The Duke of Deception

by Darcy Burke

  Dr. Paget rapped softly on the door to George’s bedroom. “George?”

  Silence.

  He tried knocking again, this time a bit harder. “George? It’s Dr. Paget. May I come in?”

  This time there was a grunt.

  The doctor exchanged a concerned look with Ned and then tried the door handle. “I’m going to come in.”

  Surprisingly, it wasn’t locked, but then they had a key if it had been.

  Dr. Paget went inside, moving slowly and carefully. Ned trailed him, feeling tense and uncertain.

  Seated on his bed, propped against the pillows, George threw Ned a glare. He gave Dr. Paget a much more harmonious greeting, even allowing a half smile. “I see you brought me a posset.”

  Dr. Paget walked toward the bed. “Yes. To help you relax. I heard you were upset.”

  George jabbed a finger in Ned’s direction. “At him! He’s a traitor. But I suspect you knew that.” His gaze settled into a mutinous glower as he folded his arms across his chest.

  “Ned told me you are to get a dog. Do you think you’d prefer a puppy?”

  The anger in George’s eyes faded and was momentarily replaced with excitement. But he recovered quickly, summoning a deep frown as he uncrossed his arms and held out his hand. “Just give me the posset so I can go back to sleep and try to forget my traitorous brother.”

  Dr. Paget gave the mug to George and then slid Ned a worried look.

  George sipped the drink and settled deeper into the bed. “You don’t have to stay and watch me. I’ll be a good boy. In fact, I’d rather you left me alone.” He sounded sad and defeated, and Ned’s heart broke. He’d been through so much, and Ned hated causing him pain.

  They didn’t move, and George’s eyes narrowed. “Go! Else I’ll throw this at your head!” He directed the last at Ned.

  His heart heavy, Ned turned and left the room. Dr. Paget came after, closing the door behind him.

  Dr. Paget moved to the opposite side of the room and gestured for Ned to follow. He spoke in a low tone. “I’m concerned that affected him more than normal. He’s calling you his brother again.”

  Ned went to great pains to say George was a cousin, but that he sometimes referred to Ned as his brother. This was accepted by everyone in the household, and only the butler and his aunt knew the truth.

  Ned supposed he should’ve told the doctor before now, but revealing their true relationship was always a risk. He probably ought to trust the doctor given his mostly successful treatment thus far. George did have fewer outbursts, and when he did, Dr. Paget was skilled in calming him.

  Typically with a posset. Or soup.

  Furthermore, George had taken it with the expectation that he would sleep.

  Ned stared at the doctor as an uneasy feeling made its way up his spine. “What is in that concoction you give him?”

  Dr. Paget wasn’t able to hide his guilt, or maybe he just didn’t want to. “I admit it contains laudanum, my lord.”

  Anger sparked through Ned as quickly as it had done George, but he wouldn’t break anything. “I told you when I hired you that I didn’t want you relying on laudanum.”

  Color rose in Dr. Paget’s face. “I did try, my lord, and I use it somewhat sparingly.”

  “Do you?” Ned had no idea since he wasn’t here most of the time.

  “Yes, and it is effective.” Dr. Paget squared his shoulders and looked Ned in the eye. “I can’t stop you from dismissing me, but I think I’ve been helpful. The routine has had a marvelous effect, and I think the addition of a dog will be especially beneficial.”

  Ned wasn’t convinced. He didn’t like that the man had lied to him. The hypocrisy of that made him wince. “I can find someone else to give him routine and to help him take care of the dog.”

  “You can,” Paget said evenly, “but we have a good relationship.” His features softened. “I’ve come to like George a great deal. And I think he likes me. If I stay, I promise to consult you on everything. I should also like to help facilitate the introduction of Lady Sutton. Keeping me here amidst that change will ensure that George has some stability.” He spoke with hope but also persuasive vigor.

  Ned felt suddenly weary. His whole life had been about caring for George, and it seemed he wasn’t very good at it. Just as he’d been lousy at caring for his wife. Why, when they were the two people he loved most in the world?

