by Darcy Burke
She waved him off as they reached their horses. “Well, it’s true.” She looked at his costume. “If Kirwin brought your clothing, why are you still wearing this?”
Because none of it had fit. He was, apparently, a couple of inches taller than his cousin and far wider in the shoulders. His legs were also a bit more muscular, which had made the breeches impossible to wear. He decided to seize on that excuse. “It seems my years at sea have increased the breadth of my shoulders and the circumference of my thighs.” He laughed, hoping she wouldn’t recall what Bricker had said earlier.
Her gaze dipped over him very briefly, and that enticing bit of color returned to her cheeks. “I can see that. I suppose you’ll need to summon a tailor. Or has Kirwin already taken care of that?”
“He has. The tailor will come to the castle tomorrow.”
She nodded with a half smile. It wasn’t as splendid as the one she’d given him earlier, but he’d take it like a child grasping a sweet at Yuletide.
Kit helped her onto her horse once more, and they waved to Bricker and Dooley as they rode onto the track back toward the castle.
The moment they rode into the stable yard, Kit sensed the air of tension. He swung off his horse as Kirwin strode toward them with purpose.
A groom helped the duchess dismount while Kit addressed the butler. “Is something amiss?”
Clearly it was, given Kirwin’s pitched brows and slightly gray color. “It’s his lordship.” He turned his primary focus to the duchess, which Kit understood. His heart started to race, and he could only imagine what she must be feeling. “Please come at once—to the east garden.”
Kit would’ve broken into a hard sprint if he remembered where the bloody hell that was located. Instead, he moved beside the duchess as she picked up her skirts and ran as quickly as she could. All the while, he prayed Beau was all right.
Chapter 6
As they hurried to the east garden, Verity tried not to panic. “What is wrong with Beau?” she asked Kirwin.
“He followed Whiskers up into the oak tree—farther than he’s ever gone before—and I’m afraid he can’t get down.”
They crossed the lower courtyard to the entrance tower and dashed around the side of the castle to the east garden. The oak tree was about thirty feet tall with a jumble of limbs to climb and stood at the far corner of the garden.
“He’s climbed this tree before?” Rufus asked as they hastened along the path.
“Several times, but he knows not to go too high.” Even so, he often tried as temptation overcame him. Which was why he required supervision. “Where is his nurse?” Verity asked just as she saw the woman wringing her hands beneath the tree.
Kirwin gestured with his hand. “There, Your Grace.”
Verity rushed forward. “What happened?”
The nurse began to cry. “Oh, Your Grace, I told him not to go any higher, but he was insistent that Whiskers needed help.”
Clearly the cat did not, since the gray animal was now seated beneath the tree, staring up the trunk.
“Mama?”
Verity went to the trunk and looked up into the branches until she found Beau. He was quite far up. “I’m here, Beau.”
“Excuse me.” Rufus’s deep voice sounded near her ear. He’d shed his coat, and she turned her head to see Kirwin held the garment.
“Are you going to get him?” she asked.
“Of course.” He started up the trunk and climbed to Beau with speed and ease, as if he climbed trees all the time.
She saw him talking to Beau, who clutched the branch with both arms. His little face was drawn and pale, and Verity longed to hold him close and tell him everything would be all right. Then she’d scold him for not listening to her or to Nurse.
It took several minutes of what looked like cajoling, but then Rufus moved. He seemed to dangle from the tree, and Verity’s breath caught. He put his back to Beau, and a moment later, one of her son’s arms wrapped around his neck. It took another moment, during which Verity still didn’t breathe, but Beau’s other arm joined the first, clasping Rufus tightly. Beau’s eyes were tightly closed, and Verity fought to keep hers open. If he dropped her son…
Rufus said something, and Beau’s eyes came open. Then Rufus began to descend, far more slowly than he’d gone up. Verity had the sense he could’ve made it down in half the time it had taken to ascend but didn’t because of his precious cargo.
