What the Duke Wants (35 page)

“I’m sorry, Lady Beatryce, but you’re confusing me with someone who gives a damn.”

He turned his back on her, prepared to leave.

“Wait.”

Despite his better judgment, he stopped. It wasn’t the force of her command that halted him, but the quiet, yet resigned confidence he detected in her voice. He turned to face her, his hands on his hip, brow raised in question.

“I can help you, if you help me. I can…I can lead you to what you need to know…to solve your investigation. I know where my father keeps his secret papers.”

He was shocked. How the hell could she possibly know? He reached her in two long strides and grabbed her. He gripped her harshly, shaking her in his anger.

“Tell me what you know. Tell me now!” he yelled.

She held her hand up to shut him up. “Shhhh. Are you crazy? Lower your voice. First, get me out of here, safely and without being seen, and then I’ll tell you what I know. Not before. And be quick about it.”

He growled in frustration. She stood with her arms crossed, seemingly at ease and in command of the situation, but he noticed she kept looking at the door, fear flitting across her face with each glance.

Damn. He had no choice. He had to pursue any lead.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

He held out his hand. She took it without hesitation.

* * * *

Oxford…

He’s likely married by now
. Grace wasn’t sure exactly what time the festivities were to take place; she hadn’t been invited, of course, but she knew it was today—and it nearly killed her, the pain was so powerful.

She hadn’t bothered to get out of bed today—there was no way she would be able to see people with a smile on her face knowing that inside, her heart was breaking all over again.

Logic couldn’t mend a broken heart, though it did stop her from making a fool of herself by flying back to London to beg him to take her back—not that it would have stopped the impending nuptials, but when you’re heartbroken things rarely made sense.

She could just imagine how handsome he looked in his wedding finery. Perhaps he’d wear an emerald pin in his cravat to match his eyes. She rolled over and punched her fist into her pillow. How ridiculous was she to torment herself so by thinking such things?

She buried her face in her pillow to muffle her scream. Her bedroom door clicked open.

“Oh, B-Bessie, I’ll be f-fine. I’ll be d-down in a bit. Maybe. Eventually,” came her muffled, sob-broken voice.

Male laughter made her jerk her head up in surprise. Had she finally lost her mind in her grief? It couldn’t be him. He was probably on his way to his honeymoon by now.

“Actually, I’m not. And yes, I am really here.”

Goodness, was she talking to herself? Out loud? She closed her eyes, but the tears fell regardless. She must be dreaming, but she didn’t want to be.

“Yes, you are, and no, you’re not dreaming, my love. I really am here.”

She felt the bed dip as Ambrose sat beside her. She still hadn’t looked away from her headboard—afraid to see an empty room and know for sure she was going mad. Now, with the undeniable evidence of the added weight to the side of the bed, she rolled over to her side and looked up at him.

There he was—looking down at her with love and tenderness in his eyes.

“Ambrose? How?”

She reached out to touch him, though still afraid she’d find he was a figment of her imagination.

“I’m not going to marry Beatryce, my sweet. In fact, I quite rudely left her standing at the altar…literally—well, hopefully Dansbury caught up with her and explained the way of things first; I didn’t really have the time. I came here as fast as my horse could run.”

“The way of things?”

Good God—it was like when they had first met in the garden so many months ago. Her brain was racing, unable to make sense of what was happening, unable to form coherent words, yet trying to process it all.

“Silly woman. Don’t you know? I love you.”

He slid off the bed and knelt beside it.

“Grace, I want to spend my life making you…us…our children…happy. I was cold and lonely—miserable—before I met you and you gave me a glimpse of how different—how much better—life was meant to be. I thought I knew what I wanted, but I was wrong. Now I know. All I want is you and the life we could have together. I never expected it to happen this way, but I can’t bear to wait anymore. Will you make me the happiest of men? Will you marry me?”

She was stunned. There was no other way to describe it. She searched his eyes for the truth behind his words. His true desire. His words were more beautiful than she could have ever dreamt—words she had longed to hear so many times—including mere minutes ago. So why wasn’t she throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him relentlessly between frantic screams of “yes”? It was what her instinct and her heart told her to do. It was what she wanted; yet still she hesitated.

