Undercover Duke

by Sabrina Jeffries

  How had Mr. Bonham managed to do it for so long without being caught? Perhaps he hadn’t embezzled anything during the days of Sheridan’s grandfather. Then, once Uncle Armie took over—a man who, by all accounts, wasn’t terribly interested in such matters—Mr. Bonham had been better able to siphon off funds. He could have drained away the money and deemed it overspending on Uncle Armie’s part.

  A frisson of fear swept her. Sheridan and his siblings were nearly certain that Uncle Armie had been murdered. What if Mr. Bonham had let his greed govern his actions and had become more blatant in his stealing? Perhaps even the negligent Uncle Armie had noticed something was wrong. If he’d threatened Mr. Bonham with the possibility of firing him or having him arrested . . .

  She shivered. That would mean Mr. Bonham had murdered Uncle Armie. And Sheridan had said his father was adamant about Sheridan learning to examine the books on his own. Perhaps Sheridan’s father had suspected Mr. Bonham of embezzlement, too. Perhaps Mr. Bonham had murdered him for the same reason.

  Then when Sheridan had come along, clearly having issues with seeing numbers correctly, Mr. Bonham had probably decided not to worry about being caught, thinking that Sheridan would never notice his small, purposeful errors.

  Arrogant scoundrel! She’d been told Mr. Bonham was a man of some wealth. Now she wondered if he’d just been stealing from the Armitage dukedom or from others of his clients as well.

  Their butler appeared in the doorway to the study. “Your Grace, Mr. Bonham is here. He has an appointment with the duke. Shall I show him in?”

  “Has the duke not returned?” she asked.

  “Not yet, no.”

  “Does Mr. Bonham know that?”

  “I don’t believe so. I certainly didn’t tell him.”

  “Very judicious of you.” She debated what to do. But she didn’t want Mr. Bonham anywhere near her without Sheridan there. Especially now that she knew he couldn’t be trusted. “Why don’t you tell him to wait, Phipps? Say that my husband is busy doing something else and will be with him shortly.”

  “Very good, Your Grace.”

  As soon as the butler left, she went back to perusing the ledger. She should probably find another ledger from an earlier time. She stood and went to the bookshelf where Sheridan kept them to see if she could find one. It would help determine if—

  “Where is His Grace?” a hard voice asked.

  She jumped. “Good heavens, you startled me, Mr. Bonham,” she said, her heart pounding in her ears. She took a second to compose herself before turning to face him with what she hoped was a duchess’s imperious manner. “Phipps must have misunderstood when I told him to have you wait.”

  “He stuck me in a parlor and left. The duke is never late for our appointments, so where is he?”

  “That’s none of your concern,” she said, copying Mama’s tone of aristocratic condescension. “He’ll be here shortly, I’m sure. Perhaps you would prefer to wait in the parlor until he arrives.”

  Ignoring her tone, he entered the room. “What are you doing with the duke’s ledgers?”

  “I’m tidying up, of course,” she said. “He had a number of them strewn on his desk, and he asked me to put them away.”

  Mr. Bonham looked a bit suspicious still. “Can’t imagine why he’d need more than the current ledger.”

  “I can’t either,” she said blithely. “Not that I would know anything about bookkeeping. It’s all Greek to me.”

  “Is it?” He edged nearer the desk.

  That was when she realized that her piece of paper, where she’d worked out what the true numbers were supposed to be, lay right there in plain sight.

  But he hadn’t seemed to have noticed it yet. She walked back over to the desk as nonchalantly as she could manage. “I’m sure my husband will be here any minute. Would you like some refreshment? Tea? Coffee?”

  Meanwhile, she slid the sheet of paper beneath the ledger, trying to be unobtrusive.

  Apparently not unobtrusive enough, for Mr. Bonham loomed up next to the desk and said, “What’s that you’re hiding?”

  “Hiding! Why would I be hiding anything?”

  “That’s an excellent question,” he snapped. “Why would you?” And before she could even react, he slid the piece of paper out from under the ledger and into his hand.

  He perused it carefully. Then he met her gaze. “The duke knows. Or at least suspects.”

