The Duke of Lies (The Untouchables Book 9)

by Darcy Burke

  Diana elbowed him gently and gave him a look of loving exasperation. “And to see Verity and Beau. And to share our news in person.” She turned her glowing expression to Verity, confirming her suspicions. “Simon and I are expecting a child in the fall. I do hope you’ll be his godmother.”

  “Her godmother,” Simon corrected.

  Diana rolled her eyes with a chuckle. “I’ve already told you it’s a boy.”

  “How can you possibly know?” Simon looked at Verity. “Did you?”

  Verity thought back. She’d been so terrified that Rufus might return and that he’d be as horrid to their child as he was to her. She just prayed her child would be safe from harm and hadn’t given a thought to its sex.

  That wasn’t entirely true. When she’d first realized she was expecting, she’d hoped for a boy because it would make Rufus happy. He’d made it clear he expected her to become pregnant as soon as possible and that her primary role in their marriage was to provide an heir and at least one spare.

  “I didn’t know,” Verity said softly. “But that doesn’t mean Diana doesn’t.” And she truly believed that. Diana’s situation was vastly different from Verity’s. Just watching them together, their love was palpable. Simon’s hand hadn’t left Diana’s back, and they stood close enough that her shoulder touched his chest.

  “Well, we shall see,” Simon said, sounding quite skeptical. “Now let’s go meet this husband of yours.”

  Verity tensed. She’d told Diana about Rufus, but only in general terms. No one knew the specifics of her marriage, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever reveal them. Especially not now when he was so…likeable. Anyone who hadn’t known him before would never believe he was capable of such cruelty.

  They walked to the goat pen, Verity a bit ahead as Diana and Simon followed arm in arm. Verity had told Rufus that her cousin and cousin-in-law would be visiting soon.

  Rufus met them at the gate and opened it. “Welcome, Duke, Duchess.” He inclined his head to both of them.

  Simon offered his hand. “Call me Romsey, if you please.”

  “Very well. I hope you’ll call me Blackburn.”

  “Blackburn… Such a dastardly name. Sounds like a pirate.”

  Rufus laughed. And laughed. And then laughed some more. He wiped a hand beneath his eye as he sought to gain control. “I beg your pardon. I’m not entirely certain why, but that’s incredibly amusing. Don’t you think?”

  Verity stifled a smile. Because he’d been on a privateering vessel, no doubt.

  Beau skipped toward them. “Think what, Papa?” Before waiting for an answer, he hugged Diana. “I’m so pleased you’re here, Auntie Diana. Do you want to see my goats?”

  “I most certainly do,” she said with a smile. “You remember Uncle Simon?”

  “Yes, but he wasn’t my uncle then.” He wasn’t really his uncle now, nor was Diana his aunt, but those seemed the best titles for him to use, particularly since Diana felt like a sister to Verity. Beau bowed formally to Simon and said, “How do you do,” in a tone deeper than his usual voice.

  Verity couldn’t withhold a giggle at her son’s performance. It was quite good, and, if the sparkle in his green eyes was any indication, he knew it.

  “Well done, Beau,” Rufus said with a wink. It seemed he’d been coaching their son. While it didn’t surprise her given the interest he’d taken in Beau, it was heartwarming nonetheless.

  “Thank you, Papa,” Beau said with pride. “Now you all need to come meet my goats. I wanted to call the baby Sailor because Papa was a sailor, but since Whist gave me another baby goat, I think I should maybe name the first one after him instead.”

  “Why not call the goat Whist gave you after him?” Simon asked.

  “She’s a girl!” Beau said with a giggle. “Besides she already has a name—Agnes.”

  “I see,” Simon said thoughtfully. “You’d like us to help you decide between Sailor and, Whist is it?”

  Beau nodded.

  “We’ll need to meet this fine animal before we can decide. Lead the way, my boy.”

  They all trailed Beau, who had them neatly in hand, just the way he liked them. For the first time in her life, Verity was aware of the feeling of family around her. And that didn’t mean just people who were related to her by blood or marriage. It was far more than that. It was a feeling of belonging, of connection. Surely that was due to having Beau, Diana, and Simon here together.

