Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

“ Y ou were incredible,” the Duke said, the moment they crossed the threshold back into their Castle. “ Incredible! ”

Rosalie laughed, shaking her head as she stared up into the look of admiration and shock on her husband’s face. She was still vibrating, truthfully. She had never, ever done something like that in her life before, and she couldn’t quite believe it had happened.

“I barely even remember it,” she said, laughing again as she tried to summon the memory of speaking to Lord Redfield. “It all passed in a blur!”

“Well, if you need to give you a blow-by-blow summary, I can, because you were unbelievable. I never knew you could do something like that!”

“Well, you are just getting to know me,” Rosalie said, giggling at the force of her husband’s praise. It was a bit disconcerting. She was used to him being taciturn and cold, not heaping praise on her. “But also… I never knew I had that in me, either. I was trying to channel a heroine in a novel, but I didn’t know I could actually do it.”

“Well, you can,” he assured her. “Never doubt that again.” He chuckled. “Perhaps we should have you perform in the theater.”

“Even you wouldn’t be that scandalous,” she teased. “A wife who performs in the theater!”

“And a duchess, no doubt.”

They moved from the hallway into the parlor where Rosalie collapsed on the nearest settee. She suddenly felt very tired. All the energy that had been coursing through her before and during the meeting with Lord Redfield had now seeped out of her, leaving her depleted.

“Do you think he believed us?” she asked, looking up at the Duke, who had seated himself across from her on another settee. “I couldn’t tell if he was convinced.”

The Duke considered this. “I’m not sure,” he admitted slowly. “But I was certainly convinced. For a few moments, I was having trouble telling fact from fiction. He did look rather sold on the arrangement by the end.”

“I thought so,” she said, recalling the look of urgency on Redfield’s face as they had been leaving, “but he wouldn’t admit that he is profiting from the opium.”

“No, he is still cautious,” the Duke said. “But that caution also convinces me even more so of his guilt. Why wouldn’t he vehemently deny being involved if he was innocent? No, the only reason to stall is because he is, but he wants time to consider our offer.”

“That’s true,” she said, nodding at the sensibleness of this. “He certainly knows more than he was letting on. And if he wasn’t profiting from it, he would be furious with us for suggesting so. But maybe he is still considering whether or not to get involved.”

“In that case, our proposal will tell us whether or not he is an honest man or a scoundrel.”

He smiled at her, and she felt her heart swell. The smile was warm and caring—protective, even. It was the tenderest look he had given her ever since they had been caught together in the library at Violet’s house.

“For now, all we can do is wait,” the Duke continued. “Hopefully we will hear from Redfield in a few days. Until then, I propose that we try to find out as much as we can about the opium business.” He frowned. “I realized while I was speaking that I actually have no idea what the money from an investment would go towards. What is the infrastructure needed to sell opium?”

Rosalie laughed. “Oh, my innocent husband,” she teased. “He’s called the Beast of Carramere, but he doesn’t even know how to smuggle drugs.”

The Duke’s laugh was the sweetest sound she had ever heard.

The next few days were interminable. Rosalie tried to distract herself with books, and the Duke certainly had a large enough collection to keep her occupied, but for once, she found that reading wasn’t having the desired effect. No matter how exciting the book, she couldn’t keep her thoughts from drifting to Lord Redfield and what his answer would be.

“It’s because your life is more exciting than a novel,” the Duke said when she finally confided this to him over dinner on the second night after the meeting with Redfield. “For the first time, perhaps. This is what happens when you stop living in a fantasy and begin living your own life.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “You forget my life has been one scandal after another. This isn’t the most unusual thing to happen to me.”

“But perhaps it’s the most thrilling,” he suggested.

She didn’t want to admit he was right, so she changed the subject.

To distract herself, Rosalie busied herself with starting to plan repairs to the house. It was true what the Duke had said to her: she really did have an unlimited budget and everything at her disposal to try and turn the rundown castle into a home.

The first thing she did was begin to air out the rooms, clean them, and sweep them.

“Then we must send for new linens from London,” she instructed the housekeeper. “It won’t do to have moldy sheets on the beds and moth-eaten curtains.”

“And what about the west wing?” the housekeeper asked her tentatively. “There is so much to repair, but His Grace has always refused to talk about any plans to have it fixed.”

Rosalie considered this. As much as she disliked the eyesore of the west wing—and as much as she hated to think of leaving the place in such dire conditions—she also didn’t want to do anything that would anger the Duke. Relations between them had been decidedly more congenial ever since the meeting with Redfield. She thought he liked the sense of adventure and doing something together. She certainly did.

“Let’s leave it how it is for now,” she said. “I will bring in builders from the local village to look at the rest of the castle, especially the bedrooms, and they can start on those first. Maybe by the time they’ve fixed up the rest of the castle, His Grace will be more open to discussing the west wing.”

For now, however, she wasn’t ready to shatter the fragile peace between them.

They were still sharing a bed, and while the Duke had been nothing but patient and respectful of her boundaries, she had felt the tension sharpening in the air between each night as they went to bed.

On the morning of the third day after visiting Redfield, she woke to find his arm had been thrown over her while she slept. She kept very still, pretending she was still asleep, while inside, her heart was hammering as wildly as the hoofbeats of a cantering horse.

For several minutes, she lay there, not moving, until at last she realized she was being silly.

