Page 22 of The Duke of Lies
Rufus smiled and held up his hand. “That’s not necessary. I can direct a footman.” He inclined his head toward them and returned to the castle, leaving Verity alone with the butler.
They were quiet watching Rufus disappear from view as he went back through the entrance gate.
It was Kirwin who spoke first. “He’s quite changed, Your Grace. If it’s not too forward of me to say.”
“It’s not, and I agree.” Verity narrowed her eyes and looked back toward the tree before starting toward the house. Kirwin fell into step beside her. “He said you found his clothes—from before. Thank you for thinking of that.”
“They didn’t fit.”
“So he said. He also told me you arranged for a tailor to visit tomorrow.”
“I did. It was absolutely necessary.” He fell quiet for a few steps before saying, “I didn’t see him try on the clothes, but I did watch him hold a coat up and realized straightaway that it would never fit.”
“Yes, he’s bigger after his time away.” More muscular, which had been readily demonstrated by all the activities he’d undertaken that day. Now, as she thought of him climbing the tree, she had to admit he was remarkably well formed. She didn’t recall him having muscles like that, but then she’d endeavored to touch as little of him as possible.
“Actually, he seems a bit taller as well,” Kirwin said. “And I noticed he didn’t wear the boots, which were practically new when he disappeared. I don’t think those fit either.”
“My feet changed size after I had Beau,” Verity said. Not that Rufus had borne a child, obviously, but the point was that changes could happen. Was she trying to make excuses against the possibility that he wasn’t actually Rufus? And yet, how could that be? He looked so much like him, and he knew things that a stranger wouldn’t.
He’d known Kirwin, and he’d asked why Beau’s name wasn’t Archibald. She suddenly wanted to probe further and see what else he knew—or didn’t.
“I don’t know what prompted him to change so much, but I’m quite glad,” Kirwin said. “For his lordship’s sake as well as yours.”
Verity agreed but didn’t say so.
As they moved across the lower courtyard, Kirwin looked over at her. “Mrs. Hunsacker and I wanted to apologize for our behavior after you first came here. We knew he wasn’t treating you very well, but we were too afraid to say anything. I like to think I would have, if he hadn’t disappeared.”
She stopped at the base of the stairs leading to the path that went to the upper gatehouse. “I’m sure you would have.”
Looking back, she’d no idea how she would have survived being married to him. The abuse had started with insults and progressed to degradation. Then he’d started to touch her more roughly, which echoed his brash treatment of her in the bedchamber. Those pinches and grabs had become pushing and then hitting, but that hadn’t been his preferred method of torture. No, that was refusing her things—her finest undergarments, food and drink, and finally sleep.
Two days before he’d disappeared, she’d disappointed him in bed, and he’d made her stand in the corner for the remainder of the night, saying that if he awoke and found her sleeping or moved, he’d make her spend the night outside. It had been pouring rain. And since he tended to wake once or twice in the night to use the chamber pot, she’d stayed there, too terrified to move.
“When I first saw him yesterday, I was distressed,” she said softly.
“We were too.” Kirwin’s support meant more to her than he could know. “We immediately pledged to keep you and his lordship safe—at any cost.”
“It seems as though you won’t have to take any drastic measures. He does seem rather different.” She only prayed he stayed that way.
Kirwin perhaps shared her reservations. “If we have the slightest inclination that he’s reverting to his old ways, we will protect you.”
She touched his arm and gave him an affectionate smile. “Thank you, Kirwin, and please thank Mrs. Hunsacker. But I caution you to be careful. He is a duke after all, and next to him, we are all nothing.” Rufus had reminded her of that so many times. In fact, this entire conversation only served to remind her of how awful he’d been. She suddenly wanted a bath too, to wash away the complacency that had settled around her that afternoon. She would scrub off his kindness, his care, and his touch—even that had been drastically altered. When he’d helped her to mount and dismount all afternoon, she’d almost imagined him touching her with affection.
Almost.
She couldn’t allow herself to believe he was anything other than the devil she knew him to be.
* * *
Two days passedin a blur as Kit spent considerable time planning the new goat pen and shed, visiting more tenants, and reviewing the account books following the departure of Cuddy late the day before. Kit looked down at the open book, which included entries through last week, and frowned. He didn’t understand why repairs hadn’t been made, such as to the clock in the courtyard, or why horses had been sold. The estate seemed to be doing well, and yet there was no surplus.
He’d have to read them a second time. Thankfully, he was a very fast reader.
A knock on the office door drew Kit to stand. Anxiety coursed through him, and he rolled his shoulders to shake it off. He’d asked for this meeting, had invited the Entwhistles here. Would Whist recognize him…
“Come in,” Kit called, sounding far more calm and collected than he felt.
The door pushed open, and the former steward came inside. He pulled his hat from his head to reveal a thinning patch of gray hair. A man of average height and build, Whist barely looked older than when Kit had seen him last, some seventeen years ago. There were, however, a few more lines around his eyes, and his frame seemed a bit less robust.
