Duke of Deception (Wentworth Trilogy) (18 page)

He wondered how her father would feel if he knew the huge dowry he’d left, the dowry that was supposed to ensure her married future, had instead caused her to give up hope for such a life and settle for something less out of a sense of responsibility. His heart filled with compassion for her.

“I’m sure your father would be proud of you, but do you think his dream for you was the same as the dream for himself? Isn’t it possible he wanted you just to marry and have children and be well provided for?”

Lucy set her plate aside and took a long sip of champagne before answering. “You sound like my aunt. No doubt he wanted that for me, but the livelihoods of my tenants and servants and the villagers are at stake. Without the manor restored and carrying its load of the responsibility, the village will dry up, and most of the villagers have nowhere to go. Their families have been here for generations, hanging on through long periods when fields were fallow and the house in disrepair. Papa would first and foremost want to ensure their security, don’t you think?”

“What I think,” Derek said with careful consideration, “is that sometimes it’s hard to let go of someone else’s dream, at least when that person is no longer here to see it become reality. I’ve begun to realize that myself.”

“This wasn’t just my father’s dream, it was—
is
—mine too, and I don’t want to let go of it,” insisted Lucy. “Besides, it’s my responsibility to finish what he started because”—her voice caught with emotion—“Papa would be alive today if it weren’t for me.”

Derek sat up in surprise. “What do you mean?”

Lucy reached up and grasped the large locket that hung from a gold chain around her neck. He’d noticed the necklace many times; she was seldom without it.

“If I hadn’t complained about the broken latch on this locket, Papa wouldn’t have gone to London that day. He was taking it to a jeweler for repair, all because I had complained that the latch was stuck shut. If he hadn’t been on that road at that exact time . . . ” Her voice caught again and she looked away, but not before Derek saw the tears filling her eyes.

He reached for her hand and gave it a soft squeeze. “You aren’t responsible for what happened, Lucy. That highwayman would have struck the next week or the one after that. It’s the way they work. They stake out an area until they get what they want. Chances are your father would have been attacked the next time he went to London, regardless of when it was.”

“Perhaps. I don’t know,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “But I do know the broken latch wasn’t important. Just having the locket means everything. It’s precious to me because it belonged to my mother, and aside from her wedding dress, it’s all I have of her.”

She raised her unsteady gaze to his, all the sadness and heartache in her voice evident in her eyes, and he wished he could take her grief, or at least her guilt, away.

“Lucy, I may not know you very well, but I do know there’s not a selfish bone in your body. It’s perfectly natural for you to want to keep a precious keepsake in good repair.” He lifted the locket and rubbed his thumb across the flawlessly set gems. “It’s a beautiful piece. I assume they caught the thief with it?”

She shook her head. “He overlooked it. It was still in my father’s pocket. The highwayman was never captured.”

Odd, thought Derek, that a man would kill to rob and then not take what had to be the most valuable item on his victim. The rubies on the locket were genuine, as were the diamonds set around them. No highwayman would have overlooked such a valuable piece, especially if it was in the victim’s pocket. The thought caused him some unease, but he set it aside while he sought to comfort Lucy. He cupped her chin with a gentle touch and looked into shining blue eyes that glistened with tears. She’d carried this on her conscience for two years and though he doubted he could assuage her guilt, he would try.

“I’ve never believed in fate,” he said softly. “I think we make our own. But I do trust in God. We can’t always see the reason things happen, but I believe He has a purpose. Even more than that, I know your father would be deeply saddened that you feel responsible for his death. You were the most precious thing in his life, and he would want you to be happy. You owe him that much. You can’t change the past, but you can live for the future. Be happy, for his sake.”

Lucy nodded, fighting a sudden urge to burst into tears. She was comforted by Derek’s words, even though she’d as much as told herself the same thing without feeling any comfort at all. Indeed, when the thought had come from her, she’d felt selfish.

