Duke of Deception (Wentworth Trilogy) (28 page)

“Please excuse me,” she said. “I have urgent business. You’re welcome to go on to Stonecrest and await Derek’s return.”

“Surely you’re not riding unaccompanied? I shall ride with you.”

“I’m sorry, but I insist on riding alone. If you’ll excuse me . . . ” She nudged Ahote with her knees.

A gunshot rang out and Ahote reared, nearly unseating Lucy, and then the horse leapt forward, taking off across the field toward the woods. Lucy hung on, hoping Ahote would settle down, but in the meantime, his movements were so erratic she couldn’t anticipate a single one. Once or twice when he suddenly changed directions, she thought she might lose her seat, and she held tight to reins and pommel, unable to try for a successful roll off Ahote’s back. Finally, as the horse skirted the edge of the woods, she felt him beginning to tire and was able to catch her breath.

She glanced back to see Stephen not far behind and signaled that she was all right. A split second later there came the crack of another gunshot, this one much closer and louder, and Ahote reared so high that he almost fell over backwards before taking off at a gallop into the woods. Seconds later Lucy was struck by a low-hanging branch and knocked off the horse, her last conscious thought being she’d never catch up to Derek now.

D
erek recognized the sedate black and gold-trimmed town coach parked at the front steps of Stonecrest the moment he crested the hill. Dread mingled with dismay as he realized what it meant.

So much for his plan of
letting
Lucy explain. The tables had turned. If she knew about his deceit, and she undoubtedly did,
he’d
be the one doing all the explaining.

He gritted his teeth at this turn of events. He wished he’d never thought of the blasted masquerade. As Stephen had said all along, he had no business dealing with smugglers. He’d wanted to carry on his father’s work as some kind of testament to the man and, just as importantly, as proof that he was a worthy son, but in reality, his father had been foolish to spend so much of his time, effort, and money trying to track down a gang of criminals. And he’d been just as foolish to try to finish the job his father started.

He had more important responsibilities, ones that were his alone, and he was an idiot for taking so long to figure that out. He would tell Lucy everything, even though he hadn’t told Stephen the masquerade was over, but it couldn’t be helped. If he and Lucy were to have any future, he’d have to come clean. So would she.

Strangely enough, no one opened the front door, so Derek pushed through it and heard excited voices drifting from the drawing room. He hurried in that direction, steeling himself for what was sure to come. The door was ajar and he stood listening, hoping to hear the tone of Lucy’s voice so he’d know exactly how to approach her.

Unfortunately, the only voice he could make out was his mother’s, which wasn’t surprising under the circumstances. She had a tendency to jabber when nervous, and if finding out that her son was masquerading as an American privateer wasn’t enough to make her nervous, then the fact that he had taken a wife certainly would be. He took a deep breath and calmly entered the drawing room, prepared to take control.

“Jonathan!” his mother instantly exclaimed. “Where have you been? We’ve all been waiting for you!”

Derek glanced around at the inhabitants of the room, which included Lucy’s aunt, Jimmy, and more than half the servants. The clamor stopped abruptly at his appearance, and everyone began bowing and curtseying in such a comedic way he was almost forced to laugh. He allowed himself a single grunt instead. Nodding at them so they could stop their ridiculous displays of respect, he turned to his mother. “What, may I ask, are you doing here? Did Curtis send you?” If his steward had told her about the masquerade, he would never see the huge bonus Derek had promised.

His mother gave him a peeved look. “James? Of course not, and that is something I wish to discuss with you. I do
not
appreciate being lied to. It is extremely rude of James to insist he knows nothing of your whereabouts when we both know good and well that he does. He should tell the truth and say he
knows
where you are but won’t
tell
me. At least that I can tolerate!”

“Anything else?” Derek asked dryly. “Where’s my wife?”

“And that is another thing,” his mother continued. “Naturally, I am thrilled that you have married, but in such a manner. I wanted a big wedding. Then there is the matter of your wife’s reputation. There is no doubt in my mind who is responsible for that. I tried to tell you things are not the same here as in—”

“Mother, I haven’t time to chit-chat just now,” Derek said in exasperation. “You broke news to my wife that should have come from me, and if I know her at all, she’s furious about it.”

“You are exactly right, Jonathan. She
was
furious about it, but she couldn’t stay to discuss it. She had an appointment and she—”

“Where? Where was her appointment?”

“Now, how should I know that?” his mother asked. “I only just met the girl, though I will say she is very lovely, and I am certain once I get to know her, I will love her just as much as—”

“Mother, please.” He looked at Eleanor. “What appointment?”

