by Darcy Burke
“Descriptive how?”
“They’re meant to describe their personality or their notoriety. I’ve been called the Duke of Ruin since my wife died. It’s a rather long and lurid story, but suffice it to say that I’d earned that nickname until recently. Until I married Diana. My best friend is the Duke of Ice. He’s a bit, er, cold. Or he was until he married the love of his life.”
“I’m sensing a theme here—wives fix everything?”
Simon shouted with laughter. “In our cases, yes.”
Kit instantly thought of Verity, though she wasn’t really his wife. If given the chance, would she be able to fix his woes? And what would those be? He wasn’t in need of fixing as far as he could tell. He was only in need of money and a ship.
Nothing was that simple anymore, however, and he knew it. The moment he’d assumed the mantle of duke, he’d taken on responsibilities he’d be loath to walk away from. The estate. The tenants. Beau. His chest tightened. Verity.
“Back to your question,” Simon said. “I’m not poaching Entwhistle. On the contrary, I wanted to know if he was up to the task or if there was some other reason he’d wanted this position.”
Kit frowned. “What does that mean?”
“I, ah, perhaps I shouldn’t say anything. Forgive me.” Simon increased his speed, but Kit easily came abreast of him again.
“Say what you were going to say.”
“Entwhistle looks at your wife in a certain way.”
“What way is that?” Kit wasn’t obtuse; he wanted his suspicions confirmed.
“A way that I wouldn’t allow him to look at Diana,” Simon said wryly.
The day the goats had come to the castle, Kit had wondered if there might be something between Verity and the steward. She had wanted to hire him rather badly. And yes, he had noticed the way Thomas looked at his wife—at Verity.
“You think he has a tendre for the duchess.”
Simon shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. I’d keep an eye on things, if I were you.” He slid a glance toward Kit. “If it bothers you. If it doesn’t, forget I said anything. Another man’s marriage is none of my business.”
“And yet here you are meddling,” Kit murmured.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I appreciate your confidence.” Yes, it was rather like they were friends. It reminded Kit of the camaraderie he enjoyed aboard ship and found himself missing, only it was slightly different. Men on a ship could come and go. Here, on land, it was easier to maintain relationships. Or so he thought. He couldn’t say since he’d spent half his life on the sea.
“Well then, I may as well meddle,” Simon said. “I know your marriage is in name only at present. Again, my apologies, but Diana and I don’t have secrets.”
“It isn’t much of a secret. We keep separate rooms.” Separate lives, for the most part. If not for Beau, Kit had the sense he could leave at any moment and not be missed.
“I imagine it’s difficult to start back up again after six and a half years away.”
Particularly when you’d been an absolute beast.
Simon winced again. “My apologies. This is really none of my affair. It’s just that I care deeply for Verity. She is my wife’s favorite person—aside from me, I think—and she was a good friend and support to us when we needed one most.”
“She’s a good woman,” Kit said. The finest he’d met.
“You sound as if you’d maybe like to change the circumstances of your marriage.” Simon said this slowly, as if he were testing to see if he might be saying something he should apologize for again.
“As you said, it’s difficult to readjust. We don’t spend much time together outside of estate management or Beau.”
“Perhaps you should.”
It was a simple statement, but so very powerful. It repeated in Kit’s head until it neared a crescendo of clarity. Yes, perhaps he should.
Maybe she’d go to town to look at a spinning mill with him. Or to the Eanam Brewery. Hell, anywhere. Or maybe he should start simple and just find a way to spend time with her here. It wasn’t as if they didn’t share common interests—the estate, Beau. If Kit could let down his guard a bit, he might find they shared even more.
They arrived at the first tenant and conducted their business in under an hour. The second tenant took slightly longer, and the third offered them lunch, which they gratefully accepted.
As they rode back to the castle, Kit definitively stated what he’d known for a while now. “Cuddy was stealing. Every single tenant reports different payment amounts from what the ledgers show.”
“What do you plan to do?”
“I’m not certain. I think he’s still in Blackburn.” One of the grooms had delivered him to a lodging near the edge of town.
“Diana and I had planned to leave day after tomorrow, but if you’d like me to stay, I will.”
“I appreciate that, but it’s not necessary,” Kit said. “I know you need to return to London.”
“Do you plan to go? When word of your return reached the House of Lords, it caused quite a stir.” Simon had mentioned this at dinner on their first night at Beaumont Tower, but Kit had artfully diverted the conversation. He didn’t want to go to London. He wanted to return to the sea before someone discerned the truth. He wasn’t entirely sure what happened to someone who impersonated a duke, nor did he want to find out.
“Not right now, and maybe not during this session.”
“It’s only the end of April. It may go until July, which is bloody hellish. I have to admit, I haven’t fulfilled my duties very well the past few years. I’m trying to make up for it now.” Simon peered over at him as they neared the castle. “They may send you a writ, and then you’ll have to go.”
“Do me a favor and prevent that.”
Simon chuckled. “I will try.”
They rode into the stable yard, where a groom took their mounts, and they returned to the castle. The women had returned, and Simon was clearly anxious to see his wife. He hurried inside while Kit went to see if he could find Thomas.
