Duke was going to get his father-in-law’s help in making his escape. After four weeks on his back and two more of being housebound, he was staging a revolt. Faith had him settled him on the sofa and gussied up with a footstool and an afghan, for Pete’s sake!
When Cuvier strolled into the parlor and caught him bundled up like an infant, Duke flung off the afghan then ground his teeth from pain. His shoulder was healing, but was still extremely tender.
“Glad to see you up and about,” Cuvier said, tossing a copy of a Syracuse newspaper on the coffee table. “It appears Stone worked alone, I suspect to guard his reputation.”
“A man like Stone would work alone just so no one had the power to manipulate him.”
“I agree,” Cuvier said. “I visited Stone’s father, and the old man is shaken up over his son’s death but sincerely shocked by the news of Franklin’s scheming. He told me about the lifelong competition between Franklin and his twin brother Gordon. He said the boys fought from birth, first for their mother’s nurturing, and later for his attention. When Gordon started following in the old man’s footsteps and pursuing a political career, Franklin pursued law. According to their father, Gordon was the smarter of the two boys, and his early success drove Franklin into a rage on several occasions. It got so the old man wouldn’t speak to the two about each other.”
“Why did Franklin begrudge his brother success?” Duke asked, baffled. Sure, he’d envied his brothers at times, but he’d always celebrated their achievements with complete and sincere happiness.
Cuvier shrugged. “I went to Washington to ask Gordon that very question. He thinks Franklin’s animosity stemmed from their competition over a gal they were both smitten with. As soon as Gordon married the girl, his brother seemed driven to outdo any success Gordon had. Gordon suspects that’s why Franklin started the theater project. But his plans collapsed so many times, both Gordon and their father pushed him to give it up. He refused, of course, and vowed he would build that theater, name it after the old man, and renew the city his father was born in.”
“For what? Recognition?”
“That’s what Gordon thinks. And after talking with their father, it’s the only motive that makes any sense to me. Franklin reveled in his power as judge, and I know he liked being recognized for any achievement, no matter how small.”
“Pathetic.”
“But true.” Cuvier took a cheroot from his breast pocket. “I called on his mistress, and learned the judge was planning to have the woman’s brother—the man you clobbered— anonymously deliver Cora to a family who wanted a girl child.”
Duke’s gut twisted. “Then he had no intention of returning her to us even if we had given him the property?”
“No. If anyone learned he had a bastard child by a prostitute from the very brothel he was tearing down, it would have played hell with his reputation and lowered him another notch in his father’s regard.”
“But Faith and I could have publicized the truth either way.”
“How could you prove it without having the child to back up your accusation?”
“That crafty, corrupt son of a bitch.” Duke shook his head. “I think Franklin Stone was far smarter than his father thought.”
“He manipulated all of us to some extent. The place he was sending Cora appeared to be a good home with people who would care for her. That’s what makes me think he was bluffing when he put that gun to her head.”
Duke huffed out a breath, both shocked and infuriated by the news. “I thought he was greedy and too driven to care about his own child. I feared he’d pull the trigger if I pushed him.”
“He might have. No one can know. His actions were desperate and his mind frighteningly unstable that day. He was so obsessed with finishing his theater project, he might have snapped completely if you’d pushed him.”
Maybe. Whatever Stone’s motives, the man’s half-crazed mental state could have easily gotten Duke and Cora killed. Duke picked up the paper and angled it toward the window to read the article. After Stone’s death, several homeowners came forward to testify they’d been coerced into selling him their property Stone had extorted every one of them. The article went on to say that Stone’s brother was making amends by negotiating handsome contracts on the properties and giving the money to the homeowners. And while Faith’s father brought most of Stone’s corrupt deeds to light, incurring several tough questions from authorities about his part in Stone’s scheme, there was no mention of Faith’s mother or the brothel, thank God. And an audit and investigation cleared Cuvier of any wrongdoing.
Justice was served. Duke laid the paper aside, feeling proud of Cuvier. “Well done.”