Eleanor shook her head. “I know of none. I’ve rung for Bridget. Lucy most likely took to bed with a headache. This excitement would be enough to give anyone a headache.”

By the time Bridget arrived, the conversation had escalated to a miniature roar, with everyone talking excitedly, and, as Derek noticed, with more of them doing the talking. Every servant in the house, along with several of the tenants, had squeezed into the drawing room, and oddly enough, neither Eleanor nor his mother seemed to care. He rubbed his temples, wondering if it might not be a good idea to down a stiff drink, or maybe two.

Bridget sauntered into the room and shook her head emphatically when asked of Lucy’s whereabouts. “She’s not in her bedchamber, Captain.”

His mother twittered. “
Captain.
It sounds so odd to hear someone call you that, though I know you were a captain in America—”

“He sure is, ma’am!” Jimmy’s high-pitched voice interrupted, though Derek could no longer find the little boy in the crowd that surrounded his mother. “You should’a seen him on that slave ship. He almost split open that sailor’s guts right there on the deck, and then—”

His mother’s mouth dropped open and she clapped her hand over it, her eyes bulging in alarm. “My goodness!” she said. “I will not countenance this sort of talk. Perhaps you
were
a captain, but now you are the Duke of Dorrington, dear, and you simply must act so.”

Bridget, who had not heard the news, fell into an awkward curtsey and gazed up at Derek with adoring eyes.

He rubbed his throbbing head.

“That will do, Bridget. If she’s not in her bedchamber, where is she?”

Everyone started talking at once.

“Quiet!” Derek commanded in his captain’s voice, and the room fell into silence. “Bridget, where is she?”

“I don’t know, sir—my lord—
er,
your
Grace.
She must have changed into her trousers because her gown is on the floor right where she left it.”

“Bridget!” Eleanor chastised the maid’s mention of the distinctly unmentionable subject of a lady undressing.

“Trousers?” asked Derek’s mother in a dazed voice. “Oh, Jonathan, did you hear that? She wears
trousers.”

At the same time that Derek said, “Yes, Mother,” another man’s voice said, “Yes, my dear.” Derek whipped his head around in the direction of the voice. In the shadows near the wall stood a man as tall as Derek. When the man stepped into the light, Derek was struck dumb.

“Oh, dear,” his mother said with a nervous giggle. “For a moment there, I forgot you are both Jonathans. You won’t remember Jonathan Summerfield, my dear,” she said to Derek, though her adoring gaze was still on Summerfield. “You were only six years old the last time he visited Dorrington, but he so wanted to accompany me here today.”

Derek stared in fascinated silence at the gentleman with silver-gray eyes that could have been reflecting back from his own face, had he been looking into a mirror. In fact, he
was
looking into a mirror, except the man was twenty or so years older, with bits of silver threaded through his dark hair. In that moment Derek understood exactly why his father had hated Summerfield, and the reason had nothing to do with smuggling.

His entire masquerade came crashing down around him as he realized the man he assumed to be the leader of a smuggling gang was guilty of nothing more than bedding his mother—and siring the heir to the Dorrington dukedom. No wonder his father had hated Derek! No wonder he had preferred Anthony! No wonder he sent Derek off to America and never bothered to contact him again!

He swung his stunned gaze to his mother, who had the grace to blush, but when she raised her eyes to meet Summerfield’s, her face shone with such love for the man that Derek could hardly hold anything against her. Still, he staggered with the knowledge he’d gained in the past two minutes.

Before he could say a word, attention turned toward the door as shouts filled the outside hall. Colin burst into the room, yelling, “Captain, Ahote’s back!”

Colin’s terrified gaze settled on Derek. “He’s alone, Captain, and he’s acting ever so crazy! Hurry!” Colin turned around and took off at a run toward the back of the house.

Derek raced after him, his heart pounding. The horse was alone. Lucy must have taken a fall. Fear rushed through him as he realized Lucy must be unconscious or injured badly enough that she could neither walk nor pull herself onto her horse.

He dashed outside and leapt onto Ahote’s back, hoping, as the horse immediately charged toward the path into the woods, that Ahote knew where Lucy was and would take him there. All the possibilities flew through his mind. Lucy could be injured or dead, and the unspeakable thought sent a wave of terror through him. She had to be all right. She had to be, or he couldn’t bear it.

Fear pumped furiously through his veins, and as the stallion veered off to the left along a narrow path, Derek realized he was doing something he hadn’t done since he was a child.

He was praying. He was praying for Lucy. Praying she was safe.

