Page 20 of The Duke of Lies
“I appreciate it, Your Grace,” Bricker said. He turned a fond look toward the duchess. “Her Grace said you’d like to offer me a retirement cottage. I’m much obliged, but I’d still like my sheep.”
“We’d be delighted for you to keep your sheep, Mr. Bricker,” he said. “I’m sure there is no one better.”
They said their good-byes, and Kit unrolled his sleeves as he walked toward the duchess. She held up his waistcoat with an arched brow—a favored expression of hers, he was beginning to learn.
He pulled the garment on, then took his coat from her as they walked to their horses. “Thank you,” he said simply.
“I didn’t want to say so, but your clothing is a bit of a disgrace. Your old garments are somewhere in the castle—I’ll have Kirwin dig them out.”
“He already did,” Kit said as he pulled on his coat, then set to buttoning his waistcoat. He’d have given anything to pull off his cravat, but decided a duke shouldn’t go that far.
“Already?” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t be surprised. Kirwin is exceedingly efficient. You said I ran the castle well, but the truth is he and Mrs. Hunsacker manage everything so ably that I hardly need to do a thing.”
“I find that hard to believe.” He detected a penchant for her to discount herself and wondered if her lousy husband was to blame.
She waved him off as they reached their horses. “Well, it’s true.” She looked at his costume. “If Kirwin brought your clothing, why are you still wearing this?”
Because none of it had fit. He was, apparently, a couple of inches taller than his cousin and far wider in the shoulders. His legs were also a bit more muscular, which had made the breeches impossible to wear. He decided to seize on that excuse. “It seems my years at sea have increased the breadth of my shoulders and the circumference of my thighs.” He laughed, hoping she wouldn’t recall what Bricker had said earlier.
Her gaze dipped over him very briefly, and that enticing bit of color returned to her cheeks. “I can see that. I suppose you’ll need to summon a tailor. Or has Kirwin already taken care of that?”
“He has. The tailor will come to the castle tomorrow.”
She nodded with a half smile. It wasn’t as splendid as the one she’d given him earlier, but he’d take it like a child grasping a sweet at Yuletide.
Kit helped her onto her horse once more, and they waved to Bricker and Dooley as they rode onto the track back toward the castle.
The moment they rode into the stable yard, Kit sensed the air of tension. He swung off his horse as Kirwin strode toward them with purpose.
A groom helped the duchess dismount while Kit addressed the butler. “Is something amiss?”
Clearly it was, given Kirwin’s pitched brows and slightly gray color. “It’s his lordship.” He turned his primary focus to the duchess, which Kit understood. His heart started to race, and he could only imagine what she must be feeling. “Please come at once—to the east garden.”
Kit would’ve broken into a hard sprint if he remembered where the bloody hell that was located. Instead, he moved beside the duchess as she picked up her skirts and ran as quickly as she could. All the while, he prayed Beau was all right.
Chapter 6
As they hurriedto the east garden, Verity tried not to panic. “What is wrong with Beau?” she asked Kirwin.
“He followed Whiskers up into the oak tree—farther than he’s ever gone before—and I’m afraid he can’t get down.”
They crossed the lower courtyard to the entrance tower and dashed around the side of the castle to the east garden. The oak tree was about thirty feet tall with a jumble of limbs to climb and stood at the far corner of the garden.
“He’s climbed this tree before?” Rufus asked as they hastened along the path.
“Several times, but he knows not to go too high.” Even so, he often tried as temptation overcame him. Which was why he required supervision. “Where is his nurse?” Verity asked just as she saw the woman wringing her hands beneath the tree.
Kirwin gestured with his hand. “There, Your Grace.”
Verity rushed forward. “What happened?”
The nurse began to cry. “Oh, Your Grace, I told him not to go any higher, but he was insistent that Whiskers needed help.”
Clearly the cat did not, since the gray animal was now seated beneath the tree, staring up the trunk.
“Mama?”
Verity went to the trunk and looked up into the branches until she found Beau. He was quite far up. “I’m here, Beau.”
