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Authors: Kieran Kramer

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“What do you know of Halsey’s father?”

“Russell?” Janice shrugged. “Not much. Just that he wasn’t a good husband. And he
wouldn’t let you see his son—”

“Who said that?” The Queen leaned toward her in a threatening manner.

“A little bird told me.” Janice backed away an inch. “You know how that goes.” She
waved a hand. “At Court, there’s always a tattle.”

“Yes.” The Queen curled her lip. “It makes me ill.”

“Why do you ask what I know about Russell?” Janice queried her.

The Queen gave a short laugh. “I don’t like state secrets to get out. That’s why.
So if I find this little bird of whom you speak, he or she will have to answer to
me.

“Is there a secret about Russell?” Janice asked her.

“Is this a joke?” The Queen stared at her. “Do you think that if there were, I’d share
it with
you
? Don’t you know intrigue is carried out behind closed doors? You’d make a terrible
spy.”

“But we
are
behind a closed door, Your Majesty. And I’m to marry Halsey. Shouldn’t I know everything
there is to know about His Grace’s family?”

The Queen bit her lower lip. “No. No one shall know.”

Janice sighed. “All right then. But may I ask you a question?”

The Queen cackled. “I don’t have to answer it.”

“Very well.” Janice cleared her throat. “Do you know someone named Emily March?”

“Why, you wily thing.” The Queen’s eyes narrowed, and then she looked over Janice’s
head to Mrs. Poole, who was conveniently snoring in her chair. “How much must I pay
you for your silence?” she whispered to Janice.

She gulped. “Nothing, Your Majesty. I-I’m a loyal subject. But can’t we at least discuss
the … the situation involving Miss March?”

“I’ve nothing to add to the subject.” The would-be monarch sounded much more sober
than her usual self. “It’s a pity. A vast pity.”

“What is, Your Majesty?”

“That he’s missing.” She twisted her handkerchief. “But it must remain that way. I
know what’s best. Don’t question me.”

“But who’s missing?” Janice wished
she
had a handkerchief to twist, too.

“Him.” The Queen lofted one magnificent brow.

“Do you mean Russell?”


No.
Russell died. Nincompoop.”

Janice brushed off the insult. Somehow this story involved Luke’s mother, and she
must get to the bottom of it. “Perhaps you mean Liam.”

The Queen shook her head sadly. “He was a good subject. One of my best.” She got a
naughty look in her eyes. “He was a man’s man, and he knew how to make a woman feel
like a woman.”

“I see.” Janice bit back a smile. She felt the same way about Luke. He’d made her
feel adored. The memory of his caresses—his face as he looked at her—made her shift
in her chair.

“You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?” the Queen asked archly. “You have a
lover.”

“Had one,” said Janice. “Yes.”

“But it wasn’t Halsey.”

Janice shook her head. “Sorry.”

Her Majesty shrugged. “It’s the story of most marriages in the ton.”

Janice tried to focus again. “Let’s get back to the person who’s missing. Are you
possibly referring to Everett?”

“No. Not Everett.” The Queen winced and put a hand on her heart. “Oh, dear Everett.
I miss him, too.”

There were traces of the dowager in the Queen, and Janice felt sorry for her. “Then
who, Your Majesty? Who else is missing?”

“The boy,” she said plainly. “But he must stay gone. Halsey needs his position. And
as you’re marrying him”—she wagged a finger at Janice—“you’d do well to help him keep
it. So,
ss-s-sh-h-h
.” She put her fingers to her mouth and made a gesture as if she were turning a key
in a lock.

Janice’s head was dizzy with this new revelation. There was a boy. Missing. Perhaps
the dowager meant Halsey. But did she mean someone else? Could Emily and Luke’s story
be tied into this one?

“Do you know where the boy is?” Janice asked her.

“You ask too many questions.” The Queen looked down her nose at her. “Go away now.
Don’t you know when an audience is over?”

 

Chapter Twenty-five

 

It had been the week from hell. He loved her. Deuce it all, Luke loved Janice. He’d
figured it out on that debacle of a sleigh ride back to Halsey House, in the middle
of enduring Grayson’s stupid posturing as he presented her with what looked like a
dog collar to claim her as his own.