“And well deserved.” Cuvier reached inside his suit coat and pulled out an envelope. “I’ve taken care of the papers you asked for.”
Duke accepted the envelope, knowing what it contained, and that they had both said all there was to say on the subject. “Care to take a walk?” he asked, wincing as he pushed to his feet.
Cuvier stood. “I could use the air.”
“Then sneak me out, because it’s the only way Faith is going to let me leave the house.”
His father-in-law was a good sport and distracted Faith while Duke slipped outside. They walked to the livery together, and found Evelyn outside talking with Anna and Dahlia.
The women greeted them with smiles, but Dahlia broke away to speak to them. “I vowed if you ever crossed my path again,” she said to Cuvier, “I’d cut your heart out for hurting Rose. But I understand the situation now, and can only thank you for exposing Stone as a corrupt scoundrel.”
Cuvier’s lips twitched. “Hello, Dahlia.”
A softer, friendlier look stole into her eyes. “Where have you been living these past thirteen years?”
“I haven’t been living.”
“Then Rose didn’t suffer alone.” With that she walked away and took up her conversation with Evelyn and Anna.
Cuvier chuckled and lit a cheroot. “I see why Rose loved those women.”
Duke nodded. “They have a way of growing on a person.”
“Go in and see your brother. I’m going to smoke and watch the horses for a bit.”
He left Cuvier to his thoughts and entered the livery. Pitchfork in hand, Radford was cleaning a stall, whisking the soiled straw into a nearby wheelbarrow. He arched his eyebrow at Duke.
“I’m surprised Faith let you out of the house.”
“She didn’t. I tunneled through the parlor wall.”
Radford laughed and scraped up another forkful of straw. “Kyle and Boyd were cooking up a plan to break you out. They’ll be glad to know they don’t have to cross Faith.”
“I don’t blame them. I’m hoping her father can sneak me back inside.”
“By the looks of you, I’d put my money on Faith.”
“Me too. That’s why I’m laying low.” Duke rested his arms on the pine boards of the stall, glad for the support, but irritated he needed it. He hated being so weak.
Radford tossed another forkful of straw into the wheelbarrow. “I’ve been wanting to apologize. Just haven’t found the right time.”
“How could you, when my house is overrun with women who won’t stop fussing over me?”
“Could be worse.” Radford smiled, and Duke regretted the harsh words he’d had with his brother.
“I’m sorry I condemned you for protecting Rebecca,” he said. “That’s what a father is supposed to do.”
“A father is supposed to protect and guide his children,” Radford said, continuing to work, “not smother them and make all their decisions for them.” He rested the pitchfork tines in the straw and hung his hand over the top of the handle. “I misjudged Adam. He’s worthy of your praise, and you were right to defend his character. You’ve got a fine young man for a son.”
“Thank you.” Radford’s acknowledgment and acceptance of Adam soothed the wound in Duke’s heart. “I wish you hadn’t needed to shoot Stone,” he said. His
words were few, but Radford would understand all the things he wasn’t saying: He was sorry to resurrect the demons that had nearly driven Radford insane after the war, he was sorry to burden Radford’s conscience with another killing.
Radford sighed and leaned against the pine slats. “You know, after Kyle and I got in that fight here, I walked out of the livery wondering if I could ever pull myself together. I felt shaky and half-crazy like I was back in the damned war.”
“You’d gone through hell. No one blamed you for losing control.”
“I was a mess, Duke. I couldn’t even hold that damned gun at William’s funeral. Everything was exploding in my head like I was in the middle of Gettysburg. I couldn’t have protected anyone that day, and I’ve wondered ever since if I’d fall apart when my family needed me.” His shoulders lowered on a hard sigh. “Now I know. Right or wrong, shooting Stone was the only choice. I regret having to do it, but I don’t regret my decision to save my brother.”
Peace flowed into Duke’s chest. Radford had finally escaped the war. Killing men had imprisoned Radford, but saving Duke had freed him.
