The Duke's Deceit by Sherrill Bodine

Lord!” she breathed, tears pearling her thick lashes. “Richard, are you hurt?”
    “No.” He drawled the single word as evenly as he could against the biting teeth of rage that were gnawing his guts to shreds.
    Curling up in one fluid motion, he towered over her and looked around him with eyes that were aware for the first time. “I’m fine,” he added softly, studying her fawn eyes for answers.
    What a wonderful actress she was! He’d had snares set for him by the most cunning women of the
ton
, and the ladies of the demimonde were forever at his heels, but never had any of them demonstrated such skill.
    When had she realized what a plum had dropped into her lap?
    For the first time in this charade she played, she reached out to touch his cheek, her eyes wide and deep navy with fear. “Are you sure you’re all right? You … you look different somehow.”
    The touch of her gentle fingers fed the flames of his anger. Holding her gaze, he brought his hand to her throat, somehow resisting the urge to press against it and demand the truth. Why had she lied to him?
    If Lottie hadn’t rushed through the stable doors at just that moment, he was certain that his rage would have overcome his natural curiosity. As it was, he decided to play the game a little longer.
    “Mary, Dr. McAlister and another gentleman have just arrived!”
    Lottie’s face was a study in color contrasts—her round green eyes were bright as emerald chips, the plump cheeks apple red, but there was a white line around her usually merry mouth.
    “Who is it, Lottie?” Mary asked.
    “The stranger looks like that miniature your mother left you.”
    “It can’t be!” Mary’s voice quivered like a guttering candle.
    Richard was amazed at the reaction of the two women. They had faced the fire and resulting work with less apprehension. He strode to the stable door and stared out at the doctor and a rotund gentleman, certainly no one to inspire such fear.
    “Who is he?” Richard demanded in what he now knew was his normal disdainful tone.
    Mary peeked around the corner, then looked up at him, her wide-set eyes nearly opaque. “I believe it’s my maternal grandfather, Baron Renfrew.”
    Exercising extreme effort, Richard kept his face muscles set. He’d never met the old baron, but he’d heard enough tales of his avaricious nature to see a setup. What a charming family trap he’d blundered into!
    “Where’s your familial feeling, Mary? Shouldn’t you be rushing to greet him?”
    She stepped back as if slapped by the thread of viciousness in his voice that he couldn’t quite mask.
    “I doubt he wishes my greeting, Richard.” Her voice rose as it always did when she wished to be precise, although this time it was laced with trepidation. “I have no idea why he is here now. He’s never before even acknowledged my existence.”
    There was more to this than met the eye, Richard reasoned. And with his wits about him, he was a match for any man. He strolled indolently behind Lottie, who hovered protectively beside Mary.
    Two could play at charades!
    At their approach, Dr. McAlister nodded his head vigorously. “Here they are, Baron. Good day, Miss Masterton.”
    “Good day, Dr. McAlister,” she said evenly, her eyes riveted to her grandfather’s scarlet face. “To what do I owe this honor?”
    “What abominable manners!” the baron roared at a space somewhere over Mary’s right shoulder.
    He wouldn’t look directly at her, Richard noticed, becoming further intrigued.
    “Won’t be questioned like a lackey on the front stoop. Why don’t the stupid gal show us into the parlor?”
    Richard could almost see Mary’s heart stop beating as she stood in silent shame.
    “By all means let us adjourn to the parlor,
gentlemen
.”
    His stress on the last word brought Renfrew’s gaze to his face for an instant before the baron turned to follow Lottie into the cottage.
    With Baron Renfrew taking a wide-spread stance at the fireplace, Richard