The Secret Duke (24 page)

“What’s amiss?”

Bella started out of her thoughts to find him looking at her.

“Are you still worried about someone here recognizing you after four years? I doubt I would have without prompting, but in any case, why would it matter?”

Bella didn’t have to reply, because a woman marched into the hall. “Don’t you go getting your wet all over my floors, Caleb Rose!”

Caleb. For some reason the biblical name didn’t suit him.

“I can no more help it than a duck straight out of a stream, Aunt Ann,” he protested. “Have pity on two ducks and provide tea.”

“Oh, go on with you,” the plump woman said, chuck-ling. “Sari, get some towels!” she called as she led them to a small parlor with one narrow window and four plain chairs. It was warmed by a fire, however, so Bella took off her cloak. The rain hadn’t soaked through, thank goodness, so she hung it on a hook on the wall.

Captain Rose was still teasing the middle-aged innkeeper, and being treated the same, with much laughter. As Bella stripped off her gloves and held her hands out to the fire, his behavior made her smile. Surely a man must be good to be treated with such affection.

A maid came in with linen cloths, and Bella wiped the rain off her face and hat as best she could as she tried to assess similarities between goatherd and sea captain. Tall. Well built but not heavy. Stubble on the chin . . .

He turned and caught her studying him. Both maid and innkeeper had left, so they were alone, and though the door was open Bella felt a frisson of impropriety. It arose, she realized, entirely from seeing him as an ordinary man. No, not ordinary, but a man she might—she hesitated over the extraordinary notion—might marry.

He gestured to a chair near the fire. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me exactly what you have in mind for your brother.”

Bella took a chair on one side of the fire and he sat in the other, doing it with neat grace. It was a strange thing to note, but she remembered the way he’d lounged the other night. Graceful, but in a more animal way. The effects of drink, she supposed. She was surprised he was going to content himself with mere tea after the chilly rain.

Changeable as the sea, indeed.

He raised a brow. “You’re studying me as if I’m a mystery.”

“Perhaps I’m wondering how shocked you’ll be at my plan.”

It was true. To propose revenge to a smuggler and scoundrel was one thing. To mention it to this man now made her nervous.

The innkeeper returned then, bringing the tea tray herself. She poured for Bella, adding milk and sugar as required, and put the cup and saucer in her hands. “There, now, ma’am, that’ll warm you. And don’t you let him get up to any of his tricks. I’ll let you pour your own, particular as you are,” she said to Captain Rose. “You behave yourself, my boy, and keep this door open.”

She swept out, and as Captain Rose poured a small amount of milk into his cup, he pulled a wry face. “Clearly she feels entitled to treat me like a naughty boy.”

“It’s good that someone does.”

His lips twitched. “Ungrateful wench.”

She smiled back at him, suddenly very . . . happy. Yes, that was the word. Another unfamiliar sensation, but here in this cozy room, by a warm fire, sipping sweet tea, she felt happier than she could remember.

He poured tea into his cup and drank some. Bella realized something else.

“This is excellent tea.”

“You’re a connoisseur?” he asked, watching her over the rim of his cup.

“No, but I know good from bad, I think, and I like this.”

“It is a blend I like, and Aunt Ann serves it here to customers likely to appreciate it. Let’s return to the punishment of Augustus the Vile. Do you have any notion how to expose his sins?”

Bella had to confess, “No. I thought of merely catching him in the act, but that wouldn’t achieve much, would it?”

“He would very much dislike it.”

“True. And perhaps I could spread the news.” In the Fowler letter, she was thinking, but the sins of a country baronet wouldn’t interest that lady. “He plans a marriage, you see, to a sweet and innocent young girl. I don’t just seek revenge. I need to ruin him so he can’t marry Charlotte Langham or any decent woman. So he can’t hurt people anymore.”

He was looking at her blankly, and she turned away. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m burdening you with all this. I was mad to come to Dover.”

