The Art of Stealing a Duke’s Heart by Ellie St. Clair

Chapter 21

Jonathan hadn’t been planning another country trip so soon, but when his mother had requested to see the grandchildren, he had actually decided that perhaps now was as good a time as any to get out of the city. He had enjoyed himself last time, as had the children and Calli.

Calli.

He let out a breath as he stared out his study window and into the night sky. What was he to do with her? He had thought she was everything he had ever wanted, and yet… there was something that was not quite right. Meeting her family had not satisfied him, had instead only raised more questions. Her brother had been less than reassuring, continually challenging him and obviously contemptuous of his title. Which was not at all Jonathan’s fault.

He whirled around when he heard a noise at the door to find Calli standing just within.

“Jonathan?” she asked, and he motioned her to take a step inside.

“You are awake late once again.”

“I know,” she said, her gaze flickering past him to the painting that hung on the wall, the one she had been so enamoured with she had apparently been compelled to paint it herself.

“I’m sorry about my brother,” she said, wringing her hands together. “Arie can be… difficult.”

Jonathan grunted. “I am still somewhat perplexed as to what brought you to work for me, or how, quite frankly, you first became a governess with your background. Most are from families with much more prestige.”

“I know. I…” her eyes flickered around the room before finally landing on him. “That was actually a bit of an accident.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, all of his senses suddenly on alert.

“I’m not… I’m not Miss Donahue.”

Jonathan’s entire body went rigid, the words forming on his tongue of their own accord.

“What are you talking about?”

“I was always here… to see this painting. I had heard of it, and wanted the opportunity to try my hand at it. So I came into your study to see it, and the children were here. You mistook me for the governess, and it sounded like an excellent opportunity, so I went along with it.”

Jonathan noted her shaking hands, her pleading eyes, but he couldn’t get over the words that had just tumbled from her mouth.

“So this… you… it’s all a lie?”

No, it couldn’t be. She was fabricating this, now. But why?

“Not entirely,” she said, her eyes looking up at him soulfully, but the more she spoke, the more Jonathan’s resolve hardened. “I did want to be a governess to Mary and Matthew. I enjoy being their governess. I appreciate the position in your household. But since we have become…”

“Lovers.”

Her eyes flared at the word.

“Yes. I needed to tell you the truth.”

“And your brothers, they went along with this little scheme of yours?”

“I told them this is what I wanted to do. They weren’t initially pleased, but, well…”

She scratched her head as though she didn’t know what else to say, and Jonathan just stared at her, knowing, somehow, that this was not the end of the story. He could see the uneasiness in her eyes.

“What else?”

“What do you mean?”

“What else are you hiding from me?” He advanced upon her, uncaring that he seemed to be frightening her. Good. She deserved it.

“N-nothing.”

He towered over her, looking down at her, and she took a step back, setting her jaw determinately, and he had to admire her spirit as much as he hated the reason for it.

“I told you everything. Shared with you things that had happened to me that I never tell anyone. I trusted you.”

“I know that,” she said, lifting her gaze to stare him in the eye. “And I appreciate it. I am aware how hard that was for you.”

He snorted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It is why I am sharing all with you now,” she said, holding her arms out to the side as though trying to display how open she was. “I want you to know who I really am. I am Calliope Murphy. My brother is Xander Murphy. We kept our parents’ last name. I may not have had much training to be a governess, but I love Mary and Matthew and I am so grateful for the time I have spent with them. And—” she swallowed, and Jonathan watched the bobbing of her throat. Her voice dropped. “I am falling for you.”

Jonathan stood there, unmoving.

“Are you going to say anything?” she finally asked, her eyes wide, watery, pleading.

“How am I supposed to know what to believe, when our entire relationship is based on a lie?” he asked, his words hard, but he found that he couldn’t allow himself to soften for her, not one inch.

“But it wasn’t,” she insisted. “Everything I have felt for you, for the children, it has all been true.”

“Except that you are not who you say you are. Tell me, are your brothers really your brothers?”

“In every way that I have explained,” she said. “Xander is my brother by blood, while Arie took us in when our parents passed.”

“And they truly work in artifacts and priceless objects?”

Her eyes shifted to the side. “Yes, in a sense.”

“What do you they actually do?”

She lifted her shoulders. “That is not my secret to share. It is theirs.”

“So you will not betray their confidence, but you will betray mine?”

“It’s not like that,” she insisted, but her nostrils flared as she fisted her fingers at her sides. “But you know what? I can only defend myself for so long. If you insist on being so wilfully vengeful, so be it. I don’t know how else to prove to you that I mean what I say.”

“Don’t try to turn this back around on me.”

“What do you want from me, Jonathan?”

He breathed in deeply as he stared at her, wishing she wasn’t so beautiful, that his pull toward her wasn’t so strong, that he didn’t want her as badly as he did.

“I want you to never have lied to me. I want you to have respected the trust I placed in you. I want you to have realized that I would never have allowed a fraud to care for my niece and nephew.”

“You cannot continue to dwell on the mistakes I’ve made without looking forward at what could be done.”

He looked down at her, his heart at war with his mind. Part of him wanted to reach out and gather her in his arms and tell her that he didn’t care what her name was or where she came from, that she was going to be his and he would give her a new name, one that she could hold onto forever.

But that was ludicrous. She would be a duchess, then. His duchess. And he didn’t even know who she truly was.

“I need to think about this.”

“I understand.” She shrank back away from him, and he had never felt more alone.

“I don’t think you should come to the country to meet my mother.”

She looked down as she hugged her arms around herself. “Very well.”

She dropped her arms, turning around and walking to the door. She stood there for a moment, one hand on the doorframe as she looked back at him, every inch the goddess she was, although a very sad one at the moment.

“Goodbye, Jonathan.”

As she continued down the hallway, he wondered why it felt like she was saying goodbye forever.

* * *

Calli stared moroselyat the painting lying on the bed in front of her.

It was finished. It was perfect. And she had never felt so incomplete.

She sank down beside the bed, her head in her hands. Jonathan and children were gone, left for the country. While she remained, alone, just waiting for her brothers to come and complete her betrayal.

She had thought that she was doing the right thing by sharing at least a little bit of her true self with Jonathan. Instead, it had done the opposite, only furthering his deepening distrust in her.

Telling him the first bit of truth had been her attempt to see just whether or not he might ever be accepting of her if it turned out she was not who she said she was.

Whatever she thought might have been a potential match between them was completely gone now. The façade of their moments together had been just that — moments. There would be nothing more, and she had been a fool to ever consider that there could be.

He was a duke, for goodness sake.

She was nothing, no one.

No, that wasn’t quite true.

She was a fraud, from a family of thieves.

Now her brothers would be here tonight to steal from Jonathan, to take the painting that would be the final tie to be severed between them. Even if he never found out, she would always know.

Unless…

An idea came to her. One that was rather extreme, and would require her to act quickly. She looked at her painting, then at the packed bags beside it.

She would leave, yes, no matter what happened, for to stay would only lead to her own heartbreak.

But she could make things right.

She had to.