“I wouldn’t be doing that, my lord,” said the youngling tending his horse. “There be four more just like them two. They just went ’round back, but I seen’m all talking together afore. Them blackguards all be cut from the same cloth, as my mam always says.”
The lad was right. The best thing Drake could do was hie himself to Broadmere Hall and warn the duke and his sisters. He dug every coin he had out of his pocket and gave them to the boy. “Thank you.”
With a hearty nod and a grin, the lad handed him the reins. “Thank you, my lord.”
Drake launched himself into the saddle and spurred the mount onward to the Broadmeres’. Heart pounding and gut churning, an ominous sense of doom nagged at him, whispering,You are too late.He clenched his teeth and pushed the horse harder. He could not be too late. His precious Felicity had to be safe.
As soon as he neared the entrance, he leapt from the saddle, ran to the door, and hammered on it. He almost shouted, “You must let me in!” But he caught himself in time.
Thankfully, Fipps answered the door and swung it open wide. “Good afternoon, Lord Wakefield. Do come in.”
“Thank you, Fipps. Is Lady Felicity available? It is most urgent.”
The butler puckered the slightest frown, which was unusual for the stoic servant. “Lady Felicity has gone to the village with her sister, my lord. Would you care to leave your card so she will know you called?”
“No. That might be too late.” Drake debated going after her, then glanced at the closed door of the library. “Is His Grace available? I promise it is most urgent. Lady Felicity could be in danger.”
“One moment, my lord.” As Drake had hoped, Fipps quietly knocked on the library door, then entered after a muffled command bade him to. It was but a moment before he reemerged and motioned Drake forward. “His Grace and Lady Serendipity will see you now.”
“Thank you, Fipps.” Drake swallowed hard. This would not go well. How could it possibly?
“How is our Felli in danger?” Serendipity asked before he was fully into the room and had closed the door behind him.
Broadmere came out from behind his desk, looking ready to do battle. “What have you done?”
“My uncle owes Rum and Catherty a large sum of money from his days in the gambling hells. They are willing to do anything to him”—Drake thumped a fist to his chest—“and to me to collect what they are owed and then some.”
Broadmere’s eyes narrowed as he moved closer. “You speak as if your uncle still lives.”
“He does.”
“What?” Serendipity shot up from her seat and charged toward him. “What do you mean?”
“Rum and Catherty’s cutthroats caused the carriage accident that supposedly killed Uncle George. He did not die. We made it look as though he did to keep them from trying again and succeeding.”
Slowly shaking her head, Serendipity turned to her brother, but they both remained silent.
“We faked the funeral, the burial, everything,” Drake said. From the look on the duke’s face, he would be lucky if Broadmere didn’t kill him. “The old man bound to the bath chair at Wakefield Manor is not Mr. Charles Pembroke, but the sixth Earl of Wakefield.”
“That makes you…” Broadmere stared at him.
“A fraud. An impostor. Nothing more than a once-proud member of the landed gentry.” Drake kept his hands fisted at his sides, digging his fingernails into his palms. “I did not do it for the title, but to save my uncle. Just as my father often saved his brother up until the time he died.” He stared down at the floor, shaking his head. “And I used up every possible resource I possessed to try to pay my uncle’s debts and restore some honor to the Wakefield name. All for naught, because Rum and Catherty unraveled our poorly established farce and are now not only demanding payment for what they are owed but blackmailing me for impersonating a peer.”
“They will never be satisfied,” the duke said. “You do realize that?”
With a heavy sigh, Drake forced himself to look the man in the eye. “I do.”
“And you think they will harm Felli?” Serendipity eased closer, her hands tightening into fists.
Drake braced himself. She was surely about to strike him, and she had every right. “They are aware of my love for Felicity. Their spies are quite thorough, it seems. I feel certain my spineless uncle also told them anything they wanted to hear.”
“Your uncle is not the only one who is spineless,” Broadmere said, his tone blazing with rising fury. “When did you intend to tell my sister of this inconceivable lie?” The enraged duke bared his teeth like the caged lion he resembled.
“I do not know.” And he didn’t. Drake had hoped against hope for a miracle. Perhaps his cantankerous uncle might die or something. Anything that would enable him never to have to tell Felicity about this despicable secret.
Broadmere drew back and punched him in the face, backing him up several steps. Drake stumbled, but regained his footing before he hit the floor. With the back of his hand, he wiped the blood streaming from his throbbing nose, but he didn’t fight back. He simply stood there and took it. He deserved every bit of their rage, but nothing they could possibly do would equal the fury he wished he could visit upon himself for being such a damned, trusting fool when it came to trying to save his worthless uncle.
“You realize your marriage would have been invalid if you had not told her before the wedding?” Murder in her eyes, Serendipity shook a fist at him.
