The Duke of Deception

by Darcy Burke

  Ned shook his head at the other man but felt no pity. “You’re likely going to forget all about this tomorrow, which is unfortunate since you will probably harass me again. I pray you do not. My patience has its limits.”

  Lindsell straightened his coat. “Are you threatening me?”

  “I believe you’re the one saying you should call me out. Really, Lindsell, you must go home. Shall I ask for a footman to help you, lest you fall again?”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  Immensely. Ned turned toward the house. “I’ll go and get one.”

  Lindsell tried his elbow trick again, but Ned beat him to it, sending the man stumbling over the threshold into the house.

  Before Ned could turn back to the terrace to take a few much-needed deep breaths, Forth-Hodges made eye contact from just inside. His eyes narrowed, and Ned suspected he was about to hear from another disgruntled gentleman.

  Forth-Hodges, who was several inches shorter than Ned, stalked outside, his features carved in irritation. “I see I’m not the only person who’d like to thrash you.”

  Ned couldn’t know how much the man had seen, but acknowledged it had been enough. More than a bit irritated himself after his altercation with Lindsell, he didn’t bother tempering his tone. “I’m sorry to hear that you wish me violence.” He also didn’t bother asking why. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  “Now wait just a minute,” Forth-Hodges said, scowling up at him. “I think you owe me an explanation. Actually, you owe Emmaline an explanation. She was expecting a proposal from you, and you went and married someone else.”

  “I never promised her anything, nor did I even mention the possibility of marriage. If she had an expectation, that is entirely of her own imagination.”

  Forth-Hodges’s eyes widened. “Are you accusing my daughter of spinning tales?” He spat in his vehemence.

  Ned wasn’t handling this very well. He tried to dismiss his ire by shaking out his shoulders. “I am not. I am merely trying to offer the explanation you demanded.”

  “You’re a scoundrel, Sutton. And a liar.” Forth-Hodges settled a blistering glower on Ned. “Yes, the Duke of Deception fits you quite well.”

  “What did you just call me?” Ned’s question snapped out hard and fast, halting Forth-Hodges as he pivoted toward the house.

  “The Duke of Deception. A cunning nickname that’s rather accurate, don’t you agree? You’re nothing but a liar and, from the sound of it, a thief. Good riddance.” His lip curled as he turned and walked back into the house.

  Ned stared at the empty space where Forth-Hodges had insulted him. Repeatedly. But the only thing that mattered was that the man had called him the Duke of Deception. That was a name between Aquilla and her friends. Had one of them shared that nickname?

  Whatever had happened, he was being talked about. He didn’t like to be the subject of gossip. That meant people paid attention to you—more than usual. And there was nothing he hated more than attention. Not when he had so much to hide.

  Stop it, he told himself. Your secret is absolutely safe. He took a deep breath to calm his racing heart. Yes, it was safe. But the guilt was always there, threatening his equilibrium.

  He strode into the house in search of Aquilla. As soon as he found her, he announced that it was time to go home.

  Once they were in the coach, she studied him with concern, her brow furrowed. “What’s the matter? You seem upset.”

  “Lindsell and Forth-Hodges attacked me.”

  She jerked, her eyes widening before blinking rapidly. “Physically?”

  “Lindsell tried. He’d overindulged.” Ned drummed his fingers on the bench beside his leg. “He accused me of stealing you.”

  She took a steadying breath, her face still a mask of worry. “And Forth-Hodges?”

  “He accused me of being a liar.” He spoke in a clipped tone, his ire returning. “Right before he called me the Duke of Deception. Would you care to guess how he came up with that?”

  She lifted her hand to her mouth briefly, shock widening her eyes before regret took over. “I can’t imagine. That’s always been between me and Lucy and Ivy. And Nora.”

  “Apparently, it’s not.” He gazed toward the window, unable to look at the anguish in her eyes.

  “They wouldn’t have said anything. And anyway, it’s nonsense.”

  He snapped his head back in her direction. “I told you when we first met that I didn’t like to be the center of gossip.”

