If the Captain hadn’t written to her again and Peter had simply declared himself the day they’d kissed, would she have said yes? If she loved the Captain but not the duke, would revealing himself to be both men mean losing her regardless? Even if she was, in theory, pleased that he was both, could she forgive yet another betrayal? All versions of him—the duke, the Captain, and Peter—had lied to her now.
Then there was the small matter of his title. He’d spent his life thinking he’d never find love because all women wanted it. Now he was in love with someone whodidn’twant it, and who might not marry him as a result. The irony would have been laughable were the stakes not so high.
He prayed that in a few hours, hewouldbe able to laugh because that would mean she’d said yes. Would the archbishop grant a special license if she went with Peter to ask? If she provided assurance that they were betrothed and she did know about it…
He paced, careful not to let the bouquet he held knock against his leg, and glared at the wombat burrow, as if the creature were the one responsible for his current predicament. If only any of these damned animals would show themselves. That would be some positive sign, wouldn’t it?
In his peripheral vision, the Tasmanian tiger jumped against the bars. Peter, already highly strung, flinched. Those claws were huge for an animal that was smaller than a wolfhound. Those bars better hold, or this grand gesture was going to be memorable for all the wrong reasons.
He exhaled sharply. Hiding his identity had been the only way. If he’d revealed the truth when he’d first learned it, she would have stormed away just as he had, and that would have been theend. His intention had been good. His method… He just had to hope she would see past it.
There was awhooshas the door to the enclosure swung open. His heart lodged in his throat. He turned with the flowers proffered in love and abject apology—and two strangers walked in. A nanny in a staid uniform and a young boy in short pants.
“Good Lord, the exhibit isclosed.”
“The sign out front says it’s open,” the nanny replied.
Damn. “The sign is mistaken. Please remove it on your way out.”
“But we want to see—”
He had no time for an argument. “Fine.” He dropped the flowers and ushered the two toward the echidnas. “They are somewhere in there. They will not show themselves.”
The young boy pouted and tried to get closer to the cage, but Peter took him by the shoulders and pushed him to the platypus enclosure. “See, nothing to see here, either.”
“This is notfair.” The boy pouted and banged on the glass as if the platypuses—platypi?—actually cared that a child wanted to see them. They wouldn’t even show themselves to Peter, and he was a duke.
The boy put his hands on his hips and scowled at his nanny. “I want to see the animals. Where are the wombats?”
Peter dragged him to the large mounds of dirt with half-hidden holes in them. “They’re asleep in there. If you want to see them, come back at nighttime.”
“The zoo isn’t open at nighttime.”
“Then you have a problem. Are we done? It’s time to go.” Eleanor would be here momentarily, and these interlopers were not part of his plan.
The boy pointed at the eucalyptus tree, where a blasted koala was eating a leaf and staring at them. “Make it move, Nanny. I want to stay until it moves.”
Peter stared the woman dead in the eye. “All the koalas have syphilis.”
Horrified, the nanny gasped, gathered the child, and ran away, muttering something about “rude, inappropriate men,” as she left.
Peter sighed, glaring at the koala and cursing it for the unnecessary stress it caused by existing.
“Chlamydia.”
Damn.
He spun to face the entrance. Eleanor was standing there with her head cocked and an inscrutable expression. “Koalas have chlamydia, not syphilis.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
As Peter’s mouth opened and closed like a fish that had found itself out of water, Eleanor stood frozen, mind racing in a dozen directions at once. What was he doing there? How did he know where she was going to be? Had Roland been bribed? Was the duke reading her mail? No. That was unlike both of them. Buthow?Andwhy?
Did he plan to confront the Captain? What if the Captain was even taller and more muscular than Peter was? Who would win in a fight? Who did she want to win?
What was he doing there?
“You can always be counted on to have the facts,” he said, gesturing to the disease-ridden koala.