When he reached the main trunk and was just a few feet from the ground, she finally exhaled. Rufus’s boots hit the dirt, and Verity stepped forward to take Beau from his back. Beau transferred his arms to her and squeezed his legs around her middle.
“I’m sorry, Mama.” He whimpered against her neck for a moment, and she held him close as she pressed her lips to his dark head.
“You’re safe now,” she said. Her gaze drifted to Rufus as Kirwin helped him don his coat. The butler brushed at something on Rufus’s sleeve and looked at him with something akin to admiration.
She understood because she felt that too, and she had no idea what to do about that. She’d loathed and despised him for so long.
Beau lifted his head from her shoulder and turned to look at Rufus. “Did you see what Papa did? He’s the best climber ever!”
“I did see,” Verity murmured.
“Because of all the rigging on the ships. He said the first time he had to climb up, he was terrified, but that he had to do it.”
“Just as you had to come down,” Rufus said with a half smile. “We have to learn to conquer our fears. You did that today, and I’m proud of you.”
Beau seemed to swell in her arms so that she could practically feel the joy his father’s words gave him. Verity wasn’t immune either. “Thank you,” she said, though it was a far too simple expression of her appreciation. It wasn’t just that he’d saved Beau but that he’d taught the boy a valuable lesson.
She would have expected him to punish Beau. In fact, even now, she waited for him to address the fact that Beau had ignored his nurse. When he didn’t, she set her son down and squatted to look him in the eye.
“Beau, I am very glad you’re safe, and it sounds as if you learned a lesson about being brave. However, you also need to learn a lesson about listening to Nurse. What if Papa hadn’t been here to save the day?” She practically choked on those words, never imagining she would say them.
Beau’s gaze dropped to the ground. “I would still be up in that tree,” he muttered. “I’m sorry, Mama. I should have listened to Nurse.” He lifted his green eyes to hers. “Should I have a punishment?”
Verity acknowledged that she was perhaps too lenient with Beau, but he was a good boy overall. She looked up at Rufus, who was watching them. He gave a slight shrug, clearly leaving the matter up to her. He was doing precisely what he’d said and not meddling in things beyond the management of the estate.
“You probably should,” she said, looking back to Beau. “No tree climbing for three days.”
Beau opened his mouth, likely to protest, but he glanced at his father and nodded. “Yes, Mama. But then can Papa teach me how to get up and down by myself? He promised me.”
He had? That must have been one of the things they’d been discussing up in the tree. Along with Rufus’s own fear at having to climb the rigging of a ship. She found herself intrigued by the experiences that had changed this man, and more than a trifle curious. Too bad he’d said he wouldn’t speak of them. Except, it seemed, when he needed to persuade his son to come down from a tree.
Would there be a reason he’d need to confide in her about the past six and a half years? She couldn’t see one, but right now, she accepted that her life had turned completely upside down.
“I’ll talk to him about it,” Verity said, rising. Part of her still feared to entrust Beau to Rufus, but so far, he’d proven himself up to the task. “But now I’d like you to go upstairs and change out of your dirty clothes.”
“Yes, Mama.” Beau gave her a quick hu
g, then went to Rufus and hugged him too—albeit for just a moment longer. Or so it seemed.
Jealousy needled through Verity as she watched Beau take Nurse’s hand and walk back toward the house. She turned to Rufus. “I suppose we must be grateful for your time aboard ship.”
He shrugged. “I would’ve rescued him anyway, just perhaps a bit more slowly.”
“I guess you did conquer your fear,” she said, thinking how it was common knowledge that he hadn’t liked to climb to the tops of the towers.
“Yes.” Had that been a flash of uncertainty in his gaze? “I think I’ll go inside and change as well,” he said. “And perhaps take a bath before dinner.”
Kirwin turned toward the castle. “I’ll go and arrange that, Your Grace.”
Rufus smiled and held up his hand. “That’s not necessary. I can direct a footman.” He inclined his head toward them and returned to the castle, leaving Verity alone with the butler.
They were quiet watching Rufus disappear from view as he went back through the entrance gate.
