Page 19 of The Duke of Lies
He heard the self-derision in her tone and wanted to allay her remorse. “Don’t admonish yourself. It’s not as if you’ve been idle. You’ve had Beau and the management of the castle, which is more than enough to keep you busy. From what I can tell, you’ve acquitted yourself quite well in my absence.”
“How can you tell? You’ve scarcely been back a day.”
Perhaps he couldn’t really, but his intuition told him he was right. “The staff clearly revere you, and your son absolutely adores you. I’d say that’s pretty damn successful.” He winced as he realized his transgression with his language—and he’d been working so hard. “My apologies. It’s a bit difficult to leave the life of a sailor behind.”
“So I’m beginning to see,” she murmured. Her gaze moved past him, and she inclined her head toward the cottage. “Here comes Mr. Bricker.”
Kit pivoted to face the man as he ambled toward them. He moved slowly and possessed a bit of a hunch. Kit wanted to offer the man retirement right then and there.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Bricker,” Kit greeted. “I’m Blackburn.”
Bricker cocked his head to the side and studied him a moment. The longer the man waited before he spoke, the more Kit’s anxiety kicked up. Did he see something? Could he tell Kit wasn’t Rufus Beaumont? “You look different, Your Grace. In fact, if you hadn’t introduced yourself, I wouldn’t have thought it was you. I’ll admit there’s a small resemblance, so I might’ve wondered.” He looked over at the duchess. “You sure this is him?”
Kit’s breath stalled in his chest as Bricker moved his scrutiny back to Kit. He dared to look at the duchess, who’d turned her head toward him.
“As sure as I can be,” she said.
It wasn’t exactly a resounding endorsement, but it was the best he could hope for. He sought to move past the awkwardness as quickly as possible. “I understand you’re in need of roof repair. Mr. Dooley is on his way, and I’d like to help. What seems to be the problem?”
“You’re going to fix my roof?” There was a note of admiration mixed in with the man’s surprise.
“I’d like to, yes.” He glanced back toward the track and saw Dooley approaching. Good, the man would be here in a few minutes, and they could get to work. Kit turned his focus to the thatched roof of the cottage. “Do you have a leak?”
“A bit in the corner. I’ll show you.” He led Kit to the edge of the small cottage and pointed at the watermarks on the exterior. It’s worse out here, but there’s some drip inside if you care to take a look.”
“Of course. That’s why I’m here. Tell us, Mr. Bricker, what is it you do here?”
“I keep a few sheep, Your Grace. I’ve a small farm too, but Dooley and Wallace—he’s to the north of me—do most of the work nowadays.”
“Well, that doesn’t seem quite right, Mr. Bricker.” Kit realized his error as the man’s bushy gray eyebrows pitched low over his eyes. “Not that you aren’t doing the work, but that you don’t have adequate help.”
“I do have adequate help,” Bricker said hotly. “Dooley and Wallace help me just fine.”
Before Kit could respond, the duchess moved closer to the older man and gave him a warm smile. “I’m sure they do, Mr. Bricker. Would you mind escorting me inside where it’s likely a bit cooler? I’d love to hear all about your sheep.” She gave Kit a pointed look and tucked her arm around the older man’s. Bricker seemed to stand straighter as he turned from Kit and walked her into his house.
It wasn’t lost on Kit that Bricker hadn’t treated him with any of the deference that every other person had so far. Probably because he didn’t think Kit was actually the duke.
Well, it had been bound to happen, he supposed. But would the man question him? Kit would’ve doubted it, but Bricker seemed immune to ducal decorum.
That made Kit smile.
Dooley strolled toward the cottage. “You met Bricker, then?”
“I did. I’m afraid I might have given him the wrong impression, that he should perhaps not require assistance.” Kit shrugged out of his coat and set it on the stoop. He didn’t much care if it got dirty or ruined, or if the same happened to any of the clothes he was wearing, for that matter. Tomorrow, the tailor would come to measure him for a new wardrobe. He didn’t plan to procure anything extravagant, but he was in dire need of at leastsomegarments that befitted his new station. Hell, he just wanted a few extra things that weren’t old and worn.
Dooley set his tools down, and his mouth quirked into a smile. “I expect he was crotchety about it. He’s a curmudgeon, but don’t let that get to you. As I said, he’s a kind soul. Underneath all that,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ll just go and fetch his ladder.” He moved around to the side of the cottage, and Kit rushed to help.
An hour later, they’d repaired the thatching. Kit had removed his waistcoat too and had practically soaked his shirt with sweat. The labor felt good, and he looked forward to building the goat pen.
Bricker came outside and immediately stepped directly on Kit’s coat, not that he seemed to notice, as he walked into the yard to survey their work.
The duchess closed the door behind her as she came out into the sunlight. She nearly stepped on Kit’s clothing too, but bent to pick it up with a slight frown. Her gaze came up and traveled around until landing on Kit. From the widening of her eyes and the faint streaks of pink on her cheeks, he assumed she was scandalized by his state of undress.
He glanced toward Dooley, who was also in shirtsleeves. But his was a work shirt, and he was expected to toil, while Kit was apparently supposed to supervise and refrain from activity.Well, fuck that.
“His Grace did a fine job,” Dooley said. “I was grateful to have his help today.” He nodded toward Kit. “Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure.” Truly, he’d enjoyed every moment. “Please let me know if I can be of assistance again.” He decided to shake both men’s hands, first Dooley to show Bricker what he meant to do and then the older man, who still looked at him with a dose of skepticism but also a scant bit of something that might have been admiration.
