by Cora Lee
But Olivia couldn’t sleep. Her heart had settled into a more normal rhythm and her eyelids were heavy, but she could not calm her mind enough to drift off.
“We are safe, Miss Stone,” the duke said softly. “If Nick had seen us, or knew of the carriage switch, he’d already have run us off the road.”
“You’re certain?”
“As I can be.”
“And the innkeeper?”
His Grace sighed. “I don’t know. If he managed to put off my brother, he and his family should remain unharmed. Nick won’t give them a second thought unless he thinks he was lied to.”
Gooseflesh rose on Olivia’s skin and she wrapped her arms around herself, jostling the duke slightly in their close quarters. “Let’s hope he doesn’t suspect.”
“From your lips to God’s ear.”
“Why does your brother want to harm you?” Olivia asked. It was probably an impertinent question, but if she and her friends were in Lord Nicholas’s path, she deserved to know why.
“He wants control of the dukedom,” His Grace answered, slouching down a bit in his seat, solid and warm beside her. “He is my heir until I produce a son. If I die, he obviously takes control of everything I haven’t willed to others. And if I am incapacitated, he can petition for the same power.”
“Like the Prince Regent.”
The duke nodded slowly. “In that same vein, yes.”
“Does he think you incapable?” she asked with curiosity. That was why the Prince of Wales had been appointed Regent, but the Duke of Rhuddlan appeared to be of sound mind.
“He thinks me miserly,” His Grace said, pressing his lips together for a moment. “And the Duke of Cumberland thinks Nick is easy to manipulate.”
Olivia shuddered. “Is it true that His Grace murdered his valet and had an affair with the man’s wife?” It had been several years now, but versions of that story had been printed in newspapers all over the country, including those her father used to read.
Rhuddlan’s tight expression loosened at that. “It wouldn’t be out of character for him, certainly. And he was so secret about his affairs, he could have been carrying on with Mrs. Sellis and no one would have known. As odorous as he is, though, I doubt Cumberland is a murderer.”
“But your brother might be.”
Rhuddlan’s gaze wandered to Artie, who’d rolled over onto his side. “Yes,” he said hoarsely.
“I’m sorry,” she said as gently as she could, laying a hand lightly on his arm. The pain of her own family’s betrayal stabbed though her heart and nearly brought tears to her eyes despite the passing of the years. Those were the people that were supposed to love you best, and that made their perfidy hurt all the more.
His muscles tensed beneath her fingers but then relaxed, and he covered her hand with his for a moment as he cleared his throat. “Thank you.”
There were so many other things Olivia wanted to say, to ask, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead she took a slow, deep breath and leaned back against the squabs. If she were lucky, she might be able to sleep a little more this night.
“May I?” Rhuddlan asked, holding out his arm as if to place it around her.
She hesitated. Part of her wanted nothing more than to cuddle up against him and soak up the solace his arms might provide. But part of her was suspicious of what he might want in return, and what he might do if she refused.
“I only wish to allow you some comfort, Miss Stone,” he said softly. “Whether or not you avail yourself is entirely your decision.”
Her mind held out for just another moment. The duke had kept every promise he’d made her thus far, and had reacted with surprising grace when she broke their kiss earlier in the evening.
“Thank you,” she replied in a half-whisper, laying her head on his shoulder. His arm came loosely around her, his hand coming to rest on her elbow.
“I think we both could use all the comfort we can find,” he replied, resting his cheek against her hair. “Let’s enjoy what we have while we have it.”
Olivia’s lips curved into a small smile. “I think that’s an excellent idea.”
Chapter Five
They traveled for three more days, taking indirect routes, looping around villages whenever possible, and sometimes even doubling back along roads they’d already traversed. His Grace also decided the party would not remain in one place for more than a few hours—long enough to stretch their legs, enjoy a meal, and perhaps wash with a flannel and a basin of clean water.
It was arduous and, in the last day, painful, for Olivia’s backside had begun to ache with overuse. On a normal day, she spent a fair amount of time seated while she sewed or embroidered. But there was always something that needed doing or cleaning in her cottage, and she could easily spend half the day or more on her feet. Bumping along in their borrowed carriage for hours and hours on end was harder on her posterior than she’d anticipated. If not for the opportunity to lean into the duke’s embrace after Mrs. D. and Miss H. had fallen asleep each night, Olivia was sure she’d be walking oddly when they finally reached their destination.
She was also certain the warmth of him, body and heart, kept her from giving in to the fear that threatened to overwhelm her.
But at last they arrived at Teverton Estate, rumpled and exhausted, as the sun was reaching its peak in the gray sky. They were greeted by Lady Teverton, who explained that her husband was away, but was expecting them and would see them at supper if they were rested enough to dine with him.
Olivia heaved a sigh of relief when she and Artie had been shown to their chamber, closing the door behind her and leaning against it.
“He’s not here, Loup,” she said, as the dog began his customary inspection. “That means I have time to figure out what to say to him.”
Artie gave a single, vague tail-wag in response to her voice, but continued sniffing at the furniture.
“What if he remembers the scandal?” she continued, flattening her palms on the door behind her. She’d had to explain how she was related to Teverton in the letter she’d sent, including her parents’ names. “What if he’s already made the connection?”