“I’m not sure. Oh, how many times have I dreamt of hearing you say those words? And now that you’ve said them, I’m not sure. I don’t know.”

He lost the smile. She was sure he wasn’t expecting her not to say yes.

“Grace, you love me. We love each other. I…”

“I know I do. I know you think you do. But is love enough? I need to know what kind of man you are. I thought I knew. The man I saw when I gave myself to you was the man of my dreams. But your actions after make me wonder if I only saw what I wanted to believe. Who are you, really, and do you even know?”

“I see.”

“I don’t see how—I’m sure I don’t. I can’t believe I’m saying this at all. I’ve been crying all night over the thought of you marrying Beatryce. I love you. But just like you thought you had to put aside your wants for the good of the estate, I find myself needing to make this decision with my head and my heart. My heart says yes, of course, yet you’ve been a certain type of man for most of your adult life. That day we spent together, when you pretended you were not the duke, I saw a man who was so much more. A man with compassion and strength. That is the man I need and who I want to be the father of my children. But is that man you?”

“Yes. I know it is. But let me show you. Come back to London with me. I’ll prove it. I know it’s inconvenient, but please, just believe in me.”

Chapter 28

The Duke’s London House, Stonebridge House…

Two days later, the afternoon…

Grace and Stonebridge arrived at the duke’s London mansion two days later. On the way, he received a note from Cliff urging him to return to his London home post haste. Therefore, they went to Stonebridge House rather than to Aunt Harriett’s house as planned.

He walked into the foyer and asked after Cliff.

“Lord Dansbury is in the green room with our guest,” replied Ledbetter, his butler.

“Who is our guest, Ledbetter?”

“I couldn’t say for sure, Your Grace, but she appears to be a lady.”

“Interesting. Incidentally, do you have the morning paper on hand, Ledbetter?”

“Yes, of course, Your Grace.”

“Good. Find the society pages and bring them to Miss Radclyffe. We’ll be in the green room.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

He and Grace climbed the two flights of stairs to the second floor which contained the guest rooms, including the green room, their curiosity piqued.

At the end of the hall, he could see Cliff pacing the floor outside a closed door. His friend was visibly agitated.

At their approach, Cliff looked up and acknowledged them with a nod, before he crossed his arms and leaned back against the door. As if he hadn’t just been pacing the floor and mumbling to himself a few minutes ago.

He was surprised to see him so disturbed; he had never seen Cliff behave that way before.

Stonebridge, who hadn’t stopped grinning since he decided not to marry Beatryce, spoke up. “I understand we have an unexpected guest.”

“We do. She promised me concrete evidence. She all but guaranteed she could solve our investigation, but that was two days ago. If she tells us anything before I throttle her, it will be a bloody miracle.”

He and Grace shared a curious glance. Right.

“May I?” he inquired, reaching for the door.

“By all means,” said Cliff, whose face darkened with a scowl as he moved out of the way.

The door swung open to reveal Beatryce tied to a chair and gagged. Her eyes blazed with fury; her daggers sought out and aimed their threat at Cliff. She thrashed in anger and screamed through the cloth covering her mouth.

He wanted to fall to the floor, laughing, at the sight. Instead, he said, “I’m not surprised she hasn’t told you anything.” To Beatryce, he added, “Can I count on you to be civil if I remove this?” He pointed to the cravat being used as an effective muffler to her ire.

She offered one final scowl to Cliff before she looked back at him and nodded once.

“Excellent.”

* * * *

Stonebridge removed the cravat from Beatryce’s mouth and stood back. She flexed her jaw and glared at Cliff as she poked her tongue into the corners of her sore mouth. His friend’s scowl darkened in return.

Huh. His usually affable friend was acting deuced odd today.

Lady Beatryce turned away from Cliff and faced him. “I know you’re investigating my father, and I know why. I can lead you to the evidence you need to put him away. Or better yet, hang him.”

“Yes? And how did you come by all this information?”