“Nonsense. As I said, I’ll help you if I can, but you can’t be the one to speak of your brother’s sins. It would be taken as spite.”

Bella looked up again and sighed. “I know. It’s hopeless, isn’t it?”

He offered her more tea and she accepted it. He took a second cup himself.

“Death would be the ultimate justice,” he said.

She searched his features. “I couldn’t kill him. Perhaps a stronger woman could, but no, I couldn’t.”

“Could you bring yourself to hire his killer?”

She felt pinned by his questions, as if on trial. Strangely, her principal thought was that she wouldn’t want her brother’s death on anyone else’s conscience, but especially not on this man’s.

“No,” she said. Not wanting to seem weak, she added, “Death’s too good for him.” Abruptly, she realized it was true. “I want him to live with his penance as I did,” she said, “but all life long. And I want him so thoroughly shamed that he’ll have to stop being a magistrate. Stop going in decent society. So that he’ll not even be able to walk down a street . . .”

The words had spilled out of her, but now she looked at him, wondering if he was disgusted.

All he said was, “He might, after some years, blow his brains out. Would that distress you?”

“No,” Bella said. “I don’t think it would. I’m sure that’s very unchristian.”

“There’s nothing wrong in wanting just revenge on the blackguard who caused you so much pain, and yes, Miss Barstowe, I will help you if I can. After all, this matter touches me. I was entangled with your mishap, and I intend to make your brother pay. The question is, do you want to be involved, to be present, or will you be satisfied that it has been done?”

Bella put down her cup and saucer, dazed by the choice. Her desire for retribution had been powerful, but her vision of it had been very misty. It still was, but the question he’d posed was startlingly clear.

She inhaled, but then said, “If possible, I would like to be involved. And yes, to be present. But . . .”

He raised a hand, smiling. “No need for buts until we know what’s involved. Does your brother live mostly in the country or in Town?”

“In the country. In Oxfordshire. He visits London occasionally, but rarely.”

“Interesting. London offers more anonymity.”

“I think he used to go more, but he was set upon by ruffians and has avoided the place since except for business. Oh, that was Coxy’s work. His retribution.”

“A coward,” he said. “As I thought. But if I know the country, no matter how devious your brother is, some people will know his vices and his haunts. It’s in Oxfordshire that we’ll find information and a plan.”

“Oxfordshire,” Bella said, intending to say that she could not return there, especially not to the area around Carscourt. But that would be where the plan would have to take place.

“Where is your home now?” he asked.

Bella had to think quickly about how much to tell him, for she didn’t want him to know about Bellona or Lady Fowler. His opinion of her mattered too much. But she had to admit to some home.

“London,” she said. “Soho.”

“Alone?” he asked, brows raised.

“With an elderly relative. Her offer of a home allowed me to escape.”

“She allows you great freedom.”

What could she say but, “Yes.”

“Then we should travel to London together. I have business there, as it happens, and we can discuss matters further en route.”

Business with your half brother, the duke?
That connection still worried Bella, but His Grace the Duke of Ithorne could not magically discover that his half brother was consorting with a woman who’d invaded his revels, and who was an associate of Lady Fowler.

“We won’t be able to discuss such matters in front of other passengers,” she objected.

“We’ll travel by post.”

He said it so calmly, as if it were not outrageous at all. Not long ago, travel with a strange man in a private carriage would have seemed impossibly scandalous. Now, with him, it was irresistible.

With this colleague, this conspirator.

This friend.

This man who might be and become more—especially in a private carriage.

“Very well,” Bella said, as calmly as she was able. “An early start?”

“Before dawn, if you’re willing.”

“Of course. As this is my business, Captain Rose, you must allow me to pay for the chaise.” It would stretch her income to the full.

“Nonsense. I would be traveling to London anyway.”

Relieved, Bella graciously acceded, and they rose to make their sedate way back to the Compass.

Inside, however, Bella was all nerves and excitement.

