Page 11 of How to Capture a Duke

Antonia turned from Olivia to arch a brow at him. “I see.”

“Please tell her,” Olivia addressed him, her eyes imploring. “They think I stole Lady Samantha’s diamond necklace because it was found in my belongings, but I could not have because I was out riding. With you.”

Before he could answer, another woman entered the stables. She was older, but the resemblance to Olivia was unmistakable. By the disapproval stamped on the lady’s stern face, he guessed it was Olivia’s mother.

“See, Mother,” Olivia said, a tinge of panic in her tone, “I was telling the truth. Just ask the head groom.” Olivia turned back to him.

With startling clarity, Tristan understood. He was Olivia’s alibi for a stolen jewel. Heart thundering, he took in the trio of women standing expectantly before him. Olivia’s panicked expression. Her mother’s relief that her daughter wasn’t a thief yet censure that she was riding rather than encouraging the eligible bachelors in attendance. His grandmother’s cunning behind her shrewd gaze.

He understood only too well. Lady Olivia and her mother had no idea of his true identity.

Antonia, on the other hand, posed a problem.

Olivia watched him. “Kindly tell them that you took me riding this morning.”

He stayed silent as he contemplated the unexpected turn of events. He could do one of two things. One, deny that they had been alone together and have Olivia take the blame for a theft that she did not commit. His grandmother would be forced to give her the cut direct at a ball or at Almack’s, and young Olivia would be ostracized by the ton.

Or two, he could admit the truth that he had indeed spent a morning unchaperoned riding with her. It wouldn’t matter that it was under the guise of him acting as the head groom. He was the duke, and scandal would ensue.

If he told the truth, he would have to do the honorable thing. And he knew what that meant.

God, no.

He never wanted to marry. He’d been dead set against it and had already decided his cousin would inherit the dukedom.

His mind scrambled. There had to be another way out, an escape. He could admit to riding with Olivia, admit to his true position, and still refuse to marry the girl. Scandal would ruin Lady Olivia, destroy her chances of marriage and taint his reputation, but he cared naught what they thought of him. He was a duke, one step below royalty, and along with the power of the position, he knew he would continue to be accepted by the beau monde. He would still be viewed as a favorable match to all the eager mamas when it came to their unmarried daughters.

But Antonia would be devastated. She was the one constant in his life. His mother may have abandoned her imperfect son, but his grandmother had stayed by his side, and he would do everything he could to protect her.

Olivia continued to stare at him, waiting. “Tell them. Please.”

It was the plea in her voice that made him speak. The words left his lips without thought to his own position. It was never much of a choice.

“S…s-he was r…r-id…she was with me.”

Antonia’s gasp reverberated in his head, sounding as good as a hangman’s noose around his neck.

His gaze met Olivia’s. Her relief was palpable.

“You are admitting to being alone with the lady?” Antonia asked.

He answered with a terse nod of his head.

Antonia pursed her lips then faced Olivia’s mother. “It is decided then. My grandson will act honorably.”

“Your grandson?” Olivia’s mother’s voice rose an octave.

“That is correct. I have the pleasure of introducing you to His Grace, my grandson, the fourth Duke of Keswick.”

“Your Grace.” Olivia’s mother swiftly curtsied.

“Despite using his father’s name Caleb, his Christian name is Tristan,” the dowager said.

Tristan’s gaze returned to Lady Olivia’s. Her complexion was as pale as old parchment. Her green eyes traveled from his to his grandmother’s then back to his. She looked like a bird flown into a stone wall. She didn’t know.

Or did she?

A nagging coiled deep in his stomach. He was cynical by nature. Distrustful. Years of isolation had taught him to protect himself. Now, after all this time, had he been fooled at his own game? Had she devised the entire scenario to ensure the ultimate prize: a duke?