  “And I said that no one does.” She blanched. “I just recalled that Nora mentioned the name at the meeting the other day. Someone must have overheard that.” She edged forward on her bench. “Truly, Ned, you can’t believe we meant for this to happen.”

  “It doesn’t matter, does it? It’s happening.”

  She frowned at him and crossed her arms over her chest. “People talked about you anyway. Your reputation was well-known.”

  “Yes, but I never deceived anyone.” Except he had. And continued to. And always would.

  The coach thankfully came to a stop. Not waiting for the coachman, he threw open the door and leapt down. He assisted Aquilla out and escorted her into the house.

  She started up the stairs, but he didn’t follow her. Partway up, she turned and looked down at him. “Aren’t you coming?”

  “Not right now.” He turned toward the sitting room so he could get to his office. And probably the whiskey decanter. “And don’t wait up.”

  He didn’t want any company—not when he didn’t deserve it.

  Chapter Fourteen

  He’d said not to wait up, but Aquilla had done so anyway. She’d gone to bed in her chamber—something she’d done only on the nights he’d gone to Sutton Park. That he was here in the house and had left her alone all night burned.

  She’d slept intermittently, but now that the sun was up, she could give up the pretense. Mayhap she’d even charge into his room.

  She threw back the covers, leapt out of bed and stopped short before rushing headlong into his room—and potential disaster.

  He’d been angry last night, and she’d never seen him like that. He’d clearly been provoked by Lindsell and Forth-Hodges, and she couldn’t blame him for being upset. But then he’d taken it out on her. She’d seen something in his eyes, a pain that made her heart ache. A pain that made her realize she’d do anything to take it away. Because she loved him.

  She’d tried not to, really she had. Guarding her heart was the only thing she had left. The only piece of independence she could maintain. She’d kept it isolated for so long that it had become a habit, no, a survival instinct. But with care and humor and tenderness, he’d smashed her defenses to hell.

  Now she was angry. But also overjoyed. Her scowl turned to gleeful laughter, and she clapped her hand over her mouth feeling positively absurd.

  Squaring her shoulders, she marched into his bedchamber and stared at the empty bed. It hadn’t even been slept in.

  A chill crept down her spine, and she hugged her shoulders as she retraced her steps and found her robe at the end of the bed. Donning it and a pair of slippers, she made her way downstairs. She passed a footman in the hall on her way to Ned’s office. Which was also empty.

  She went back to the hall and approached the footman. “Do you know where his lordship is?”

  “Yes, my lady. He left for Sutton Park late last night.”

  Of course he had. The part of her that was angry took over. She was tempted to just go there herself. But a small voice in the recesses of her mind told her to be cautious, that there was perhaps a reason he was keeping her from Sutton Park.

  Trudging back upstairs, Aquilla whiled away the time until it was seemly to visit Lady Satterfield. The countess was delighted to see her but could tell immediately that something was wrong.

  She entered the drawing room with a smile, which instantly faded as she took Aquilla’s hand and ushered her to the settee. “Tell me, dear, what is the matter?”


  Aquilla explained what had happened last night while Lady Satterfield listened patiently. She finished by telling her that he’d gone to Sutton Park.

  “Well, that might be best. Sometimes men need to go and cool their heads. You might not believe it, but even Satterfield has had to do that a few times.”

  “Except this is the fourth time he’s been since we were married, and he never invites me. He said he’s making improvements before he takes me there, but I don’t care about that. I want to see his home.” No, it was more than that. “I can’t help feeling he’s keeping something from me.”

  Lady Satterfield’s brow creased. “I see. That’s understandable.”

  “I wonder if he has a mistress.” Aquilla blurted the idea that had taken root earlier that morning and plagued her ever since.

  “I don’t know him as well as you of course, but he doesn’t strike me as that sort. Indeed, when I see the two of you together, I would say you’re a couple in love. Am I wrong?”

