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Jasper could have seduced her all evening right there in the hedgerow, but his name being shouted repeatedly by searching

footmen combined with the heavy boots of police officers stamping all about the garden barking questions at eyewitnesses was

enough to put him off romance. For the time being.

"I'm here," he called, stepping out of the bushes, his fingers laced between Esme's. The satisfied glow on her face of a woman

properly kissed delighted him to no end.

One of the footmen, John, spotted him and darted through the crowd. "Sir." Out of breath and red in the face, the boy looked

ready to drop. "His Grace is looking for you and requires your presence in the front drive."

Weaving through the guests who were discussing wildly varying accounts of the evening's drama, Jasper led Esme through the house and out the front door. Blazing torches lined the gravel drive, throwing the manicured lawn and clipped trees into flaming orange. Six black automobiles were jumbled together with thick tire marks behind them as if the police had raced to the front door. A likely scenario as there was little excitement to be found in Blackheathe.

Duke stood in a ring of coppers with little notepads and pencils, each trying to pitch their questions to be heard over the

others.

"I've given you my final answers." Duke's voice rose above the noise. "If any more questions should arise, you may direct

them to my solicitor. I thank you for your prompt attention to this disruption as I expect nothing less from the fine men

of Blackheathe's law enforcement. Ah, Jasper, my boy!"

Like a gaggle of honking geese, the police turned and rushed as one to surround Jasper and Esme, lobbing question after question

about the attack. It seemed an age before Jasper had answered all of their inquiries and could finally step away. He thought

briefly of stealing Esme away and finding the nearest dark spot to canoodle in, but she looked perfectly at ease surrounded

by those men hanging on her every word, each one spoken further enchanting them. The wrinkled blouse, tousled hair, and chipped

manicure could not dim her sparkle. And he never wanted anything to.

Duke came and stood next to him in the towering shadow of the house. "Tell me again why you're so quick to toss out such a

woman."

Esme threw her head back and laughed as one of the coppers asked if she had formal training in taking down crooks. It wasn't

the coy, stilted laugh she gave when toying about, but rather a full-throated laugh of joy that set everything right in Jasper's

world.

"I've changed my mind on that account," he said, noting the way her wedding band caught the torchlight. The gold dazzled like

a beacon of fire.

"Glad to hear that. The Roxburgh men need a level-headed woman in a crisis from time to time."

Jasper's pleasant thoughts of romance and wedding bands came to a screeching halt. "Why are you so eager to tie me into the

Roxburgh line all of a sudden? Twenty-eight years have gone by, and you were happy to keep me as ‘Truitt,' hidden away and

only summoned on occasion to do your beck and call."

"Beck and call?" Duke's trimmed eyebrows flew up to his combed hairline. "What were all those trips I took you on? Buying

wardrobes in Italy. Wine tastings in France. Polo matches, yacht sailing. Greek, Latin, and German tutors. What was that all

for if not to prepare you to become my heir?"

"You could have done the same for my father. Why didn't you recognize him?"

"Your father was a womanizing drunkard. He never had what it took to be a Roxburgh. He would have squandered the family legacy."

"And you haven't?"

"I may have overspent my coffers," Duke admitted with a grunt. "But I knew you would be the one to fill them again. You are

resourceful, charming, efficient, keenly intelligent, and possess the rare ability to see straight through the veneer to the

core of a situation. All elements of a successful man yet rarely seen in aristocrats. I may have failed to give your father

a better life, but I didn't wish to repeat the mistake with you."

"Or rather, you knew your options for a legitimate heir were dwindling and accepted that a bastard grandson was better than none at all." Deep down Jasper had known the ugly truth all along, but there had always been a part of him that clung to the hope of being accepted for his own merits rather than as a last resort. It was why he had perfected his Greek with those tutors. Had watched the boring rounds of polo. And why he had chased so long and hard after the Valkyrie. All for acceptance.

But he was no longer that little boy craving recognition from a family that couldn't bother to invite him to Christmas. He

was a man responsible for his own way, and of that he could be proud.

