What the Dashing Duke Deserves (Lords of Happenstance, #3)

by Sandra Sookoo

  “That, I’m afraid, is not good enough.” Crispin moved around the next. He held out a gloved hand. “Come.”

  “Where?” She glanced between his hand and his face before slipping her fingers into his palm. A brief tingling sensation moved up her arm from the point of contact.

  “Somewhere that a piece of furniture doesn’t separate us or remind you of things you believe make you beholden to others.” He tugged her into a standing position and then led her across the room and through a doorway into a storage room behind the library. At an ancient Egyptian coffin black with age-old pitch, he gently pushed her onto it and waited until she’d sat. “I want the real story of how you arrived in Cairo and what the devil you’re doing here.”

  “I don’t know where to start.”

  “At the beginning, if you please.” Without regard to the dust or grit on the worn hardwood floor, Crispin knelt on one knee before her to better look her in the face. “Something is at play here. I can feel it, something beyond you working in the archives or stealing what is an artifact of insignificant value.”

  How could he possibly know that? She’d endeavored to hide her real life in Cairo from everyone. “I...” She searched his eyes but found nothing sinister in those tea-colored depths. No longer could she delay, for he wouldn’t leave her alone until she confessed. With a sigh, she knitted her fingers together in her lap. “I am a King’s agent from London, one of an elite group of men and women hand-picked by the Duke of Rathesborne for delicate missions both foreign and domestic that keep England and her interests safe.” It sounded so stuffy and official when said aloud to someone who didn’t know of the organization.

  And now she’d just betrayed their existence. Why am I such a failure at this?

  “You are a King’s agent?” His eyebrows rose into his hairline.

  “Yes.” The word was a whisper. What did he think of that? “I’ve been a part of the organization for a few years, lured there by the duke’s own daughter, and one of which I spent under an assumed name and identity here in Cairo.”

  “Why?” There was no mistaking the shock in his expression, even in the dim light of the storage room. “What precipitated the need for such strong measures?”

  Juliana dropped her gaze. “I...” She pressed her lips together and then forced out a breath. “I failed at my last mission. Hard and horribly, I’m afraid. So much so that fellow agents were killed and identities of all the players involved in the case were compromised.” She swallowed the ball of tears in her throat as hot shame poured over her. “Directly following the mission, my superior—the Duke of Rathesborne—tore a strip from my hide. Lud, but he was livid.” She shivered as she remembered his face and the words of accusation he’d hurled at her.

  “What happened after that?” Crispin’s quiet voice kept her grounded so she didn’t lose herself to the memories.

  “I was assigned to desk duty in London for six months while he did damage control. No doubt he used the time to consider what to do with me—”

  “—because you wouldn’t give up or consent to being taken out of the field,” he finished for her. A tiny grin curved his lips. “It seems you aren’t a damsel in distress after all. My apologies.”

  “Like I said, it is complicated.” She nodded, stunned that he apparently knew her so well. “I lasted three months in London, and I rather badgered him during that time. That’s when he informed me that he’d put plans into motion for this identity. Two days later, I was given paperwork bearing my new name, a new back story and instructions on how to change my appearance.”

  “Rathesborne sent you to Cairo as punishment.” It wasn’t a question. His eyes flashed in annoyance, at her or the situation?

  “Of sorts. If he thought so, he didn’t say anything.” She clenched her hands together to still their shaking. “However, this is a new assignment, one I’ve been given in an effort to redeem myself as an agent, and...” To her mortification, her chin quivered, and the longer she stared at him, the more she wished her life was different. What must he think of her? “...and convince the duke I’m capable as an agent, and that I can handle myself in the field.”

  “Oh?” A gleam of interest appeared in his eyes. “Tell me.”

  “Why? Merely to assuage your curiosity?” The less he knew, the better, for he’d be gone tomorrow, and she would once more be alone.

