Regarding the Duke

by Grace Callaway

  “Besides, how do you know that this isn’t the real Adam Garrity?” Tessa’s head tilted thoughtfully. “Perhaps he secretly thought you were beautiful all along but never said it. Perhaps this new version is the real one and the previous one was fake.”

  “Why would he keep his admiration of Gabby a secret?” Emma asked.

  “How am I supposed to know?” Tessa shrugged. “I’m not Garrity. I’m just giving him the benefit of the doubt since he got shot doing me a favor.”

  “But your hypothesis is even worse,” Gabby said morosely. “For it would mean that I never knew my husband at all.”

  As she said the words, she felt a frisson of fear. A chill that snaked up her spine and stirred the hairs on her nape. That ended up as a whisper in her ear.

  Jessabelle.

  Had she ever known her husband? What secrets had he kept from her?

  That, she saw with a flash of insight, was the true cost of having walls in her marriage. They provided security and a place to hide, yes…but they also allowed secrets to take root. Doubt and suspicion could flourish in the wake of those secrets, spreading like ivy and overrunning happiness.

  “Gabby, you’re so pale,” Emma said. “Are you quite all right?”

  “Have some tea, my dear.” Maggie made up a fresh cup and passed it to her.

  She took a fortifying sip of the beverage, liberally doctored with sugar and cream. The warmth that flowed through her came not only from the tea but also her friends’ care. Even after all these years, she had to remind herself that she was no longer the outcast she once was. These beautiful, sweet ladies were her friends. Time and again, they’d supported her without judgement.

  A few months earlier, after she’d confronted Adam about the fire at The Gilded Pearl and he’d denied having a mistress, she’d confided her suspicions to Emma and Tessa. She’d tried to respect the privacy of her marriage and hadn’t told them everything, only that she feared that her husband had had an intimate connection to a victim of the brothel fire. Talking to them then had helped her to reflect upon matters and allay some of her worries; perhaps it would also help her now.

  “I think Adam may have had a mistress,” she said in a quavering voice.

  She told them about Jessabelle. And her fear that Jessabelle was the “someone important” who’d perished in the bawdy house fire.

  “A name’s not much to go on.” Tessa rubbed her ferret’s belly with contemplative strokes. “Jessabelle could be anyone…even a pet.”

  Hearing it from someone else was ever so relieving.

  “I thought the name had a rather bovine ring to it,” Gabby said eagerly.

  “Not to mention he uttered the name in the throes of a fever. It could mean anything—or nothing.” A line formed between Emma’s brows. “When you asked him about it, he had no recollection of this name?”

  “None whatsoever,” Gabby confirmed.

  “Then there’s no way of knowing who this Jessabelle is, is there?” Maggie mused.

  “Actually, there is one way,” Tessa said.

  All eyes turned to her.

  “I could find out the names of all who died in the fire. See if there was a Jessabelle.”

  “You can do that?” Maggie asked as dread percolated through Gabby.

  “I’m the Duchess of Covent Garden,” Tessa said simply. “I can get a complete list of names…if Gabby wants me to.”

  “Do you want her to, Gabby?” Emma asked.

  It struck Gabby how tired she was. Not just physically, but emotionally. She was tired of hiding from the truth, of living with doubt. She’d come to a crossroads in her marriage: she couldn’t move forward if she was mired in the quicksand of the past.

  A part of her feared that she was betraying her husband. Yet wasn’t she betraying their marriage if she had the means to discover the truth and lacked the courage to use it? Besides, if she was to believe in Adam’s vow of fidelity, then this had to be some sort of misunderstanding. If she could clear it up, then the ghost of Jessabelle would haunt their relationship no longer.

  “Yes.” She straightened her shoulders. “I must know the truth.”

  “Leave it to me,” Tessa said.

  The door opened, and Gabby’s heart thumped as Adam strode in. He was fully restored to his former self, lean and elegant in a blue frockcoat, his biscuit-colored trousers tucked into gleaming boots.

