Chapter 36
Thirty-Six
Asennight later, Theo reached down and offered his hand as April stepped from the carriage. She placed her gloved fingers into his and allowed him to steady her as her boots touched the gravel drive. He did not release her hand, not yet.
She stood for a moment, eyes lifted to the great facade of Stone Hall.
The breeze caught the hem of her cloak and tugged it lightly as if urging her forward, but she did not move just yet.
She stared upward with the stillness of a woman bracing herself not because of fear but because of some invisible threshold newly crossed.
Theo watched her profile—serene, thoughtful, no trace of the dread that once clung to her when she thought of this place. He felt something coil tight in his chest, something deep and protective and painfully tender.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, and his voice nearly caught on the question.
April turned toward him with a smile that lit every corner of him. “Like a brave prince banished all my fears,” she said, her gaze warm. “And like this is home.”
God help me, Theo thought, I would burn the whole world just to keep that look in her eyes. I would set it alight and never ask for the ashes.
He wanted to pick her up, spin her in a wide circle, kiss her until the sun dipped beneath the trees. Instead, he squeezed her hand and led her up the steps.
Redmond waited at the door, flanked by Mrs. Maple and nearly every servant who could fit discreetly into the foyer. The air inside the hall held a faint trace of lavender and woodsmoke.
“Your Grace,” Redmond intoned with genuine pleasure. “Welcome home.”
Mrs. Maple bobbed a curtsy, beaming. “It warms my heart to see you both looking so well. We’ve kept everything just as you like, and the kitchen has prepared a small welcome supper.”
“We are so glad to have our duchess back,” said one of the maids, her cheeks pink with excitement.
April’s voice was gracious but light. “Thank you, all of you. I am so happy to return to such warmth.”
Theo added, “We’ve missed the hall—and its company.”
There were murmurs of pleased assent before Redmond ushered them forward, leading them through the familiar halls as though nothing had changed. Yet everything had.
They stepped into the drawing room, and April moved to the window, brushing her fingers over the back of the settee. She glanced toward him over her shoulder, her eyes beautiful, bright, and curious.
“It feels different,” she murmured.
“The drawing room?”
“No,” she said, turning fully to face him. “Being back. Being here with you. It’s as though something has shifted.”
“It has,” he said. “You’ve turned this place from a mausoleum into something alive. And mine is not the only heart grateful for it.”
She laughed gently. “You speak as though you were the one rescued.”
“Perhaps I was. Perhaps you came to Stone Hall to save us both.”
She stepped toward him then, close enough for her skirts to brush against his legs. “And what if I told you I rather liked the thought of saving a brooding duke?”
“Then I should say he is now a thoroughly ruined man.”
Her gaze softened. “Not ruined. Just… better.”
He caught her waist, unable to restrain the impulse any longer. “May I kiss my wife in her own drawing room?”
She turned to him, eyes shining. “Only if you mean to make a thorough affair of it.”
He kissed her then, slow and sure, savoring the feel of her. Her hands curled at his collar, and he felt the world narrow to the press of her lips.
When they parted, she tilted her head. “Do you intend to do this all day?”
“Without pause. Though I suppose I must let you breathe.”
“I was under the impression breathing was optional in marriage.”
“Ah, but not kissing. That is absolutely required.”
She gave him a knowing look. “And what would the servants think?”
“That their duke is at last in possession of his wits.”
“A rare day indeed,” she said, laughing. “Though I fear we must give them more to talk about. I mean to send an invitation to Aunt Eugenia.”
“You astonish me. Is this peace offering or strategic assault?”
“Neither. I simply want her to see what we’ve made of the place. Let her see what a duchess looks like when she is loved.”
He touched her cheek. “She will not know what to make of it.”
“Good. Confusion will do her good.”
“You are becoming ruthless, Duchess.”
“Only when provoked. And only with certain people.”
He gave a low laugh. “I may never recover from you.”
She tilted her head again. “Then don’t. I should not like you any other way.”
“And I should not like to be anything else.”
Their eyes met, and the silence that followed was thick with all the things they still dared not name.
She laughed. “Scandalous. Shall I ring for tea while you consider kissing me again?”
“If you must. But I should like to keep you all to myself until dinner.”
She leaned back, still smiling. “I thought to invite Aunt Eugenia soon. I want her to see the new Stone Hall.”
