CHAPTER 47

THE DUKE OF AYCLIFFE threw him a narrow-eyed glance and paced the abbey's splendid library with mounting frustration. Gabriel observed the duke with outward calm. They had been at it for hours. Ever since the constable had arrived just as Gabriel finished bathing and dressing. The sun was finally rising over the frigid landscape, gilding the room with orange light.

"Damn it, man, you must give me something more than that balderdash. This is serious, Brentworth. A man is dead."

"I'm unlikely to forget that fact, as I was the one who killed him."

Mr. Barrington, the constable, was a short and stocky man with bushy sideburns and even bushier eyebrows. He took one look at the situation, and decided it merited rousing the county's Justices of the Peace, one of which was Aycliffe.

"Look, I'm trying to help you. But I can't do it if you don't tell me the truth. I believe you are innocent, but you have to admit the situation is highly irregular. The constable sent for me because he didn't swallow your story. And neither will the other two Justices. This could escalate all the way to the Home Office. We have known each other long enough. Have been through difficult situations where we had to rely on each other. I thought you knew you could trust me."

He was conscious of how suspicious the circumstances were. If not, the hostile looks the constable had thrown his way before leaving with Blackwell's body would have left no doubt in his mind that he was in a precarious position with the law.

"I do trust you. But the details are not mine to divulge. I trust your powers of persuasion to convince the other Justices to buy the story. If persuasion doesn't work, use your rank. You are the highest ranking amongst them."

Aycliffe continued pacing as Gabriel remained seated, the picture of nonchalance, as he sipped cognac.

"Maybe I could, on minor stuff. But this is too big."

"Then I guess we will go to trial. Whatever you do, just try to keep it as quiet as possible. And leave the duchess out of it. She didn't even know I was there."

Hannah had already been distressed too much. She had retired not long ago and could only be persuaded to do so because Sam needed her.

"That's the crux of it, isn't it? Why were you here without the duchess's knowledge?"

"Stanhope named me the child's guardian. It was my responsibility to protect him."

Aycliffe made an exasperated gesture. "You know damn well your actions go far beyond a guardian's duties."

"If you learned that someone planned to harm a child, especially one under your protection, wouldn't you act the same way?"

"Of course! What I don't understand is how you learned of his intentions. Doesn't seem like something someone intent on murder would divulge to all and sundry."

Gabriel shrugged. He was so weary. Weary of this conversation, of the struggles that never seemed to end. He only wanted to be near his child. Next to Hannah. But with each event, that possibility seemed further away.

"I have my ways."

Aycliffe sat back down, leaned forward, and rested his elbows on his knees. And impaled Gabriel with a stare. "You know what the constable suggested?" At Gabriel's head shake, he went on. "That Blackwell was staying at the house. After all, as a nephew of the old duke, it wouldn't be unusual for him to visit. He implied you were the one who broke in with nefarious intentions, and when Blackwell discovered you, you murdered him."

Although he remained outwardly calm, Gabriel's temper boiled at the preposterous suggestion. "That is ridiculous. Blackwell had not been welcome at the abbey for years. The old duke didn't trust him. Which is precisely why he named me and not Blackwell as the child's guardian."

"Then how did you come to be here?"

Gabriel stood up. His rage and impatience at last overriding the despondency. "That's enough. If you are going to arrest me on murder charges and throw me in jail, do so. At least there I could get some rest. If not, this conversation is over."

Both men stood toe to toe, defiant glances clashing in a duel of wills. As a duke, Aycliffe was unaccustomed to anyone defying him, but Gabriel would be damned if he would allow himself to be forced into surrendering information he had sworn never to divulge. Information that could damage his child and the woman he loved.

Aycliffe looked away first. "I'm not going to arrest you, damn it! But I can't promise there won't be an investigation and trial."

"I'll be at my estate if you need me." With that, he strode from the room.

A WEEK HAD PASSED SINCE that terrible night. She should feel better now. Safer. With Blackwell dead, there was no one to threaten her child. Her mind comprehended that, but not her heart.

Hannah had the baby's crib moved to her room, placed right by her bed. Several times a night, she'd awake startled, her heart racing. Until her eyes rested on the sleeping form of her baby and the frantic rhythm calmed a bit.

She missed Gabriel more than ever. Everything had been such a whirlwind that fateful night; they had not had time to finish their conversation. When the constable arrived, Gabriel had dealt with the man and sorted out the removal of the body. Then he had ensconced himself with Aycliffe in the library. She had had to leave to feed her son and had fallen asleep from exhaustion and terror.

She had assumed that after he finished providing all the details of Blackwell's misdeeds, he would seek her out and they could finish their conversation. She would tell him she wanted to marry him. Whenever he wished. She was his. Now and forever.

But he had not returned to her. When she had woken and inquired about Gabriel's whereabouts, the butler had informed her that the earl had already departed for his estate. And so had the duke.

