So she put on the gown and combed her hair, styling it in a simple updo that left a few stray strands framing her face. Her stomach fluttered as she gazed back at her reflection. If only she didn't care what he thought about her appearance. She shook her head. Better yet, if only she hadn't fallen in love with a man who would soon be leaving.
Caleb didn't really needto go into the village to buy nails, but he did get the feeling that Mary would appreciate his absence when she eventually decided to come down for breakfast. Additionally, he and Apollo both enjoyed the vigorous ride across the fields, a longer route than the road had to offer, but it settled his mind and filled his lungs with fresh air.
“Whoa,” he said, slowing Apollo from a gallop to a trot. Leaning forward in the saddle, he stroked the horse's neck and proceeded to steer him onto the road that would take them into the village. Perhaps he'd buy more strawberry tarts while he was there. They'd certainly put a smile on Mary's face last time he'd brought them back with him. She'd especially liked that he'd bought enough for everyone.
The edge of his mouth hitched with satisfaction. Everything looked brighter today. The grass was greener, the sky a deeper shade of blue. Even the birds sang merrier tunes than they had yesterday. Before she'd kissed him.
Caleb's chest grew tight just thinking about it. It was as if there weren’t enough room inside him to contain his heart, which had more than doubled in size since that wondrous moment when she leaned forward and placed her mouth against his.
Everything had changed in that instant.Hehad changed, from a man who believed he could simply go back to London and the duty awaiting him, to a man who would never go anywhere again without Mary Clemens by his side.
Granted, there was a problem. The very messy and potentially damming problem regarding his true identity. She would not absolve him easily, but he hoped she would understand his reason for being dishonest. He was sure if he reminded her that she would not have spoken to him at all had she known he was a duke—never mind George’s brother—she would forgive him without hesitation.
Whether or not she'd accept his proposal, however, was quite another matter, but he chose to be confident with this as well. After all, she clearly cared for him, and she must know he cared for her as well. Together they could be happy. He was absolutely convinced of the fact even though he knew persuading her might be tricky considering her aversion to the aristocracy in general and the deep responsibility she felt toward the children who lived at Clearview.
Perhaps if he suggested they spend most of their time in the country, she would agree more readily? As it was, he preferred the simpler life to whatever it was he’d experienced in London for six months before coming here. He really had no desire to return to that at all, even though he knew he had to. Already, he’d been gone far too long, to the point where he now expected to receive a letter from Aldridge every morning, informing him that his mother or his secretary required his immediate presence. It had been two months after all, so he wouldn’t be surprised to learn that their patience with him had run out. Especially not with Christmas only a month away.
An idea sprang to life. Maybe he and Mary could invite Miss Howard, Lady Cassandra, and the children to celebrate with them at Braxton House in the Cotswolds. He was certain his mother would love seeing the grand estate filled with people and to be surrounded by boisterous laughter. They’d go ice skating on the lake and drink mulled wine in the evenings. It would be perfect, and the more he thought about it, the more he looked forward to it. But first, he would have to speak with Mary and make his confession. After that, everything else would fall into place for the simple reason that it had to.
It was a novel concept that lasted the hour it took him to purchase strawberry tarts and ride back to Clearview, where he found another horse tied to the fence outside. It wasn’t the one Mr. Townsend usually used, which suggested someone else had come to call. Mr. Partridge perhaps?
Leading Apollo back to his spot by the cottage, Caleb dusted off his boots and removed his hat before heading to the house. He entered through the kitchen as usual and made his way toward the parlor from which voices could be heard, primarily that of a man he had not seen in ten long years. He froze for a second to listen more carefully. His chest tightened and his breath caught in his throat. It wasn’t possible. His ears must be deceiving him, yet he knew the voice so well there could be no doubt.
With shaking heart he opened the door and sought out his brother, Griffin, his face a near copy of his own, save for the paler-colored eyes and a new scar adorning his cheek.