"I would be lying to deny the truth in your statement. I should have recognized you from the start, and for that lapse in

judgment I am sorry. This society in which we live is cruel. Everything hinges on one's birth, and for you to be born on the

wrong side of the blanket... Well, society makes it their mission to grind you beneath their privileged heels. The weak

don't survive, so I wanted to toughen you up, thicken your skin so their barbs could never penetrate once you stepped into

place as my heir, which I have reserved for you all along.

"Perhaps it was not the best course of action, but I could think of no other who would train you for success. And, my boy,

you have surpassed my greatest expectations." Duke settled his hand on Jasper's shoulder. A gesture he often used to signify

power, but there was nothing of that in the touch now. "It's high time the Roxburghs stand proudly where we are today and

not linger in the glory of generations past. You are the one to bring us forward."

It was everything Jasper had dreamed of hearing, yet his dreams had shifted. Instead of excitement rushing in his blood, a

great reluctance chugged through.

"You could have had the decency to tell me before publicly announcing my inheritance."

"I knew you would balk. As any self-made man would rightly do."

"A self-made man doesn't need a title to determine his worth in the world."

"He does not, but a worthy man taking on the title could make it great again. Respectable, a beacon of strength, a power for

good. You've become that man, Jasper. The man I'm proud to call my blood."

All his life Jasper had been told of his less-than worth. As if his very existence was nothing more than a dirty smudge on

the underbelly of life. For most, he still was, but Duke never considered him that. He had educated him, allowed him to travel,

and given him opportunities to forge his path through the world in his own way. He'd also allowed Jasper to fall, get kicked

around, and even tossed in jail. All to thicken his skin for what lay ahead as Duke of Loxhill. It was a completely and utterly

daft way to train one's future heir, but the old man had never been conventional. His choosing Jasper was proof of that.

The scars deep inside him twitched as the bitterness stitching them together withdrew its hooks. All this time, he, Jasper

Truitt, had been chosen, but it had been his own abilities that proved him worthy.

"I never wanted the title," Jasper said slowly.

Duke rocked back unsteadily on his heels. "You refuse the dukedom?"

"I—" Jasper's answer was cut short by a screeching of Italian.

Two officers emerged from the house escorting Countess Accardi. Two more trailed with Pirazzo in handcuffs.

"You!" She turned wild eyes on Duke. Black mascara drained down her rouged cheeks. "I will see your liver boiled in oil for

this!"

"You were always quick with words in your heated temper. How I shall miss that, Rossalina." Duke sighed with what sounded like regret. "Perhaps next time you'll finally pull that trigger successfully. Best out of three. What do you say?"

"You mean she's tried to shoot you before?" Jasper asked.

"Of course. The summer of 1893—no '92. We'd sailed my yacht to the Amalfi coast. She caught me speaking with one of the local

girls and pulled her gun on me. Oddly enough, I believe it was the same gun she used tonight. I told her the sea air would

rust it out. Perhaps that's why it didn't shoot." He sighed again over the memory. "Keep that in mind should you ever take

an Italian lover."

Jasper's gaze shifted to find Esme's eyes on him. "I already have the ideal lover. I need no other."

The countess continued her hysterics worthy of Lady Macbeth, thrashing about and trying to bite at the hands clamped around

her arms. She was ushered to one of the waiting autos. The police thrust her into the back seat and slammed the door shut.

Pirazzo was stuffed without ceremony into the auto idling behind hers.

Esme skipped out of her ring of admirers and over to Jasper and Duke.

"At last it's curtains closed for the old diva. Perhaps she'll find a new audience behind bars." She waved and blew a kiss

to Countess Accardi, who had her hateful face pressed against the window.

"Your Grace!" A footman rushed around the side of the house, polished shoes slipping on the manicured grass. "Your Grace!

I have it!" In his outstretched, white-gloved hands was the Valkyrie.

