"We'll talk when I get back, Mother." He followed Luke into the hallway and studied him as though only just then really looking at him. "It truly is you. I think I knew, I think I always knew."

"I didn't," Luke admitted.

"I'll speak with Mother. She'll come around."

"I appreciate it. It's been a difficult few years. I'd like to put all the difficulties behind us."

Marcus licked his lips, darted his gaze around the hallway as though he expected danger to be lurking about. "That's what I wanted to talk with you about. You said you were attacked one night."

"Yes."

"It was Avendale's doing."

Luke knew that, but how had Marcus known? Luke stared at him, suspicion creeping in. "Avendale? What would make you think that?"

"Apparently, he's lost a good deal of money to you. He's in financial straits and he's quite angry about it."

"And how do you know all this?"

"Because he approached me and told me that he would help me regain my t.i.tle if I promised to pay him what you'd stolen from him once I inherited."

"Help you regain it by having me murdered?"

"I didn't know that was part of his plan. I told him that I wanted to do it legally through the courts. I thought he understood, but I learned too late that he is quite the madman."

"And you didn't think I needed to know this when I came before?"

"I was ashamed that I'd become involved with him. And quite honestly, I was terrified. He indicated that he'd killed before, and I have little doubt he spoke the truth."

"I appreciate your honesty."

"For what it's worth, I always thought you were a decent chap-well, except for killing my father, of course."

"He brutally raped a twelve-year-old girl. That's the reason I killed him. And while until recently, I had no memory of my parents' murder, maybe a part of me did recognize him-for I hesitated not at all in delivering what I considered justice."

"You can't always tell from looking at a person what he's really like."

Luke placed his hand on Marcus's shoulder. "I don't think you're like your father."

"Thank you for that. I'd best get back to Mother. While it's not obvious, I suspect she's taken all of this news rather hard."

After watching his cousin disappear into the drawing room, Luke turned his thoughts to the problem of Avendale. He was going to take a great deal of pleasure in dispensing with the fellow.

Chapter 21.

Midnight.

My library.

L The missive went out to three of them. There was a time when it would have gone to four.

They slipped into Luke's library as quiet as the night, coming into the residence through their various preferred entrances. Bill entered through the kitchen. Jim climbed a tree and came in through a bedchamber window. Frannie preferred slipping in through a door that led off of the terrace.

Catherine was there. She'd come in through the front door as though she no longer had a need to hide what they were doing. But Luke knew the truth of it. What they were about to do they would have to carry with them to the grave.

They all sat in chairs in a circle.

"Let's begin," Luke said.

"Shouldn't we wait for Jack?" Bill asked.

"He's not invited."

Bill looked at the others, as though he expected someone to object, to defend Jack, and when no one did, he settled back. He was the healer among them. He always wanted to fix things, make them right. But some things, once broken, would never be the same.

"As you're aware, I set up an opportunity to confront Avendale at Heatherwood. Presently, he is my prisoner, being kept in the manor's cellar. The man is a danger. To his wife, his son, Catherine, and me. If it were only me, I'd let it go and deal with him one on one, but I'm not willing to risk the others." He especially wasn't willing to risk Catherine.

"So what's the plan?" Jim asked.

"If any of you have doubts, you should walk out now."

They all stayed seated.

Luke felt the tightening in his chest, cleared his throat at the demonstration of their faith in him. Apparently Jim wasn't the only one who would follow him into h.e.l.l without asking why they were taking the journey. "Thank you for that."

Taking a deep breath, he gave his attention to Bill. "We need a body. A man, recently buried, would no doubt be best. We'll want him dressed in these items, as well as the two rings. I've included a note that tells which ring goes on which finger on which hand." Luke took a bundle from where it rested beside his chair and extended it to Bill. He'd taken Avendale's clothing and jewelry before leaving Heatherwood.

Bill took the parcel without hesitating. "It's been a long while since I've done any grave robbing, but it's a skill once learned, never forgotten."

"After he's dressed, we'll want him burned beyond recognition."

Bill nodded. "I'll see to it."

"Take comfort in the fact that his final resting place will be very grand indeed." Luke turned to Jim. "I'm looking for someone being transported to a penal colony for life. Age doesn't matter, as long as the doc.u.ments can be changed to reflect a man of thirty-four."

Jim nodded somberly. "A boy of fourteen was recently sentenced to transportation to Tasmania. I believe it was for life, for picking pockets."

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, that could have been any of us," Bill said. "Whose pockets did he pick? Prince Albert's?"

"That was my thought-but for the teachings of Feagan, there go I." Jim looked at Frannie. "Can you make a fourteen look like a thirty-four?"

She grinned c.o.c.kily. "In my sleep."

"I'll get his papers to you."

"We'll also want to arrange respectable employment for the lad," Luke told her.

She gave him an odd look before nodding. Probably because that would have been Jack's job, to see that the lad was placed somewhere safe.

"I'll take care of it," Frannie said.

Luke looked at Catherine, sitting beside him. He wanted to take her hand, but it seemed wrong with Frannie sitting there. "Now then, here's the hard part."

Taking a deep breath, she nodded. "Whatever it is, I'll do it."

