Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
The first thing April perceived upon waking was the scent. Familiar. Clean linen, cedar, and something distinctly him. She opened her eyes slowly, blinking into the blue-tinged light of a room she did not recognize.
This was not her chamber.
The mattress beneath her was firmer, the bedding crisp. She sat up, the bodice of her dress slightly wrinkled against her ribs. Her dress. She hadn’t changed. The memories settled into place slowly. She had been waiting for Theo, and sleep had claimed her before he returned.
Her gaze shifted around the room until it caught on the figure across from her. Theo.
He was reclining on a settee near the hearth, one arm folded across his chest, the other resting loosely at his side. His head tilted slightly as he slept, the morning light catching the stubble along his jaw.
April rose carefully and tiptoed toward him, her bare feet silent against the floor. She lowered herself beside the settee, knees pressing into the carpet. For a moment, she simply watched him.
You brought me here. You carried me.
It was foolish, the swell of emotion that rose in her chest. Foolish, but impossible to ignore. Something about seeing him like this—unguarded, asleep, a faint crease between his brows—undid her. Her fingers curled against her skirts.
Perhaps it wouldn’t be so terrible, trying to make this into a real marriage.
She bit her lip.
I like his company. I cannot deny that. And he is—well, yes, he is handsome. And funny, in his way. And when I am with him… she exhaled slowly, I feel something suspiciously close to happiness.
The realization stilled her.
Oh no. I’m falling in love with him.
A sound escaped him, a shift in his breath, followed by a low murmur. “Why are you staring at me?”
She startled. “What makes you think I am?”
“I always know when someone is looking at me. It’s a gift.”
His lips curved. He didn’t even open his eyes.
She narrowed hers. “Your eyes are closed.”
“And yet, I am certain.”
“Then perhaps you should use that gift to tell me what I’m thinking.”
“You’re admiring me,” he said, still not opening his eyes. “Possibly debating whether to kiss me. Possibly trying to find a flaw and failing.”
She made a soft sound—something between a scoff and a laugh. “Flawless, are you?”
“Painfully so.”
She shook her head. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet here you are.”
He still didn’t move. Still didn’t look. But the edge of his mouth tugged upward again, just slightly.
Emboldened by the veil of morning and the privacy of this moment, she reached out. Her fingers hovered, hesitated for one last breath—and then slid gently into his hair.
It was just as she’d imagined. Silky. Thick. Warm from the sun and sleep.
His eyes opened.
They met hers directly, and the breath she’d been holding dissolved into stillness. That gaze—so deep, so impossibly blue—captured her completely.
“You are touching me.”
Her hand froze. Heat rushed to her cheeks.
“Should I not touch you?”
He exhaled slowly, lashes sweeping down as his eyes closed again.
“You may do as you please,” he said softly.
And when his eyes opened once more, they were different. Darker. Heavier. Not sleepy anymore, not teasing. Something else entirely.
And he was closer. Or perhaps she was. It didn’t matter.
His mouth is right there. Would it be warm? Gentle? Would he kiss me slowly or all at once?
Her heart pounded. She could barely hear anything over it.
His hand lifted—just the faintest movement, as though he might reach for her cheek. He didn’t. But he could. And she would let him.
This is dangerous. This is foolish. This is...
“I… I ought to dress,” she stammered. “Miss Evans will be in, and it would be terribly improper—”
She rose too fast, stumbled back a step, caught herself, and without daring to look at him again, fled the room.
Her pulse was still racing by the time she closed the door behind her.
I nearly kissed him. I wanted to kiss him. I still do.
Theo walked into the Bow Street Runners’ station, the scent of stale tobacco and ink hitting his senses. The officer who had visited him the night before rose from behind the desk and inclined his head.
“Your Grace.”
“Good morning. Where is he?”
“This way, if you please.”
Theo followed the man through a narrow hallway and into a stark chamber with a single table, a pair of chairs, and a man bound securely with his hands behind him. The man looked up, a smirk tugging at his lips despite the situation.
“Who are you?” Theo asked as he stood in front of him.
“Name’s Adam Smith. Though most call me Knave.”
“What do you know of Michael Linwood?”
Knave snorted. “Haven’t heard that name in a while. When I was just a lad, Linwood paid me to set fire to a warehouse near the Thames. Said he needed the magistrate distracted.”
“Why?”
“He was smuggling.”
Theo’s gaze sharpened. “What was he smuggling?”
“Goods from France. Silk. Brandy. Weapons, maybe. He was careful about specifics.”
“What did he look like?”
Knave leaned back. “It was long ago. Hard to say. But I remember one thing. He had a limp. Walked with a cane.”
“Was he old?”
“No. Young, I’d wager. The limp seemed new. Maybe from an accident.”
“Did he speak like a common man?”
Knave shook his head. “No, Your Grace. He was polished. Well-bred. Had the bearing of a peer.”
Theo stilled. A peer. So now I must hunt one of them. It is harder to bring such men to justice.
This new information wasn’t much, but it was something. A nobleman with a limp. That alone narrowed the field. Slightly.
“What were you caught for?” Theo asked.
“Smuggling. Ambergris. Spices. Nothing too grand but enough to warrant interest of the Runners.”
