The Duke of Lies (The Untouchables Book 9)

by Darcy Burke

  The door to Cuddy’s office was ajar, but Rufus rapped on the wood before pushing it wider. “Good morning,” he said, indicating that Verity should precede him.

  She went into the dim interior. Bright gray spring light filtered through the high-set windows and was supplemented by two lanterns burning—one on the wall and another on Cuddy’s wide desk.

  The steward stood and came around the piece of furniture. He bowed to Rufus. “Good morning, Your Grace. You look very well.” He then bowed to Verity. “Your Grace.”

  “Shall we sit?” Rufus asked.

  “Whatever you prefer,” Cuddy said.

  As Cuddy walked back behind his desk, Rufus waited for Verity to sit. She took one of the pair of chairs facing the steward. Rufus sat down beside her and didn’t waste a moment before launching into their business.

  “I’d like to see the account books.”

  Cuddy nodded. “Of course. I shall have them delivered to the house later today.”

  “Actually, I’d like to see them now, if you please.” Rufus’s tone was pleasant but firm. The old Rufus would’ve yelled, “Give me the goddamn ledger!”

  “Certainly.” Cuddy hesitated a moment, his gaze locked with Rufus’s, before he opened a drawer in the desk. He removed a leather-bound book and slid it across the wood to Rufus. “That is this year and last. I can have the rest sent up to the house. They’re in my storage room.” His head turned slightly, and his gaze shot to the right. The small storage room was behind the office.

  “Thank you,” Rufus said. He opened the ledger and scanned a few pages before snapping it closed with a mild smile. “I look forward to reading this in depth. I must ask why you haven’t shared these with Her Grace.”

  Cuddy’s eyes widened briefly as he darted a look toward Verity. A flash of malice darkened the already dark brown irises before he returned his focus to Rufus. “She hasn’t asked for them.”

  Rufus didn’t so much as look at her before saying. “She’s requested to speak with you and to be more involved in the management of the estate. As the duchess, that is her right. I would argue it’s her duty, particularly in my absence. I don’t like that you ignored her requests. For that reason, I’ve decided to terminate your employment, effective immediately.”

  Cuddy’s eyes now widened so much that Verity feared they might fall from his head. He was a large, beefy man, but his features had always seemed small to her—from heavy-lidded eyes to a thin-lipped mouth to a chin that was practically nonexistent. “Your Grace, please, allow me to rectify this mistake.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be acceptable, Cuddy. We’ve already found a replacement and would like to have him begin as soon as possible.”

  “But you only arrived yesterday,” he sputtered.

  Verity watched the malevolent smile that curled Rufus’s mouth. “I work very efficiently. Some may even say I’m ruthless.”

  A chill dashed up Verity’s spine. That was the Rufus she knew. And yet…not. He’d never been so elegant in his abuse. Not that what he was currently doing could be called abuse. No, what he was doing was called justice and fitting, and she couldn’t have been happier.

  And that caused her to question everything.

  How could she find joy in this man? Because he’d done what she’d asked by terminating Cuddy? It wasn’t just that he’d dismissed the man. He’d done so by clearly stating the reason—that his treatment of her wasn’t to be borne. Furthermore, he wouldn’t give the man a chance to rectify his ways.

  Verity stared at her husband and tried to dredge up her feelings of anger and resentment. But for now, she could only find gratitude and maybe a glimmer of admiration.

  Irritation rose in her throat. No, she wouldn’t admire him.

  Cuddy laid his hands flat on the desk, and Verity could see a slight tremor in his fingers. “But, Your Grace, I’ve nowhere to go.”

  “You may stay for a few days, and I’ll give you three months’ wages and a recommendation—provided I find the accounts in order. I suggest you begin searching for a new position. I presume you’ll land on your feet. Men like you usually do.” He smiled that bland, slightly sinister smile again before turning his head to Verity. “Shall we go?”

  She stared at him in continued bemusement. “Yes.” Rising, she looked at Cuddy, who took a moment to stand. The muscles in his jaw were tense, and lines fanned from his mouth.

