The Duke and the Assassin

by Heather Slade

  I didn’t, though. Seated across from me was a very unhappy woman, and her reason for being so rested squarely on my shoulders.

  “Where will Kazmir and I be staying?” she asked. They were the first words she’d spoken to me in several minutes.

  “The main house for now. We can discuss where you’d be most comfortable, longer term, tomorrow.”

  She nodded, looking back out the window. “It’s beautiful,” I thought I heard her whisper.

  “That’s my favorite of the gardens,” said Pinch, pointing to the section where hollyhocks and wild roses grew. “I spent a lot of time in all twenty-eight acres of them, but that one brought me a certain peace.”

  I looked over at the faraway look on Pinch’s face.

  “My father and his father before him took great care to preserve the local biodiversity, whether it’s with the cutting gardens, the great lawns, or the ponds and woodland areas.”

  I would’ve loved to add to what Pinch said, and tell her which were my favorites. I, too, was proud of how my father and grandfathers honored the land and their responsibility to preserve it not only for future generations but also for the monarchy. However, Losha was too angry to listen to me wax nostalgic about my familial heritage. At least, for now, she was speaking to one of us.

  The driver pulled up to the residence where Darrow lived, and before I could ask Pinch to tell my sister we’d see her later, she was to the car.

  Darrow threw her arms around Pinch, who hugged her too.

  “Thank God you’re back,” she said, trying to see into the car. “Who’s that with you?”

  Before she could look, my friend put his arm around her shoulders. “We’ll see them later,” I heard him say before leading her down the path toward the front door of the house.

  She beamed back at him, leaving me feeling both happy for my sister and sad for myself. It was unlikely I’d ever be graced with such a gaze from Losha. For the time being, I just hoped she’d talk to me.

  “My mother, the duchess…” I began, not knowing what to say next.

  It didn’t matter; Losha acted as though I hadn’t uttered a word.

  Kazmir opened his eyes and looked first at me and then at his mother. I expected him to cry or make a fuss about being in the car seat, but he did neither.

  “Hello, baby boy.” Losha ran her finger down Kazmir’s cheek. “I’ll get you out in just a minute when the car stops.”

  The baby studied her and then sat up and looked around, babbling and sucking on the first two fingers of his right hand. It seemed to me that I’d known another baby that had done the same, but I couldn’t place who it was. Perhaps all babies did so and thumb-sucking was simply a cliché.

  “It’s really lovely, Shiver,” she said, startling me.

  “Pinch’s father, Wellie, is our head groundskeeper.”

  She nodded as though that meant something to her.

  “Losha, I’m—”

  When she shook her head and I saw the tentative smile leave her face, I stopped talking. There was no point in pushing anything now. Soon, she’d meet the duchess and that, in itself, was going to be daunting for both Losha and me.

  * * *

  “Thornton?” my mother said from her drawing room. “I didn’t expect—” The duchess looked between me and Losha and then at the baby. “Who is this?”

  “Duchess, I’d like you to meet Orina Kuznetsov and her son, Kazmir.”

  Losha stepped forward. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  My mother’s eyes were wide as she studied the baby in Losha’s arms. I expected her to step closer, say hello like most people did when they saw the beautiful little boy. Instead, she stood where she was.

  “Why are you here?” she asked, still looking at the baby.

  “Mother?”

  The name I called her so seldom seemed to jar her out of the trance she’d slipped into. She embraced me when I walked closer to her, but when I pulled away, her eyes went back to the baby.

  “Shiver,” Losha whispered.

  “Yes.” I walked the short distance that felt so expansive, creating a gulf between my mother and her.

  “I need to change him,” she said, again whispering.

  “Excuse me,” I heard my mother say, and watched as she walked up the stairs. Her behavior was so odd, I didn’t know what to make of it.

  I showed Losha to the downstairs toilet, realizing that it had no convenient space to change the baby’s diaper.

  “Come with me.” I led her back to the main hallway and over to the stairs.

  “No,” she said, pulling away. “I’d rather not go up there.”

  “Why ever not?” I ran my hand through my hair. What on earth was going on between Losha and my mother? I felt as though I was missing something very obvious, but I felt completely in the dark.

  “Is there somewhere else I can stay?” she asked, lips trembling and eyes filling with tears.

  I had to admit my mother’s greeting had been less than welcoming, to the point of being rude.

  “Of course,” I muttered, trying to figure out which of the residences would make the most sense.

  Darrow’s Covington House was the first that came to mind, but interrupting her and Pinch would likely feel as awkward as her introduction to the duchess.

  “Come with me.” I led her back out the front door.

  When I saw the limousine had already been parked in the garage, it occurred to me that I hadn’t yet taken Kazmir’s car seat out of it, nor our bags.

  “Bloody hell,” I muttered, pulling out my cell phone. “Please bring the car back ’round,” I said when the driver answered. “We’ll sort out the car seat and bags later,” I added after I hung up.

  Dorchester House would be the best place for them to stay, but I’d need to discuss that with Wilder first.

  Losha nodded as she swayed from side to side and bounced the baby in her arms.

  “Is he okay?” I asked.

  “Yes. Why?”

