The Duke's Men [1] What the Duke Desires (40 page)

“You
love
me?” she said, hardly able to believe that he’d actually said the words.

“Of course I love you. I’m not mad, you know.” He smiled at his little joke, and the
fact that he could joke about it at all warmed her heart. “How could I not love the
woman who refused to marry me because I wouldn’t let her take care of me until the
very end? The woman who nursed my cousin, whose face lights up whenever she gets to
travel . . . who never, ever lies to me.”

She teared up.

He cupped her cheek. “Of course I love you. Do you think I bully viscounts every day?”

She blinked, then eyed him askance.

“All right, so perhaps I can be a bit overbearing at times.” He pulled her into his
arms. “But that’s precisely why you should marry me. Who else but you will be able
to keep me humble?”

She beamed at him. “I do believe you’re right. You need a wife who will remind you
not to be so dukely all the time.” She reached up to deliberately set his cravat slightly
askew. “In light of that, I accept your offer,
mon coeur.
”

“Thank God,” he said, breaking into a broad smile. He caught her mouth in a profoundly
wonderful kiss that had her tingling to her toes and reminded her that he wasn’t always
dukely.

When he was done, he offered her his arm. “Now we’d best get out there and announce
it to the rest of the world.”

“What will you tell them about Victor?”

“That I’ve found a long-lost cousin, the son of my great-uncle. No one ever knew Uncle
Nigel had a part in the kidnapping, so that shouldn’t be too scandalous.”

“No. Not too scandalous,” she agreed. As they walked toward the door, she added, “I
suppose this means the end of any future for me as one of Dom’s ‘men.’ A duchess doing
that sort of work would probably be
very
scandalous.”

“True. Still, think of it not so much as ending that future,” he said blithely, “but
as changing employers. You’d be surprised how much organizing and investigation is
part of running a dukedom. I could really use the help. So I will be very happy to
have you be one of
my
men.” He cast her a side glance. “Except in the bedchamber, of course.”

And as she burst into laughter, they stepped through the doors and out into their
future.

F
OUR MONTHS AFTER
his wedding, Maximilian was comfortably ensconced in his study, with Lisette doing
her usual flitting about being useful, when Victor walked in, dressed in what was
clearly traveling attire.

“Well, I’m off to Edinburgh,” he said.

“Scotland? Whatever for?” Maximilian said.

“Didn’t your wife tell you?” Victor said with a quick glance at Lisette.

She colored. “I . . . um . . . was waiting for the right moment. I thought you weren’t
leaving until tomorrow.”

“I thought so, too,” Victor said. “But Manton got a letter that made the matter more
urgent, so—”

“What has Manton got to do with this?” Maximilian asked. When his wife and his cousin
exchanged glances, he felt a sinking in the pit of his stomach. “Somebody had better
tell me what’s going on right now.”

“Victor is joining the Duke’s Men,” Lisette said baldly.

Maximilian narrowed his gaze on his cousin. Manton’s Investigations had been dubbed
“the Duke’s Men” after the newspapers had run the story about the successful search
for “the duke’s long-lost cousin.” “Why? Don’t I offer you a sufficient allowance?”

Victor tensed. “It is more than sufficient. This has nothing to do with money. I don’t
mean to be ungrateful, cousin, but—”

“Victor is accustomed to a more active sort of life,” Lisette put in. “He spent years
in the army and then aiding various officials with sticky situations. He’s not used
to sitting around doing nothing.”

“Then I’ll find him something to do.” Maximilian stared at the cousin he felt he was
just starting to know. “I’m sure there’s something that needs doing around here.”

“You and Lisette and your massive staff have all of that well in hand.” Victor tugged
at his cravat. “Besides, I’m not . . . well suited to all the balls and dinners and
pretending I give a damn about who appeared at the theater wearing the wrong color
of waistcoat. I can still barely believe I’m cousin to a duke, much less that anyone
cares what sort of boots I wear.”

“It is a lot to take in all at once, I know.” Lisette shot Maximilian a veiled glance.
“And we’ve hardly given you a chance to get used to it, throwing you into English
society with little preparation.”

Maximilian had to bite his tongue.
She’d
managed to handle it quite well. Why couldn’t he? “But Scotland is so far.”

“Manton has a new case up there that promises to be lucrative,” Victor said. “But
since he’s in the middle of a big case of his own, and Tristan has his hands full
with several others, he suggested that I might like to take this one on. And I have . . .
reasons of my own for wanting to have a go at it.”

“Like what?” Maximilian prodded.

Victor closed up. “Nothing to concern you.” Then, before Maximilian could react to
that bald statement, Victor forced a smile. “Besides, it will give me a chance to
think about . . . what I want to do with my future.”

When Maximilian let out a long sigh, Lisette said, “Max . . .”

“I know. You’re both right.” Maximilian rose from behind the desk to stare at his
cousin. “You should be able to live as you please. And I realize that while I was
raised in this life, you weren’t.” He forced a light tone into his voice that he didn’t
feel. “Who’s wearing the wrong color of waistcoat actually interests me.”

“It does not,” Lisette said softly.

As usual, she always knew what he was feeling. At first, it had been a little disconcerting
to have someone about who understood him so well, but that had long since passed,
and now he found it rather exhilarating.

