The Duke of Deception

by Darcy Burke

  He smiled wryly. “You sound like my aunt. I suppose it’s true—to a point. It was incredibly inconsiderate of me not to tell you about George and to leave you in London when I went to see him. I visit Sutton Park so often because he doesn’t do well when I’m away for too long.” He frowned. “His doctor was concerned about how George would take to you. It seems, based on the lies he told you, that George was trying to drive you away.”

  Yes, everything the veiled woman had said made sense in that context. Instead of being angry at George, however, Aquilla understood why he’d done it—because he needed his brother. “He depends on you.” She could see they were a loving family—regardless of George’s lunacy—and that made her so happy. But it also made her sad to be on the outside of it. “Do you think he’ll come to accept me?”

  “I honestly don’t know.” He withdrew one of his hands from her grip and scrubbed it over his face. “I hope so. He’s…difficult and complicated.” His gaze connected with hers, and she could see just how much he cared for his brother. He stroked his thumb over the back of her hand. “I know you’re angry with me, and you’ve every right to be, but I hope in time you can forgive me.”

  Aquilla’s heart swelled with love for this man who was even more wonderful than she’d imagined. She leaned forward and cupped his face in her hands. “There is nothing to forgive. I love you.” She realized this was the first time she’d said those words to anyone, and it left her feeling both awed and…full.

  “I love you too.” He bent his head and kissed her. It was a soft and simple joining of lips and of shared emotion.

  She’d never felt happier in her life. Or more stupid. She sat back and gasped. “We need to find George. I brought him to London, and he disappeared when we arrived. I’m so sorry, Ned.”

  Ned straightened, and his eyes grew huge. “What happened?”

  “When we got to Satterfield House, he just walked away from the coach. I have no idea where he was going.” She put her hand to her cheek. “I’ve made a mess of this.”

  He stood. “No, you haven’t.” He kissed her forehead. “We’ll find him.”

  Aquilla didn’t know how he could be so optimistic. Wait, yes she did. She knew how it felt to feel completely downtrodden and without hope. Optimism was the only thing that had kept her going.

  A sharp knock on the door drew them both to turn. “Come in,” Aquilla called.

  Lord Satterfield walked in, his wife directly on his heels. Both looked extremely concerned, and Aquilla’s stomach dropped into her feet.

  Satterfield stopped near the head of the table. “Sutton, I just came from your house. I didn’t know you would be here, but it’s most fortuitous.”

  “Why were you at my house?” Ned asked.

  Aquilla heard the apprehension in his tone and took his hand.

  Satterfield looked between them before settling on Ned. “I was at a coffeehouse over on King Street, and a man came in claiming to be the Earl of Sutton.”

  “Oh my God,” Ned breathed, squeezing Aquilla’s hand.

  Satterfield tipped his head to the side and looked contemplative for a moment. “I have to say he looked a bit like you, Sutton, though slighter and with less hair.”

  “It is likely my cousin,” he said tightly. “He’s insane and escaped his supervision. I’m looking for him, actually. Do you know where he is?”

  “Damn me,” Satterfield said, clearly surprised. “I had no idea you had a cousin like that.”

  Aquilla coughed. “Yes, and he’s quite worried about him.”

  “Right, of course. He was ranting about being the true earl and demanding his seat in the House of Lords. Someone fetched a constable to have him escorted out, but things turned a bit violent. Er, your cousin broke some crockery and tried to hit the constable.”

  Aquilla could feel Ned shaking. She squeezed his hand again and edged a bit closer to him.

  “Is he all right?” Ned asked, his voice sounding a trifle thin.

  “I don’t know. I believe the constable took him to the magistrates’ court. I decided to go and see you, in case you might know the man. I never imagined he might be your cousin.”

  “It’s all right. I’ll go to the magistrate now. Thank you.” Ned let go of Aquilla’s hand and went to pick up his hat and gloves.

  Lady Satterfield took a step toward him, her gaze full of sympathetic concern. “Take our coach—you came on horseback, didn’t you?”