Apart from the fact that Luke’s beloved apparently didn’t know him anymore, had embraced
her new role as Grayson’s fiancée, and had made no effort to contact him about his
mother’s missing journal, the low point had come when Aaron and Oscar carried the
puppies and Esmeralda to the house. Luke was disgusted with himself for feeling a
huge jolt of pain when he saw Esmeralda’s furry head peering back at him over Aaron’s
shoulder. Oscar carried away the basket of puppies.

Luke cursed, rolled up his sleeves, and punched a bag of oats for an entire hour.
That dog and her pups reminded him of Janice. He’d miss them. He missed
her.
He missed how she chatted with him about little things. How she watched him speak
as if what he had to say mattered. And he missed running his hands down her bare back
and tugging her close.

He was a fool. Every night he put the lantern in the window.

But she never came.

And each time he extinguished that lantern, he realized it was getting harder to be
the solitary man he knew he should be. With her gone, he was back to keeping to himself,
except when he taught the other lads to knuckle box, which he admitted to himself
now he thoroughly enjoyed.

Outside of that, he found himself hoping for some conversation. A joke here. A chat
there. But everyone was so used to his silence, they didn’t speak to him much.

With Janice gone, each day was routine to the point of utter dullness. He almost wished
there were more drunken baronets to look after—well, no, that wasn’t very kind of
him. But he could stand to see the two peers again—the prig, Rowntree, and the dunce,
Yarrow, who’d left in a hurry the same day they’d made that excursion to the dower
house. At least when they were here, Luke could make fun of them behind their backs
with the other stablemen.

The female houseguests had gone as well. The roads were passable but difficult, so
Lady Janice told them to take their time before they left. But according to Aaron,
Miss Branson had said Americans waited for nothing and were afraid of nothing, so
they’d ventured forth, too. Janice, Mrs. Friday, and Isobel had waved them off with
handkerchiefs and smiles and wishes for good luck.

And in the stable block nothing of any significance was happening: no new stallions,
and foaling season wasn’t for a while. Aaron and some other stable hands were inspired
by Luke’s frustration and, along with him, punched bags of oats every night to build
up their stamina while Oscar sat back and watched. He’d knuckle boxed himself as a
young man and had his own tips to offer to the boys.

The only noticeable change of pace occurred when the snow melted enough that the vicar,
of all people, came to visit Halsey House. Luke caught a glimpse of Lady Janice on
the front steps, there to greet the esteemed visitor. And Luke remembered the day
he’d cleaned those front steps for her.

How things could change in less than a fortnight!

“The vicar’s never been here before,” Aaron said over a juicy drumstick at their dinner.
“What the devil is going on?”

“Watch it with the language.” Luke drank his glass of ale in one giant swallow.

Aaron made a face. “You tell me to watch my language, when you’ve been cursing like
a sailor all week?”

“Do as I say, not as I do.”

“Not only that, you’ve been drinking more lately,” Aaron accused him. “Watch out yourself—it’ll
ruin your flat belly.”

“Are you telling me what to do?” Luke gave him his most lethal stare.

Aaron’s eyes widened, and he jumped up from the table. “No-o-o,” he said. “Not me!”

He ran away before Luke could grab him by the tail of his shirt and put him in a headlock
right there.

Out of reach, Aaron said, “Don’t forget the meeting downstairs about the special visit
coming up.”

“A meeting?” Luke asked. “Who’s coming this time? The King?”

“No.”
Aaron chuckled at his ignorance. “The Marquess and Marchioness of Brady are arriving
two days from now.”

Luke hid his dismay. “So soon?” He looked at Oscar.

“The mail coach started up again,” Oscar said, “slightly slower than usual because
of the roads. His Grace just heard back this afternoon.”

Aaron’s cheeks were two bright red circles of excitement. “The butler said he heard
from the secretary that Lord Brady’s withholding his consent until he meets with the
duke in person and speaks to his daughter. And he’s bringing almost his entire family.”

“Good Lord, there are a lot of them, aren’t there?” Luke looked to Oscar.

“Indeed, there are.”

“So we all have to make a tremendous impression.” Aaron grinned. “That’s why we’re
to have the meeting.”

Oscar shook his head. “It won’t sit well with the marquess and marchioness that Halsey
gave Lady Janice that fine ruby necklace already.”

