Chapter Twenty-Six

L ucy opened the door to Hart’s study and peeked in to see if he was inside. His dark head of hair was bent over a ledger as he sat at his desk. It popped up as she slid into the room.

“Hello, sweetness.” A smile tugged at his lips.

His endearment caused a spread of syrupy warmth through her chest. “Hello, husband. I thought you might be in here.” She walked over and rounded the desk. He swiveled in his chair and raised his hands to her waist. Lucy threaded her fingers through his hair, pushing it back from where it fell over his eyes. It still felt like a fantasy that she could touch him whenever she wanted. This gorgeous beast of a man.

He would roll his eyes at her if she said that out loud. Hart still would not accept that she saw him as handsome. His vanity had received a huge blow. What Hart didn’t understand was that it was the way held himself with confident assuredness, the humor he conveyed with the quirk of his sensual lips, and the way his sultry eyes promised all kinds of wicked pleasures that made him so attractive. The physical scars he bore did not change how she saw him.

“What are you reading?” she asked.

“This is the ledger for the year leading up to my father and Robert’s deaths. I am cross referencing any deals my father invested money in with the six remaining members of their club from school.”

“Find any correlations?” she asked.

“No, my father didn’t diversify much. The duchy owns sizable estates and his income, our income, comes largely from them. He had given money to some charities, and to some friends, most notably the Earl of Rawlings. The records are meticulous kept.”

“Perhaps it was a verbal agreement? Something promised but not recorded?”

“Possible. It’s damn frustrating. I am chasing something elusive. It is as though everyone knows more about my father than I did.”

“Hart, I know you wish to know the truth about what happened to them but my question for you is, what will you do with this knowledge? Is it really revenge that you seek?”

His stormy gaze stared into hers. “I don’t plan to take an eye for an eye if that’s what you are asking. I won’t become a murderer. But even powerful men have weaknesses. I will ruin the life of the person who killed my family. Just as they ruined mine.”

She cupped his cheeks and placed a kiss to his lips hoping to ease some of his turmoil. The loneliness that came with losing everyone he loved was something she recognized. As was the need to make sense of tragedy. “I understand why you need to figure out who the villain is, but I worry for your safety.”

Hart shrugged as though his safety was hardly important. His jaw clenched. “It is a matter of honor to avenge their deaths. It is increasingly looking like the man responsible is one of my father’s closest confidants. This man will slither out of the consequences if I bring my accusations to the magistrate. No, it will be more effective to strike them where it will hurt most. Their finances and their reputation.”

“How do you mean?”

“Like with Fitzwilliam, I purchased all his outstanding markers. He now owes me an enormous sum.”

Lucy gaped. “You did?”

He nodded. “I will make him squirm for a while. Then call in the debts. We will see what he must sacrifice to pay off the sum.”

Was it wrong that she was inordinately pleased by Hart’s version of justice? She couldn’t hold back her smile. “I find that terribly romantic.”

To her delight Hart’s cheeks flushed.

She leaned and brushed a kiss across his lips. “Well, I don’t want to disturb your work further. I’ll just sit over on the sofa with my book.”

Lucy snuggled into the corner of the tufted sofa. Her book was right where she had left yesterday, and she grabbed it and began to read. But today the story could not hold her attention for long. The sofa reminded her of their wedding night and all the wonderful nights that had recently followed. She glanced up at Hart and found him looking across at her. He quickly lowered his eyes to the ledger in front of him and, with a small sigh, Lucy began to read again. Not ten minutes later she heard a muttered curse.

Hart stood and rounded his desk. He slid onto the sofa next to her and leaned in to bury his face in her neck, making her laugh as he nibbled down her neck.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Am I being a distraction? Shall I leave?”

His growl vibrated against her skin. “No, it’s not your fault you are much more appealing than those dusty ledgers.” He lifted his head a sent her a boyish grin. “Besides, my eye is aching already.”

Lucy combed her fingers through his hair again and Hart’s eyes closed as a hum of pleasure rumbled out. It hadn’t escaped her attention how starved for touch he was. Perhaps starved for some fun as well. “Why don’t we go do something? We haven’t left the house in what? Six days? You need some fresh air and sunshine.”

“What am I? A houseplant?” Hart chuckled.

“No, I think a classic rose. Pretty but prickly.”

He huffed, but he cupped her face, brushing a thumb across her cheekbone. “You would be a sunny daffodil. The first sign of spring, harbinger of new beginnings.”

For all his gruffness, Hart could be surprisingly sweet. “Come on, you, let’s go stretch our legs and you can treat me to an ice from Gunter’s.”

