Page 64 of The Duke's Only Desire

Shay clenched his jaw. Pearson would think he did it in anger, when what he wanted was simply to keep any expressionof hope from his face. “He attended university at St Andrews.” He gestured in the general direction of north. “He didn’t study so much as use it as an excuse to be away from Ravenscroft Manor so he could gamble and drink.”

“Among other things,” Pearson muttered. “I can ride north on your behalf, meet the priest, see the boy—”

“No. I have to do it myself. I’ll take my saddle horse. I don’t want to be slowed down by a coach.”

Pearson nodded. “I’ll come with you.”

Shay shook his head and glanced toward the window and the gardens beyond. “I need you to remain here and protect the duchess.” He nearly tripped over the word. If the letter proved true, Sophie wouldn’t be that any longer. How would she take that news? He didn’t dare let himself believe she might be as happy as he if John’s marriage proved true. “Have Simmons come with me. He’s the best rider of all the grooms.” Shay tossed the letter onto the desk. “Make ready. I want to leave in the morning at first light.”

“Yes, sir.” Pearson nodded and hurried from the study.

Sweet Lucifer.Shay leaned heavily against the desk, his head sagging between his shoulders, and grimaced.

A son—alegitimateson—by a woman respectable enough that she wouldn’t have lain with John before they were married. That was the only reason he would have married her instead of simply seducing her or paying for her pleasures. If the priest’s letter could be believed, then the marriage was lawfully recorded, the boy not a bastard…

The boy who was the rightful Duke of Malvern.

He shoved away from the desk and helped himself to a generous pour of whisky. As he stood in front of the tall window and lifted the glass to his lips, he stared out across the Malvern lands that extended all the way to the hills in the distance and then some. He’d learned as a boy that there was no placeanywhere on the estate where he could stand and see all its holdings, not even from the top of the tallest hill. Even now he could remember the chill of awe that realization had spread through him, followed immediately by relief that it would never be his.

Perhaps that was the first time fate had laughed at him.

And perhaps that letter could finally be his opportunity to atone for John’s death, the fire…for wanting Sophie for himself.

He would gladly hand over the dukedom and unburden himself of the unbearable weight of it. Once the boy was settled here with his guardians and the title properly passed, Shay could go back to being a soldier again. He could easily buy back into a colonel’s commission, perhaps even into a generalship if he called in enough favors. Combining that pay with the small allowance he should have had under his father’s will would be been enough to provide a good life for him and Sophie. Oh, they would never live in grand houses like Ravenscroft Manor or Malvern House in London, but they would still be more than comfortable. And utterly happy, with no more ghosts from the past to haunt them.

“There you are,” a soft voice called out from the doorway.

He turned away from the window to face her.Sophie.Dear God, she was lovely, even in a plain wool day dress and shawl wrapped around her shoulders against the cold. At moments like this, he simply could not believe she was his wife.

She leaned her shoulder against the doorframe, a posture that seemed to fill the room with her presence even though she’d yet to step inside.

“I thought perhaps you might need a nap after dealing with whatever matter Pearson brought to you,” she teased. Then the amusement faded from her face, and she asked somberly, “Is it terribly bad news?”

In answer, he silently held out the glass of whisky toward her.

Stiffening, she pushed herself away from the door and crossed the room to him. Instead of drinking the whisky, she topped off his glass and handed it back, instinctively knowing he needed a long drink.

“There’s been a message from Scotland.” He nodded toward the letter in permission for her to read it.

With a puzzled frown, she picked it up. He saw the moment when she realized what it said, when her lips parted in shock and her hands began to shake.

Her stunned eyes met his. “Can this be true?”

Dear God, he hoped so. “It’s possible. The timing matches John’s university studies at St Andrews.”

“Then we have to travel north, to find out if the boy really is John’s.” She stared up at him with pleading eyes. “We have to help him.”

Shay’s mouth twisted at that. They had to help him? If it were true, the boy’s very existence would helpthem. “I’ve made plans to leave in the morning. The proof will be in the church marriage register. I need to see it—and the boy—with my own eyes.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“No.” He apologetically brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “The roads will be impassible for a coach, the weather too cold… I won’t put you at risk if the coach becomes stuck in the snow or mud, or if a storm blows up.” Her mouth hardened. He knew she was about to argue with him, so he added, “I could never forgive myself if anything happened to you when I could have prevented it.”

From the way her expression softened, she understood. “Then send Pearson in your place.”

“He offered, but I have to go myself. You know what it means if this message is true.” He took the letter from her hand and tucked it inside his waistcoat. “Everything about our life changes.”

She nodded, but he couldn’t tell if she was as happy about the possibility as he was.