It didn’t sit well with Luke, either. Not that anyone cared.

When Aaron went downstairs, Oscar and Luke were the only two left at the table. The
older man tipped back in his chair and threw his own drumstick on his plate. “You
like her, don’t you?”

“Who?” Luke said, and couldn’t help feeling testy.

“Oh, you know who. Lady Janice. You’re always asking about her. In subtle ways.”

“And you never tell me anything.” Luke crossed his arms and looked out the window
at the patches of brown appearing all over the meadow.

“It’s my way of trying to get you thinking of other things, lad,” Oscar said. “But
you have good taste. Highfalutin taste.” He chuckled.

Luke looked back at him. “This isn’t helping.”

The driver shrugged. “A long time ago, I was in love with Lady Brady.”

“Lady Brady?”

“See? You know how impossible that would be.”

“If you think I need reminding that I can’t have Lady Janice—”

“No, you’re a clever man. But let me tell you my story. When I saw Lady Brady the
first time, in her sewing shop, she was a sweet little miss with a smile that made
you thank God to be alive. I fell hard. Right along with Lord Brady.” Oscar shook
his head and chuckled. “Just because we’re workingmen doesn’t mean we don’t have hearts.”

“Did Lord Brady know?”

“Of course he did! He patted me on the back and said he understood. And he wasn’t
at all cocky about it. He truly felt sorry for me, because he loved her, too, and
he said that he didn’t know how he’d live if she didn’t love him back.” Oscar was
silent, remembering. A flash of pain on his face told Luke that this story was no
idle tale. “He gave me forty pounds that Christmas. A whole two years’ wages. And
he offered me unfettered access to his favorite fishing cottage at Ballybrook for
life.”

“You were lucky.”

Oscar laughed. “And then he told me I was a dirty old man. Lady Brady was a good twenty
years younger than I.”

“You
are
a dirty old man.” A grin slipped out, and Luke leaned forward. “So do you have any
advice? And by the way, don’t say a word. I’m appalled at myself for letting this
happen. I never thought it would.”

“Don’t be so surprised.” Oscar took his measure. “You’re a red-blooded man. Just move
on. Build a life for yourself. I did, and it’s a good one.”

“You’re not married,” Luke noted.

Oscar lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “I was never the marrying type. My love for
Lady Brady wasn’t as true as Lord Brady’s. I came to see it was more an infatuation.
Even had I been her equal in station, I never would have pursued her. I like my freedom.”

“Obviously.”

“You do, too, I take it.”

Luke took a minute to answer. “I thought I did.”

Oscar pointed at him. “Here’s the test—if you felt you had a fighting chance, would
you offer for her?”

Luke pushed back from the table. “Don’t ask me things like that.”

“Ah.” Oscar stood, too. “So your temper’s up. That’s a dead giveaway. You
would
offer for her.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“Are you certain?”

“Of course,” he lied.

“Then you’ve got a lovely case of infatuation.” There was a new twinkle in Oscar’s
eye. “True love takes you to the edge of the cliff and right on over. You should be
relieved, lad. I know I am. I was beginning to pity you.”

“I don’t need pity from anyone.” Luke sent him a warning look, although he tried to
keep it light, out of respect for the older man. At the moment, Luke wanted nothing
more than to be left alone.

“I know you’re ready to be rid of me.” Oscar’s voice was softer now. “But I want you
to know that even mere crushes die hard, so give yourself some time.” He slapped Luke’s
back. “Who knows? Before you know it, another girl might come along, one of your own
station. A girl you’ll truly love.”

“I don’t want to hear that.”

“I know. Get angry at me. I’d rather you do that than mope.” The driver winked at
him and clattered down the stairs like a kid.

Luke watched him go. He was more uneasy than ever after that conversation. He’d outright
lied to Oscar—and Oscar probably knew it, too. Of course Luke would offer for her.
But what could he do?

Truly?

How could a man in love with the wrong woman ever make it right?

He couldn’t. The knowledge burned, but it cleared a spot in his muddled thinking.
His feelings for Janice had jeopardized his mission to help St. Mungo’s, but it wasn’t
too late to fulfill it.

And she might think marriage to his cousin was endurable, but if she found that journal
she’d be wrecking her own wedding plans.

BOOK: Say Yes to the Duke
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