  “Knows what? Suspects what?” she said, fighting to appear flighty.

  “You can stop pretending to be stupid now, Duchess. I am no fool. And I want to know everything you and the duke have figured out about my accounting practices.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  As soon as Sheridan’s coach pulled up in front of Armitage House, they spotted Bonham’s phaeton parked there and his groom sitting on a step awaiting his master. At the sight, Sheridan’s blood turned to ice.

  Not bothering to wait for Joshua and Gwyn, as soon as the coach stopped, Sheridan leapt out and ran up the steps. When he entered, his butler said, “Oh, there you are, Your Grace. Mr. Bonham is awaiting you.”

  “Awaiting me where?”

  “In the parlor, of course. Since you hadn’t arrived yet, the duchess told me to put him there until you did.”

  “Thank God,” Sheridan muttered and strode to the parlor they used for tradesmen and the like.

  But it was empty.

  Sheridan hurried back to the entryway. “He’s not there.”

  “But . . . but that’s where I left him,” Phipps said.

  “Apparently he didn’t stay put.”

  Gwyn and Joshua entered, and Sheridan explained the situation.

  “So he’s quite possibly alone with Vanessa,” Gwyn said.

  “Yes.”

  Sheridan turned for the hallway, but before he could march down it to his study, Joshua grabbed his arm. “We have to be smart about this. Remember the plan. We have no reason to believe that Bonham suspects anything. He’s been with all of us socially many a time. We might still find him chatting with Vanessa.”

  “That’s what worries me. I told you, she thinks he’s simply a bad accountant. At worse, she suspects him of being an embezzler.”

  “If she has even considered the possibility that he’s embezzling, she will hide her opinions. You need to learn to trust your wife, Sheridan. She has good instincts.”

  Even knowing his brother-in-law was right, Sheridan could hardly keep from barreling down the hall and into his study with guns blazing. “It’s not her I distrust. Bonham didn’t get this far along—fooling everyone he came into contact with and killing those who caught on—without being both perceptive and deceptive. It has proved a deadly combination.”

  Worry knit Gwyn’s brow. “I’ll go stay with Mama.” She turned to Phipps. “Where is my mother just now?”

  Phipps was eyeing the two men with blatant curiosity. “The last time I saw her, my lady, she was in the music room.”

  “Thank you, Phipps,” Gwyn said and headed for the stairs.

  Perhaps Joshua was right, and everything would be fine. So why did Sheridan have this instinct telling him Vanessa’s life was at stake?

  Joshua turned to Sheridan. “Ready?”

  Sheridan checked the loaded pistol tucked into the fall of his trousers, and the other in the tail pocket of his coat. “Ready.”

  “Give me a few minutes to get into position.”

  With a terse nod, Sheridan watched as Joshua headed for the closest door leading out into the courtyard garden. He waited as long as he could bear it, then walked down the hall to his study. The door was closed, damn it.

  Pasting a look of nonchalance to his face, he carefully lifted the door handle and opened the door.

  He walked in to find Bonham holding Vanessa’s arm and they both stood behind the desk, looking down at something. The minute the arse saw Sheridan, he thrust a pistol to Vanessa’s head. “Your wife already took me for a fool. So I suggest you do not.”
/>   Sheridan’s heart damned near stopped right there. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said hoarsely. He stared into Vanessa’s frightened eyes and gave her a speaking look he hoped she understood.

  I won’t let him hurt you. I’d rather die first. I love you.

  God, how he wished he’d said the words sooner.

  “Pull the door to,” Bonham said. “I don’t want some servant witnessing our conversation.”

  Sheridan did as Bonham said, although he itched to throw himself across the desk and get his hands around Bonham’s throat instead. But Bonham’s position meant he could shoot Vanessa with deadly accuracy, while Sheridan risked hitting her if he fired a shot. Given the bodies the man had left behind him, Bonham wouldn’t hesitate to do it, either. Sheridan couldn’t endanger her. Wouldn’t endanger her.

