Page 2 of Her Beastly Duke
She stopped her agitated pacing and turned to her brother. Briar could feel his desperation and frustration. “Whom did you pass the Wellington … to?”Forgery, the unspoken word hung thick in the air.
Duncan paused, and a deep look of shame appeared in his eyes before he replied, “The Duke of Berkley.”
Briar’s hand flew to her chest, and she gasped. “The beastly duke!” she cried before she could stop herself.
“Yes.” Her brother scrubbed a hand over his face. “I am so foolish!”
Briar’s mind scrambled to think of a way they could extricate themselves from the debacle. What was Duncan thinking? How could he have sold a forgery to the duke? Everyone in Gloucester had heard about the beast. His vast landholdings and wealth did not protect him from the gossip. It was said the duke was a recluse who lived alone on Berkley Estate. He was badly disfigured, with a myriad of scars running from his hairline to his chin. He had such a dreadful appearance that he had takento hiding behind a mask. He did not attend social events and did not accept visitors.
The reason for his scars was even more titillating for thehaut ton, who never wasted the opportunity to tittle-tattle. Apparently, the beastly duke had been injured in a duel while on a trip to France during his youth. He was caught in a compromising position with a lady from the French court or something of the sort. The lady’s husband was obliged to call him out, and the duke accepted. Clearly, it had not gone well for the duke.
Of course, Briar herself had never laid eyes on him, and it was just as well. The thought of a gentleman being so disfigured that he resorted to wearing a mask made her uncomfortable. “How could you act so in regard to a man everyone calls the Beast of Berkley? Such a moniker should have informed you he is not a man to be deceived!”
Duncan tilted his head to the ceiling and pinched the bridge of his nose. “The gentleman is merely scarred, Briar. That hardly makes him a beast.”
Briar's brows shot up, and her voice raised in a pitch. “You haveseenhim?”
Duncan’s lips flattened, and he shook his head. “I have not. Why do you ask?”
“I merely wanted to know if he was as disfigured as they said. After all, he caused thehaut tonto descend into frenzied gossip and ladies to swoon and act quite uncomfortable in his presence. That is how he became known as a beast, Duncan.”
“I am less concerned with his looks and more with my predicament, which will soon beourpredicament if word gets out.”
“How did you hand over the forgery to the duke?”
“I dealt with his steward, and perhaps that is why I managed to get away with it. He was less astute and not as meticulous.”Duncan tipped his head to the side and whispered, “What have I gotten myself into? I knew within a few minutes I had made a mistake. I thought about going to the duke and apologizing, but… I do not think he would understand anything I explain.”
Briar did not immediately have an answer to Duncan's dilemma. An awful, sinking feeling swirled in the pit of her stomach. “When was the transaction?”
“Yesterday,” Duncan replied sheepishly.
Briar frowned, turning over an idea in her thoughts. “Well, if it was only yesterday and you dealt with his steward, the duke may not have seen the painting yet. We could simply retrieve it,” she said with more bravado than was sensible.
“Simply, you say. And how do you propose that we do that?” Duncan almost stuttered.
“I presume you did not go to Berkley Estate.”
“I did not, but the painting was delivered there.”
Briar nodded. “Good. We know where it is, and we will go there and fetch it.” Such nonchalance, as if one decided to break into the beastly duke’s home every dayand steal. She must have taken leave of her senses. But what else could they do?
There was a slight hesitation as Duncan pursed his lips in thought. “I do not see how this will work. We could hardly waltz onto the vast estate, locate the painting and waltz back out without being detected. Furthermore, what pretext would we use to gain admittance when the duke does not accept guests?”
“I take your point. He is ever the recluse.” Briar drummed her fingers against her palm and pondered for a moment. “If the duke does not accept guests, he would have instructed his staff to turn them away. But what if the guests were in a position where he could not possibly refuse to accommodate them? Let’s say they were stranded in the dead of night.”
The corner of Duncan’s mouth lifted. “Hmm. You may be on to something … Hang on.They? What do you mean they?” The smile had fallen away, and a piercing gaze replaced it.
A rather ridiculous question if Briar ever heard one. “You and me, of course.”
“I can see those wheels turning, Briar. What are you thinking?”
Briar tilted her head to the side. Briar knew she needed to reassure and convince him her plan would work. Duncan hated showing any sign of weakness, and she did not like to see him so wounded. “Well, we stand a better chance of getting admitted if we are together. I hardly think they would turn a lady of good breeding away in the dead of night. We will present ourselves as aristocrats, so being inhospitable would be very difficult. After all, we are of the same class and would extend such courtesies.”
Duncan nodded, but he did not look convinced.
Briar thought she knew what he was thinking. “You seem skeptical.”
“Why should they admit us? What reason would we give?” Duncan asked.
