by Shana Galen
“Payne!” the countess called. A moment later, the butler stepped out of the shadows behind Rosalyn, making her jump. “Please bring us tea. This young lady must be cold and wet. Miss—?”
“Dashner,” Rosalyn said.
“Miss Dashner, do come sit by the fire with me.”
With Payne blocking her only escape, Rosalyn did not see how she had much choice. She entered and sat in a chair not far from the one the countess had occupied when sewing. The countess sat as well, and Rosalyn fidgeted, unsure what she was to do next. “I am sorry for your loss,” she said to break the silence.
The countess raised her brows. “I’m not! The man was mad, had been mad for twenty years. His death was a blessing, I will tell you that. He used to run about here babbling nonsense. Half the time, he was dressed in rags or wore nothing at all. We couldn’t keep any staff and spent a fortune on doctors. Nothing helped.”
Rosalyn could understand that feeling.
“The last doctor wanted to take him away, put him in some sort of institution.” The countess shook her head. “I wouldn’t allow that. He died at home, in his own bed, among people he knew.”
“That is a blessing,” Rosalyn murmured.
“Yes.” The lady’s eyes sharpened. They were a pale blue, rimmed with gray. “But you didn’t come to hear about my late husband’s last days. You are here on behalf of the heir, that awful, awful boy.”
Rosalyn blinked in surprise. “No. Actually, I don’t know anything about any heir. I’m here for a book.”
“A book?”
“Yes, a manuscript, actually. It means a great deal to a friend of mine. He’s willing to pay for it. He’s a collector of sorts, you see.”
“I see.” She rose. “Come with me, Miss Dashner.”
Rosalyn’s belly clenched. “It doesn’t matter anymore. If you just let me go—”
“You’ll want to see the library,” the countess said. “Come with me.”
Rosalyn saw no option other than to follow the countess out of the room and down a stairway. The lady descended, then paused, indicating Rosalyn should precede her when they reached the next floor. Rosalyn’s heart thudded in her chest. She was so close now. Could the countess really possess The Duke’s Book? In a matter of seconds she could acquire it and give it to the duke. Then he would pay her the remainder of the fee. Her family would be safe for a little while. And the duke would have what he wanted. She knew how much this manuscript meant to him.
Rosalyn veered in the direction the countess indicated and paused before a closed door. The lady extracted a long key from a chain at her waist and unlocked the door. Then she lifted the burning sconce at the door and shone it into the room. Rosalyn gasped just before she heard the shout.
“ROSALYN!” DOMINICK called. “Are you here? Rosalyn!” Dominick ran up the stairs, his voice echoing off the stark walls. Suddenly, he heard what sounded like a woman’s voice. He paused, listening.
“I’m here. In the library.”
The library? Dominick took several more steps, pausing at a landing where light flickered from the open door of a chamber. He moved toward it, pushed the door open, and there stood Rosalyn and another woman, an older, handsome woman.
Behind them was a large library filled with dozens of gleaming shelves, all empty. Not a single book or piece of furniture inhabited the room. It was completely empty, shining from recent polish and echoing hollowly at the sound of his footsteps.
Dominick ignored the room and strode to Rosalyn.
“May I present—”
He took her into his arms, pulling her tightly against him. She was wet and shivering, but she was whole and she was alive. He held her close, his eyes closed as he rested his chin on the top of her head. “You’re alive,” he murmured. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“I’m alive,” she murmured. “But the earl isn’t so fortunate.”
He pulled away from her, looking down at her face. She looked so pale and cold. “Tell me you didn’t climb the walls to gain entrance. Tell me you knocked on the door like a sane person.”
Her dark brows drew together. “You really have no faith in my abilities, do you? Of course I climbed the walls.”
He wanted to laugh and to shake her all at the same time. “Of course you did. Never again, do you hear me? I don’t want to lose you.”
“But I did it for you. I know how much the book means to you—”
“Nothing,” he said. “Nothing compared to your life.”