“I’ll be damned,” Caleb muttered. For a good long second he just stood there staring while Griffin grinned back at him. And then somehow he forced his feet into motion while Griffin stood and came toward him as well. A split second later they embraced each other, and it was as if all the years apart fell away.
“It is good to see you too,” Griffin muttered. He patted Caleb’s back before stepping aside and flippantly adding, “Your Grace.”
Caleb stiffened. He glanced at where Lady Cassandra and Mary were sitting, the former looking curious while the latter had schooled her features into something completely unreadable. “What have you told them about me?’ he asked his brother in a whisper meant only for Griffin’s ears.
Griffin looked confused. “I don’t follow.”
That did not bode well. Caleb gritted his teeth. “I mean—”
“We know who you really are,” Mary said, “and I daresay you owe us a bloody good explanation.”
Her emotions had never beenas conflicted as they were right now. Anger, disappointment, and love warred inside her, confusing her to no end. She needed to know why he’d done this to her – tothem. Perhaps then she could find a way to forgive him for the lies he’d told since the moment he’d presented himself as a common laborer who’d come to fix the roof.
She still hadn’t fully recovered from his brother’s arrival. When the knock had sounded at the door and she’d gone to open it, she’d had no doubt as to the identity of the man facing her. He looked almost identical to Caleb, except for a few distinguishable features, and the clothes of course, which were a great deal finer.
He’d asked if the Duke of Camberly was in, to which Mary had responded with a startled snort. Her first thought was that he had to be joking, but then he’d launched into a lengthy explanation, and Cassandra had arrived, and somehow they’d all ended up in the parlor with a tea tray before them.
She stared at Caleb – Mr. Crawford – the Duke of Camberly – and wondered for the thousandth time how he’d managed to fool her so thoroughly. And to think that he’d carried on doing so after discovering that the man who’d broken her heart was his very own brother!
“Mary, I…” He blinked, looking utterly lost and slightly helpless.
Her heart longed to take pity, but her brain refused to allow it. So she crossed her arms and straightened her spine. This was not at all how she had imagined their next encounter after what had occurred between them last night. She’d believed she would blush and avert her gaze while he’d try to charm her into additional kisses. But now… A lump rose in her throat. She wasn’t sure she would ever want to kiss him again.
“Perhaps you should have a seat,” Cassandra suggested.
Mary glared at her in an effort to say that the cad deserved to stay standing, but Cassandra answered with a quelling look and offered the dastardly man some tea to boot. His brother returned to his own seat with a lot less enthusiasm than he’d shown moments earlier.
“Thank you,” Caleb muttered. He glanced at the vacant spot on the sofa beside her but chose an armchair instead. Mary breathed a sigh of relief. Leaning forward, he rested his forearms against his thighs and gave his attention to the table before slowly saying, “When I returned to England eight months ago, it was with every intention of proving my worth to a father who’d always insisted I lacked common sense and usefulness. Instead, I discovered that he and my older brother had perished in a fire shortly before my arrival.”
He looked up, directly at Mary, and the pain and regret she saw in his eyes twisted her heart until it ached. “I wasn’t raised to be a duke, and I never wanted to be one. That was George’s fate, not mine.” He shook his head and expelled a tortured breath. “Living in France, away from the wealthy elite, just building and fixing things with my hands, was a wonderful way of life. When I inherited the title, I tried to do my duty, to be the duke I was expected to be. But I hated every second of it, every moment spent in my study dealing with problems pertaining to others, the acquisition of funds necessary to keep my estates running, and my mother’s increasing persistence I take a bride and set up a nursery. It was exhausting and not at all conducive to my own happiness. So I planned my escape, and Aldridge mentioned this house and the need it had for repairs. It seemed like the perfect opportunity for me to return to what I enjoy doing while taking a much needed break from the pressure of being a duke.”
Mary sympathized, yet she could not forget the extent he’d gone to in order to deceive them. “You told me your father was in Lord Vernon’s employ.”
