Duke of Deception (Wentworth Trilogy) (24 page)

Stephen sighed and rose from the sofa, moving to the fireplace where he stood, his arms braced against the mantel as he stared into the flames for a few silent moments. When he turned around, his look of sad resignation told her she had won.

“How long have you known him?” she asked.

“For many years,” Stephen replied tonelessly. “Since we were boys.”

Lucy tried to make sense of his words. “But how did you know him as a boy? He’s an American, and he went to sea at the age of fourteen.”

Stephen frowned. “Did he tell you that? Did he actually say he was born in America and lived there as a boy or did you just assume it to be so?”

“I don’t know. He must have told me. At least I am certain he said he went to sea at fourteen.”

“That much is true, but he was born in England and spent the first part of his life here, and that is how I know him. We knew each other as children and went to school together for a while. A very short while.”

Lucy stared. “He’s an Englishman?” She shook her head in confusion, remembering Derek’s words about his early schooling and misbehaviors. Had he ever actually said the schools were in America? Exhaustion settled upon her. “I don’t understand.”

“Well, he’s an American now. He’s been there the last half of his life. Look, if you want to know anything else about his upbringing, ask him. It’s not my place to tell you, and I think he would answer your questions honestly if you only asked.”

Lucy pondered his words, realizing she had never asked such questions of her husband. Perhaps he would have told her. “Fair enough, but I have other questions I’d like to ask you, questions he cannot answer. Do you trust him?”

Stephen hesitated for the briefest moment. “Of course. We’re business partners, are we not?”

“Yet he was seen in the islands with a cargo of slaves, and you say you know nothing of it.”

“I tell you that has to be a rumor. I have the paperwork on the shipments. There was only brandy and whiskey and—” He stopped short and swallowed hard, his eyes shifting away from hers.

“And what?”

“Nothing. Not slaves, anyway.”

Lucy lifted her brows in haughty challenge. “Is he involved in something illegal?”

“Of course not.”

“Then what? Lord Fenick’s report is only one of my concerns. Other things have happened, and I deserve to know the truth.”

“What other things?” Stephen asked sharply.

“What was his cargo?” Lucy returned with an unwavering stare.

“Wheat,” Stephen said dully. “He was carrying Stonecrest wheat.”

Lucy drew back as though she’d been slapped. The thought that Derek might be selling
her
property had never occurred to her.

“Surely he plans to give you his share of the profits from its sale. You shall have it, I promise you. He just forgot to mention it to you, that’s all. Derek has enough money for anything he could possibly want. He could not want yours too. He . . . ”

“He what?”

“Nothing. I refuse to relay unfounded gossip, especially about a friend.”

Lucy recalled the day she took Derek on the tour of Stonecrest and told him about her uncle absconding with the little harvest they’d had. He’d said nothing, but his compassionate expression had borne a trace of uneasiness, and now she knew why. He was helping her uncle sell the wheat and profiting from it as well. “I rather doubt he forgot to mention it, but either way, he did not have the right.”

“No, he didn’t,” Stephen agreed, “but he must have had a reason. I know him well and I refuse to think ill of him. What else has been troubling you?”

She hesitated. “He gave all the servants the day off and took me on a picnic. When we returned, my study had been ransacked.”

“Ransacked? Was anything missing?”

“No.”

“You see!”

“That only means the thief didn’t find what he was looking for, not surprising since I keep everything of value locked in my personal safe.”

“Derek must have known that, so it doesn’t stand to reason he would have your study searched, does it?”

Lucy bristled at his remark. “Why should Derek know about my personal safe? I don’t owe him explanations. My personal keepsakes are not his property, and neither is Stonecrest wheat,” she added bitterly. “I don’t care what the normal legal conventions are; Derek and I signed a marriage agreement and my property did not become his.”

Stephen shook his head. “I’m sorry. It’s just that a husband and a wife usually . . . Well, never mind. I don’t know what to say. He’s been consumed by something, something I gave my word I wouldn’t discuss, and I won’t go back on my word.”

“The maps?” she asked, and watched surprise flood his face.

“He told you?”

“Yes. Why does he want them?”