Then a truly awful though barreled into her mind. “What if he tells Rhuddlan?”
It was true that both she and the duke had signed the paper detailing her life interest in her cottage before they left Wales, and that they’d had both her neighbors and two of his secretaries sign as witnesses. Was that agreement still binding even though her name wasn’t really Olivia Stone? Would he honor it when he discovered her deception?
A knock on her door jolted her from her musings, and she tried to push her fear away. But when she swung open the door, she once again found the duke on the other side, alone.
“Your Grace...” She gripped the doorknob and tried to focus. “W-what can I do for you?”
“I know this is not exactly proper, Miss Stone, but might I speak with you for a moment? There is something important I’d like to discuss with you.”
She swallowed hard, but gestured him inside. “Of course.”
He was still dressed in his Cousin Lucas clothing, plain but good quality fabrics that were exquisitely tailored, if wrinkled from traveling. His black hair was a little long, falling over his forehead like a crow’s wing, contrasting sharply with his grass green eyes.
Olivia closed the door and clasped her hands together, fighting the urge to brush back his hair. “Would you like to sit?”
He shook his head. “I’d rather stand, actually.” His gaze met hers but darted away, and he began pacing. “I have a proposition for you and a confession to make.”
“All right,” she said, hoping he didn’t hear the quaver in her voice. What on earth was he going to say to her? “Which shall we tackle first?”
He stopped and once again met her eyes. “With the confession. You need to know things about me first.”
“What things?”
“Society has branded me a monster,” he said flatly. “You�
��ve likely heard such gossip and rumor in the village.”
Olivia nodded slowly, recalling the awful things people had implied about Rhuddlan when she’d inquired.
“It’s true that my cousin Rhys went missing during a land dispute...with me,” he continued, slowly traversing the room again. “His disappearance has been attributed to me, though I didn’t have anything to do with it. My wife’s death has also been attributed to me.” He paused a moment, pressing his lips together and taking a breath. “She jumped out of a window on the top floor of my home in York, convinced soldiers were coming to kill her. The ‘soldiers’ were a footman and me, trying to keep her safe from herself.”
Olivia dropped into a chair, letting the air whoosh out of her lungs. “How awful,” she choked out.
“It was.” He halted again, and seemed to gather himself. “But there are other things, bad things, that I did do. I have ruined people, Miss Stone—financially, socially, and even physically. I employ ruffians and criminals to do these things, and have sometimes done them myself.”
“Why?”
The word was barely audible, but he answered firmly. “To keep my people and my interests safe. It sounds trite, I know, but that is my purpose as Duke of Rhuddlan.”
She looked up at him from her seat, unsure what to think. “So the ends justify the means.”
“Darkness must sometimes be met with darkness.”
“Is that how you dealt with Sir George?”
His eyes slid away from hers and one dark eyebrow quirked up. “Yes.” When she didn’t reply right away, he continued, “I did what was necessary.”
“What was necessary?” she asked, clutching the edge of her chair. “What did it take to make Sir George leave me alone?”
“I threatened to kill him and hide his body,” Rhuddlan said slowly.
She suppressed a shudder. Olivia had no doubt that it took that much potential violence to deter George Grayson, but the idea of it unsettled her. “And because of your wife and your cousin, he believed you.”
“Yes.”
Would he follow through on his threat if Sir George returned to his old ways? She shook her head slightly, not wanting to know the answer. “Why tell me this?”
“I want you to have all the facts when you consider my proposal.” He sat down in the chair beside her and reached for her hand, clasping it in both of his. “If you are amenable, I think we should be wed.”
“Wh-what?”
“There are only two ways to ensure my brother does not succeed me as duke, and the most pleasant is to father an heir.”
He said it so matter-of-factly that, for a moment, Olivia found herself nodding along. Of course having a legitimate son would solve one of his problems, but getting that son was a rather intimate affair. And birthing him wouldn’t put His Grace in peril.
“And marriage to me would ensure that George Grayson never bothered you again.”
She straightened a little more in her chair. Threatening his life might have put Sir George off his pursuit of Olivia, but it very well could have made him even more determined to have her.
But then, marriage to the Duke of Rhuddlan might also make her a target of Lord Nicholas.
“I-I can’t,” she said, shaking her head. And not just because of his brother—Rhuddlan didn’t know who she really was, what she had done. Even if he wasn’t bothered by her past or her attempt to hide her identity, Society certainly would be. And so would her victim’s family.
“I know it’s a lot to take in,” he said softly, shifting her hand in his grip. “Particularly after my revelation. I simply thought that, since we seem to get along rather well, we might help solve each other’s problems. We might also give each other some pleasure in life, something to look forward to each day. In any case, I’d like you to at least think it over. Wait until you meet your cousin and sort out your situation with him.”
She must have looked confused or overwhelmed—she certainly felt confused and overwhelmed—for he patted her hand and released it. “It would obviously please me if you accepted, but I don’t want you to feel as if I’ve backed you into a corner. Whatever your answer, our agreement regarding your cottage and protection from Grayson stands.”
