What the Duke Desires (21 page)

Just as he was. In such a short span of time, his entire world had changed. Nothing would ever be the same.

She finished the last item and set the pile aside gingerly, as if she feared the words she had read might bite her.

“Let me see if I understand this,” she said softly, steepling her fingers on her lap.

When she lifted her gaze and looked at him evenly, he felt relieved she didn’t shy away. God, she was strong. Stronger than he was at the moment.

“The real Simon Crathorne was permanently injured in an accident at the lake here on the estate thirty years ago, when the boy was just two.”

He nodded. That certainly explained why his mother and father hated the place and were so protective about him going there.

“Apparently he nearly drowned. He was revived, but his mind was never the same,” he choked out.

“Your father, not wanting to lose the chance to have the next Duke of Billingham come from his own blood, came to London, found your real mother, and essentially bought you and her silence. You and the real heir were almost the same age and looked similar enough that after a few months your father and the duchess felt comfortable enough to bring you out in front of guests as the real Simon. No one was the wiser, including you, because you were so young.”

He nearly choked as he heard the words out loud. It sickened him to think of the lie his life had been. And all for what? For his father’s vanity?

“But why did your father not simply have another child with your mother?” Lillian asked. “Why instigate such a ruse?”

He shook his head. “She has always said that my…” He hesitated. “
Simon’s
birth did some damage to her body. She was told she could bear no more children.”

Lillian shut her eyes. “And so he simply replaced one for another. Without thought to you or to anyone else around him.”

He nodded. “Yes. They raised me as if I was their legitimate son. And apparently believed I’d never know. Never question.”

Lillian frowned. “But the items you found earlier that explained your father had an illegitimate son…
you
…why would he leave those for you to find?”

“I don’t think he intended to,” Simon said with a sigh. “All other references to the bastard children were hidden in the cubby below the desk, never to be found. I think the first information I found about…well, myself, I suppose, was left in the ledger accidentally. He fell victim to his own disorganization.”

Which would be ironic if it wasn’t so bloody sad and pathetic.

“Even if he
did
know there was evidence for me to find,” he finished quietly, “he died suddenly of an apoplexy. There was no warning or way for him to organize his affairs first.”

Slowly, Lillian stood and moved toward him. Part of him wanted to back away, but a greater part wanted her comfort. Especially since he saw no pity or disgust in her stare when she reached for him. If there had been that, he couldn’t have borne it.

She reached up to touch his face, and the sadness in her expression made his own eyes sting with tears.

“Simon—”

“No. That isn’t my name,” he snapped, pulling away.

She grabbed for him and clung surprisingly tight for such a small woman. “It
is
your name. This information, it changes what you know, it doesn’t change who you are.”

“Of course it fucking does, Lillian,” he cried out, pulling away from her and making his way across the room.

“No!” She followed him, tenacious as a bulldog. “A life is made of experiences, choices, friendships…your father and mother—” She stopped and then corrected herself. “Your father and the duchess might have taken away your name, they might have slipped you into their son’s life, but they didn’t take away those experiences or choices or friendships. Since you were two, you have
been
Simon Crathorne.”

“But there is a real Simon Crathorne still out there somewhere,” he argued, fisting his hands at his sides in pure frustration. “He didn’t die in that accident, his mind was just maimed. I’m living his life, Lillian. I
stole
his life. And this title, if the real Simon is not capable of serving with it, then it should go to our cousin, whether he wants it or not. I have
stolen
that man’s title.”

“You stole nothing!” Lillian cried out, and there was such passion in her voice that it silenced him.

He stared at her as she came toward him, a passionate Valkyrie, ready to fight for him, whether that meant she dueled with him or the world.

“You had something thrust upon you that you did not choose,” she said, her voice much softer. She looked as if she understood, even though that was impossible. How could she?

“And now what do I do with it?” he asked, sinking into the nearest chair. “What do I do, Lillian?”

She knelt down on the floor before him so they were at eye level. Taking his hands, she let out a long sigh as she pondered that question.

“When you gave me those things you found, you told me your sister said if you discovered where your mother went, it would reveal all. What did she mean?”

He blinked, trying to clear his mind.

“For as long as I can recall, my mother…” He caught himself. “The
duchess
disappeared for long periods of time when we came to this estate. Sometimes hours, once for a few days. Father never commented on it. Once when I was eight, I tried to follow her, but when she caught me she beat me with a switch and was more careful after that.”

Lillian flinched, but made no comment. “And your sister said once you read the facts, you would understand the riddle.”

Simon nodded. At present his mind was so tangled he couldn’t
understand
anything except pain. So much pain. So many lies.

Lillian thought for a moment, pondering what Naomi had said. Then her eyes widened and she let out a gasp.

“What is it?”

She stared at him. “Simon, if the duchess went someplace she didn’t want you to know about…could it be your brother, the real heir, is somewhere on the estate? Could she be visiting her child?”

He blinked down at her. He had been so wrapped up in the shocking realization that he wasn’t the man he thought he was…he hadn’t even considered that. But it made sense. Hiding the injured boy on the property reduced the chance of being caught in their deception.

