The Duke of Lies (The Untouchables Book 9)

by Darcy Burke

  She clasped her hands together and hoped he couldn’t see her mild tremors. “I wanted to, but I find I’m feeling differently about Kit now. I see he was using me, and that I subjected Beau to his machinations.” These lies came easily as she worked to ensnare her father.

  “That’s right. I’m so sorry.” Except nothing about his supercilious demeanor supported that sentiment.

  “Still, I don’t want him to hang. I don’t think he killed Rufus—why would he wait six and a half years to return and claim the title?”

  Her father seemed to contemplate that for a moment. “I’ve wondered that too, but I doubt we’ll ever know why. He won’t ever tell the truth anyway. I’m so glad you’ve come to your senses. Now that we’ve put that horrid matter behind us, let us speak of the future.”

  She couldn’t pretend she didn’t know about his request for funds—not after the response Kit had sent to him yesterday. “You want to know if I’ll provide you with an allowance from the estate.”

  “It’s only fair, my dear. How am I supposed to live?”

  Within your means would be a good start. She forced a smile so brittle, she felt her face might break. “Yes, well, I do think you could perhaps curb your expenditures somewhat. The money you siphoned from the estate was greatly missed, and many things were ignored over the past seven years since you talked Rufus into hiring Cuddy.”

  His eyes narrowed, and Verity knew she was treading close to the edge. “Rufus was more than happy to take my counsel. And allot me funds. He gave me an allowance.”

  “Did he? Unfortunately, I was not aware of his arrangements.”

  He sniffed. “I suppose I could take a bit less than I do now.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean by a bit, but I’ll pay you the amount in Cuddy’s ledger that was entered beside the sideways cross.”

  He coughed and shook his head. “No, no, that’s not nearly enough. That will barely satisfy my…creditors.”

  She tipped her head to the side and plunged ahead with audacity. “I did wonder what those amounts were for. The CS was for Cuddy, obviously, but I’m confounded as to the other two. Presumably one of them was what he paid to you?”

  He smiled broadly and waved his hand. “Never mind that now. It doesn’t matter. If you’ll just pay me twice the amount as the sideways cross, that will be fine.”

  She frowned. “That may be a strain. I’ll need to speak with Thomas.”

  Her father leaned forward, his lip curling. “I require that amount, Verity. If you want me to try to keep the imposter from hanging, you’ll need to agree to that.”

  She blinked at him, adopting an air of naïvete. “Could you do that? Then I suppose I must agree to your terms. Thank you, Father.”

  She glanced at the clock, thinking they hadn’t had nearly enough time. How could she keep him occupied? Standing abruptly, she gave him a bland smile that hopefully disguised her hatred. “I think I require some cheer to improve my mood. I know how much you like to shop. Shall we go to Bond Street?”

  He stared at her. “You wish to shop. With me.”

  “Unless you’d rather not. I’d like to find something special to surprise Beau. I’d invite him to come with us, but he is with his tutor. I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t interrupt him to come down to see you.” She didn’t think her father would care one way or the other, and she didn’t want Beau in his presence ever again.

  “I’m just surprised.” He rose from the chair and smoothed his coat. “We can take my chaise.”

  She bit her tongue before she could ask what else Beaumont Tower had purchased for him. “Splendid. I’ll just fetch my hat and gloves and meet you in the entry hall.” She swept from the drawing room and hurried upstairs, where she found Diana and quickly told her what had transpired.

  “I’ll have them find you on Bond Street when they’ve finished,” Diana said. “Don’t worry about Beau,” she said softly, casting her gaze at where he sat drawing a picture. “I’ll take good care of him.”

  Verity touched her hand. “I know you will.”

  “Who would have thought that between our fathers, yours would be the one to commit a crime?” Diana shook her head in disbelief. “My money would always have been on mine.”

  Verity kissed Beau good-bye and dashed back downstairs, where she met her father with a false smile and a belly full of anxiety.

  The burlier of the two Bow Street Runners opened the door of the coach. “Come on out.”

