by Leah Conolly
“Before we eat,” he said. “I wanted to thank you for accepting my invitation.”
Christine blushed and smiled impishly.
“Do you mean your invitation for dinner, or your offer of courtship?” she asked.
Duncan flushed, unable to hide his own exuberant smile.
“Let us just say that I am referring to both,” he said.
Ruthie giggled and raised her own glass.
“If I may, my lord,” she said, looking sheepishly at Duncan for permission to continue.
“Of course, Ruthie,” he said warmly. “Please, speak freely. You are among friends here.”
Ruthie blushed more deeply, and her smile widened.
“I would like to thank you for being so good to us,” she said. “We have been so happy working for you, and we love it here.”
Duncan laughed. He knew how happy the women were in his employ, but it brought him joy to hear them express their pleasure in such a direct manner. Especially Ruthie. He had discovered early on that she was very timid, and she rarely spoke more than a few words at one time. He was glad that she was warming to him just as much as Christine was.
He raised his glass to hers and grinned.
“I am truly honored by your words, Ruthie,” he said. “I cannot tell you how much of a pleasure it has been, the two of you being here.” He nodded to Ruthie, then turned his attention to Christine. “So, the feeling is more than mutual.”
Ruthie giggled again, and Christine’s blush deepened. The lightness of the atmosphere and the sweet words brought a sparkle to her eyes that melted Duncan’s heart, and he took a sip of wine to stop himself from leaving his seat and giving her a sweet, chaste kiss. Her sheepishly averted gaze and sudden attention to her wine glass told him that she might have wished for the same thing.
At last, Duncan put down his glass and picked up his fork. The women followed suit, and they ate in silence for a few moments. He knew that they were there for Christine to tell him her secret, but he did not wish to pressure her. He wanted her to continue feeling comfortable and to open up to him at her own pace. At one point, he caught a shared look between Christine and Ruthie. Before he looked away to avoid spying on their silent cues, he saw Ruthie nod her head slightly and give Christine a small, warm smile. The suspense was fierce, and he took a long sip from his wine glass to keep from saying something that would add to Christine’s stress.
To his relief, a few minutes later, Christine put down her cutlery and looked at him. Her face was tense and serious, and Duncan’s heart fell a little. He could not imagine what she could have to say that would make her so concerned, but he decided that no matter what it was, he was going to be loving and supportive. He loved her with all his heart, and he would do anything to prove that love to her.
“My lord,” she began. Duncan lifted his hand, giving her a warm, sweet smile.
“In light of the fact that we may soon begin courting,” he said. “I really would love it if you called me by my given name.”
Christine blushed once more and nodded.
“Very well, Duncan,” she said, her expression unreadable.
“Yes, Christine?” he asked. He wanted to show her the same familiarity, so that she understood how close he felt to her, and how much he trusted her.
“As I said before, I wanted to come here because I have a few things I must tell you,” she continued.
Duncan put down his own silverware and focused all his attention on Christine.
“Please, feel free to say anything that is on your mind,” he said, keeping his face warm, open, and kind.
Christine looked at him for a moment, taking in his expression. He was glad to see that her shoulders relaxed, if only marginally, and she gave him a small smile.
“I hope that you still feel the same way in a few moments,” she said.
Duncan nodded, keeping his expression exactly the same.
“I can promise you that I will,” he said.
She took a deep breath and nodded.
“The first thing that you should know is that I love you. As my friend just said, I have never been happier in my life.”
Duncan nodded again, his heart pounding in his chest. Before she could continue, however, there was a loud crash at the front door. Duncan jumped from his seat and whipped his head toward the dining room door. Christine and Ruthie looked at each other with wild eyes, and Duncan prepared to rush to the front of the house and locate the cause of the trouble. Before he could leave the table, the dining room door was thrust open. There, in the doorway, stood two constables, and just behind them was his mother. Duncan knocked over his wine glass, hardly taking notice of the mess as the two men charged into the dining area.
“What is the meaning of this?” Duncan bellowed. Even as he spoke, the men barged in, one moving toward Christine and the other going for Ruthie. Duncan stared, shocked, as the men restrain the women.
“Forgive us, my lord,” one of the men said. “But these two women are under arrest.”
Duncan finally found his legs. He left his spot at the table and moved toward the officer who was holding Christine.
“You have made a terrible mistake,” he said, reaching toward the officer. “If you will release her and talk with me, I am sure that we can clear up the misunderstanding.”
