The Dangerous Duke of Dinnisfree

by Julie Johnstone

  The angry tears that flooded her eyes made his heart ache. Without thinking, he brushed back a few of the tears that trailed down her cheeks. The feel of her warm skin under his fingers sent a shot of desire though him, but not just for her body. It was more. A desire to cradle her. Protect her. Help her.

  Her mouth parted, and her eyes widened. He trailed his fingers down to her lips and traced the creases of them as his blood began to pound within. He wanted to kiss her again, but now was not the time or place. He slowly drew back his hand, but something had shifted. He felt it as if he could grasp it and hold it. He trusted her. Bloody stupid and dangerous.

  “Do you still have the letters?”

  She nodded.

  “Bring them to me and let me read them.”

  She frowned. “Why?”

  “Because, my dear, if the letters are as you say, I may be able to clear your brother’s name. I guarantee you, people will listen to me.”

  She leaped to her feet and was out the door in a blur. She returned before he’d had time to do much more than stand and pace the room. She thrust the letters at him. “There are four. Start with this one. It is the first.”

  He settled in and read the letters from start to finish. With each letter, his anger grew. When he looked up, she was watching him intently.

  “Do you believe me?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Yes, and I know Lord Halbrook, your brother’s commander. He’s despicable. May I take these letters?”

  “Yes, of course. But what can you do?”

  “I can get your brother’s honorable name restored and Lord Halbrook dismissed immediately.”

  “However can you do that?”

  “My dear,” he said in a self-assured tone that he hoped would keep her from asking more questions that he’d have to answer with lies, “I’m the Duke of Dinnisfree. There are many things I can do that other men cannot. I have very powerful allies, and they listen to me.” He’d get word to Davenport, his only true friend and the only man he trusted—as much as he could allow himself to, at least. Davenport could relay his request to the Duke of York, who had the power to clear Arabella’s brother’s name.

  “Thank you,” she cried, throwing her arms around him and hugging him fiercely. He froze, unable to move because emotion clogged his throat and had done something funny to his limbs. Her gratitude, the affection she poured onto him, had the effect on his body of being shoved into freezing water. He was not used to such things.

  He sat there for a moment, his arms hanging useless at his side, and then, slowly, he wrapped his arms around her slight body and hugged her back. He’d never given a woman a hug beyond his mother. It was nice. Enjoyable, but slightly uncomfortable, too. This sort of embrace was more emotional than physical, and he didn’t do emotional.

  He pulled back until he could see her face. “What happened after your brother was killed?”

  Her lips pressed into a hard line. “They informed us of his death and of his dishonor. Papa had a stroke and was dismissed from service almost immediately.”

  Justin was surprised the queen had not taken pity and let the man continue on in her service for a bit, in name only, of course. She was usually more tenderhearted.

  “The king himself sealed the letter of dismissal and notice of dishonor,” Arabella said, her voice vibrating with anger.

  Damned Prinny! Justin barely controlled his tongue. Of course! It made sense now. Arabella was probably perfectly right that Lord Halbrook had been jealous of her brother and wanted to eliminate his competition. And Lord Halbrook’s father and Prinny were close friends. If the son had appealed to his father and his father had appealed to Prinny… Well, Prinny was not known for his sound judgment.

  Howick’s accusation flashed in Justin’s memory. Was he supporting the king simply because his father had ruthlessly hammered it into him to do so? Doubt crept into his mind.

  Arabella yawned again, and Justin noted the purple smudges under her eyes. She needed sleep, but he required a few more answers first. “I suppose your parents despise the king for dismissing your father and setting your brother into the records as dishonorable.”

  “If they do, they never said as much. Mother lost her mind very shortly after Daniel died and Papa had the stroke. I think it was simply too much for her to take. And Papa…” Arabella shrugged. “He’s always kept his own council and rarely discusses politics, though I do know the queen sent him a note expressing her apologies and regret, saying her hands were tied.”

  Justin nodded his head. That alone would be enough to make a man loyal to the queen and not the king. “I imagine you’re tired,” he ventured. He needed to search this home, and the sooner she went to sleep and he could do so, the better.

  It didn’t take long for Arabella to doze off after he’d convinced her to close her eyes and rest her head. He promised her that he’d watch over her father and if anything should seem amiss, he’d wake her.

  Later, as he crept from room to room while continually darting back to check on Arabella’s father, Justin was cursing himself. This woman was doing something to him. He barely knew her, yet she managed to anger him and amuse him all at once. And then, in the next moment, she aroused his desire. Since meeting her, he had doubted himself and his allegiance—things he’d never questioned before. She was a disturbance to the order of his life.

  With great effort, he pushed her out of his thoughts to concentrate on searching the house. He did so methodically until he’d combed every room and the sun was creeping up in the horizon. He was well aware that the sense of relief filling him because he’d not found the letters was wrong. He should want to find them immediately, no matter who had them, and set the matter to rest for the king. But that had not been his reaction, and it was a problem. An enormous one.

