Chapter Sixteen
Diana stood before Lucas the next morning, staring in astonishment over what he had just requested. She blinked.
“Cut your hair,” she repeated. “And shave you.”
He nodded slowly. “Yes. I cannot quite meet my friends looking like a pirate, can I?”
She reached out, swirling one of his curly locks around her fingertip. “I’d rather miss the pirate, I admit.”
A grin flashed over his features, and her knees went a bit weak. “A pirate is made up by deeds, lass,” he said with a wink. “I promise I will never stop…plundering…”
She shook her head at the lewd tone of his voice and how her body reacted with both desire and a comfortable connection. Damn the man for making everything so…easy.
“You’re a cad,” she said with a chuckle, then swept up the scissors from the table where the servants had set them and began to examine his locks. She’d cut her father’s hair over the years, so she was not unaccustomed to the act, but her father’s hair had never been a fall of coarse curls.
“You can’t be angry at me if I make a muck of it,” she said, then snipped the scissors for the first cut.
He caught the lock as it fell and held it up. “A trophy, my lady.”
She laughed as she took the piece of hair and shoved it into her pelisse pocket. Then she focused her attention on the job at hand. With a deep breath, she began to cut. At first, it was all businesslike, but as his hair grew shorter, she slid her hands against his scalp to shape it.
“Mmm,” he said, nuzzling her forearm as she moved around him. “I would have asked you to do this ages ago if I’d known.”
“You are distracting me and shall end up all lopsided if you keep that up,” she said, but her breath was short.
“It might be worth it,” he said, pressing a kiss to her arm and then winking up at her.
She tried to ignore him and at last stood back and stared at her handiwork.
“Mirror?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No, not until we’re finished.” She picked up a towel from the steaming hot bowl of water that had also been brought in. She squeezed some of the liquid out and gently wrapped his face. As they waited for his whiskers to soften and his pores to open, she examined the man before her.
She was transforming him back to the man he was before. Perhaps back to the life he had abandoned all those years ago. A man couldn’t be a spy forever, especially when he had a dukedom to attend to. And with his injuries, a life in the field might never be possible again.
So he would go back to being His Grace. He would, eventually, take up those responsibilities. One of them would be to marry a lady of breeding, one who came from wealth and a titled family. He would create a family with her.
She blinked at the wayward path of her thoughts. None of those things were her concern, of course. She and Lucas had been clear from the beginning that an affair was all this could ever be. That he was not thinking of a future with her. That she could not think of one with him.
“Ready?” she asked, her tone falsely bright as she unwrapped the steaming cloth and set it aside.
She lathered his face gently, memorizing the angles of his jaw and the feel of his ragged whiskers. Remembering how they had brushed her skin so many times. She liked the intimacy of the act more than she should. He had to trust her with the straight razor in her hand. He seemed to do it effortlessly, as he kept his eyes shut even when she first scraped the blade over his skin.
She focused once more on her work, a godsend when her mind wanted to take her to such troubling places. Bit by bit, she smoothed away all the whiskers, trimmed his sideburns, and then set the razor aside and wiped his face and neck clean of all the little hairs that had fallen there during her duty.
She stepped back and couldn’t help but gasp. He was almost another person, this freshly coifed and shaved man before her. But utterly handsome, utterly perfect.
“It can’t be so bad as all that,” he said, and held a hand out for the mirror.
She gave it over at last with a shake of her head. “Not bad at all. You are very handsome. You are…you’re a duke.”
His gaze flitted up to her. “No, I’m not,” he whispered as he set the mirror aside and reached for her hand. She gasped as he gently tugged her into his lap. He nuzzled her neck with his freshly smooth cheek, and she shivered with renewed pleasure.
She turned her face into his and kissed him. His hand came up, fingers gliding along her neck, against the base of her skull as he angled her head for better access. The kiss deepened and she felt the swell of his cock begin to press against her thigh.
She drew back and smiled. “That won’t do,” she said.