No, neither of them would have chosen this situation, but circumstances had forced them to cross the line, to commit acts they would never willingly perform. Duke had kidnapped a child who needed him. Radford had killed a man to save his brother. And Faith had lied to protect her family. Right or wrong, good or bad, they’d all done what they’d had to do.
And Duke could live with that.
Chapter 42
It was a cold, snowy Christmas Eve, but Duke sat in the sleigh and inhaled the fresh air, feeling alive and somewhat healthy for the first time since he had been shot. He couldn’t wait to work the mill again. He’d thought he would feel incomplete without his sheriff’s badge, but he knew a wholeness and happiness he’d never before experienced. He knew who he was: a Grayson.
Radford had tried being a soldier. Kyle had once wanted to be a lawyer. Boyd had been a bar owner. Duke spent years as a sheriff. But those occupations had only defined a small part of who they were as men. They were brothers, sons, fathers, and husbands. They would defend their families as fiercely as they would defend their country. They would disagree at times, but they would always stand united when it counted.
They were Graysons. Men who argued and laughed and made mistakes sometimes. Men with families. Men with wives they loved and honored.
“Why so quiet?” Faith asked, brushing her warm lips across his jaw. She smiled up at him, her cheeks rosy, a tender expression in her whiskey-colored eyes.
“I was just thinking about you,” he said, glad she looked happy. They snuggled beneath the lap robe, and she didn’t express any curiosity about their destination until they stopped in the middle of Forest Hill Cemetery.
Adam leapt from the front seat of the sleigh with a youthful agility Duke envied. With painful slowness, he got himself out, but Cuvier assisted Faith and Cora.
“Is your father buried here?” Faith asked, standing beside him with her new hat and scarf, looking so beautiful he wanted to rush her straight home to their big bed that had been agonizingly empty while he’d healed. He would not wait one more night to love her.
“No, your mother is. She’s in Fredonia now.” Duke gestured to the engraved stone that marked Celia Rose’s new resting place. “We can plant roses in the spring.”
Faith stared at the stone and her lips parted. “Is she really . . . did you move her here?”
“Your father saw to it while I was laid up.”
“Oh, Duke . . .” Faith knelt in the snow and smoothed her knit gloves over the stone. He was afraid she would cry, and that her tears would upset Cora, who was still easily frightened. But Faith looked up at him with the most radiant smile he’d ever seen. “Thank you.” She shifted her beautiful joyful eyes to her father. “There’s nothing you could have ever given me to equal this.”
And there was nothing Faith could have given her father that would have equaled her unsolicited forgiveness. With one sentence she had freed Steven Cuvier of a lifetime of guilt.
“Let’s decorate the stone and then get home,” Duke said. “I have some gifts for the three of you.”
“How can you have gifts for us when you haven’t been out of the house?” Faith asked, giving him a suspicious squint. “Have you been sneaking out while I’ve been sleeping?”
“Of course not!”
She laughed and gave his ribs a playful nudge. “I have a surprise for you, too. We have an outing this evening.”
They would go to his mother’s house, where everyone gathered for holidays and celebrations. As always, it would be cramped and noisy, but Duke was looking forward to getting back to all the things he’d taken for granted.
He stood by as Faith, Adam, and Cora decorated Rose’s grave with a pine wreath and a festive red bow, their faces illuminated with joy instead of the grief so often witnessed in a cemetery.
He joined them in singing carols on the way home, laughing at their off-key harmony When Faith tried to hurry them inside, he led them to the small barn near the greenhouse. “Let’s give Cora her present first,” he said, opening the doors.
When Cora saw Evelyn’s dapple-gray gelding happily munching hay, her eyes grew as round as the buttons on her Sunday go-to-meeting coat. “There’s a pony in our barn!”
“He’s yours, princess.”
Both Faith and Cora gawked at him. “This is too much,” Faith said, but Cuvier looked pleased to see Rose’s children being loved and taken care of.