“I notice e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g. I’ve seen the men watching my house; I’ve watched Dansbury searching my house.” She shot Cliff a mocking brow as she said that. “And I know all about my father’s involvement with the Society for the Purification of England. I know where he keeps his papers, including all of their silly, idiotic little Writs of Execution where they spell out who they intend to murder and why.”

“I see.” He stifled his excitement over the depth of her knowledge. “And what do you want in exchange for this information?” Finally, they would have proof!

She bit her lip for a moment, then visibly firmed her resolve. “Money.”

“Hell—of course,” Cliff interjected with a curse.

He held up his hand to forgo further outbursts from his friend.

Beatryce glared at Cliff and shouted, “Don’t you
dare
judge me right now. I am putting my life on the line for your treasured Grace and your precious case.”

She cleared her throat. She looked back at him and calmly continued, “And I want safe passage out of town; a quiet home to go to in the country; simple country clothes; and a new identity.”

Cliff, who was back to leaning against the door, arms crossed, asked, “How do we know you aren’t just as guilty as your father? I mean, it’s clear you knew of his guilt and yet you’ve never said anything before now? Sounds highly suspicious to me.”

She shot daggers at Cliff, again, before returning her attention to him. “Does he really need to be here?”

He barked out a laugh. “Probably not, but I’m just going to tell him everything anyway, so this saves time. Just answer the question: you must admit, your knowledge does cast you in a questionable light.”

“I only discovered all of this recently—when I started to realize that my marriage plans were on shaky ground.” She gave him a quick scowl over that. “I knew my father was behaving strangely…well, stranger than normal…and I had noticed peculiar men watching the house—so I set out to determine why. I broke into his office, found his hidden box, and picked the lock. Imagine my surprise at all I discovered, including that my father was behind the deaths of your father…and hers.” She nodded at Grace.

Grace gasped.

“You didn’t tell her, I see.”

“Shut up!” yelled both men as Ambrose raced to comfort Grace.

“Grace, darling, we suspected the possibility, but we didn’t know for sure.”

Grace looked up at him with tears swimming in her eyes. He pulled her close and closed his arms around her. “Had I had proof…had I known for certain…Oh, Grace, I wouldn’t have had you find out this way.”

“I know…I know…Oh, poor Papa…” came her muffled reply.

He pulled back, looked down at her, and brushed away the tears that had fallen. “Do you want to leave? Maybe you shouldn’t be here.”

She looked over at Beatryce before saying, “Yes. Perhaps that would be best.”

He started to leave with her, but she stopped him. “I’ll be fine, Duke. You stay here. It’s simply the shock coupled with the long journey. Not to mention everything else.”

“All right, I’ll ring for someone to escort you to a room where you can refresh and relax.”

“That would be wonderful.”

As Grace made to leave, she stopped in front of Beatryce and said, “Thank you for coming forth and telling us what you know.”

Beatryce squirmed in her chair, clearly speechless and discomfited by Grace’s kindness. He watched with pride swelling in his chest.
Well done, woman, well done.

Once she was gone, he turned to Beatryce and suppressed his anger at the callous way in which she imparted her knowledge. “All right, now, tell us what we need to know.”

She raised her chin. “First, I have one more condition. Once the arrangements are made for my passage out of town, I want him to take me.” She nodded at Dansbury.

“Like hell!” shouted Cliff.

Stonebridge gave his friend a speaking look for the unusual outburst. “Are you sure that’s wise, Lady Beatryce?”

“No. But he’s the only one I trust to keep me safe.” She’d hesitated before uttering the word trust. “You must understand. My father is incredibly guilty and has done some horrid things, but I’m telling you someone else is out there pulling his strings. I don’t know who—I’ve not an inkling, but think about it. My father can barely get out of his bed without assistance. He’s out of breath just walking from the drawing room to the library. He’s weak. I can’t speak of the time when your father was killed, but any move he’s made recently has been done out of fear and a touch of insanity. Someone else is behind all this.”

“Done.” He didn’t hesitate.

“What?” shouted Cliff; the man looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. Perhaps he had.