.”
Or you aren’t actually Rufus.
That voice in the back of her mind was growing stronger despite her desire to silence it—at least for now. Some day soon, she might not be able to ignore it any longer. However, for now, she was content to keep things as they were, particularly given his devotion to Beau and to taking care of the estate. Which included getting to the bottom of Cuddy’s theft.
“Do you think my father was involved with Cuddy’s embezzlement?” Verity asked.
“I don’t know. I only want to learn as much as I can about Cuddy.”
“Should we invite my father here?” She couldn’t think of anyone she wanted to invite less.
Rufus arched a sandy brow at her. “You don’t sound as if you want to.”
“We don’t have a very good relationship, but perhaps you remember that.” Apparently, she was going to play that game tonight, for she’d decided to push him, to see what he might reveal.
“Vaguely,” he said, shifting his gaze to the hearth. “I’m sorry you aren’t close.”
She wanted to push a little harder. “Really? It never bothered you before. You and my father were quite close. I would even say he preferred you to me, despite only knowing you a handful of months.”
Registering the flare of his nostrils and the slight widening of his eyes, she suffered a moment’s panic. She’d overstepped. Was now the moment she’d feared? Would he finally reveal the anger he’d kept buried since he’d returned?
“I’m… I don’t know what to say.” He took a long drink of whiskey, nearly draining the glass. He fixed his gaze on hers with piercing intent. “I know I keep saying this, but I’m not the man I was before. I can’t change the past, but I swear that I only want the safety and security of you, Beau, and everyone at Beaumont Tower. I’ll make sure your father doesn’t meddle. You have my word on it.”
His word. Rufus’s word had meant nothing. But this man’s word—and she was more sure than ever that he was someone else—was something quite different. Rufus would have defended her father. No, he would have gone further than that.
She took a deep gulp of sherry to calm the anxiety that started to swirl in her gut. Would she ever be able to think of him—of the man she’d married—without feeling powerless and afraid?
Maybe if she knew this man—the man she hadn’t married—would keep her safe. Which he could if she’d allow it. Or maybe that wasn’t even necessary. He didn’t seem to require her permission. He would give her his protection whether she wanted it or not.
Warmth spread through her, and she was quick to credit her sherry instead of the man sitting nearby.
“Will you tell the authorities about Cuddy?” she asked.
“If I must, but first I’ll give him the chance to return what he stole.”
“That has to be quite a bit over six and a half years. Will he be able to do that?”
Rufus shrugged, and his eyes took on a frosty sheen that made her shiver. “I don’t care. He’ll pay one way or another.” He finished his whiskey and redirected his attention to the dying fire.
His statement and the ominous manner in which he’d made it prompted Verity to drink the remainder of her sherry. She was suddenly eager to put an end to this interlude, despite the fact that she’d enjoyed it. For the first time, she glimpsed the possibility that this man might possess a darker nature—or at least the capacity for darkness.
“Fire is so treacherous,” he said. “It draws us in with its warmth and beauty, but it can wreak total devastation.”
She puzzled at the direction of his thoughts but didn’t question him.
“Water is more beautiful, though. The ocean has a quiet cadence and a serenity that can calm even the wildest of things.” One corner of his mouth ticked up. “The most beautiful is when the fire meets the water—a perfect burning sun setting into a wide, cool sea.” He turned his gaze to hers, and the intensity in the green depths of his eyes captivated her. “None of that compares to you, however. You’re beyond beautiful. You exist in that space near perfection—for nothing is truly perfect—where wonder and joy convene.”
His words enthralled her, obliterating her discomfort of a moment before. No one had ever spoken to her like that. “You should write that down.” Her words came out low and soft, and it was a silly thing to say, but she meant it.
“Maybe I will.” His lips curved up again in that charming half smile, and she was confident that was her favorite.
They were all her favorite.
“Papa?”
They both turned at the sound of Beau’s voice.
Verity leapt up and crossed the room to him. “What is it, my sweet boy?”
Rufus joined them, sweeping Beau up into his arms. “Can’t sleep?”
Beau shook his head. “My tummy hurts.”
Verity wanted to take him from Rufus, but Beau had laid his head on his father’s shoulder. She moved around behind him and smoothed Beau’s hair from his forehead. His temperature felt fine, and she exhaled with relief. “Do you want to sleep with me?”
“Can I sleep with Papa?” His lids were heavy, and though she wanted him with her, she wouldn’t say no.
“Of course.” Her heart clenched, and she wished she shared a bed with Rufus. Then Beau wouldn’t have to choose. Not that it had seemed much of a choice. She hated the feeling of being usurped by this man who probably wasn’t even Beau’s blood. But what could she say?
