Page 49 of The Duke of Deceit

Circling the desk, he gave a terse nod and settled into his leather chair. “I’ve done more investigating. When a man has worked in my field for as long as I have, he develops a sixth sense about people, and there was something that struck me as odd about the way Lucien Grenier conducts his affairs. So I dug deeper.”

“And what did you discover?”

“He isn’t at all what you’ve been led to believe.”

She held her breath, prepared for the worst. “How so?”

“He’s nice.”

He was… Jess blinked.“Pardon?”

“I led you to the wrong conclusions about him. In actuality, he’s quite respectable.”

“But…but…” She didn’t know whether to lean forward and demand answers or sag back into the chair in utter disbelief. “He’s a terrible person! He fought as a mercenary during the wars, was expelled from university—frequents brothels and wagers fortunes on horses and cards. You’ve confirmed as much.”

“I did. But that appears to be only the surface.” With a chagrinned grimace, Stevenson reached for a file from the pile on his desk. “Hewasa mercenary, but only because his father made it impossible for him to gain a commission with the British. If he wanted to save Europe from Napoleon, that was his only way to do so.”

“Yes, I know.” Lucien had admitted as much to her at the garden party.

“But do you also know that he was a war hero?” He removed a piece of paper from the file and slid it across the desk to her. “This is a sworn statement from an officer who served with the Prussians alongside Crewe. He claims the man was a hero many times over, saving countless soldiers as well as women and children. Apparently, Crewe volunteered for the most dangerous missions to keep other men from having to do them, including reconnaissance deep behind French lines.”

Her head swam. She couldn’t imagine Crewe doing something so selfless. He must have craved violence. His past proved it, for heaven’s sake! “You said he became a mercenary when he was expelled from university for fighting.”

“He was expelled, that was true, and it was for fighting.” He placed another sheet of paper in front of her. “But he entered that fight to protect another student who was sickly, frail, and unable to defend himself. A group of older boys from the town had been picking on him for weeks. Crewe made it stop. When the dean wanted answers, Crewe took all responsibility and was expelled for it.”

She pressed her hand against her belly. She wasn’t prepared for this new picture of Lucien, not on the heels of the way he’d wounded her so callously in Lord Holkham’s garden.

“His good deeds continued after his return to London.” Mr. Stevenson added another piece of paper to the growing pile of unwelcome news. “He used the family fortune to make all kinds of charitable donations, especially to organizations dedicated to helping children and women. Clothing to the poor in rookeries, scholarships for orphans, donations to the New Lying-In Hospital—he completely outfitted a grammar school in Limehouse, right down to the desks and globe, then paid for the school’s two oldest boys to go into the navy once they finished their studies.” He tapped the piece of paper with his forefinger. “He even recently paid for a prostitute to travel to Yorkshire to return home to her family.”

Her mouth went dry. Had she truly been that wrong about him? And if she were wrong about this, what else had she been wrong about? “Then why doesn’t anyone know about this side of him?”

“He’s been keeping it secret.”

“Why?” she rasped out, unable to find her voice. “Why would he do something like that?”

“No idea.” Stevenson withdrew another paper and slid it across the desk to her. “Reports of his gambling have also been exaggerated. As far as I could calculate, he breaks even at the end of every evening.”

Her confusion deepened. “And the brothels? Is that information not true either?”

“No. Those he does venture into several nights each week.”

Relief washed over Jess. She knew it!Thank goodness. He truly was as black as she’d suspected. Otherwise, what she’d been doing to him these past weeks—

She would have deserved every bit of pain he’d inflicted in return.

“But he never—” Stevenson cut himself off, then cleared his throat. “He neverengageswith the women.”

She shook her head, confused. “Then what does he do there?”

He arched a brow. “Some of the women my men talked to claim he’s been teaching them to read.”

“But you don’t believe that?”

He smiled faintly. “Something like that is far too unlikely for any peer, even one with a charitable bent.” His amusement faded. “I have one more bit of information to share with you.”

She steeled herself as he placed a final sheet of paper on top of the growing stack. On it was written a single direction. In Ealing.

“What’s this?”