  The steward inclined his head toward Rufus. “Thank you for your generosity, Your Grace.” He said the word generosity as if he’d had a pistol pointed at his head threatening him to employ the word or die.

  Rufus scooped the book up from the desk. “One of our vehicles will take you wherever you need to go, should you require it. Do send word as to when you plan to leave. Thank you for your service, Cuddy.” He turned to Verity and held out his hand toward the door.

  She left without saying anything to the steward and preceded Rufus into the bright gray sunlight. Well, not entirely gray, she realized as she squinted up at the sky. A few of the clouds were breaking.

  Rufus fell into step beside her, and they walked back across the lower courtyard, reaching the stairs before she dared to speak. She glanced back at the tower and saw Cuddy standing in the doorway, staring at them. “He’s watching us,” she said.

  “I’m not surprised. Plotting murder, perhaps,” he said softly.

  She snapped her gaze to his profile. “You don’t really think that?”

  “No, no. He’s far too cowardly for that.”

  “How do you know?” Verity recalled what he’d said in the office, that men like Cuddy usually landed on their feet. “You seem to know a great deal about him, yet he’d scarcely started here before you disappeared.”

  “I don’t really, but I can guess. I didn’t care for his hesitation with the account book, and given what you told me of his treatment of you, I have reason to question his authenticity.”

  They walked through the upper gate, out of Cuddy’s line of sight, and Verity relaxed a bit. “You’re sure he won’t really do something awful?”

  “Not entirely, but I plan to keep an eye on him. That’s why I offered one of our vehicles to take him to his destination.” He paused in the upper courtyard and turned toward her. “We have enough vehicles to do that, don’t we? I suppose I should’ve verified that first.”

  Verity blinked at the shadow of vulnerability in his gaze. “Yes, we have several vehicles—a coach, a brougham, a cart, and a chaise. Our stock of horses, on the other hand, will probably not impress you. I haven’t kept up on the stables.” She’d thought of this last night as she’d fought to find sleep, mentally cataloguing all the things he could find fault with—and for which he might blame her and exact a punishment.

  “I wouldn’t expect you to. Why would that be necessary anyway? Do you have sufficient horseflesh for the vehicles? Beau told me all about his pony—and your mare. It sounds as if you’ve managed things fine.”

  “We sold your horse,” she blurted, immediately horrified for telling him in that fashion. She’d dreaded it, but the animal had been difficult for anyone else to ride, so they hadn’t. And he’d become even more difficult, so Cuddy had sold him. “It was Cuddy’s idea.” She hated how that sounded, like she was shifting blame, but it was the truth.

  He cocked his head to the side, his gaze boring into hers. “You thought I’d be angry.”

  “Yes. He was your favorite…creature.” She’d been about to say person, but that made no sense, of course. And yet, he’d treated the animal better than anyone else on the estate. His dogs had come in a close second. Verity had found homes for them with tenants within the first year of his disappearance. All but the smallest hound—Falstaff—who’d clung to her skirts the moment Rufus had left for London. They’d forged a strong bond until Beau was born, and then the dog had shared his adoration with the baby too. He’d died last year, much to her and Beau’s sadness. But now they had his offspring, who nearly had their run of the castle. Alo
ng with the cats, the rabbits, and the squirrel. And soon to be goats.

  “Speaking of creatures,” she said. “I told Beau yesterday that I would see about moving a goat herd closer to the castle. He was quite taken with Whist’s baby goat.”

  “Baby goats are incredibly endearing. Are there several herds on the estate?”

  “Yes, but I was thinking of asking Mr. Maynard. His flock is largest, and he may not mind sparing a few.”

  “I shall ask him this afternoon, when I begin my tour of the estate,” Rufus said. “Would you care to join me? In the absence of a steward, I should be eager for a guide.”

  She blinked at him, once more at a loss for words in the face of another thoughtful invitation.

  “I’ve made you speechless again,” he said. “I seem to do that quite a bit. You think about it and let me know at luncheon.” He’d promised Beau he’d take the midday meal with him.

  “It’s fine. I mean, I can tell you now. Yes, I’ll go with you.” She took a deep breath to calm her suddenly racing heart. “This is all very strange.”