She nodded dumbly and stood when he stood, watching him cross the chamber and let himself out.
When he’d shut the door behind him, she dropped back into her chair like a sack of rocks falling from the sky. He wanted to marry her?
He wanted to marry her!
And he wanted her to make an informed decision, so he told her about the unsavory ways he sometimes took care of things.
Olivia’s head dropped into her hands. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or howl at the moon when it rose. What in the devil’s name was she going to tell him?
Another knock on her door had her on her feet in a flash.
“Teverton’s come home early,” Mrs. D. said, poking her head in, “and wants to meet you.”
Devil take him! Couldn’t he wait just a few more minutes so Olivia could untangle her thoughts?
“Am I to meet him in the drawing room or his study?”
“The drawing room,” Mrs. D. replied. “We’re all to gather there in a quarter of an hour.”
Olivia felt her whole body tense. Her entire world would come crashing down in just fifteen minutes’ time.
~~~
When Rhuddlan entered the drawing room, nearly everyone was already assembled. Miss Stone’s two neighbors sat with Teverton’s mother, while the viscount himself stood beside his wife, who was staring unhappily at the door.
Rhuddlan reached inside his tailcoat briefly to touch the two letters that had been delivered to Teverton Estate for him from Wales before his arrival. One brought disturbing news, but the other contained the possibility of reinforcements in the battle against Nick. He also surreptitiously checked his pocket watch for the time. If he were to act on the second, more hopeful letter, he would need to make his exit soon. Had Teverton not returned home earlier than scheduled and called his guests to the drawing room, Rhuddlan would likely be riding away down the road already.
He heard the soft rustle of fabric behind him and turned to see Miss Stone hesitating just inside the door, as if she was suddenly taken with the notion to bolt back up to her chamber. Rhuddlan went to her, struck by the change in her appearance compared to the first time she appeared in his study. She was dressed in his housekeeper’s best gown, a frothy sea green frock that Miss Stone must have worked magic on with her needle, for she looked as if she’d belong in any aristocrat’s drawing room as an equal and not at all like his housekeeper on her way to Sunday services.
Though she was still akin to the quivering, fearful woman who’d begged for his help.
“Are you nervous?” Rhuddlan asked quietly as he bowed slightly over her hand, remembering keenly the trepidation he’d felt the first time he attended a gathering as the duke.
“Yes,” she said, nearly stumbling over the word.
“No matter what happens here, our agreement for your cottage and protection from Grayson is binding,” he replied, hoping to reassure her. Perhaps if she was less worried about other things, she would be able to steady herself a bit. “You will always have your home and your safety.”
She blanched, and for a moment he thought she might be sick. But she inhaled slowly, then sighed. “Thank you.”
“Are you ready to meet your cousin?”
“Yes,” she said again, this time with more resolve.
Rhuddlan offered her his arm and led her across the room, giving her a little smile. “Miss Stone, may I present Titus, Lord Teverton.”
His lordship also bowed over her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cousin. I’m only sorry that unfortunate circumstances are what brought you to my attention.”
Lady Teverton snorted. “Why do you think she’s here?” Rhuddlan arched an eyebrow at her, but Lady Teverton ignored him. “You don’t even know if she’s truly your cousin.�
��
Miss Stone gasped and Teverton put a hand to his wife’s arm. “We talked about this,” he said quietly. “Her father is my mother’s fourth cousin. The relationship is distant and it took some doing to verify it, but it’s there.”
“Yes,” Lady Teverton replied, not bothering to match her husband’s more polite volume. “But you said her father was called Arthur Lockwood. Why is His Grace calling her Miss Stone?”
Miss Stone seemed to wilt like a flower left too long in the sun. “I can explain...”
Rhuddlan’s brows drew down over his eyes and his mouth pulled into a frown. Certainly it was out of the ordinary for an unmarried daughter to have a different surname from her father, but there were also plenty of reasonable explanations for such a difference. Why did she look so frightened?
“I’m not really a Stone,” she said, her voice barely audible. “My name is Olivia Lockwood, like my father.”
“Why not simply use his name, then? Where did Stone come from?” Teverton glanced at his mother, who looked as puzzled as he did.
“I– I began using Stone after my mother died,” she said, her eyes darting from Teverton to Mrs. Davies and Miss Hatch, then back again. “I needed to put some, erm, distance between my family and me.”
“Distance?” Lady Teverton asked. “What on earth did your family do that you didn’t want to be associated with?”
If it was possible, Miss Stone—Lockwood?—paled further. Rhuddlan wanted to reach for her, to comfort her, but he also wanted to know what in blazes was going on. It appeared that the woman he’d so recently proposed marriage to had been living under an assumed name and hadn’t told him a thing about it.
“It wasn’t what they did, but more what I became known for.” Miss Stone looked over at Mrs. Davies and Miss Hatch again, her whole expression mournful, as if she’d killed someone dear to them.
“What you became known for?” Teverton asked, appearing to be as confused as Rhuddlan was.
It was Lady Teverton who made the connection. Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a shape somewhere between an O and a smile. “You’re the Olivia Lockwood who was betrothed to the Earl of Windermere’s heir some years ago, aren’t you?”
