The Duke's Men [1] What the Duke Desires Read Free

Dom, Tristan.”
    Tristan let out a long breath. “Fine. But if George persists in his lies—”
    “You’ll go to France,” Maman said stoutly. “I have family in Toulon.” She turned a
     pleading glance on Dom. “If it comes to that, can you get him there?”
    “I can get him onto a fishing boat at Flamborough Head. He’ll have to make his way
     to the port at Hull on his own. Then he can use some of the money he got for the horse
     to buy passage to France.”
    “Fine,” Maman said. “He will do it.”
    “Now, see here, Mother—” Tristan began.
    “No!” she cried. “I will not lose you and your papa! Do not ask it of me!”
    Tristan gritted his teeth, then gave a terse nod.
    “Come,” she said, taking his arm, “we’ll pack your things for the journey.”
    “No time for that,” Dom bit out. “I can get his things to him tonight. But he’s got
     to go now ! George will be here any moment.”
    “Yes, go, Tristan!” Lisette urged, pushing him toward the back door. “Before George
     finds you.”
    Tristan paused at the end of the hall. “One thing you should know, Dom. Father also
     left money to you in that codicil that George burned. So if his actions go unpunished—”
    “I understand,” Dom said. “Now leave, damn you!”
    With a scowl, Tristan was gone.
    “I’d best gather up what he’ll need for the journey.” Maman disappeared down the hall,
     leaving Lisette alone with Dom.
    Dom took her hands. “I’m sorry, dear girl. About George, about Father . . . about
     all of it.”
    “It’s not your fault,” she mumbled. “We both know George does as he pleases, and as for Papa—”
    When tears fell again, he drew her into his arms to comfort her. She couldn’t believe
     Papa was dead. Just yesterday he’d given her a kiss and promised to take her riding
     sometime soon. So many promises, and now he could never fulfill them.
    Tears spilled down her cheeks, soaking into Dom’s fine blue coat as he murmured soft
     words of comfort. She wasn’t sure how long they stood that way, but it seemed like
     mere moments later when the noise of horses outside broke them apart. As she exchangedglances with Dom, a hard rap at the door made her jump.
    “We should fetch your mother to answer it,” Dom said in a low voice. “His seeing me
     here might tip our hand too soon.”
    “But the sight of Maman will infuriate George. Let me answer.”
    “Lisette—”
    “I can play dumb, and he might believe me. We have to stall him long enough to give
     Tristan time to get away.”
    Dom stared intently at her, then sighed and stepped back. “I’ll be right here if you
     need me.”
    Casting him a grateful smile, she opened the door.
    Then she froze, taken off guard by the mob George had brought with him. There was
     his nasty man of affairs, John Hucker, and two of the more brutish grooms, along with
     several villagers who disliked that “French bastard,” as Tristan was often called
     in town, all because he had the viscount’s favor.
    She fought not to react to this show of strength, reminding herself that George was
     still unaware that she knew about Papa. Or the Thoroughbred. “Good morning, my lord.
     What brings you here so early?”
    Though George possessed the sturdy build of a country laborer, his features and clothing
     and manner were pure aristocracy. He had the fine pale brow of a lord who rarely ventured
     into the sun, the perfectly tailored suit of a gentleman who never worried that work
     might muss his clothes, and the sheer arrogance of a viscount’s heir.
    Plenty of women would call him handsome, too, with his broad chest and wavy brown
     hair and the toothsome smile he bestowed on those females who met his exacting standards.
     But Lisette was immune. She knew the darkness lurking within that chest.
    Typical of him, he didn’t even bother to climb down from his favorite gelding. “Where
     is he?” he barked without preamble.
    “Who?” she barked back. If he