Free The Duke's Deceit by Sherrill Bodine Page B

Arabella, who burst through the morning room doors.
    Immediately Charlesworth sprang to his feet.
    “You here, my lord? It is just the thing!” she exclaimed breathlessly. “Your Grace, I am here to throw myself on your mercy.”
    “Good heavens, child, what is it?” She had to suppress a smile at the child’s dramatic and sorrowful pose—even the ruffle around the neck of her puce walking costume drooped in utter dejection.
    “There is a Banbury Fair at Richmond and Lady Sophia Lawton has arranged a party. But my father says I can not attend because I don’t have a proper escort. So I thought perhaps Lord Charlesworth could stand in for Avalon once again.” Arabella looked hopefully at the duchess.
    Although she hated to disappoint her, and was not a whit surprised to see Arabella’s much-admired pout, she was forced to shake her head. “I’m quite sure, my dear, that Richard would never attend a Banbury Fair with you. They are not his idea of a good time. And most certainly he would not inflict such a thing on any friend by requesting him to serve as his envoy. Unless, of course, the friend offered.” Pausing, she switched her calm eyes to Frederick’s rapt face. “Of course, I can not speak for Lord Charlesworth.”
    “I must confess I have a secret passion for fairs. Particularly when there are tumblers and acrobats.” His eagerness to please the beauty was evident.
    “Does that mean you’ll take me?” Arabella gasped in delight.
    He flicked the duchess a look, waiting for her slight nod before answering. “I would be delighted, Lady Arabella,” he agreed, and then executed a perfect bow.
    “Wonderful! We must be off at once!”
    With the briefest of curtsies in the duchess’s direction, Arabella was gone, Charlesworth at her heels. At the doorway he turned, giving her a conspiring wink.
    His kindness with the child was really quite touching. The duchess, always a woman to grasp opportunity with both hands, began to plot the most satisfying of happenings.
    So immersed in these happy daydreams was she that when the door opened abruptly, she was somewhat startled.
    “Mr. Bertrand Peabody and Mr. Ian Masterton,” Wilkens announced ponderously.
    Her gaze passed quickly over the tall, long-faced gentleman in the plain black frock coat, and lingered on the slight redheaded man tugging uncomfortably at his cravat. His resemblance to Jeffries was quite remarkable.
    Richard had been on his way to Edinburgh. This man appeared to be as Scottish as their beloved Jeffries had been.
    With the undeniable instinct she possessed where her children were concerned, she knew that all her questions about Richard were about to be answered.

Chapter 5
    “S o you see, Your Grace, the moment Mr. Masterton arrived on the doorstep I immediately contacted my client, realizing the importance of Mr. Masterton’s possession of the Duke of Avalon’s signet ring. After conferring with the baron I came immediately to relate these tidings to Your Grace. Mr. Masterton
insisted
on being present.” Mr. Peabody concluded his droning recitation of events with a peevish whine.
    The duchess could hardly believe the tale, but the gold ring growing warm in her tight fist served as proof positive. “My son’s memory may be temporarily gone, but he is alive and obviously being well-cared for. This is of utmost import to me.” She turned a smile to where Mr. Ian Masterton had taken a stance at the white marble fireplace. “You have my deep gratitude for all you have done for Richard.”
    Fierce pride blazed from his eyes. “It’s me and my Mary who are the grateful ones, Your Grace. Richard—excuse me, Your Grace—his lordship is a right one! Game as they come.”
    Only by blinking rapidly was she able to hold at bay the tears burning behind her eyes. Had the memory loss allowed Richard to let down his guard with these people? She could only wonder at the girl who might have wrought such a change.
    “Harrumph.” Mr. Peabody