by Darcy Burke
Kit had seen entries in the journals to support that, but hearing Whist say it made his spine chill. He’d given money to other boys but, after a point, not to his own son. And now that Kit needed it, there seemed to be none to have. Or at least not as much as he’d hoped. And here he was spending money on a goat pen and shed. What the hell was wrong with him? He should’ve taken that money and gone. He needed a new ship and a new crew, not to build lodgings for goats.
And yet here he was with no intent to leave. At least not yet, not when there were things to be done and an opportunity to leave Beaumont Tower—and its denizens—better than he’d found them.
“I can see the duchess doesn’t spend like that. In fact, she runs a rather frugal household.”
“They’ve no need for extravagance,” Whist said a bit defensively.
“I didn’t say they did. However, if the estate is running similarly and the expenses have decreased, why is there no surplus?”
Whist and his grandson exchanged a look of concern.
“As it happens,” Kit said, “I would like you to review the accounts. Perhaps you can help me discover what’s gone wrong.”
Now Whist registered the surprise Kit had come to expect from damn near everybody on the bloody estate. The duke had been a right prick. Whist answered carefully. “We would be happy to, Your Grace. However, such a review would require us to interview every tenant and audit the information recorded in the journals. I must point out that Thomas is still, for a spell anyway, employed at Bleven House. He doesn’t have an excess of time to conduct an overview of Beaumont Tower in addition to his duties, particularly if you don’t plan to hire him.”
Meaning, if Kit would just hire him outright, everyone’s needs—and desires—could be met. Kit ought to just hire the man. Whist had been a damned good steward from everything Kit had heard, and he had to imagine the man’s grandson was no different.
Why was Kit hesitating? He’d be leaving soon. Or would he? He honestly didn’t know. He wasn’t going to take money to fund his ship—not until he was certain the estate wouldn’t suffer.
Kit turned his focus to Entwhistle. “When can you start?”
The man, who was perhaps five years Kit’s junior, straightened. “In a fortnight or so. I could come Sunday—it’s my day off—to begin the review, if that’s acceptable.”
“That is, thank you,” Kit said.
“I can start now, if you’d like,” Whist offered.
“That would be helpful.” Kit indicated a small stack of journals on the corner of the desk. “Those are the accounts since you retired.”
“Do you mind if I sit here and review them?” Whist asked.
“Not at all. I have other matters that require my attention. I’m to begin construction on a goat pen and shed not far from the stables.”
Whist’s mouth turned up. “For Beau?” He winced. “I’m sorry, for his lordship?”
The man’s familiarity didn’t bother Kit. What he wondered was how familiar the younger Entwhistle had become with Beau—and with the duchess.
“Yes. I believe I have you to thank for igniting his goat obsession.”
Whist chuckled. “That boy loves animals of all kinds.”
“I should return to Bleven House,” Entwhistle said, rising. He gave Kit an earnest look. “Thank you for the opportunity. I look forward to serving you and Beaumont Tower to the best of my ability.”
Kit rose and inclined his head toward the younger man. “I’m confident you will.”
Entwhistle departed, leaving Kit alone with Whist, who was now watching him with a dubious look. The anxiety returned, and Kit wondered if now would be the moment when someone would pierce his ruse. He sat down, but only perched on the chair in case he felt the need to flee at a moment’s notice.
“You’re quite changed, if I may say so,” Whist said.
“Everyone says so.” Kit saw no reason to pretend otherwise. He knew people discussed it. Several times now, he entered a room or the stables to have the staff grow instantly quiet. He supposed it could just be because he was the duke, but he knew better. They looked at him with a mix of fear and distrust. He was desperate to change that. Sooner or later, Beau would hear what kind of man his father had been. Maybe, in the time he had here, he could lessen that blow by being a man Beau could be proud of.
“How?” Whist asked, drawing Kit back to his question. “Where have you been all this time?”
“Sailing. I was impressed.”
Whist’s brows arched. “Indeed? Can’t imagine you on a ship. Did you enjoy it?” He waved his hand as his mouth tipped into a self-deprecating smile. “Of course you didn’t. You’re a duke and were pressed into hard service.” His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized Kit a moment. “I guess that’s why you changed. Or so it seems.”
A tremor of anxiety rattled Kit’s frame. “Are you suggesting I’m somehow dishonest?”
Whist shrugged. “The changes are great. What’s to say you won’t revert to the man you were? I don’t mind saying I worried about the estate under your care. But then, you never would’ve sat for a meeting like this, let alone invited me and my grandson to come.”
Kit winced inwardly. This was nothing he hadn’t already surmised, but hearing it over and over again was beginning to weigh on him. Perhaps that was why he was so committed to ensuring things were set to rights before he left.
The air in the room seemed to thin a bit as Kit’s discomfort grew. He stood once more, anxious to escape the small space. “I am an entirely different person than I was before I disappeared. One might even say that Rufus is dead.”
Whist stared up at him, his eyes dark and flinty in the light filtering from the windows high in the stone wall. “I hope so, because there are many of us who will ensure the duchess and her son are safe from the man we thought we knew.”