“It’s a special Christmas this year.” Duke gave Adam a wink because Adam had been party to the surprise. The boy had gotten the pony for Duke and sneaked it into the barn.
They followed Cora inside to welcome Dandelion to the family. The gelding would go back to the livery in the morning until Evelyn and Rebecca taught Cora how to ride safely and care for him.
A squeaky little bark came from the back of the barn, and Adam’s eyes lit up. “I think there’s a dog in here.”
Duke grinned. “I think you’re right, and if you can find the little rascal, he belongs to you.”
Adam found the beagle pup in a nest of straw.
“He’ll make a good hunting dog,” Duke said.
“Can he sleep in my room?”
Faith gave Duke a look of horror, but Duke could tell she was mostly happy for the boy.
By the time they went inside for hot chocolate, they were all half-frozen. Adam brought the puppy with him, and Cora wanted to know why she couldn’t bring the pony too. She was easily distracted with a new doll and a bag of licorice sticks.
Adam could barely put his dog down long enough to open the box under the pine tree. He liked his new boots and coat and gloves, but his eyes widened when he saw the rifle. “I never got so many gifts in my life,” he said, stroking the gun barrel with awe.
“We’ll keep the rifle put up until I can teach you how to clean it and use it safely”
“Yes, sir.”
Faith admired her new dresses, fussing over the lace and ribbons. But when she opened the package containing a new pharmacopoeia book, she let out a shriek that sent the puppy scrambling under the sofa. “Oh, Duke! How did you get this?”
The book had been hell to come by, but with Doc Milton’s help and a good bit of money, Duke had acquired it.
She hugged the book to her chest. “It’s the best gift in the world.”
He knew better. She was the best gift in the world. She planted a sizzling kiss on his mouth, her sparkling, love-filled gaze locked with his. If not for Cora’s giggles and Adam’s groan, Duke would have whisked her upstairs to their bedroom.
Faith gazed into her husband’s shining eyes, clutching the book to her chest, unable to believe it was hers, and that he was hers. “Thank you.”
He winked, then pulled a rolled paper from his coat pocket and handed it to Adam. “I’d like to make you a Grayson,” he said. “If you sign this adoption paper, then Faith and I can legally adop
t you.”
Adam’s mouth gaped open as he stared at the paper.
Astonishment and love surged through Faith’s chest, and she bit her lip, moved to tears.
A broad smile broke across Adam’s face, and he leaned down to speak to his puppy. “I’m going to be a Grayson,” he whispered.
Faith understood what being a Grayson meant to Adam. He would carry a name that was respected and valued in this community. And he would belong; he would have a father who would love and guide him into manhood with all the values Adam respected and admired.
Looking over at Steven Cuvier, the sad acceptance she saw made her heart squeeze. Her father would have been there for them if he’d had the opportunity, if Rose had been truthful. He was happy to become a father to Faith, but Adam needed and loved Duke, and considered him his father. Steven gave a solemn, kindly nod to acknowledge his understanding. “You have my blessing in this,” he said to Adam.
Faith laid her book on the coffee table and got the ink stand and quill for Adam. Her father looked on while Adam signed a document that made him another man’s son.
When they finished, Adam frowned at Faith. “If Duke’s my dad, what does this make you?”
“Exactly what I’ve always been, Adam, your motherly sister.” And her son by possession. The darling little boy she’d loved and raised from birth.
His nose wrinkled. “Does this make you my grandfather, Mr. Cuvier?”
Warmth filled his eyes and he smiled at Adam. “I’d be honored to be your grandfather.”
Chapter 43
Adam marveled that Faith and his aunts, with the help of Duke’s family and Anna, had made the second floor of the greenhouse into a festive hall. He’d carried up chairs and coffee tables that Faith had grouped around the edges of the room, leaving the middle of the hardwood floor open. But the best part of helping was watching Duke’s brothers and Patrick haul a piano upstairs. When they finally set it down, they were panting and sweating, and Adam was staring with awe. Someday he was going to be strong enough to lift a piano.
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