Page 25 of Her Lion of a Duke (Dukes & Beasts #3)

“Why have you not confessed your feelings yet?”

Leonard looked incredulously at the two gentlemen sitting opposite him. He had not expected to see Levi and Morgan for a while, but they had arrived at the manor and insisted on venturing to the village together.

Emma had been corresponding with Cecilia, and when Renshaw visited, Cecilia wrote about her annoyance with the man. It seemed that, rather than Emma coming to see Cecilia herself, she had decided that it would be better for Leonard to be taken out for the day.

And, with everything that had happened, he had to agree with her.

“I cannot explain feelings that I do not understand myself,” he muttered as they walked through the park. “You both know that I have always held my wife in the highest regard. She is a wonderful lady.”

“Indeed, but you cannot pretend that is all you think of her,” Levi pointed out. “Any fool could have seen at that party you held all those years ago that you held a candle for her. Why can you not tell her?”

“It was not that obvious,” Leonard protested.

Then, he thought of all the stolen glances, his insistence that she sit near him at the dining table, the way he watched her command attention. He had always been drawn to her, whether he would admit it or not.

“If I may,” Morgan interjected, “why can’t you tell her that you have such intense feelings? Surely she must have realized it by now.”

“If I have only just recognized them, how could she have?”

“In the same manner that we did. It is not as though you have been discreet. Have you heard the way you talk about her?”

“No.”

“You talk about your wife the way we do ours.” Levi chuckled. “And you will not argue that we do not love our wives endlessly.”

“I speak with admiration. She is a fierce and strong lady who also happens to be someone I respect deeply. Can’t that be all there is to it?”

“It can, but we all know that is not the case. What about this frightens you, Pridefield? You have never been one to be afraid of anything.”

“Because I am not. This does not scare me at all.”

Except that it did. It would have been wonderful if he could go back home, confess his feelings, and have her reciprocate.

But he knew that would not happen. He had only just told her about his visions, and while she had been understanding, he could not fathom her being able to love him. He was not worthy of such affection.

“Then tell her,” Levi said firmly. “Do you think we took pleasure in saying it the first time? It was nerve-wracking, terrifying, but after you say it once, you’ll be able to say it a thousand times and think nothing more of it.

If you never say it, however, you will never know how she feels about you. ”

“Even if we all think it is obvious,” Morgan added.

Leonard rolled his eyes, but he knew there was truth in their words. He wondered why he had found it easier to confess that he had visions of his brother than to admit that he had feelings for his wife.

“Where is she today?” Levi asked. “You mentioned that she was not home.”

“She is with Lady Beatrice, who is in the country with her family.”

“That poor girl. She is a wonderful lady, but with a mother like that…”

“I have never spoken with Lady Jennings. She attended my party, but other than an introduction, she kept her distance.”

“And be thankful for that. I have only seen her on occasion, but whenever I have spoken to her, I have felt quite ill. She cannot stand her daughter.”

Leonard raised an eyebrow, puzzled.

He had always thought that Lady Beatrice was delightful. She was young and perhaps not what polite society expected a lady to look and act like, but he would not change her for anything.

“Whyever not? She is a good friend.”

“Yes, and a mother does not take kindly to her daughter being a friend of gentlemen. A mother expects her daughter to be a wife, and thus far she has not even so much as been courted.”

Levi’s words could have been kinder, but Leonard knew his friend did not mean to be cruel. They all knew what he meant; a lady’s role was to marry well, and if she did not, then she was considered a failure.

It did not matter that Beatrice made excellent cakes and that she was kinder than almost every lady he had ever met. She was unmarried, and therefore her family saw her as a burden.

“I have no doubt that she will find a match,” Leonard stated firmly. “Someone with a nature like hers can only find the purest of love. It is only right.”

“And what sort of love do you want, Pridefield?”

“None at all. I enjoy the friendship I have with my wife, and I do not need anything more. I know that the two of you are romantic, but you must remember that I did not plan on finding love. I just wanted a suitable match.”

“So you married Lady Cecilia, the bluestocking,” Levi snorted. “Come now, Pridefield. You will not fool us that easily.”

Leonard would have been furious at anyone referring to his wife as a bluestocking except his two friends, as they had both known her long enough to say it affectionately. They both respected Cecilia a great deal, as he did.

“Even if I did love her, or some such thing, there is no guarantee that telling her will change anything. If it is so clear to you all, then she will have noticed it, too. As she has not said anything, why should I?”

“Because you are the man,” Morgan argued. “Act like it before she does.”

Leonard thought about that when he was alone in his study that evening. He was to meet with the private investigator, but he was not in the mood.

For the past few days, he had changed his mind so many times about the investigation that he no longer knew what to think.

He wanted to protect his family, but he did not want to have a large disturbance.

He wanted to clear his name, but he wanted to focus on his marriage and all the good it was doing him.

He knew that the right thing was to see the investigation through, so that they could live the rest of their lives in peace, but every time he stood up to leave, he sat back down as if he did not want to know at all.

Something was keeping him from leaving, and his frustration quickly grew. With one final push, he managed to leave the study, step out of the manor, and climb into his carriage.

The dread in his chest coiled tighter as he reached the village. He knocked on the door, and just as he considered leaving, it opened.

“Your Grace,” Mr. Livingston greeted. “Come in.”