  Aquilla’s heart clenched so tight, she feared it might burst. “No.” Her voice was barely audible. “At least not for me. We, uh, haven’t discussed that.”

  Lady Satterfield patted Aquilla’s hand and her gaze turned sympathetic. “Perhaps you should. I hope you’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. There’s such sadness in his background.”

  Aquilla snapped to attention. Was she referring to the loss of his parents? “Because his parents died?”

  “Yes, and that awful fire.”

  Fear iced her spine. She had no idea what the countess was talking about. “What fire?”

  Lady Satterfield looked puzzled. “Sutton Park caught fire a long time ago. At least fifteen years, I’d say. Sutton’s brother died.”

  Aquilla gasped, and her anger fled. She wanted to leave for Sutton Park immediately—not to confront him, but to tell Ned she loved him and ask him why on earth he wouldn’t tell her about that.

  “You didn’t know.” Lady Satterfield looked and sounded surprised. And then worried. “Oh dear, I hope I haven’t said something I shouldn’t.” She waved her hand. “Preposterous. This isn’t a secret. It was common knowledge then.” She shook her head. “Such a tragedy.”

  Aquilla stood. “I need to get to Sutton Park.”

  Lady Satterfield stood with her. “Of course you should.”

  Aquilla winced. “But he took the coach.”

  “Then you’ll take mine. Come, let’s get you on your way.”

  After a quick stop at Sutton House to pack some things, Aquilla was traveling south to Sutton Park. She was overcome with emotions and questions. She only hoped that Ned was ready to answer them.

  Ned hadn’t slept at all. He’d arrived at Sutton Park in the middle of the night—a foolish time to travel, but he hadn’t been thinking clearly. He’d only known he had to get here as soon as possible. He was done lying to his wife. He had to lie to the entire world, but with her, he didn’t want to be the goddamned Duke of Deception.

  He crept along the corridor to the east wing and George’s apartments. The footman on duty sat outside Ned’s door, reading a book. He stood as Ned approached. “Good morning, my lord.”

  “Is George awake yet?”

  “I’m not certain, my lord. I haven’t heard anything.”

  George typically rang a bell when he was up, but sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes he woke and frittered around his rooms for an age. Since Dr. Paget’s arrival, however, someone entered his chamber by ten o’clock, regardless of whether they heard a bell or activity. The doctor believed routine was helpful to George’s state of mind. It was one of the reasons the introduction of Ned’s wife was so critical—it would change the routine and George’s expectations in many ways.

  It wasn’t yet ten, but Ned couldn’t wait any longer. He planned to tell George about Aquilla over his favorite breakfast of kippers and eggs.

  “Thank you,” Ned said. “I’m having breakfast sent up. It should be here in a moment.” The footman started to rise, but Ned waved him back down before letting himself into the sitting room.

  The door to the bedchamber was open, and Ned only made it halfway across the room before George poked his head out.

  “Ned! You’re here!” He bounded from the bedchamber and ran straight to Ned, practically knocking him down with the force of his hug.

  Ned smiled and patted his brother on the back. “Good morning. Are you hungry?”

  “Are you eating breakfast with me?”

  “Of course.”

  George grinned, and his happiness eased Ned’s anxiety.

  “It’s kippers and eggs,” Ned said, going to the table where George ate his meals.

  A footman entered, bearing a tray, followed by the footman who’d been outside the door. They set up the breakfast for them, and one asked, “Will there be anything else, my lord?”

  Ned shook his head. “Since I’m here, please go downstairs and break your own fast.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  They both bowed and departed, leaving Ned alone with George, who was already seated and eagerly digging into his kippers.

  Ned sat and took a few bites as he tried to think of how to broach the subject of his wife. At length he said, “Dr. Paget has been talking to you about families, hasn’t he?”

  George, occupied with his breakfast, nodded.

  “Do you remember Mother and Father at all?” Ned asked.

  George didn’t look up from his plate.

