The Duke Identity (Game of Dukes #1)(45)
“Marianne is well and sends her love.” Ambrose’s amber eyes were warm as he spoke of his beloved. “Little Sophie continues to be a sweet, mild-mannered child, and Edward is…Edward.”
Harry’s lips twitched. Ambrose’s heir Edward had gone from being a precocious boy to a certifiable genius whose curiosity oft landed him in hot water (a fate Harry could identify with). Edward was undoubtedly responsible for some of the silver swathing through his papa’s dark hair.
“Enough about me. What is going on with you, lad?” Ambrose said quietly. “First Davies contacts me, telling me to keep the family at bay. Then I receive that cryptic message via mudlark that you wanted to meet in secret today.”
Seeing the lines on his brother’s brow, Harry felt another tug of guilt. Being the eldest by some dozen years (Ambrose’s mama had been their papa’s first wife), Ambrose took the responsibilities of being the family patriarch seriously.
He proceeded to fill his brother in on the last fortnight. He shared most details but left out the intimate ones concerning Tessa. Despite what she might believe, she was a lady and deserved his protection. Moreover, he wasn’t comfortable discussing feelings that he, himself, did not fully understand.
At the conclusion, Ambrose swore. “Bloody hell, you’re spying on Bartholomew Black? Are you out of your mind? The man’s the most dangerous cutthroat in all of London!”
While his brother had a point, he was also beginning to see the underworld king through a different lens. He’d witnessed Black’s devotion to his family and people. He thought about what Mrs. Crabtree had said: about all that Black had done for her and for the common folk, the ones to whom the government turned a blind eye.
“Black’s not all bad,” he said slowly.
“His enemies have been found in the Thames. In pieces.”
With care, Harry said, “I recall that you and Marianne had some personal dealings with Black?”
“Marianne owed him a debt. It was paid, and I shall say no more,” Ambrose said firmly. “Black may not be entirely evil, but he’s not to be crossed. Davies was right to send you to me. I’ll find a way to extricate you from Black’s employ. After that, I’ll be at your disposal: I’ll personally help you investigate that bastard De Witt.”
Hell. He wasn’t going to be able to evade the truth. “I cannot leave Black’s employ.”
“Is this about proving your worth? Because of what happened two years ago?”
Bitterness and humiliation welled. Harry couldn’t deny that that was part of it. He’d lost everything: the job at Cambridge, the membership with the Royal Society, his standing with his peers. Was it wrong to try to redeem his good name?
“Brother, it wasn’t your fault. You were duped by a pair of conniving thieves…and worse than thieves, if they are indeed behind this dastardly hellfire.”
“That doesn’t excuse me for being a fool.” Self-disgust throbbed like a festering wound. “For being blinded by my emotions.”
“You were young.” Ambrose’s golden gaze was steady. “You’ve always held your cards close to your chest, lad, yet I wish you would have told me what was happening at the time—”
“There was nothing you or anyone could have done. In the scientific community, Aloysius De Witt is nothing short of royalty, and he decreed that I was a thief. And Celeste helped him to frame me.”
The betrayal still burned.
“Let the past go,” Ambrose urged. “For two years, you risked your neck playing with explosives in that navvy camp. Now you’re back, and you’ve jumped straight into a pit of vipers. You’ve done your penance, Harry, you’ve nothing to prove. You must move on.”
The words struck an uneasy chord. He hadn’t thought of his actions as penance, only a desire to do something right. To reclaim the honor he’d lost.
Now, however, there was more at stake. There was Tessa.
No more hedging.
Taking a breath, he said, “Black and his family are in danger, and I cannot abandon them.”
“You’re worried about Black and his family? Why the devil would you care...oh, hell.” Ambrose’s keen gaze narrowed. “The granddaughter?”
“Tessa’s not like her grandfather,” he said defensively.
“Tessa?”
And this is why I like to hold my damned cards close.
Neck heating, he muttered, “She’s…a nice young lady.”
That might not be the most apt description, yet it was difficult to convey the precise nature of Tessa’s appeal. She was a creature of contradictions. She was undoubtedly brazen, a mischief-maker and an occasional hellion. At the same time, she could be sweet, a vibrant sprite and a young woman with hidden vulnerability. She was unique, damned endearing.
Just thinking of her offer to give a blood oath made him want to laugh.
In truth, Harry didn’t fully understand the intensity of his attraction to her. He only knew that, in her presence, he felt more. More alive, more…himself.
“Didn’t you say that when you met the chit, she was disguised as a lad and fleecing a band of cutthroats?”
“Well, yes, but there’s more to her than that.” Seeing his brother’s look of incredulity, he explained, “She is high-spirited, yes, but mostly in a fun-loving sort of way. She cares a great deal about her family. Her loyalty to those she cares about is unquestionable.”