“Why would anyone want treasure maps?”

“These have no value. He admitted as much when he looked at them, so I don’t understand—”

“He looked at them?”

Lucy nodded. “And found nothing.”

“Perhaps you didn’t have the particular map he was interested in. Are you sure you had all of them locked in your safe? Your father didn’t hide any of them away?”

“Yes, I am quite sure. I know every inch of this house. If Papa had hidden anything, I would know it.”

“Well, I must say I’m surprised Derek didn’t mention this to me. I knew he wanted to study the maps, and we spent a day together in London before he sailed, yet he said nothing about it, probably because I’d told him more than once he was wasting his time. Perhaps he simply forgot to mention it. I do believe he was preoccupied with thoughts of you at the time,” Stephen added with a knowing smile.

Lucy looked away. Surely Derek wouldn’t have told Stephen the intimate details of their marriage, especially of that last night, would he? That would be a terribly rude and unforgivable act if he had, but she would put nothing past him at this point. She glanced back at Stephen to find him studying her with calculating eyes.

“I refuse to believe he’s up to anything dishonorable,” he said. “It would be unlike him.”

“As you say the selling of slaves would be,” she replied.

“Yes. I can’t believe that, either. Look, I don’t know what to think. I wish I didn’t have to think about this at all.” He ran his fingers through his hair again and opened his mouth to say something, then stopped. Shaking his head, he was silent for a moment, then rummaged through his pocket and withdrew a card. “May I write something?” he asked.

Lucy nodded toward the desk in the corner of the parlor where she often sat to write instructions for Mrs. Gray.

After dipping the quill into ink, Stephen wrote on the back of the card and then dried the ink. He carried the card to her. “This is my London address with directions on the back, should you need to contact me. Just send a message and I’ll come immediately, at any time.” He took her hand between both of his and held it, his touch gentle. “I want you to send me a note when Derek returns, to let me know he’s come home. Will you promise me that?”

“You will surely know before I,” she said, surprised at his request. “Doesn’t his ship dock in London? There will be the profits from the voyage to settle with you and . . . ” She let the sentence trail off as she realized the full implication of Stephen’s words.

“I’m not concerned about my finances,” Stephen said quickly, “and I’m not worried about Derek’s actions. I’m sure he can explain everything to your satisfaction, so I think you should put all this out of your mind until he returns. However, I’m not leaving until you promise you’ll send me a note when he returns. It’s quite possible he will come straight to Stonecrest to rest before he attends to business, and my mind will be eased to know he’s back and you’re safe.”

His explanation didn’t fool Lucy for a moment, but she told him about Kirkpatrick to alleviate any fears he might have regarding her safety. Her assurances seemed to agitate rather than console him, confirming her suspicion that it wasn’t her safety at all that had him worried, but the fact that Derek might never contact him to settle the profits of the voyage. She finally agreed to send Stephen a note upon Derek’s return, but her heart was heavy.

Derek’s own partner didn’t trust him, was afraid of his intentions. She knew then that all the ghastly rumors about Derek might be true. There was every possibility that he
had
plundered all those ships and stolen fortunes and perhaps even killed people. He wanted money more than he wanted anything, and he would take it any way he could get it.

She clutched at Stephen’s card and tried to set aside her sadness. It was best she learned all this now. She didn’t love Derek anymore anyway, but just in case she might have felt tempted to waver, this would surely end it. She needed to know the worst of him so she could get on with her life. She was grateful, in fact, grateful to learn the truth now, rather than later.

She stared through tears at the elegantly engraved calling card, her mind seeing only Derek as he’d been that morning he said goodbye. He was an excellent liar. She’d actually believed he wanted to come back to her and start their relationship anew, and even though she’d carried this sick apprehension around with her since Sara’s visit, she’d also carried around a kernel of hope, hope that all the rumors were wrong. But if his own partner and friend didn’t trust him . . .

Really, it was a stroke of luck that she’d found out now. This way, she could be prepared, she could begin her life anew, and go on.

Still, it was a hard thing to bear.

