Page 84 of Any Duke in a Storm

Thornbury gave a curt nod. “I can. The countess informed me of her plans and the Duc de Viel’s involvement when she visited New York a short time ago. I am willing to put that in writing for your report and pass my sworn testimony to the Home Office.”

A tense silence ensued, as the secretary weighed his options.

“Then I believe we’re done here,” McCulloch said, and Carr stormed off. “Your Grace, thank you. Lady Waterstone, well done. I will personally make sure that Mr. Jenks is commended for his contribution.” He gestured to the armed officer standing near the door. “Smith, give the order to have the Duc de Viel released at once.”

“Thank you, sir,” Lisbeth said, relief like an incoming tide.

Paris, France

One month later

Raphael frowned at the gold-engraved invitation that had been hand delivered to his residence a week ago for him to attend a ball at the Tuileries Palace. A handwritten note signed by the emperor himself and Empress Eugénie saying that no refusal would be tolerated since the ball was being held in his honor had been attached. Certainly out of character for the very serious emperor, but not something that could be ignored without consequence.

And so, here he was en route to the palace.

The thought of attending a ball, even one supposedly in his honor, left him cold…particularly since the last one had been withher. Raphael hadn’t seen Lisbeth in the aftermath of his uncle’s arrest, but he’d certainly read theNew York Timesand the scintillating account of the American Treasury’s collaboration with the British Home Office to bring two criminals to justice. In a way, vengeance had been served, even though it had not been directly by his hand.

After his release, he’d visited Dubois in prison.

“I’ll be out of here in no time,” his uncle had said with a conceited grin. “Powerful people owe me favors.”

Raphael had stared at him, the loathing in his heart nearly suffocating. “No one is coming to save you, Uncle.”

“Delaney will come. He owes me.”

“Delaney has been well compensated to look the other way,” Raphael had told him with a dispassionate look. “The reign of Charles Dubois is finished. I’ve bought up all your debt, so I own you, down to the very clothes on your back.”

“How?” his uncle sputtered. “I owed millions of dollars.”

Raphael had cocked his head. “Did you think the loss of my father and all our lands would make me die of grief and wither away in poverty? It only strengthened my resolve to destroy you. So I built my fortune up with legitimate businesses. I stayed close with two small ships to convince you that I was under your thumb.” He’d stared at the man who had ruined his life. “Goodbye, Uncle. May you face the same mercy my father did.”

“We’re blood, Nephew!” Dubois had growled.

“Our ties vanished the day you murdered your brother in cold blood.”

“I’ll confess the truth to the emperor,” Dubois had shouted in desperation. “I’ll say it was my fault, that I made everything up. That he was innocent of any treason. I’ll confess to paying the orderlies at the hospital to hasten his death. Whatever you want, just don’t let me die here.”

Despite his internal agony, Raphael had smiled then, the first real smile since he’d entered that prison, as the grim-faced Duke of Thornbury emerged from the shadows. “I caught every word and am ready to testify to all that I heard here.”

Raphael said, in the coldest voice he could muster, “Thank you for your confession, Uncle. Rot in hell.”

And the two gentlemen left without turning back, to part when they reached the street with a nod of silent accord. Thornbury would ensure that Charles Dubois would face the highest sentencing for his crimes, and his uncle’s admission would finally clear Raphael’s family name. He turned his steps toward his home. It was a good day’s work. The thought of Lisbeth Medford, however, was unendurable.

Even now, wherever she was, she had his heart.

Not that he wanted it back. The useless organ could rot, too.

Back on Exuma, even though his brain had told him to cut his losses where she was concerned, when he’d heard the cannon blast echoing over the bay and a glancethrough a spyglass had confirmed that one of the two ships was theSyren, he hadn’t hesitated to scramble for the closest vessel, which happened to be Boisie’s.

He’d been too late to save Lisbeth, but just in time to rescue the crew of the sinkingSyren. The decision to sail to Nassau, where Boisie’s men had reported seeing one of the Treasury gunboats, had been spur of the moment…but all he could think about was saving her by any means necessary, even trading himself in return.

Yes, she’d lied to him.

Yes, she had let him believe she was someone else.

Yes, he’d fallen completely and irrevocably in love with her.

But he couldn’t abandon her, not even then.

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