A Duke Never Forgets (The Duke Hunters Club, #3)

by Blythe, Bianca

  “What’s happening?” Sebastian asked a nearby farmhand.

  The man shrugged. “I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.”

  Sebastian nodded, then urged Pegasus to continue his round. Sebastian wasn’t a local, and he didn’t need local gossip. He wouldn’t remember it anyway.

  Sebastian continued to concentrate on the field and to plow it with care and efficiency, loosening the soil.

  Finally, the farmhand appeared, grinning. “Sebastian! I have news for you!”

  Sebastian urged Pegasus to halt, then turned to his new friend. “What is it?”

  “Money!” the man exclaimed.

  “Don’t tell me they found something valuable in the soil.”

  His friend guffawed. “Here? Nobody comes around here with anything valuable.”

  “So no diamond necklace?”

  His friend chuckled. “Nonsense. Who here has even seen a diamond before?”

  Sebastian decided not to reveal he wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with them. He’d attended balls where women had adorned themselves with them.

  “No, it’s not that,” the man said. “But it is a chance to earn extra money.”

  “Oh!” Sebastian grinned. “I like the sound of that.”

  “Some rich lady came to the posting inn and told the publican to organize a search party. Apparently, some duke went missing.”

  Sebastian blinked. “That’s dreadful.” He paused. “Which duke was it?”

  “What a question. Which duke is it? Nobody here asked that question. I don’t think it was one of the king’s brothers though. More people would already be searching if it were one of those leeches.”

  “Really?” For an odd reason, Sebastian felt uncomfortable, and he frowned. “Do you think the missing duke is dead?”

  The man shrugged. “We’ve been offered a lot of money to find the duke. Actually, we’ve been offered a lot of money just to look for the duke. I mean, that’s what I call a truly pleasant walk in the park.”

  “Someone might be dead.”

  He swallowed hard. He didn’t like dwelling on it, but he’d come close to succumbing to death. If the force of his injury had been a bit more vigorous, or if lovely Genevieve hadn’t been present to rescue him from the waves, he would likely have succumbed.

  He’d lived, but perhaps this other man, this titled man had passed away?

  His stomach thudded. “I’ll help. Where do I go?”

  His friend raised his eyebrows. “You shouldn’t look so serious.” His friend lowered his torso and looked around conspiratorially. “The publican reckons that the lady in question fancies the gentleman in question.”

  Sebastian furrowed his brow. “This is an unmarried woman?”

  His friend nodded and grinned. “Exactly. An unmarried woman who might want to become a duchess.”

  “Oh.” Sebastian blinked.

  “I mean, who wouldn’t want to be set for life?”

  “I suppose that makes sense,” Sebastian assented, though something still struck him as sad. He didn’t feel like laughing, even though he always felt like laughing.

  “You needn’t look glum. If she’s right, and the duke is truly lying in some ditch somewhere, we’ll rescue him. And if not, she won’t worry about his fate. He probably took a ship over to France to get away from her.”

  Sebastian wasn’t interested in the woman organizing a search party. He was interested in this poor man’s safety.

  He nodded gravely. “I’ll join the effort.”

  “I haven’t even told you the pay!” his friend exclaimed. “That’s the good part.”

  “I would do it regardless,” Sebastian said solemnly.

  It was always good to help others. He was certain about that.

  His friend leaned over. “Well, one tip is not to tell them.” He shrugged. “The pay is good.”

  “Even if we don’t find him?”

  “Exactly.”

  Sebastian vowed to find this man. Unless he was in the habit of traveling with food, this man might be in grave danger. Actually, that was a practice that a duke might do.

  Perhaps there was hope.

  Perhaps the man had broken the wheel of his carriage, and perhaps he’d also broken his leg and was happily munching food, waiting for someone who wanted to marry him badly to organize a rescue.