  Ned couldn’t tell if that meant he didn’t, but had to assume so. In all the years since he’d returned from Bethlehem, he’d never once spoken of either of them. Just Cook and lemon cakes and their dogs. They’d had two hounds, one for each of them, and Falstaff had been George’s.

  Ned tried another tack. “Do you remember Falstaff?”

  George looked up, his brow tight with strain as he thought. “Falstaff… That was my dog?” His gaze turned wistful. “I miss that dog.”

  “I wondered if you might like to have another one. To keep you company.” Ned wished he’d thought of this before.

  George’s eyes lit. “Like Falstaff?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh yes, Ned!”

  “Excellent, I will see what I can find. It will be nice to add to our family, won’t it?”

  George’s gaze dimmed a bit. “You sound like Dr. Paget. He said that our family would inevitably grow larger, that you would take a wife.” He made a face. “I told him you wouldn’t. I don’t need a wife, after all.”

  Ned kept his tone measured. “I might like one, however.” He forced himself to just say it. He’d weather the impact, whatever it was. “In fact, I have already married.”

  George stared at him, then went back to eating his eggs.

  Ned waited, his body tense, his mind alert. But nothing came. George simply finished his breakfast. Then he stood.

  “Why would you want a wife?” he said at last. “You have me. You don’t need a wife. She’ll understand when you tell her you’ve changed your mind.” He nodded, looking as if that was all that needed to be said on the matter.

  Ned slowly rose, unsure of what to expect. George didn’t seem agitated, but then he also didn’t understand that this wasn’t something Ned could change, even if he wanted to. Which he absolutely didn’t. “I can’t do that, George. We are married. Her name is Aquilla. I think you will like her very much.”

  George’s eyes turned frigid, like the pond when it was iced over in winter. “No. I will hate her.” He swiped his hand across the table in a sudden fit of rage, sending the plates crashing to the floor. “And I shall hate you too,” he spat, his gaze no longer cold but now full of fire and hostility.

  Ned took a step back. In his limited experience—George had rarely looked this angry—Ned had given him space. At the worst, he’d broken a chair and shredded some of his clothing. No, at the worst, he’d set the house on fire. But he couldn’t do that. He didn’t have the implements, unless he’d somehow secreted them
away somewhere.

  But that wasn’t possible. They made sure he was supervised. Except he’d gotten out of the house just recently, and they still didn’t know how. All they could think was that the footman had fallen so deeply asleep on his watch that George had been able to slip past him unnoticed.

  “You don’t hate me,” Ned said, speaking as evenly as possible though his pulse was thundering.

  “I do! You leave me here alone all the time, and now you’ll probably never come back!” He stormed into his bedchamber and slammed the door.

  A maid stepped into the sitting room just then, her eyes wide and her mouth gaping for just a moment as she took in the mess. “I’ll be back in a trice to clean this up, my lord.”

  Ned didn’t respond. He was too focused on George. Cautiously, he made his way to the door and stopped to listen. He heard mumbling and then silence. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, straining to hear even the slightest sound. It had to be several minutes.

  At length, Ned turned from the door and paced, trying to think of what to do next.

  “My lord, I heard there was a commotion.” Dr. Paget hurried into the sitting room, his features creased with worry. He looked from the broken dishes on the floor to the closed door to George’s bedchamber. “What happened?”

  “I told him I was married.”

  Dr. Paget sucked in a breath, and he winced. “It didn’t go well.”

  “Clearly. I offered him a dog.” Ned still thought it was a good idea but realized it hadn’t done anything to mitigate George’s reaction to Aquilla.

  Dr. Paget considered that for a moment. “That’s actually a brilliant thought. I’d like to discuss that further. First, let me see if I can talk to him.” He moved to the door, and Ned noticed he carried a steaming mug of something.

  “Did you make him a posset?” Ned asked.

  “Yes. As soon as I heard what happened.”

  The maid must have alerted everyone, which was the proper course. Everyone on staff was aware of George’s fits and was ready to help however possible. Ned had gone to great pains to hire retainers who were discreet, thoughtful, and, above all, loyal.