Derek made her believe in those words, and that confused her. Just moments ago she’d told herself he couldn’t be trusted, and now she believed him over herself, and that was why everything about him was so perplexing. One minute she didn’t trust him at all, certain he’d married her for some ulterior motive, and then the next minute she thought him wonderful. To complicate her confusion, she suddenly realized he’d done nothing to deserve her distrust.

Yes, there had been that stupid wager with Lord Aster, but men were always making stupid wagers, or so she’d been told by Sara, who said the betting books were filled with them. As for the maps, she hadn’t overheard enough of his conversation to truly know what he was talking about. Perhaps they were speaking of other maps, maps that had to do with his upcoming expedition. For all she knew, she could have jumped to conclusions about him that he didn’t deserve.

She took a deep drink of her suddenly full glass of champagne and continued to consider her husband’s trustworthiness. All she really knew about Derek was that he was a pirate—no, a
privateer,
a businessman at sea, really. She hadn’t actually heard the particulars of any terrible deeds. So he had plundered ships. That wasn’t against the law for a privateer. He had amassed fortunes. One could hardly plunder ships without amassing fortunes. He had bedded scores of women. It was perfectly understandable how he might have been forced to bed scores of women, for they probably would not leave him alone. What was it her aunt had said? That a woman would have to be dead to be immune to his charms? That was hardly his fault, was it? Her gaze was drawn to his face and to the strength that was projected from his strong jaw and silvery eyes. How could those women help themselves when he was so smart and so strong, when his caresses were so thrilling and his kisses so . . . so . . .

When Derek sat his empty glass down and leaned toward her, touching his lips to hers, Lucy could only respond one way. Honestly, giving herself up to the explosion of passion she felt, returning his kisses with ardor. His lips left her mouth to follow a trail along her jaw, and then he was nuzzling her ear and her neck, his strong arms holding her to him while jolts of pleasure washed over her in intense waves.

When his lips once more found hers, she was ready, more than ready, and she slid her arms around him, trying to draw him nearer. She parted her lips for him, seeking the wild, wanton rhythm of his kisses as his tongue plunged into her mouth and withdrew again and again.

Then he stopped and pulled back to look into her eyes.

The moment hung in the air as she fought for breath and tried to make sense of her feelings, of a desire so powerful that nothing, not logic nor fear nor any other known emotion, could diminish it. Then she quit trying to understand and simply pulled him to her so they could start all over again.

Her action wrung a groan from Derek, and he eased Lucy back onto the quilt, rolling them both over until he stopped above her, his thick arousal pressing insistently, sending a thrill through Lucy. His hand claimed her breast, kneading it gently, rubbing the pad of his thumb back and forth across the tingling, cloth-covered nipple. When he reached under her skirt and caressed her thigh, Lucy shuddered, remembering what had happened two nights earlier. She was wet, as she had been before. And so very eager. His finger slid into her, causing her breath to stop and then rush out with no control.

Dimly, in the background, she heard a horse whinny lightly, and she froze, trying to clear her muddled mind. She pushed Derek’s hand away, and then his body, and sat up, looking around anxiously while she straightened her clothes.

“Where’s Harry?” she asked, flustered by the realization of what they’d been about to do, and out in the open, no less!

“He’s gone back to the manor,” Derek murmured, reaching for her again.

“Well, other people can see us,” she said, darting uneasy glances about the empty meadow. A light breeze rustled the leaves overhead, the only other sound a far-off rat-a-tat-tat of a woodpecker. She jerked her head in the direction of the woods, scanning for movement.

“There aren’t any other people,” Derek replied, as he pulled her back towards him.

“There are plenty of people who might see us. Colin, Harry, the tenants . . . ”

“I gave everyone the afternoon off. Even the tenants aren’t allowed in this area today. I’ve taken care of everything,” Derek assured her.

Lucy whipped her head around and stared at him as the meaning of his words sank in. An overwhelming fury began to unfurl inside her. Had he made another wager with Lord Aster, or was he just trying to win consummation early because he planned to leave once he had the maps? Anger over his careful plan of seduction blotted out her passion as if it had never been.

Their entire relationship was obviously just a game to him, and she was nothing more than a prize. A prize that would, no doubt, be quickly tossed aside once won.