  The whole thing sounded far-fetched, but Sebastian had realized life had a tendency to be far-fetched at times. After all, he had amnesia, a condition Genevieve informed him was not rare in penny dreadfuls, even if it was rare everywhere else.

  Sebastian followed the group toward the public house.

  The plan was that they would separate into search groups from there.

  Sebastian rode toward his house. Unlike other nights, the other farmhands didn’t vanish by going in other directions. This time, everyone proceeded in the same direction.

  Some people began to sing, and Sebastian’s heart felt lighter. He joined his colleagues in song.

  It was odd that he could remember various nonsensical ditties, but that he couldn’t remember meeting Genevieve, courting her, marrying her.

  He stopped at his cottage.

  “You have an awfully nice carriage,” his friend said, glancing at Sebastian’s chaise.

  “Er—yes.” Sebastian’s face reddened. He didn’t want to ponder again how he’d managed to procure it.

  “I’m—er—just going to inform my wife that I’ll be late coming home tonight.”

  His friend shrugged. “Personally, I wouldn’t bother.”

  “She might worry.”

  His friend smiled. “How romantic.”

  Sebastian had the sense the word wasn’t precisely complimentary, but he didn’t mind. He disembarked from Pegasus and strode toward the door.

  He loved returning home to the cottage each day.

  He loved seeing Genevieve again and knowing she was his and that this life was theirs. Perhaps the home he’d been raised in was larger than the cottage, with more servants flitting about, but this felt more like a home.

  Sebastian marched to the door.

  “Genevieve! Genevieve!” Seeing her again was always the best part of his day.

  The cottage seemed silent, and he frowned. No pitter-patter of feet approached him. Even Billy didn’t greet him.

  Finally, Sally appeared. “Mr. Seagull?”

  He nodded, and for some reason, the maid averted her eyes. She’d always seemed shy in his presence.

  “Is my wife in?”

  The maid swallowed hard. “Well—”

  He sighed. “No, obviously, she’s out.”

  Sally gave a relieved nod. “She’s by the shore if you want to see her. I believe her mother and brother went to follow her.”

  “Ah, a family reunion. What a nice thought.”

  Sebastian resisted the temptation to join them at the shore. Someone’s life was at stake.

  “I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it for dinner,” Sebastian said.

  Sally nodded, then hesitated. “What should I say if she asks why?”

  “I found another job for tonight.” He smiled, still pleased at his luck.

  “Very well, Mr. Seagull.”

  Sebastian nodded, then left the cottage. It was unfortunate he hadn’t been able to speak with Genevieve, but perhaps it was for the best. He certainly would have been reluctant to leave her.

  Soon, he resumed his journey to the public house, scouring the neighboring fields, just in case he saw signs of ducal carriage tracks veering off the path. Finally, he arrived at the public house.

  His friend had been correct: many people were searching for this man. The place swarmed with people.

  The public house distributed tallow candles for people to clutch, and the area flooded with light. Rough voices murmured until the publican strode out. He moved slowly, with the comfortable waddle of a man constantly in the presence of pork pies and puddings. He was accompanied by a well-dressed older looking woman
and an even more well-dressed young lady.

  His friend elbowed him. “That must be the woman who caused a stir when she discovered he was missing. Lady something or other.”

  “Ah.” Sebastian surveyed her, but the crowd of people made the task difficult.

  “She’s a looker,” his friend said. “If I were the duke, I would want to be found by a woman like that.”

  The woman had the same lovely shade of blonde hair that Genevieve did. She was thinner, and her features more firm, as if they’d truly been carved from stone. Personally, Sebastian preferred Genevieve’s appearance, but he was a biased man.

  The publican explained they were dividing everyone up into teams. Wagons had been arranged to take each team to a separate location in a five-mile radius, and Sebastian piled into a wagon with other farmhands who’d volunteered.

  They’d been assigned to work in a region in the woods, and they scoured the area, stepping through twigs and fallen leaves. Birds cawed, and squirrels scurried out of their way, their tails visible as they dashed away from the torches.