Skidding to a halt and nearly bowling into his employer, the young man gasped for breath. "Me and Muloney caught him...

gasp... the thief... gasp ... over near the garage." He panted, normal color returning to his red face. "Muloney got him by the legs. Down the thief

went, and the tiara flew out of his hands. I grabbed it and Muloney tackled him, but the nasty fellow bit poor old Muloney

and took off into the trees. We couldn't catch him, sir."

Duke took his prodigal prize and turned it over to inspect the R inscribed on the inner headpiece. At last, the original had returned home.

"A fine job the both of you did. You cannot know what this means to me. Thank you."

The relief and gratitude on Duke's face held nothing of the greed Jasper had associated with him. Withholding the tiara would

have deepened the bitterness crusted into Jasper, shackling him to a poison that would eat his soul. He was done with that.

As the footman bowed and walked away, Duke grinned like a boy on his first pony.

"If you'll excuse me, I'm going to lock this in the vault before anyone else gets an idea to swipe it tonight. I half expect

another lunatic to jump out of the hedge."

"Or a chicken." Esme shuddered.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing." She waved him away.

After a few steps, Duke paused and turned back. "Convince your husband to take the title. I have a sense you would look ravishing

in diamonds, Mrs. Truitt."

"As do I." Esme beamed and looped her arms around Jasper's neck.

"Ow! Careful, woman. I've been strangled."

"My apologies." She loosened her grip while still holding him close. As Duke disappeared into the house, Esme looked at Jasper with a frown. "What's this about the title?"

He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. It was pure heaven on earth to hold her when she wasn't attempting

one of her disappearing acts.

"I don't want the title. Nor the diamonds. The only thing I want is you. Disappointed?"

"Not in the least."

"Not even about the diamonds?" he prodded.

"The only bit of jewelry that interests me is right here." Trailing a finger across his cheek and down his chest, she pulled

her hand back and tapped the ring resting at the base of her throat.

He took the ring and gave a slight tug. The chain broke from around her neck. He slid the cool band of metal off the chain

and onto her finger.

"Better than any tiara."

"I'll say."

He kissed her, slow and deep and full of promise. Promises he had no intention of breaking and every intention of surpassing.

She smiled against his mouth, her body warm and soft, pressing into him as the scent of orange blossoms filled his senses.

He'd held her before but never like this. A wall of defense had always stood between them, breached only momentarily in fits

of passion yet remaining solid in resistance. This kiss shook the walls. The bricks and stones and cracked bits of mortar

tumbled at their feet ready to build a new foundation. One on which they would stand together. If she made him chase her around

a turret or two for old times' sake, he would hardly mind that.

Too soon she leaned back. Her fingers dragged through the hairs on the back of his neck, sending chills over the grazed skin.

"But, Jasper, you will take the title."

"Now, Esme, we've been through this. I never wanted to be a duke. All I wanted— want —is a family who is proud to call me one of its own."

"I'm proud to call you mine." Her finger traced over his ear. "And Duke has been strutting around all evening eager to present

you to these snobs, to tell them you are undeniably his chosen heir. The man is going to pop a button if he swells with anymore

pride. Quite different from the tune you thought he was whistling all along."

Jasper grunted. "Yes, it turns out I was wrong about his motivations."

"Oh my! Two Roxburgh men admitting their faults in one evening. Can the world withstand such earth-shattering confessions?"

"Joke all you like, but I don't belong here. I don't belong anywhere. Not thieving and not as a duke."

"The devil with belonging. We'll create our own world and rules, and you will make something wonderful of it. After all, you've

proven yourself quite the champion of lost causes." She smiled and tickled the back of his neck with her nails. "You are what

this stuffy old place needs, and I will be supporting you every step of the way."

Leaning his forehead against hers, he tried to hide the smile insistent upon curling his lips. Lips that were most eager to

return to hers.

"You mean you'll be running the show."

She gave a dainty shrug that in every way said yes.

"Are you trying to convince me just so you can wear the Valkyrie?"

Not bothering to hide her own wide smile, she brushed her lips across his.

"Why, darling, a girl would be out of her mind to chuck away diamonds."