Clearing her throat, she waited. The Duke made a soft, sleepy sound and shifted but not enough. She cleared her throat again, and this time, he rolled away from her, taking his arm with him.

She immediately felt cold without it protectively around her.

All day, she wondered if she should mention it, but it wasn’t until later that night, when she and the Duke were both sitting in the parlor, reading, that she finally got up the courage. Before she could speak, however, the butler knocked on the door and entered with a calling card on a tray.

“The Marquess Redfield is here to see you, Your Grace,” the butler said, holding out the tray to the Duke with a disgruntled look on his face. “I told him it was too late, but he said you would want to see him.”

Immediately, her husband’s eyes found hers, and she knew he was thinking the exact same thing as she: this is it!

“That’s right, show him in,” the Duke boomed.

“But Your Grace, the time!”

“It’s all right, we do want to see him.”

The butler grumbled but turned and left, and moments later, Lord Redfield swept into the room, an unreadable expression on his face.

All thought of the Duke’s arm around her vanished from Rosalie’s mind. Nothing mattered now except playing the part of the ruthless businesswoman, the heir to Lord Carfield’s villainy.

“Your Graces,” Redfield said, bowing low before them both. “Thank you for seeing me at such a late hour. I would not usually dare trespass on your time so late, but you see, I had to think about everything you said, and I just came to a decision. I thought I should come now, before your offer is rescinded.”

“We are glad you came,” Rosalie said. “Please, sit down.” She indicated the chair between her and the Duke.

Redfield nodded in thanks and seated himself in the chair. He looked between the two of them.

“So, tell me,” he said, his voice like a purr, “exactly how much are you prepared to invest in the opium business?”

Rosalie felt her heart soar.

We’ve got him!

Nathan couldn’t quite believe it. Redfield was here, actually wanting to take them up on their fake offer to invest in the opium business. They had fooled him! And he knew it was only possible because of his wife.

And indeed, Redfield was now looking at her. “I was impressed by you, Your Grace,” he began. “I have never met a woman of such bold opinions and unapologetic ambition.”

“My father didn’t raise me to be a woman,” Rosalie said dismissively. “He raised me to be his heir, his real heir, unlike my useless cousin.”

Even though he knew she was lying, Nathan couldn’t help but be impressed. It was a good line.

She isn’t just a reader, he thought suddenly. She is a writer, even if she doesn’t know it yet. She’s writing this in her mind then making it reality.

That was similar to how he was in business, as well; it was an ability to feel out the next lines the other person was about to say and write the scene in a way that would bring about the end results he wanted.

“Well, your father was a very smart man,” Redfield was saying. “And is it you with whom I shall primarily be dealing during this business interaction, or would that be His Grace?”

Rosalie opened her mouth to respond, but Nathan cut her off. “That would be me,” he said, and there was such a note of finality to his voice that Rosalie immediately shut her mouth. “My wife is an astute businesswoman, but opium is a dangerous business, and I will not allow her to be put in any danger. That is nonnegotiable to me, Redfield: she remains outside of the day-to-day business dealings that might endanger her.”

Nathan wasn’t sure why he had said this. It wasn’t as if he and Rosalie were actually going to get involved in the day-to-day operations of opium smuggling. They were just trying to get enough information to shut it down.

But at even the suggestion that his wife was going to be in danger, something had come over him, and he needed Redfield to know—he needed everyone to know—that he would do anything in his power to keep Rosalie safe. And he would end anyone who brought harm to her.

He glanced at Rosalie and was unsurprised to see a slightly raised eyebrow, as if to ask, What are you doing? Don’t ruin this.

Nathan cleared his throat. “I hope that’s clear,” he finished, a little lamely.

“It is clear,” Redfield said, and his eyes once more flicked curiously between the two of them.

Not suspiciously but with interest.

Careful, Nathan. With every word you say, you are giving Redfield leverage over you. Don’t show him your emotions.

But what emotions was he even capable of revealing to Redfield? It wasn’t as if he was in love with Rosalie. Why shouldn’t a man be protective of his wife? It didn’t have to mean anything…

“Shall we discuss details, then?” Redfield asked, wrenching Nathan from his thoughts.

“We can discuss them in my study.” Nathan stood and beckoned Redfield to stand as well. The Marquess stood, bowed to Rosalie, and then followed Nathan out of the parlor and into the hall. They walked down the corridor together then into Nathan’s study.

“Now, what do you have for me?” he asked, once he was settled at his desk across from Redfield.

“I have this.” Redfield reached into his briefcase and took out a piece of parchment which he stretched out onto the desk. “It’s a map of all the production points where the opium is moved into the estate. What I need from you is help finding the best way to move it out of the estate again and help finding suppliers throughout England, especially Northern England.”

“Very good,” Nathan said, his eyes perusing the map as thoroughly as was possible. He had to memorize every place so that he could report it back to Scotland Yard. This might be his only chance; he didn’t know how long he could keep this charade going.

Just enough to make sure that Scotland Yard puts you away for a good long time.

At last, when Redfield was done talking, the two men shook hands.

“I look forward to our partnership together,” Nathan said.

Lord Redfield nodded. “Please apologize to the Duchess for calling so late, and of course, thank her for convincing me to bring you both onboard. She is an incredible woman. And of all those sisters, the most like her father in the end.” His eyes glittered. “No wonder she married you.”