  Sebastian searched for any sign of the duke, hoping they wouldn’t happen upon the man’s dead body. They marched up and down the forest. They hollered, listening for some sign that the duke was alive.

  There was nothing.

  Absolutely nothing.

  The other men didn’t seem disturbed by this result, recognizing they’d already been paid, even if none of them had won a large reward. Finally, the wagon returned to bring them back to the public house.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  A CLICK SOUNDED, AND Genevieve woke from her slumber. Footsteps padded. No doubt, Sebastian was back. Genevieve raised her torso and slipped her toes onto the thin rug.

  She was going to tell Sebastian everything.

  She wasn’t going to wait until morning, when he would slip away for work early, and she wasn’t going to wait until after he returned from work on that day. She couldn’t take the risk that Mama would convince her again that she shouldn’t tell him.

  No, this was the correct thing to do.

  Genevieve put on her robe and strode down the stairs. She inched slowly, wary of unexpected creaks.

  When she reached the landing, she quickened her steps.

  “Sweetheart?” Sebastian’s voice sounded tired, but she couldn’t mistake the note of enthusiasm. “You’re beautiful in the moonlight.”

  “Oh?” she squeaked.

  Too late she remembered they weren’t truly married, and that she should be dressed in something more suitable to talk with a man.

  “I wanted to speak with you,” she said.

  “I always want to speak with you.”

  Well.

  It would almost be easier to tell him everything if he remembered that he hated her.

  No doubt, he would hate her again soon. Genevieve remembered what that was like. She wondered if he would ever remember as well. For his sake, she hoped so.

  “There’s something you should know.” She despised the tremble in her voice.

  “Indeed?” The corridor was dark, but she could imagine his face drawing into a frown. “What is it, sweetheart?”

  “You mustn’t call me that,” she said, her tone serious.

  For a moment, there was silence. Then he chuckled. “I hope you haven’t met another man while I was away at work.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “Then what is it?”

  She sighed. This was so difficult to say.

  Finally, she blurted, “I did something bad. Something horrible. You might never forgive me.”

  He stilled, then drew her toward him. Her heart pitched. He wasn’t supposed to be hugging her. He was supposed to be interrogating her.

  “My poor dear,” he said. “I’m sure whatever it was, wasn’t so horrible.”

  “It was,” she said miserably.

  “Then perhaps it was deserved.”

  “It wasn’t.”

  He sighed. “When did it happen?”

  She was silent.

  “Was it before I woke?”

  “I—er—suppose so. But it is related. There’s something I haven’t told you.”

  “Genevieve, you are the love of my life. There is absolutely nothing that you could do that would upset me.”

  “You’re being sweet.”

  “Only because you deserve it,” he said. “Now, there’s much that I’ve discovered that I would like to change. There’s much that I’m ashamed of.”

  “But—”

  He put a finger to her lips, and she stopped, taken aback by the feel of his flesh against her lips. “Now, I don’t want to hear any more of it.”

  “Truly?”

  “Truly,” he said, stroking her hair. “You’re so beautiful.”

  “I don’t deserve you,” she said, feeling a sob threatening to form in her throat.

  “Balderdash.” He continued to kiss her hair. “Do you know how lucky I am to wake up to be a member of such a sweet, loving family?”

  “But you must know—”

  “No,” he said firmly. “The present is what matters. Don’t dwell on past mistakes. Just focus on making the present better, on making our future better.”

  “You are a darling man,” she said, and her voice caught.

  “And you are the very best woman.”

  Then he kissed her.

  This time they weren’t kissing in the woods. This time they were kissing in the corridor in the midst of the night.

  “We shouldn’t—”

  “You forget, my dear, that you’re my wife.” His voice was so proud, so confident, and Genevieve couldn’t bear to tell him that this wasn’t true. Kissing Sebastian seemed a far more preferable occupation. In fact, kissing Sebastian was moved to the very top of her pleasures, topping even the joys of early morning strolls.