T
he hazy fog began to lift from Lucy’s mind and she tried to focus on the dim blur of light to her left. It grew brighter and its edges became more defined until it turned into a window. Disoriented, she studied her surroundings. She was lying on an old cot in an almost-empty, dimly lit cottage. The old gardener’s cottage. She moved to sit up, then cried out at the searing pain that shot down her leg.

“Lucy!” Stephen hurried in from outside, a knife in his hand. “Don’t try to move, at least not until we see how badly your leg is injured. It’s bleeding. I’m afraid I’ll have to cut away your trousers from the knee down. It can’t be helped; the injury needs to be bound.”

Lucy stared at the crimson stain on her trouser leg and remembered everything. “Ahote—is he all right?”

“Who?”

“Ahote. My horse.”

“Haven’t seen him since he took off. What the deuce happened to him, anyway? I thought at first that one of the hunters had nicked him, but he could certainly buck and gallop just fine.”

“He’s terrified of gunshots. He can’t help it.”

“His fear almost got you killed, Lucy. You took a bad fall. I was beginning to think you would never come to.”

“How long was I unconscious?”

“About five minutes, but it seemed like five hours. I was planning to go for help, but I didn’t want you to wake up alone. Then I saw the blood. Here, hold still while I cut.” He lifted up the material and cut it halfway up her thigh.

Lucy flushed with heat. She hadn’t expected him to cut so far up since the injury seemed to be at the knee, and he was cutting in a most unseemly manner, she decided as his fingers skimmed her bare skin. He was a man, after all, and not her husband.

“There!” Stephen held up the material. “You see,” he said, pointing to a jagged rip in the material, “it’s torn there. You must have struck a rock when you landed. Now, let me take a look.” He poured water onto his handkerchief and wiped the blood away from the wound.

Lucy steeled herself against the pain and pushed herself up to look. Her leg wasn’t bleeding any longer and it didn’t look so terribly bad. “I don’t think you need to bind it,” she said. “Why don’t you go for help? If you follow the path through the woods, you’ll come out to an empty field on the other side. From there you can see the stable.”

It seemed a much better idea to have Stephen go for help than to stay with her. His manner was unnerving. He was sitting so close to her she could smell the scent of cologne mixed with sweat, could see the gold flecks in his brown eyes, eyes that held a strange expression.

Stephen’s lips curled. “I insist on binding the wound first. It might start bleeding while I’m gone, and Derek wouldn’t like that, would he?” His eyes never left Lucy’s as he reached up to the third button of his shirt and unbuttoned it.

Lucy’s stomach knotted. “What are you doing?”

“I have to bind your leg with something, don’t I?”

She was suddenly aware that Stephen wasn’t completely dressed. When had he unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt and where were his cravat and waistcoat? She tried to remember how he’d been dressed on horseback, but couldn’t recall. She’d been too busy studying his expression and manner.

He tugged his shirt out of his trousers and it fell open, revealing a well-muscled, masculine chest. Lucy’s throat was suddenly dry. She tried to sit up straight, but it was impossible without leaning into him, he was so close. The intense expression in his eyes now seemed almost crazed, and she sought a grip on her wild imagination. He was trying to help, that was all. That must be all. He wouldn’t dare compromise her; Derek would kill him.

She took a fortifying breath, knowing he couldn’t hear the thudding of her heart. “I’d rather you didn’t bind it. I’d rather you go to Stonecrest and bring help. Really, Stephen, I would much prefer it, and-and you don’t want to ruin your expensive shirt.”

He smiled and placed his hand on her leg, just below her knee. “Perhaps you have a garment I might use, something
you
could remove.”

His gaze slid over her, and Lucy felt another flush of heat that started in her chest and spread to the roots of her hair. No gentleman would ask a lady to remove articles of clothing under any circumstance, and the fear she’d been trying to stave off hit her full force, sending shivers of alarm along her spine and throughout her body.

“I d-don’t have anything you c-can use,” she stammered. “I don’t want you to wrap my leg at all, I tell you. I just want you to go for help.”

“Are you saying you aren’t wearing any garments other than your shirt and trousers, or that you simply refuse to give them to me?”

She stared, unable to force her mouth open for a reply.

“Are
you wearing anything under your shirt?”

“I-I won’t answer such a question and you shouldn’t ask it.”

“Take it off.”

She shook her head and tried to edge back on the cot, but there was nowhere to go.

Stephen snickered. “You’re only putting off the inevitable. You have no choice but to do as I say. I am, after all, bigger and stronger than you, and . . . I have a knife.”

He held up the knife, and she stared at the honed blade as fingers of fear clutched at her heart. Panic welled up in her when she realized no one would hear her if she screamed.