  “I’m afraid I wasn’t a very nice person before.” He said this almost as if he didn’t remember the horrible way in which he’d treated her. “I do hope I’m behaving better since my return.”

  He was, but that didn’t mean she was ready to embrace him. “I meant what I said yesterday,” she said cautiously, afraid to poke the bear. “I don’t want to go back to the way things were.”

  “Nor do I. I thought we were going to behave as if we’d just met.”

  “I’m not sure I can behave any other way. After all this time, I scarcely know you. In fact, I feel as if I don’t know you at all. And yet, I can’t forget who you were before. I’m not sure I want to.” Her strong sense of self-preservation wouldn’t let her.

  “That makes perfect sense to me. Please know that I have no expectations. And I want you to have none of me either.” He gave his head a small shake. “Actually, that’s not quite accurate. I want you to expect kindness, respect, and gratitude for all you’ve done in my absence. You deserve nothing less.”

  “I’ll…try.” She didn’t mean to hesitate, but she couldn’t help it. “It’s going to take me some time.”

  “I understand completely. And I’m delighted you’ll be joining me for the tour. Should we invite Beau?”

  Probably—he’d love it so. But Verity wasn’t ready to expose him to Rufus quite that extensively yet. She wanted time alone with him first, to ensure he really wasn’t a threat to her son. “He has lessons, and I hate to disturb his routine. And don’t tell him, because he’ll try to wheedle his way along.”

  Rufus chuckled softly. “To be a young boy again when we think anything is possible, even changing our mother’s mind.”

  Verity found his sentiment strange. Rufus had rarely spoken of his childhood, and when he had, it was only to curse his father, who’d been cold and autocratic. She had to assume Rufus had taken after him. That made her wonder how his father and his uncle, the former duke, had been so different. Augustus had been warm and kind, though she supposed he’d also possessed an underlying sadness due to the loss of his young son at the very house party where she’d met Rufus.

  “Where is this Entwhistle fellow currently employed?” Rufus asked, drawing her back from her reverie.

  “Bleven House.”

  “Is that far?”

  She looked at him in surprise. Surely he would remember who their neighbors were. “It borders Beaumont Tower to the south.”

  “Right.” He nodded as his mouth split into a self-deprecating smile. “I’ve forgotten so much, I fear.”

  But he remembered his youth. A youth she didn’t necessarily recognize. Did she still think there was a chance he wasn’t actually Rufus? That couldn’t be. The likeness was too strong, and he did know certain things.

  “I shouldn’t visit Entwhistle at Bleven House, but I’d like to speak with him before making a final decision regarding his employment.”

  She’s already hired him, and it was possible Thomas had already informed his employer. “But you told Cuddy we already had a replacement.”

  “I wanted him to be sure my decision was final.”

  His decision. He’d discharged Cuddy, and he’d be the one to hire Thomas. He hadn’t said as much, but she understood what he meant. “I’ve already offered Thomas—Entwhistle,” she corrected herself, “the job.”

  “Oh, he’s Thomas?” When Verity gave him a quizzical look, he said, “Beau mentioned him a few times yesterday. I wondered who he was.” He transferred the account book to his other hand. “Entwhistle is just going to have to understand that I will make the final decision.”

  Verity bristled. “He’s expecting to work here.”

  “And he probably will,” Rufus said evenly. “I can sense your…indignation, and I would remind you that you gave me full autonomy to run the estate.”

  She had. So far, he’d done an excellent job, if firing Cuddy was any indication. Granted, it had only been one day.

  It wasn’t as if she could argue with him. He’d been nothing but deferential and thoughtful since his arrival. Things could be so much worse.

  “My apologies. This is an adjustment.”

  “I understand. And I appreciate your trust.”

  She nearly laughed. That he didn’t have.

  And he likely never would.

  Chapter 5

  Luncheon had been a lively occasion with Beau introducing Kit to his new pet squirrel, Mr. Cheeks. His name was, of course, due to the amount of food he could stuff into the pouches in his mouth. Apparently, Beau had spent the last several weeks coaxing the animal ever closer to the house until the creature had finally come inside. Now he visited each day around midday, much to the chagrin of the three dogs who were also present. The two cats weren’t amused either as they kept their distance and glared at the squirrel—and the dogs, truth be told—with cool dismay.

