Page 39 of The Duke Decides

Her eyes flew open in the darkness. She hadn’t thought about preventing a child, and perhaps she ought to have. She only knew she hadn’t borne a babe to her husband. But what if the fault had not been hers, all that time?

“Stay with me,” he whispered as the wick in the lamp finally gave up and sputtered out, and darkness enclosed the room. “Stay with me always.”

She didn’t answer, because she wouldn’t lie to him. But she knew she couldn’t stay anywhere.

She loved him. She loved him to the depth of her being. But she couldn’t keep him—he wasn’t hers—and she couldn’t stay.

Chapter Twelve

“A man to see you, mum,” Alice said, poking her head into the office.

Louisa glanced at the door behind her, standing partly open. Beyond lay her bedchamber, with Gabe in her bed. He was sleeping, or had been, though she planned to wake him soon to take a light midday meal. Then he would complain about enforced inaction, but Nan had decreed he should rest and give his ribs time to heal, and Nan’s ruling had been endorsed by the prim and terrifyingly efficient young man, identifying himself as Orde, who had called that morning to bring Gabe a change of clothes and linens.

Gabe grumbled at Sister Nan and rained threats upon Orde, but he submitted to staying in bed when Louisa administered kisses, and she supposed she might be called upon again to provide her own particular treatment when he awakened. Her insides warmed at the thought.

She would find a way to explain to the Sisters why she was offering her bed chamber as an infirmary. He was a duke, the highest peer in the realm. Perhaps that was reason enough.

“Did my caller give a name?” Louisa asked.

“You may tell her,” said the man stepping into the room, “I have the distinction of being Lord Véritè.”

Louisa rose. She recognized him without the mask. Her quill fell on the desk through fingers gone suddenly numb.

“You are no lord,” she spat.

“No,” he admitted, then smiled. “Not yet.”

Louisa positioned herself between her and the door to the bedchamber so he couldn’t make any sudden movements toward Gabe. His smile widened as he watched her. He circled a signet ring on his finger, and the realization drummed through her head so hard that she felt momentarily dizzy.

Gabe’s cousin Fenton was Lord Véritè. Her adversary as well.

“How?” she asked first. She could be ashamed of herself later, that her first reaction was a selfish one, solely attuned to her own interests. “How did you find out about me?”

“Oh, so it is true.” He raised a set of dark brown brows. He looked nothing like Gabe, who possessed a dark, sleek beauty. His cousin was shorter, slender, almost finely made. His blond hair and classical features had likely seduced many a maiden and made him many a friend. But Louisa saw the blankness in his blue eyes. He was a man consumed wholly by his own wants and could see nothing else in his purview.

“I admit to a great deal of guessing. One of your nuns here—one of the older ones—she heard things when you first came. Had her suspicions, from comments you made, and from your possessions. Also, it would seem, you talk in your sleep.”

His expression turned wolfish, predatory. “She wasn’t most pleased when you were elected Matron above her. She’s been here longer, served her whole life, she said. Of course she’s too pious to go against you to your face. But when I came and asked around, requested a tour, mentioned the possibility of moving to a new property, under new ownership—she seemed to welcome the idea of a change.”

Louisa’s heart sank in her chest, twisted. “Sister Agatha,” she murmured.

He nodded. “Seemed to think she might be elected Matron, were unfortunate circumstances to—remove you.”

Her skin crawled at the condescending leer that accompanied “unfortunate circumstances.” She straightened her back. “And if I do not leave?”

He seemed truly surprised. “What do you suppose would happen if you stayed, and the truth were known about you? Our William, King who is to be, might decide to send you to France for justice. He’ll want to make a gesture to Charles X that shows his power.”

Louisa lifted her chin. She knew better than to show weakness, though her heart trembled in her chest like a hare in the hunt. “And if the King of France does not care what happened to a friend of Napoleon, all those years ago?”

Fenton’s smile showed his teeth. “The Grenay family might care. I made inquiries. You destroyed them. Killed the head of the household, left no proper heir—it’s been a miserable fight for his remaining family to try to hold their place. They would be happy to have some revenge.”

Louisa curled her hands into fists. “William, if he becomes King, might decide to forgive me. I have done great good here.”

“But you won’t do good any longer, once the world knows your character. Adelaide, as Queen, won’t abide someone so immoral heading a charity of importance. And all your powerful benefactors and patrons, they’ll follow the Queen’s favor. You’ll destroy this place if you stay.”

Louisa wanted to close her eyes against the blow of truth in his statement. Her fists shook with the effort not to weep, not to show weakness. “You’re the one who wants to destroy it,” she said, fighting to keep her voice steady. “You want us to leave. To sell this property to you? What could you possibly gain?”

He blinked. “A great deal of blunt, you little fool. Do you know what land in Knightsbridge is worth?”