Page 92 of The Duke of Deceit

Jess sat back on her hip and smiled as she watched Phillip oh-so-slowly carry the little mold to the thick patch of snow, then nestled it into the fluffy white layer next to the strawberry ice.

Since the wedding, life had been a whirlwind for all of them. Jess had finished her drawings for Sir Percival’s book to much acclaim—for him—which grated more than she wanted to admit. But she’d started a new book with a different Royal Society botanist who insisted on sharing credit with her. She had also sold two paintings and had even become a probationary member of the Society of Painters in Oil and Watercolours, who had welcomed her into their fold when the Royal Academy of Arts snubbed her. Oh, she wasn’t daft enough to think that being Duchess of Crewe had nothing to do with her newfound recognition, but she also knew her art was good. Eventually, she’d be recognized for it on her own merits.

Amanda had her baby—a fat, healthy boy named William who looked exactly like his father. Lucien and Jess were asked to be his godparents, and she had never seen Lucien look so proud as he did during the baptism. Aunt Matilda was absolutely thrilled to have a baby to cuddle and spoil, so she lived in the townhouse with them, along with Simms the butler, who was enamored of William and turned into a protective bulldog in looking after the baby.

But their married days had not been without struggle.

Convincing society that Lucien was good had been harder than she had anticipated. Thetonwas willing to believe in the myth of the reformed rake, apparently—for everyone but him.Not that Jess truly cared what anyone thought, except that the threat to the dukedom still hung over their heads.

The Crown and Parliament were taking far too long to come to a decision regarding his petition, dragging their feet, it seemed, until the start of the new session when all the lords could return to London and take joy in criticizing him. The worst had been the committee’s insistence on meeting Phillip for themselves. Phillip did them proud, answering all the lords’ questions and being far more patient with them than they were with him, but his frustration eventually got the better of him. Bored with the meeting and unable to concentrate on anything but the fancy draperies and furnishings in the grand committee room, he’d become aggravated with their pestering questions and had an outburst. Lucien and Jess had managed to calm him, but the meeting had come to an abrupt end.

That was the last anyone from the Committee for Privileges or the Court of St James’s had bothered to contact them. Until today. When Lucien had been ordered back to Westminster.

She had no idea what the latest news would be. All the strawberry ices in the world might not be able to help if it wasn’t good.

Phillip returned and plopped down beside her on the blanket. He asked in his characteristically slurred speech, “How long before the ices are ready?”

“Not until dinner, so you’ll have to be patient.” She squeezed his hand. “In the meantime, why don’t we take a walk down to the pasture to see how the cows and sheep are doing in the snow? We can take apples to feed them.”

Visibly excited at the idea, Phillip scrambled to his feet. With a grin that reminded her of Lucien, he helped her to stand.

Just as she brushed her hands down her coat to straighten it, the sound of approaching horse hooves broke the stillness of the cold day. She turned to watch Lucien ride up the snow-dusted lane from the main road, and her heart began to pound, although the foolish thing didn’t know whether to feel happiness or dread at his impending news.

“Lucien!” Phillip called out, excited at his brother’s return.

He reined the horse to a stop beside them, then swung to the ground and tossed the reins to Phillip. “Take him into the barn and unsaddle him, will you, please?” His gaze darted to Jess. “I’ll be along in a few minutes to help.”

Phillip beamed at being given this responsibility. As he led the horse away, he started talking to the gelding about brushes, apples, and blankets, and the horse flicked his ears back and forth as if he understood every word.

Lucien leaned down to place a kiss to Jess’s temple. She could feel the fatigue in him, along with a sense of relief, and she knew they’d finally been given an answer to his petition.

She braced herself. “What happened in London?”

“I met with Lord Trenmear and a representative from the palace. The Crown has agreed to the special remainder and plans on putting forward the act in Parliament next week when it convenes.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.

“With stipulations,” he added solemnly.

Unease washed through her. Slowly, she pulled back and searched his face. “What are they?”

He glanced over her shoulder at the barn. Phillip was out of hearing range. “Apparently, Parliament doesn’t like the idea of the Crown passing over anyone in line for a title, fearing the same might happen to them. Can’t say I blame them. If incompetence were all it took to rescind a title, half the lords would be in trouble.”

She tensed. She’d long ago learned that he joked whenever he had to impart grim news. “What does that mean for our family?”

“Phillip will be recognized as the true Duke of Crewe, in what will essentially be a life peerage, while I will be relegated to being the heir. The remainder will stipulate that upon Phillip’s death the dukedom will pass to me and my male heirs of the body, bypassing any heirs Phillip might have should he marry.”

Her brow furrowed. “But Phillip will never marry.”

“The Crown and committee were worried that, as England’s newest duke, he might be trapped into marriage by some scheming woman who might upend the presumptive order of inheritance. This protects the dukedom from that.”

“But you won’t be a duke anymore,” she whispered.

“Not until Phillip dies, so hopefully not for a very long time.” He brushed his knuckles across her cheek at the sympathetic gaze she gave him. “This is how it should be. It was never truly mine to begin with.”

She rested her hand on his arm. It wasn’t jealousy or anger she felt in him, but relief.

“Surrendering the title to Phillip is my punishment for not telling the committee as soon as I learned of Phillip’s existence,” he continued. “But they also realize that Phillip can’t carry out a duke’s duties, so they have amended the letters patent for the title but excluded the writ of summons for sitting in Parliament. Representing the dukedom in Parliament will still fall to me, as well as overseeing the dukedom. I’ll continue to be a duke in everything but name.” He paused. “But it punishes you, as well. You’re no longer a duchess.”