N
earing the village of Chelton, Derek rode ahead of the carriage, which was slow and heavily laden, not only with goods purchased as presents, but with Jimmy as well. Jimmy’s welfare was his responsibility, after all. Not because the boy stowed away on the Siren so he could join Derek, but because Derek had snatched him from the streets to begin with.

Since that moment when their paths first collided, Jimmy’s fate was changed, and Derek hadn’t given the boy any choice in the matter. Now he wondered if he should have interfered at all. Perhaps Jimmy would have fared all right on his own. Thinking back to the child’s pale face and painfully thin body, though, he doubted it.

Still, Jimmy was not only recovering from an injury sustained while in Derek’s care, but he was an ocean away from his homeland, and Derek had to question whether or not he had made the right choice to keep him here or even if the choice had been his to make. The fact that the lad jumped at the offer to stay and work at Dorrington Hall was of little consolation. He was young and hadn’t yet lost his hero-worship of Derek; any decision made would be borne of those facts. But would Jimmy feel the same in ten years?

Remembering the loneliness and the feeling of separateness that had haunted him for his first two years in America, he decided if Jimmy ever wanted to return home, he’d do everything possible to send him there. In the meantime, he’d set the boy up as an apprentice to learn a trade he could take with him wherever he went. Or rather, that’s what he would do when they got to Dorrington. For now, he’d have to appeal to Lucy’s nurturing side, the compassionate part of her that took in stray kittens and stray employees, and hope she didn’t mind taking in Jimmy too.

Lucy.
He couldn’t wait to see her, to take her in his arms, to make love to her as he’d never had the chance to. The memories he’d relied on for the past four months flitted through his mind. An angry, defiant Lucy in glorious dishabille, her brilliant blue eyes flashing as she insisted that nothing could ever induce her to marry him. Sweet, innocent Lucy, clasping her petticoats to her breast, her voice trembling as she tried ploy after ploy to avoid paying off the bet. Wary, wounded Lucy—no, he wouldn’t think about that now.

He was going to make that up to her. Now that he was back, he’d tell Stephen he was finished with the masquerade, he’d get Stonecrest taken care of, and then they would leave for Dorrington Hall, where Lucy would begin her life as Duchess of Dorrington, treated with all the respect due her station.

He skirted the village to avoid being delayed by anyone who might recognize him, then veered off onto the long lane that led to Stonecrest Manor. Except it could no longer be called a lane, he noticed with surprise. Gone were the holes that required quick maneuvering, as were the deep ruts that had run almost the entire length along both sides. The road was newly paved, dry and level, gently sloping to allow the rain to run off.

Impressed with the quality engineering of the road, he took in his surroundings with renewed interest. The tenants’ cottages coming into view sported bright paint, new doors, and newly thatched roofs. Behind the cottages, freshly dug gardens dotted the landscape, and small trees had been planted between them. Wells had been dug and the watering areas made into gathering spots, each with tables and benches, a stone hearth adequate for the use of several families, and a tree swing for the children.

He tipped his hat to the few tenants that were present and was gratified to see their faces break into smiles as they recognized him and waved back. A couple of the children joined him to skip along in front of his horse, shouting out his arrival to each cottage as he trotted by. More and more of the women and children came out to watch and wave as he passed.

He saw new tracts ready for planting, and then he abruptly drew up his reins, taking a few moments to stare at the irrigation system that ran through freshly tilled fields. This was one of the projects he’d expected to take care of, and he could hardly believe Lucy had been able to do it. His disbelief quickly gave way to admiration. She’d accomplished so much in such a short amount of time.

As he crested the hill that marked the downward journey to the manor, the chimneys of Stonecrest came into view, followed seconds later by the jagged outline of the widely sloping gables against the rolling hills. There was an openness to the expansive wings and bountiful windows, an unimposing grace to the limewashed walls and arches. Stonecrest seemed safe, secure, and inviting, beckoning, really, as though it welcomed him home.

He kicked his horse into a gallop, praying that Lucy would welcome him too.

D
erek strode along the stone path to the gardens, where Mrs. Gray said Lucy might be found. In his mind he pictured her strolling amidst the late summer flower beds, perhaps in her blue morning frock that brought out the color of her eyes or in that pink muslin gown that made her complexion glow. He chuckled as he realized he would be just as delighted to see her in those old breeches she insisted on wearing, for truly, there could be nothing that would make her look any less than beautiful.