  He nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

  Aquilla went to join him. “I’m coming with you.”

  Ned’s lips lifted in a half smile. She could tell that he was worried—and desperate to leave.

  Lady Satterfield turned from them, saying, “I’ll get your things.”

  Ned addressed Satterfield. “Would you mind sending someone to my house with a message? I’d like a few of my footmen to meet us at the magistrates’ court with my coach, then I’ll send yours back.”

  Satterfield nodded. “Of course.”

  “Would you also lend him one of your great coats?” Aquilla asked. “His is soaking wet.”

  “I’ll have Harley fetch it.” Satterfield turned and left the dining room.

  A few minutes later, Ned escorted Aquilla to the entrance hall, where Lady Satterfield met them with Aquilla’s hat and gloves. “And here, take this.” She handed Aquilla a cloak. “It’s cold and will be dark soon.”

  Aquilla kissed her cheek. “Thank you.”

  Harley appeared with a coat and helped Ned into the garment. The earl and countess asked to be kept informed of their progress, then Aquilla and Ned left. They climbed into his coach, where they sat side by side. She didn’t like his pallor or the despair lurking in his eyes. “Say something, Ned.”

  “I just pray he’s all right.”

  She took his hand and clasped it between hers. “He will be.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  When they’d arrived at the magistrates’ court, it had seemed that things were going to end well. The constable who’d greeted them had said they had George upstairs in a room. But when they’d gone to fetch him, he wasn’t there. After Ned had threatened to tear the building apart in search of George, they found someone who’d informed them that he’d been transferred to Bedlam because he was clearly insane.

  By that time, Ned’s coach had arrived, so he and Aquilla and three of his footmen were quickly on their way to Bethlehem Hospital.

  “Ned.” Aquilla’s voice rescued him from his dark thoughts—thinking of George in the place where he’d been tortured for years. She sat beside him, her thigh pressed against his, her fingers stroking his hand. “He’s going to be all right.”

  Ned said nothing, his body so tense, he feared it might crack apart. After what seemed an interminable carriage ride, they arrived at the hospital. He didn’t wait for anyone to open his door or take down the step. He vaulted to the stone courtyard and knew a footman would help Aquilla.

  He practically ran to the door, which was locked. He pounded on the wood and yelled for the superintendent. “Malster, open the door! It’s Sutton!”

  After a minute, the door opened. Malster stood just inside, his expression one of shock and concern. “My lord, I didn’t realize you were coming this evening.”

  Ned pushed his way inside, and Aquilla followed with the footmen behind her.

  Malster bowed to Aquilla. “My lady. We are honored to have you both here.”

  “This is not a typical visit,” Ned bit out, eager to see his brother. “A man was brought in here earlier. A bit taller than me, thin, pale hair with a widow’s peak.”

  “Yes, yes. He came in a short while ago.” His brows dipped. “Do you know this man?”

  “He’s my cousin. Please take me to him immediately.”

  Malster’s Adam’s apple worked, and he darted a glance toward Aquilla. “My lord, I’m afraid he’s being restrained in one of the cells upstairs. He is quite agitated.”

  Ned didn’t
wait for the man to finish before he dashed to the staircase. He heard a flurry of footsteps behind him as well as Malster spouting apologies.

  When Ned got to the top of the stairs, he turned on Malster, his lip curling. “You know that restraint is to be used sparingly. If I find that he’s been hurt in any way, you will answer to me.”

  Malster nodded, fright evident in his eyes.

  Ned spun about and turned left toward the men’s gallery. Malster rushed forward to unlock the door and let him inside.

  “Just up here, my lord.” Malster led him to a cell halfway down the gallery. They were all on the left side, as the right was a wall with windows that provided light for the gallery and the cells.

  Ned could hear his brother yelling and crying, and the ugly past reared up in his mind. How many times had Ned visited George only to hear him rebelling against his situation? Just as many times as George had lain quiet, his leg chained to the wall while he stared into nothing.

  Malster gestured to the cell. “He’s there, my lord.”

