A Duke's Wicked Kiss (Entangled Select) (32 page)

“Edward accepts everyone.”

A knotted thread of curiosity begged to be unwound. “Is he one of you?”

Trent lifted a brow. “One of me?”

“A spy.”

A wisp of a smile crossed his lips. “No, Edward is not a spy. He is…well, he’s hardly spy material.”

“Does he know that you are one? That his brothers were?”

Trent shook his head. “He knows me from our Cambridge days, but he wasn’t aware I was a member of the Queen’s Foreign Service or that I had recruited his brothers. On occasion, I accompanied all of them to Ravenswood Park on holiday.”

“But Edward was in Delhi for a time. Didn’t he recognize you as Tanush?”

“No. India came several years later. To him, I was merely one of many guards who came and went. He never so much as made eye contact with me. Why would he when he had nothing to do with running things? I was as good as invisible to him.”

Jeremy turned and with a blank face studied Trent. Was that a spark of life passing through the boy’s eyes? Could it be because he had the privilege of knowing Trent to be a spy right under Edward’s nose, while Edward, a grown man, did not? She suspected this might be so.

She managed a small smile at Jeremy who promptly turned his face to the window. “Is John’s brother a coward, then?”

“No. He’s just…” Trent shrugged and resumed running his fingers along the curtain’s edge. “Edward is simply Edward.”

C
HAPTER
S
EVENTEEN

R
AVENSWOOD
P
ARK—
N
ORTHHAMPTON,
E
NGLAND

Four days later, a hired coach carrying the threesome turned off the narrow road onto a wide, tree-lined lane signaling the entrance to Ravenswood Park. The carriage knocked along endlessly. Raw nerves tingled up and down Suri’s spine. Despite having lingered in a nearby village overnight while Trent sent off a note informing the duchess and Edward that Suri and Jeremy accompanied him, she feared an unwelcome reception.

What would they think of the sudden appearance of strangers? What if they wanted to talk about John? Surely they would. Oh, dear. Tears threatened again. Would they never dry?

She swept imaginary wrinkles from her gray wool traveling dress. Ever silent, Jeremy, his nose pressed against the window, watched the horses in the rolling pastures, their heads bent to the emerald green grass. Suri wondered how many of them might have descended from her father’s herd.
Blast it!
A mere thought of horses and the memory of John kissing her in the stable slapped her in the face. She took in a deep breath and blew it out so hard her cheeks puffed.

“There’s no need to be nervous, Suri.”

She turned her head to find Trent studying her. He’d worn all black today. John’s mother and brother would surely be in black as well. Should she have considered more appropriate mourning clothes? No, gray was right, Trent had assured her. After all, having failed to marry John, she wasn’t family. She raised her chin and tightened her jaw, as if doing so might stifle the terrible hurt the thought had produced. “You haven’t exactly been your usual self, so don’t deny being on edge as well. You’ve said little since our departure at sunrise.”

“For a different reason entirely,” he replied in a voice suddenly laden with heaviness. “While you worry needlessly that you might not be welcome, I must face the fact they’re going to want details from me.” He turned his face to the window. “After all, I’m the one who witnessed Ravenswood’s demise.”

“And in his mother’s eyes, I’ll be the one who loved him last,” she trailed off, the sting of her own words startling her. “If my relationship with John means anything to the duchess, and it well may, she’ll likely seek words in private. As a woman, I know I would.”

Trent turned. Suri saw sorrow in his eyes.

“You’re probably right.” He went back to watching the lush landscape. “Damned insensitive of me. My apologies.”

She smoothed a nervous hand over her skirt again. “Oh, let’s not get at each other, Trent. We may as well admit it—we’re both a bundle of nerves.”

The carriage rounded a bend and there was the home where John had been born and raised. No wonder the estate was called a park—the massive stone mansion rested peacefully amongst tall chestnut trees, their lush, green canopies shading the acreage around the grand structure.

The carriage rolled to a stop in front of a cadre of servants lined up to meet them. A petite woman dressed in black waited on the steps.

The duchess—John’s mother.
Suri bit her bottom lip to cease its quivering. For some reason, she’d expected a tall, willowy woman. She slid John’s ring off her finger and tucked it inside her reticule. The carriage door swung open and Trent stepped out, turned, and offered Suri his hand.

