Page 10 of The Duke of Lies
“That’s what Thomas told me today too,” Beau said. Who was Thomas? “Mama knows everything.”
Kit couldn’t contain his laugh. His mother, though she’d died when he was only eight, had known everything too. She’d managed their household with strict precision and a wealth of love for both him and his father. Her death had decimated their tiny family, and it had spawned the end of Kit’s innocence. “Yes, mothers usually do,” he said.
Beau’s gaze turned pleading as he stared up at Kit. “Tell me about the bad men who took you, Papa. Did you have to kill them?”
“Beau!” The duchess’s sharp, feminine tone sounded through the room, drawing both him and the child to whip their heads in her direction. She’d left the doorway and now came toward them, her brows pitched low on her forehead. “That’s an awful question. He didn’t kill anyone. And even if he had, you’re far too young to hear such gruesome stories.”
In truth, Kit had killed many men. His livelihood—which had led him into war—had demanded it. But he wouldn’t say so. He couldn’t disagree that Beau shouldn’t hear of such horrors.
Kit angled himself toward the boy and looked him in the eye. “When you are old enough, I will tell you about my journeys, all right? But for now, I would like to concentrate on being home with you. And your mother.”
He darted a look toward her again and caught the bewildered expression in her eyes just before she masked it. Yes, the duke had been a deplorable prick, and he wanted to know in what way and why. For some unknown reason, he felt a fierce urge to protect the child beside him and the woman hovering nearby.
And he protected nothing but himself and his ship. The last at which he’d failed. Disgust rose in his throat, but he swallowed it back. He’d soon have a new ship. Abettership. In the meantime, he would play duke. And father. And husband. His gaze slid toward her again and saw her thinly veiled contempt. Not husband, then.
Which was fine. He hadn’t come here to woo a wife or coddle a son. He’d do what he needed to regain what he’d lost, and he’d do it with what he deserved. What he’d been promised.
Beau slipped his arms around Kit’s waist and squeezed. “I’m so glad you’re home. I knew this day would happen, even if Mama didn’t.”
Kit’s gut clenched, and he fought to banish the guilt wrought by the boy’s adoration. He looked over at the duchess once more. Her lips were pursed, her brows angled. She really didn’t care for this entire situation.
Extricating himself from the hug with a pat to the boy’s back, Kit gave the lad a half smile. “What should you be doing now? Surely I’ve created havoc on your routine.”
“He finished lessons early,” the duchess said. “But he should go and ready himself for dinner.”
Kit blinked at her. “Does he dine with you?” That wasn’t typical in houses like this, at least from what little he knew.
“Yes. It’s just the two of us, after all. Or was, anyway.” The edge of bitterness in her tone was unmistakable. She positively detested this situation. Kit’s guilt doubled.
“Must I go, Mama?” Beau asked pleadingly. “Can’t I stay with Papa?”
Kit ruffled the boy’s hair. “Your mother and I have things to discuss. Things that will surely bore you. Remember how I said you should always listen to your mother?” Along with that Thomas person, whoever he was.
“Yes, Papa.” Beau slid from the settee. “After dinner, I will show you all my soldiers.”
“I would like that,” Kit said. He’d never had toy soldiers. What he’d had was a mountain of books. And absent much else, he’d utterly devoured them. Over and over and over again.
Beau threw his arms around Kit’s neck and hugged him one more time. Kit held him close as the scent of grass and boy washed over him. When Beau stood back, he put his hands on Kit’s face. “You look like me.”
Kit made himself laugh. “Who else should I look like?”
Beau grinned. “No one, just me. Because you’remypapa.” He turned and skipped from the room, turning at the doorway and looking at his mother in alarm. “Where is Papa sleeping?”
The duchess gestured toward the wall that separated the drawing room from Kit’s chamber. “In the Blue Room.”
“Can’t he move next to me? I should like it if he slept close by.” He looked to Kit. “You could even sleep in my room, if you want.”
Kit suppressed a smile and waited for the duchess to handle this.
“The Blue Room is much larger and more comfortable,” she said.
“Is that where you slept before, Papa?”
“Ah…” He looked at the duchess in question.
She turned a smile on her son. “Let me talk to your father about where he wants to sleep.”
Kit didn’t care so long as there was a bed and not a swinging hammock belowdeck.