  So she continued to kiss him.

  She succumbed to the pleasant sensation of his lips moving with hers, and of his arms caressing her locks, her back, her bottom.

  “Someone might hear...” she whispered, pulling away from him reluctantly.

  In the next moment, he swept her into his arms and carried her toward the drawing room.

  “Sebastian?”

  “It’s the furthest room from your relatives,” he said. “Though I think you’re underestimating the sturdiness of this stone. Our medieval ancestors were quite clever beings.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Absolutely.” He kissed her more. “They must have anticipated this moment.”

  Genevieve pondered how unlikely it was that they would end up precisely here. To think that the masked man she’d met in Cumberland, the duke angry she was living in his cottage, to think that he’d been such a brilliant man all along. She hadn’t seen it. She wouldn’t have seen it, unless that wave hadn’t pushed Sebastian’s head against that rock. She pulled him closer to him, eager to vanquish any air between them.

  Sebastian placed her gently on the chaise. Then he climbed beside her pulling her into his strong arms, continuing to kiss her.

  He feathered kisses on her face, then moved to her neck.

  She moved her hands tentatively over his body and inhaled his scent. “You smell like the woods.”

  He chuckled. “I found an extra job for the night.”

  “Oh? Was it interesting?”

  “Nothing compares to you, my dear.”

  They kissed more and more and more.

  Happiness swelled through her, even though happiness wasn’t what she should be feeling.

  And yet...

  Perhaps Sebastian was correct. Perhaps they could be together. Perhaps she was overthinking everything. She preferred to muse over the feel of his lips, of his body, than ponder this. Minutes passed. Long, delightful minutes.

  Genevieve’s heartbeat quickened.

  “This is wrong,” she blurted.

  He paused. “Why?”

  The word echoed in the air. They were married. What would be more
natural than if they did such things? Telling Sebastian to no longer clutch her in his arms, to no longer kiss and nibble on her skin, to no longer stroke her hair and skin seemed absurd.

  She craved his touch.

  Instead, she pulled him toward her, conscious of wide shoulders, so different from hers, and a hard, muscular chest. She inhaled his scent of cotton and slight woodsy scent.

  Naturally, she could run upstairs and slip back into her mother’s bed...but she didn’t want to. He pushed himself against her core, and the area dampened. Surprise moved through her, and he eased inside her. He moved back and forth. A slight pain made her ache, but it was meager. His touch soon distracted her, making her body sing.

  Pleasure moved through her. It was no longer cold, even though it was late at night. The chaise was no longer uncomfortable.

  Then an odd feeling moved through her, and everything expanded.

  “Something—”

  “Sweetheart?” His pleasant voice was immediate.

  She tightened her grip on his neck, then the world shattered and shook. Sebastian clung onto her, seeming to feel the same shaking. Then he kissed her forehead, multiple times, and removed himself from her, though he still lay beside her.

  Her heart beat, as she realized what had happened.

  She waited to feel regret, but the only emotion she felt was happiness.

  SEBASTIAN HAD MARRIED a goddess. He’d been tired and exhausted when he’d returned from an evening of searching in vain for sign of the poor duke.

  He clutched onto Genevieve. He’d almost died, like the missing duke may well have done. But he’d survived, and he wasn’t going to let Genevieve worry about past misdeeds.

  He kissed her and kissed her and kissed her.

  Kissing Genevieve was already his very favorite thing in the world. He’d suspected he’d been a strong proponent of it early on, but having her in his arms was different.

  He kissed her soft lips. “I love you.”

  For a moment, there was silence. Then she whispered, “I love you.”

  His heart swelled. He pulled her back into his arms. “Tonight you sleep with me.”

  “Oh?” Her voice rumbled pleasantly, and she clung onto him.

  “Absolutely.” He carried her to his room and set her down on his bed. Then he scrambled in after her and pulled her against his chest.