“Your fingers are trembling,” he murmured. “Get ahold of yourself.”

She stared at her feet to hide her words and stepped down. “I’m doing my best.”

Jeremy exited last. Suri took his hand and the three walked forward. As they drew closer, disappointment crept in when nothing in the duchess’s features resembled John. Her hair, although streaked with gray, was the same dark shade as his, but that was the extent of anything similar. So was John the bastard after all? What did it matter since the woman raised him as her own? How the duchess must ache for the two sons who’d been murdered halfway around the world. Had the thought ever crossed her mind when each man left home that she would never set eyes upon him again?

Closer now, Suri caught sight of the duchess’s hands. From a distance, they appeared to be clasped in front of her in a dignified manner. Upon closer inspection, her fingers were knitted together so tightly the skin covering her knuckles had turned white. A tight smile flattened her lips. It struck Suri that, despite this woman’s terrible loss, she still managed to maintain a high degree of refinement.

Dear God, what am I to say to her?

Horrid memories shot through Suri’s mind—of John as he lay dying, his body broken and bloodied, of the evil men gathered around to do him in, of her last glimpse of her beloved before she was dragged off to the sissoo tree.

The world suddenly seemed to tip on its axis.

She stumbled.

Trent’s hand went to the small of her back, and the earth steadied beneath her feet.

“Thank you,” she whispered between her teeth.

“Trent,” the duchess said and stepped forward. Unclasping her hands, she extended one his way as she went. Rising on the balls of her feet, she blew a kiss on each of his cheeks. “Ah, but it is good to see you again. You managed a decent trip,
oui
?”

Oui?
John’s mother was French? No wonder she’d greeted Trent in such a manner. Yet another reminder of how little Suri knew of a man who’d remained in her heart for more than ten years. She faltered on a step. Once again, Trent steadied her.

As if John’s mother realized Suri’s pain, she turned, and not waiting for a proper introduction, removed her hand from Trent’s and clasped Suri’s. She blew a kiss alongside each cheek. “And you are Miss Thurston.”

Except for the French word meaning yes, there was barely an accent to the woman’s soft voice, just enough to add even more allure to an already beautiful lady. Despite her age, she was lovely. Most likely the kind of woman who’d remain so if she lived to be ninety.

“Your Grace,” Suri said and gave a slight bow.

The duchess turned to Jeremy. “Here’s a fine young man.” She smiled, her mouth relaxing. “And a very brave one, so I am told.”

Jeremy dropped his gaze to the tips of his shoes and, with flushed cheeks, shuffled back a step. The duchess shot a quick glance back and forth between Trent and Suri, question in her eyes.

Oh, dear.

Suri slid a protective arm around Jeremy, the cracks in her heart deepening. “Everything is going to be all right, Jeremy.”

The duchess gave Suri a knowing nod. “Indeed, Master Jeremy. Not only are you safe here, you are most welcome for as long as you care to remain with us.”
Us?
Where was Edward? Suri dared not inquire, but she was most anxious to meet him. If nothing else, to glimpse someone who might resemble John. Oh, the sorrow she heaped upon herself nursing such worthless thoughts.

“Come, Miss Thurston,” the duchess said. “Allow me to show you to your room before tea. You could likely use a bit of privacy.”

Jeremy grabbed Suri’s hand.

The duchess smiled down at him again. “You may accompany us as well, Master Jeremy. We’ve made room for you in your aunt’s chamber.” She looked to Trent. “Your quarters are the same as always, but Eades will guide you in any case.”

Suri, with Jeremy in tow and Trent trailing behind, followed the duchess into a large and airy foyer paneled entirely in a light-colored wood with windows stacked the full two stories. Light streamed in and banked against a wide, carpeted stairway that rose to the second floor and broke off in either direction. Had John and his brothers ever slid down those long, curved banisters the way George had done as a child? Her heart pinched. Quickly, she set aside the thought and went about perusing her surroundings. Above her head hung the most magnificent chandelier she had ever encountered. What must the rest of John’s home look like since the entry alone made Bridgeford Hall seem miniscule?

“Where’s Edward?” Trent asked point-blank.