He arched a brow at her teasing tone. “No, not at all,” he agreed with a false earnestness. “Not when we have company coming. What should we do about it, do you think?”
She laughed and was once again struck by how easy this all was. Too easy. And yet she reveled in it. Reveled in the pleasure of it and of him.
She slid her hand between them and kept her gaze focused on his as she wiggled her hand past the fold of his dressing gown. She pushed the fabric aside and glanced at what she’d revealed. His cock, hard and proud, curling up now that it was no longer confined by silky fabric.
She wrapped her hand around it, sliding her fingers up and down the length as he sucked in his breath through his teeth.
“That wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” he ground out. “Not that I’m complaining.”
“We have no time for anything else,” she whispered as she pressed light kisses along his now-smooth jawline. “Not if you want to actually be dressed when your friends arrive.”
He dipped his head back with a moan. Already he lifted into her palm, grinding against her. “Being dressed is overrated. I could come down in my dressing gown.”
She pumped faster. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Besides, this is far too pleasurable for me.”
“Is it?” He let out a garbled curse. “How so? It seems you’re not getting much out of it at all.”
“No?” She leaned back and stared at him, tightening her grip, watching as his cheek twitched. “Right now you’re on the edge of control and I put you there. If you don’t think that holding that little bit of power over you isn’t pleasurable, then…well, you’re wrong. I want to see you lose your grip on that control, Lucas.” She leaned in and gently sucked the column of his neck. “Now, please.”
He made a rumbling cry from deep within his chest, and then she felt the ripple through his cock just before he came. She continued to pump him gently until he went limp in the chair. Only then did she wrap her arms around him and press a deep kiss against his lips.
He sighed as she pulled away, and said, “Christ, if someone wanted to kill me, they ought to just send you. But I’d die a happy man.”
She shook her head and slowly got up from his lap. “You shouldn’t even tease about such things, considering.”
He straightened a fraction and nodded. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I didn’t mean to make light of something so close to the truth. Blame it on an addled mind.”
“Addled by…”
“You,” he finished with a flash of a grin. She shivered. God, but he was even more handsome all pulled together as he was now. She’d have thought that impossible.
“So you blame me,” she said, stepping away. The distance might help with her attraction. Another lie to tell herself.
He shrugged. “If the very skilled hands fit.” He tilted his head and his smile fell. His gaze grew heated and heavy. “Don’t think for a moment I don’t realize I now owe you something just as spectacular after that.”
She swallowed hard. “I didn’t realize we were keeping score.”
“When it comes to pleasure for pleasure…always.” He winked.
She bent her head. “I look forward to it. Now, shall I call for your valet, or would you like me to help you dress?”
“You are my very favorite valet, Miss Oakford, I think you know that. But given the circumstances, I think it might be best to ring.”
“The circumstances?”
He caught her hand and drew her close, pressing his mouth hard to hers. She wound her arms around his neck and melted against him. It was habit now, something she didn’t even think of. He touched her, she was his.
“That if you touch me again, I don’t think we’ll make it downstairs to meet my friends,” he growled against her lips. He gently turned her and then swatted her behind. “Now go before I change my mind.”
She laughed as she left him, but after she’d gone into the adjoining room and closed the door behind herself, she leaned back against it with a sigh. The connection she felt to this man was growing with every second she spent with him.
And she knew full well that she needed to sever it. Sooner rather than later if she wanted to maintain her sanity and her heart.
Lucas shifted as he stood at the window in his study, staring out at the gardens behind the estate. The tick of the clock on the mantel sounded like a shotgun blast in his ears every time it counted another second. One more tick closer to the moment when his friends would be here.
And he’d have to face everything he’d done to push them so far away.
Suddenly he felt Diana’s hand slide into his own. He turned to find her staring up at him, understanding on her face. Empathy. God, but he wanted to lean into that. To take everything she offered until he could refill the emptiness inside of himself.
Only he didn’t think he was capable of giving her anything in return. A fact that grew harder to take with every passing day he spent with her. He was using her. Using her to heal. Using her to find peace. Using her to investigate his case.