Kit sensed the man’s guilt along with his righteous conviction. “No one wants that more than I.” He stepped around the desk and looked pointedly at the old man. “No one. Take as much time as you need here. If you’re up for it, we’ll visit with some of the tenants this afternoon.”
Without waiting for a response, Kit left the office, closing the door behind him as he stepped into the cloudy spring morning.
He expelled the breath he’d been holding. One of these days, someone was going to call him out on this charade. He’d do well to be gone before that could happen. Perhaps he should go now.
Without the money he needed?
Not only did he have nowhere else to go—and going to work on someone else’s ship was out of the question—he couldn’t turn his back now, not when he suspected Cuddy had been a less than honest steward. If the man had been stealing from the estate, and Kit wouldn’t be surprised to learn he had, Kit would find him and make him return what he’d stolen.
A voice in the back of Kit’s mind asked, but hadn’t you planned to steal from the estate?
It wasn’t stealing if your father promised it to you and reneged.
And he would do his best to leave a positive mark on Beaumont Tower and everyone here. He’d be a duke to remember, for himself as well as them, if only for a short time.
Chapter 7
Over the past ten days, Verity had lived with a stranger. Rufus looked like her husband and sounded like him—as far as she could remember; it was difficult to tell since he spoke to her in an entirely different manner. However, his actions and behavior continued to make her question whether he really was Rufus.
Yet with each day that passed, she came to a sinking realization: she wanted him to be.
Not for her. No, she had no interest in him. But for Beau, he’d turned out to be warm and caring and quite engaged in his son’s upbringing. He’d procured a toy boat, had taught Beau about the Caribbean and its islands as well as the coast of America. Beau had hung on his father’s every word, and to watch the relationship develop between them was more than Verity could have ever wanted.
While making her jealous
at the same time.
It was difficult to be angry with Rufus since he was so helpful and so unassuming, but at the same time, Verity missed her independence. Not that Rufus seemed to care what she did. In fact, while they shared a home and a son, their relationship was strictly… What was it exactly?
She watched him standing at the gate of the new goat pen, Beau anxiously hopping from foot to foot at his side as the goats arrived. Mr. Maynard led them into the pen. There were eleven, including a very small baby who was only a week old. Beau went directly to that kid, and Verity smiled as he petted the animal while the goat bleated softly in return.
Verity stood outside the pen and surveyed the enclosure Rufus had built along with the impressive shed. Mr. Dooley had offered his assistance, as had Mr. Maynard. The three of them, along with help from a couple of the grooms, had assembled the entire thing over the past handful of days. That Rufus was capable of the manual labor, let alone managing the project, was nothing short of stunning. Verity still couldn’t quite believe it.
And therein lay her singular problem with him. She just couldn’t quite believe him. She wanted to believe him. Who would prefer what he was before to who he was now?
But preference wasn’t the issue. She just couldn’t be sure he was really Rufus. And if he wasn’t, who was he? An imposter who appeared more ducal than the real duke.
In his new wardrobe, he looked important and approachable, and most of all, terribly, terribly handsome. When she’d first met him at the house party, she’d found him attractive. They’d danced and sat together at a dinner. He’d been charming and pleasant, even after the tragic death of Augustus’s son, who’d fallen into the pond and drowned. In fact, Rufus had been the one to find him and had taken the boy’s death quite hard. He’d also been supportive and comforting to Augustus—behavior that impressed Verity and was the reason she’d accepted his marriage proposal before she and her father had left.
Six months later, they’d returned so she could wed Rufus, and that very night, she met the real man behind the façade. After that, she’d realized outward looks meant nothing.
Which was why he was far more attractive to her now that his character had improved so drastically. But had he changed enough? For what? In what way would she want or expect their marriage to change? She shuddered at the thought.
She blinked as she realized he was coming toward her, his hat pulled low over his brow against the sun.
“Aren’t you coming in to see the goats?” he asked.
“I plan to, yes. I was just watching Beau.” And you. But she didn’t say that.
His green eyes—she still couldn’t remember them ever being that color—sparkled in the afternoon light. “He’s quite enthralled.”
“He is indeed. Thank you for this.” She genuinely meant it. His return had meant so much for Beau, and for him to take such an active role in his son’s life was astonishing. And more than most fathers would do.
Rufus’s gaze fixed somewhere beyond her. “Ah, here come the Entwhistles.”
Verity looked over her shoulder and saw Thomas driving a cart. His grandfather sat beside him. “Did you invite them?”
“I did. This is, after all, indirectly Whist’s fault.”
Verity smiled. She was growing used to his sense of humor, but it still took her by surprise sometimes. “I suppose it is. It’s kind of you to include them.”
“I had to, really. Whist spends a great deal of time here, and I fear he would’ve invited himself if I hadn’t.”
“Would you have minded?”
“Goodness no, he’s more than welcome. He’s practically family.”
Verity noticed he’d changed his speech a bit since arriving. That first few days he would have said “hell no,” but now hell had been replaced with goodness. It seemed he’d had to relearn being a duke. Or actually learn in the first place, because she didn’t think he’d mastered it very well before he’d disappeared. “It certainly feels like it, given the amount of time he’s been spending here for the audit.”
