Page 11 of The Duke of Ruin
“No, I’ll take care of it. And my coachman will bring our cases. Thank you kindly, Mrs. Watt.”
“My pleasure, Mr. Byrd. See you at dinner!”
After the woman left, Diana faced the duke. “How does she know you? You couldn’t have arranged this in advance.”
He went to the mantel and picked up the tinderbox. “Of course not. You didn’t tell me where we were going until we set out. As it happens, I’ve been here before. I didn’t remember at first.”
That eased her concern somewhat, but it didn’t entirely make sense. “As Mr. Byrd?”
He knelt at the hearth to start the fire, which was already laid. He didn’t turn his head when he answered. “Er, yes.”
She wanted to make sure she understood. “You’ve been here before as Mr. Byrd?”
Once he had the fire going, he stood. “Yes.”
She tipped her head to the side, waiting for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, she set her hands on her hips. He was being decidedly circumspect. “Why did you come here under an alias?”
“I like to travel.” He shrugged and still didn’t meet her eyes, which didn’t help his cause. “I prefer to remain anonymous.”
“Except you weren’t. You used a specific name. A name we’re now using on this…trip.” She wasn’t sure what to call it. Escape?
He finally looked at her. “You needn’t worry. No one knows who I really am. And they’ll only know you as Mrs. Byrd. Kitty Byrd.” He sniggered, and she rolled her eyes at his finding humor in this situation.
“Yes, they’ll know me as your wife, with apparently some fantastical tale about how we fell in love.”
“Fantastical?” He stroked his chin. “I’d thought we could simply say we were introduced by a common friend and decided to wed, but I suppose we could concoct a more amusing story.” His eyes lit. “I know—you left your fiancé at the altar and ran off with his best friend.” He laughed.
She stared at him, uncertain of whether to laugh or cry. She managed to say, “That’s a bit too close for my comfort.”
He sobered immediately. “Yes, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Later, perhaps, you’ll laugh about it.”
Laugh at being thrown over by a duke because he loved someone else? She could laugh, but she wasn’t sure it came from being amused. More like feeling powerless. How she hated that sensation after enduring it about every aspect of her life for as long as she could remember. She lifted her chin. “You’ve loved me for years and finally persuaded me to marry you.”
He took a step toward her, his gaze sharpening on hers. “I could believe that might be true.”
What was he doing, flirting with her? “But it isn’t.”
“It’ll be fun pretending it is.” He gave her a devilish smile that made her insides pitch like the time she’d ridden in a high-perch phaeton.
Fun? Pretending to be married? To him?
If things had gone as planned, she would be well on her way to being married. Granted, to someone else, but surely she could pretend for one evening.
Of course she could. She’d mastered the art of living a lie, of feigning interest when there was none, of displaying joy that didn’t exist. Tonight would be no different.
Chapter 3
Excusinghimself from their room so Miss Kingman could perform a toilette in private, Simon made his way downstairs to the dining room where Mrs. Watt had laid out a rather impressive table setting for such a small inn.
Once she’d reminded him that he’d been there before, he vaguely remembered visiting last summer on his travels. He remembered Mrs. Watt’s enthusiasm and a particularly succulent pheasant.
The innkeeper came into the dining room at that moment, as if summoned by Simon’s thoughts. “Good evening, Mr. Byrd,” he said jovially. “May I interest you in a cup of ale?”
“No, thank you. Tea, if it’s not too much trouble. And a glass of wine for my wife, if you have one.”
“Of course, of course.”
“I see there are five seats at the table,” Simon noted. “Will you and Mrs. Watt be joining us?”