"I never questioned for a moment that you wouldn't." Still, he knew it would be difficult for her. He sighed. "You need to inform the d.u.c.h.ess of Avendale that her husband died in the fire at Heatherwood, a fire that was started when an ember jumped out of the fireplace un.o.bserved, until it was too late."

"But that's not what happened."

"Which is why I said yours is the hardest part. You're going to have to lie to her, Catherine, to everyone. Once we've all seen to our tasks, it'll be as though what you told her is the truth. We'll present her with an unrecognizable burned body wearing Avendale's clothes and rings. And she will never see him again."

"I don't understand why I can't tell her the truth."

"Because the fewer who know, the better. Laws are being broken here, Catherine. We're all at risk. And while it's possible she could hold her tongue on this matter, he was her husband. With distance and time, she may forget what marriage to him was like or she may decide she prefers marriage to a beast over widowhood. She may try to find a way to bring him back. It would have been easier all the way around if I'd left him in the fire, but I didn't, so we must make the best of it and leave no doubt that the Duke of Avendale is dead so his son might inherit."

"But shouldn't we at least let them know how the fire really got started? The things he said, the things he did-"

"His son will live with the legacy of his father's actions, Catherine. It will be easier not knowing the kind of man he was. If you doubt me, ask my cousin."

Nodding, she tipped up her chin, showing her resolve. "I shall do better than speak with Winnie and Whit. I shall help them arrange the funeral." She looked at Bill. "And it shall be very grand indeed."

"Very good." Luke looked around the circle. "Are there any questions?"

"I have one," Catherine said.

Luke arched his brow.

"What task is left to you?"

"The best one of all. I have the honor of arranging Avendale's delivery to the ship for transportation to his new life on the far side of the world."

Catherine insisted on going with him. Luke had known she would.

The fog was thick and heavy, chilling the bones. The great ship creaked and moaned against its moorings, as though she were anxious to be off, but she had to wait for her guests to finish shuffling aboard, their leg irons clanking in the pre-dawn stillness.

"How did the d.u.c.h.ess take the news of her husband's demise?" Luke asked.

"She actually wept. I'd not expected that." She peered up at him. "You don't seem surprised."

He shook his head. "People fear loneliness. They prefer living with an unpleasant person to living alone."

"I don't know if this is enough. It seems as though he got off rather easily, after all he's done."

"He's a man accustomed to someone tying his neckcloth for him. He'll be down on his knees scrubbing the deck. His hands will blister, his feet will toughen, and I suspect before the journey is done, he'll find himself flogged on more than one occasion. I don't know if there is h.e.l.l after death, but I do know there is h.e.l.l in life. I have waited in its antechamber. It is not a pleasant place. Avendale will rue the day he was born. He will be punished, Catherine. Every day, for as long as he lives.

"Although he's actually managed to do a bit of good with his life, switching places as he has with Thomas Lark, giving the lad an opportunity for a better future."

"One lad. It seems so little when there are so many."

"We can't save them all, Catherine, so we take satisfaction in saving those we can."

They watched the two hundred and thirty prisoners march up the gangplank and onto the deck of the ship.

"There he is," Luke said quietly. "The one in the gray coat, with the shoulder so badly torn."

"I thought he'd resist more."

"Bill gave me something to pour down his throat to make him as gentle as a lamb."

"Still, I'm surprised he's not yelling out his name and rank."

"Bit difficult to do with a broken jaw."

She snapped her head around to look at him. He shrugged. "He wasn't being cooperative."

They stayed until the last prisoner took his place aboard the ship, until the ship set sail.

Luke heard Catherine breathe a sigh of relief. "I can't believe it's over."

"Believe it."

Dawn was just beyond the horizon when Claybourne's coach pulled to a stop in the alley behind Catherine's residence.

Claybourne. She didn't think he'd yet grown comfortable with the realization of who he was, but she had no doubt that he would in time. He was the proper earl. She wished she could help him, rea.s.sure him, stand by his side as he truly took his place among the aristocracy, but she wasn't the one he wanted at his side. She knew that. Had accepted it before she ever entered his bedchamber at Heatherwood.

They'd talked of nothing personal since the night of his revelation. That, too, was how it should be.

The coach door opened. Claybourne climbed out, then extended his hand to her.

For the last time, she placed her hand in his, felt his strong fingers close over hers. For the last time, she stepped out, inhaling the masculine scent that was his alone. For the last time they walked side by side to the gate, speaking not a word, as though too much remained to be said and so little time remained to say it.

She cleared her throat. "I'll arrange a tea for Frannie, begin introducing her into society."

He nodded. She swallowed. "So we're in agreement there'll be no more evening lessons."

He nodded. She extended her hand. "Then, thank you, my lord. Our arrangement has been...gratifying-"

Grabbing her hand, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, almost savagely, as though this moment was as painful for him as it was for her. Of their own accord, her arms wound around his neck. She didn't want to let him go. She didn't want another woman in his bed, in his life, in his heart.

She almost told him that she'd do anything, anything he wanted if he'd only choose her, but she loved him too much not to grant him the fulfillment of his dreams-and Frannie, not Catherine, was part of those dreams.