The Duke Identity: Game of Dukes, Book 1

by Grace Callaway

  “I have no wish for a docile wife.” Ransom cocked a brow. “At least not in bed.”

  His insinuation turned her insides cold. This was all wrong. She couldn’t marry this man.

  Now that she was thinking more clearly, she could see her options. She would find another way to rescue her grandfather. She and Mama would put their heads together; the House of Black looked after its own. She didn’t need the help of Ransom—or any man.

  I need to be rid of this blighter. To get out of here. The easiest way to accomplish her goals was to have him call off the wedding.

  “On the topic of marriage,” she said boldly, “you may wish to know that I am not a virgin.”

  She blocked out the memories of how she’d lost her innocence. All that mattered was dissuading Ransom from marrying her. Everyone knew that men valued purity in their wives.

  “Another trait we have in common.” He forked a morsel of fowl.

  “That’s it?” she burst out. “Don’t you even care that I’ve shared a bed with another man?”

  “As long as you don’t come to me encumbered.” He sliced a spear of asparagus into equal lengths. “Even then, I could always pass the brat off as my own.”

  What kind of man was this?

  She shot to her feet. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m not marrying you.”

  He rose, depositing his napkin on the table. “To avoid a tedious scene, let me make myself clear.” Although his tone was mild, his features were hard. “This is not a trip to the modiste; you cannot change your mind about this gown or that. We are getting married on the morrow. The experience can be pleasant—or less so. Either way, it is happening.”

  “You cannot keep me here,” she bit out. “That’s kidnapping.”

  Ransom sighed. When he spoke, it wasn’t to her but the footman. “Escort the lady upstairs. And stay by her chamber. We wouldn’t want her to get lost before the wedding.”

  35

  Harry vaulted over the back gate, landing in the dark garden behind Ransom’s townhouse.

  Ambrose and Strathaven landed beside him.

  The three rows of windows at the back of the house were dark. Taking this as a good sign, Harry sprinted to the kitchen door, the other two following him. Finding it locked, he took out his picks and crouched, ready to get to work.

  “Hold up, lad,” Ambrose whispered. “That might not be necessary.”

  He frowned up at his brother. “Pardon?”

  Ambrose moved aside, pointing upward.

  With his brother no longer blocking his view, Harry saw that a window on the second floor had opened. A rope made up of knotted bedsheets dangled out of the opening. As Harry watched, a small figure clad in a voluminous nightgown climbed over the sill and began the precarious descent from some twenty-five feet off the ground.

  Holy hell, I’m going to kill her for risking her neck that way…if she doesn’t kill herself first.

  His heart hammering, he ran over, ready to catch her. He wanted to call out, tell her to hold on tight, but he was afraid to startle her. To break her critical concentration.

  She heard him coming, nonetheless. Her head whipped in his direction, and her makeshift rope swung with a momentum that made him break out in a cold sweat. Fear seized his insides.

  “What in blazes are you doing here?” she hissed. “Go away.”

  “Christ, Tessa, don’t let go.”

  “Of course I’m not going to let go.” She sounded supremely annoyed, but at least she continued her descent, fist over small fist, each movement getting her closer to safety.

  It seemed to take forever, but at last she was close enough for him to catch her.

  “Let go, love,” he called, “I’ve got you.”

  She ignored him, climbed down the last few feet, and landed nimbly. When she made to walk past him, he moved into her path.

  “I thought I told you to stay away,” she said, her hands fisting on her hips.

  Her eyes flashed at him. Her loose, wild curls frothed around her face.

  God, she was beautiful. She was everything.

  “I’m sorry,” he said urgently. “Sorry I lied to you. It’s true that the police sent me to investigate Black; they thought he was responsible for the destruction of The Gilded Pearl. But once I informed my superior that Black wasn’t responsible, the goal of my mission became to stop the hellfire. I was afraid to tell you the truth because I wanted to stay by your side. To protect you.”

  “I don’t need your, or any man’s, protection,” she shot back.

