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But no longer. Words burned in her throat, and then they were tumbling from her lips. “I haven’t the vaguest idea what you’re talking about, Phillippa.”

“No? How curious.” Phillippa smiled, her teeth gleaming in the meager light coming from the window at the end of the hallway. “Why, it’s just this, my dear. Do you know the name of that gentleman you were so shamelessly kissing in the garden just now?”

Phillippa had been spying on her? The blood rushed from Stella’s head with a violence that left her chilled and shaking.

This was bad. It was very, very bad.

“I’d be happy to enlighten you, Estella.”

A shiver darted down Stella’s back at her stepmother’s amused tone. She’d heard that note of suppressed glee enough times to be wary of it. She pressed closer to the wall, instinctively protecting her back. “Of course I know his name. He’s Mr. Ambrose, the Duke of Hawthorne’s gardener.”

“Is that what he told you?” Phillippa threw her head back in a laugh. “You poor child. How foolishly naïve you are. That gentleman is no more a gardener than I’m a coachman.”

Stella stood silently, waiting. Phillippa had always taken great pleasure in toying with her, just as a cat did with a mouse before it strikes the killing blow.

“That gentleman, Estella,” Phillippa announced with a triumphant sneer, “is none other than the Duke of Hawthorne himself.”

Stella froze, her mind going blank aside from the one word echoing in her head.

No. It couldn’t be true.

Mr. Ambrose—Gabriel—the Duke of Hawthorne? No. It was impossible.

Wasn’t it?

Yes, of course it was. If Mr. Ambrose were really the duke, every young lady attending this house party wouldn’t have given him a moment’s peace.

Unless they didn’t know, but that would mean Gabriel had lied to them all.

No. He would never do something so devious, so underhanded. Phillippa was just being cruel. “If Mr. Ambrose is the duke, who is the gentleman with the auburn hair who claims to be the Duke of Hawthorne?”

“He’s the duke’s valet, a man by the name of Walter Rowan. Rather gentlemanly, isn’t he? For a servant, that is. I suppose the duke must have asked him to engage in a bit of charades, and naturally this Rowan wouldn’t dare refuse the duke.”

“How?” Stella whispered. “How did you find out?”

“Oh, I have my ways, Estella. Servants are never as discreet as one might wish. A quick visit to the portrait gallery confirmed my suspicions. The previous dukes’ portraits are hanging in there, and none of them looks at all like Mr. Rowan.” Phillippa leaned closer, her eyes gleaming with malice. “But they all bear a striking resemblance to your Mr. Ambrose. If you don’t believe me, go and see for yourself.”

She didn’t need to see it for herself. Phillippa was far too satisfied for it to be otherwise.

Gabriel had lied to her. Not a small, harmless lie either, but an egregious, hurtful one, the sort of lie that broke a lady’s heart.

He must have been playing with her all along, from their first meeting in the conservatory the day she’d arrived at Hawthorne Castle. He’d taken one look at her, and he’d chosen to lie to her.

Dear God, she was going to be sick. She pressed a hand to her stomach as bile flooded her throat.

“I see I’ve shocked you. A pity, but you’ve no one to blame for this but yourself, Estella.” Phillippa tutted. “Such ridiculous credulity! It’s quite tragic, really.”

Stella hardly heard her. The dozens of questions tearing through her head drowned out everything else. Why would he play such a cruel trick on her? What could he hope to gain from it? She had nothing to give him, nothing to offer.

It didn’t make any sense.

“Tell me, Estella. Why do you suppose a duke would go to all the trouble to lie to an insignificant personage such as yourself? A lady’s maid, and a shabby one at that.” Phillippa’s gaze swept over her, an ugly sneer twisting her lips. “I can only think of one reason a duke would chase a servant.”

One reason. Stella pressed her fingers to lips still tender from Gabriel’s kisses.

There could be no mistaking Phillippa’s meaning.

“Alas, it’s a tale as old as time, and from what I saw in the garden just now, you’ve been happily obliging him since we arrived.”