  Fury pulsed through Ned. “Open the door.”

  Malster thrust the key into Ned’s hand. “I’ll let you, my lord.”

  Ned heard the fear in the man’s voice and snatched the key. He stepped forward but paused. It would be better to try to calm George before he opened the door, lest he attack. Ned had no idea if that was what he would do, but thought if it were him, he just might.

  He stepped up to the window in the door, where bars separated him from the cell—from his brother. “George?”

  George ceased yelling. His face appeared in the window. His blue-gray eyes were wild and wet, his face red, his mouth open as he gasped for breath. He studied Ned but looked confused.

  Ned worried George was already too far gone. “George, it’s me, Ned.”

  George screamed in his face, then turned and ran to the other side of the cell. Ned could see that he wore a straitjacket. That was what Malster had meant by restrained. At least he wasn’t chained.

  Turning, Ned quietly asked Malster to bring laudanum. Malster nodded profusely and left.

  Aquilla came toward him, her hands clasped and her face drawn with anxiety. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to try to get him to take laudanum so he’ll sleep. Then we can move him back to Sutton Park, where things are familiar.”

  “That will help?” she asked.

  Ned had tried to think of what Dr. Paget would recommend, which was what had led him to come up with the laudanum. Beyond that, Paget would likely say he needed familiarity and routine. Ned could only imagine what it felt like for George to be back here. Even though it was a different place, since the hospital had moved, he had to remember the hell he’d been through, particularly when they’d put the straitjacket on him. Ned didn’t want to know how they’d accomplished that.

  He remembered that Aquilla had asked him a question. “Yes, the laudanum will help. Provided we can get him to take it.” He glanced toward the three footmen, glad to have their assistance should he need it. And he worried that he would.

  George’s yelling abruptly stopped. Ned turned back to the window as George came forward once more. “Who are you?” he asked hoarsely.

  Ned’s throat threatened to close. He coughed. “It’s Ned. I’ve come to take you home.”

  “Home? Is that the place with the fire?” He smiled, but his eyes remained unfocused. “The fire was so warm.”

  “Is that why you lit the fire?” Ned asked softly.

  George nodded. “I was cold. And it was pretty.”

  They’d had this conversation before on many occasions. Ned knew George hadn’t meant to cause harm. “I’m sure it was. The fire is out now, though.”

  “That’s sad.” George frowned, and then he looked at Ned. “I know you.”

  “Yes.”

  George’s eyes gradually lost a bit of their fervor. “Lemon cakes?”

  “Yes, George, lemon cakes.” Tears clogged Ned’s throat, but he refused to let them fall just now.

  George’s gaze traveled past Ned. “Do I know her? She seems familiar.”

  Ned didn’t know what Dr. Paget would say to do, but he didn’t want to hide the truth. “This is my wife, Aquilla.”

  “She’s very pretty.” He leaned closer to the window, his forehead resting against the bars. “Do you know how to make lemon cakes?”

  Aquilla stepped forward. “I can’t say that I do, but I’d be willing to try.” She smiled at him, her eyes so warm and so encouraging. Ned fell in love with her all over again. “Do you like lemon cakes?”

  “They’re our favorite,” George said. “Aren’t they, Ned?”

  Ned exhaled loudly, and it turned into a laugh, an expression of relief and joy. “Yes, they are.”

  George glanced down at himself. “Ned, why am I in this coat? It’s horrid.”

  “Would you like to take it off? I can help you.”

  George nodded, his head banging into the bars. “Ouch. Yes, please.”

  Ned unlocked the door and cast a look back at Aquilla. “Wait there.” He went into the dim cell and hugged his brother tight. “I missed you. Turn around.”

  George pivoted, and Ned untied the coat, then helped him remove it. George tossed it on the floor and stomped on it. Twice. “Good riddance!” Then he turned and started from the cell.

  Malster had arrived with the laudanum. He looked from Ned to George and back to Ned again. “My lord?”

  “I’m not sure we’ll need that after all.”

