Page 9 of The Duke of Lies
No, becoming a duke hadn’t been his plan, but faced with the opportunity, he’d been loath to pass it up. So he hadn’t.
And here he was, the Duke of Blackburn, and he’d be damned if he’d regret it.
A knock on his door took him from his thoughts. Grateful for the interruption, he stalked through the chamber and found Kirwin standing in the hall. He remembered Kirwin and had suffered a moment’s apprehension as he waited for the butler to recognize him in return. But he hadn’t. What had Kit expected? He’d met the man nearly two decades ago.
“Your Grace,” the butler began. He still carried the glimmer of surprise in his light blue eyes. “Her Grace has requested you meet her and his lordship in the drawing room in a quarter hour.”
A burst of anxiety broke over Kit, and sweat dappled his neck. “Thank you, Kirwin.”
“May I say, sir, that you seem a bit different, but then you’ve been gone a long time. Her Grace explained what happened, and I must offer my condolences for what you’ve surely endured.”
Kit felt a bit horrible for lying to this kind man, but it was necessary to achieve his ends—ends that would not adversely affect any of these people. “I appreciate that, Kirwin.”
The butler offered a slight bow before adding. “Dinner is served at six in the small dining room.” Then he took himself off.
Kit closed the door, and pushed out a pent-up breath. What the bloody hell was he thinking? Of course this could adversely affect these people. He was about to tell a boy who wasn’t his son that he was his father.
Fuck.
He should go. Immediately. Before any damage could be done.
Except, if they were to meet in a quarter hour, she’d probably already told the boy.
Get a hold of yourself.The voice in the back of his head was stern and insistent. He was only taking that which should have been his. And judging from the duchess’s reaction, she wouldn’t miss him when he left. On the contrary, he’d be willing to bet his new ship that she’d be glad to see him go.
He took a deep breath and reined in control of his senses. He could manage this. He’d faced and defeated far worse than… Christ, he didn’t even know her name.The Duchess of Blackburn.He wouldn’thaveto call her by name, for he had no plans to be that familiar.
Smoothing his palms over the lapels of his coat, he walked to the door and left the room. The drawing room was to his immediate right. He remembered it well, as it was the primary living space of the castle. Some of the other rooms—such as the small dining room—would take some effort to find. If caught as he wandered about, he would easily explain that he was simply relearning his home by exploring every room.
Yes, the drawing room looked much the same, though the furniture had been replaced. There was still a case stuffed with books in the corner, the wide hearth surmounted by a painting of a long-ago duke and duchess seated in the King’s Hall as they granted an audience to their serfs, and a framed map of the estate from the medieval period hung opposite the fireplace.
Kit had studied that map endlessly during his single visit and had traversed every inch he’d seen. He crossed to it, and his gaze fell on a table beneath. Scattered across the top was a collection of toy soldiers, reminding him of what he’d consigned himself to…
“Papa!”
The cry startled him as he turned back toward the corridor leading to his bedchamber. A small, dark-haired boy rushed to him and threw his arms around Kit’s legs. He’d expected the lad to be reticent and wary, as his mother had been. He’d never imagined this warm reception—or the burst of warmth he felt in return.
Kit patted the boy’s head, then took a step backward. “Let me look at you.”
Beau—he looked like a Beau, if anyone could really look like a name, because he was a rather handsome child with bright eyes and a strong chin—stood tall and puffed out his chest. “I’m six.”
“Of course you are. Although you could easily pass for seven.”
A grin spread over the boy’s features, lighting his green eyes.Green.Like his. Well, that was something, he supposed.
Beau took Kit’s hand, and though it was a small, simple gesture, he felt it all the way to his toes as the boy dragged him toward the settee. “Tell me all about where you were, Papa. Mama said it was a terrible ordeal and that you wouldn’t want to speak of it, but I said you’d tell me.” He let go of Kit’s hand and sat on the settee. As soon as Kit dropped down beside him, he scooted as close as he could. “I told Mama you’d been kidnapped and held captive. Why else wouldn’t you have come home?”
Why else indeed. “Did she tell you I spent much of my time aboard a ship?”
He glanced toward the doorway where the duchess still lingered. She was tall with a lithe, graceful frame. Nearly black hair framed her heart-shaped face, which was punctuated with a small, slender nose and pert, pink lips. Her eyes were dark and long-lashed and, he suspected, seductive if she chose. Her arms were folded across her chest, and she wore the same look of guarded skepticism she’d had since his arrival. That was a long way from seduction, and he had to wonder why he’d even thought of that.
“No,” Beau said. “Can you sail a ship, Papa?”
Kit turned his attention to Beau. “Yes. Maybe someday I’ll teach you.” He winced inwardly knowing that would never come to pass. Damnation, this was a terrible idea.
Beau’s green eyes glowed with excitement. “Oh yes! But first you much teach me to shoot and wield a sword. I’ve already learned to ride, though Mama says I need much more practice.”
“You should always listen to your mother.” He looked over at her again and caught the flash of surprise in her gaze. Christ almighty, what kind of bastard had the duke been? Given her demeanor, Kit could only imagine a right despicable one.