  Realizing he loved Aquilla squeezed the melancholy out as joy bloomed in his heart. He missed her. He never should’ve left her in London. Not so soon after their wedding and not last night.

  “I’ll consider keeping you on,” Ned said. “Please excuse me.”

  He left the sitting room and made sure a footman was on guard. The maid passed him with cleaning implements and nodded in his direction.

  Ned informed the butler that he wished to return to London within the hour. He wished he wasn’t leaving George when he’d been so distraught, but Aunt Susannah was right. It was time for Ned to embrace his own happiness.

  Not that accepting that didn’t add to the guilt that already chipped at his soul.

  After making the necessary preparations, he went back upstairs to peek in at his brother. He passed the footman and went to the sitting room, where everything had been put back to rights. Dr. Paget was nowhere to be found.

  Walking lightly so as not to disturb George, Ned opened the door to the bedchamber and crept into the dim room. He tried to make out George’s form in the bed but couldn’t. As he moved farther inside, the truth of the matter leapt out at him: George wasn’t there.

  Ned scanned the bed, but it was completely empty. He knelt and looked under the bed—a favorite hiding space of theirs when they’d been boys. Nothing.

  Apprehension turned to fear as he searched the room. George was gone. Ned went into the small dressing chamber. It was also empty.

  Taking long strides, he crossed back to the sitting room and made his way outside to where the footman sat. It was the same one—Wilkes—who’d been here when Ned had left earlier.

  “Have you been here the entire time? Since I left, I mean.” Ned was already thinking ahead to organizing a search party.

  Wilkes stood, concerned, as he comprehended Ned’s state of alarm. “Yes, my lord. What’s happened?”

  “George is gone.”

  “That’s impossible, my lord. I haven’t moved. I swear it.”

  How in the hell was he getting out, then? Ned spun about and stalked back into the bedchamber. Wilkes followed.

  Ned began to eye the room in a new light—there had to be another way out. He turned to the footman. “Please fetch some help. We need to find out how he’s escaping.”

  With a quick nod, Wilkes dashed off.

  Ned started searching the walls, looking for some sort of hidden passage. He knew there was one, but it was in the other wing. In his father’s dressing room. He and George had found it when they were young.

  Rushing to the dressing chamber, Ned tried to recall how they’d discovered it and where it was located. They’d been playing with Father’s cravats, tying them together to make a rope they could use to swing from the tree into the pond. Thinking through the memory, he recalled that there had been a draft. When they’d explored the source, they’d found a catch at the top of the wainscoting that opened a small door into a narrow passageway. They’d had no idea where it went because they’d been discovered by their father at precisely that moment. Future attempts to explore the hidden doorway were consistently and effectively thwarted, and they’d eventually given up.

  Ned knelt down and tried to feel for a draft. He circuited the room on his knees, which was awkward and slow and really quite arduous. When he reached the wardrobe, he slid his hand between it and the wall. Cold air swept over his hand.

  He heard someone enter the dressing chamber.

  “My lord,” Dr. Paget said, his voice higher than normal, “I understand George is missing.”

  Ned stood and moved to one side of
the wardrobe. “Help me pull this away from the wall.”

  Paget looked at him as if he were the one suffering from lunacy but quickly moved to the other side. They relocated the piece a few feet from its original position, and Ned stepped around it, then stopped short. Most of the back of the wardrobe was missing.

  Though he was upset, Ned couldn’t help but marvel at George’s ingenuity. “He didn’t even have to move it.”

  Paget joined him and gasped at the opening in the piece of furniture.

  Ned knelt down and felt the top of the wainscoting for the catch. Something clicked, and the wall moved inward, just as it had in his father’s dressing chamber all those years ago. His stomach plummeting into his knees, Ned turned his head and looked up at the doctor. “I don’t think George drank your posset. Perhaps you should go look.”

  The doctor practically ran from the dressing chamber and came back nearly as quickly, shaking his head. “I’ve been utterly foolish.”