“True. But that will decrease when Thomas takes over in a few days.”
Thomas had helped his employer find a new steward and was currently helping him get settled. “I’m surprised he found time to be here today,” she said. “I would think he’d be too busy at Bleven House.”
“It is Sunday, his day off,” Rufus noted.
Thomas and Whist approached them, and while Whist went directly into the goat pen to see Beau, Thomas walked to where Verity stood outside the fence. He looked toward Rufus and offered a slight bow. “Thank you for including us today, Your Grace.”
“It seemed fitting since Beau became enamored of your grandfather’s goat.”
“That’s true,” Thomas said with a laugh. “And do you know, I think he’s going to offer Beau that goat since he has a place to keep her.”
“That is too generous of him,” Verity said. “I thought he was rather fond of his goats.”
“He is, but you should know he’s fonder of Beau.”
“Papa! Papa!” Beau’s gleeful voice carried to them.
With a grin, Rufus pivoted. “It sounds as though that offer may just have been made.”
Verity couldn’t suppress her smile as she watched Beau take his father’s hand and excitedly talk while he gestured toward Whist.
“You look happy,” Thomas said, drawing her attention.
She considered herself a happy person—generally. But the way he made the observation made it sound as though it was an oddity. “I am.”
“I wasn’t sure you would be, but Grandfather says His Grace is kind and thoughtful, and that everyone seems to like him, especially the tenants.”
“Yes, I think they do.” They ought to since he spent most of his time with them. And when he wasn’t meeting them and helping them and soliciting their assistance with the audit, he spent his time with Beau. Or building this goat pen for Beau.
Thomas put his hand on the top of the fence and angled himself toward the pen instead of her. “I’m glad for you.” The note of regret in his tone said something different, but she wasn’t sure what to say to that.
She thought back to when Rufus had returned. That same day she’d offered Thomas the steward position, and she’d begun to consider him as maybe something other than someone who would manage the estate. Since her cousin Diana had visited last December—and married her husband—Verity had begun to look at men in a different way, a way she never had before. Only, she didn’t meet very many that were unmarried or the appropriate age. Thomas, however, was near her age, attractive, intelligent, and unmarried. Furthermore, her son liked him, and he was good with Beau.
She hadn’t really considered a courtship, but the possibility had entered her mind. But then Rufus had returned, and now all that was moot. Thomas’s behavior seemed to indicate the possibility may have entered his mind too.
“Are you still looking forward to working here?” she asked, wondering if this would be awkward now.
He looked toward her. “Of course. It’s an extraordinary opportunity, and I think I’ll enjoy working for His Grace.” He said this with a bit of the surprise she still felt on a daily basis. One would think she’d be used to Rufus’s alteration over the past fortnight, but the change was just so very drastic.
“Mama, Thomas!” Beau called. “Why are you standing out there?”
“I’ve no idea,” Thomas murmured with a grin. “I’m going in.” He glanced toward her. “Are you coming?”
“How can I refuse?”
He held the gate open for her with a grand gesture. She curtsied to him and laughed as she moved past him. Her gaze moved to Beau and caught a different pair of green eyes watching her closely.
Rufus’s gaze was inscrutable before he withdrew it from her, but not before she felt a flash of heat along her spine. Confused, she ascribed it to the warm afternoon.
Beau excitedly told her about Whist offering his baby goat, and Verity thanked him profusely
for his generosity.
“It’s my pleasure to see the boy so delighted. And he’s promised me I can visit whenever I like. Because I’m family, you see.” He winked at Beau, who laughed before taking off running after Racer. It seemed the goat liked to be chased, and Beau was more than eager to oblige.
The sound of a coach arriving in the stable yard drew everyone’s attention. Verity sucked in a breath as soon as the door opened and out stepped her dear cousin. “Diana!” She felt as giddy as Beau with his goats as she hurried from the pen.
By the time Verity reached the yard, Diana and Simon had stepped away from the coach. And Verity instantly knew something was different. Something wonderful. But she didn’t say a word. Not yet. There would be time for them to gossip like magpies.
They wrapped each other in a tight embrace and then Verity hugged Simon next. “I’m so glad you came,” she said.
“As soon as we could.” Diana looked past Verity at the goat pen. “Is that him?”
Verity turned. Though there were three men standing together, it was clear who “him” was. “Yes.”
“And you say he just rode up on a horse after six and a half years?” Simon shook his head. “I hope he had a good reason for staying away.” He said this with humor.
“He was kidnapped and pressed into naval service,” Verity said. “But he won’t say much beyond that. He’s an entirely different person from the man I married.”
“You don’t mean that literally?” Diana asked.
Did she? Sometimes she was certain he had to be someone else. And other times, she convinced herself that he was Rufus. How could he not be? “No.” She didn’t sound convinced because she wasn’t. Yet, she couldn’t quite bring herself to voice her fear. Because if he wasn’t Rufus…
Simon looked slightly alarmed. “Is that a bad thing?”
“On the contrary, it’s a very good thing. He’s much improved.”
Diana smiled at her. “I’m so glad.”
“I suppose we should meet him,” Simon said. “That is why we’ve come all this way.”