Theo gave a brief nod and exited the chamber. Outside, he met the officer once more.
“I have finished with him.”
“Any progress, Your Grace?”
“Not enough, but it is something. A thread I intend to follow.”
“We will continue questioning those we detain. Linwood will surface, eventually.”
I hope so. Theo nodded. “Thank you.”
As he mounted his horse and rode toward Westminster, the image of April kneeling beside him that morning returned.
She looked at me as though I were something precious.
He smiled then, and the unfamiliar gesture that caught him by surprise. He lifted a hand and touched the corner of his mouth as if to confirm it was real.
What is she doing to me?
April Roth, Duchess of Stone, was changing him. And he wasn’t sure whether to brace himself or let it happen.
April stood in the music room, surveying the last of the blue brocade drapes being installed, when Redmond stepped inside and bowed. “Your Grace, Mr. Gregory Roth and his family have arrived.”
Her brows furrowed. “Gregory Roth?”
“His Grace’s cousin, Madam.”
April straightened slowly, her mind turning. She had heard not one word of this cousin, not even a passing mention. “I see. And they are… staying at the manor?”
Redmond inclined his head solemnly. “It would appear so.”
His cousin? And not a word of warning?
Mutely, she followed the butler out, her steps brisk. In the foyer, footmen were already carrying boxes up the stairs. She caught sight of a maid juggling a child’s satchel and what looked like a hobby horse. Her brows drew together.
“They could have sent word,” she murmured.
One might expect a duchess to prepare properly for houseguests.
She stepped into the drawing room and found chaos.
Two boys were racing about, one of them narrowly missing a small table. A tall man stood and turned toward her with a broad smile. He bowed. “You must be the Duchess of Stone. Gregory Roth, at your service.”
He was striking, if slightly weathered, with dark hair now silvering at the temples and a warm glint in his blue eyes that reminded her faintly of Theo.
April inclined her head. “Mr. Roth, welcome to Stone Hall.”
He beamed and gestured to the woman beside him. “My wife, Loretta.”
Loretta rose gracefully, the picture of elegance in a cream day dress, her pale blond hair arranged in an elaborate style that spoke of long hours before a mirror. Her eyes—forest green and coolly appraising—swept over April with unmistakable interest.
“What a pleasure,” Loretta said. “I admit, I never imagined Theo would wed a dark-haired woman. He has always had such a preference for pale haired beauties.”
How gracious, April thought, her smile fixed.
Gregory gave a short laugh. “Loretta, really—”
She shrugged lightly though her eyes never left April’s face. “I suppose love surprises us all.”
April’s lips curved into a stiff smile. “Indeed.”
Gregory cleared his throat and clapped his hands. “Boys, come here.”
The two children halted in their play and bounded over.
“Samuel, Everett, this is your cousin’s wife, the Duchess.”
Samuel, the elder, bowed in the jerky way of a boy told to do something he did not fully understand. Everett gave a hurried bow before his attention returned to the room.
April was about to speak when a sharp crash sounded.
She turned. Her heart sank.
At the far end of the room lay a shattered jade vase—the one delivered that very morning. She had chosen it herself after weeks of waiting, its green luster catching the morning sun in the loveliest way. She had been so happy with it.
So much for loveliness, she thought bleakly.
Loretta sighed, looking vaguely toward the mess. “Boys, do behave.”
Her tone lacked any real scolding.
Gregory’s face flushed with embarrassment. “My deepest apologies, Your Grace. That was… not their finest moment. Loretta, take them to the nursery before they ruin anything else.”
“But I am hungry,” Everett announced as his mother pulled him away.
April’s smile thinned. “I’ll have refreshments sent to them.”
Gregory inclined his head. “You are gracious. Thank you.”
She reached for the bell, and Redmond entered a moment later. He paused when he saw the ruined vase and visibly winced.
“I shall tend to that at once, Your Grace.”
“Thank you. And please have a repast sent to the nursery, and tea brought here for Mr. and Mrs. Roth.”
Redmond bowed and vanished.
April lowered herself into a chair, her composure strained by the sudden invasion.
Just as she exhaled, the door opened again.
Theo entered.
He took in the room—Gregory, seated comfortably, April looking composed but tight-lipped, and the mess being swept up in the corner.
“Gregory.”
“Theo,” Gregory rose and clapped him on the back. “Forgive the surprise. We returned from the continent a few days ago and only just heard of your marriage. We thought it a fine excuse to visit and make the acquaintance of your lovely Duchess.”
Theo’s eyes shifted to April then back. “You might have sent word.”
Gregory chuckled. “Would’ve ruined the spontaneity.”
Before Theo could reply, Loretta appeared in the doorway once more. She swept into the room and curtsied with a graceful smile.
“Theo,” she said sweetly, “I can hardly believe it. Married at last.”
She batted her lashes ever so subtly.
Gregory’s arm came around her waist, his smile fixed. “Come now, my dear. Let’s not overwhelm our hosts.”
April watched, unsettled. Gregory seemed charming, warm, even excessively friendly, but there was a strangeness in the way he drew Loretta to him—quick, firm, possessive. As if guarding her from Theo.
And Loretta… There was something beneath that smile. Something too perfect. Too rehearsed.
Why do I feel like the guest in my own home?