The Duke Identity (Game of Dukes #1)(93)

Yet it was more than the physical joy of sharing their bodies. Bennett was opening up to her in ways he never had before. He showed more of his playful side, revealing a levity to his character that had been dimmed in the past by his brooding intensity. He teased her mercilessly about her city ways, and they’d actually had a food fight during last night’s supper. She still wasn’t certain who’d won. Although, given the steamy bath they’d shared in the copper tub afterward, perhaps they were both winners…

He also shared anecdotes of his boyhood here in the country, the pranks he and his favorite sister Violet played on one another. It had sounded so wonderful that she’d blurted her desire to meet Violet and the rest of his family. And sudden unease had prickled her nape when his expression had abruptly shuttered.

Is he embarrassed to introduce me to his sisters? Does he think they won’t approve of me?

When she voiced her fears, his gaze had softened. “My sisters will love you, sprite. That I promise you.”

She had to believe him. And, truthfully, his wasn’t the only family she had to worry about. Once the peril was over and Grandpapa was restored to his throne—and she believed with every fiber of her being that he would be—she would have to convince him and her father to let her marry Bennett.

Grandpapa might be the easier of the two to win over. He’d entrusted her to Bennett’s care, after all, which showed his regard for her guard. Moreover, all that Bennett had done to help the House of Black fight their enemies would surely land him in Grandpapa’s good stead.

Her father, however, was a different story. She knew he didn’t like Bennett, and Malcolm Todd wasn’t a man whose mind was easily changed. Perhaps the only one who could sway him might be Mavis. As soon as Tessa returned to London, she would speak to her mama.

Suddenly, something caught her eye…a plume of dust in the window. A carriage. Coming down the tree-lined lane toward the house.

“Grandpapa,” she breathed.

With thrumming excitement, she ran for the door, Swift Nick bounding at her heels. She rushed past Bennett, who called her name, but she was too filled with relief and joyful anticipation to stop. She reached the carriage just as it halted.

The door opened; the words of welcome died on her lips.

The Duke of Ranelagh and Somerville descended from the carriage, elegant as always in a maroon frock coat and buff trousers.

“Your Grace,” she said in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

Ransom bent at the waist. “Why, I’ve come to fetch you, my dear.”

“I do not require fetching.” She frowned at him, feeling Bennett’s presence behind her. “How did you know I was here?”

“I know a great many things, Miss Todd. Including the identity of your, ahem, bodyguard here.” Ransom slanted a cold and strangely triumphant glance at Bennett. “Do you want to tell her or shall I?”

“I know who Bennett is,” she scoffed.

She looked to her lover for confirmation—and his flinch, the wary tension of his large frame sent a sudden shaft of apprehension through her.

“Tessa,” he said in a low, urgent tone, “there are things I need to tell you. I would have told you earlier, but—”

“But he didn’t want you to know that he’s been lying to you for the entirety of your acquaintance.” Ransom smiled thinly. “He lied to get into your grandfather’s employ; Bennett is not his real name. He is, in fact, Harry Kent, a disgraced scientist and a member of the Metropolitan Police Force. He was sent on a covert mission to spy on your family.”

“What?” Shock numbed her. “You…you’re making that up. Bennett,”—she turned desperately to her lover—“tell him that isn’t true.”

The expression on Bennett’s face struck her heart like a dagger.

“My name is Harry Kent, and I do work for the police. I was sent to investigate your grandfather,” he said hoarsely, “but the goal of the mission soon changed to stopping the hellfire. We’re on the same side. Once I got to know you, your family, I realized—”

“He realized he could land himself a bigger fish,” Ransom cut in. “How paltry a policeman’s wages must have seemed compared to the dowry of Bartholomew Black’s granddaughter.”

“Devil take you, that had nothing to do with it,” Bennett—no, Harry Kent—snarled.

“My mistake,” the duke drawled. “Perhaps I have you confused with that other Kent family. You know, Ambrose Kent, ex-investigator who married the divine, and divinely rich, Marianne Draven. Or Emma Kent, who netted herself the Duke of Strathaven—”

“One more word about my family, and I’m calling you out,” Kent growled.

“A gentleman’s duel? How ironic coming from you,” Ransom shot back.

“Stop.”

The word came from her lips, but it seemed to come from some place far away. Some place that was housed in ice, numbing the pain that was spreading like a crack, threatening to splinter her into pieces. The man she loved, the only man she would ever love, had betrayed her.

He’d never wanted her. He’d been using her as a means to an end: as an instrument to destroy her family.

“Tessa, I swear I was going to tell you everything once the danger was over.” Kent was talking, but all she could think was, You’re lying. All of it. Lies. “Your grandfather, he knew all along who I was. And he agreed that telling you the truth now would risk—”