Well, she would just see about that. He wouldn’t find this prize so easy to win.

O
n the ride back to the house, Derek slid a glance toward Lucy, not knowing how to break the frigid silence between them. Things had been moving right along and then suddenly, for no reason, she’d insisted on returning to the house. His disappointment was keenly felt, so much so that the ride was damned uncomfortable.

If it weren’t for the two bright spots of color on her cheeks, he wouldn’t have known she’d been affected by their kissing at all, as strangely quiet as she was. He could understand why she might have been embarrassed, but his assurance that no one would disturb them had only made matters worse. In fact, she appeared angry with him.

Unsure of what to do next, he remained silent, hoping she would speak. Unfortunately, when she did, her tone left him with no misconceptions about her state of mind.

“It seems
everyone
didn’t take advantage of your generous offer,” she said coolly. “Colin didn’t, anyway.”

Derek’s sharp glance toward the stable took in a fair-haired, brawny young man hurrying their way, and his jaw tightened. “That’s Colin? That’s what you call a boy?” He didn’t remember meeting Colin at the wedding, and he damned well would have remembered if he had. The
boy
stood almost six feet with shoulders nearly as broad, and his bulging biceps looked ready to rip through the rolled-up sleeves of his thin cotton work shirt.

Derek raised his eyebrows and, putting on his most pompous air, looked down at Lucy, ready to remark on the size of the boy, but he was silenced by the loving smile on Lucy’s face, a smile he realized had never once been directed at him.

“Good afternoon, Colin,” Lucy called out in the sweetest of voices. “Could you help me down, please?”

Derek glared at Colin, about to tell him that
he
would help his wife down from the cart himself, but before he could say a word, the lad swung Lucy to the ground as though she were weightless. “Shouldn’t you introduce us?” His jaw was so tight it was all he could do to get the words out.

“This is Colin Logan, our stable boy,” Lucy said, her tone flat with indifference. “Colin, may I present Captain Wainright, my husband.”

Colin gave a brief nod in Derek’s direction, but his admiring look immediately swung back to Lucy.

Derek seethed at the cursory introduction. He was more than Captain Wainright. He was the Duke of Dorrington, and this so-called boy should be showing him respect. When this masquerade was over, his first action would be to get rid of Colin and bring in a real stable boy, not a man pretending to be a boy so he could watch someone else’s wife sashay about in tight breeches.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded of Colin. “I told everyone to take the afternoon off.”

Colin looked from Lucy to Derek in confusion, blanching at Derek’s ill temper. “I didn’t want to leave Kachina alone, sir.”

“Who’s Kachina?”

“She’s Lady Louisa’s mare, my lord—Captain. She’s breeding, sir.”

Derek narrowed his gaze, aware of Lucy’s critical stare yet unable to change his behavior. What if he had seduced Lucy under the tree? Would this boy have been watching, his eyes taking in every inch of Lucy’s bared body? The very thought made him hopping mad. He’d planned everything so carefully. Whoever heard of a servant refusing to take an afternoon off, anyway? What kind of servants did Lucy have around there?

“The next time I give an order, I expect it to be obeyed,” he ground out.

Lucy immediately turned to the boy. “Never mind, Colin. Thank you for being so attentive to Kachina. I’m sorry you had to miss an afternoon off, but I shall make it up to you.”

Derek was livid at the implication of her words. “I’ll speak with you in the study,” he snapped at her.

It was high time someone instructed Lucy in the proper behavior toward servants; obviously, no one had done so thus far. And what the hell was that boy doing, running around in a work shirt that showed his muscles like that? Derek spun on his heels and stalked toward the house.

Furious, he slammed the unattended door behind him and began pacing the hall. As he turned back toward the door, he caught a glimpse of himself in a large ivory-framed mirror that hung on the wall. A murderous glare stared back at him from a grimly lined face. Startled by his own reflection, he stopped, momentarily nonplussed. Then his features sagged.