The officer refused to release Christine. He proceeded to handcuff her, only pausing to look at Duncan once he had completed his task.
“I am afraid not, my lord,” he said. “We have spoken to Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess of Lancaster.”
Duncan felt the color drain from his face. What had his mother done now?
“Is that so?” he asked, his blood immediately boiling. “And what did the duchess have to say?”
“These two women are imposters,” the other officer said bluntly. “They have given you false names and identities.”
Duncan’s heart fell into his stomach. He shook his head numbly, trying to make sense of what was happening.
“I do not understand,” he said. “They are a simple lady and her maid and companion.”
The officer arresting Christine chuckled dryly.
“Unfortunately, that is not the case,” he said. Duncan stared at him, awaiting further explanation, but none came.
“Please, Duncan, let us explain,” Christine said. The officer gripping her arm squeezed it and looked at her.
“Silence,” he said. “You are under arrest.”
Duncan leapt forward, reaching for Christine. Whatever was happening, he wanted to hear it from her lips, not from those of a policeman. However, the officer yanked her back and looked Duncan in the eyes.
“Please, my lord, address us directly from here onwards; these two will only tell you more lies” he said.
Duncan was furious.
“This is my home,” he said. “And I will address anyone I wish.”
The second officer shook his head sheepishly.
“These two women cannot be trusted,” he said. “The duchess told us that they have been on the run for quite some time, and that nothing they say is truthful. You would do well to speak to us, rather than them.”
Duncan looked from the officers to the two women, bewildered. What was happening? Were the men speaking the truth? Did this have anything to do with what Christine was trying to tell him?
“Very well,” Duncan said, deciding to play along in the hopes of finding a resolution that would involve the officers releasing the women. “Then tell me who they are and their crimes.”
The officer holding Christine seemed to relax and loosened his grip on her, and Duncan gave an imperceptible sigh of relief. He stood up straight and met Duncan’s gaze.
“This woman here,” he said, pointing to Christine, “is actually Lady Charlotte Hackney. She was supposed to be married to Comte Francois, in France, but she evaded her obligation by assuming a false identity. That woman is her lady’s maid, Ruth Simmons.”
Duncan shook his head.
/> “And how, may I ask, did the duchess obtain such reliable information?” he asked, his voice full of sarcasm.
The first officer straightened his shoulders and looked at him.
“She said that she spoke to a man on the docks who recognized the women,” he said. “The gentleman has known Lady Charlotte for many years and would recognize her anywhere.”
Duncan laughed.
“And a strange man’s word is your sole basis for this arrest?” he asked.
The officers looked at him solemnly.
“He is willing to identify Lady Charlotte and Ruth Simmons,” he said. “We must follow up on this, especially as the duchess is making an official report.”
Duncan looked at his mother, bewildered, hoping for any explanation that would clear up the chaotic situation. Instead of speaking, however, she stood with her arms folded across her chest, and the ugliest, most triumphant smile spread across her face.
Duncan began trembling, both from anger and fear. He still did not understand what he was hearing, and he wanted answers that made sense. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself enough to determine the truth and reach an agreement with the officers. Deep in his heart, he knew that the situation was more than just a misunderstanding, but he wanted to hear Christine’s side, so that he could properly judge the charges against her.
“Very well,” he said, looking back and forth between the officers. “As this is my home, and I am the one who decides what will happen to these women, I wish to hear the full story, and from their point of view. Otherwise, I will not allow you to take them from this house. Is that understood?”
Helena opened her mouth to protest, but Duncan held up his hand, glaring at his mother.
“I request that my mother be removed from the room until I deem it an appropriate time for her to rejoin us,” he said.
“But my lord—,” one officer began. Duncan turned his burning gaze onto him.
“This is my house,” he repeated. “You will do as I request, or you will face the consequences.”
The officers looked at one another, knowing well that Duncan was correct. At last, the one holding Christine, or whoever she really was, nodded.
“Yes, my lord,” he said meekly.
Chapter 21
Charlotte felt as though the floor had fallen away from beneath her, as the officer held her firmly in place. She wished that it had, when she saw that the officer had only escorted the duchess to the open doorway, not out of the room. Over his shoulder, Helena flashed her a hideous, triumphant smile.
Duncan looked frantically between her and Ruth, and her heart broke. She would have given anything to spare him the nasty scene that was now unfolding, that would be forever branded in his mind. She cursed herself for being too weak and frightened to tell him the truth sooner. She closed her eyes in a vain attempt to make it all go away, hoping that she would wake up in a cold sweat in her bed at the inn.