  She was probably right. “You are terrifyingly resourceful, it’s true. So maybe I was wrong: you don’t need me. But I need you.”

  Was it a trick of the moonlight or did her face soften a little?

  “You can go to blooming hell,” she said succinctly.

  Trick of the light, then.

  “I have news about your grandfather,” he said in a rush. “Before we left for Chudleigh Crest, I told Doolittle my true identity and asked him to contact Ambrose, to ask my brother to help your grandfather. But before Doolittle left Nightingale’s that night, he saw Black and Todd being taken by O’Toole. He followed them: O’Toole is holding your kin hostage at his flash house in Blue Gate Fields. Doolittle informed Ambrose, whose men have been monitoring the place for the past two days. We have a plan for rescuing your family.”

  Emotions chased across Tessa’s face: hope and fear. Then she lifted her chin. “My thanks for the information, Kent. Now remove yourself from my path.”

  There was nothing for it. He had to show her how he felt.

  He got down on one knee. Took hold of her hand.

  She tried to pull free. “What in blazes are you doing? Get up.”

  “When it comes to feelings, I’m an idiot. I’m not good at expressing or even understanding them, but I know this: I love you, Tessa Todd,” he declared. “From the start, you’ve captivated me, and I’m overcome by you. By everything about you. Your spirit, beauty, courage, and…”

  Swift Nick poked his head out from her hair and hissed.

  “…and even your damned ferret,” Harry forged on. “I thought I was in love once, but that was a shadow of what I feel for you. You make me laugh, keep me on my toes, and drive me mad with desire—sometimes all at once. It’s as if I’ve been trapped in a tunnel this whole time, and you…you’re the light at the end of it. You give me direction, purpose, and I…I need you, Tessa.”

  He sounded like a fool, wasn’t making any sense, but he didn’t know how else to convey the vastness of what he felt for her. She still said nothing. Just looked at him, wide-eyed.

  He drew a breath. “And I realized something else too. I thought by not telling you the truth, I was protecting you, but really I was protecting myself. I was afraid to love you, to open myself to that kind of pain. It…it hurt like hell losing my mama. And the business with Celeste reinforced that exposing myself could only lead to disaster. But not exposing my heart led to the true disaster: I lost you. The woman I love, the only one I’ll ever love.”

  When she remained silent, he said desperately, “Say something, sprite. Please.”

  “What happened to your face?”

  The slight curve to her lips made his throat swell with relief.

  “I had a disagreement with Ransom’s men,” he said hoarsely. “They wanted to separate me from the woman I love. I wouldn’t go down without a fight.”

  “Well, win next time, will you? That shiner looks terrible.” She huffed. “You can get up now.”

  He surged to his feet, hardly daring to believe. “Am I…am I forgiven?”

  “Yes.” She narrowed her eyes, jabbed a finger at him. “But you’re still on my List of Retribution.”

  Joy, relief, and love—so much bloody love—poured through him.

  “It would be my honor to be on your list. Just as long as I’m in your life,” he said tenderly.

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her with everything he felt.

&n
bsp; And, Praise God, she kissed him back.

  He felt a tap on the shoulder.

  He released Tessa’s mouth but kept his arms around her when he turned.

  “Much as I hate to interfere,” Ambrose said, “I suggest you postpone the reunion until we get out of here.” He paused, smiling faintly. “A pleasure to see you again, Miss Todd.”

  “You as well, Mr. Kent,” she said with an adorable blush.

  Harry shrugged off his jacket, placing it over her shoulders. “Let’s get going—”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” the Duke of Ranelagh and Somerville said.

  * * *

  Oh, for heaven’s sake.

  Seeing Harry face off with Ransom, the former backed up by his brother and brother-in-law, the latter by a team of footmen, Tessa lost her patience.

  “You’re not really going to fight, are you?” she said.

  “Damn right, I am,” Harry snarled. “I’m going to pummel this kidnapping bastard!”

  “I didn’t kidnap her. She made me a bloody promise,” Ransom returned.

