Page 128 of The Duke's Counterfeit Wife

For the first time in decades, she wanted that and was so close to having it.

She cuddled the kitten to her and turned her attention to where Ian was weakly protesting the extra blanket the Duke had insisted on tucking around him.

“I’m fine! Cease your fussing, Your Grace.”

“Dinnae Yer Grace me, Ian! I was up all night praying over yer bloody carcass!”

Ian caught the Duke’s hand in his and raised it to his lips, holding the other man’s gaze. “And I’m sorry I gave you such a fright,” he murmured.

Duncan harrumphed, but was clearly pleased. He settled back in his chair, still clutching Ian’s hand. “Ye have a hole in yer shoulder. Ye should be in bed.”

“Yes, but it’s not the important shoulder. I can still write, and I had to be here. I don’t trust anyone else to write up the contracts.”

With a subtle groan Felicity doubted anyone but her heard, Griffin removed his arm from behind her, and sat forward a bit. “What contracts?”

But the Duke shook his head, both hands now cradling Ian’s hand in his lap. “No’ yet. First of all, I believe we are owed an explanation. Why did John Totwafel shoot Ian?”

Griffin’s inhalation was long and slow, as if preparing for an ordeal. He held his breath, then exhaled and nodded. “Ye are owed that much, I suppose. Totwafel was really John Wilson, a traitor to the Crown.”

“Good heavens! You mean he actually choose the name Totwafel? I always assumed it was an unfortunate ancestors’ misspelling. A traitor, you say?”

“He worked for a man called Blackrose, who is really William Stoughton, younger son to the Earl of Bonkinbone. Blackrose spent years building a spy network—”

“I knew you were still a spy!” declared Ian triumphantly. When Griffin frowned, he wiggled the fingers of the arm wrapped in a sling. “You both kept insisting that was behind you, but I suspected—” He cut himself off abruptly when he realized how everyone was staring at him, and cleared his throat. “Forgive me, continue.”

Griffin’s nod was jerky. “Blackrose built a spy network, recruiting young men, lying to them. They believed they were working for the good of England.” Griffin’s gaze dropped to his fists, which rested atop his knees. “They werenae. Blackrose was using the information they gathered to line his own pockets. He deliberately kept them separate so they wouldnae learn of it.”

“But they did?” Ian asked quietly.

Without looking up, Griffin nodded jerkily. “Aye,” he rasped, “And most of them were killed when they did. I…” Atop his knees, his hands closed into fists, then opened and closed again, half-hopelessly. “I killed Wilson,” he whispered. “Or, I thought I had. Blackrose gave me the assignment, the one I couldn’t stomach. He had a lie to justify it. I guess I did a puir job, since the bastard lived. Or perhaps that had been Blackrose’s plan all along; to make Wilson disappear, so he could be used.”

Remembering what he’d told her, of how he’d gone to Blackrose and told him he was quitting, Felicity’s heart clenched. All these years, Griffin had thought he’d killed a fellow agent.

She placed her hand against his back, willing him whatever strength he needed.

Perhaps it worked. Or perhaps it was the silence of the rest of the room, no one speaking up to condemn him. Whatever it was, he took a deep breath and lifted his gaze. “We thought…Those of us who’d come out of hiding, and have been working to find Blackrose, we’d thought only a few of us were left. But clearly Wilson had merely gone into hiding too. Perhaps he’d been too useful to Blackrose, even then.”

“So Totwafel was just as evil as Blackrose?” Ian prompted.

“Blackrose fled to Canada last year and we’ve been looking for him. We kenned there was someone here at Peasgoode in touch with him, and Totwafel admitted to being that agent.”

Unable to stand the tension in Griffin’s fists and forearms, Felicity closed her hand around one of his. “He said Blackrose was determined to become a lord. Becoming the Duke’s heir—and then removing the Duke—was his ultimate goal.”

“Aye.” Griffin turned his hand over and twined his fingers through hers, his hold almost desperate. “He must believe, as a lord, he’ll be able to withstand the investigation.”

“And he believes the evidence against him has been destroyed, yes? So at this point it would be his word against yours.”

Griffin nodded grimly. “As far as he kens. We—the evidence wasnae destroyed, and we’re waiting to use it..”

From across the room, Marcia cleared her throat. “Has anyone found Totwafel?”

Frankly, Felicity had forgotten the children were in the room. Treason and murder were almost certainly not child-appropriate topics. She glanced at Rupert. Oh dear. The lad seemed just as interested as his sister.

She nodded reluctantly. “We received word last night that his B-O-D-D-Y had been recovered downriver. Unfortunately.”

“Why unfortunately?” Marcia sounded fiercely gleeful. “He got what he deserved. Bull almost died.”

“Yes, well, Bull was a bit F-O-L-I-S-H to involve himself, was he not?” Felicity asked primly, shooting her son a challenging eyebrow. “You could have been seriously H-U-R-T.”

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