“Should I leave you two alone?” asked the woman.
Dominick stepped back, and Rosalyn made the introductions. “Lady Verney, this is the Duke of Tremayne. Duke, the Countess of Verney.”
“I am terribly sorry to inconvenience you like this,” Dominick said. His gaze drifted back over the library. The very empty library.
“I suppose there is nothing for it now,” the countess said. “I am found out, but you will at least allow me to explain before you contact the proper authorities.”
“There’s really no need,” Dominick said, thinking of the letter from Mrs. Dashner.
“Please,” the countess said. How could Dominick refuse?
They were led to a drawing room and served tea and biscuits. With the rumble of thunder in the distance and the flash of lightning at the windows, the widow began her tale.
“I married very young,” she said. “Younger even than you.” She nodded to Rosalyn. “The earl was quite sane then, and we were fortunate to have many happy years. But there was sadness as well. We had no children, and we always knew The Temples would go to a virtual stranger, especially as time passed and nephews and brothers passed away, some of them meeting sad ends. When the earl’s real descent into madness began, I had the lawyers discover the identity of the next heir. It took almost two years to unravel the lineage and follow each branch to its conclusion. Finally, they located a cousin, a third or fourth cousin to my husband. I summoned him here, and one meeting told me all I needed to know.”
“What was that?” Dominick asked, drawn into the story despite his impatience to be gone.
“The man was worthless. He’d spent his life and his fortune on women and gambling. He had the gall to ask me for money when he came, and when he looked at The Temples, all he saw was what he could sell to finance his liaisons. I told him no and sent him back to London. I would have prayed for the earl to live forever if it would mean that awful man never inherited.”
“But he didn’t live forever,” Rosalyn said.
“No.” The countess was steely-eyed again. “He died a year ago.”
Dominick could not quite stop the quick intake of breath.
The countess closed her eyes in shame. “It is shocking, I know. We told no one, Mrs. Wright, Payne, and I. We buried him ourselves and told visitors he was not well.”
“But you must have known you could not keep his death a secret forever,” Rosalyn said. Dominick was glad she’d spoken, her voice soft and full of understanding. He was rather less understanding. As a duke from a long, prestigious line, he considered the countess’s actions a shocking betrayal of her rank and station.
“I knew, but I needed time. Time to put The Temples’s finances in order, time to make sure that it would stand, no matter what that awful man tried to do to it. And I confess, I took that time to sell some pieces I should not have, pieces that by all rights should go to the next earl. But I couldn’t allow paintings I loved or the books the earl had collected to fall into that man’s hands. I couldn’t!”
Now Dominick did understand. He too felt a kinship with his books. He would not want them sold off or ignored should anything happen to him. “What did you do with them?”
“I sold them to a W. Stanley & Co. I researched dealers, and he has a very good reputation. I know he will see they are well taken care of.”
Dominick knew the man, and he could not fault her choice.
“But my actions were not wholly unselfish,” the countess said. “Because of the
sad state of our finances, I was left with very little when the earl died. I have a niece I can live with, but she is not wealthy. I would hate to be a burden to her, and I will admit I took some of the money and put it away for myself.”
Dominick felt Rosalyn’s gaze on him, and he knew she saw her own mother in this woman. Here was another widow who would be thrown out, through no fault of her own, and all but left to her own devices. Well, Dominick had no desire to bring any further misfortune on the countess. “My lady,” he said, “I cannot say I agree with your actions, but neither do I have any desire to reveal them. I believe I speak for Miss Dashner and myself when I say that your secret is safe with us.”
She stared at them for a long moment. “Bless you. You will not have to keep it long. That I promise you.”
Dominick held up a hand. “I want no details, my lady. As far as I am concerned, we never gained entrance to The Temples.” He rose. “And to that end, I think we had better take our leave.”
The countess rang the bell. “I’ll have Payne see you out.”
