While the Duke Was Sleeping (The Rogue Files #1)(63)

It was yet three days before Christmas and the dowager was hopeful that the duke might yet awaken and join them for the celebration.

Lady Enid finished at the pianoforte and they moved into a game of charades.

“Poppy! It’s your turn! Your turn!” Lady Clara clapped excitedly from where she sat after Bryony finished her turn.

Poppy stood from the chaise lounge, dusting her lush purple skirts free of invisible lint. She selected a slip of paper from the bowl, studied it, folded it back up and then set it down on the glossy wood table that held their cups of steaming chocolate.

She moved to stand before the fireplace, her mind already feverishly working on how she would perform this charade when the doors to the drawing room burst open.

All heads swiveled at the intrusion, wide eyes staring at the breathless maid. “It’s the duke! His Grace! He’s up!” She shook her head as though jogging loose the proper words. “He’s awake! Awake!”

Precisely five seconds of silence met her vivid declaration before the room exploded into chaos.



To describe everyone as joyous would be a gross understatement. There were tears and laughter and hugging. The dowager duchess, someone Poppy never suspected as being particularly devout, clapped her hands together and began praising and thanking God with all fervency and sincerity.

The somewhat taciturn Enid was wiping tears from her eyes and Clara was bouncing with more vigor than usual even for her. Even Bryony, who had never met Marcus, participated in the happy melee.

“Let us go!” Lady Autenberry exclaimed. “Come, everyone!”

“Wait!” Lord Strickland waved his hands in the air. “He might not be quite ready for a bombardment of such biblical proportions.” Lord Strickland’s gaze seemed to land on her, conveying some manner of message. He was the only one present who knew the truth of her ruse, after all. He had to know the duke would want an explanation for suddenly finding himself with a stranger for a fiancée.

“Oh.” The dowager’s hand fluttered to her mouth. “Yes, I see your point.” She glanced around the room, gnawing on her lip thoughtfully. “Yes, that would be a bit much.”

“Overwhelming indeed.” Enid nodded in agreement. “Strickland, you should go.”

Everyone else nodded, too. Except Poppy. She couldn’t move. And neither, evidently, could Struan. He held himself stiffly. Only his eyes showed any movement, looking only at her, sliding over her face, assessing her expression.

“I’ll just start weeping. Yes, you go and explain what has happened.” The dowager waved him on. “You’ll be the most levelheaded and you can best assess whether or not he can cope with the lot of us.”

“Very well, then.” Lord Strickland strode from the room, addressing the maid. “Send someone to fetch the physician from the village.”

As soon as he left, merriment returned again.

The dowager duchess grabbed Poppy and pulled her into her embrace. “Oh, Poppy! I knew he would wake. I knew it.”

She nodded, a lump lodged in her throat, threatening to choke her. “Yes, you did.”

The duchess pulled back to look at her, her hands cupping her cheeks warmly. “You believed it, too, my dear girl.”

“Yes.” Poppy nodded, blinking suddenly stinging eyes. “I did believe it. I knew he would be well.”

Then they were hugging again and Poppy’s heart was breaking. Not because the duke was recovered. For that, she was elated, her chest lighter, expanding with relief. She’d prayed for his recovery.

No, it was because this would all come to an end now. The duke was awake. He would tell everyone that she was a fraud, that she was no one to him. They would all know she was no one.

She and her sister would have to leave this place and this family for whom she had come to care. Worse than leaving them, worse than never seeing them again, was knowing that they would hate her—despise her for the liar she was.

She looked over the duchess’s shoulder to find Struan Mackenzie staring at her intently, his gaze unreadable as his eyes drilled into her.

Soon he would know, too. He’d have the truth at last. Not that he ever thought she was good enough for Autenberry in the first place. He always thought her a liar.

She pulled free of the duchess’s embrace. “Excuse me,” she murmured. “I need a moment . . .”

The trail of her words was hardly noticed. Lady Autenberry turned to the rest of her family to celebrate the return of their loved one.

For a moment, Poppy stood there, feeling once again every inch on the outside. Now more than ever. Even though her sister was in the room, as well, clinging happily and obliviously to the new best friend she found in Clara, Poppy was achingly aware of how very alone she was. She didn’t belong here and soon all of these kind people would know that within minutes.

The sting in her eyes returned with a vengeance and she turned, slipping from the room without a backward glance, determined no one see her cry.





Chapter 24




He watched her go amid the happy and noisy exchange. No one else seemed to notice but he did. He was attuned to her every movement.

His skin felt too tight, like it didn’t fit his body anymore. Autenberry was awake.

He’d lost her.

A muffled curse burned on his lips. She was never yours.