Duke and Duplicity (Rogues and Gentlemen Book 15) Page 6

  “I swear I’ll never kiss you again, Will,” she said, the words strangely jerky as her throat closed up. “But… but I’m so happy, you’ll never know.”

  Will snorted, and shook his head, making a shooing motion. “Go away, foolish creature. I want to see Archie. I’ve missed him… her,” he amended, frowning over that and looking so adorably out of his depth it made her heart ache.

  Archie laughed, whooping with mirth at his confusion. “Oh, do stop thinking so hard, Will, you’ll give yourself a headache.”

  ***

  Three days later, she was on the way back to Will’s house. She felt the smile curve over her mouth. He’d forgiven her, not only forgiven her, but accepted her as she was. That Will, who was terrified of scandal—of anything that wasn’t exactly as it ought to be according to the rules of polite society—that he would accept her…. The enormity of it sank into her bones, warmed her chest and chased away much of the sadness that had weighed her done these past weeks.

  Not all of it, though.

  For just a moment, she allowed herself to think of Ranleigh.

  He was taboo now. A forbidden subject. One she would not allow herself to think on lest she give in to temptation and seek him out again. She had told no one about him—about how kind he’d been, how generous—and that felt like a lie too, as though she was taking something away from him by not telling the world how wonderful he was. The temptation to tell Will had been hard to resist, but their friendship was still too newly reborn. She was not brave enough to test it. Not yet.

  She wondered if Ranleigh thought of her too, of the quirky, stubborn young man who had been his guest and travelling companion for six days. Had it had hurt him that she’d not got in touch as she’d promised? Yes, of course it had. She regretted that, so badly her eyes burned to think of it. Though, it was several weeks since they had parted. She doubted he would still think of her now, but then she remembered that loneliness she had seen in him, and his desire to be loved.

  Stop it.

  He’s not for you. He could never be for you.

  Pushing the sadness away, she concentrated on here and now. Will was trying to woo Selina back to him. Privately, Archie suspected he didn’t need to try as hard as he was, if at all. Selina was so obviously in love with him that it was painful to watch. That Will returned her feelings in full was just as plain. Nonetheless, to prove that Will was changing his ways, that he was trying to stop being such a judgemental prig—there was really no other way of putting it—he was giving Selina a party. Not just any party. This party would be the talk of the ton for, well forever. The cream of polite society, mingling with poets, actors, artists, and even some rather notorious names. Anyone who was anyone would be there.

  Bertie Darling, Selina’s father, was taking care of the more colourful invitations whilst Will dealt with the ton. Will had employed Archie as his social secretary to help with the arrangements; a situation he had intimated would be hers permanently… if she wanted it.

  It was too much to take in.

  As she hurried inside, the butler greeted her with resignation if not pleasure, and she went to Will’s study, throwing open the door.

  “I got them!” she said, knowing she sounded triumphant and not a little smug as she flung herself down into a chair and cast her hat on the one opposite her.

  “Well done,” Will said, his relief evident.

  The orchestra he’d wanted had been half promised elsewhere but, as their other client had not supplied the down payment requested, he’d hoped to sway their minds. He’d put Archie in charge of the task, and she’d had no intention of letting him down.

  “How much?” he asked and then frowned, holding up a hand before she could speak. “On the other hand, don’t tell me. It had to be done and it won’t help me to know.”

  “You sound just like Bertie,” Archie said, laughing.

  Will snorted and crossed more names off his list. She watched him for a moment as he frowned over his papers and decided she deserved a drink for her heroic achievement.

  “Brandy, Will?” she asked, helping herself. He looked up and nodded before returning his attention to his lists. Archie poured them each a generous measure.

  “Well, I think we should have a very fair turnout,” Will mused as he got to his feet. Archie held out his glass to him and they moved back to the chairs flanking the fireplace.

  Will sighed at finding Archie’s hat occupying his space and flung it back at her, though there was laughter in his eyes. Archie caught it one-handed and grinned, placing it rather irreverently on a bust of Marcus Aurelius before sitting down opposite him.