The man who perhaps coveted his wife.
His not-wife. Verity. The woman Kit wanted.
Did he?
Yes.
The realization hit him hard, and he slowed in the middle of the courtyard on his way to Thomas’s tower. He couldn’t think about that. He needed to focus on Cuddy and keeping himself out of the House of bloody Lords.
Except he was supposedly the Duke of Blackburn, and it was his duty to sit in the damned thing. If they summoned him, he would have to go. Or disappear immediately. And though that was his ultimate goal, the thought pained him more than he could say.
Cuddy. Focus on that thieving blackguard.
What did Kit plan to do? He wanted to know how Verity’s father had come to encourage Cuddy for the position. But since Kit—as Rufus—was supposed to have been here at the time and had presumably done the actual hiring, he had to tread carefully.
She’d said that Cuddy and her father had maintained a close relationship over the past six and a half years. Did that include direct oversight of Cuddy? If it did, surely Verity’s father should have realized the man was embezzling. Except the differences had been small enough to avoid notice but large enough to accumulate quite a sum over time.
Where was that sum now? If Kit recovered it—and he planned to—he’d have enough to get his ship and still restore a portion to the estate. Only, that made him no better than Cuddy. Stealing from a thief was still stealing, especially when Kit knew where the money belonged.
He needed to talk to Verity about Cuddy and about her father’s role. This was the perfect opportunity to take Romsey’s advice. Yes, he’d ask to meet with her and see if he could turn the occasion into something pleasant and engaging for both of them.
Anticipation coursed through him as he strode toward Thomas’s tower until another realization smacked him in the face. If he had a nickname, it would be the Duke of Lies. He was lying to everyone. How
could he possibly hope to build a relationship on that?
Chapter 9
Verity stood outside Beau’s room and listened to Rufus read the end of a chapter of Robinson Crusoe. Every night, she wanted to ask if she could join them, and every night, the words stuck in her throat. The more she found herself relaxing around Rufus and accepting him, the more annoyed she became. He deserved her scorn or at least her apathy.
But it’s to spend time with Beau, she reasoned.
Except she was enchanted by Rufus’s voice. The way he read the story was warm and engaging. It was the voice of a man who’d experienced adventure and would hold you in his thrall if given half the chance. She found herself wanting to give him an entire chance.
But she wouldn’t.
Taking a deep breath, she notched up her chin and bustled into the room. “Are you ready for a kiss good night?”
Rufus snapped the book closed and stood from the bed as Beau giggled. “Do you mean me or Papa?”
A blush started to rise up Verity’s neck, but she worked to keep her embarrassment at bay. “You, silly.”
Beau looked up at her, his green eyes wide and innocent as they flicked over to Rufus and back to her again. “Why don’t you kiss like Auntie Diana and Uncle Simon?”
Absolutely robbed of speech, Verity worked not to gape at her son.
Thankfully, Rufus saved the moment. “Some people don’t like to kiss in front of others.”
Beau’s forehead pleated as he looked between them again. “But you both kiss me all the time in front of other people.”
“It’s, ah, different with children,” Verity said quickly. She leaned down and kissed his head, smoothing his hair down and then pulling his coverlet up to his chin. “Time for dreaming now. Sleep well.”
“I love you, Mama.”
“I love you too, Beau.”
“And I love you, Papa.”
“And I love you.” Hearing Rufus say those words to Beau turned an already tense moment into something that was nearly excruciating. Standing here, they almost felt like a family. She could imagine Rufus kissing her. Worst of all, she could imagine kissing him back.
“Oh, and Mama? You used to say that the picture of Papa on my wall didn’t look very much like him. I think it looks exactly like him.” Beau yawned before closing his eyes and snuggling beneath his covers.
Verity glanced toward the picture and murmured, “I have to agree.” In it, he wore a half smile, and his eyes, though not as green as those of the man in the room, crinkled with amusement. It gave one the sense that the subject of the portrait was happy and charming. So yes, in that respect, it looked far more like the man in the room than the Rufus she recalled.
“Sleep well, Beau.” Rufus blew out the lantern but left the other one burning on the other side of the room because Beau didn’t like to be in the dark. That fact had worried Verity—she’d been afraid Rufus would say he was being a coward.
On the contrary, Rufus had understood completely and said light helped guide people in their dreams. At every turn, he’d surprised and impressed her.
Of course you can imagine kissing him.
She hurried from the room, anxious to put some distance between herself and Rufus.
However, once they were in the corridor, he turned to face her. “I was hoping we might share a nightcap and discuss the estate. We’ve finished our audit, and I’d like to share the results with you as well as ask you about Cuddy.”
She blinked at him, caught in a state of surprise and apprehension. She ought to say no, that they could talk tomorrow, but she was also interested to hear what he had to say.
“I suppose we could do that,” she said slowly.
He gave her a wry smile that was one of his most attractive varieties. Yes, he had many smiles, and she’d grown to like every single one of them. She’d even begun to anticipate what would make him smile—his favorite cheese on toast for breakfast, Whiskers chasing Mr. Cheeks through the courtyard, and pretty much anything Beau did.