“That is a splendid idea.”
“Quite so.”
A knock interrupted them. Theo called, “Enter.”
Redmond stepped in, a small stack of missives in his hand. “Correspondence for you, Sir. It arrived by the midday post.”
Theo looked at the bundle. “Leave it in the study. I shall attend to them shortly.”
Redmond bowed and withdrew.
April moved to the hearth. “You’d best go before duty calls more loudly.”
Theo kissed her again, a parting touch that lingered longer than intended. “I will not be long.”
The walk to his study felt heavier with every step. Each footfall sounded like a warning: You are happy. That makes you vulnerable.
He shut the door behind him and crossed to the desk. The first letter bore the careful, coded seal of Charles Smythe.
He slit it open.
Inside, in Smythe’s crisp, exacting hand, were the following lines:
Your Grace,
As you requested, I have looked into the man Michael Linwood. It appears he is not merely idle or discontent but has a history. He was once affiliated with a group of highwaymen and smugglers based near Kent known as The Mercies.
This group is rumored to be responsible for several incidents of violence, particularly near the River Severn. The name arises in connection with smuggling of spirits—brandy primarily—but also reports of intimidation, assault, and one unresolved disappearance.
Linwood’s name appears twice in old ledgers found during an unrelated estate raid, both times connected to known members of the gang. There is also mention of a payment made to him in exchange for ‘silence regarding an incident involving the river’ though no further details are recorded.
I fear he may not have left those dealings as far behind as some might wish to believe.
Yours in discretion,
Charles Smythe
The name struck like a low bell in Theo’s mind. The Mercies.
He stood abruptly, folded the letter, and secured it in his coat. Within minutes, he was mounted and riding hard for town, wind tearing at his coat and thoughts racing faster than his horse.
The Bow Street office in Gloucestershire was modest, brick-fronted, its sign swinging faintly in the breeze. He dismounted, handed off his horse, and entered.
“Your Grace,” said a clerk with a bow.
“Where is Elderman?”
“He is in.”
Theo was shown through to the inner chamber where Elderman stood near a wall map, marking a small cluster of towns. The smell of ink and damp parchment clung to the walls.
“Your Grace,” Elderman said as he bowed. “I take it you received something new.”
“Yes. The name the Mercies came up. Does it mean anything to you?”
Elderman straightened. “More than a little. They’re the reason this office was opened. For a time, they went quiet, but there are whispers again. We have one of our men in their ranks.”
“What sort of whispers?”
“Smuggling. Brandy. Possibly worse. We’ve got wind of a delivery planned in a sennight. Near the river path in Lower Caddington. The men we’re watching move fast, and they don’t leave much behind. If we act, it must be that night.”
Theo narrowed his eyes. “Is there any official incentive?”
“There is,” Elderman said. “A bounty from the Crown. If we can catch the Mercies in the act, the reward is considerable.”
Theo’s jaw set. “If the man who murdered my family is among them, then I’ll place a bounty of my own.”
Elderman gave a slow, grim smile and bowed. “We are at your service, Your Grace.”
“I’m coming with you when you set out.”
Elderman did not object. “We leave at dusk, Your Grace. Bring a dark coat.”
Theo nodded once then turned away.
For April. For her safety. I will not fail her. Never again. I have let shadows gather once before. I will not do so twice.
The ride back to Stone Hall was brisk, and the world blurred around him as he urged the horse onward, his mind in tumult with names, memories, and shadows. The Mercies. Linwood. The bounty. He had spoken with certainty, but certainty did not quiet the dread.
I am moving toward the truth, and yet each step feels as if it takes me further from peace.
He arrived just as the sun tipped low behind the hills, streaking the horizon in soft amber light.
The familiar silhouette of the manor rose ahead, comforting and ominous in equal measure.
As he stepped into the foyer, shaking rain from his shoulders, he found Redmond taking the coat of a stout, silver-haired gentleman.
“Mr. McMichael,” Theo said, surprised. “You are early.”
The solicitor turned. “Your Grace. I trust your business in town was fruitful?”
“It was illuminating. Come.” He gestured toward the hall. “Let us speak in my study.”
They walked together through the hallway, past ancestral portraits and oil lamps casting soft halos of light, and into the paneled quiet of the Duke’s study. Theo gestured for him to sit then moved to pour a small glass of brandy for them both.