It was Kirwin who spoke first. “He’s quite changed, Your Grace. If it’s not too forward of me to say.”
“It’s not, and I agree.” Verity narrowed her eyes and looked back toward the tree before starting toward the house. Kirwin fell into step beside her. “He said you found his clothes—from before. Thank you for thinking of that.”
“They didn’t fit.”
“So he said. He also told me you arranged for a tailor to visit tomorrow.”
“I did. It was absolutely necessary.” He fell quiet for a few steps before saying, “I didn’t see him try on the clothes, but I did watch him hold a coat up and realized straightaway that it would never fit.”
“Yes, he’s bigger after his time away.” More muscular, which had been readily demonstrated by all the activities he’d undertaken that day. Now, as she thought of him climbing the tree, she had to admit he was remarkably well formed. She didn’t recall him having muscles like that, but then she’d endeavored to touch as little of him as possible.
“Actually, he seems a bit taller as well,” Kirwin said. “And I noticed he didn’t wear the boots, which were practically new when he disappeared. I don’t think those fit either.”
“My feet changed size after I had Beau,” Verity said. Not that Rufus had borne a child, obviously, but the point was that changes could happen. Was she trying to make excuses against the possibility that he wasn’t actually Rufus? And yet, how could that be? He looked so much like him, and he knew things that a stranger wouldn’t.
He’d known Kirwin, and he’d asked why Beau’s name wasn’t Archibald. She suddenly wanted to probe further and see what else he knew—or didn’t.
“I don’t know what prompted him to change so much, but I’m quite glad,” Kirwin said. “For his lordship’s sake as well as yours.”
Verity agreed but didn’t say so.
As they moved across the lower courtyard, Kirwin looked over at her. “Mrs. Hunsacker and I wanted to apologize for our behavior after you first came here. We knew he wasn’t treating you very well, but we were too afraid to say anything. I like to think I would have, if he hadn’t disappeared.”
She stopped at the base of the stairs leading to the path that went to the upper gatehouse. “I’m sure you would have.”
Looking back, she’d no idea how she would have survived being married to him. The abuse had started with insults and progressed to degradation. Then he’d started to touch her more roughly, which echoed his brash treatment of her in the bedchamber. Those pinches and grabs had become pushing and then hitting, but that hadn’t been his preferred method of torture. No, that was refusing her things—her finest undergarments, food and drink, and finally sleep.
Two days before he’d disappeared, she’d disappointed him in bed, and he’d made her stand in the corner for the remainder of the night, saying that if he awoke and found her sleeping or moved, he’d make her spend the night outside. It had been pouring rain. And since he tended to wake once or twice in the night to use the chamber pot, she’d stayed there, too terrified to move.
“When I first saw him yesterday, I was distressed,” she said softly.
“We were too.” Kirwin’s support meant more to her than he could know. “We immediately pledged to keep you and his lordship safe—at any cost.”
“It seems as though you won’t have to take any drastic measures. He does seem rather different.” She only prayed he stayed that way.
Kirwin perhaps shared her reservations. “If we have the slightest inclination that he’s reverting to his old ways, we will protect you.”
She touched his arm and gave him an affectionate smile. “Thank you, Kirwin, and please thank Mrs. Hunsacker. But I caution you to be careful. He is a duke after all, and next to him, we are all nothing.” Rufus had reminded her of that so many times. In fact, this entire conversation only served to remind her of how awful he’d been. She suddenly wanted a bath too, to wash away the complacency that had settled around her that afternoon. She would scrub off his kindness, his care, and his touch—even that had been drastically altered. When he’d helped her to mount and dismount all afternoon, she’d almost imagined him touching her with affection.
Almost.
She couldn’t allow herself to believe he was anything other than the devil she knew him to be.
Two days passed in a blur as Kit spent considerable time planning the new goat pen and shed, visiting more tenants, and reviewing the account books following the departure of Cuddy late the day before. Kit looked down at the open book, which included entries through last week, and frowned. He didn’t understand why repairs hadn’t been made, such as to the clock in the courtyard, or why horses had been sold. The estate seemed to be doing well, and yet there was no surplus.