  “A fair turnout,” she repeated, rolling her eyes and making herself comfortable. “That’s like saying Prinny is just a little plump.”

  Will snorted, looking a trifle scandalised by her words but unable to hide his amusement.

  “Did that nonsense over the candles get sorted?” he asked, warming the brandy glass in the palm of his hand.

  Archie nodded. “Oh, yes, but you should have heard your housekeeper going on about it. Lawks, but she’s got a tongue on her. Don’t reckon you’ll be sent four-hour candles when they ought to be six-hour ones again, though.”

  “Well, it would have been rather a dampener if we’d been plunged into gloom before the night was over,” he mused, frowning a little. Will stared into his drink for a moment. “Do you think she’s here yet?”

  Archie grinned at him. He’d asked the question several times already today. He was so desperate to see his wife he would burst something if he wasn’t careful. She nodded. “Yes. I bumped into Rupert when I was out. They’d just dropped her off at Bertie’s. She’s desperate to know what’s going on.” She paused, sighing and shaking her head as she looked at Will. The poor blighter looked so anxious.

  “Stop fretting!” she exclaimed.

  “I can’t help it. I feel sick with it,” Will admitted. “I am doing the right thing, aren’t I? She will be pleased?”

  “For at least the fifth time, Will, for heaven’s sake, yes! She’d going to be beside herself with joy at the trouble you’ve taken. Now will you stop worrying?”

  Will gave a huff of laughter and shook his head. “I doubt it, but I will try.”

  Archie smiled and then felt a familiar tug at her heart. God they were lucky. Will and Selina, despite all their differences and a very shaky start, truly loved each other. They had endured furious rows, and both had behaved badly but… they had persevered, they had worked it out, and Archie knew they would be happy together. For a moment she felt an ugly pang of jealousy, and Ranleigh’s face rose unbidden behind her eyes. A swell of longing filled her chest.

  “Who are you attending the ball with?”

  Archie jumped, feeling as though he had caught her out doing something she ought not and blushed scarlet.

  “No one!” she said, a little too quickly.

  Will frowned.

  He sat forward in his seat, scrutinising her. “You’ve met someone,” he said, his tone accusing.

  “I… I haven’t!” she retorted. It wasn’t really a lie, not really. Nothing had happened or could ever happen; Ranleigh thought she was a man, for heaven’s sake. So, you couldn’t count it as meeting someone, but her blush deepened all the same.

  “Dash it all, Archie,” Will exclaimed, looking so offended her heart sank. “After telling you my darkest secrets, I think you might spill the beans. Who is he?”

  He watched her, his expression uneasy as Archie shook her head. “I would,” she said carefully, “if there were anything to tell, honestly, and it’s true there is someone I… I’m fond of but….” Good Lord, where on earth was she going with this?

  “But?” Will demanded, frowning harder.

  She stared at Will, knowing everything he had done for her, and the risks he took in guarding their friendship, let alone employing her. He deserved the truth. “He thinks I’m a man.”

  Will stared at her incredulously and she had t
o fight to hold his gaze. Guilt burned through her as sadness rose again, reminding her that this was the price she paid for her freedom, for a life where she didn’t require a chaperone and acres of muslin to conform.

  As she watched, Will’s face softened.

  “You’d best tell me all about it,” he said, and the gentleness in his voice made her throat thicken.

  Archie nodded, she owed him that much. “I will if you like,” she said, forcing the words past the tightness. “Only, not now. After the ball, all right?”

  She grinned at him, forcing her facial muscles to make the expression convincing and Will nodded, though concern still lurked in his expression. With a sigh, Archie forced herself to push Ranleigh from her mind, and turned the conversation back to their preparations.