  The menagerie reminded Kit of his own childhood at the vicarage. His mother had loved cats, and his father’s best friend had been a scrappy terrier who was never more content than on his master’s lap. Which didn’t mean he also didn’t appreciate frolicking with Kit in the yard.

  Those had been happy times. Before his mother had died in yet another failed childbirth. Before darkness had descended upon them and stolen his father’s joy.

  Kit looked over at Verity riding nearby. She was a very handsome woman, and her seat was excellent. She looked as though she’d been born on a horse, the earth-brown skirt of her riding habit nearly blending with the flank of her horse.

  She’d been nervous to have him see the stable, but then she was almost always nervous around him. If she wasn’t, she was confused. Or bemused. Or just outright confounded.

  He still didn’t know what sort of beast he’d been, but he planned to find out. In fact, he’d hoped to do so today, thinking the tenants might shed some light; however, he’d surprised himself by inviting her to join him. That would make things a little more difficult.

  She moved closer to him and gestured to the cottage just ahead. This would be their first stop, apparently. He didn’t expect to see the entire fifty thousand acres in one day, of course, but hoped they would visit a handful of tenants. First on their agenda was visiting Mr. Maynard and his goat herd.

  As they rode into the yard, a woman came from the cottage, wiping her hands on her apron. A girl, not as young as Beau, trailed her down the steps.

  Kit pulled his horse to a stop and dismounted, then turned his attention to helping Verity down. He hadn’t helped her mount—one of the grooms had done that—and wondered what it would be like for him to touch her. Would she flinch? He half expected her to.

  He reached up and gently clasped her waist, helping her to the ground in a fluid motion. He withdrew from her immediately, but the connection had told him several things: her waist was quite trim, she possessed a fair amount of muscle, and she really, really didn’t like him touching her.<
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  As soon as her feet hit the earth, she moved away from him. She was also careful not to make eye contact. He didn’t blame her. He blamed her rotten excuse of a husband.

  Kit turned his attention to the cottage. The girl who’d followed her mother outside was now heading toward a lean-to shed, while the woman strode toward them. She wasn’t wearing a bonnet, so she held her hand to her forehead to shade her eyes.

  The duchess—whose name he still didn’t know—smiled at the woman. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Maynard.”

  “Good afternoon, Your Grace.” Mrs. Maynard executed a fine curtsey. Her gaze dashed over to Kit, while her mouth twitched with perhaps a bit of nerves.

  “Mrs. Maynard, may I present His Grace, the Duke of Blackburn.”

  A short, sharp burst of pride bloomed in Kit’s chest. Would he tire of being introduced like that? Probably not, since he didn’t plan to be here that long.

  Mrs. Maynard’s gaze flashed with surprise before she sank into a deep curtsey. She didn’t quite lift her eyes to his as she rose. “It’s a miracle you’re home, Your Grace. We prayed for your safe return every day.”

  “Did you? Well, I appreciate that. My fortune is undoubtedly due to your thoughtfulness and grace.”

  A pretty blush stained the woman’s cheeks as she finally looked at Kit’s face. But it was only a fleeting moment before she turned her head. He followed the direction of her attention and saw the girl coming back around the house. She was preceded by a man dressed in work clothing. A wide-brimmed hat shielded his face as he strode purposefully toward them.

  Mrs. Maynard rushed to meet him and spoke to him briefly before he continued toward Kit and the duchess. It became clear that Mrs. Maynard had warned her husband as to the identity of their guest.

  He bowed sharply. “Your Grace, we’re honored to have you visit.” He also bowed to the duchess. “Your Grace.”

  “You’re my first stop on a tour of the estate,” Kit said. “I understand you keep an impressive goat herd. Would you mind showing me?”

  “It would be my privilege. Come.” He led them past the shed from whence he’d come toward a large fenced area. “This is just one of the pens,” he said over his shoulder as he approached the gate. “There are four others of similar size.”