Page 62 of The Duke of Deceit

Another nod. Another lie.

Amanda gave her a quick hug, then followed after Simms.

Jess stood unmoving, listening to Amanda’s footsteps as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom on the first floor…and to the brutal thumping of her own heart. Now alone, she let a single tear slip free.

She felt broken, except,oh God, how much it hurt! Not broken.Shattered.And there was only one way to glue herself back together.

Stripping off her paint apron and tossing it aside, she snatched up her reticule and wrap, then silently left the house.

*

The door ofBrixton House opened, and the butler cast a curious glance at Jess. “Yes, my lady?”

But Jess gave back the same curious look. He wasn’t like any butler she’d ever seen before. Oh, he was smartly uniformed, certainly, and had forsaken the powdered white wigs that so many employers still insisted their butlers and footmen wear in favor of the new fashion of clipped hair. But it was how he filledout that uniform that made her stare. Towering and broad, he had the musculature of an ox.Goodness.

She pulled in a breath and her courage. “I need to see His Grace the Duke of Crewe.”

That drew another curious glance over her, this one clearly noting that she was young, female, and alone, yet calling on a notorious rake. “My apologies, Miss, but His Grace is not accepting visitors.”

“It’s important.” She needed to see Lucien, explain everything, beg his forgiveness…and in that, somehow, salvage any pieces that were still left of her shattered heart. And her pride. “Please. It won’t take long.”

“I’m sorry, but His Grace is not at home.”

“I can wait.”

“He’s not expected back for several days. If you would like to—”

“Where has he gone?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

“Please. I need to speak with him.”

“Miss.” His eyes softened with sympathy. “I understand you’re upset. But revealing His Grace’s location would only get me sacked, which I hope would upset you even more, and I couldn’t bear it if I caused you additional distress.”

Her shoulders slumped, and she mumbled, “I understand.”

The mountain of a man in front of her seemed relieved, if not surprised that she wanted to know his employer’s whereabouts. Given Lucien’s rakish reputation, having an upset female appear at his door with demands to see to him must have been a common occurrence. Or maybe not, if the good side of him could be believed. Oh, she simply had no idea what to think about him!

But she knew she had to see him. Right away. She would track him down at White’s if she had to, or chase him all the way to his country estate, wherever it was, or even go so far as—

“Ealing!”

The butler’s back snapped straight, and his eyes flared. “Miss?”

She remembered the little farm in Ealing that the investigator had told her about, how Lucien received messages from there, and how he was known to sneak away there. “His Grace owns a farm in Ealing. Is that where he is?”

The butler’s mouth fell open, then snapped shut. He didn’t answer, but from his reaction, Jess knew that was exactly where Lucien had gone.

She pressed, “What is in Ealing that is so important to him?” She searched the butler’s face, hoping he’d take pity on her and answer, but he stayed resolute in his silence. “Don’t think for one moment that I believe he only goes there for the races.”

The tips of the man’s ears turned red. “I—I cannot…that is, I am not at liberty…”

A terrible thought struck her. “Does he keep a mistress there?” She lowered her voice, not for secrecy but because it would have broken if she dared to speak any louder. “Or a secret wife?”

With that, his entire face turned beet red. “Good day, miss.”

He stepped inside and closed the door in her face.