It was indeed a beautiful day outside. Lucy tipped her parasol back and let the sun warm her face for a moment. She reveled in the simple pleasure of walking down the street with her husband. She was married to Alexander Barclay, the Duke of Hartwick. She was Hart’s wife. Her smile felt ever present these days. They stepped into Gunter’s and the gaze of every patron seemed to swing their way. Hart tugged his hat lower on his brow. She squeezed his hand and led him to a small table for two.

“What flavor is your favorite?” she asked as waiter handed them two menus.

“I have no idea. I’ve never been in here.”

Lucy lowered her menu. “What? Never?”

His lips twitched in amusement. “Gunter’s didn’t exactly fit with my reputation. This is a place to woo innocents.”

She rolled eyes before raising her menu to pick a flavor. “I like to choose something new each time. I will choose lavender today.”

Hart ordered lemon for himself. He glanced around. “It’s not a bad place, a bit crowed for my taste. I will admit to wondering what all the fuss was about.”

“I have been here three or four times, mostly with friends and once with a suitor.”

“Who?” Hart demanded.

“No one who matters,” Lucy replied, secretly glad at hearing the gravel in his tone. How nice to be the object of jealousy. “I thought since we are out, perhaps we should stroll to some of the shops and find something new for your study. Something to put into the room that would make it feel more yours.”

“Shopping? I guess so.”

“Nothing too taxing. I know of this curiosity shop that has all sorts of interesting things.”

“Well, I do owe you a birthday present.”

Their ices arrived. Lucy scooped up a bite. She scrunched her nose, yuck. She tried another bite and then set her spoon down. It tasted like soap. How disappointing.

Hart slid his lemon ice across the table switching it for hers.

Lucy smiled up at him and then dug into the delicious lemon ice.

*

Hart ducked to enter the front door of Howelsen’s Curiosity Shop. Inside was a maze of shelves and aisles that disappeared into the back of the long narrow building. Lucy grabbed his hand and gave him a wide grin over her shoulder.

“There are two floors. This one has most of the furniture, but the second floor is full of knickknacks. Come on, let’s explore!”

Her enthusiasm was infectious, and he followed her down an aisle to their right. There was all manner of objects crammed together in every nook and cranny of the store. A long sofa covered in deep purple velvet held a collection of porcelain dolls that stared at him with glass eyes as they walked past. Hart smacked his head against something as they turned to go down the next aisle. Glancing up he saw a balsawood dragon hung from the low ceiling. It breathed bright red paper fire as it swung to-and-fro.

After exploring the ground floor, Lucy led the way up an iron circular staircase. Hart put a hand on her waist to keep her steady as they climbed. Or perhaps it was to keep him steady. The twisty stairs made his head swim by the time they reached the next floor. More light flooded this level thanks to large sky lights. They spotted a rack full of masquerade masks at the same time and exchanged grins. Lucy browsed one side of the rack as he perused the other. A matte gold mask painted with intricate black vines and sporting an exaggerated long nose caught his eye. It covered his whole face as he held it up and turned to show Lucy.

“Miss, may I have your next dance?”

She turned to face him. “That sounds purrr-fect .” The mask she had on sported silver whiskers and a pink nose.

He chuckled. “Wait, I have the perfect partner for you.” He turned back to the shelf and traded the gold mask for a grey one painted with the furry face of a wolf with snarling lips and sharp white teeth. He turned and grabbed Lucy around the waist to pull her up against him. “Beware, of the wolves, little pussy.”

Lucy howled with laughter. “Oh no! Don’t eat me!”

Hart pushed the mask up onto his head then leaned in to capture her earlobe between his teeth. “I thought you liked it when I nibbled on you.”

More giggles erupted before she pushed him away. “Behave.” Lucy untied her mask and put it back on the rack. “Let’s look over here.”

Hart put his mask back as well. He strolled down the room after his wife, watching her run her fingers over items she found interesting. She paused in front of a painting, tilting her head to one side as she studied it. Curious to see what had caught her eye, he came up behind her. The painting was of a flurry of butterflies in flight. It hung on a wall with a dozen other paintings.

One just a couple of paintings further down caught his attention, and he moved to get a better look. The painting depicted the seaside. Gentle waves lapped at the shore. Birds in flight dotted the horizon, and woman in a white dress stood staring out at the ocean, her parasol a splash of pink against the blue sky. Or perhaps she watched the two small boys in short pants as they crouched to play in the sand. Hart could almost feel the ocean breeze flutter the lace on her dress. He absently rubbed a hand over his heart. The peaceful scene reminded him so much of his childhood outings to the sea when his mother was still alive.

“I like the butterflies. You may purchase it for me as my birthday present.” Lucy came next to him. She slid her hand in his. “This one is nice, too.”

He squeezed her hand. “We’ll take both of them.”