  “No.” Slowly, Crispin stood to his full height. He gazed down at her with a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth that she couldn’t stop staring at. “Because I am a King’s agent too.”

  Chapter Five

  If Crispin had hoped to shock her, his statement did the trick.

  “You are a King’s agent.” It wasn’t a question, but her eyes were as round as saucers.

  “Yes.” He couldn’t help his grin, for he was quite proud to actually tell someone that fact.

  “Since when?” Emotions crossed her face as she tried to acclimate to this new truth. “The last time I saw you, you were happily running the pawn shop on Brook Street. Now you tell me you’re a duke and a King’s agent to boot.” She shook her head. “What is happening?”

  “Now you know what it feels like to be set at sixes and sevens by someone you thought you knew.” He chuckled; he couldn’t help it. “How long? For almost a year and a half.” When she still sat in stunned silence, he continued, “I had the exclusive chance to accompany the Earl of Archewyne to France on a mission that had to do with a relic found in my shop—the Lancelot Stone.”

  “And you went?”

  “Of course I did! How could I not, when adventure was in the offing, which is a far cry from what I did at the shop.” Briefly, he shared the highlights of the mission, including the secret tunnels he and Miles had found in the death catacombs beneath Paris. “In the end, I was instrumental in saving the life of the Countess of Archewyne, as well as the life of the Viscount Trewellain.”

  Juliana gawked. Her lips formed a perfect “O” of shock. “That was you?”

  “You’ve heard the story?” Warm pleasure pushed through his chest.

  “Of course. The whole network buzzed about it, plus there were a few newspaper clippings that mentioned the case.” Her eyes twinkled. “In passing, you understand, and without many details of the Lancelot Stone, but every agent knew the story.”

  Imagine that. A hero in The Times. His grin widened. “I must have missed all of that, for after the mission ended, I was swept up into the drama of becoming the Duke of Litton. Then there were other things pertaining to the King’s agents that captured my attention.”

  The months following the mission were still a blur. The Duke of Rathesborne had put forth actions that connected his bloodlines, and since that previous duke had perished without male issue, and the duke’s brother had died as well, an investigation went forward. The only reason his friends had suspected he might be related was his looks and mannerisms matched those of the last Litton duke. After a month or so of strenuous inquiries and questioning and petitioning the king, Crispin was installed as the next duke with the papers and proper pedigree.

  “Did you put up an objection to being duke? Even I, as removed from the ton as I am, know what your predecessor was and what he did and the pain he caused to others.”

  The soft tone of her voice brought him out of his musings, but just for a moment. “I did, of course. The life I’d led as a pawn broker brought a certain amount of contentment to me. Not to mention, during that time, my brother—the viscount—was in the process of dying from a lung ailment. Everything hinged on him, for the Litton title rested on his shoulders, but during those weeks of scrutiny, he passed on, and I was tapped to fill the title.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear about your brother.” When her lips turned down in a frown, he couldn’t keep his gaze from her mouth, wondered how a proper kiss would feel like when she wasn’t trying to make a point. “He was a good sort.”

  “Thank you. Losing him quite put me out to sea, but my wealth of s
isters kept me from a brown study.” Maudlin thoughts whisked from his mind as he thought about them.

  “Remind me. How many do you have?”

  “Four.” He couldn’t help his chuckle. “Four sisters, all younger than me, and what’s more, they all live with me in St. James Square.” His chuckle turned into a laugh, because that was all he could do at this point. “I suddenly found myself responsible for their lives, and frankly, I cannot wait until they’re all wedded and leave me in peace.” Never had he admitted that to anyone, not even Archewyne. “So much chatter those girls get up to, I’m glad to be on this dig, just to hear my thoughts again.”

  “So in addition to being adamant that you make amends for what the previous duke did, you must take care of your sisters.” She shook her head, but her smile never wavered. At least the mirth at his situation had banished the tears from her tale. “I don’t envy you the task.”