Suri stiffened at his blunt question. So much for protocol and manners.

A shadow flickered across the duchess’s face. “He…he’s gone off to the hunting lodge. Hopefully he’ll return in time for dinner.”

An odd look passed between Trent and the duchess.

He arched a brow. “I’m well aware of the lodge’s location. I’ll find him if he doesn’t show soon enough.” With that, Trent gave a nod toward the man called Eades and climbed the stairs behind him.

For a moment, the duchess studied Trent’s back, but then she turned to Suri and the veil of trepidation evaporated. “Come along,” she said. “I’ve put you in my old chambers. I prefer another room now that the boys’ father is gone.”

Suri was to have the duchess’s chambers? Likely next to the duke’s suite. Which would have been John’s had he returned. Heavens, could her heart take much more abuse today? She faltered once again on the stairs.

“Oh, dear,” the duchess said. “You must be quite fatigued. Here you are, down the hall a bit.”

They entered a large and sunny room with double doors flung open to expose a deep balcony. Pink cabbage roses against an ivory background papered the walls. Velvet drapes, the color of spring grass, hung at the windows. A silk counterpane in the same shade of green covered the carved French bed while an Aubusson in pale pink, beige, and green decked the floor. Not exactly Suri’s taste, but the room felt comfortable. She spied a narrow bed positioned near hers, and a sense of relief washed away some of her unease.

“It will do until Jeremy is comfortable in his own room across the corridor,” the duchess said. She turned toward the balcony. “There’s a lovely view of the gardens from here. Come, have a look.”

Could Suri be mistaken or was the duchess’s well-polished demeanor beginning to fray around the edges? A sense of dread filled Suri again. Surely, the woman wouldn’t wish to speak of John so soon after Suri’s arrival. She followed the duchess onto the balcony with Jeremy tagging close behind.

A pensive look crossed the duchess’s face. “John and his brothers used to play in these gardens the whole day long. And later, in their exuberant youth, they would race around the rolling hills on horseback, as if the devil had given them chase.”

Suri would have liked to have seen that. An ache leaked right out of her bones and tore another hole in her tattered heart

I will never set eyes on him again.

Oh, dear God, she had to collect herself. Had to say or do something before she burst into tears. Not only was there Jeremy to consider, but the duchess, as well. She swallowed hard and gathered her composure around her like a well-worn cloak. “How lovely and peaceful. I missed the countryside something fierce while in India.”

The duchess offered her a small nod. “I am fairly certain I would miss it as well.”

More thoughts of John tumbled into Suri’s mind. Had he and his brothers chased one another up and down the corridors until they’d caught the dickens for their tomfoolery? How Suri wished she were alone so she could flop on the bed and weep. Struggling to find something—anything to make light conversation, she glanced at the duchess. Her hands were clasped tightly together again and her knuckles were white once more.

What a miserable situation this had to be for her.

“I…forgive me if I am out of place for saying this, Your Grace, but I know how terribly hard this must be on you to have Jeremy and me here. I am so sorry to infringe on your graciousness like this—”

“My dear.” The duchess turned and grasped Suri’s hands, squeezing them so hard Suri nearly winced. “I am so very grateful for your arrival.” Her eyes moistened, but with a mere blink, they were dry again. “You and Trent are all I have left of my son. There are things I need to know about him—about his last days.”

Suri crumbled inside.
Oh, don’t, please.
No details.
Not yet, anyway.
Gently, she pulled her hands away and turned from the duchess, fighting a sob. “John was a remarkable man, Your Grace. There was none better. You’d have been so very proud of him and what he gave to his country.”

“You cared very much for him,” the duchess said.

Every muscle in Suri’s body tensed. She turned to the duchess. “Yes, Your Grace, I did. I still do.”

“Of course.” The duchess blinked a few times, straightened her spine, and her demeanor fell back into proper place like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. She shot a glance Jeremy’s way and back to Suri. “There’ll be time enough for the two of us to chat privately.”

Relief swept through Suri and her heart resumed a normal beat. “Indeed, Your Grace.”

The duchess turned her attention to Jeremy, her spine straight and her chin at an aristocratic angle once more. “There are twin colts in our stable and something else in this house that is sure to amaze you.”