  Kit blinked into the bright sunlight as he stepped onto the street. “Where are we?”

  “The residence of Mr. Horatio Kingman.”

  Kit pivoted and took in the charming façade of the town house. The number twenty-two stared boldly at him from the brick, and the code in the ledger was suddenly clear. He had to assume that Verity, his brilliant love, had puzzled it out.

  “Why did you bring me here?” When they’d loaded him into the wagon, they’d only said his presence was required somewhere.

  “Your day is about to improve,” the bulkier of the two Runners said enigmatically, leading Kit to the front door, where it was quickly opened by a butler who admitted them inside.

  “Follow me,” the butler said nervously as he guided them through the small house to the rear, where a door opened out onto a stone patio. Beyond was a square patch of garden, which was currently in a state of disorder as no fewer than four noblemen dug in the dirt.

  Simon looked up from where he wielded his shovel and grinned. “The conquering hero returns.”

  “I’m no hero.” Kit looked at his escorts in question, still confused as to what was going on. “Why am I here?”

  “We’ll let Lord Carlyle explain.” The leaner Runner pointed to a rather tall fellow standing off to the side of the garden.

  Kit edged toward Simon. “What are you doing in Horatio’s garden?”

  “Digging for treasure,” Simon said. “Allow me to present Lord Carlyle, a former constable who has graciously provided his assistance today. You will owe him a great deal.”

  Kit pivoted toward the side of the garden where Carlyle stood with another man. Judging from his garb, he looked to be a groom. He also looked to be rather defeated given the downward cast of his eyes and the slump of his shoulders.

  “We aren’t digging for treasure, of course,” Carlyle said evenly. “We’re exhuming the body of Rufus Beaumont.”

  Kit sucked in a breath and turned his head toward the…grave. “How do you know he’s there?”

  Carlyle indicated the man beside him. “This is Luton, Mr. Kingman’s head groom. Six and a half years ago, he arranged for a criminal organization known as the Blades—whose symbol we found in your former steward’s ledger—to intimidate the Duke of Blackburn. It seems Mr. Kingman didn’t like the man’s rakehell behavior and sought to ensure he changed his ways.”

  Kit could understand Horatio’s motivation but wanted to clarify the man’s intent. “Intimidate him or kill him?”

  “Apparently the objective was to intimidate, but according to Luton, the Blades claim he changed his mind and asked for them to kill him. They’ve been extorting money from Mr. Kingman ever since.”

  “Why would they bury him here?” Kit suspected he knew the answer, but wanted the full story from Carlyle.

  “To ensure Mr. Kingman’s compliance. If he failed to meet their demands, they needed only to point the authorities to the garden for proof of the man’s crime. And as I’ve explained, he had motive.”

  “I had motive too.” Kit gestured toward the groom. “Will this man’s story be enough?”

  “I believe so. Which is why I asked the Runners to bring you here. You can’t very well have murdered the duke. You’ve never even been to London, have you?”

  Kit shook his head. “I have not.”

  The groom lifted his head, his eyes full of tears. “I’ll do whatever is necessary. I never meant for anyone to get hurt. I was only following Mr. Kingman’s orders.” He turned toward Carlyle. �
�I’m a dead man for sure when my cousin finds out.”

  “His cousin is one of the Blades,” Carlyle explained. He pressed his lips together and regarded the groom. “You’ve done your part for them. Explain that Kingman was arrested—for I expect he will be when he arrives—and that the money has stopped. That is not your fault, and that will be the end of it. And then don’t contact them again. I might even suggest looking for employment outside London.”

  “Yes, my lord,” the groom said, nodding enthusiastically.

  Kit looked to Carlyle. “When Kingman arrives... Where is he?”

  “On Bond Street with his daughter. We sent one of his footmen to fetch them here.”

  Fear gripped Kit’s gut. While Kingman hadn’t perpetrated any violence himself, the man was apparently capable of heinous crimes, and Kit hated thinking of Verity in his company.

  Carlyle seemed to read his concern, for he smiled encouragingly. “I believe Her Grace is fine. She was quite prepared to lead her father on a merry chase to keep you safe.”

