Chapter 28

They arrived at the lavish house, which Grace could not have imagined in her wildest dreams. Even compared to the poor late Porter's house, this place was a palace.

It was the late Duke of Wolverstone's home. No, this was the Duke of Wolverstone's home—the owner had changed, but the title remained the same.

She couldn't believe this was where her father had resided all this time while she was living in squalor. Resentment curled up in her stomach.

He didn't know, she reasoned. At least, it was likely that he didn't.

The Duchess of Kensington, a red-haired beauty, wearing all black colors, greeted them in a drawing room twice the size of Grace's entire home.

The duchess welcomed them inside and poured them tea as though they were her equals. "How did you know the duke?" she asked.

"I didn't," Grace said honestly. Then came the lie. "He showed me kindness once when I was little. That's all."

The duchess's eyes misted over. "He was a very kind man. Very generous."

A boulder settled in Grace's throat. He was generous, wasn't he? When living under his protection, she had had everything she wished for… except for his presence and affection.

"Yes," Graces rasped and took a sip of tea to moisten her dry throat.

Ford took Grace's hand and squeezed a silent reassurance.

"Can you tell me more about him?" Grace asked. "You must have been close."

The duchess swallowed, her fingers tightening on the fabric of her skirt. "He was like an uncle to me. After my parents passed, he was a constant presence in my life. And then when my uncle passed, he stepped in and filled that role for me."

He was like an uncle to me, said the stranger.

Yet, he was a stranger to his own daughter.

"Did he…" Grace stumbled over her words. "Did he ever have a family? A woman he loved, perhaps?"

The duchess seemed to contemplate it for a moment, then shook her head. "He was a life-long bachelor."

"So, he didn't speak of anyone to you? A mistress?"

The duchess seemed surprised by the question, but she seriously considered it. "I don't believe so. At least, he never told me anything like that, not that he would."

"If he loved someone, I am certain he would have," Grace said, hiding disappointment from her tone.

The duchess smiled. "Perhaps. Why do you ask?"

Grace shook her head. "No reason. Just wondering if there is anyone else mourning his loss."

Ford leaned in and whispered in her ear, "Tell her." You might gain a sister, his eyes communicated.

But Grace shook her head. She didn't want to confuse the woman's grief. She had nothing to do with the duke's conduct. It was better to leave it be, buried with the duke.

"Thank you for—" Grace was about to get up when the door opened and a tall, confident man walked inside.

"Pardon me." He stopped at the threshold. "I didn't know you had guests."

That voice. The way he held himself was painfully familiar.

The duchess stood. "That's not a problem. Would you like some tea?"

He turned toward them… His eyes, his nose—she'd seen him before.

"No, I would just like to have a word."

The duchess nodded and excused herself.

Grace immediately turned to Ford. "It's him," she whispered, her pulse drumming in her throat.

"Who?" Ford frowned and leaned forward, to hear her better.

"That man!" Grace's eyes flickered to the cracked opened door. "The man who used the name Erebus to get into our brothel."

"Are you certain?" His eyes widened in surprise.

"Absolutely. He was wearing a disguise, but I am absolutely certain it is him. I recognized his voice and even some features of his face."

The duchess rushed back in then and settled back apologetically.

"Apologies for asking," Ford said. "Who was the man who just walked into the room?"

"Oh, I am sorry, I should have introduced you, I tend to lose my manners when I get emotional." She smiled. "That's the new Duke of Wolverstone."

The End.

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