As he neared the garden entrance, he saw Kirkpatrick standing quietly, half hidden behind a hedge. The bodyguard’s eyes met his, and Derek nodded a dismissal, wanting this first meeting with Lucy to be private. He waited as Kirkpatrick disappeared around the corner of the manor before he turned his attention to Lucy.

She was stooped down, pulling weeds, her back to him, and he cleared his throat as he approached, so he wouldn’t frighten her. When she turned, however, he was the one who got the fright of his life.

The woman who stared back at him appeared almost a stranger.

She was thin and pale, with huge, purple shadows under her eyes. Two dark smudges of dirt marred the beauty of one cheek, and a rivulet of sweat trickled through the middle of the smudge and down her neck, leaving a murky path that disappeared beneath her cotton smock. She reached up to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, and he saw that her hand was too slender. And shaking. But it was her eyes that terrified him. They were haunted, full of torment—and disgust.

“I’m surprised you came back,” Lucy said, her voice little more than a whisper.

A sense of dread seeped through him. “Why surprised? Wasn’t it understood?”

She stood to face him, and he knew then that something was terribly wrong. It was in the hollow depths of her eyes, the grim set of her jaw.

“What’s happened?” he asked quickly.

“You must have known word of your dealings would come back to me. Or did you think I wouldn’t care?” Her mouth settled into a thin line.

“Care about what? What dealings?” Derek waited, unable to imagine anything that would cause such a blatant look of hatred as she directed at him now.

“You don’t even see it as wrong, do you, even though you said you did that day of the picnic?” Her pinched white face began to draw color. “How could you steal people away from their homes and then pack them into a ship like cattle and sail them across the ocean like—” Her voice broke and she clamped her mouth shut and looked away as though she couldn’t stand the sight of him.

Derek stared, bewildered, as her words began to sink in. She thought him a slave trader? How in God’s name . . . ? “Lucy, I don’t know what you were told, but please don’t believe it.”

She swept herself up into a regal posture, the sternness of her stance accentuating her frailty. “Lord Fenick saw you on your ship with those slaves, so don’t bother lying. Please just get your things and go back to America. There can be no reason for you to remain here.”

Derek crossed the distance between them and reached for her. “Listen—”

She flinched and he drew back, stunned.

“Don’t you understand?” she said. “I don’t want you here.”

“Lucy, it’s not the way it seems. You have to trust me.”

“Trust
you?” She stepped back, mouth agape, and drew a ragged breath. “How can you even ask that of me? You’ve lied to me from the beginning. You’re not even from America, at least you weren’t born there. Perhaps everything you told me was a lie.”

“I never said I was born in America, and you never asked,” Derek said, wondering just how much she knew. “If I’m accused of something besides slave-trading, then say so.”

She stared at him for a long moment, the anger and hatred in her expression eventually giving way to sadness and regret. Finally she spoke. “I don’t want to ever see you again. I just want you to pack your belongings and go.” With that, she turned and walked away from him without looking back.

Derek stood frozen, unsure of what to do for perhaps the first time in his life. What he wanted to do was run after her, take her in his arms and comfort her, but that was obviously out of the question; she was so fragile, so brittle, that another word might shatter her. His wife hated him and she wouldn’t give him the chance to set her straight.

Even more important was her well-being. She was ill, or had been. Either way, she needed to be under a physician’s care. Or perhaps she already was; he didn’t know. He would soon find out, though. Kirkpatrick would know what was going on.

“M
a’am?”

Lucy’s hand jerked at the startling sound of a young boy’s voice, ruining her fourth attempt at the promised note to Stephen. The sight that greeted her—a little boy who stood in dirty, mismatched clothing, clutching an odd-looking bundle in one hand and a makeshift cane in the other—was even more astonishing. Derek had said nothing about such a guest, but then she had given him little chance to say much at all.

She glanced down guiltily at the half-written message announcing Derek’s return and quickly shoved it, along with Stephen’s card, into her drawer.