  “I’ve never seen you do that with him before.”

  She immediately stopped, as though she hadn’t realized what she was doing.

  “I know this is terribly inconvenient,” I said, opening the back door to the limo when it pulled up, “but as I said, we’ll get everything sorted out later.”

  She nodded. “Of course.”

  When we pulled up in front of Wellie’s cottage and the old man came out the front door, I felt as though I’d finally stumbled back into the universe as I knew it.

  “Who is this wee one?” he asked when I took Kazmir from Losha’s arms so she could get out of the car.

  “This is Losha,” I told him, motioning with my head. “And this is her son, Kazmir. Losha, this is Wellie, surrogate father to all but Pinch, for whom he’s the real thing.”

  “What a sweet little nipper,” Wellie said, getting closer and smiling at the baby, who reached out and put his tiny hand near his face. “Oh, I miss the smell of a baby. There’s nothing like it on earth, is there?”

  Losha laughed. “Right now, he is in desperate need of a diaper change.”

  “Come in, come in,” said Wellie, motioning to his front door. Once inside, he led her down the hallway. “There is a bed where you can change him, and if you need the loo, it’s just across the hall.”

  “Thank you,” Losha said before Wellie closed the bedroom door and came back out to join me.

  “I’ll just let the driver know we won’t be needing him straightaway,” I said, walking back out front. “I’ll transfer Kazmir’s seat to the estate car later. You can head back now,” I said to the man waiting with the limo. “Tell me your name again?”

  “Thomas, and I can do that, sir,” he said. “As you know, I have my own wee ones.”

  “Right. Apologies. And thank you,” I mumbled, going back inside.

  “I feel daft not remembering a thing about Thomas. He had to remind me he has children of his own.”

  “Thomas?” asked Wellie.


  “The driver.”

  “I don’t know him, so I don’t know why you would.”

  I shrugged. Maybe he was part of the security team Pinch and Rivet had set up. However, that didn’t change the fact that as duke, I should know the names of those who worked for me, as well as about their families. It was something my father had always done.

  Wellie reached for one of his unmarked bottles. “I reckon you need this right about now,” he said, pouring me a shot.

  “How did you know?”

  “You look as shell-shocked as the blokes who came back from the Great War,” he said, pouring me a second shot after I’d downed the first.

  “Are you trying to get me pissed?”

  Wellie laughed. “I’ll serve you no more, but two, you needed.” He put the bottle back on the shelf and pulled out a chair. “Have a seat. I’ll check on the bonny lass.”

  I sat, leaned forward, and put my head in my hands.

  Wellie came back to the table. “She’s almost finished.”

  “What the bloody hell?” said Wilder, barging through Wellie’s door. “Have you forgotten you have a brother, you wanker?”

  Other than when Wellie came outside when we first pulled up, I doubted I’d ever felt happier to see someone in recent days. Thank the dear Lord that Wilder’s demeanor was as normal as ever.

  I put my arms around my brother and patted his back. “We saw the duchess,” I said before letting go.

  “Losha?”

  “And the baby.”

  Wilder stepped back and scrubbed his face with his hand. “That explains a lot.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “I saw the duchess come upstairs, but wasn’t fast enough to catch her before she went into her chambers and closed the door. She looked as though she’d seen a ghost—and not a friendly one.”

  “Shh,” cautioned Wellie, motioning toward the hallway.

  Moments later, Losha came out with the baby in her arms.

  “Hello,” she said to Wilder. “You must be Shiver’s brother.”

  “His younger and more handsome brother,” he answered, smiling and stepping forward to shake her hand and tug on the baby’s foot. “Is this Kazmir?”

  She nodded and looked at me.

  “I’ve spoken at great length to my brother about the most beautiful baby who has ever lived,” I said.

  She smiled and her cheeks pinkened. “Isn’t he?”

  “Right so,” said Wellie, coming closer as well.

  It dawned on me that all this commotion and strangers getting so close might frighten Kazmir, but he seemed more curious than scared. When he saw my eyes on him, Kazmir reached out.

  “Do you mind?” I said to Losha, who tentatively handed him over.

  “This is my good friend, Wellie, and that bloke is my brother. His name is Sutton, but we call him Wilder.”

  Kazmir kept his gaze focused on me and then buried his head, peeking at the two men every few seconds.

  “As I remember, it’s about this age they get shy,” said Wellie, taking a step back. “Please,” he said to Losha and pointed to the chair near the fireplace. “Would you like to sit?”

  “I would, thank you.” She kept her eyes on me and Kazmir, but walked over and sat down. Wilder sat in the opposite chair.

  “So you met the duchess?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m afraid she wasn’t very welcoming. I’m sorry about that, Losha.”

  “She wasn’t expecting us, I gather.”

  No, she hadn’t been, and only now did I see the error in the way I’d handled it. I should have forewarned her in some way.

  “It was almost as though she’d seen Kazmir before.”

  “She had,” said Wellie. “His likeness anyway.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  Wellie looked first at Losha, who stood, and then at me. “Don’t you see it?”

  “Get on with it, Wellie,” prodded Wilder. “Don’t we see what?”