“What news?”
Mr. McMichael opened his satchel and drew out a folder of documents, removing his gloves with careful precision. “The property in Kent has been secured. You have full possession as of this morning.”
Theo nodded, setting the brandy down beside the folder. “Excellent. She will be pleased.”
He dipped the pen and signed where McMichael indicated, each stroke neat and deliberate.
“Anything further required of me?”
“Only one thing remains,” McMichael replied as he tucked the documents away. “For Lady Darnell to take up residence. The household has been instructed to begin preparations as soon as she arrives.”
Theo stood and extended his hand. “Then we are finished. My thanks, McMichael.”
They exchanged brief farewells, and the solicitor departed with Redmond at his side. Theo watched them disappear down the hallway then turned back, heart already pulling him elsewhere.
He climbed the stairs, not slowly but not rushing either. The desire to see April again was tempered by the sharp edge of the world outside these walls. Each time he looked at her, he feared it might be the last moment of peace.
He found her in her chambers, the light golden and warm from the hearth, the scent of lavender and soft powder lingering in the air. Her lady’s maid was fastening the last pearl pin in her coiffure, her delicate profile outlined by the firelight.
“Your Grace,” the maid said, seeing him in the doorway.
“Leave us if you please.”
She curtsied and disappeared with a whisper of skirts and a knowing glance.
April turned, her expression softening when she saw him. There was something in her eyes—a calm welcome, a warmth he had never seen turned toward another.
He crossed to her in two steps and pulled her into his arms, breathing her in.
“I missed you,” she said, hands curling against his chest.
He bent and kissed her brow, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. Then he took her hand and led her to the chaise by the window. He sat and drew her gently onto his lap.
“Comfortable?” he asked, one hand resting at her waist.
“Very.” Her voice was no louder than the fire behind them.
They sat in silence a moment, the troubled of the world fading under the intimacy of the room. He smoothed her hair back, one finger lingering at her temple, committing her to memory.
“I’m close,” he said at last.
“Close to what?”
“To uncovering who orchestrated it. My family’s death.”
Her breath caught, but she didn’t interrupt. Her fingers gently circled his, encouraging.
“Linwood worked with a group called the Mercies. Smythe traced his name in old ledgers, and Bow Street is preparing a raid. There is a planned delivery. I’ve given my word I’ll be there.”
She placed her hand over his heart. “Are you certain it’s them?”
“Not yet. But I will be. If the man responsible is there, he won’t walk away again.”
He cannot. I have let this rot go unchallenged for too long. I must be the one to see it ended.
She pressed her forehead lightly to his, her breath soft and even. “Promise me you’ll come back.”
He nodded, the words lodging in his throat. Promises were fragile things in the face of danger, but she needed to hear it, so he made it.
“And there’s more. I secured the property in Kent.”
She pulled back slightly to look at him, her lips parting. “For Aunt Eugenia?”
“Yes. It’s hers. She can leave Rothmere Park. It’s a fine estate—apple trees, wide meadows. She’ll have peace.”
“She will adore it,” April said. “And I’m glad she’ll be near.”
Theo’s arms tightened around her as if he could shelter her from what was coming. She was everything warm and right in a world grown too dark.
He went quiet. His thoughts strayed—across the weeks ahead, the risk, the men he would face. He thought of April alone in this manor should anything happen to him. That fear was the sharpest.
She reached up, her thumb pressing between his brows. “You look so serious. Positively stony.”
He smiled, slow and reluctant. “I was born with this face.”
“Yes, but it softens when you look at me.”
“Does it?”
“Considerably. You’re quite handsome when you do that.”
He laughed then, a sound that shook the tension in his chest loose. “You ruin me.”
“Good. I rather mean to.”
He kissed her, long and slow, allowing himself the small comfort of her presence, the scent of her hair, the way her fingers curled around his.
Then he stood, brushing his hand down his coat. “I must dress for dinner.”
She nodded. “Don’t be long.”
He hesitated in the doorway, turning to look back one last time.
Please let me be enough. Let me be the man she believes me to be. The man who returns.
And yet, as he left her chambers, the constriction in his chest did not ease. The dread had only grown in intensity, curling behind his ribs like smoke.
I am close to resolving this nightmare, yet victory still feels far. And failure—failure is too great a cost to name.