  “We all have.” Ned frowned at the dark tunnel stretching before him. How many secret passageways did this house contain? He’d have to locate and seal them all. But first, he had to find George. “Fetch some lanterns so we can see where this leads.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The day had been overcast, but now as they neared the village of Sutton, a gentle rain began to patter on the roof of the coach. Aquilla had the curtains open on the windows and looked outside at the passing countryside, which had become a bit muted with the onset of the rain.

  They hit a bump, and the book on her lap, which she’d totally forgotten she’d opened, bounced to the floor. She leaned over to pick it up, wondering why she’d even bothered bringing it when her mind was so occupied, and promptly fell into a heap of skirts when the coach came to a swift and rough stop.

  Pulling herself back up to the bench, she brushed her gown off. She heard voices outside and recognized the coachman speaking. The other voice was too distant to make out, but she definitely heard a feminine shriek.

  She opened the door, and the footman at the back of the coach jumped down to help her.

  He came to the open door, the rain making him blink. “My lady, there’s someone in the lane. We’ll be on our way in just a moment.”

  Judging from the sound of the shriek Aquilla had to assume it was a woman. “Is she alone?”

  “It appears so, my lady.”

  Aquilla leaned out and craned her neck. She caught sight of the woman, who wore a wide-brimmed hat with a veil covering her face, talking to the coachman, who was gesturing for her to move.

  “What on earth can she be doing out here in this weather? We must offer her a ride.”

  The footman frowned. “I’m not at all certain—”

  Aquilla pursed her lips at him. “Perhaps not, but I am. Please invite her inside at once.”

  A moment later, the footman had pulled down the step and helped the woman into the coach. She wore a dark, woolen gown with a rather bedraggled, and now muddy, hem.

  She sat in the rear-facing seat with a generous thump. “Oh my goodness! I’m so glad you came along when you did.” She carried a small bag, which she set on the floor in front of her feet.

  Aquilla glanced out at the footman, who was standing next to the open door. “Give us a moment, and I’ll determine our destination.” She pulled the door shut to keep out the rain. “Yes, I’m glad we did too. Where are you going? I’m happy to deliver you to your destination. I’m Lady Sutton.”

  The woman, who’d been shaking the water from her skirts, snapped her head up. “You’re the new countess?” Though Aquilla couldn’t see her face, the woman’s tone was one of clear surprise.

  They’d heard of her, then? Of course they would have. Did she think Ned had kept her a secret? She couldn’t really say, since he was keeping her completely separate from whatever he was doing at Sutton Park. It was as if he were leading two different lives.

  “Yes,” Aquilla said. “Are you from the village?”

  “Oh yes, yes.” She fidgeted with her skirts again before leaning forward slightly. “May I offer my condolences?”

  A chill shot up Aquilla’s spine. “Why?”

  The woman settled back against the squab and folded her hands in her lap. “The earl has a nasty reputation, but then you will have heard about that.”

  Aquilla relaxed. “Yes, but he’s really not to blame. He made no promises to any of those young ladies.”

  “The devil you say!” The woman’s voice rose to an almost shrill tone. “He’s a filthy debaucher. Of course he makes no promises. He takes what he wants and doesn’t give a damn about any consequences. He tried to woo me once.” She sniffed. “But I’m far too smart for the likes of him.”

  Aquilla couldn’t believe it. The man she knew—the man she loved and who made her laugh and who treated her with such tender care and aroused her to such dizzying heights—couldn’t be whom this woman described.

  Aquilla forced herself to ask, “This is his reputation in Sutton?”

  The woman nodded, her hat tipping precariously on her head so that she tightened the bow beneath her chin, which was completely masked by the veil. “For years. I can’t believe you haven’t heard of it.”

  “I have not,” Aquilla murmured. “I admit I’m having difficulty believing it. My husband hasn’t been known to…dally in London.”

  “Is that where you’re from?” the woman asked primly. “Sutton has said that he behaves himself in London—I heard that from his valet, Connor, when he was in the village one day. Sutton’s careful to keep his women private—though we all know the truth around here.”