And her assistance was unearthing more and more questions he knew could possibly break her heart. He didn’t want to do that.
“Don’t be nervous,” she whispered, and that calming tone seeped into him and reduced his anxiety.
There was a knock on the door, and he tensed as he turned to find Jones there, as expected. “The Duke and Duchess of Crestwood and the Duke of Tyndale are awaiting you in the purple parlor, as requested, Your Grace.”
He nodded acknowledgment. “We will join them momentarily, Jones. There is no need for you to announce us.”
The butler’s lips pinched, but he bobbed out his own nod. “Certainly. There should be tea and biscuits being delivered there as we speak.”
He left then, and Lucas managed to draw a full breath before he smiled down at Diana. “Here we go.”
She slid her hand into the crook of his arm and let him guide her from the room. They walked down the hallway together, and there was a part of him that felt like he was being led to the gallows. Why, he could not say. He loved all three of the people in that room waiting for him.
But he had not shown his love very well. And despite Simon’s kind letter, he still feared what he would find when he opened the door to his mother’s hideous purple parlor.
They reached that door, and as he extended a hand, Diana squeezed his arm. “Don’t expect the worst.”
He nodded, but couldn’t stop himself from doing just that as he pushed the door open. His breath caught as he entered the parlor.
Simon, Duke of Crestwood, and Matthew, Duke of Tyndale, stood together by his fire, examining one of his mother’s horrible little miniature horse statues that she loved so well. Meg was at the sideboard, pouring tea. They looked…the same. And so different. He could see all the time that had passed since he last let himself near them.
It had only been a moment. And it had been years.
“Great God, he’s here in the flesh,” Simon said as he turned from the fireplace and made a straight line right to Lucas. Diana released him and Lucas found himself yanked into a strong embrace from one of his best friends. Simon pounded him on the back as he whispered, “You have been more missed than you could ever realize.”
Lucas’s knees almost went weak at that statement, and at the realization of how missed his friends had been too. He’d tried to pretend that wasn’t true. That he could manage on his own, deserved to be on his own, but now he felt the lie of it.
Simon drew back and Matthew reached out to shake Lucas’s hand. He felt Matthew’s careful gaze searching his face and finding the pain he tried to hide. Matthew had experienced so much of his own that there was no doubt he knew it when he saw it. “You look a fright.”
Lucas couldn’t help but laugh at the greeting, one the group had always reserved for each other when they’d been apart for more than a few weeks.
Meg had stood by while the men made their greetings, but now she stepped up and took both his hands. Lucas smiled at her, for he saw so much of her brother James, the leader of their group, in her. He also saw the unmistakable swell of her belly now that she faced him, and his gaze shot to Simon. He beamed and nodded slightly.
“Don’t listen to them,” she said with a laugh as she bussed his cheek. “Oh my, it is so good to see you. You don’t know how difficult it was not to have an entire gaggle of dukes come raining down on your home when the group heard of your return. Simon insisted we not overwhelm you all at once.”
Lucas couldn’t help but picture that, all his friends here, like no time had passed. Like nothing had changed, even though half of them were married now and none of them knew the truth about him.
He shook off the thought and stepped back to take Diana’s arm. “May I present my…my friend, Diana Oakford. Diana, the Duke of Tyndale and the Duke and Duchess of Crestwood.”
His friends all turned to her, and he felt her stiffen a fraction at their regard. He couldn’t blame her. There was no doubt what they would assume she was…and quite correctly.
“So lovely to meet you,” Meg said, stepping forward to take her hand. There was slight hesitation in her voice as she said, “Any friend of Lucas is a friend of ours.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Diana said, but though she smiled, Lucas could hear the tension in her voice, see the falseness of her expression.
He’d grown so accustomed to her utter confidence that this hesitation hit him in the gut. She was truly uncertain around his friends and he wanted her not to be, even though he doubted this kind of meeting would occur often.
Because this was temporary. Nothing more. Though that was getting harder to think.
“You know, Lucas, I recall this house having a wonderfully fine garden,” Meg said.