  Then her gaze fell on Rufus’s back. He walked in front of her next to their son. Their son. Whether she liked it or not, Rufus was her family, and because of Beau, they were irrevocably linked.

  While she might not like it, she realized she no longer hated it. Which was a terrifying prospect.

  After a quarter hour of visiting with the goats, the Duchess of Romsey turned to her cousin with a weary smile. “Verity, would you mind if I went in for a respite before dinner?”

  Verity! At last he knew her name!

  Kit tried not to laugh at the irony since her name meant truth. It was an amusing antithesis to the utter lie of Kit’s entire presence there. But also sobering.

  It was also a very fitting name because to him, truth meant beauty, and as far and wide as he’d traveled, he’d never met a woman more beautiful than her.

  Verity.

  He might just repeat her name over and over in his mind for the rest of the day. Hell, he was smitten with her. And who could blame him? Beyond her beauty, she was an excellent mother, a respected duchess, and possessed a wealth of intelligence he’d been pleased to tap. She’d proven herself an accomplished assistant with the auditing project, accompanying him to visit tenants on days when Whist had needed to rest. She was precisely the kind of helpmate a man could hope for.

  If he were looking for a helpmate, which Kit never had.

  Privateers rarely married because few women wanted to join them on the sea. And the alternative meant a marriage of living separately for the most part, which didn’t appeal to Kit at all. Wait, something about marriage appealed to him? He’d never given it a second thought.

  Lately, he’d given it third and fourth thoughts. How could he not when he was, albeit falsely, in possession of a wife?

  Possession… That word stirred something inside him, something that intensified when he looked at Verity. He didn’t think he could possess her, nor would he want to. No. He rather preferred the idea of her possessing him. He’d been alone and untethered for so long that the idea of someone wanting him and taking him, and not just in a purely sexual sense, was extraordinarily appealing. Christ, he had to stop thinking about this, because the sexual sense was beginning to take over, and if he wasn’t careful, he was going to grow hard.

  As he’d done the past several nights thinking of her. Verity.

  Verity.

  In the midst of his daydreams, he’d completely missed the ensuing conversation, but somehow, the women were headed toward the house with Beau, and Thomas and Whist were taking their leave.

  “See you tomorrow,” Whist said with a wave.

  Kit waved back. “Yes, tomorrow.”

  “And I’ll be here Wednesday,” Thomas said with a nod.

  “I look forward to it.” Kit watched them turn and walk toward their cart and recalled watching Thomas with Verity earlier. There had seemed to be something between them, but Kit wasn’t entirely certain, and he couldn’t very well ask. How would that go, exactly? Say, if you two are romantically inclined, I’ll be leaving in a few weeks so don’t let me stand in your way.

  So many things about that drove Kit mad. One, he didn’t know when he was leaving and he didn’t really want to contemplate it. Two, he couldn’t say anything like that, of course, not without revealing the depths of his dishonesty. Three, the idea of Verity and Thomas—hell, of Verity and anyone—romantically inclined toward each other made him irritable.

  Yes, he was bloody well smitten, and that was a damn shame. For there was nothing to be done about it.

  “Somet
hing wrong?” Romsey asked, prodding Kit from his jealousy.

  “No, no,” Kit said, shaking his head. “Shall we go in?”

  “Yes, I want to check on Diana. She’s expecting our first child in the fall.” It sounded blithe but wasn’t necessarily something men discussed, especially men who’d just met. But the pride and excitement in the man’s voice were unmistakable. He was thrilled, and he wanted everyone to know it.

  Kit could respect that. And envy it, if he were to be honest. Just as he’d never considered marriage, he’d never thought about fatherhood either. But from the moment Beau had sidled up to him on the settee that first day, he’d been lost. In fact, the thought of leaving made his chest ache and his stomach turn. Never mind Verity and his affection for her, he wasn’t sure he could leave Beau.

