Page 76 of The Duke of Lies
Fury raged through Kit. “I will not be extorted.
“Don’t think of it like that. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
Kit couldn’t help prodding for definitive confirmation for his many suspicions. “Like the one you made with Rufus when he wed Verity? What did you have on him? Did he kill my half brother Godwin?”
Horatio wrinkled his nose as if he were smelling vinaigrette. “Let us not revisit ancient history. None of that matters. You aren’t Rufus. But youcanbe. Take the deal I’m offering. The alternative would crush Verity and likely see you in jail for fraud, if not something worse.”
The walls seemed to close in around Kit. “Verity will never agree to give you funds from her estate.”
“So don’t tell her. I’m quite confident in your ability to deceive. With the exception of me and Cuddy, you seem to have done rather well with your masquerade. All you need do is sign the contract I’ll send over in the morning, shake the Lord Chancellor’s hand, and take your seat in the Lords. Then you’ll be the Duke of Blackburn forevermore.”
“Until you decide to change the terms,” Kit spat.
“Not at all, which is why there will be a contract. I will testify from now until my death that you are the right and honorable Duke of Blackburn.”
Of course he wanted to put it in writing, lest Kit renege as soon as he took his seat. Without the contract, it would be the word of a duke against the word of this social-climbing sycophant. Kit realized they were alike—both wanting to be something they weren’t. Horatio wanted to be wealthy and important while Kit wanted the dukedom and everything that came with it, especially Verity. Who also—desperately—wanted him to be the duke. He suddenly hated himself.
Because he was going to take the fucking deal.
“You’re a self-serving prick, Horatio. But for Verity, I will accept your terms. Send the contract and be sure it includes the following: you are not to visit Beaumont Tower or otherwise contact her or me unless I give you leave. Do you understand?”
Horatio pouted, and Kit longed to wipe that pathetic look from the man’s face permanently.
He exhaled dejectedly. “I suppose if I must.”
Kit turned and quit the room before he gave in to the violence rioting through him. As he approached the ballroom, he nearly collided with Simon.
“Oh, there you are,” Simon said. “I was just coming to rescue you from Verity’s father.” He looked past Kit. “Where were you?”
Kit ignored the question. “I’ve had enough for one evening.”
“Yes, I find balls tedious. Let’s go to the club.”
“No. Not tonight. I’m tired from traveling.” He wasn’t tired at all. In fact, he would have gladly sailed out to sea right that very minute.
“Of course. I understand. Come, let’s fetch the wives.” He turned and they went into the ballroom, where Kit put on his best performance to date—that of a man who wasn’t about to commit to a lifetime of lying to the person he loved most in the world.
Chapter 17
After checking on Beau, who was asleep in the chamber next to hers and Kit’s, Verity opened the door to see Kit staring into the fire. His face was blank, but his frame was tense—his shoulders high and the muscles of his neck tight.
He’d been quiet since leaving the ball, and when she’d questioned him upon arriving back at the town house, he’d blamed it on fatigue. Since she was rather exhausted herself, she hadn’t questioned it. Now, however, she wondered if his time with her father had affected his mood. She wouldn’t blame him if it had.
He turned his head as she closed the door with a soft click. He wore a silk banyan, which he’d donned while she’d gone to check on Beau. “How is he?”
“Sleeping quite soundly,” she said, tightening the tie that held her dressing gown closed.
“Good. We should probably do the same.” He turned toward the bed, and she knew something was bothering him. All day, they’d exchanged glances and touches that seemed to promise of reclaiming their intimacy now that Beau wasn’t sharing their bed.
She was more convinced than ever that her father was to blame. “What happened with my father?”
“He’s an ass.” The vehemence of his answer startled her, but she wasn’t surprised by his summation.
“Yes. What did he say?”
“He thanked me for being different, for being a better husband—he said he cares greatly for you. That’s horseshit, however.” He winced. “Sorry. Heshouldcare for you.”
She walked around the bed and went to stand in front of him, placing her hand on his chest, which was bare in the V of the opening of the banyan. “He should, but he doesn’t. I have no illusions about that. I’m sorry you had to spend time alone with him.”