What was happening to him? How could he let such a situation enrage him so? Was he angry because his plans had fallen through or jealous because a stable boy had a romantic crush on Lucy? From the thoughts running rampant through his mind, he knew it was both and that the emotions were equally childish.

He felt like beating his head against the wall. He should be used to situations not working out the way he expected, at least where Lucy was concerned. Always before, he’d made his plans, followed them to the letter, and enjoyed a great sense of satisfaction when everything happened exactly as he’d known it would. That changed once Lucy came into his life. Now he was lucky if he could even carry out his plans, let alone see them work out as expected.

As for the jealousy, what was going on there? He hadn’t been jealous of Pamela when he caught her in bed with another man. His pride had been injured, and he’d been angry. But jealous? No. What was it about Lucy that elicited such crude reactions on his part? She didn’t deserve his distrust and suspicions and he knew it.

Self-disgust diffused his anger, dissolving it as quickly as it had risen. He needed to overcome this character trait or he would never gain Lucy’s respect, and he realized he wanted her respect … very much.

At the sound of the front door opening and closing, he turned to see a weary Lucy trudging toward him. She looked sad rather than angry, and he decided to apologize before she had the chance to chastise him. Pushing open the double doors to the study, he stepped back respectfully to allow her entrance. A second later when he heard her strangled shriek, he charged through the doorway, then gaped in stunned silence.

The room had been ransacked.

Furniture was toppled and paintings were leaning against the walls. Leather-bound books that had previously filled the heavy oak bookcases lay in jumbled heaps. The drawers had been removed from the desk, their contents tossed about. Papers and account books lay strewn across the floor.

He looked at Lucy, who was wide-eyed with shock, and he watched, helpless, while she turned slowly in a circle, staring in disbelief. “I’ve been robbed.”

“You’ve been searched,” he amended, his mind racing through the possibilities. “We don’t know that anything was taken, but you should start checking. I’ll get Colin and we’ll take a look around, inside and out, to make sure the thief isn’t still here.”

He winced at her icy stare upon the mention of Colin and made his way to the door.

Left alone, Lucy stood in the middle of the room, gawking at the sight before her, feeling the same sickening fury she had felt upon her discovery of Derek’s scheme of seduction. It seeped through her body, leaving her shaking and weak.

He arranged for this,
she thought bitterly. This was why they had picnicked. He wasn’t trying to recreate a fond memory of her childhood, and he wasn’t trying to spend time with her. He needed the servants gone and her out of the way so he could have the room searched for the maps.

A glimmer of silver caught her eye, and she knelt to push away the papers that almost covered a small framed painting which was the exact likeness of one of her father’s handsome expressions, a smiling, charming-yet-empty gaze he reserved for strangers. An unbearable lump of sorrow constricted her throat, and a bleakness descended over her.

Oh, Papa. Why did you leave me to make my way alone?

She hugged the painting to her breast, unable even to cry. How she longed for his gentle guidance, his reassurance that everything would work out. How she wished she could ask him what to believe and how to react and whom to trust. But would he have told her the truth? Or would he have painted a rosy picture for her, much as the artist of this portrait had done?

She sat the picture on her desk and began to pick up books and mechanically place them on the shelves. The servants wouldn’t be back for hours, and there was no point in leaving the mess for them. The sooner the room was in order, the sooner she would know if anything was missing, though she didn’t expect to find anything gone. There was no doubt in her mind that the sought-after items were resting securely in her bedchamber safe.

D
erek hurried back to the study. A search of the immediate area had proved fruitless, and Colin reported seeing nothing out of the ordinary. There was no reason to doubt the stable boy, though it was odd that no carriage or horse had been sighted. Derek had asked Colin to make a round of the tenants to see if anyone had noticed strangers in the area.

A quick run-through of the house made the situation even more disturbing as none of the other rooms appeared to have been touched. The study was tucked away down a hall, leading him to believe that it had been the target all along. Deliberating on these facts, he entered the room, where he was met by a furious Lucy. She barely gave him a glance.

“Why did you give the servants the afternoon off?” she asked as she shoved books onto a shelf.

