Page 36 of The Duke of Lies
His not-wife. Verity. The woman Kit wanted.
Did he?
Yes.
The realization hit him hard, and he slowed in the middle of the courtyard on his way to Thomas’s tower. He couldn’t think about that. He needed to focus on Cuddy and keeping himself out of the House of bloody Lords.
Except he was supposedly the Duke of Blackburn, and it was his duty to sit in the damned thing. If they summoned him, he would have to go. Or disappear immediately. And though that was his ultimate goal, the thought pained him more than he could say.
Cuddy.Focus on that thieving blackguard.
What did Kit plan to do? He wanted to know how Verity’s father had come to encourage Cuddy for the position. But since Kit—as Rufus—was supposed to have been here at the time and had presumably done the actual hiring, he had to tread carefully.
She’d said that Cuddy and her father had maintained a close relationship over the past six and a half years. Did that include direct oversight of Cuddy? If it did, surely Verity’s father should have realized the man was embezzling. Except the differences had been small enough to avoid notice but large enough to accumulate quite a sum over time.
Where was that sum now? If Kit recovered it—and he planned to—he’d have enough to get his ship and still restore a portion to the estate. Only, that made him no better than Cuddy. Stealing from a thief was still stealing, especially when Kit knew where the money belonged.
He needed to talk to Verity about Cuddy and about her father’s role. This was the perfect opportunity to take Romsey’s advice. Yes, he’d ask to meet with her and see if he could turn the occasion into something pleasant and engaging for both of them.
Anticipation coursed through him as he strode toward Thomas’s tower until another realization smacked him in the face. If he had a nickname, it would be the Duke of Lies. He was lying to everyone. How could he possibly hope to build a relationship on that?
Chapter 9
Verity stoodoutside Beau’s room and listened to Rufus read the end of a chapter ofRobinson Crusoe. Every night, she wanted to ask if she could join them, and every night, the words stuck in her throat. The more she found herself relaxing around Rufus and accepting him, the more annoyed she became. He deserved her scorn or at least her apathy.
But it’s to spend time with Beau, she reasoned.
Except she was enchanted by Rufus’s voice. The way he read the story was warm and engaging. It was the voice of a man who’d experienced adventure and would hold you in his thrall if given half the chance. She found herself wanting to give him an entire chance.
But she wouldn’t.
Taking a deep breath, she notched up her chin and bustled into the room. “Are you ready for a kiss good night?”
Rufus snapped the book closed and stood from the bed as Beau giggled. “Do you mean me or Papa?”
A blush started to rise up Verity’s neck, but she worked to keep her embarrassment at bay. “You, silly.”
Beau looked up at her, his green eyes wide and innocent as they flicked over to Rufus and back to her again. “Why don’t you kiss like Auntie Diana and Uncle Simon?”
Absolutely robbed of speech, Verity worked not to gape at her son.
Thankfully, Rufus saved the moment. “Some people don’t like to kiss in front of others.”
Beau’s forehead pleated as he looked between them again. “But you both kiss me all the time in front of other people.”
“It’s, ah, different with children,” Verity said quickly. She leaned down and kissed his head, smoothing his hair down and then pulling his coverlet up to his chin. “Time for dreaming now. Sleep well.”
“I love you, Mama.”
“I love you too, Beau.”
“And I love you, Papa.”
“And I love you.” Hearing Rufus say those words to Beau turned an already tense moment into something that was nearly excruciating. Standing here, they almost felt like a family. She could imagine Rufus kissing her. Worst of all, she could imagine kissing him back.
“Oh, and Mama? You used to say that the picture of Papa on my wall didn’t look very much like him. I think it looks exactly like him.” Beau yawned before closing his eyes and snuggling beneath his covers.
Verity glanced toward the picture and murmured, “I have to agree.” In it, he wore a half smile, and his eyes, though not as green as those of the man in the room, crinkled with amusement. It gave one the sense that the subject of the portrait was happy and charming. So yes, in that respect, it looked far more like the man in the room than the Rufus she recalled.