  By the time Justin fell back into the chair near Arabella, he had passed the state of tiredness that had plagued him and moved into a stage of being hyperalert. Bright orange and red shafts of light streamed through the window and touched the top of Arabella’s dark, silky head. Justin stared at her, slumped against the side of the chair she sat in. He’d tucked a blanket around her earlier, and though it covered her from head to foot, she still looked alluring. Her dark lashes lay against her pale cheeks. Her lips were parted ever so slightly, and every once in a while she’d moan and turn her head to the side only for it to fall back against the chair as before.

  When the sun came fully up and filled the room with light, her eyes fluttered open and she gazed at him with a wondrous expression. “You’re still here.”

  “Yes.” He was acutely aware of how his pulse notched up by simply looking at her. “I told you I would stay and watch over your father while you slept.”

  “I know, but—” She bit her lip.

  “But what?”

  “I didn’t think you’d truly stay.”

  He shouldn’t have. He had a hundred things he needed to be doing, one of which was to see Davenport so he could get Arabella’s brother’s name cleared. He also needed to search out the king’s letters, but in order to do that he had to track down Ruby. “Where were you planning on taking me today to find Ruby?”

  “To Crockford’s Club.” Arabella glanced between her sleeping father and Justin. “I’ll ask Alice to stay with my father so I can go with you.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “It is,” she said with quiet intensity. “I need to take the money you are going to pay me to the Stanhope Home, so I must go out no matter what.”

  “All right,” he nodded, understanding. Both her parents needed her, and she was trying to be strong and be everywhere at once. An impossible feat. He had a solution. “I’ll take the money to the Stanhope Home for you.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I need to check on my mother and speak with her. I want to ensure she’s being treated well.”

  “Do you have concerns that she’s not?”

  “Yes. The warden’s son, well, he…” Her words
trailed off and her jaw tensed. “I have reason to want to ensure he’s not around my mother.”

  “Leave that to me, Arabella,” Justin said, standing. Anger unfurled in his gut and spread through his body like fire, hot and consuming. Hell, he had to regain his control.

  Arabella stood and faced him. “I can handle it,” she said defiantly.

  He set his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the face. “I’ve no doubt you can, but the cold hard truth is I can put the fear of death into the man and you cannot. Let me help you.”

  She opened her mouth as if she might argue more, but she slowly nodded. “For my mother.”

  “Yes,” he answered, understanding her reluctance. Arabella relied only on herself, exactly as he did. It had to be difficult to trust him, but he’d not let her down. Not in this. “I’ll be back to collect you in two hours.”

  “Tell me again who this chit is to you that you’d beg such a favor?” Davenport asked, leaning back in his desk chair.

  Justin tugged an irritated hand through his hair. He’d just spent the last hour bringing Davenport up to date on his current assignment, which included how he’d met Arabella and how she was aiding him. Hell, Justin had even revealed how Arabella had broken his nose, and he never exposed personal things. He was impatient to leave and collect his little helper.

  Impatience. Anger. Irritation. It was unlike him to feel any of it strongly, but now each emotion washed over him like a wave. Davenport’s assessing look was indicative that the man was just getting started with his probing questions, only further irritating Justin.

  “She’s no one,” Justin clipped.

  “No one?” Davenport quirked an eyebrow. “You have decided to bring this woman into your trust—”

  “I never said that,” he growled, drumming his fingers on the armrest of the leather chair.

  Davenport placed his palms on his desk and stared hard at Justin. “You told me moments ago that this woman knew where to find the painter’s lover who stole Lady Conyngham’s jewelry box, therefore inadvertently taking the king’s letters, did you not?”

  Justin inclined his head.

  “So you have put your trust in this woman that she’s not leading you away from the letters.”

  “She’s not, damn it,” Justin thundered, surprising himself with the vehemence of his response when he’d raised those same doubts in his private thoughts. “You don’t know her. She…she has an honesty about her, and a kindness,” he said, feeling like a supreme fool.

  “As do you,” Davenport said. “And I fear your inherent compassion is now clouding your judgement.”

  Justin frowned at Davenport’s words. “I am not compassionate, and I never let anything or anyone sway me.”

  “Oh, really?” Davenport said in a sarcastic tone. “I know about the Morgans. I know you supported the family until you could find work for Alex, and I know you continue to aid them.”

  Justin stilled, his mind flashing to the guard the king had dismissed in a fit last year because Alex Morgan had dared to tell the king he should not stroll about the gardens without an attendant. Morgan had been absolutely correct. The king was not well liked and to go about without protection was folly. But Prinny liked no man telling him what to do and had dismissed Morgan and forbid anyone to hire the man. Morgan’s wife had come to Justin begging for help when they could not feed their children, so Justin had done what he could. It was as simple as that. He narrowed his eyes. “How do you know that?”

  Davenport smiled slightly. “Mrs. Morgan is now a cook in my household and my wife is quite chummy with the servants. She befriended Mrs. Morgan, who mentioned after you were here one day that you were like an angel sent to her family. You can imagine how the statement sparked Audrey’s curiosity.”

  Justin could well imagine. Davenport’s wife was rather inquisitive and not the type to be dissuaded when she wanted to know something. “I did what any man would have done had a woman come and pleaded for help and revealed that her five children were in danger of starving.”