“I hope you aren’t implying I had something to do with this,” Derek said dryly. “If I wanted to search your study, I wouldn’t go to all this trouble. I’d search at night while you were asleep. Anyway, whatever you may have heard about me, I am not a thief.”

“How would I know what you are and are not?” she asked, her tone resentful. “I was forced to marry you without benefit of any knowledge of your past. For all I know, you could have one hundred wives with one hundred ransacked studies to your credit. And why shouldn’t I think you a thief? Already my Spanish lace pillow has disappeared. Perhaps I should count the silver too.” She snatched up a couple of books from the floor.

“Your—” Derek stopped as he realized which pillow she was referring to. If the situation weren’t so ridiculous, he would laugh out loud. Well, he wasn’t going to explain why he’d taken the pillow, at least not for another twenty years. But to know she thought him a thief …

“I didn’t steal your pillow and you can count the silver if you like. I admit I may have had an ulterior motive when I gave the servants a few hours off, but it had nothing to do with searching your study.”

Lucy slammed the books down on the desk and whirled to face him. “Why should I believe you? I’ve no proof anything you have told me thus far is true.”

“Why should I have to prove that anything about me is true? You’re the one who plotted out the scheme to trap me in marriage.
I’m
the injured party, not you.”

“You obviously think plenty of yourself! My
scheme,
as you like to call it, was to
avoid
marriage!” She grabbed up the books and thrust them onto the shelf.

“So you keep insisting, yet here we are.”

“Oh! I will not have this situation turned to your favor. You were the only person who knew in advance that the servants would be gone this afternoon. What do you have to say to that?”

Derek shrugged and picked up a painting, hanging it back on the wall. “That’s not entirely true. I arranged for our picnic lunch last evening in the village, and I did tell Mrs. Waverly of my plans. Perhaps she saw her chance and hired a gang of thieves to rob you.”

“You don’t know Mrs. Waverly very well, do you?”

“I was being sarcastic. You can’t believe I think she’d hire thugs to rob you.”

“That is not what I meant. You just happened to tell your plans to the one person who could spread the word throughout the village within the hour. By dawn the news was probably halfway to London. Who knows how far it traveled by noon?”

“Now you’re being ridiculous,” Derek said, “not that I doubt what you’re saying about Mrs. Waverly since I know how quickly stories can travel. But it wouldn’t make sense that someone heard of my plans and raced out here to rob you. Stonecrest Manor isn’t known for its expensive furnishings, and given the condition of your fields, no one would assume you had money hidden away. Besides, only the study was searched. The thief obviously expected to find whatever he was looking for here. The question is, what was he looking for?”

This wasn’t the way he’d intended to bring up her father’s maps, but it didn’t look as though he had a choice. Maybe he could bring it up in a roundabout way so she didn’t become suspicious.

“Yes, pray tell, what could he have been expecting to find?” She crossed her arms over her chest and stood waiting.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Why don’t you tell me? I am sure I should enjoy it so much more coming from your mouth.”

“I don’t know what you’re insinuating and quite frankly, I don’t want to play these games. If you have something to say, then, by God, say it.”

“All right, I will. Do you think the thief could have been looking for my father’s maps? The same maps I overheard you discussing with Lord Aster?”

Derek sighed. There was no use pretending he didn’t know what she was talking about now. He could, of course, feign innocence and say he’d been talking about some other maps, but he had a feeling that such a ploy would just get him deeper into trouble. He decided to tell her as much of the truth about the maps as he could without giving away his masquerade. If he wanted to take a look at them, it was the only way.

He nodded slowly. “Unless you know of something else the thief could be after.”

“Why? What do you know about Papa’s maps that I do not?”

Derek looked her squarely in the eye. Perhaps it was better that he share his concerns, especially since he wasn’t sure what was going on. She needed to be vigilant, vigilant about strangers, about her surroundings. Hell, she needed to be vigilant inside her own home.

“I don’t actually know anything about his maps. I’ve never seen them or heard anyone speak of them, but the circumstances of your father’s death, and Dorrington’s, plus the argument you say the two men had, make me suspicious.”