  “Need what?” George asked. He inclined his head toward the cup in Malster’s hand. “Did he bring me a posset like Dr. Paget?”

  “I don’t think it’s a posset.”

  “Is it laudanum?”

  Sometimes Ned was astounded at what George knew. He might be insane, but he wasn’t stupid. “It is.”

  “Dr. Paget puts it in the posset and in my soup sometimes. It makes me sleepy. I don’t take it when I don’t want to sleep. I think I’d like to sleep now, however.” George looked at Malster. “May I have it?”

  Malster glanced toward Ned, who nodded his approval. If George wanted to sleep, he wouldn’t argue with him.

  The superintendent handed the laudanum to George, who downed the contents and returned the cup. Malster looked at Ned and summoned a feeble smile. “You’re free to take him, my lord. I apologize for the…confusion.”

  “You were doing your job, Malster. Thankless and terrible though it may be.” Ned touched his brother’s elbow. “Come, George. How would you like to spend the night in London at my town house?”

  “I’d like that fine, Ned, thank you.” George smiled, and his eyes were clear. It was a lovely, lucid moment, one for which Ned was extremely grateful. He was also happy to have this memory be the last they would share at Bethlehem.

  Later that evening, after George was ensconced in a guest bedroom snoring loudly, Ned apprised his staff of George’s condition. The trio of footmen who’d accompanied them would take shifts throughout the night to ensure George stayed in his room. They were to notify Ned immediately if he awoke.

  By the time Ned trudged into his bedchamber, he was bone tired. But then his wife stood up from a chair in front of the fireplace, and he was instantly awake.

  “Do you want anything to eat or drink?” she asked softly.

  He shrugged out of his coat and set it on the chair she’d just vacated. “I suppose we should eat.” His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten much all day.

  “I’ll have something brought up.” She turned to go to her chamber, but Ned took a few steps and snagged her elbow, pivoting her about.

  “Don’t go. Not yet.”

  She moved closer and slid her arms around his waist, then laid her cheek against his chest. “I’m so glad we found him.”

  “Thank God, yes.” He kissed the top of her head.

  She looked up at him. “What will happen now? Do you think anyone will give his claims any merit?”
/>
  “That he’s the Earl of Sutton?” Once they’d left Bethlehem, the day’s events had run through Ned’s mind. At the forefront was what George had done. “I don’t know if anyone will believe him.”

  Aquilla laid her head back against his chest and hugged him tightly. “I sent a note to the Satterfields and told them that all is well. Will you go to Sutton Park in the morning?”

  Ned tipped her chin up so he could look into her beautiful lapis eyes. “We will go to Sutton Park in the morning.”

  “Only if you want me to. I understand you need to focus on George right now. That is what you call him?”

  Ned tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “The name Peregrine has no meaning for him.”

  “He’s so lucky to have you.”

  A knock on the door made them both turn. Ned left her to answer the summons. The butler stood at the threshold. “I’m sorry to bother you, my lord, but there’s a Baron Lindsell to see you.”

  Ned looked back at Aquilla, who was now frowning. He nodded toward Skern. “I’ll be right down. Leave him in the hall. He won’t be here long.”

  “As you wish, my lord.” Skern left.

  He took his coat from the chair and pulled it back on. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Aquilla patted her nape. “I'm coming with you.”

  They went downstairs, hand in hand. Lindsell stood in the entry hall, his dark, curly hair unkempt and his eyes bloodshot. He glowered at Ned as he descended.

  “I can’t imagine why you’re calling at this hour,” Ned said, pausing on the last step. “Can’t you go annoy someone else?”

  Lindsell’s lips curved into a smile that came nowhere near his eyes. His gaze was too busy sweeping over Aquilla with lascivious interest.

  Ned let go of her hand and stalked into the hall, coming just a few steps from Lindsell. “Look at my wife again, and I’ll thrash you to within an inch of your life.”

  Lindsell straightened while his eyes narrowed. “You’ll do no such thing. Because you’ll be in jail.” He tossed the last word out like a poorly aimed weapon. His breath stank of liquor.