“All right, so that part of my life can be tedious,” he admitted. “But I find managing
the estates for my future heirs very rewarding. I had hoped that in time you would
regard it that way yourself, cousin, so that I could teach you to take over in case—”

“You’ll have plenty of heirs to take over for you, Max,” Victor said dryly. “Judging
from how often the two of you ‘retire’ early, I’ll end up being fifteenth in line
for the dukedom.”

“God forbid,” Lisette muttered. “I like children, but fourteen?”

“The point is,” Victor went on, “you’ll have at least one son, perhaps several, to
pass the dukedom on to. You don’t need me. And I need something more than this.” He
swept his hand to indicate his surroundings. “Or at least something different from
this.”

“I understand,” Maximilian said, though he didn’t entirely. He was so utterly content
with his life that he couldn’t imagine anyone else not being so. “And you won’t be
up there forever, I suppose.”

“I hope not,” Victor retorted. “I understand it’s rather bleak.”

“Depends on the part of Scotland you’re in.” Maximilian smiled. “If you’re going to
be staying in Edinburgh for any length of time, you can use my house there. I’ll send
a letter off right now to have it opened up for you.”

“Thank you. That may prove useful.” Victor glanced at the clock. “Well, then, I’m
off. My coach leaves in an hour or so.”

“Good luck,” Maximilian said.

“Be careful,” Lisette said, and pressed a kiss to Victor’s cheek.

“I’m always careful,” Victor drawled.

It was only after he was out the door that their interchange really registered with
Maximilian. “
Be careful?
Is this a dangerous assignment?”

She gave him a bright smile. “Not too dangerous.”

“Lisette . . .” he said in a warning tone.

“I’m teasing you. As far as I know, there’s no danger involved. And even if there
were, Victor is quite capable of taking care of himself.”

“Holy God,” Maximilian muttered as he dropped into his chair. “Remind me to throttle
your brother the next time I see him.”

She laughed as she came over to stand beside the desk. “I swear, you and Dom are always
threatening to throttle each other, yet I’ve never once seen either of you attempt
it.”

“That’s only because we know you would blister our ears lecturing us afterward. But,
to be fair, your brother has more cause to be angry with me than I with him.”

“He does, indeed. He will never forgive you for turning Manton’s Investigations into
‘the Duke’s Men.’ ”

“It’s not my fault that the newspapers came up with that,” Maximilian grumbled. “I
merely said that I hired the three of you to find my cousin.”

“I know,” she murmured soothingly. “And when he isn’t being annoyed by it, he grudgingly
acknowledges that business increased tenfold after that. So you did him a favor. Even
if he hates to admit it.”

He glanced up at her. “You don’t mind it, do you?”

“I
adore
it. It keeps my brothers from being too full of themselves. Not to mention that it
serves as a constant reminder of how much you love me.” She flashed him the soft smile
that never failed to stir him. “How much you did for me—and them—that day.”

That sobered him. “I suspect we haven’t seen the last of Rathmoor. He truly hates
the two of you, especially Bonnaud. And I’m not sure why.”

“Me neither, but he always has.” She took a deep breath, then said lightly, “Let’s
not think about him, shall we? Besides, I have to go tell Cook that it will be just
the two of us for dinner.” She grinned down at him. “You see? There are certain advantages
to having Victor gone. For example, now that I need not consider
his
wishes for dinner, you can have whatever your heart desires. So tell me, my lord
duke, what might that be?”

He dragged her onto his lap, taking her off guard. “I’ll tell you exactly what the
duke desires, my wild rose. And it’s not dinner.”

“You want us to take another jaunt to France on your yacht?” she teased. “Or even
Spain this time?”

“Much as I enjoyed the last trip we made, I had in mind something a bit closer to
hand.” His eyes gleamed as he reached beneath her gown. “All Victor’s talk about my
heirs has made me think we should get right to work on producing them.”

With a sensual smile, Lisette looped her arms about
his neck. “I thought we’d already been working rather hard at it.”

“You know me.” He gazed into the face of the woman who had changed his life, who had
given him hope and passion and a future, and his heart flipped over in his chest.
He lowered his mouth to hers. “A duke’s work is never done. Thank God.”

E
UGÈNE VIDOCQ
was a real person—and is widely considered to be the first private detective and
the father of modern criminology, not to mention the founder of the Sûreté Nationale.
When Scotland Yard was first established, Sir Robert Peel twice sent men to consult
with Vidocq and observe his methods. Several details in my story come straight from
accounts of his life. Vidocq really did start out as a criminal, and decided to switch
sides after watching a cohort hanged. He really did have a staff of four clerks to
keep up with his sixty thousand cards detailing all the characteristics of criminals
he’d dealt with. He really did make a fortune by inventing tamperproof paper for banks.
And he really did hire female agents!

There actually is a town named Gheel (now Geel) in Belgium that became famous in the
early 1800s as a “colony for maniacs.” It had one of the most forward-thinking programs
for dealing with the mentally ill of its time—the people of the town took care of
them at
a price, and in exchange, the mentally ill were housed with their caregivers and given
useful work to do. Those patients who were harmless were allowed to roam the streets
at will; those who grew violent were restrained or kept in irons until they could
be rational again. A committee oversaw the program. Geel still places some patients
with town inhabitants. How revolutionary!