  That was why when Sheridan saw Joshua appear through the glass of the French doors behind Bonham, it was not a relief. “What do you want?” Sheridan said. “I won’t let you take her.” He shook his head as if to emphasize the words, and Joshua nodded to show he understood Sheridan’s signal that it wasn’t safe to shoot Bonham. Yet.

  “You have no choice,” Bonham said. “She’ll be fine as long as you don’t follow us. As soon as I get clean away, I’ll release her. You have my word.”

  “The word of a thief. What good is that?”

  “I knew it!” Bonham hissed. “Your wife denied the possibility that you had caught on to my financial indiscretions, but once I saw her notes, I knew she was lying.”

  “I didn’t catch on to anything,” Sheridan said. “Vanessa did. She’s a clever sort, my wife.”

  “She’ll be a dead clever sort if you don’t let us leave. Now!” He started dragging her around the desk, while Sheridan’s heart dropped into his stomach.

  “You’re not leaving here with her,” Sheridan said, thrusting his hand in his fall to seize his pistol handle. Best to be prepared for anything. “Take me instead. That will make it more likely that you escape. And it will drive a stake through Mother’s heart. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To hurt my mother the way she hurt your family?”

  As Vanessa’s eyes widened, Bonham scowled. “What do you know about it? You’ve never suffered a day in your life.”

  “No? I lost my father and my uncle all in the same year, thanks to you. So I know quite a bit about suffering.”

  Someone burst through the study door behind Sheridan. “William!” a voice cried. “What on earth are you doing?”

  It was Mother, damn it. “Get out of here,” Sheridan said, never taking his eyes off Bonham. “I’ll handle this.”

  “I’m not leaving,” she said stoutly. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

  Sheridan debated how much to reveal. But she might know something the rest of them didn’t, something to help save Vanessa. “Bonham killed your husbands,” Sheridan said. “And Uncle Armie and Elias.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Mother said. “He would never . . . He couldn’t . . .” She trailed off as she realized Bonham hadn’t defended himself.

  “He’s not the man you think he is,” Sheridan said. “You would have known him as Henry Davenport.”

  “Matthew’s brother?” she whispered.

  “Yes. So you knew Henry, too, did you?” Sheridan asked.

  “I never met him, no, but I heard Matthew speak of him. Matthew said he was quite clever.”

  Bonham scowled at Sheridan. “How did you find out my real name?”

  “I didn’t. My brother-in-law did. Once he realized you’d made yourself over, the rest was easy. You didn’t hide your tracks nearly as well as you thought.”

  Bonham fixed Sheridan’s mother with a stare that would freeze blood. “Thanks to you, I lost everything, you know. Matthew killed himself, and my entire family was ruined, all because you thought him beneath you.”

  “That’s not true!” Mother protested. “I would happily have married Matthew if I could have! But Mama had already convinced Papa to betroth me to Grey’s father in exchange for forgiveness of certain debts. They told me if I didn’t marry the duke, Papa would go to debtors’ prison. I was young, and I . . . didn’t understand I had a choice.”

  “Liar!” Bonham spat, his face contorted with rage. “You broke Matthew’s heart. You told him you didn’t want him.”

  Mother glared at him. “By the time Matthew proposed, I was already betrothed! And my fiancé threatened to kill Matthew if I so much as breathed a word about the circumstances of our impending marriage.” Her breath caught in her throat. “It didn’t matter. Matthew died anyway.”

  “He didn’t die. He killed himself, you . . . you harpy! You might as well have tied the rope around his throat yourself.” Bonham’s pistol hand shook.

  Sheridan’s blood ran cold. If that arse harmed Vanessa—“See here, Bonham, whatever your conflicts with my mother, my wife has done nothing to you. She doesn’t deserve to die. Take me instead.”

  “The hell I will.” Bonham glanced from Sheridan to his mother. “If I take anyone in exchange, it will be the dowager duchess.”

  God, the man’s hatred of Mother went beyond all bounds.

  “I don’t understand, Will—I mean, Henry,” Mother said. “How could you pretend to be my friend this past year or more when secretly you despised me so?”

