A Duke's Desire (The Duke's Club Book 1)

by G. L. Snodgrass

  Bedford frowned as he pondered his friend’s words.

  “Besides,” Ian said, “you should hope she has returned to the Docks. Otherwise, you will never find her. London is too big. It is only if she returns to the Docks or bumps up against Mrs. Jensen’s web that you will find her.

  The realization sent a cold chill down the Duke’s spine. The thought that his only hope was if Ann made the mistake of returning to that hell on earth known as the London Docks.

  “You are right,” he said as he jumped up. “It is our only hope.”

  Ian nodded as he tapped his top hat resting on the desk in front of him “Can we stop at my home on our way. I refuse to go down to the docks dressed like this. It is bad enough being seen in the daylight in evening clothes, but there, in that part of town. We will stick out like harlots in a convent.”

  Bedford nodded.

  “I think you should change as well. There is no need to disregard convention, after all. Rest assured, we will find her there.”

  Again, Bedford nodded as he hurried to the door and yelled for his coach to be brought around. Turning back to his friend he grimaced. “A part of me hopes you are right. The other half is terrified you might be.”

  The sun was barely above the local buildings when they reached the docks. The Duke of Bedford told his coachman to stay, that they shouldn’t be too long.

  “Should I go with you? Your Grace,” James asked as he jumped down from the back of the coach. He quickly scanned the neighborhood and shuddered. “I really …”

  “No,” the Duke responded, “We will be but a few minutes.”

  Ian shot him a quick frown as if saying it might be prudent for an extra pair of eyes, and if necessary, fists.

  “Come on,” Bedford said as he started down a pier, “I believe Jack’s ship, is this way. At least it was the last time he was home.”

  It took them asking a gnarled old dockhand who finally pointed them in the right direction to find His Majesty’s Ship, The White Tern. A dozen different sailors and stevedores were loading supplies, each laden with wooden crates or large sacks of grain.

  The activity made Bedford’s pulse pound. They had been lucky. It appeared as if the ship would be ready in no time.

  But why should it matter? he thought. What could Jack do for them?

  “You there,” he called up to an older sailor who appeared to be supervising the loading of stores. The man frowned down at them, taking in their appearance, the frown deepened. Bedford well knew that look. It was the look of a man who hated being interrupted. Especially, by toffs who didn’t have a clue about real work.

  “We need to see Captain Jack Hardy,” Bedford yelled up at the man.

  The frown deepened to a full scowl as if the man was trying to determine why these men should be interrupting his day.

  “Who’s to be calling on the Capt’n?”

  “Please tell him that the Duke of Bedford and the Duke of Suffolk would like a moment of his time, if you please.”

  It was as if someone had dropped a blanket of quiet across the docks as men froze in mid-task to stare at them with open mouths and large eyes.

  But not the sailor above. Bedford had to give the man credit. He didn’t blink an eye as he simply nodded to the gangway and indicated they should come up.

  Both Bedford and Suffolk climbed the narrow plank as sailors sprang to get out of their way, each one looking at them as if they were strange sea beasts come to drag them under.

  “Really, you’d think they’ve never seen a Duke before,” he whispered to Ian.

  “They probably haven’t,” Ian replied with a short laugh.

  “This way,” the sailor said as he wove his way through stores and spare sails, all with that unusual sailor stroll from side to side. “Mind yur ‘ead,” he added as he tapped the transom over a narrow ladder dropping down to a dark passageway.

  Only when the sailor was satisfied that they could maneuver down the ladder without getting lost did he turn and waddle to a door at the far end. Knocking sharply, he stuck his head in and said, “Pardon Capt’n, but two civilians to see you.” The man made the word sound like a curse. “They say they are Duke’s. I couldn’t tell the difference between a Duke and a narwhale, but they might be. Would you be wanting to be seeing them?”

  A sharp bark of laughter burst from the room. “Send them in, Thompson,” a heavy voice added.

  The Duke of Bedford had to duck his head as he stepped into the cabin, Ian close behind. Their friend, Jack Hardy, greeted them with a large smile. The large man made the room feel tight and cramped. How did he live here months on end? The thought made Bedford shiver.

  “You’ll have to forgive Thompson,” the Captain said to them with a wide smile. “The man has the manners of a White Chapel harlot.”

  Bedford nodded, dismissing any concern. He had bigger problems to worry about. Such as how to use Jack’s knowledge to find Ann.

  “We are hoping you might help,” Ian said. “It seems Bedford has lost a woman.”

  Jack frowned, “Can’t you find a different one?” he asked. “A man with your money shouldn’t find it that difficult. Even for you.”

  Bedford gritted his teeth, “It is Ann, the woman I rescued that night, outside that pub.”

  Jack glanced over at the Duke of Suffolk and raised an eyebrow, obviously asking for more.

  “It seems, our friend is smitten …”

  “Not smitten,” Bedford interrupted. “In love. There is a difference.”

  Both of Jack’s eyes opened wide. “Well then, that is a bit of a surprise. I never believed you would be caught in some woman’s trap.”

  “I’m not caught, you idiot. I chose to be here, and you had better hope to end up in the same place someday. Both of you.”

  His two friends, Jack and Ian, studied each other for a moment then both burst out laughing.

  “Not bloody likely,” Jack said as he shook his head. “I’m too good a sailor to find myself grounded and stove in. No, not me.”

  Ian shook his head as he continued to smile. “After seeing what has happened to you,” Ian said to him. “I will endeavor to avoid your error with all my heart. I assure you.”

  Both men shared a smile, then Jack turned to him. “How might I help, I can assure you, there is no woman on this vessel. Thompson would die of apoplexy to think of such a thing.”