“Oh, yes, it’s so lovely,” Diana agreed, and her enthusiasm was not forced with those words.
Meg smiled. “Perhaps Miss Oakford and I could take a turn there. It will give you gentlemen time to catch up.”
Simon glanced at his wife and a world of understanding flowed between them. Diana looked at Lucas, and he wished it could be so easy with her. It was and it wasn’t, for there were walls there that did not exist between Simon and Meg. They’d torn down those walls a year or more ago.
“I would like that,” Diana said slowly.
“Excellent!” Meg said. “I hope you know a bit about flowers, for I am terrible when it comes to horticulture.”
Diana laughed as they exited the room together. “I know a little, Your Grace.”
When they were gone, Simon moved to shut the door behind them and then he turned to Lucas with a shake of his head. “I keep thinking I must pinch myself—you are truly standing in front of me. How long has it been?”
Lucas bent his head in shame. “Years, I’m afraid.”
“And over six months since anyone in our circle had a letter,” Matthew added as he sat down and sprawled his long legs out in front of himself. “We have taken bets on what kept you away, you know.”
“If I told you, you would not believe me.”
Simon arched a brow. “Perhaps that’s true. Someone will eventually wheedle it out of you, you know. Now that you’re back.”
Lucas stiffened. When he wrote to Simon, he hadn’t been thinking so far ahead as to consider himself “back”. He’d been thinking about what he’d lost by walking away from his friends, of course. He’d been needing to spend time with people who understood him. He’d also hoped they could help him make this strange reentry into Society that was meant to help his case.
But being “back”? That felt…so very odd.
“Don’t give us that look,” Matthew said. “That you’re thinking of running. Meg was right when she said it was nearly impossible to keep everyone from crashing down your door to see you. If they think you’re going to bolt, you may be kidnapped and hogtied.”
Lucas shook his head. “I would not want to see how that turned out. No, I’m not going to run. But I’m so behind on everything that has happened. Will you fill me in?”
Simon shot him a look, like he knew Lucas was avoiding subjects that needed to be broached. But he drew a breath and began talking. Lucas leaned back, reveling in the stories of the recent marriages of James, Simon, Graham, Ewan and Baldwin. His heart hurt when he realized how ill their friend Kit’s father was. He laughed when he heard how Robert was up to his old ways, wondered along with his friends why Hugh was in such an ill humor and stared at Matthew, who hid his pain well. But not well enough that he couldn’t see it, even years after the death of Matthew’s fiancée.
There it all was, laid out before him, and he felt an ache that he had been so separate from it all.
“You have been busy since I left,” he muttered as he pushed to his feet and paced to the window.
“You too,” Simon said. “Considering the limp.”
Lucas faced him. He’d thought he’d hidden that fairly well. His leg had not bothered him as much lately—he was getting stronger by the day.
“And then there’s the girl,” Matthew added, locking eyes with him. “Seems you’ve had your own adventures since we last saw you. I think more than any of us put together.”
Lucas shook his head slowly. “I know I can trust you,” he said. “I know that even if I haven’t shown it as of late.”
Simon exchanged a brief glance with Matthew before he said, “You can. And judging from the fact that you reached out after so long, it makes me think you need to. You need us. Why?”
Lucas ran a hand through his hair. It felt oddly short, and he shook out his fingers before he said, “I…I’m a spy.”
There was silence in the room for a beat, two, and then Matthew got up suddenly and laughed. “I said it, didn’t I? And everyone said, ‘Don’t be foolish, Tydale.’ But here he’s admitted to it. Damn, why didn’t I make a wager?”
Lucas stared at him. “You guessed?”
Matthew shrugged. “It’s something that’s been bandied about over the years as a reason one would separate himself from people who care for him, yes. And since you had been in service, since you were very secretive about leaving it…everything added up.”
Simon nodded his agreement. “Yes, but it is one thing to joke about spies and another to know one. You aren’t in jest, are you?”