  “Congratulations to you,” Kit said, wondering if his voice sounded as thin as it felt. As much as he cared for Beau, the boy didn’t belong to him and never would. And he’d likely never have a son to call his own. Was it selfish of him to want to claim Beau? Especially when the boy was clearly elated to have his father at last?

  Kit went to the gate and held it open for Romsey. Racer made a dash for the opening, but Kit snapped it closed before he could make it through. With a disappointed bleat, Racer rejoined his group. Kit checked the latch to make sure it would hold. He’d built it to be extra strong given Racer’s penchant for breaking free.

  “Seems like you expected him to try to escape,” Romsey observed.

  “Always. But he’s got a good personality.”

  Romsey swung his head to look at Kit in disbelief. “A goat has a personality?”

  “As much as a dog or a cat or a horse.”

  “I suppose that makes sense, although I’m not entirely convinced about cats. They have personalities, but they’re enigmatic as hell.”

  “They can be,” Kit agreed. “Whiskers is quite fun. He even plays fetch with Beau.”

  “Indeed? I’ll need to see that to believe it. That boy has quite a menagerie. Are you sure there’s room for guests?”

  Kit laughed. “For now, but he does seem to collect animals at an alarming rate. He has a very kind and inquisitive heart. He’s learning how to care for the goats. Tomorrow, I’ll show him how to milk one.”

  “You’ll show him?” Romsey asked. “You know how to milk a goat?”

  As they entered the lower courtyard, Kit nodded.

  Romsey narrowed his eyes at him. “And you built that pen and shed.” Whist had told the duke and duchess about that earlier.

  “I did.” Kit was well used to people’s shock, although the tenants no longer demonstrated any surprise. They’d quite accepted him for who he was. Rather, who he was pretending to be. Except that person—at least his character—was really who he was.

  What a bloody tangle.

  “Did you know all that before you disappeared, or did you spend the last six years herding goats?”

  Kit looked over at him, trying to ascertain if he was speaking in jest. He wasn’t entirely sure. “I spent most of the last six and a half years on a boat.”

  “So I heard. I was joking about the goats. I presume you were active in the management of the estate before you went missing.”

  “Actually, I’ve learned about goats since returning. Beau took an interest in them.” Kit didn’t feel the need to defend himself, but neither did he want Romsey asking awkward questions. Best to allay the man’s curiosity, and Kit hoped that was all this was, straightaway.

  “Well, it’s damned impressive,” Romsey said as they walked up the steps toward the upper gatehouse. “I imagine it’s been strange being back.”

  Strange, challenging, wonderful. “It’s been an adjustment.”

  “Were you surprised to come home to find a son? Diana said you disappeared before you knew Verity was expecting.”

  Kit shot a quick look toward Romsey. He called her Verity? Kit wanted to call her Verity. Now that he knew her name. But he wouldn’t ask. The parameters of their relationship were clear, and such familiarity wasn’t part of it. Instead, he focused his mind on the relationship that had no limits and that had completely overwhelmed him in ways he’d never expected. “Coming home to Beau has been a true joy,” he said, meaning every word.

  Romsey peered over at him as they moved through the upper gate. “Is it painful to think of the years you missed with him? I imagine it would be.” He said this with an understanding that led Kit to believe this man knew something of loss.

  “I try not to think about that,” Kit said. In truth, what he tried not to think of were the years he’d miss after he was gone. In scarcely a fortnight, he’d become rather attached to the boy, and he wasn’t ready to contemplate leaving him.

  “Probably for the best. It doesn’t help to focus on the past. Still, six and a half years is a long time. Verity says you were pressed onto a ship. How did you manage to survive that? Not just survive it, but come out seemingly the better for it.”

  He already knew that Kit’s behavior was different? Had Verity written to them about him or told them in the stable yard? Kit had watched them talking, aware they were discussing him from the way they kept looking in his direction.

  Kit resisted the urge to ignore Romsey’s question as they walked through the upper courtyard to the back of the castle. “You just…survive.”