“I’d invite you to my office, but I’m afraid I don’t have one,” he said.
“That is a problem, isn’t it? I’m sorry I didn’t think of it before now.”
“It’s quite all right. I was using the tower office since Cuddy’s departure, but now that Thomas is here, I need to find another space.”
“How about the antechamber off the Knight’s Room? That’s seldom used and has a lovely view of the west garden and the hills beyond.”
“Why don’t we go take a look, and we can talk along the way?” He’d neatly maneuvered that, but Verity didn’t feel particularly manipulated. She could refuse him if she wanted and knew he would let her go.
With a nod, she joined him in walking along the corridor. They turned, passing the guest rooms before reaching the drawing room. They crossed the landing at the top of the stairs into the more formal Knight’s Room.
Rufus stopped abruptly. “I forgot to stop for our drinks.” He gave her a sheepish smile that was also one of her favorites. Innocent with a touch of mischief, it reminded her the most of Beau. “What would you prefer? Sherry, perhaps?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“I’ll be but a moment.” He dashed back into the drawing room, and she brushed her palms down her dressing gown, feeling suddenly nervous.
There was no reason to be, she told herself. So they were alone at night. With spirits. After their son had asked them about kissing.
Heat suffused her body, and she feared the blush she’d avoided in Beau’s room was now coloring her cheeks a bright red. She brought her hands to her cheeks and went to the windows, where hopefully cooler air would calm her flesh.
Thankfully, her face felt normal again when he returned and handed her a glass. While the heat was gone, a peculiar tickle remained in her belly.
“You still like whiskey, I see.” She took a sip of sherry, hoping to banish that tickle.
“I developed a taste for rum, but absent that, this will do.”
“I’ve never had rum. What is it like?”
“Thick and rich and a bit sweet. Decadent. There are all kinds, but the best taste just like that. In my opinion. Yours may vary. I’ll have to see if I can procure some.” He picked up a lantern before turning toward the antechamber. “It looks dark in there.”
“We don’t keep it lit or heated, but if you want it as an office, that will change, of course.”
They went into the rectangular room, and he glanced around. “This is a good size. I looked at it when I returned, but I wasn’t seeing it as an office. It’s almost too big for that.” It sounded as if he were trying to cover for not remembering the room—or perhaps he’d never seen it before his arrival.
If he wasn’t really Rufus.
She didn’t want to play this game with herself tonight. All she knew, and all that mattered, was that he wasn’t a monster. Not anymore. No one who cared for a child the way he did could be.
Verity walked toward the inner wall and turned. “You could put a desk here if you want to be close to the hearth. Or at the opposite end if you prefer to have a seating area near the windows. This room is a bit drafty in the winter, so I might choose the former.”
“Then that’s what I’ll do,” he said. “I appreciate your advice.” The room contained two seating areas, one in front of the fireplace and one at the other end of the chamber. “Where will the extra furniture go?”
“We’ll find a place for it, or we can always give it to a tenant, or several tenants, depending on what you don’t want to keep.”
“Do you do that often?” he asked. “Give things to tenants?”
“As much as I can.” She gestured toward a comfortable armchair near one of the windows. “In fact, that chair over there might be a nice gift for Mr. Bricker’s new cottage.”
He lifted the lantern toward that side of the room to better illuminate the space. Then he turned his head and stared at her a moment. “That’s very thoughtful of you, but then I’ve
come to expect nothing less.”
Something seemed to stretch between them, an invisible pull that she fought with all her being. Then he brought his glass to his lips, and the moment began to fade…until she began to focus on his mouth.
Abruptly turning, she went back into the Knight’s Room, where a low fire burned and there was ample illumination.
He set the lantern back down on a table and walked to the settee in front of the hearth. “I’ll build some bookshelves so that I may have a small library.”
“You seem to like books.” She’d seen him reading in the library downstairs several times, and Kirwin had reported that he’d once been found there in the middle of the night, asleep on a settee with a book open facedown on his chest.
“I do. It’s one of the few pastimes you can undertake on a ship. But due to space, you’re often reading the same things over and over. I’m quite thrilled to have variety again.”
“Beau says Robinson Crusoe is your favorite. I never knew that.” She eyed the settee, wondering if he planned to sit there. But of course he wouldn’t sit at all until she did, which meant he could choose to sit by her. She’d take the chair, but he stood between her and it, and doing so would make an already awkward situation fully uncomfortable. Or so she worried.
In the end, she dropped onto the end of the settee, her hip bumping the side and indicating it was as far away as she could sit.
He took the chair, and she instantly relaxed. “I’ve always loved that story,” he said. “I’m sorry we didn’t discuss such things before. I’d like us to now. What’s your favorite book?”
“Oh, I couldn’t name just one,” she said. “I like to read plays. Perhaps because I like to see them and don’t often have a chance to.” Rufus had never taken her to see one, but then they hadn’t been married long enough to do much of anything.
Don’t think about that time. Stay in this moment where he’s not a threat.
“What did your audit find?” She sipped her sherry, then rested the glass on her leg as she held the stem.
“I’m confident Cuddy was stealing, and I’m sorry for it.”