  He bowed to the group. “Ladies, I hope I am not intruding on your charming conversation.”

  “Um, no.” Gabby licked her lips nervously. “Not at all. We were just talking about…um…”

  “My ball,” the ever quick-witted Tessa supplied. “The one I’m throwing in honor of Ransom and Maggie’s engagement. It’s in a fortnight, and you’re both invited, of course. I was getting your wife’s advice since she’s the consummate hostess and tip-top when it comes to decorating and refreshments. Whereas I, myself, can’t tell the difference between a rose and a potato.”

  Adam looked amused. “Next time I see your husband, I’ll remind him of that. Advise the fellow not to throw away blunt on expensive bouquets.”

  “Harry already knows I prefer confections to flowers.” Smiling, Tessa rested her hand for a moment on her belly. “Especially nowadays.”

  Gabby had been taking in the exchange, silently thanking Tessa for the reprieve, when Adam turned back to her. His dark gaze honed in upon her face.

  “Is everything all right, pet?” he asked.

  Aware of her friends’ fascinated stares, Gabby said, “Y-yes. Why do you ask?”

  “You look tired. And I fear I am to blame.” He approached her as if the rest of the world ceased to exist, and it was only the two of them in this room. He brushed his thumb along her cheekbone, his eyes probing. “Poor wife, always helping and looking after everyone. Who is looking after you?”

  Mesmerized by his warm concern, she swallowed. “I-I’m fine.”

  “You ought to have a nap. If I had my way,” he murmured, “you’d stay the day in bed.”

  The male interest in his eyes was blatant and unmistakable. Who was this man who’d taken the place of her reserved husband? Wariness and longing trembled through her.

  “I have errands to run later,” she began.

  “Errands can wait. I want you to have a lie-down so you’ll be rested for tonight.”

  She blinked, trying to remember the schedule. “Do we have an event tonight?”

  “We do, and it’s a surprise.”

  Intrigued, she asked, “What kind of a surprise?”

  His mouth twitched. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”

  “We must be on our way.” Emma’s bright announcement broke the reverie.

  Gabby had forgotten her friends’ presence entirely. Blushing at her rudeness, she pleaded, “Please, do stay—”

  “Listen to your husband, dear. We know our way out.” Emma led the group to the door.

  “Get some rest, Gabby,” Maggie said with a warm smile.

  As the ladies exited, Gabby heard Tessa add with a catch of laughter, “I have a feeling you’re going to need it.”

  18

  When Gabby awoke, she was disconcerted to discover that it was nearly nine o’clock in the evening. After her friends departed, Adam had insisted she take a nap. She couldn’t believe she’d slept the entire afternoon and then some. Getting out of bed, she rang for Nell.

  As she sat at the dressing table, she saw that she did indeed look more refreshed. The sleep had helped, as had the talk with her friends. And if she felt a prick of guilt that she’d enlisted Tessa’s help in discovering the identity of Jessabelle, she pushed it aside. She was doing the right thing, taking steps to discover the truth. Her suspicions were likely worse than facing reality head-on, and they were preventing her from moving forward in her marriage.

  The changes in her husband were perturbing enough. She couldn’t manage those and simultaneously be worried about whether or not he had a lover—not without
becoming a candidate for Bedlam anyway. She’d reached full capacity when it came to worry; no more would fit into her mental categories. Something had to give. Besides, in her heart she trusted Adam: he’d told her he was faithful. Which meant Jessabelle, whoever she was, was just a mix-up, and the sooner the matter was cleared up, the better.

  Nell arrived with a cheery smile. “Feeling better, ma’am?”

  “Much better, thank you.” She yawned, then said sheepishly, “I’m feeling rather peckish. Would you have Cook prepare a tray?”

  “Oh, no, ma’am. You have to get dressed and come down. There’s a surprise waiting for you.”

  Gabby had forgotten all about Adam’s surprise. “What does Mr. Garrity have planned?”

  “We’ll get you ready, and you’ll find out,” Nell said, a merry twinkle in her eyes.