  They paused in front of the wide door that led into the King’s Hall, and Romsey nodded in understanding. “You do. And maybe, if you’re lucky, you come out better on the other side. Seems as though that’s what happened to you. That’s certainly what happened to me—and I credit Diana for that.”

  Kit seized on the opportunity to shift the focus of their conversation. “What did you survive?” He opened the door and gestured for Romsey to precede him.

  Romsey grimaced. “It’s a fairly depressing topic. I was married before, and she died. It was a tragedy, and I feared I would never recover.”

  “Yet you did.” Kit had also noted how close Romsey stood to his wife, and how he touched her with care and frequency and…love.

  “Because of Diana. She saved me in every way a person can be saved.” He inclined his head toward Kit. “I can only imagine what holes may linger in your soul after such a harrowing experience, but perhaps Verity will help patch them up. And now I must go check on my wife. See you at dinner.” With a nod, he turned and climbed the stairs.

  Kit intended to go up as well but didn’t immediately follow. Romsey’s words cloaked him in discomfort. Holes in his soul? Harrowing experience? He’d chosen to get on a ship at the age of fifteen, and he’d never looked back. Certainly he’d missed his father from time to time, but the life he’d led had been exciting and rewarding, if a bit lonely. Any holes he might possess came from the time before he’d gone to sea, left by the death of his mother, the pervasive sadness of his father, and the truth of who he really was—as well as who he could never be.

  Except he was precisely that person now. At least for a short time.

  Or forever.

  If he wanted it.

  No, he couldn’t continue this ruse indefinitely. Someone was bound to discover the truth. He’d need to be long gone before that happened.

  Chapter 8

  “You are a very tired boy, I think,” Verity said as she perched on the edge of Beau’s bed that night.

  He yawned widely even as he tried to shake his head. “I’m not that tired, Mama. Papa is going to read Robinson Crusoe.” Despite his obvious exhaustion, his eyes were alight with excitement.

  “I didn’t realize we had that book.” The collection of books in the library downstairs didn’t include many novels, and the ones that Verity had procured over the past few years were in her study.

  “We didn’t. Papa told me about it last week, and the copy he ordered arrived today.”

  “Indeed it did,” Rufus said, mildly startling Verity as he came into Beau’s room.

  “He’s awfully tired,” she said, looking up at R
ufus. “Perhaps you should postpone this to tomorrow.”

  “No, Mama! I can listen with my eyes closed if I must.”

  “We’ll just read a half chapter.” Rufus eyed her carefully. “If it’s all right with you.” He looked down at Beau nestled beneath his covers. “Remember that we always listen to your mother.”

  Beau exhaled. “Yes, Papa.” His expression didn’t seem to agree.

  Verity patted her son’s chest and let her hand lie on him for a moment. “I see nothing wrong with you listening, and if you fall asleep, your father will simply have to reread it tomorrow.”

  With a grin toward his father, Beau said, “He won’t mind. It’s his favorite story!”

  Verity glanced at Rufus. “Is it really? I’d no idea.” She didn’t expect him to respond, and he didn’t. While he’d demonstrated kindness and charm, he was often closemouthed so that he seemed even more of a mystery to her. He wasn’t the man she remembered, and she found herself wanting to know just who he was.

  She leaned over and kissed Beau’s cheek. “Sleep well, my sweet boy.”

  He kissed her cheek and squeezed his arms around her neck. “Sleep well, Mama.”

  She stood and moved past Rufus with a murmured “Good night.”

  He inclined his head and responded in kind, his deep voice sliding over her like the drape of a silken chemise. She went to the door and turned before leaving. Rufus had sat next to Beau with his back propped against the headboard of the bed. He opened the book and began to read. She lingered a moment, allowing the rich baritone of his voice to lull her into a sense of warmth and peace and…rightness.

  With a start, she pushed away from the door and went into the corridor. Before she could turn toward her chamber, she saw Diana come around the corner toward her. They’d planned to meet in Verity’s study tonight to talk in private.

  Verity waited while Diana traversed the length of the corridor. “I was just saying good night to Beau.”

  Diana glanced into Beau’s room as she passed, and Verity saw her face soften.