  “I’ve changed my mind. Live with it.” She crossed her arms, glowered at the duke. “If you don’t, you’re bringing a world of trouble onto your head.”

  “I’m no stranger to trouble,” Ransom scoffed.

  “Not this kind of trouble. When I tell my grandfather that you forced me into marriage, what do you think he’ll do?”

  Uncertainty flickered on the duke’s face before it hardened again. “He wants a title in the family. He’ll give me your dowry as agreed upon.”

  “Not if I tell him you coerced me,” she said with deliberate emphasis.

  Harry growled in the background.

  “Devil take it, I didn’t touch you.” Ransom sounded less confident now.

  “One time, a man looked at me with disrespect, and do you know what happened to him?”

  The duke hesitated. “What?”

  She widened her eyes. “No one knows. He was never seen again.”

  Ransom’s eyes darted as he made the calculation…and came to the expected conclusion.

  He shrugged. “I suppose it is the lady’s prerogative to change her mind, after all.”

  “Thank you for understanding, Your Grace,” she said crisply.

  “You didn’t leave me much choice.”

  “I’m annoying that way. You see the trouble I saved you from?”

  He studied her. Strangely, his mouth tipped up at the corners.

  “Some kinds of trouble would probably be worth it,” he murmured. “If I were a different sort of man.”

  He turned to leave.

  “Not so bloody fast.” This came from Harry.

  She placed a hand on her lover’s bulging bicep. “Let him go.” When he stared stonily after the retreating duke, she said, “Please, darling?”

  Slowly, Harry’s hands uncurled. In the next heartbeat, he swept her into his arms.

  He said, “Anything you want, sprite.”

  36

  Soon thereafter, Tessa found herself in the Duchess of Strathaven’s sitting room. She was surrounded by Harry’s four sisters: Emma, Thea, Violet, and Polly. Rosie, Ambrose Kent’s beautiful blonde daughter, who was about the same age as Polly, was also present. Apparently, Emma had written her sisters about Harry’s troubles, and they’d all dropped everything to come to Town.

  The love between the siblings glowed as brightly as the fire in the hearth. What was more, they had welcomed Tessa into their warm circle, keeping her company while the men went to ascertain Mavis’ safety with the Garritys. Tessa had wanted to go too, but, given the lateness of the hour, Emma had insisted that she stay. In truth, she was tired, and it was no hardship chatting and sharing a snack with the ladies.

  “How very brave of you to stand up to Ransom,” Emma was saying now.

  “It was nothing.” Tessa idly stroked Swift Nick, who was snoring on the cushion beside her.

  “You’re far too modest,” Rosie declared.

  “From the way Harry told it,” Polly said, her aqua eyes shining, “you were a true heroine.”

  “And not only for the way you stood up to the duke.”

  This came from Violet, Viscountess Carlisle, the sister closest to Harry in age. She was a tall, pretty brunette with caramel-colored eyes and a tomboyish quality that Tessa instantly liked. She was also obviously enceinte.

  Violet crammed an entire cake into her mouth. She swallowed before saying, “Harry told me you climbed down from the window using a rope of bedsheets. Crumpets, that’s ingenious. How I would have liked to have seen that!”

  “Vi once wanted to be an acrobat,” Emma said dryly.

  “Carlisle doesn’t mind that I’m unconventional.” Vi’s grin was that of a woman who knows her husband loves her for exactly who she is.

  In fact, all of the ladies had that special glow.

  “Our brother can’t stop singing your praises, Tessa,” Thea, the Marchioness of Tremont, said with a gentle smile. She was a quiet beauty with golden brown hair. “It’s not like him at all.”

  “What isn’t?” Tessa said curiously.

  “How open he’s being about his feelings,” Em replied. “Our dear Harry is a genius, except when it comes to matters of the heart.”

  “When it comes to feelings, he’s a clam.” Vi polished off a plate of sandwiches.

  Emma raised her brows. “Shall I ring for more refreshments?”

  “Might as well,” Vi said. “I am eating for two, after all.”