As he stared at her, Lillian grabbed for the discarded things she had read through a few moments before. She flipped through them, pausing to read from time to time. Finally, she held out a ledger.

“Here.”

He took what she offered. It was a line of figures and a crudely drawn map Simon had dismissed when he read through the other more damning items in his father’s hidden cubby.

“It says the year you would have been brought to the estate, a small cottage was built in a remote corner of this wooded area. There isn’t even a road to get there.” Lillian tilted her head. “Perhaps that is where they keep…
him
.”

“Simon,” he said dully as he stared. The place was about five miles from the house and hidden among brambles and heavy woods. It would be the perfect location to hide something.

Or someone.

Lillian rose up on her knees and cupped his face gently. “Yes. And I think we should go there.”

Simon flinched, but Lillian held fast.

“We must go, if only to see if he’s there.”

He drew in a harsh breath. The very idea of it made him queasy. If Lillian was right and Simon…the
real
Simon…was there, how could he face the man whose life he had taken? How could he look at the brother he had never known?

“I don’t know…” He moved to turn his face, but she didn’t allow it.

“Simon,” she whispered. “You
need
to do this. Only by seeing him will you know what road to take. And I’ll be with you. I won’t leave your side unless you ask me to do so.”

She was right, of course. He had come so far in uncovering his father’s lies, he had to see the task through. And if Lillian would be with him, the duty seemed slightly less daunting.

He found himself jerking out a nod. “Yes. We shall go tomorrow.”

“Now come upstairs with me,” she whispered. “I’ll stay with you tonight.”

He tilted his head to stare at her. She was offering him comfort, not sex. And he needed it as he needed air. So he got up and silently followed her to his chamber and what he knew would be a sleepless night.

She smoothed his hair gently, and the motion seemed to calm him, for his mouth relaxed and his breathing became heavier. She sighed. At least she could grant him that fleeting peace.

There was little else she could give.

Staring up through the darkness of his chamber, Lillian blinked back tears. The events of the night played over and over in her head.

Simon had laid out at her feet the darkest, deepest, most devastating secret she ever could have hoped for when she came here. If the world found out that the supposedly good Duke of Billingham had in fact replaced his injured son with a bastard…if they knew he had lied about everything in his life and the boy’s life…well, there would be a scandal unlike any other. It would be splashed across every paper in London and throughout the countryside. It would be on every lip at every party for the next ten years.

And yet, she felt no pleasure in that fact. She had given up her decision to reveal the duke for what he was, so knowing he could be so cruel gave her nothing but a sick sensation in her stomach. All she could think about was how much the man had hurt Simon.

Somehow in the time she had known him, Simon’s pains had become her own, his disappointments cut her, his future was hers. And now, lying beside him in the dark, she knew she loved him.

She hadn’t even been stunned to realize it. And she still wasn’t. Loving him seemed natural. True. Right.

Even though he didn’t know who she was, why she had come here. She had planned to tell him tonight, but she couldn’t. He was bearing the weight of far too much already. Later,
later
she would confess. For now she had to concentrate on helping him.

And so tomorrow she would go with him to face the most difficult challenge he would likely ever encounter. And she would stand by his side, supporting him with all her love and strength.

And then she would marry him.

She could only hope that in the lifetime she had to build with him, she would find a way to make up for her original intentions. That she would find a way to be worthy of the man who had washed away her anger and replaced it with a love so powerful that it mattered more than anything.

“I can’t go no further and there ain’t nothin’ ’round here, Your Grace,” he said. “Are you sure this is where you want to be dropped off?”

Simon nodded. “I am. Please wait here while my fiancée and I take a walk. We shall return, though I don’t know how long we’ll be.”

The man looked around him once more and then shrugged as he pulled his hat down lower as protection against the rain. “Whatever Your Lordship wishes.”

Lillian looked at Simon, and her expression was as grim as his own felt. He took her arm, and the two of them made off away from the path.

After they were far enough from the carriage so the driver wouldn’t see, Lillian withdrew from her reticule the makeshift map his father had sketched out nearly three decades before. The ink was fading and the paper was yellowed but most of the landmarks within remained.

And in some way, Simon didn’t need the map. Something was calling him, guiding him to the place where they might very well find his brother. Where his past, which was now so shadowy, might become clearer. Perhaps seeing this man whose life he had been living would give it all some kind of purpose.

They had walked nearly two miles through untamed fields and into a copse of trees when suddenly the cottage came into view over a low hill. Simon stopped. It was a pretty little place. Cheery, with bright white walls and plenty of colorful flowers around the front door.

He didn’t realize how long he had been standing there until Lillian gently tugged him forward.

“Come, love. Let us finish this. We’ve come all this way.”

He drew in a long breath as he looked down at her upturned face. Although he was uncertain of his past, when he looked at her the future didn’t seem so bleak.

“I’m glad you are here,” he murmured as they approached the door.

Then he lifted his hand and rapped smartly on the face. There were sounds of movement from within and then the door opened to reveal a round-faced, merry servant woman. The moment she saw Simon, her smile fell and her eyes widened.

“Why…Y-Your Grace,” she stammered, moving subtly to block the door. “What are you doing here?”

