The Duke Identity (Game of Dukes #1)(90)

“Then we’ll grow two plants with one seed. We’ll keep you safe here and give you a sampling of country living.” Smiling, Bennett unlatched the garden gate for her.

She passed through a trellised archway blooming with yellow roses, and her eyes widened with wonder. “This is your family home?”

To her, the place could have come from a storybook. The cottage was built of gingerbread-colored brick, with cheerful windows and ivy climbing the walls. Surrounded by overgrown hedgerows and rose bushes, the cottage had a cozy, tumbledown charm.

“We sold the one that my siblings and I grew up in. This is Ambrose’s cottage.”

“He won’t mind that we’re staying here?” she said tentatively.

Taking her hand, he led her through the open door. “Family is always welcome.”

Her chest swelled at being included in his family. At the recognition of how much he was doing for her. For so long, she’d gone at things on her own, and it meant everything to know that she had a champion who would help her slay dragons. That she didn’t have to face the world alone. That when she needed him most, Bennett was there.

Her fingers tightened around his.

Inside, the cottage had a charmingly rustic feel. The parlor boasted plump, chintz-covered furniture and shelves of books; it was a place that invited one to curl up and relax. Bennett gave her a quick tour of the kitchen, dining area, and snug bedchambers at the back of the house.

“I put your things in here.” He led her into the master suite, which had a massive tester bed and chaise longue by the fire. “There’s a bathing room through that door. Perhaps you’d care to wash up?”

“In a moment.” She bit her lip. “Bennett, will Grandpapa and Father be all right?”

“The situation is precarious.” His tone was somber, and she was glad he didn’t try to lie to her. “But Bartholomew Black has ruled this long for a reason. He’s a strong man, and he’s surrounded himself with strong allies. Moreover, he’s smart: he knew about O’Toole and De Witt and…” He hesitated, some emotion crossing his face that she couldn’t read.

“And?” she prompted.

“And everything important to him is at stake.” Bennett cupped her cheek, and she absorbed his warmth. “Your grandfather has a plan, I’m sure of it. You must stay strong and play your part.”

“You’re right.” Sighing, she nestled closer. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”



* * *



Sometime past midnight, Harry lay in bed, hands tucked behind his head. Without the fog and smoke of London, clear moonlight streamed through a part in the curtains, and he stared up at the shadows frolicking on the ceiling. He couldn’t sleep. Because of worry…and guilt.

Black knew who he was, that he’d been working for the police. The cutthroat had chosen to trust him nonetheless because of his family. Because Black knew that Harry would do the right thing. Now Tessa was the only one who didn’t know the truth, and Harry burned to tell her everything. To unburden himself of the deception, beg her forgiveness, and start afresh, no lies between them.

But he couldn’t. Because Black was right. To break the news to her now would compromise her safety. Her focus needed to be on evading her family’s enemies and to distract her from that would be an act of selfishness on his part.

The right thing to do now was to fulfill his promise to her grandfather. To protect her. Only when the danger was over could he be free to confess everything.

To ask her to marry him.

It had taken seeing Celeste again to make him realize that the wound of his past had healed. That the heart he’d given as a young man was not the heart that beat in him now. And what Tessa had bestowed upon him—the sweet, generous bounty of her love—humbled him down to his soul.

He was the luckiest bastard alive that she’d chosen him.

Devil and damn, he couldn’t wait for this business to be over. Hopefully, it soon would be, with the help of his family. Before his departure, he’d entrusted Doolittle with a note to deliver to Ambrose. In it, he’d asked Ambrose to offer Black any assistance that he could. While Harry didn’t want to risk exposing his present location should the note fall into unintended hands, he knew his family would worry if they didn’t know where he was.

Thus, he’d written simply that he’d gone “home.” He’d told them he would return when it was safe, and they needn’t worry or come after him.

All there was to do now was…wait.

The soft squeal of hinges made Harry jerk, bolt upright in bed.

His heart raced as he saw Tessa enter the bedchamber. She wore a billowing white night rail, her bare toes peeping beneath the hem. Her hair was a glossy mass tumbling over her shoulders.

Having bid goodnight to her over an hour ago, he hadn’t been expecting company and was in his usual uniform for bedtime. That is, in the buff. Hastily, he pulled the bedclothes closer around his bare torso, where’d they fallen when he sat up.

He cleared his throat. “Something amiss, sprite?”

“I couldn’t sleep. It’s too quiet here…and too loud.” She came to the side of the bed, her eyes wide. “Are those blasted birds going to chirp all night?”

He cocked his head, listening. He smiled slowly. “Those are crickets, love.”