Dominick bowed and took Rosalyn’s arm. As he left the drawing room, he felt his dream of acquiring The Duke’s Book slip away. He could find W. Stanley. He could instigate a search for the manuscript there, but the thought gave him no pleasure.
He no longer had any appetite for The Duke’s Book. It was as though The Duke’s Book had been a child’s sweet, and Dominick’s palate had matured. He couldn’t understand why it had ever meant so much to him.
“His lordship loved the library,” Payne said as he escorted them through the foyer. “He spent hours inside.”
“I can see it would have been impressive,” Dominick said. “I think the earl would be pleased that his books are now in good hands.” He could feel Rosalyn staring at him in shock, but he’d explain later. Now he wanted her safe and at his side.
Chapter Eight
WHEN THEY’D RETURNED to the inn and she’d changed into dry clothing and been warmed with brandied tea and a blazing fire, the duke knocked on her door. Alice answered, and Tremayne indicated the maid should stay. Rosalyn began to rise, but he waved her down. “I know you want to talk about what you saw at The Temples and what we should do about it, but we don’t have time for that right now.”
A cold shard of worry pierced the warm calm she’d settled into. “What do you mean?”
He held out two letters, and she recognized her mother’s handwriting on the first immediately. She ripped it from his hand and began to read, even as he explained. “We leave for London tonight, as soon as you’re able. We’ll travel straight through, only stopping to change horses. If we’re fortunate and make good time, we can be there in two days.”
“Michael,” she murmured. Then, “Yes. I need to go. Now.” She tried to rise, but the duke put a restraining hand on her shoulder.
“Alice, pack Miss Dashner’s things and your own. We are leaving as soon as you are ready.”
Rosalyn nodded, relieved Alice was there. Her thoughts were in turmoil. She could think of nothing but Michael.
“There’s something else,” the duke said. “The doctor Michael has been seeing is a fraud.” He handed her the other letter. “If you’ll allow me, I’ll send my man to you. He’s excellent.”
She shook her head. “I doubt we could afford—”
The duke held up a hand. “You needn’t worry about payment. I’ll take care of it.”
It was a refrain she heard often in the next hours. Once underway, she thought to ask what they should do about the dead earl. The duke told her he would take care of it. Indeed, he took care of everything, for which she was grateful. She could do little but fret about her brother. She’d never felt so helpless. The last leg of the journey was particularly trying, as she knew they were close, but she feared she wouldn’t arrive in time. And then she was home, falling into her mother’s arms.
“Michael?” she asked as her mother hugged her tightly.
“He’s fighting, darling,” her mother whispered. “We haven’t given up hope yet.”
The duke’s doctor was there, and Rosalyn was disturbed to see that he’d thrown away all of Michael’s tonics and potions and eschewed bloodletting. He ordered the boy fed nourishing broth and given fresh air and sunshine.
“You want us to take him from his bed?” Mrs. Dashner asked.
The doctor, an older man, with a thick head of white hair, nodded vigorously. “These small rooms fill with coal smoke, which is why his condition worsened when he came to Town. The boy needs fresh air and food. The countryside would be perfect. In the meantime, the steam from a bowl of hot water and mint leaves will help open his lungs.”
Rosalyn and her mother exchanged looks. They would not be able to take Michael to the countryside, but Rosalyn had long believed that the meager diet Doctor Banting had prescribed made Michael weaker, not stronger.
In the next few days, Rosalyn had little time to think of anything but nursing her brother. Stephen and Daniel carried him outside and walked him around, while Rosalyn and her mother heated water and made broth. After a few days, the duke’s doctor returned and pronounced the boy looking better already.
Rosalyn agreed. Michael was sitting up and able to stay awake longer. His breathing was still labored at times, but his cheeks had regained some color.
A knock sounded on the door, and when Stephen opened it, the duke was there. He bowed and greeted everyone, his eyes never leaving Rosalyn. She felt herself blush and had to look at the floor so no one would notice.