  Sheridan wondered that himself. Perhaps Mother, as Bonham’s “friend,” could convince the arse to let Vanessa go.

  If only the bastard would move his damned pistol. Sheridan was more than ready to shoot.

  Gwyn burst into the room. “Mother!” she cried, trying to tug their mother from the room. “Come, we must go. Let Sheridan take care of this.”

  “So,” Sheridan said to Bonham, “there’s four of us here now. Do you plan to kill us all? Because I swear that if you shoot Vanessa, you’re a dead man.” He stepped closer to the desk. “I will throttle you before you can even reload.”

  Having seen Sheridan on the move—and his wife in the room—Joshua loomed up closer to the French doors, making sure not to be directly behind Bonham in case Sheridan got off a shot.

  Gwyn at least knew to ignore the sight of her husband where he wasn’t supposed to be, but their mother was startled and clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out. As Bonham had said, he was no fool. When he saw her reaction, he turned toward the glass doors, and the pistol left Vanessa’s head for a few precious seconds.

  Sheridan knew that might be the only chance he got, and apparently Vanessa read his intention, because in that moment, she twisted away from Bonham and his pistol. And Sheridan took his chance and shot.

  The bullet went clean into Bonham’s head.

  Then everything happened at once. Bonham crumpled to the floor. Joshua burst through the French doors and used his cane to sweep Bonham’s still-loaded pistol away from the man before bending to check Bonham’s pulse. And Vanessa threw herself at Sheridan.

  “Oh, darling, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t realize he had sneaked in until it was too late to hide my notes, and he’d—”

  “It’s fine, sweetheart. Nothing is your fault. You did well, and it’s over now. Finally, it’s over.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and ran his gaze over her. “He didn’t hurt you, did he? You’re all right?”

  “Of course I’m all right.” She cast him a tremulous smile. “I’m with you, aren’t I?”

  “You will always be with me, if I have anything to say about it.”

  Joshua came up to them and murmured, “He’s dead. I’ll send for Fitzgerald. I’ll explain everything to him. You might want to take Vanessa out of here, though.” He glanced behind them. “It looks like Gwyn has already whisked your mother away.”

  With a nod, Sheridan looked over to find Vanessa staring back at Bonham with horror on her face. “Come, sweetheart, let’s go outside.”

  In the courtyard, she could see the winter roses and the ivy and all the things that made her happy. And he could keep an eye
out for when Lucius Fitzgerald, undersecretary to the War Secretary, arrived and needed to speak to him. Thank God for Joshua and his connections in government.

  As soon as they were out there, he caught her to him and kissed her forehead and cheeks and every part of her face dear to him, which was pretty much every part of her face. “I love you, my sweet, brave duchess. I should have said it before I had to face the possibility of losing you, but—”

  “You love me?” she said, her eyes alight. “You mean that?”

  He smiled. “Cross my heart and hope not to die. At least not until we’re old and gray.”

  “Then I suppose I can admit I love you, too, with all my heart and mind and body.” She kissed him just long enough to have him craving her again.

  But when he tried to deepen the kiss, she pulled away. “What about Helene?” she asked hesitantly.

  “What about her?”

  “You said you didn’t want to love again. Because of her.”

  “To quote my brilliant sister, ‘You don’t choose love; love chooses you. You have no say or recourse, and when it happens, resistance is pointless.’ I’ve been fighting hard to resist you, with absolutely no success.”

  He tipped up her chin, emotion clogging his throat. “In the past few days I’ve learned that the past shouldn’t eclipse the future or one ends up like Bonham—stuck, which is a dangerous place to be. I’ve been stuck in the past for far too long. I loved Helene once, true, but I’ve finally put her back where she belongs. You’re my present and my future, the woman I want to have children with, the woman I love. You’re my rising sun and my harvest moon. You’re everything I need, and nothing I have ever had. Until now.”

  Her flirtatious smile snagged his heart. He’d thought he might never see it again.

  But before he could kiss her, she straightened his cravat in a very wifely way. “It appears I was telling the truth, after all, when I informed Grey a year ago of my interest in a poet. You are more poet than I realized, my love.”