Reluctantly, Leonard followed him inside and sat at the table. Leonard could see a hint of triumph in the man’s eyes, but there was something insidious about it.

He had found Felix Gray.

“I am pleased that you have come,” Mr. Livingston began. “Over the last few days, I made some troubling discoveries. I did not wish to interrupt the festivities, but I needed to speak with you.”

“Before you do,” Leonard said quickly, “is what you are about to tell me dreadful?”

“It is not what I would have wanted to hear, believe me. I have uncovered many betrayals in my lifetime, but some stay with you. This, I believe, may be one of them.”

That was not what Leonard wished to hear. Ideally, it would have been someone he hardly knew, who was envious of his standing in Society and wanted to ruin him for it. He would have understood that, as he had his own moments of madness, but for it to be a betrayal…

“Very well. What have you found out?”

“I am afraid that I cannot tell you for certain, but it is likely as you suspected. There have been whispers that your cousin, Lord Renshaw, was seen frequenting the same gentlemen’s club as your brother the night he disappeared.”

Leonard’s blood ran cold, and his arms fell to his sides. “Is this not about Felix Gray?” he asked.

“In a way, it might be, but that is not the important part. People are suggesting that Lord Renshaw was the one to challenge your brother to a duel, only for him to cheat.”

“That is not possible. He would have had to flee the country.”

“Not if there were no witnesses. In a normal duel, yes, one must have a doctor and a second, but if it were in the heat of the moment, it is possible that the two of them left for a secluded area and conducted their awful business there. It would explain why the late Duke was missing for a while, rather than found and given medical care.”

Leonard did not want to believe a word he was hearing. It was one thing to have lost his brother in a duel, but to hear that his cousin might have killed him was another thing entirely.

Renshaw was among the first people to visit him after his wedding. Leonard had opened his home to the man, and all the while, Renshaw might well have been smirking at the fact that he had killed Henry.

Leonard felt nauseous, a twisting sensation in his stomach. He could not say a word.

“Would you like me to stop, Your Grace?”

“No,” he said as calmly as he could. “Please continue. I need to hear this.”

“That is where Felix Gray comes in. He was an established writer at the time, so I do not believe that Lord Renshaw is Felix Gray, but it is entirely plausible that he paid Felix Gray a sum to have him write a piece suggesting that you were the culprit.”

“Why would anyone do that?”

“Why would anyone duel? From what I have learned, your cousin wants more power than he has been afforded. He is supposed to inherit the duchy if something happens to you, yes?”

Leonard paused for a beat, mulling over Mr. Livingston’s words.

It was true that Renshaw was next in line, as he was the closest male relative, but Leonard never would have thought that he would go so far. His cousin liked power, true, but it was such a foolish plan that could have easily gone awry.

Then again, it made sense. If Renshaw had convinced enough people that Leonard was guilty, Leonard might have left the country altogether, paving the way for his cousin to assume the title.

Leaving the country had crossed his mind, but he knew he was innocent, and so he remained in London. It had been excruciating at times, but it became easier eventually.

It was worse, knowing that it was his cousin who inflicted that pain.

“If your suspicions are correct,” he asked in a monotone, “what do we do now?”

“I will handle everything, Your Grace. I want to be certain of everything first, so that there is no chance that he escapes justice. Then, I will escalate the matter. Are you happy with that?”

“I cannot claim to be pleased, but if it is what must be done…”

“Good,” Mr. Livingston uttered. “You may take a moment before you leave, if you wish. It might be good to steady your nerves.”

“I am fine, thank you,” Leonard responded, forcing a smile. “It is a surprise, but I’ve always known that someone killed my brother.”

He sat ramrod straight in his carriage, like a pillar. He refused to break down. Cecilia would have returned home, and she would be waiting for him, and he could not let her see him upset.

It was not fair for her to spend the day consoling her friend, only for him to come home and expect her to console him, too. She needed to rest. He could tell her what he had learned another time.

When he arrived home, however, she was not there. Brutus came to greet him, wagging his tail furiously, but his wife was nowhere to be seen.

Mrs. Herrington came to see him. She looked withdrawn, paper in hand.

“Where is my wife?” he asked.

“She is not home yet,” she replied. “Your Grace, I need to show you something.”

She did not wait for him to respond. Instead, she led him to the stairs. He followed her to his study, and she waited by the door for him to let her in.

“Mrs. Herrington, what is this?” he asked as they entered.

“I did not want to be overheard. The servants gossip.”

She handed him the paper she had been holding. It was damp on one corner and unmistakably chewed in places.

“A maid saw Brutus leave the Duchess’s rooms with it. She did not look at it, assuming it was Her Grace’s diary, but she gave it to me so that I could explain to Her Grace when she returned. When I looked at it, however…”

Leonard was already reading it. It was unmistakable, something he had read dozens of times before. It was an essay written by none other than Felix Gray, and it had been taken from Cecilia’s room. That was why she had been acting out of sorts since he had told her about the investigation.

“You may be angry with me,” Mrs. Herrington continued, “but I also found these.”

She handed him what seemed like endless bundles of cash, followed by more essays. It was all the proof he needed to know what had happened. He had been searching for Felix Gray, all the while the culprit had been living under his roof. It was his own wife.

He intended to find out why she had done it.