In truth, she didn’t want to say anything. She couldn’t bring herself to diminish the bond that had sprung up between them, not when Beau was so happy. His happiness was everything.
Beau’s eyes closed, and Rufus’s gaze found hers. “I can bring him to your room if you prefer,” he whispered. “He won’t know. He’s already asleep.”
She shook her head. “No. You take him.” She smiled softly, appreciating his thoughtfulness so much. “Thank you.” F
or caring for her son. For being gracious. For abdicating to her wishes.
For being exactly what they needed.
He returned her smile, then carried Beau from the room.
As she collected their glasses and put them on the sideboard in the drawing room, she began to believe their future wasn’t in jeopardy. She wanted so badly to believe that. So right now, in this moment, she would.
Kit stood with Verity just outside the entrance tower and waved to the departing coach, which carried the Duke and Duchess of Romsey. The past week had been far more enjoyable than Kit had imagined. Indeed, it had given him a sense of connection and belonging, which was making it damn hard to contemplate his escape plan. That had become especially daunting after the evening they’d spent two nights ago, sharing drinks and planning his office. They’d both dropped their guards, and he’d felt as if he’d come to know her much better.
At the same time, he couldn’t ignore the disaster that would likely come if he stayed. He’d come precariously close to revealing his own secrets when the topic of her father had arisen. He’d nearly cocked everything up by not knowing a thing about the relationships between her and him, as well as him and her father. Apparently they’d been close, which was a bloody nuisance and would likely cause a problem if the man decided to show up. Hopefully, he wouldn’t, at least not while Kit was still here. Kit did find himself wondering, however, why the man hadn’t at least written, if not shown up—if they were as close as Verity thought them to be.
Over the past couple of days, Kit had worked to uncover as much information as he could using strategic discourse with various members of the staff. He’d learned that Verity’s mother had died at least a decade ago, that her father lived in London, and that the prior duke—Kit’s real father—had died a month after the nuptials. He’d been in decline after the death of his legitimate son the previous fall and had taken a turn for the worse. Finally, Kit had ascertained that Verity and his father had become close despite the brevity of their acquaintance. He longed to ask her about him, but since he—as Rufus—had supposedly been there, he could not. In some ways, this ruse was growing quite tiresome.
Verity expelled a small sound, something between a sigh and an expression of regret. Tiny lines crossed her forehead, and her lips were twisted into a slight frown.
“You’re going to miss them,” he said, perhaps unnecessarily. Her disappointment was evident and possibly something she preferred not to discuss.
“So much. I love Beaumont Tower, but sometimes I wish we lived somewhere farther south.”
They’d made a promise to visit Lyndhurst later this summer, a pledge Kit knew he wouldn’t keep. It stuck in his chest, making him mildly uncomfortable. He really was the Duke of Lies. They fell from his mouth like blossoms drifting from the trees, only they weren’t pretty. With each one, he felt a sinking sense of defeat, as if he were losing a battle. But for what? Morality? Self-respect? Decency?
All those things and much more. This was beyond difficult because he liked Verity and Beau. No, he loved Beau. That much he could admit to himself. The boy had entrusted him with his care so effortlessly and so completely. The love of a child was truly unconditional. However, Kit knew that he could break the boy’s heart in a moment, and the day would come when he would.
Pain pierced his chest, and he sought to find a way to ease the ache. Perhaps he could ease her melancholy too. He turned to her. “Come with me into Blackburn. I want to tour a spinning mill, and then we can stop at a pub. One of the grooms told me that Cuddy frequents the Sheep’s Head, and I want to see if he’s still in the vicinity.” Because one of the grooms had taken him into town, Kit knew precisely where Cuddy was lodging—assuming he was still there.
He suddenly regretted inviting her. What if Cuddy was there? He couldn’t very well confront him in front of Verity. If things turned sour, he didn’t want her anywhere in the vicinity. But it was too late to rescind his offer, and what’s more, he didn’t want to.
She pivoted, her dark gaze reflecting surprise and just a touch of wariness. She’d all but become used to him—or so it seemed. Two nights ago, he’d glimpsed what their relationship might have been like. If he’d been the duke and married her. He’d wanted the title for so long, had been bitterly disappointed to know it would never be his, and now he found himself wanting it for an entirely different reason. For her.
“That sounds delightful,” she said. “I’ll just go and get ready. Shall I meet you in the stable yard?”
“I’ll be waiting.” He gave her a smile that faded from his mouth as soon as she turned her back and went into the courtyard.
Oh, this was going to end in disaster. He should leave now. But no, first he had to find Cuddy and recover what he’d stolen. Then he’d go.