  Privately, Tessa thought the other was eating enough for six or seven.

  “When he got entangled with that De Witt chit,” Vi went on, “he didn’t say a word to us. Just brooded and looked miserable. Next thing we knew, he was embroiled in some scandal at Cambridge, got tossed out, and ran off to become a navvy. Then he returns to London, again not telling us anything, and enlists with the police force, of all things!”

  Since learning of Harry’s true identity, an ember had embedded itself beneath Tessa’s breastbone, and now it smoldered to life. After hearing Harry’s heartfelt confession, she was no longer angry at him. She understood why he’d lied to her, knew he’d been trying to do the right thing. She believed that he loved her; how could she not, after his passionate speech and all his efforts to protect her and her family? Harry being the man he was, she knew that he would also do the honorable thing by her.

  What she didn’t know was whether she had the strength to do the right thing by him.

  “Why did he choose to join the police, do you think?” she forced herself to ask.

  “Serving justice runs in our family,” Emma said. “Before Ambrose opened his private enquiry business, he worked for the Thames River Police for many years.”

  Not only was Harry a policeman, he came from a family of them? She, on the other hand, was descended from a long line of underworld cutthroats. The smoldering turned into a flame.

  We come from two different worlds. How will we build a life together?

  “After the scandal at Cambridge,” Thea said quietly, “I think Harry felt a need to redeem his name. To him, joining the police might have been a way to regain his honor, although, in truth, he never lost it.”

  Tessa agreed. Honor meant everything to a man like Harry. If he married her, how could he continue working as a Peeler? If she married him, would she have to give up her dream of serving her grandfather, of making the underworld a better place?

  She thought of her grandparents’ story and, for the first time, wondered whether it was fair to ask the person one loved to sacrifice everything. She and Harry loved each other, yes. But what if love wasn’t enough?

  “Now we have Harry back because of you, Tessa,” Polly said. “We have you to thank.”

  As the sisters chimed in their agreement, Tessa forced a smile. She told herself not to worry about the future right now. Her priority was the rescuing of her menfolk. Once they were safe, then she would face other decisions.

  In th
e meantime, she had Harry, had his love, and she would make the most of these precious moments for as long as they lasted.

  The door opened, and her heart thumped at the sight of her beloved. Then she registered that he was alone. She surged to her feet. “Where’s Mama?”

  He came to her, squeezed her shoulder. “She’s fine, sprite, and with Ming at the Garritys’. As it turns out, Garrity is a true ally to your grandfather. After the meeting at Nightingale’s, he and Black apparently met in private and came to an understanding. Although Garrity would not disclose specifics, he indicated that he is just as vested in finding the culprit behind The Gilded Pearl as Black is. He pledged to help Black and to provide safe harbor if needed.”

  “But why isn’t Mama with you?”

  “She’d had a dose of laudanum before bedtime, and Gabby suggested that we let her sleep and bring her over here in the morning.”

  Overwhelmed with relief, Tessa nodded.

  “Morning will be coming soon enough,” Emma said. “We should all get some rest so that we can be fresh when we plan the rescue of Tessa’s kin.”

  * * *

  “Harry?” Tessa’s voice called softly.

  God, he loved hearing her say his name. His real name.

  Closing the door that separated the rooms (and sending silent thanks to his oldest sister for the convenient bedchamber arrangements), Harry went to the bed. Dressed in a robe borrowed from Strathaven, he’d debated whether or not to go to Tessa.

  It was late, she needed her rest, and it wasn’t proper.

  On the other hand, he was madly in love with her.

  He smiled. “Expecting someone else?”

  Tessa was sitting up, a lamp lit by the bedside. “Silly man. I was hoping you would come.”

  Her candor made his chest clench, but it was a sweet kind of pain. The sweetness intensified when she pulled back the coverlet, patted the mattress next to her.

  Hell, he didn’t need to be asked twice.

  Settling against the pillows, he pulled her into his arms. Just held her and absorbed the rightness of doing so. The rightness of Tessa.