“You must stop this,” she pleaded. “Think of what you’re doing. Your reputation—think of your sister. You should leave now, before anyone comes. Please, just go. I promise I won’t say anything if you’ll just go. Someone is coming for me. Ahote will have returned to Stonecrest and someone is surely coming now.”

“You give your stable boy too much credit. He won’t know what to do or where to go. As far as anyone knows, you took the road to London to catch up to your husband; that is, if you told anyone of your plans. Either way, no one will look for you here.” He slid a finger along the skin of her bared thigh.

“Ahhh, lovely Louisa,” he said softly. “I’ve dreamed about this ever since that night at dinner, when you flirted with me from across the table at the Bellingham house party. I’m sure you’ve dreamed about it too.”

“I d-don’t—you mistook my meaning.” Self-recrimination invaded her panic. That blasted flirting. This might be all her fault. She had no idea flirtatious behavior affected men in such a manner. Oh, why had she gone along with Isabelle’s plan?

Stephen smiled shrewdly. “You may protest all you like, if it makes you feel better, but we both know the truth. Your illness, your
miscarriage,
if I may be so bold, was badly timed, wasn’t it? For both of us. Even so, I thought I would sneak back around that night after I took Isabelle home. I would have, if you hadn’t alerted me to the bodyguard. I could always count on Derek to make things difficult.”

“I don’t understand. I never flirted with you, not really. Please . . . ”

“Come, now. We both know better. I spent that entire dinner in a state of arousal. Watching you, wanting you. I had to stay seated for a full ten minutes after you left, lest everyone see the evidence of my thoughts.”

“Y-you misunderstood. I was flirting to make Derek jealous . . . ” Her words died away when Stephen’s features twisted into what she’d come to recognize as jealous rage. “Please,” she whispered. “Derek will kill you for this.”

“I don’t think we have to worry about him. He won’t be back.
Ever.”

“What do you mean?” A sob caught in her throat. “You didn’t . . . ”

Stephen chuckled. “Do I look like a murderer to you? Does that look like the hand of a murderer?” he asked, nodding toward the hand splayed across her thigh. He stroked her skin, inching his fingers upward under the shortened trouser leg. “It’s the hand of a lover, and I’m just as good a lover as Derek, you know. I’ve had all the women he’s had. More, in fact. Countless more. In England, anyway. Except for you. I would tell you to ask any one of them about my prowess, but you’ll find out for yourself soon enough.”

Lucy fought hysteria. She could no longer even think of what might happen to herself as her fear for Derek took over all thought. “What about Derek?” she asked, swallowing another panicked sob. “What did you mean about Derek?”

“Oh,
that.
He’s going to meet with an accident on his way back.”

“Back from where? When? What will happen?”

Stephen smirked.
“If
I knew exactly where and when, I wouldn’t tell you. My
messenger
lies in wait even now. But I’m so glad it’s to happen on his way
back
to Stonecrest. I did so want to make sure he got to my town house and read the note I left for him, the one that says I’m making love to his wife at this very moment. Just imagining his rage makes this exciting beyond belief. He was outraged when he read the note I had delivered, wasn’t he?”

Blood pounded in Lucy’s ears as she tried to think of something, anything, to deter Stephen. “Why are you doing this? Derek is your friend.”

“Not friend. Never friend. I was never in his league,” Stephen said bitterly. “They made fun of me in school.”

“Those were schoolboy antics. You’re men now. He thinks highly of you, very highly of you.”

“I’m tired of talking about Derek. Neither you nor I can do anything about his fate. All we can do is enjoy this time together, and it will be so much more enjoyable for you if you don’t fight me, Lucy. I would really hate to hurt you,” he added, pushing her back against the cot.

With her only thought being that she must get to Derek in time, she struggled against Stephen, using all her strength, but he merely laughed. He grabbed both her wrists in one hand and pushed her back, forcing her arms above her head.

“Unless you want me to bind your hands, you should cease resisting, my dear. Really, you’ll enjoy this so much, you won’t mind at all.”

He pinned her against the cot and lowered his head. She felt hot breath on her neck, and a wave of nausea sickened her stomach. She prayed to God to help her get through this. She knew she could do it if only Derek would be waiting when it was over. But if what Stephen said was true, Derek would never be there again. She would never see his teasing smile, never feel his strong arms around her.

A suffocating despair squeezed her heart. She had finally realized that all she wanted for the rest of her life was to love Derek and be loved by him, but now he too would be taken from her. She didn’t want to go on without him, without sharing all the good and the bad of both their lives, and so she changed her prayer.

She prayed that she would die.