Who the hell was he fooling? That would be a disaster too. There was just no way this would end well, at least not for him. Verity and Beau would continue on as they had before he’d come. This would be a brief interlude that would fade from their memory, especially for Beau since he was so young. Kit wasn’t entirely sure he believed that, but he would cling to it nonetheless. He didn’t have any other choice. This was never going to be a permanent situation. Even now, his body ached for the rhythm of the sea.
Perhaps he should go there instead of Blackburn. The coast was a day’s ride, and he’d have to spend the night. He feared he wouldn’t want to come back, and he had to. There was business to be finished. In Blackburn, he would work to track down Cuddy as well as investigate the spinning mill. He was going to leave the estate better than he found it—that was one pledge he would keep.
A quarter hour later, they set out in the chaise toward town. Kit hadn’t spent much time driving vehicles, but he’d tried his hand in recent days, asking Simon to drive so that he could watch and learn. It had been an effective scheme, for now he was able to drive the chaise with enough confidence so as not to attract attention.
It wasn’t easy pretending to be a duke.
They arrived at the spinning mill and were given a tour. It might not be easy being a duke, but it was damn convenient. People gave you whatever you wanted and treated you with reverence. It was a bit like being captain of a ship, which Kit missed. In this way, he appreciated his current role. He also found the workings of the mill fascinating and was inspired to build one on the estate.
They left the mill, and he escorted Verity into the chaise, where she climbed in easily. He regretted his choice of vehicle since it didn’t require him to assist her. He rarely had occasion to touch her, and he found himself starving for the next time.
The other night, he’d wanted to sit next to her on the settee, but had seen the hesitation in her eyes and decided it best not to make her uncomfortable.
He settled into the chaise beside her and drove into the center of town. The pub he wanted to visit was just ahead, but he now wondered if it was perhaps a shade too disreputable for Verity. “I’d planned to go to The Sheep’s Head, but I don’t think that’s the best place for a duchess.”
“Is that the place Cuddy visits?” she asked, studying the run-down pub as they approached.
“Yes.” Damn, he should have brought a coach so that he could leave her. “I can return another day.”
“No, that’s silly. I’ll go to the draper. It’s just around the corner.” She gestured to the side of the street opposite the Sheep’s Head. “Drop me off there, and you can fetch me when you’re finished.”
He hesitated to leave her alone but admitted to himself that this was a matter of propriety with which he had no experience. “Are you certain?”
“Of course,” she said blithely, with a wave of her hand.
He turned the corner and, when he saw the draper, brought the chaise to a halt in front of the store. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Take as long as you need.” She climbed out of the chaise. “It’s important to track down Cuddy. I look forward to your report.” Her mouth lifted in a faint smile bef
ore she turned and disappeared into the store.
Kit didn’t leave immediately as he still pondered the wisdom in leaving her here. But perhaps he was being foolish. She’d said it was fine, and really, what did he know?
He drove the chaise back around the street to the pub. He found a place to leave the chaise that was somewhat equidistant from the pub and the draper. After informing the horse, unnecessarily, that he’d be back shortly, he walked briskly into the pub.
Scanning the dim interior, he registered ten or twelve patrons scattered about. The bar was at the back of the establishment, and a barkeep stood behind the scuffed plank of wood.
Kit went to the bar and greeted the man with a firm nod. “I’m in search of Mr. Strader. I understand he patronizes your establishment.”
“He does. Bit early for him, though.”
Withdrawing a coin from his pocket, Kit slid it across the wood to the barkeep. “Is he still lodging at the east end of town?”
The man picked up the coin and stashed it in his pocket. “As far as I know.” His gaze dipped over Kit. “You want an ale, or are you just being nosy?”
Kit flashed a smile and offered two more coins. “Does he come in every night?”
“Aye, for dinner. Then stays until I throw him out, usually.” He shrugged. “Always has plenty of blunt, so I don’t mind.”
“Thank you for your help.” Kit turned and walked out into the dappled sunlight filtering through the clouds, making his way toward the draper. He didn’t dare chance driving by Cuddy’s lodging, not with Verity. He’d come back one night soon. Knowing Cuddy spent his nights at the Sheep’s Head gave Kit the idea to go to the man’s lodging and search it while he was out. Perhaps he could recover some of the money he’d stolen. Kit doubted he’d get the lot, not after all this time, particularly since it sounded as though Cuddy liked to spend it.
Kit walked into the draper, his heart beating faster than it ought, and searched for Verity. It wasn’t a terribly large store, and when he didn’t see her, his pulse picked up more speed. The storekeeper, a slender fellow with a broad smile, came to greet him. “Good afternoon.” His gaze flickered with surprise and then recognition. “Your Grace, you must be looking for Her Grace. She’s just in the back salon, perusing furniture in Ackermann’s Repository.” He turned, indicating that Kit should follow him.