  ***

  Archie hugged her arms about herself as she watched Will and Selina dancing together. It was the most perfect moment, like something out of a fairy tale. Tears pricked at her eyes as happiness for her friends welled up inside her, alongside something hollow and aching as she accepted it was something she would never have. It was silly anyway. She didn’t want to be the princess, nor even the prince. Wearing a frilly dress and swooning into a man’s arms… well, what an idea. Yet the image lingered of walking into Ranleigh’s arms, of seeing him look down at her with such raw emotion as she’d seen in Will’s as he looked upon his wife. Dancing with him would be… a dream.

  She tried to imagine how they would look together, both in black evening dress, and had to force back a curse. Idiot. Ranleigh would be a laughing stock if that ever happened. Not that there was any danger of it.

  Swallowing hard, Archie swiped away a tear and tried to recapture the happiness she’d felt for Will and Selina once more, concentrating on watching them move around the floor.

  “You’re a romantic, Mr Archibald.”

  Archie almost leapt out of her skin, turning to stare as the familiar voice made her skin flush with guilt and embarrassment, as though the man could have seen what she was thinking.

  “R-Ranleigh,” she stammered.

  Her heart was thudding so damn hard she wondered if she might do something appalling and faint. She forced herself to straighten, damned if she would do something so utterly hopeless in front of him. Why, oh why, had she not troubled herself to check Will’s guest list as well as Bertie’s?

  “Yes. Well may you flush, you young scapegrace. I’ve been searching high and low for you for bloody weeks. I was certain something terrible had happened to you, that you’d been murdered by cutthroats, or press-ganged or something equally dire, but it appears my concern was misplaced.” He paused, holding her gaze. “Was my company so disagreeable?” The words were light, and his tone amused, but Archie had spent hours and days in this man’s company. She knew him, could she see the hurt in his eyes.

  “Oh, no,” she said, the words rushed and filled with anguish as she took a step closer to him, forcing her hand into a fist before she could lay it on his arm in reassurance. “No, never. I….”

  She flushed harder still, at a loss. What could she say? She had promised to forward her address to him, to reassure him she was well, and she hadn’t done so, had never intended to do so.

  “You never intended to get in touch. Did you?”

  It felt as though the truth of those words were written on her face for him to see. Archie swallowed, unable to escape the question or deny it. She shook her head, not sure her voice would work if she tried to reply.

  “You lied to my face,” Ranleigh said, a little anger beneath his words. “Do you not think I have the right to know why? If you think me tiresome or a stuck-up old fool, say so and have done with it. I promise I’ll leave you in peace.”

  Her breathing was fast and shallow, and Archie felt like something small and scurrying caught in the sights of something far bigger and more powerful. It was not a pleasant sensation.

  There was only one thing she could say that wasn’t a lie and wouldn’t expose her, wouldn’t leave her—and Will, by association—open to a scandal.

  “You’re a duke,” she said, spreading her hands in a helpless gesture. “And I….”

  “Damn it!” Ranleigh said in disgust. “I never took you for a snob.”

  Archie jolted at that. “I-I’m not!” she exclaimed, horrified by the idea.

  “Yes, you are,” he said bitterly. “An inverted snob.”

  “No!” She moved forward now, the hand that had wanted to reach for him before settling on his arm, crushing his sleeve as she held on tight. Archie shook her head, pleading in her eyes. “No. It… it isn’t like that. Truly it isn’t, only I… I didn’t want you feeling sorry for me, or responsible for me. I must make my own way, pay my own bills. I need… I need to do this by myself, because I can, not because I have a powerful friend.”

  Ranleigh stared at her, a frown still lingering between his eyes. He let out a breath. “I’m not sure I believe that.”

  Archie held her breath, not knowing what to do, what to say.

  “And if I swear I won’t pay your bills, won’t interfere and make life easy for you. What then?”