“No.” Lucas sighed and was shocked at how heavy a weight had been lifted from his shoulders through his confession. “I was recruited by the War Department during my time as an officer. And I…I loved it. I loved the investigating, I loved feeling like I was truly helping my country. Like I was…worth something.”
Simon jerked his face toward Lucas. “You were always worth something.”
Lucas walked away. He wasn’t going to get into all his secrets. Not today. Not ever if he had anything to say about it. “Either way, that is where I’ve been these past few years. I didn’t want to endanger anyone else with my life. But half a year ago, I was injured by a traitor to our cause. A spy turned…I don’t know what to call him. Double agent?”
Matthew’s eyes widened. “My God.”
“I nearly died,” he admitted softly. He’d tried to avoid those words whenever possible, avoid the fear that thinking them engendered, but there it was. He had never felt he had much to live for, he’d always guessed he might die in the service of his country…but to truly face death? That was something very different.
Simon sank into the settee. “That’s why you have the limp.”
Lucas nodded. “Yes. A few weeks ago, I was turned over to…to Diana. Her father was a War Department surgeon, and he died the day I was attacked. She has some of his skill and every other physician had done nothing but make it worse.”
“So she isn’t your mistress,” Matthew said.
Simon’s lips turned up in a half grin. “Oh, I think she is. The spark between you is far too obvious.”
Lucas bent his head. “I should not pursue whatever is between us. But you saw her. She is stunning and that is the least of her qualities. She is so very clever and challenging and has a deep strength and goodness that I could not match if I put every effort into the attempt.”
Simon drew back. “Are you in love with her?”
Lucas froze at the question. At the reaction to the question that made his heart throb and the voice in his mind scream yes!
He pushed that voice away. Pushed that physical sensation away. Loving her? That was impossible, not matter how true it felt. No matter how much it made him dream of a life he had turned away from long ago.
“She is helping me,” he said softly. “To heal and to investigate what happened to me that day.”
“You’re still investigating?” Matthew asked. “Despite the injuries?”
“I am. And she’s had some keen insights that have helped me. And troubled me.” He thought of the doubts that had begun to enter his mind about her father and pushed those away with all the other emotions he’d stifled since his friends arrived.
Matthew gripped his hands before him, and his frustration was clear. “What if we could help?”
Lucas shook his head. “No. I cannot say much about it. It’s secret and it’s dangerous. I won’t expose any of you to such a risk. Especially considering how much you all have to lose now.”
Simon stiffened, and Lucas could see he was thinking of Meg and the child she carried. From the protective hardness that came over his friend’s face, Lucas had no doubt he would die to keep her safe if need be. He would not risk her or himself if he didn’t have to.
A fact that relieved him greatly, for he didn’t want to have to argue the point.
“So we cannot all become spies, as we dreamed as boys,” Simon said. “But that doesn’t answer the question of how you want our help.”
Lucas sighed. “My superiors and I have come to the conclusion that this man, this traitor in our ranks, might be flushed out if he saw me return to Society. His fears of what I might remember could drive him to make mistakes. And drive him to reveal himself without meaning to do so.”
Matthew pushed to his feet. “You want to be bait.”
Lucas almost laughed. “That seems to be the consensus of everyone who hears the plan. Yes, I will be the bait in a trap that could bring a murderer to justice. But I have not been in Society for years. I wondered if you might be persuaded to help…reintroduce me?”
Simon and Matthew exchanged a look, and then Matthew shrugged. “I’m certain that could be arranged under one condition.”
“What is that?” Lucas asked.
Simon folded his arms. “Once you’re back in the flock, you won’t leave again. No more running. Not from your friends. Not from whatever pushed you away from your future in the first place.”
Lucas sucked in a breath. There was no running from what had dragged him away from his future. He’d tried and never fully succeeded.
“Perhaps it’s…time to face it all,” he admitted slowly. “And I promise you, these invitations would not endanger anyone. Just put me in the public eye where I could be seen again.”
“Well,” Simon said, coming over to sling his arm around Lucas. “I have a few ideas about that.”