  “I aim to do my level best.” Then another thought occurred to him that had his smile rapidly fading. She’d mentioned the Duke of Rathesborne, talked about him as if he were still a part of the King’s agent network. She doesn’t know. Which now made sense why she didn’t seem familiar with Archewyne’s name. He found her gaze. Damn and blast. How to say it so it didn’t seem as such a shock? He didn’t wish to cause her further pain from the situation. “You should know, regarding Rathesborne...”

  “Yes?”

  “He died this past July.” Sadness twinged through his gut. The duke had left a mighty hole within the King’s agents, and it would take some time to move past the grief.

  “What?” Juliana straightened her spine. Alarm shadowed in her expression but didn’t touch her eyes. “I had no idea. We might have butted heads more often than not, but I’m sorry to hear he’s no longer with us. He was the best of us, I’m afraid.”

  “He was.”

  She pleated her skirt with one hand. “No one has been in contact with me since I was sent to Cairo. I’ve been quite isolated.”

  It was his turn to give into shock. “No one? Not even a letter?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “As I said, my mistake was... unforgettable, and Rathesborne was furious, dare I say monstrous about it.”

  “He would have understood, given time. He was always fair.” Even if a fellow agent had perished, every man and woman recognized the risks before they signed on. Rathesborne knew that, so why would he have treated Juliana that much harder? Not even due to her being female, for there were other ladies in the field, and all had fallen into mistakes.

  “Be that as it may, I felt very much punished and exiled.” Her chin trembled in what he was beginning to realize was a tell of her emotions. “I deserved it, deserved everything that has happened to me since.” The delicate tendons of her throat worked with a hard swallow. “Now I’m beginning to doubt I’ll find redemption.”

  His heart went out to her. What she must feel, what she’d gone through... there were no words. “Do you want to tell me about that mission? It won’t change the past, but it might help alleviate the guilt.” In that, she had the experience, for he had yet to be given a solo mission.

  “No. Not now.” Again, she shook her head, and one of her black tresses came loose from its knot to drift about her shoulder. “Perhaps not ever.”

  Fair enough. Crispin was wise enough to let the matter drop. For long moments, they stared at each other in the shadowed interior of the store room. What would happen to her once he left for the dig? Would she once more lose herself in whatever mission she was on in the hopes of righting a wrong where death was involved?

  An impossible task at best.

  Finally, she cleared her throat. “Who is in charge of the King’s agents now?”

  “I’m pleased to say that my chum, Archewyne, has slipped into that role. He was...ah... on scene when Rathesborne died, and at the hand of the earl’s brother I might add.” When her eyes rounded once more, he continued, “It was a bit of a sticky wicket. The earl and his wife had been kidnapped. Went missing for two weeks or so before the fellows surged in once the countess had escaped.” He shrugged. “There is never a dull moment.”

  “From what I saw of him at dinner, he’s a perfect match for the position.”

  Crispin nodded. “He’s a great chap. The dig we’re doing should provide an impressive bit of fun.” He tugged a silver pocket watch from his waistcoat. “Buggar. I’m due to leave for the Valley of the Kings with him in two hours.” As he replaced the fob, he gave her an apologetic smile. “Rotten timing with all of this.” It bothered him to leave her at such a critical juncture. She needed protection, and she still hadn’t explained much of anything, least of all why she stole the relic.

  “Lucky you.” Juliana stood and shook out her rose-colored skirts.

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. “You’re going adventuring with your whole life ahead of you, unmarred by mistakes.” To her credit, she mastered her emotions well, but why the deuce didn’t they reflect in her eyes? Yet another mystery. “Perhaps you’ll find treasure or an untouched tomb. I thought I might discover something amazing too during this mission.”

  Ha, here was the opening he needed. “Which is what, by the way?”

  Her whole demeanor wilted as if she were a flower in the heat. “Find the Staff of Absolute Power, or more commonly known in this area as the Staff of the Gods.”

  Bloody hell.