This morning her driving purpose had been to get revenge on Augustus and prevent him from ever hurting others. She still wanted that, but now she felt on the road to something much more alluring.

Discovering more about this intriguingly changeable man.

 

Thorn escorted Bella Barstowe to her room at the Compass, aware of danger, and that it was irresistible. The danger presented by an intriguing and desirable woman.

Kelano of the Pleiades, but Kelano the Amazon too, willing to fight for justice. Kelano the harpy, the agent of his destruction? Danger did add savor to life, but he couldn’t imagine Bella in that guise.

Tempting her to travel with him was setting the stage for disaster, however. She’d scoffed at the idea of wanting to be compromised into marrying a sea captain, but if she discovered he was a duke she might see things differently. The astonishing thing was, that didn’t deter him. After avoiding traps all his adult life, he seemed now willing to shrug at one.

There was something between them. Something he’d experienced only rarely, and never with a young, single woman. She felt it too. He could tell.

It had been there at the revels, and again at the Goat, even though she’d been so wary then. It had been the reason she’d fled, and the reason he’d returned, against his better judgment, the next day.

The reason he’d felt sharp disappointment when she hadn’t come to the tryst.

The reason he was going to travel with her tomorrow and, with or without her, destroy her brother.

He wished he could sweep her suffering away, and restore to her all that she’d lost, but that was impossible, even for the Duke of Ithorne. As Duke of Ithorne, however, he had a thousand ways to destroy her brother without involving her at all.

His rational side knew that would be best. He should return her to her home in London and compel her to stay there in safety. She deserved to be part of it, though, to witness justice done, and he’d give her that, at least.

 

 

 

 

T
hey set out before dawn by chaise to London, as planned. When Bella saw four horses pulling the light post chaise, she was fervently glad she’d allowed him to pay for it all. Sea captains must be wealthier than she’d thought.

In the night her thoughts had turned to marriage.

Once, not long ago, she’d been sure it was folly for a woman to marry if she had the means to stay single, but that certainty had proved a brittle shell, easily cracked—by happy lovers, and by a man who could just possibly be a good husband.

He was handsome, but that weighed little. More important, he was kind, considerate, and could laugh with his aunt, an innkeeper. Physically, he stirred her, and in the night she’d remembered that kiss from long ago, spinning into dreams and fancies that combined goatherd, footman, and dashing, heroic Captain Rose, all wrapped up as an ideal husband.

And now it appeared he was also rich.

Even so, such a marriage would once have been low for Bella Barstowe, but that Bella might as well be dead. She was never going to marry a country gentleman, and certainly not achieve her youthful dream of wedding a lord with a grand estate and a house in Town. She was never even going to be accepted back into any version of the society into which she’d been born.

So why not become Mistress Rose?

Her betraying nighttime mind had spun out images of life in one of the Dover cottages, of his kind and loving arms, and of children. Of neighbors and respect. Of shopping and cooking . . .

Even a nighttime vision had stuttered there, for she didn’t know how to cook. Then she’d realized that Peg might want to come with her, and that she could find replacements for Annie and Kitty.

Servants meant she’d had to adjust her neat cottage to something a little larger. Captain Rose was a captain, after all, and half brother to a duke. The duke might visit. She’d added a modest drawing room and dining room and furnished all with a degree of elegance. That had required a footman, but that had toppled her into memory of the Goat, and a bed, and into very different imaginings that had made her blush when they’d met this morning.

She’d heard him casually explaining to the innkeeper that he’d brought word to Miss Barstowe requiring her to return to London and that he was offering her transportation. She hadn’t even thought of how it would look here, but if there was any possibility of her dreams becoming true, that was important. She’d made sure to look both dull and distant.

Now they were traveling at speed, and Bella was discovering that a chaise was very small when shared with a large man, especially one whose presence seemed particularly powerful.

She took refuge in rational thought. She had had some rational thoughts in the night, and now she raised a problem.