So she had written to Gabriel. A desperate letter full of longing, asking him to visit. His response had been as cold as the arctic wind. As impersonal as that of a stranger. He had expressed a hope that she and the baby were well. Regretted to inform her he could not visit at this time. And urged her to let him know if there was something he could do to help her.

That was it. No words of love. No feelings.

She had not dared write again. Instead, she wondered if she should visit him. But traveling in winter was difficult. Especially with a baby. And leaving Sammy behind was out of the question. Hannah was contemplating the logistics of a trip to Gabriel's estate when she received an unexpected call.

"His Grace, the Duke of Aycliffe, is here to see you, Your Grace," the butler announced in his solemn voice.

Aycliffe! Maybe he would be able to help her. Shed some light on what was going on with Blackwell's case.

"Thank you. Please bring him to the morning room. I shall receive him here. And order tea."

As a widow in mourning, custom dictated that she should not receive callers. Especially young eligible men. But to hell with propriety. She had the feeling the duke had not come for a polite call. She looked at the baby's pram, where her son napped, and wondered if it would be better to have the nurse move him to another room, so as not to wake him with their conversation. But no sooner had the thought entered her mind than she dismissed the idea. She couldn't bear to have him out of her sight.

A moment later, the duke walked in. He walked with the grace of a consummate athlete and cut a fine figure in his impeccably tailored clothing that showcased his honed body to the greatest advantage. He was handsome, no doubt, with his auburn hair, sharp jawline, and patrician features. No wonder the ladies of the Ton were always fawning over His Grace. Not her, though.

She was impervious to his charms. She much preferred a dark-haired earl with stormy gray eyes who used to look at her with adoration.

"Good morning, Aycliffe," she greeted, sketching a slight curtsy.

The duke smiled and bowed. "Duchess. I am sorry to disturb you at this time of mourning."

"It's no bother, Your Grace. Please be seated. I assume you have an important reason for calling," she said and took a seat on the sofa, next to the pram.

The duke took a seat opposite her. "I do, Your Grace. It's regarding the unfortunate events that transpired here a week ago."

She shuddered, remembering that night. And he took note. She suspected very little escaped him, although he liked to play the indolent rake.

"May I speak freely?"

"Yes, of course."

"I'm afraid there's an investigation afoot, and the case may come to trial."

Hannah frowned. "I don't understand. What is the purpose of the investigation? And who are you going to try? Blackwell is dead. What purpose could it serve to investigate his motives? Although I daresay they are more than evident by his actions."

The duke studied her for a couple of heartbeats before speaking. "That is one version of the story. One that I'm inclined to believe. But not everyone is as convinced."

"A version? You speak as if there were any other possibilities. As if the events were open to interpretation. That is the truth."

"And yet, the story didn't satisfy the Chief Constable. He is being overzealous and calling for an investigation. Unfortunately, the other two Justices of the Peace agree with him."

"Agree with him on what?"

"He doesn't believe the story that Lord Brentworth gave us. He believes Mr. Blackwell was staying at the house, and Brentworth is the one who broke in. That Blackwell discovered him, and that is why Brentworth murdered him."

Hannah gasped. That was putting Gabriel's actions in the worst possible light. How had she not thought of it? About how other people would interpret what transpired here that night. And if he were accused and convicted of such a heinous crime, he could go to jail or even be executed.

Icy dread swamped her like a tidal wave. Her hand rose to her chest, where her heart was beating a sluggish rhythm, as if it wanted to race in panic, but was paralyzed by horror.

"That is simply not true!" she protested. "Blackwell had already threatened me several times with a lawsuit over the title. He was furious that my child displaced him as the heir. He broke in, intending to kill my baby." Her voice broke on the last sentence, and she grabbed the edge of the pram. "The only reason he was unsuccessful was because Gabriel—that is, Lord Brentworth—stopped him."

"I also believe that to be the case, Duchess. But you must admit that Brentworth's motive to be present in the nursery at the time is suspicious."

"What did he say?" she asked, although she could already imagine.

Gabriel had probably made up a ridiculous story to avoid telling the truth about his relationship with her. He was trying to protect them from scandal at the risk of his own life. Of all the stupid, selfless, noble things to do!

"He said he had learned of Blackwell's plans and had followed him here. But forget what he said. It is a ridiculous story that no one has believed. Including me. I believe in his innocence. And that he was trying to protect the baby. I don't believe that's how he came to be in the nursery."

"You are right. It is not," she whispered.

"What is the truth, Duchess? I am trying to help him, but he won't help himself. I have come to you today because I think you have the key to the truth."

The tea arrived at that moment, and she busied herself with preparing it and serving it. Aycliffe waited patiently.

Coming to a decision, she lifted her chin and announced, "Lord Brentworth, Gabriel, was here that night because he is my lover."