“Have you seen the cap’n, ma’am? He’s to tell me where I’m to sleep. I’m Jimmy,” the boy added, smiling up at her with green eyes that shone with more than a touch of mischief. “The cap’n brung me from the Siren. He was pretty sore that I stowed away, but he got over it soon enough. Some other lady took me to a room, but I’m thinkin’ she made a mistake. It’s much too grand for the likes of me. What’s wrong? Cat got yer tongue?”

Lucy stared in awe at the little boy. “Why, you can’t be more than eight years old, Jimmy. Whatever were you thinking of to stow away on a ship?”

Jimmy puffed up proudly. “I’m almost eleven. I’m just small for my age. That’s one of the reasons I was so good at picking pock—
er,
sorry, ma’am. I’m not s’posed to talk about that. I been workin’ fer the cap’n a few years now, but he never let me sail with ’im on any long trips before. But you can understand, can’t ya? I just had to sneak aboard. It weren’t fair of ’em to leave me behind in Baltimore, just ’cuz I’m only ten.”

Lucy bit back a smile. “Well, ten is an awfully young age to be doing such exciting things.”

The boy scratched his head. “No, it ain’t. I been on my own fer almost six years now, and I reckon I know what’s best for me better’n anybody.”

“You poor dear.” Lucy’s heart immediately went out to the little boy. On his own at the age of five! How did such a child survive?

“Well, gosh, don’t feel sorry fer me, lady. Being on the Siren with the cap’n was the most ’citing time I ever had. Outsailing them French corvettes and firing on that slave ship! You should’a been there!”

Lucy gave a start. “Firing on a slave ship? What do you mean?”

“Firing! So’s we could take over the ship. And half our guns was dummies too!” he added gleefully. “But the cap’n said they wouldn’t know it if we attacked just right, and sure ‘nough . . . And you should’a seen what he did to that slave cap’n. Scared him half to death by shooting a hole in his dinghy with all them sharks in the water. It was sure somethin’.”

“Sharks!” Lucy’s hand flew to her throat as she tried to make sense of what the boy was saying. “How horrible!”

“Aw, no, it weren’t horrible a’tall,” Jimmy said with a disgusted shake of his head. “He didn’t let the sharks
get
’im. He just wanted ta scare the daylights outta ’im. Said it was better’n the man deserved after what he done to all them slaves—
er,
not slaves but
Africans.
We saved their lives, sure ’nough.” His face clouded over for a second. “Well, as many as we could, anyways. Some of ’em was already dead when we brung ’em up from the hold. But the others are free now. That other captain took them back to Sara Long . . . Sara Layo . . . Sara—”

“Sierra Leone,” Lucy finished tonelessly. She could hardly bring herself to think what this meant.

“That’s it! Are you all right, lady? You look done in.”

“I-I’m fine, Jimmy. I—Where did the other lady take you?”

“She brung me to that room down there,” he said, motioning down the hall toward one of the guest bedchambers, “but she made a mistake. It’s a fancy room, and anyways, she says I have to have a bath before I can touch the bed. A bath! I just had one last week!”

Having regained her wits, Lucy smiled at the child, resisting the temptation to tousle his hair for fear he had lice. Mrs. Gray was right; a bath was definitely in order. “I’m afraid you’ll have to do as she said, Jimmy. She’s the boss.”

His eyes grew big. “She is? Will she make you take a bath too?”

Lucy laughed. “As a matter of fact, I think she will. I do believe water is being brought up for my bath now. Are you hungry?”

Jimmy licked his lips. “I sure am! We ate hours and hours ago, I think. At least it seems that way.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what. I’ll have the ‘boss’ take you downstairs just as soon as you’ve had your bath, and she’ll see that you get to eat until you’re stuffed. How’s that?”

“That’s great!”

“And perhaps I can rummage around and find you some nice, clean clothes, and maybe we’ll cut your hair and—”

“Gee, lady, I’m not gonna be here long enough fer all that. The cap’n promised to take me back home with ’em next week, and I can hardly wait. He’s gonna give me a real job, teach me a trade. I won’t be an errand boy anymore. I’m so excited I wish it was next week already!”