“Mother,” Duncan said. Charlotte opened her eyes, crashing back to reality. “What have you done? Leave here and take these officers with you at once. These women have done nothing wrong.”
Helena’s face twisted into a mask of sympathy and she touched her son’s arm.
“Oh, darling,” she said, her voice dripping with such false concern that it made Charlotte want to scream. “I wish, for your sake, that were true.” Helena then turned her attention to Charlotte, her smug expression returning. “As for you, I warned you to come clean. I told you what would happen if you did not.”
Duncan blinked and looked at Charlotte with wide-eyed surprise.
“What is she talking about, Christine?” he asked softly.
Helena laughed maniacally at his use of her fake name.
“My lord,” the officer detaining Charlotte said. “This woman is not . . .”
“Silence,” Duncan said, his voice quiet but firm. “This is my home, these are my guests, and you have not been invited. I will speak to whomever I wish.”
The officer clearly wanted to protest, but he was standing before a duke, and eventually decided against it. He bowed, keeping Charlotte’s hands firmly behind her back.
Duncan noticed how the officer was holding her and took a step toward them.
“Furthermore,” he said. “You will release your grip on these women and allow them to sit, like civilized people, while we discuss this.”
This time, the second officer did protest.
“I am afraid we cannot do that,” he said.
Duncan held up his hand.
“You are in the home of a duke,” he said. Charlotte noticed that he winced a little at using his title and power so freely, and her heart filled with more love for him. “I am not asking you to free them. I am telling you that you will allow them to be seated comfortably while they explain what is happening. You may stand behind them, if you wish, but you will stop holding onto them as though they pose some sort of danger.”
The officers exchanged a look. Then the first officer nodded, and they each released their grip on the women’s wrists. They simultaneously pulled out chairs at the table and eased the women into them. Only then did they let go of their arms, but they did not move a single step away from the seats.
Once the women were seated, Duncan took another step toward Charlotte. He was looking at her with wary, but kind eyes. Her own filled with tears, and she had to force herself to hold his gaze.
“I am so sorry,” she whispered, biting her lip to stifle a sob.
Duncan touched her hand, but the officer behind her put out a hand and touched Duncan’s wrist.
“I am afraid that I cannot allow you to touch the prisoners,” he said.
Duncan’s face flushed with anger, and Charlotte feared that he might swat away the officer’s hand. However, he merely withdrew his hand and knelt to look her in the eye.
“What has happened?” he asked softly. “Please, just tell me.”
Charlotte did sob this time at the warmth of his tone. She was suddenly sure that, had she only told him sooner, he would have remained as sweet and kind as he was now. After all this, she did not believe he would ever forgive her.
“Your mother is right,” she said, her voice still a whisper. “I am not who I said I am.”
Duncan blinked again, confused.
“I do not understand,” he said. “What does that mean?”
“It means that she is a filthy liar,” Helena said, interrupting. “She is not to be trusted.”
Duncan glowered at his mother.
“I believe that you have done more than enough, Mother,” he hissed, his eyes flashing. “You will remain silent and let her speak, or you will be the next person to be removed from here in handcuffs.”
Even Helena seemed to be temporarily frightened by the threat. She stepped back without another word.
“It is alright,” Charlotte said, trying to find her voice. “Your mother’s words are not too far from the truth.”
Duncan shook his head. Charlotte flinched at the pain clouding his expression.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
Charlotte sighed, bracing herself. She had been ready to tell Duncan who she was, but she could have never prepared to do so under such circumstances.
“My name is not Christine Becker,” she said. “It is Charlotte Hackney. My friend is my life-long lady’s maid, Ruth Simmons.”
Duncan stared at her dumbly. She could see him trying to process what she was saying. Suddenly, recognition and realization dawned on his face. He paled and looked ill.
“Do you mean Charlotte Hackney, as in the daughter of Lord Devon?” he asked.
Charlotte nodded slowly, fresh tears filling her eyes.
“I am so sorry,” she whispered.
Duncan turned his back to her, and she started to panic. Her worst fear was realized, and she was desperate to explain everything to him.
“Duncan, please,” she said. “It is not what you think. If you will just grant me the chance to explai
n.
Duncan spun around and narrowed his tear-filled eyes at her.
“Enough,” he said. “There is nothing you have to say that I wish to hear.”
The harshness of his typically warm and affectionate voice stung her, and she let out a sob.
“Please,” she begged, but Duncan tore his gaze from her.