  She was caught, she realised. Escaping this man would never happen. He moved in the same circles as Will. Just yesterday she had agreed to work for Will, as his secretary. Sooner or later Ranleigh would bump into her again. Surely, being his friend wouldn’t be such a hardship if she kept him at arm’s length? It didn’t mean they had to spend every waking hour together. She doubted he’d want to. He only wanted a convivial companion from time to time. The only reason they had spent so much time together before was because they’d been stuck in a carriage together. It was clear he was a busy man, his interests many and varied. It was likely they’d only meet now and then. She could do that. Couldn’t she?

  Couldn’t she have that much of him?

  Archie licked her lips, her brain turning the idea over.

  “Fancy a drink?” she said, wishing her heart would slow to a gallop; it was making her feel lightheaded.

  Ranleigh grinned.

  Chapter 6

  “Wherein … a dangerous game.”

  She took him to The Swan on Bayswater Road, eager to impress upon him the fact she was no snob and interested to discover if he was as open-minded as he appeared to be.

  The pub was not the kind frequented by dukes. Whilst not exactly a spit-and-sawdust affair, it wasn’t exactly respectable either.

  Ranleigh looked about him with interest while Archie bought them drinks, amused that Ranleigh allowed it. She suspected he didn’t dare object.

  They sat down and Archie took a sip of her ale. It was sweet and fruity, and she denied herself the urge to gulp. Ranleigh had no such compunction and she watched his throat work as he swallowed half the glass. She tore her gaze away, wishing she could halt the swell of desire she felt in his presence.

  “This is the final drinking place for those on their way to the gallows at Tyburn,” she said, watching his face light with curiosity. “Apparently the highwayman Claude Duvall supped his last here before he went on the wagon.”

  She grinned at the pun and Ranleigh chuckled.

  “Fascinating,” he said, looking about at a motley selection of clientele. He took another large mouthful of his drink before turning to her again. “So, then, what have you been up to since we last met?”

  Archie raised her own glass, and as she didn’t have an answer prepared, she followed Ranleigh’s example and drank deeply, despite the fact it was a terrible idea. She placed the glass down and took a breath.

  “I found a job, rented a room, caught up with some friends.”

  She shrugged, hoping he’d leave it at that.

  “Congratulations,” he said, looking pleased for her. “What’s the job?”

  “Secretary,” she said, lifting her glass again, more for something to do than because she wanted a drink. Her nerves were jangling now.

  “To whom?”

  Archie shrugged, aiming for nonchala
nce though her palms were sweating. “No one you’d know,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “Want another?” she drained her glass, slightly appalled that she’d finished it so quickly, and got up to fetch another before he could answer.

  Archie took her time fetching the drinks but couldn’t evade the rather narrow-eyed stare that slanted in her direction as she sat back down.

  “I know a lot of people,” Ranleigh said, inexorably returning to their conversation.

  Archie opened her mouth, but Ranleigh held out a hand before she could speak.

  “No,” he said, his expression unreadable. “Don’t tell me a lie. If you don’t want to tell me… well, I can’t pretend to understand but, if that’s the way you want it, then fine. I will respect your privacy, I swear. Only….” He paused, looking hesitant to voice what came next. “You’re not involved in anything illegal? You’re not a revolutionary or—”

  Archie burst out laughing and Ranleigh let out a breath.

  “I had to ask,” he said, a trifle defensively.

  “Like I’d admit it if I was?” she retorted, too amused not to tease him a little.

  Ranleigh folded his arms, glowering.

  “Well, you’re the one who’s full of secrets, not me. I’m an open book,” he grumbled.

  Archie felt her expression soften and forced her gaze back to her drink before he saw it. It was true. Ranleigh wore his heart on his sleeve, uncaring what anyone thought of him, outwardly at any rate. She suspected he did care, rather a lot.

  “Ranleigh.” She looked up again, holding his gaze. “I may not always give you answers to your questions, but if I do answer you, I swear I won’t lie again. You have my word.”

  Ranleigh stared at her for a moment and then nodded, accepting that. She watched as he downed his ale and got to his feet.

  “I want a proper drink,” he said, pushing past the table that lurched on uneven legs as he squeezed past.