His eyes narrowed. “I’ve come to see
him
.”

“No,” the woman cried, and she shook her head wildly. “The duchess said we weren’t to let anyone see. She said he was to be protected. She said never—”

“Her Grace has no authority over those who live on
my
lands,” he said, using that “lord of the manor” tone he had always loathed. Still, it had its purposes, for the woman ceased her listing of all the reasons why she couldn’t allow him entry.

“She will be very angry,” she finally whispered, her eyes welling with fearful tears.

Softening his stance, Simon touched her arm. “I will take full responsibility…What is your name?”

“I’m the housekeeper, Mrs. White,” the woman said as she curtsied first to him and then to Lillian.

“Mrs. White, I promise you Her Ladyship will spend any anger on me, not you,” he said. “Now please, where is he?”

The woman stepped aside and granted them entry. She was silent as she closed the door behind them and then moved down a narrow but brightly lit hallway. She stopped at a door and hesitated.

“He is within,” she whispered.

Simon nodded. “Is he alone?”

“No, he has a companion who takes care of him and keeps him company. She’s been with him all these years, since the accident,” the housekeeper said. “Her name is Miss Lewiston.”

“Thank you.” Simon turned his attention back to the closed door. “You may go.”

The servant nodded and then all but fled, leaving Simon and Lillian alone before the chamber. For a long time, he merely stared at the door.

“What if I cannot do this?” he finally said through clenched teeth.

Lillian rubbed his upper arm gently, and somehow the action soothed him. “You can.”

He nodded and then pushed the door open. The chamber was a big, airy room, brightly lit by a roaring fire. When it was sunny out, the many windows would have brightened it even more. The walls were painted in pale, friendly colors and the furniture was comfortable and large, though somewhat worn.

Simon stepped inside, almost unable to breathe as he looked around. He saw the woman first. Miss Lewiston, the housekeeper had called her. She was older, thin and tall, but not severe in the slightest. When she noticed his presence, she rushed across the room, her hands up.

“Who are you, what are you doing here?” she snapped.

Simon looked her up and down. “I’m Simon Crathorne, Duke of Billingham. I am here to see my brother.”

Before the pale woman could respond, a deep voice echoed from behind a couch. “Simon? My name is Simon, too!”

Simon watched, utterly mesmerized, as a tall, heavyset man stood up from his hiding place behind the settee. He looked utterly normal, like any man of two and thirty would, only his hair was tousled and his eyes flitted almost as an excitable child’s would.

He lumbered across the room and smiled shyly at Simon and Lillian. “Miss Lewiston, he has my name.”

The servant looked at her charge with a soft smile. “Indeed, he does.” She cast her glance at Simon with a frown, her nervousness making her fidget her hands at her sides. “Isn’t it nice to have visitors?”

As his brother nodded, Miss Lewiston looked to Lillian and Simon.

“Do you intend to do him any harm?” she asked through gritted teeth.

Simon drew back. “Of course not. I’m here only to meet him. To try to understand…well,
this
.”

After a few moments of observation, Miss Lewiston nodded and stepped back, allowing Simon and Lillian full access into the room.

“This man is very important,” she said to her charge. “He is a duke. How does one address a duke?”

“Your Grace,” his brother said as proudly as a child in school would do when quizzed.

Simon shut his eyes. His brother was clearly a boy trapped in a man’s body, his mind cut off by the accident that had happened all those years ago. He might look like an adult, but in reality, he was probably no more than five or six years old in his mind.

“You may just call me…” Simon hesitated. “Henry, if you like.”

The other man shrugged. “Yes, Henry. Did you come to play?”

“Play?” Simon repeated.

He moved forward and Lillian released his arm. He looked back at her over his shoulder but she only smiled in encouragement, letting him go, letting him interact with his brother, but never inserting herself into the situation.

“Simon loves to play,” the nurse said quietly, also standing back to allow him access. “When it is cold or rainy, like it is today, we play inside games. His favorite is ‘find me.’ We were playing when you came in, which is why he was hidden behind the couch.”

“It sounds like you are quite fine at the game,” Simon said as he came forward. “I didn’t know you were there when I entered.”

His brother grinned, a crooked smile that made him seem almost as young as he behaved. “Very fine. Mama comes and she can never find me.”

Simon bit back a groan of pain. God, his mother…or the woman who had posed as his mother. She had been coming here for three decades, looking in on and loving this boy even while she hated
him
. And now it all made sense.

“I have soldiers, want to see?” the other man said, pulling Simon from his reverie.

He looked over his shoulder. Lillian was wiping tears from her eyes, but she managed another encouraging smile. Her presence bolstered him and he stepped closer.

“Yes,” he said softly. “I would very much like to see your soldiers.”

His brother led him to a tidy corner with tray after tray of children’s things stacked neatly. “We can play together. We could be friends.”

Simon stared as his brother got to the floor and began yanking items from the shelves.

“I promise you, Simon,” he said as he reached down to tousle his brother’s already messy hair, “I will be the best friend I can be to you. I’ll protect you. No matter what it takes.”

Then Simon Crathorne, formerly Henry Ives, sat down on the floor with his brother and played soldiers.