Page 64 of The Duke's Stolen Heart
Trust him.
Antonia had spent so long trusting no one but herself that she was no longer certain she knew how to. She remained motionless on the seat. Her toes tingled as warmth from a brick seeped into them, returning life to her numb digits.
She lay her head against the squabs. The hat fell to the leather seat beside her and lay in a squashed heap. Her dark tresses uncoiled from the knot she had pinned them into and tumbled about her shoulders. Antonia listened. She hoped so hard that her body began to tremble fit to shake down the walls that guarded her heart.
* * *
The two menon horseback whom he had followed for two days thundered down the hill. Their steeds had been fresh an hour ago when they changed horses but now lather flecked the animals’ flanks. The Bow Street men had ridden hard to find Antonia.
“Have you seen a woman dressed as a man?” the first man demanded without preamble.
“No,” Malcolm lied succinctly. Kissed a woman dressed as a man, yes. His eyes had been closed though. “Who inquires?”
“Sam Higley, of Bow Street. My partner and I are working on behalf of six fine families who have been deprived of their jewels by a depraved thief posing as an American woman named Miss Antonia Lowry. We believe she has recently delivered a satchel of gold coins to the family of a woman who was recently fished out of the River Thames.”
“I do not understand,” Malcolm replied slowly. He really ought to travel in an unmarked coach more often. Without a crest to inform them, these men had no idea who he was.
“We have cause to believe the money was from the sale of said jewelry.”
“Forgive my lack of intelligence, kind gentlemen,” Malcolm said, with mild condescension and a brief bow. “I do not understand why a woman would steal jewels to give the family?”
“We think she may have murdered the woman.” But a note of uncertainty crept into the man’s voice.
“Then, why would she wish to make amends? Assuming she is indeed so cold-hearted.”
“Women have softer hearts. Miss Lowry’s was touched with remorse, I’ll bet.” He shifted on his horse.
Malcolm’s mouth stretched into the wolfish smile he had used to intimidate so many people. Until Antonia, it had worked wonders. It did so again now.
“I regret to inform you that I am the source of the money recently delivered to the Webber family.” Malcolm adopted a touch of bashful humility as though he were being forced to reveal his role. “I am the Duke of Havencrest, and I have a duty to demonstrate compassion. I was touched by the late Miss Webber’s death. I paid for her to be buried. Once I discovered her true identity, I sent a boy ahead to deliver the money. It was all to be quite secret, you understand.”
“You—your Grace,” the man sitting astride the bay horse mumbled. His mount tugged at the reins as though eager to be its way.
“I advise you to seek a culprit for your clients’ stolen gems elsewhere, good gentlemen. Miss Lowry has taken a brief journey to visit her friends. Upon her return, Miss Lowry will be the next Duchess of Havencrest. Do I make myself clear?”
A long moment passed.
“Sir.” Higley’s anxious gray side-stepped. He used this as an excuse not to meet Malcolm’s gaze. The proper thing to do would have been for both men to dismount so they could conduct a civil conversation like grown men, but no matter. Keeping these two up on horseback put them in the best position to leave, with all possible promptness.
“Find another scapegoat. Edith Webber, for example, is in no position to protest her name being dragged through the mud. Do so quietly. As far as the family is concerned, Miss Weber was a working actress. It mustn’t be repeated to the family. They have borne enough grief.” Malcolm produced a hefty purse from his pocket. “I trust this is adequate compensation for your efforts to clear Miss Lowry’s good name. Which start” —he tossed the leather bag to Higley, who nearly fell off his horse trying to catch it— “now.”
The man perched atop the bay touched the brim of his hat. “Understood, Your Grace. If you ever should find yourself in need of two competent and honest investigators, Higley and me are at your service.”
Considering the way he had just bribed them, Malcolm harbored doubts about the men’s honesty, but all he said was, “Thank you, gentlemen. I bid you good day.”
They were off as quickly as their horses would carry them. Malcolm strode to the coach where his footman stood guard.
“My gratitude for your protectiveness.”
The footman startled. “Sir.”
“You may stand down.”
The liveried footman bowed and moved to open the door. Inside, Antonia had curled her body onto the seat beneath a warm blanket. Her face had lost its pallor and warmth pinked her cheeks. She was soft and strong, willful and wondering. The sight of her made his heart thud.
“Masterful,” Antonia said as a smile blossomed across her cheeks. “Did you mean it?”
“Every bit.” Malcolm hauled himself into the coach and settled himself beneath her legs. “If you would do me the honor of being my duchess, I would be most obliged.”