  A thrill moved down his spine, and his instincts once again flared. “You’d better explain with alacrity.” The veriest hint of the duke rang in the command, for that was the relic suspected of being mentioned on the Hebrew scroll currently in his possession. “How do you know about that staff?”

  Juliana narrowed her eyes. “How do you?” Her posture was rigid, tense, as if she were debating on fleeing from him before too many secrets were exchange.

  What the devil was going on in Cairo? Sobering, he rubbed a hand along his jawline. “Can I trust you?” Archewyne had always advised him not to give away too much information about himself or a mission, but if he technically wasn’t on a mission and if talking about a relic he hunted brought him that much closer to it...

  Despair lined her face before she schooled her features into a blank mask. “If you would have asked Rathesborne, he would have told you no. Quite empathetically.” Her tones almost reverberated with the desolation and guilt she must feel.

  His chest tightened. Don’t be a nodcock, Crispin. Women use tears and emotions all the time to further their agenda. Was Juliana that sort of person? He stared at her, wondering, ready to curse the changes in appearance she’d affected for reasons she’d still not told him. “I’m not asking him. I am asking you.” No matter how horrible a mission had gone, she didn’t deserve to be thrown to the proverbial wolves as it were. Yet he also knew the duke had been fair, if not cunning. Why had he done it?

  The mystery surrounding her deepened.

  “Trust is a fleeting gift. One would I say I abuse it much too often.”

  For long moments, thick silence brewed between them. Juliana had taken to pacing the length of the small storage room, her arms wrapped around her middle. He let her cogitate, for there was much in the offing, and if the relic was what he suspected, there would even be danger ahead. This was no small task, but it might grow into a partnership that could possibly put them on the same side.

  Finally, she came to a stop near his position and nodded. “I would like to think that you can trust me. Lord knows I have no other options, and I’ve been here a whole year without netting results.” Her chin quivered, but she wrestled her emotions under control. How long before she broke completely from the anxiety and stress of being on her own? “Also, I would very much like the chance to redeem myself.”

  He set aside any personal feelings brewing and crossed his arms at his chest. “Then tell me why you’re on this mission. Why the deuce did Rathesborne send you here without proper guidance or preparation?”

  “Haven’t we already decided
it was for punishment?”

  “We mentioned it, not decided.” When she remained bullish and quite unhelpful, he sighed. “Where is the ushabti?”

  “Safe.”

  “Why did you steal it?”

  “It has to do with the mission.”

  Oh, could a woman be any more frustrating? Nothing in his life to date had prepared him for locking horns with an obstinate female—not even living with his sisters, for he could bully them. But nothing would come if he met her with equal obduracy. He relaxed his arms and let them fall to his sides. “Which is what?” The whole situation was so maddening that he gave into a chuckle. “It appears we’ve circled back.”

  “So we have.” She followed his every moment with her gaze. A certain hopeful, expectant expression had come over her face.

  What in the bloody hell did she hope he’d do for her? “Since I cannot divine the future nor can I suddenly read your mind, in order for us to move forward, you will need to provide me the necessary information I seek,” he said in a soft voice. “What exactly is your mission, and what has you so stymied that you’ve worked at it for a year with little to no results?”

  As soon as her expression fell, he silently berated himself. Of course, to her he must sound like Rathesborne. “I apologize, Your Grace, for apparently failing once again in light of what most certainly be your superior knowledge. Being a woman on her own anywhere in this world is difficult enough; being a female agent in exile is beyond frustrating.” She turned abruptly, her skirts flared about her slim ankles.

  Damnation. “Juliana, stop.” He ran after her, catching her at the door and wrapping a hand about her wrist, much like he’d done in the marketplace. “I meant nothing by it.”

  She shook, whether from anger or fear, he couldn’t say. “It’s not your fault.” Not looking at him, she bowed her head. “It’s mine. Everything is, and I’m not quite certain how to fix it.”