  Kit’s heart swelled even as apprehension maintained its hold. “What of the other charges against me?”

  “I understand there was no fraud, that you never intended to claim the dukedom. You were simply protecting Her Grace and the estate.”

  “Yes.” Kit could scarcely believed Verity’s plan had worked, but then she was exceptionally clever.

  Carlyle cocked his head to the side. “As for the other murder, did you do it?”

  Kit wanted to lie—hell, he needed to lie. But the words wouldn’t form. Just as he couldn’t get the truth to form after he’d accidentally killed the man. “I didn’t murder him. We fought.”

  “I see.”

  “I went to see him and found evidence of his crimes. He attacked me, and I defended myself.” Kit winced. “I regret what happened, but it was Cuddy who was intent on murder. I also regret not informing the constable at the time.”

  “We’ll sort that out,” Lord Carlyle said. “The way this all seems to be falling into place, I doubt you will be seen to have any culpability.”

  “Found something.”

  Kit turned at the call from one of the men. It was the Duke of Kendal who’d spoken. He bent and picked something up from the dirt. Kit rushed to his side.

  “Looks like a signet ring,” the duke said. “Recognize it?” He dropped the piece of jewelry onto Kit’s palm.

  The bright afternoon sunlight glinted off the gold. Kit held it up and instantly knew what it was. “This was my father’s ring. The ducal signet.”

  “I’ve found bone,” Nick said grimly.

  “What is the meaning of this!” The sound of Horatio Kingman’s voice drew everyone to turn toward the door to the house. As they did so, the man’s face lost all semblance of color. He clutched the doorframe as Verity rushed past him.

  She ran directly into Kit’s arms, and he gathered her close, kissing her forehead, so glad to have her safe and whole in his arms. She touched his face and looked up into his eyes. “Are you all right?”

  He curled his hand into a fist around his father’s ring. “Never better.”

  She arched a dark brow at him. “Never?”

  A smile dashed across his lips. “Maybe not never, but this is a fairly good moment.”

  Lord Carlyle turned toward Horatio, his hands clasped behind his back, and announced in an authoritative tone, “Mr. Kingman, you are accused of killing Rufus Beaumont, Duke of Blackburn.”

  “I didn’t! It was him!” He pointed wildly at Kit. “He wanted to claim his father’s title! He’s a bastard! He has the motive!”

  Kit took a few steps toward him, and Verity stayed close to his side, her arm wrapped around his waist. “As do you, Horatio. While your intent may have been well placed, you chose to do business with the wrong people. And you threatened the wrong people too.”

  “What was his motive?” Verity asked.

  Kit looked down at her. “He wanted Rufus to behave in a more ducal manner, and when he refused, Horatio hired brigands to frighten him into behaving. There is some dispute as to whether he wanted them to kill Rufus or merely intimidate him.”

  Horatio’s eyes were huge in his pale face. “I didn’t mean for him to die. But you should be glad he did—Rufus was a murderer. He watched Godwin drown so he could inherit the title, and I’m confident he poisoned the duke, starting at that house party.”

  Verity gasped. “And yet you did nothing. You may not have killed anyone directly, but you are guilty of terrible things.”

  Carlyle cleared his throat. “Regardless of what happened, the discovery of the duke’s body in Kingman’s garden will reflect poorly on him.” He looked toward Kit. “And you can prove he embezzled—that alone would cause him to hang.”

  “No!” Horatio cried. He brought his hands up and covered his face, tipping his head down as sobs racked his body.

  Verity’s forehead creased, and she shook her head. “I don’t want him to hang.”

  Carlyle’s gaze was tinged with sympathy. “We can ask for mercy and seek transportation instead, but it will be up to the judge. Take him to Bow Street, lads.”

  The Runners, who’d been loitering near the house after escorting Kit to the garden, took a still-sobbing Horatio by his arms and dragged him back through the house.

  “What of the Blades?” Kit asked, feeling Verity stiffen as she slowly turned back toward the garden.