  Davenport shook his head. “No. Most men would not dare to help a man the king had shunned for fear of Prinny’s anger, but you dared because your compassion would not let you do otherwise.”

  Justin forced a laugh to cover his mounting irritation. “One act of charity does not make me compassionate or kind.”

  “I would be more inclined to agree with you if it were merely only one act of kindness, but it’s not. You took that page Langley under your wing when he could not learn the simplest of tasks and you taught him his job. I’ve seen you personally on six different occasions slip money into the pockets of street urchins when you think no one is looking.”

  Justin’s nostrils flared. “What is your point?” he demanded, not liking that Davenport knew about and was bringing up things for which Justin could not explain his motives. He’d felt a gut instinct to do those things and nothing more.

  Davenport steepled his fingers in front of his face for a moment and regarded Justin over the tips. Finally, he lowered them. “I’ll do you the favor you ask for her brother. You know I will. I’ve no doubt what happened with her brother occurred exactly as you’ve been told. But do me a favor.”

  “What?” Justin demanded, not wanting this conversation to go on any longer. He didn’t talk about personal issues because he had none. Or at least he hadn’t until now. He’d managed to go through life with one goal: to serve king and country. That had been enough.

  “Let me do a bit of digging into her family, her father. You certainly should, and you know it. He held the queen’s favor, for Christ’s sake, and plays cards and sups with two of the queen’s staunchest supporters. Don’t tell me there’s no connection between the woman’s father, Brougham, Howick, and the missing letters. If nothing else, they must be looking for them, just as you are, but to use them in the queen’s favor.”

  “I’ve already thought of that,” Justin said grimly. He was well aware there was likely something connecting Arabella’s father, the other men, and the letters. What it might be, he couldn’t damn well say, but he didn’t think Arabella had anything to do with it. “I’m going to investigate it further,” he relented.

  “How?”

  Justin gritted his teeth. “For a retired spy you’re damned annoying and persistent.”

  Davenport flashed Justin a grin. “You mean a great deal to me, Dinnisfree. That’s the only time I’ll ever tell you that, so don’t beg me to repeat it when you’re feeling down about yourself.”

  Justin snorted as Davenport chuckled. “I’m supremely glad to see a crack in your armor of coldness—”

  “There’s no crack,” Justin interrupted.

  “There is.” He pointed at Justin’s chest. “It’s just there. Right now, it’s only a tiny fissure, but I think it would be the best thing in the world for you if it became a yawning cavern. If the woman is worthy of your trust, of course.”

  “I don’t give a damn about giving my trust to a woman, or anyone for that matter.”

  Davenport gave him a smug look. “So says the fox to the wolf. I was exactly as you before I met Audrey.”

  “I’m not like you. I’m not going to change because of a woman.”

  Davenport shook his head. “You’re already changing, you blind fool.”

  Justin, knowing there was truth to what Davenport said, stubbornly stared at his friend and allowed the silence to stretch between them. Davenport shook his head. “The old you would not know the personal history of a woman and her family unless that history served to get you what you want, and unless you want this woman, I cannot see how the favor you are asking of me benefits you at all.”

  “It doesn’t,” Justin clipped. He did want her, as Davenport had stated. He desired her, nothing more. Except it was a bit more. He also wanted to help her.

  “Mmm, exactly as I stated. What are you going to do to ensure you’re not being duped?”

  “I’m going to keep my damned eyes and ears open. I
need not do more than that. I’m a trained spy, for Christ’s sake. And she’s a…she’s a—”

  “Woman you clearly desire,” Davenport finished. “Desire can muddle the lines of duty. Take it from me.”

  “I’ve known this woman for less than twenty-four hours,” Justin ground out.

  Davenport made a derisive sound in his throat. “I knew within the first hour of meeting Audrey that she was the one for me. She had an odd effect on me, as no one ever had.”

  Hellfire. That sounded all too familiar, but he’d never admit it. “I’d never retire from the king’s service over a woman as you did.”

  “Is that what you think?” Davenport growled as he whipped to his feet.

  Justin nodded. Davenport had been married before his current wife to a double-crossing French spy who was now dead, and though his friend had never said it, Justin had always assumed Davenport had left Prinny’s service because of his dead wife and uncertainty over where his loyalties lay—with the king or his wife.

  “I retired,” Davenport grumbled as he paced back and forth behind his desk, “because I started to doubt my allegiance.”

  Justin nodded. “As I said, your wife became more important to you than your king.”

  “Yes,” Davenport said, voice low. “But I also doubted the king and was unsure that I believed in him.”

  Justin stilled.

  “It would be very true to say that once I met Audrey I knew I would choose her over any person on this Earth, including myself. She has every ounce of loyalty I possess in my body, and that left no room to be a spy. But it does not mean my allegiance does not lie with the king, as long as he still has good men to guide him.”

  Justin’s own doubts tried to rattle their cages, making him shift in physical discomfort. Davenport knew him better than anyone… If there was anyone he could talk to about his own loyalties, it was him.