  Bemused, Gabby allowed the other to dress her in a sapphire evening gown. It was one of her favorites, with a modest square neckline and plenty of ruffles and trimmings on the bodice to hide any unsightly bulges. The skirts were full and flounced, all the better to obscure her lower half.

  Nell hummed as she worked on Gabby’s hair. She expertly tamed the red tresses into a bun at the back and braided the sides, looping the plaits over Gabby’s ears.

  Sensing the other’s good spirits, Gabby asked, “Have you had news from your beau?”

  “Indeed, ma’am.” Dimples appeared in Nell’s apple-round cheeks. “The value of my Tom’s shares in Grand London National Railway continues to rise. He says that after the unveiling of the new steam-powered locomotive next month—which Mr. De Villier claims will be the world’s fastest—the prices will soar sky-high. We’ll have enough money to get married and buy ourselves a home, we will.”

  “I’m ever so happy for you,” Gabby said sincerely. “Although I will miss you dreadfully.”

  “And I you. You’re the kindest mistress I’ve ever served, and if it weren’t for my Tom, I’d be reluctant to go.” Nell put the finishing touches on Gabby’s coiffure, winking at her in the looking glass. “But never mind me, ma’am. You have your own gentleman waiting for you.”

  Entering the dining room, Gabby stopped short.

  The austerely elegant room had been transformed…into a romantic paradise.

  Dozens of beeswax candles cast a warm and cozy glow over the cavernous space. Huge bouquets of hothouse blooms were everywhere, the scent of roses and greenery perfuming the air. The best table linens and silver had been laid out on the long dining room table, two place settings clustered intimately at one end.

  In the midst of it all was Adam. Dressed in formal black and white, he was the epitome of elegant virility. She couldn’t take her eyes off him as he drew near.

  “What is all this for?” she asked in amazement.

  “We’re celebrating.” Candlelight flickered in his eyes.

  “Your recovery, you mean?”

  “That too. But mostly we’re celebrating you.”

  “Me?” Her hand fluttered to her breast.

  “You, my dear.” He took her trembling hand and kissed it. “You’ve seen me through a difficult time. I want you to have a respite from the burdens you’ve been carrying.”

  As if on cue, the soothing strains of a quartet floated in from the adjoining room.

  “You hired musicians?” she asked stupidly.

  “I’ve been told I’m rich.” He flashed one of his new, easy grins which made her pulse race.

  Feeling as if she’d wandered into one of Fiona’s faerie tale plays, she allowed Adam to seat her at the table. Burke arrived with champagne; popping the cork, he filled their flutes with golden bubbly liquid.

  Adam lifted his glass. “Here’s to you, pet.”

  Shyly, she touched her glass to his and took a sip. Although she didn’t indulge often, champagne was one of her favorites. This vintage was delicious, crisp and icy cold, the bubbles tickling her nose.

  “I’m fond of champagne,” she admitted.

  “I know.”

  She blinked. “You remember?”

  “Unfortunately, no.” Above the pristine folds of his cravat, his lips curved in a rueful smile. “But hopefully my research will compensate for my lack of memory.”

  The fact that he’d made such an effort made her insides melt like a Gunter’s ice on a hot summer day. His “research” extended to the rest of the meal, she soon discovered. The first course was also one of her favorites: a bite-sized golden coquette of potatoes and shallots, topped with a spoonful of caviar and a dollop of crème fraiche.

  The pairing of the crispy, melt-in-the mouth potato with the salty pop of roe was divine. Noticing the intent way Adam was watching her eat, she blushed.

  “This is delicious,” she said. “Thank you for arranging such a lovely supper.”

  “You’re welcome. I have something else for you.” He placed a flat velvet box on the table. “A small token.”

  Now this was the Adam she knew. Her husband had always been generous when it came to material things. And she’d appreciated his gifts because they were symbols of his affection for her.

  “How kind of you, but you needn’t have,” she said, lifting the lid. “Oh.”

