Page 34 of The Duke's Mysterious Lover
Kit had been watching Thorne at this announcement, and thus didn’t miss the way the blond man’s expression lit up at the casual way the other man announced himself as Thorne’s cousin.
Not for the first time, she wondered at his lack of family. He appeared to hold dear the few he did have. This duke of hers had a large heart, she was coming to learn, and was quite sentimental, although he did his best to hide it.
But now Thorne had come around from behind his desk and offered the newcomer his hand. “Ye’ve disappeared the last evenings. I thought ye’d visited yer auld haunts.”
“I did,” his cousin growled. “I heard ye hinting about that opera ye wanted to attend, and opted to make myself scarce. Besides, I had to check on some auld…clients.”
Chuckling, Thorne dropped his hand and turned to include the younger man. “I found someone whoenjoysmusic, thank God. Fawkes, this is Bull Lindsay, Peasgoode’s stepson and Exingham’s younger brother.”
“Bastard brother,” Bull corrected cheerfully, offering his hand.
But Thorne grabbed his wrist before Fawkes could shake the lad’s hand, and said over his shoulder to Fawkes, “Dinnae let him near ye if ye value yer wallet, watch, or anything in yer pockets.”
“Thorne, I’mhurt.” With a clearly faux pout, the youngerman sank back into his chair. “I dinnae do that sort of thing anymore. To anyone but ye.” With that, he flourished the two cigars he’d light-fingered from Thorne’s stash toward his host’s cousin. “Cigar?”
Thorne snorted. “Bull, this is Fawkes MacMillan, who owns Hangcok Hill near Stroken. His father was my uncle, the old duke.”
“Also a bastard?” Bull exclaimed happily.
“Also the Duke of Death,” Thorne continued, as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “The poisoner who unwillingly did Blackrose’s dirty work for him all those years.”
It was almost comical, the way Bull’s face drained of color at that announcement.
Perhaps Kit made a noise, because Thorne’s gaze darted to her, then to his cousin, who was scowling at him.
Fawkes’s glare was impressive. “Ye’re just announcing it to everyone now?”
“Bull is a nosy little arse who’d find out anyhow.”
“And yermusician?”Fawkes scowled.
“Och, aye.” Thorne waved at her. “Fawkes, this is Kit Pastorino, my valet. Kit, Fawkes. Fawkes, Bull. Bull, Kit; Kit, Bull. Bull, Fawkes,Jesusye’reallnamed after animals.”
“Akitis a babyfox,” Bull offered cheekily, clearly recovered. “Ye even look alike, with that auburn hair.”
Shaking his head, Fawkes plopped himself in the opposite chair without looking back at Kit again. “Too pretty. He looks more like Ellie than me. So why’d ye call me?”
“Ye invitedhim, but no’ me?” Bull pretended outrage, then sniffed haughtily. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to thank myself for my remarkable timing at inviting myself.”
This time, Kitdidsnort, hiding her laughter. And Bull turned in his seat just far enough to send a wink her way.
Thorne, meanwhile, had leaned his hip against the desk. “Fawkes and Danielle had the idea to use the code in the paper to set a trap for Blackrose.”
This was all too much—was this the danger Thorne had spoken of? Who was Blackrose, and why would Thorne want to trap him?
Bull, who was making a show of pulling out a penknife to prepare the cigar, hummed. “Aye, that’s the plan. But what specifically?”
“We tell Blackrose his brother had an agent, someone who kens the code. Look, Thorne,” Fawkes barked, glaring at the blond man, “can we really trust them?”
Thorne held his gaze. “Aye,” he said quietly. “I trust Bull with my life. Ye can too.”
The auburn-haired man turned in his chair to glare at Kit, who held his gaze, making sure her expression gave nothing away. “And yervalet?”
“I’ve given Kit nae details, but I…I trust him.”
I trust him.
It was humbling, considering she’d known this man for such a short time, and then only as his employee. It was also a good reminder who he thought she was.Whathe thought she was.
