‘Are you—’ Her voice faltered. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to ask, ‘Are you the murderer?’
‘Calm down,’ he urged. ‘I am not the killer.’
Before she could bolt, he stepped into her path, catching her arms in a firm yet gentle grip.
‘I am the Duke of Armitage.’
A stunned silence fell between them, thick and suffocating.
‘You lie,’ she whispered. ‘The heir was abroad when his family summoned him to return. He was a month’s journey away! But you—you were here at Skye Manor barely two weeks after the Duke’s death. That is impossible.’
He released her. ‘I see you have been investigating the matter quite thoroughly,’ he noted. ‘Yes, my family did send for my return, but I was already making my way back to England before my father’s death. I received an alarming letter from him—just days before he was killed.’
Her mind reeled, struggling to reconcile this revelation. Could it be true? Could he truly be the elusive Duke of Armitage? He had been living among them as an ordinary man, hiding in plain sight.
‘How am I supposed to believe anything you say?’ she demanded, shaking her head in frustration. She took another step back, needing to put distance between them.
‘I know it is a great deal to take in,’ he admitted.
Reaching into his inner coat pocket, he retrieved a heavy gold signet ring and a folded letter. The ducal seal gleamed in the candlelight.
‘When you come to London, my family and friends can confirm my identity,’ he said, his voice softening, though his eyes remained sharp, assessing her reaction.
He extended the letter towards her. ‘This was written by my father.’
With trembling fingers, Grace took it.
‘I received this letter before his death,’ he continued. ‘And enclosed within it was your letter.’
She stiffened. ‘My letter?’
‘Yes. Thanks to you, my father discovered that his man of business—Barnes—was running a racket under his very nose for years.’
Grace’s breath caught. Her vision blurred for a moment.
‘You see, father confronted Barnes after reading what you had written. That was when Barnes confessed that he had been working with a member of our own family—engaging in illegal dealings across our Estates.’ His voice darkened. ‘Barnes agreed to reveal the name of this traitor, their methods, and all their accomplices in exchange for money and protection. Father agreed to do so on the condition that he provided evidence.’
He moved towards the window, staring out at the moonlit landscape, his profile rigid with barely suppressed emotion.
‘But before Barnes could return with the evidence he promised—he disappeared.’
His next words were quieter, laced with something that sounded dangerously like sorrow.
‘My father sent for me immediately,’ he went on, his tone heavy with regret. ‘In his final letter to me, he mentioned that both Barnes and Gibbs had been recommended to him by one person.’
Grace’s heart pounded. She spoke barely above a whispering, ‘Who?’
He turned to her then, his expression grim—a look she now understood to mean grief.
‘Father didn’t name him in the letter,’ he said, his voice taut. ‘He wasn’t certain whether he should suspect this person yet. But he did mention this—’ He took a slow, measured breath before continuing. ‘This family member had been urging him for years to purchase Estates near the coastline. Father suspected it was because he had set up a smuggling operation across these lands.’
Grace swallowed hard against the lump rising in her throat. As he spoke, the truth settled over her with an unforgiving weight—he was Lord Armitage, the new Duke. There was no denying it.
A sharp pang of grief threatened to overwhelm her, but she forced herself to keep her composure, stifling the sob that clawed at her throat. The person standing before her was no longer Mr Stone—the man she had fallen in love with.
He did not exist.
Before her stood the Duke of Armitage. A stranger.