He’d have to read them a second time. Thankfully, he was a very fast reader.
A knock on the office door drew Kit to stand. Anxiety coursed through him, and he rolled his shoulders to shake it off. He’d asked for this meeting, had invited the Entwhistles here. Would Whist recognize him…
“Come in,” Kit called, sounding far more calm and collected than he felt.
The door pushed open, and the former steward came inside. He pulled his hat from his head to reveal a thinning patch of gray hair. A man of average height and build, Whist barely looked older than when Kit had seen him last, some seventeen years ago. There were, however, a few more lines around his eyes, and his frame seemed a bit less robust.
He was followed by a taller man with wider shoulders and bright blue eyes. This must be his grandson, the seemingly popular Thomas Entwhistle, who had charmed both the duchess and Beau.
And whom Kit wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to hire. He well understood the duchess’s desire to employ her own choice, and he meant to exercise the same right.
Kit came around the desk and extended his hand. “Whist, it’s good to see you again.”
The older man stared at his hand a moment before cautiously shaking it. “Good morning, Your Grace. Allow me to present my grandson, Mr. Thomas Entwhistle.”
Entwhistle bowed and seemed even more reluctant to shake Kit’s hand. It was then that Kit finally understood that a duke shouldn’t be shaking his inferiors’ hands. Hell, he’d been doing it with the tenants since his arrival, and while they’d also hesitated, he hadn’t put it together.
Eager to put the awkward, and perhaps telling, moment behind them, he circled back around the desk and gestured for them to sit. “Thank you both for coming today. As you know, we are looking to employ a new steward.”
“Looking?” Whist said with surprise, his brows climbing. “Her Grace offered the position to Thomas.”
“I’m aware, but that was before I returned home. Now that I’m here, I will make the final decision.”
“But you dismissed Cuddy?” Entwhistle asked.
Kit’s invitation to this meeting had included the information that Cuddy was no longer servi
ng as steward. He hadn’t indicated why, but imagined that sort of gossip traveled quickly across the estate. And Whist resided on the estate in a retirement cottage. This prompted Kit to say, “Whist, I’ve a tenant who needs to retire to a cottage where he can keep a small flock of sheep. Where he lives now is too much of a burden.”
“Bricker? He likely should’ve moved to a smaller place a few years ago.” Whist shook his head. “I offered my assistance to Cuddy from time to time—when he was new to the position—but I gave up when he never wanted it. I should’ve just checked on things myself.”
This was, of course, similar to the duchess’s regret. “Cuddy gave the appearance of doing an efficient job, and if the account books are to be believed at their face value, things are in excellent order.”
Entwhistle leaned slightly forward in his chair. “You don’t sound convinced.”
“Because I’m not. There should be a surplus based on what I’m hearing from tenants, but when I reviewed the books last night and this morning, I’m not seeing evidence of that.”
Whist eyed Kit skeptically, making Kit tense. “Forgive me for saying so, Your Grace, but your estate management experience isn’t very extensive. Thomas and I could review things and provide an expert opinion. But perhaps that’s why you summoned us here.”
Relief poured through Kit. So far, the man seemed not to recognize him for anything other than what he was—the Duke of Blackburn, Kit’s handshaking faux pas notwithstanding. With that fear somewhat laid to rest, Kit now found himself mildly annoyed by Whist’s judgment. Which was ludicrous because everything he’d learned about estate management had come seventeen years ago, and he’d never imagined he’d have occasion to put it to use. “Not primarily.” He’d invited them before his suspicions had taken root. “But now that I’ve reviewed the accounts, I find I have some questions. It seems the former duke—Augustus—spent outside his means. Is that an accurate assessment?”
Whist looked pained. “I’m afraid so. He liked to host parties and demonstrate his power and wealth. He also donated quite a bit of money to various charitable causes, particularly orphaned boys.”