  “For goodness’ sake, the wee boy is the spitting image of his father.”

  30

  Losha

  It was as though everyone in the room froze, except Kazmir, who babbled at the man staring at him like he was seeing him for the very first time.

  What must Shiver be thinking? Had he already realized Kazmir was his, but hadn’t wanted to admit it? When he turned and looked at me with a tear in his eye, I knew he hadn’t.

  “I’d hoped,” he whispered, walking toward me as though he and I were the only two people in the room, other than our baby.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Wellie and Wilder walk out the front door of the cottage and close it behind them.

  How I wished I could rewind time and prepare myself better for this moment. I closed my eyes and waited for Shiver’s recrimination. I could feel him come close and cup my cheek with his palm.

  “Losha, please look at me.”

  When I opened my eyes, Kazmir leaned forward and touched my opposite cheek with his tiny hand. It was as though they were soothing my worry together—father and son.

  “You must have questions,” I murmured, looking into Shiver’s eyes.

  Instead of answering, he leaned closer and touched his lips to mine. From there he kissed each cheek, both of my eyelids, my forehead, and then back to my lips.

  “You are so brave,” he whispered.

  I shook my head. “I’m not,” I cried. “I wasn’t brave at all.”

  “You’re so wrong. Just look at him. He’s perfect. You did that. You kept him safe.”

  “I was so afraid. I still am.”

  Shiver drew me close. “I’ll keep you safe, Losha. Let me take over now.”

  “How will you ever forgive me?”

  Shiver wiped the tears from my cheeks.

  “There is nothing to forgive, my beautiful darling.”

  I shook my head and took a step backward. “I kept him from you. I lied to you and told you he was another man’s child. How can you say there’s nothing to forgive?”

  “Come,” he said, pulling me back to the chair near the fireplace. When I sat, he knelt beside me, Kazmir still in his arms. “Look at me, Losha.” He waited until my eyes met his. “The way I see it, you had a good reason not to tell me. In the beginning, there was great danger from United Russia. And then, once the bounty was lifted, you were unsure of whom you could trust.”

  I couldn’t believe he was being as straightforward and levelheaded as he was. I should’ve known he would be. He always had been. But keeping his son from him—I’d expected him to react differently.

  “I only added to your anxiety and fear by relentlessly searching for you. It breaks my heart to think that you and Kazmir had to flee Lapland because Pinch discovered you were living there.”

  “It brought me to you.”

  “Yes, but you shouldn’t have had to feel as though you were on the run from me when you had so many other things worrying you.”

  “Shiver…” I shook my head, unsure of what else to say. He was trying to convince me that he had no reason to be angry.

  He kissed Kazmir’s nose, which made him giggle. “He’s perfect, Losha. Such a happy baby. You did that. How could I ever be angry with you for bringing my child into this world?”

  “Um…it’s kind of chilly outside.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Your brother and Wellie are out there.”

  “For goodness’ sake,” he muttered. “Okay if I let them back in?”

  I smiled; I had been the one to suggest it. “Of course.”

  * * *

  When they came inside, Wilder rubbed his hands together while Wellie made fun of his inability to handle the cold.

  “Where will you stay?” Shiver’s brother asked.

  “I haven’t gotten that far. There’s the flat in London, or I was thinking—”

  “Not a good idea,” said Wilder. “I’ll stay at the flat, and you stay in Dorchester House.”
r />   “I was going to suggest Dorchester House had you let me finish,” Shiver grumbled.

  “Where is that?” I asked.

  “Here on the estate. It’s where Wilder stays when he’s here. I’m not around enough to stay anywhere but the main house. At least I didn’t use to be.”

  “We can’t put you out.”

  Wilder put his arm around my shoulders. “You aren’t putting me out. I prefer to be in town. The new duke will likely evict me anyway.”

  Shiver half laughed. “Appreciate this, Wild.”

  Wellie shook his head and smiled.

  “What?” Shiver asked, and I was so glad he did; I was curious to know what Wellie was thinking.

  “You’ll need to go easy on the duchess, my boy. Her world is a bit different than the one most of us mortals live in. ’Tis not her fault, mind you.”

  He nodded. “I should go talk to her.”

  “Darrow too,” said Wellie.

  “Darrow should go with me, or I should talk to her as well as my mother?”

  “The latter, although your sister’s time to confront the duchess is not far off.”

  “Axel is with her now.”

  Wellie nodded as though he already knew.

  * * *

  I took Kazmir from Shiver’s arms, feeling as though I was intruding on their conversation. “I think he might be hungry. I’ll just go back to the bedroom.”

  Wilder, handsome devil that he was, grinned. Pity the poor girl who loses her heart to Shiver’s younger brother, I thought, taking in the dimples when he smiled that were so like Kazmir’s.

  I sat in a chair in the bedroom and settled my baby. My secret was out, and its reveal had been terribly anti-climactic. Shiver wasn’t angry, or if he was, he was doing a fantastic job of hiding it. His comments were more about giving me the reasons I should forgive myself for keeping his baby from him.

  “Hi,” he said, sticking his head in the bedroom door. “Can I come in?”

  I rested my head against the back of the chair. “Of course.”