“Ah, Your Grace,” the doctor said. “I was just telling the family that Master Michael seems somewhat improved, but the real improvement will only come if they take him out of the city for a time. He needs fresh air.”
“And we do appreciate all you have done for us, Doctor Cavender,” Mrs. Dashner said, “but I’m afraid we don’t have the means to leave London at present.”
“I’ll take care of it,” the duke said.
Rosalyn’s head snapped up at the same time her mother said, “Pardon me?”
“I’ll take care of it. My Hampshire estate is the closest. I can send a coach and attendants first thing in the morning.”
“But we couldn’t possibly impose on you to do such a thing!” Mrs. Dashner argued.
“It is no imposition at all,” the duke said. “In fact, I insist.” He bowed again, and after the doctor took his leave, the two men departed. Rosalyn waited all of fifteen seconds, then raced after them.
“I’ll be back in a moment, Mama!”
The doctor had climbed into his gig, and the duke was striding toward his own conveyance when Rosalyn reached the street. “Your Grace! Wait!”
He turned toward her, then motioned to the footman to close the door. He approached so they stood under the awning of the printing shop below her flat. “How can I possibly thank you for your kindness, Your Grace?” she asked. “It’s too much.”
“It’s not nearly enough,” he said. “I should have offered sooner. I should have sent Cavender to your family sooner. Rosalyn.” He cleared his throat. “Miss Dashner, I know speaking now, with your brother so ill, might be impertinent, but once he is well again, might I have the pleasure of calling on you?”
She frowned. “You’re calling on me now, Your Grace.” He was acting so strangely.
He shifted. “Then might I have the privilege of courting you?”
Rosalyn’s jaw dropped. “Courting?” she said, before her throat closed in.
“You needn’t answer now. And your answer has no bearing on my earlier offer. Your family is welcome at my Hampshire estate regardless, but if you do not wish it, I will not trouble you there with my presence.”
It had taken her a moment—several moments, in fact—to understand him. She supposed it had been too long since she had been in such genteel company, and she’d forgotten some of her social graces. But she understood now. The duke wanted her. The duke... Was it possible he admired her as much as she did him?
“Ar
e you saying you want to court me?” she asked.
“I want to marry you.”
Her jaw dropped.
“I apologize if my frankness offends you.” He stepped back.
“But you are a duke!” she spluttered.
“And you are the daughter of a gentleman.”
“Yes.” Rosalyn smiled. “I am.” She closed the distance between them.
Seeming bolstered by her smile, he took a breath. “I thought perhaps you might need some time to know me better, to come to care for me, before we discuss marriage.”
“I’d like that. But what about the manuscript? Don’t you need to make inquiries?”
He waved a hand. “That’s all settled. It is not worth my time if you are amenable to my presence in Hampshire.”
Her breath caught at the thought of seeing him in Hampshire, walking with him, talking with him, teasing him...
“I am amenable, Your Grace. Would it be forward of me to say I am eager?”
“I like it when you are forward,” he murmured.
“Then might I add that, far from finding your affection offensive, I welcome it and return it, Your Grace.”
“Dominick,” he said.
She smiled. “Dominick. I have only hoped you might feel the same.”
He smiled back, a true smile that lit his entire face. Lord, but he was impossibly handsome when he was happy. “Then I will call on you when you and your family have settled in at Hampshire.” He took her hand and kissed her knuckles.
“I’d like that, but I have one request before you take your leave.”
He arched a brow.
“I want more than a kiss on my hand, Dominick. You will think me wicked, but I haven’t forgotten the kiss we shared at the inn.”
“Nor have I.”
“Will you kiss me now?”
He looked about. “Here? On the street?”
“Exactly.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
He took her into his arms and kissed her, and though it was brief, it was every bit as perfect as that first kiss. When they parted and he looked into her eyes, Rosalyn knew they would share many, many kisses in the years to come.