  Could that be true? Could he really be that skilled at deception? She nearly laughed at the nickname she’d given him, but nothing about this was humorous.

  “I do hope it’s not too late for you to obtain an annulment,” the woman continued. “You were just married, were you not?”

  Aquilla felt sick. She was certain it was too late. Given their…activities, she could already be with child. “I’m afraid I’m stuck,” she whispered.

  “That’s a pity.” The woman fell silent a moment. Aquilla’s mind was reeling, and her heart ached. She jumped when the woman continued. “You could run away! I highly recommend that.” She leaned forward again and spoke in a low tone, as if imparting a secret. “He’s also a brute. I’ve heard stories that would make you flee screaming in the opposite direction.”

  The feeling of queasiness intensified, and Aquilla covered her mouth. She couldn’t believe she’d been so wrong about him. Part of her wanted to deny it. It just couldn’t be.

  “This is so unlike the man I know,” Aquilla said, desperate to make sense of what this woman was saying.

  “Oh, he’s quite the fraudsman. I should know,” she scoffed. “After I refused him, he seduced my sister and got her with child, then abandoned her. My nephew is the spitting image of the earl—right down to his dark blond hair and gray eyes, as well as the way he carries himself. Even at four years old, he exudes a confidence and a grace that could only come from nobility.” She spat the last word as if it were an epithet.

  Aquilla couldn’t breathe. Her mother’s oft-repeated warning sounded in her head, and she truly thought she might be sick.

  “Please understand that I’m telling you all of this for your own good,” the veiled woman said. “I realize it’s too late since you’re married to the scoundrel, but you can at least protect yourself and perhaps remain in London, away from his…proclivities. I can only pray my nephew doesn’t grow up to be like him, although he’s already demonstrated keen athleticism—just like his father. He also loathes turtle soup.”

  That all certainly sounded like the Ned she knew, right down to the turtle soup. But how well did she really know him? She hadn’t even known he’d had a brother, let alone that he’d died.

  Now his frequent trips to Sutton Park made sense. Perhaps he did have a mistress there.

  “Does he have a mistress?” she asked, fe
aring the answer.

  “Several.”

  Aquilla slumped back against the squab as a knock sounded on the door.

  “My lady?” the footman said.

  She opened the door but didn’t trust herself enough to speak. She hated this feeling—this weakness. She blew out her pent-up breath and decided to be angry instead of wounded. She was not her mother. If Ned thought he could treat women like this, he was grievously mistaken.

  “Should we continue to Sutton Park, my lady?” the footman asked.

  “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting,” Aquilla said. She looked over at the woman. “Where can we take you?”

  “Actually, I was on my way to London to take care of an important matter. You happened upon me at a most opportune time, else I’d be trudging in the rain.”

  Something about this woman bothered Aquilla, but that could be due to the information she’d just imparted. “You were walking there?” Aquilla asked.

  “Not all of us are married to earls.” The woman’s tone dripped with sarcasm. “I knew some kind soul would offer me a ride. I don’t suppose you’re going there?”

  She’d been about to say that she’d just come from London, but she bit back her response. She didn’t particularly want to see Ned after all. She forced a smile. “I’d be happy to take you.”

  Aquilla leaned toward the door and looked at the footman. “Take us back to London, please.” She glanced toward the woman. “Where in London?”

  “Oh, I don’t want to trouble you. Wherever you’re going is fine. I appreciate it so much.”

  Aquilla instructed the footman to take them to Satterfield House. She didn’t want to go home. Was it really home after just two weeks of marriage?

  The carriage lurched forward and quickly turned around.

  “What’s your name?” Aquilla asked.

  Instead of an answer, soft snores filled the coach. Aquilla wondered at the woman’s age—she couldn’t discern any part of her—and what business she had in London.

  Those questions would have to wait, along with the others simmering inside Aquilla’s mind. She felt like such a fool. At the same time, she was still in disbelief. A tiny voice at the edge of her brain warned that this woman could be lying, but she’d seemed to know a lot about Ned. And what reason would she have to lie? Just to obtain passage to London? That made no sense.