Page 12 of The Duke of Seduction
A light rap on the door, which he’d left ajar, drew his attention. “Come.”
His butler, the exceedingly efficient and supportive Gage, stepped inside. “I’m not disturbing you, am I, my lord?” Gage was always careful to wait until there was a lull in the music.
“Not at all. You have today’s post there?” Beck met him near the door.
“Yes.” He handed Beck the stack of missives, and Beck continued to his desk.
Gage followed him, his tall, muscular frame moving with a grace that belied his fifty or so years. “I liked what you were playing at the end there.”
Beck moved behind the desk and looked up from sifting through his correspondence. “Thank you. A work in progress.”
“One of your finer pieces, in my opinion.”
Recognizing his solicitor’s hand, Beck opened that missive and found what he was expecting—another letter from the editor of theMorning Chronicle. He skimmed the missive and provided a summary for Gage. “He wants more poems. Apparently, circulation is up.” He dropped the letters on his desk and gave his butler a wry look.
“Unsurprising. The Duke of Seduction is quite popular, even among the servants.” Gage shook his head, which still sported a thick mane of dark hair shot with silver. “No, none of them realize you are him.”
For a moment, Beck had tensed. Now he blew out a breath in relief. Gage was the only person who knew of his secret identity, and Beck trusted him completely. “I can’t write them too quickly,” Beck said. “Each of them needs time to reap the benefits and hopefully make a match.” He’d worried that he hadn’t let enough time lapse before writing the poem about Lady Lavinia, but he’d been too eager to help her.
“You don’t have to write a poem about a young lady in need of attention,” Gage offered. “In fact, you needn’t write anything new at all. Your catalog of work is extensive.”
Gage had been his valet when he’d left Oxford, and Beck had promoted him after the former butler had retired following Beck’s father’s death. Because he’d been with Beck for so long, he knew more about Beck’s life than anyone. That included his music, his poetry, and his masquerade as the Duke of Seduction. In fact, the nickname had been Gage’s idea.
“I don’t want to publish any of that,” Beck said, repeating something he’d said on many occasions. The truth was that Gage was wearing him down. Maybe in another ten years, he’d be ready.
“I know you say it’s too dark, but it’s honest and beautiful. And some of it is quite romantic.”
“If you mean in the way that Romeo and Juliet is romantic, then yes.” Beck managed not to roll his eyes.
Gage chuckled. “All right, some of it leans to the tragic, but not all of it.”
Beck arched a brow at him. “You think you’ve read even half?”
“Of course I wouldn’t know. You are rather prolific, and I know there are things you don’t share. Even with me.”
That much was true. Beck kept his gaze from falling to the portrait of Helen.
“I understand Miss Lennox is engaged to be married,” Gage said.
Beck nodded. “To Sainsbury. It’s a good match. I think. What do I know?”
“Any hint of success with the others? Though I suppose it’s too soon to tell with the last.”
Yes, it was, but from everything Beck had observed and heard over the past two days, Lady Lavinia’s popularity had risen dramatically. He still couldn’t believe it had taken his intervention. She was exceptionally witty. He’d quite enjoyed their banter at the park the other day.
“I am optimistic on both counts,” Beck said. “And I think I know who the next one will be.” He felt he owed it to Lady Lavinia’s friend Miss Colton to provide the same assistance. Her brother Anthony would likely appreciate it.
Gage’s dark blue eyes flashed with surprise. “Already?”
“She’s a friend of Lady Lavinia’s. And the sister of a friend.”
“You have a kind and generous soul,” Gage said softly. “Sometimes I wonder, however, if you help others because you really want to help yourself.”
The words hit Beck in the gut, making him flinch inwardly. “You think I need help?”
“That’s not what I said. Forgive me if I’m speaking out of turn.”
Beck made a noise that was part grunt and part scoff. “You know that’s impossible.”
