The Duke's Deceit by Sherrill Bodine Page A

was forced to lean against the door to observe. Lottie appeared frightened to death and Mary … he wouldn’t allow himself to even guess at what was behind her façade. At last the doctor sensed some of the undercurrent.
    “Miss Masterton, I believe you’d best sit down while we explain why we’ve come.”
    “Cease treating the chit like a lady, McAlister.” Renfrew flicked the doctor a sneer. “Being peasant stock, she’ll be sturdy enough to bear up under the facts I’ve come to reveal. She’s been lying and cheating His Grace and now she’s been caught out!”
    An hour ago Richard would have planted the baron a facer, even if he was thirty years older and Mary’s grandfather to boot. Even now he had to resist the urge to go to her and draw her trembling body into his arms. His anger with her, however, was strong enough to stop him from taking more than two paces into the room.
    Lottie turned from where she stood at the lace-trimmed windows and cried out, “More visitors, Mary. No wait! It’s your uncle, and a fine lady with him!”
    The parlor doors were flung open. Ian escorted the Duchess of Avalon in, as naturally as if they were old friends.
    Identical chocolate eyes met and held. Although he fought to still his natural inclination, surely she could sense the wave of love he felt at seeing her.
    “Your Grace, what do you here?” Renfrew barked out. “Peabody told you I’d fetch your boy home.”
    “I could wait no longer to see my son.” She stared at him, her face so sad that it tore at his already battered insides. “Richard, I know you have lost your memory, but I want you to know I am your mother. You are the Duke of Avalon. And you are loved very much.”
    It was one of his greatest acts of self-control not to embrace her and breathe in her wonderful essence which recalled earlier and happier times.
    Richard saw a flicker of confusion on her face before she turned to Mary. “You must be Ian’s niece.”
    His mother’s kind voice seemed to soften the icy rigidity that Mary was locked in. A flicker of a smile brushed her nearly colorless lips as she executed a curtsy.
    “Dear child, I can’t thank you enough for your care of my son.” The duchess took Mary’s hand and raised her gracefully from the floor.
    “Madame, this baggage deserves none of your thanks. It is she who has kept him from you for so long!” Renfrew interrupted, striding forward, still refusing to acknowledge Mary in any way. “The gal’s deceitful, just like her mother. And as dishonest and lowborn as her father. She’s done her best to get her nasty claws into your son, but I’m here to stop her!”
    “
Sir, you are speaking of my intended bride
!”
    Richard hadn’t meant to defend her, but was driven by some feeling too intense to ignore. He threw an arm around Mary’s shoulder and pulled her to him. She shuddered once but didn’t attempt to free herself.
    Rage transformed the baron’s face into tight weasel-like lines.
    “McAlister told me what the stupid chit’s been about. Good God, boy, the gal’s done nothing but lie to you! You’re not engaged to this baggage. You’re engaged to Lady Arabella Hampton!”
    Mary stood as if an icy paralysis gripped her. At last she stared up at him with such raw pain on her face that for a moment he hesitated.
    “It’s true, Richard,” his mother added softly, her eyes studying his own. “Your memory loss has wiped it away, but what the baron states is true, dear heart.”
    “Your Grace! Baron Renfrew! I must interrupt!” Dr. McAlister sputtered. “Baron, I told you it could have a disastrous effect if you shocked this man’s fragile constitution. Indeed it could throw him back into a brain fever!”
    Always having had the constitution of an ox, Richard was hard-pressed to stop his lips from twitching into a rueful grin.
    Adjusting his glasses higher upon his nose, the doctor peered at him officiously. “Having any more headaches, Your Grace?”
    An