  She couldn’t help but gawk at the stunning diamond bracelet. The gems were set in white gold and fashioned to resemble a glittering vine. The detail in the metalwork showed flowers in various stages of bloom.

  “Do you like it?” he asked.

  “The craftsmanship is exquisite,” she breathed.

  “Let me help you with it.” Lifting the piece, he draped the diamonds over her wrist. The bracelet was a cool contrast to his warm touch as he secured the clasp. “There you are. It suits you very well.”

  His expression reminded her a bit of Max’s when he’d read a sentence aloud by himself. He looked so boyishly pleased with himself that she had to smile.

  “Thank you ever so much,” she said.

  “It is I who should be thanking you for your care this past month.”

  “As your wife, it is my duty to care for you.”

  “Duty?” he murmured. “Is that why you’ve tended to me?”

  Her heart thumping, she said, “Well, no…not only that. I mean to say, I am your wife. Obviously, I…” I love you, I’ve always loved you…but do I know you? “That is, my feelings go beyond mere duty.”

  “Our relationship is something I want to discuss with you,” he said smoothly. “You’ve been most patient and obliging with my many questions. I hope you will forgive me for asking more. These being of an intimate nature.”

  Reaching for her champagne, she took a nervous gulp. “Yes, of course.”

  He took the bottle from the ice-filled silver bucket and refilled her glass. “Were we happy?”

  She blinked at the unexpected query. “Yes, of course we were. Very happy.”

  “And we were comfortable with one another?”

  Her cheeks pulsed with sudden heat. Comfortable wasn’t a word she’d ever apply to her husband, then or now. It was hard to be entirely relaxed around a man who was so accomplished and commanding…so male. Compared to him, she felt as insignificant as a pebble next to a mountain. The recognition struck her: as much as she adored her husband, she’d never felt like she was his equal.

  “Is everything all right?” Adam was looking at her, his brow furrowed.

  Her throat tight, she was saved from answering by the arrival of the soup, which was her favorite…of course. Even with amnesia, Adam was flawless.

  “Lobster consommé.” She fixed her gaze on the clear broth. “How wonderful.”

  “Gabby, did I say something wrong?”

  “You called me Gabby.” She lifted her head in surprise. “You’ve never called me that.”

  “Right…I don’t like pet names. I forgot.” He ran a hand through his hair—another mannerism that didn’t belong to the husband she’d known. “It’s the damnedest thing, not remembering who I used to be.”

  His obvious frustratio
n filled her with empathy. As confusing as all this was for her, it must be even more so for him not to recall anything of their past.

  “You’ve made so much progress in a short time,” she soothed. “You must be patient. The rest will come back soon enough.”

  “And if it doesn’t? What if I’m never again the man you were once married to? The husband and father I used to be?”

  The vulnerability in his expression arrested her. Lines were carved around his mouth, his eyes stark as a winter’s night. The old Adam had been entirely self-composed. An island unto himself. But this Adam—the husband who was with her now—showed his emotions. He had fears, same as her. He needed her, and the realization was accompanied by a shock of tenderness.

  “Then we will simply have to get to know one another anew,” she said tremulously. “For better or worse. Those were the vows we exchanged on our wedding day.”

  “I want to know you, Gabriella.” His baritone had a rough edge. “More than anything.”

  On impulse, she reached out and touched his arm. “You may call me Gabby, if you prefer.”

  “I do prefer it.” His hand closed over hers, his grip warm and strong. The smoldering need in his gaze shook her to the marrow. “Gabby, will you tell me about yourself…help me to remember who you are?”

  He was asking for something he’d never asked of her before. The one thing that was more difficult than anything for her to give. She’d spent most of her life trying to hide, and now he was asking her to walk out into the light. Her heart pounded…yet she couldn’t look away from the yearning that transformed his austerity into something even more irresistible. Even more compelling.

  He’s your husband, the man you love.

  When he released her hand, she reached for her champagne and took a steadying sip.

  With a tentative smile, she asked, “What do you wish to know?”