  “We’re always trying to catch them for one crime or another,” Carlyle said. “Rather, they are. That’s not my job any longer.” He nodded toward Verity. “I’m sorry for the way this turned out.”

  Verity pressed closer to Kit and shuddered. “I don’t know what to say.”

  Kit held her tight against him. “You don’t need to say anything. This is a great deal to comprehend. I’m not sure I do fully yet.”

  “What are they digging up?” she asked. “Is it…him?”

  Kit pulled back to open his hand and showed her the ring. “Titus found this. It was my father’s.”

  “I recognize that. Rufus wore it after Augustus died.” She looked toward the garden. “So he really is there?”

  “Yes.” He didn’t offer any condolences because he didn’t think she’d want them. “Are you sad?”

  “No. I’m relieved to know, and I hope he’s at peace. We should take him back to Beaumont Tower and bury him properly there. For Beau.”

  Oh God, Beau. What were they going to tell him?

  “I agree. I… I don’t know what to say to him.”

  She turned in his arms and looked up at him. “About his father?”

  “About him, about me, about any of it.”

  “We won’t tell him everything at once.” Her forehead creased. “I think I’d like to take him home as soon as possible.”

  “Not until we take him to the museum and Gunter’s and the Tower. He’ll be devastated if we don’t.”

  “I’ll be devastated too,” she said. “I was so looking forward to doing all that. As a family.”

  Despite the events of the day, hope and peace made Kit smile. “And I so wanted to take you to a play.”

  She smiled back. “You will. Someday.”

  Simon came to the edge of the garden and leaned on his shovel. “This is going to be an even bigger scandal now. Nick, I do believe the focus may finally be off us permanently.” He winced and ducked his head. “Sorry, perhaps that was too soon.”

  Verity surprised Kit by laughing. “No, and you’re right. We’ll need to complete our sightseeing and be on our way as soon as possible.”

  “We could cause an even bigger scandal and get married,” Kit said softly.

  She looked up at him, her eyes glowing. “Yes, please. The sooner the better.”

  “As soon as we get home,” Kit vowed.

  “Home. I like the sound of that.” Her brow creased slightly. “And you’re fine with it being on land?”

  “Home is with you and Beau, wherever that is. You have my wh
ole heart and my entire soul, and I don’t ever want them back.”

  She leaned up and put her lips on his. “Good, because you can’t have them.”

  Epilogue

  September 1818

  The warm sun roused Verity from her nap atop the blanket. She blinked as she rose from the pillow Kit had thoughtfully brought along and looked out to the pond, where Beau was rowing the boat. Even from this distance, she could see how hard he was working to get them back to the dock.

  It was a blissful sight—her son and her husband together in a happy activity. Kit had spent the summer building the dock and teaching Beau to swim. He’d also taught Verity, but she didn’t like to put her head under like Beau did. He was, she decided, part fish.

  And now, with her belly swelling with Kit’s child, she much preferred to nap. It had been like this with Beau too, but the persistent need to sleep had lessened at some point, and she anticipated it was happening now as she hadn’t felt the need to nap in a few days. Today, however, with the sun and the birds and the overall sense of contentment, she’d easily drifted off.

  The boat hit the dock, and Beau jumped out to lash it to the side as Kit had taught him. He’d learned so many things from his father over the past few months.

  And yes, Kit was his father in every sense of the word.

  Telling Beau had gone well. He’d been sad to hear that his real father was dead, but glad that they were bringing him home. They’d decided not to tell him of his grandfather’s involvement. He’d learn of it some day, but not yet. And he’d never see him again, for Horatio was already on his way to Australia on a convict ship after Verity had pleaded—via letter—for that sentence instead of hanging.

  Simon had been right—the ensuing scandal had been massive. Everyone was talking about the shocking discovery of the Duke of Blackburn’s body in his father-in-law’s garden. People clamored to catch sight of the widowed duchess and the man who’d pretended to be the duke. That he’d done so to flush out her father’s crimes was a particularly scrumptious bit of the gossip, of which there was plenty to devour.