  Bedford took a deep breath. This was the moment. Was this a waste of time or might Jack help?

  “I … we believe she may have returned here.”

  “The Docks?” Jack said as he raised an eyebrow. “Surely, she has more sense than that.”

  Bedford sighed heavily. “I don’t know where else to look.”

  Jack nodded. “What about one of those Bow Street Runners. I hear they know every nook and cranny in the city.”

  Ian shook his head. “They work for a magistrate and aren’t in the business of looking for lost women.”

  A deep frown on his face, Jack shook his head. “You’re a Duke, man. Surely, a magistrate would move heaven and earth for you. A word from you and the man’s budget could be slashed by half.”

  Bedford grumbled. “We don’t have time. We need to find her before anything bad happens.”

  “Very well, what can I do for you?”

  Bedford sighed, finally. “There is a man. Grainger, I believe. Supposedly he is involved with the less savory aspects of this area. In fact, it was his men that took Ann that night.”

  Jack frowned as he shook his head. “I don’t know the man. But then, the Royal Navy frowns upon its captains getting involved with the seamer side of life. At least here in Britain.”

  “But,” he continued as he opened his door and yelled, “THOMPSON.”

  The sailor could be heard cursing as he stomped down the stairs. “Yes, Capt’n?”

  Jack turned back to them and smiled. “If there is any man who knows the seedier, less savory parts of this city it will be my Bosun Thompson. The man knows e
very sailor’s haunt between here and Jamaica.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Sir, just to make sure I heard right,” the sailor, Thompson said. “You want me to take these gentlemen to Grainger? You do realize, they stand out like French whores in Buckingham Palace.

  Bedford hid a smile. The man did have a way of talking.

  “Yes,” Jack said. “And I expect you to keep them out of trouble.”

  Thompson rolled his eyes as he turned and left the Captain’s cabin mumbling under his breath.

  “I wouldn’t worry,” Jack said to the Duke of Bedford. “He will lead you to Grainger. After that, it is up to you. I would accompany you, but my officers are ashore. If you wished to wait a few hours?”

  Bedford stuck out his hand and thanked his friend. He could see it in Jack’s eyes. The man was rather perturbed at being left behind. Especially when danger was so near. But he couldn’t wait. Ann’s safety hung in the balance.

  “No, that won’t be necessary. I just want to talk to the man.”

  Jack nodded and then followed them down the passageway and up onto the deck. Thompson stood by the mainmast as he pulled two belaying pins and stuck them into his belt. Once they were safely seated, he pulled his sailor’s knife from its scabbard and ran a calloused thumb across the edge of the blade.

  Bedford would swear that the knife was sharp enough to shave a man’s face.

  “What?” Thompson asked when he saw their frowns. “I’m not walking into Grainger’s den unarmed and if you had the sense of a drunk rabbit you wouldn’t either.”

  Smiling widely, both Bedford and Ian, the Duke of Suffolk, patted their canes. Thompson rolled his eyes again and started down the gangplank without making sure they were ready to follow.

  “I believe we shall be off,” Ian said, “or the man will surely leave us behind.”

  Jack smiled, “He’s a good man in a fight if necessary. I do wish I was going but …”

  “No,” Bedford said as he once again held out his hand. “You have been more than helpful. We will endeavor to return Thompson unharmed. I assure you.”

  “Give the French hell,” Ian said as he shook his friend’s hand.

  Jack smiled. “That is our intention.”

  Thompson called from halfway down the pier.

  Bedford pulled Ian after him as they both hurried down the plank to catch up with Thompson. The sailor had already turned away, waddling like a duck. Bedford’s stomach turned over thinking about Ann. Was this the right path. Were they wasting their time? And there was that man from last night. The one looking for Ann. Had it been Grainger’s man. Or someone else. A long, lost love?

  No, Ann would never have come to him as she had if there had been someone else. It must have been Grainger’s man. Which made it even more imperative he stop this immediately and return Ann to the safety of his protection.

  When they turned the corner, the sailor coughed and spat into the street. “I didn’t know the Captain knew toffs like you two. It do explain a lot.”

  Bedford laughed, obviously Jack hadn’t shared his parentage. The question was which was more important to keep secret. The fact that he was a bastard. Or that his father was a Duke.

  “Have you known Captain Jack for long?” Ian asked as they turned another corner.

  Thompson grunted as he adjusted one of the belaying pins. “I was the bosun on his first ship. I had to teach the boy the difference between a spar and a spud. Never knew a boy could be so green. But he learned fast. Took him to his first cat house in Lisbon.” The smile on the man’s face indicated a fond memory

  Bedford and Suffolk shot each other a quick smile. A story that Jack had not shared.”

  “The least I could do,” Thompson continued. “The boy killed a Frenchy who was about to run me through with a cutlass. The least I could do was make sure the boy knew a woman before we got killed in some distant battle.”

  The Duke was about to ask more questions when Thompson pulled up short before a dilapidated pub named, ‘The Rose.’

  “This is it,” Thompson said as he hitched up his pants. “You let me do the talkin.’ This lot wouldn’t understand half your words. Not like me. They ain’t been educated. And the wrong thing could set them off.”

  Bedford nodded as he twisted the head of his cane to make sure the sword could be pulled easily. He noticed Ian do the same thing.

  The pub smelled of stale beer and spoiled meat. You would think a master criminal could afford better digs, Bradford thought as he fought to breathe through his mouth. Over a dozen different men sat at tables or leaned against the bar, each with a pint in front of them. Each of them looked tougher than new boot leather.

  As a group, they focused on the newcomers. Bradford could read it in their faces. Who were these idiots and could I get their purse before the next man. He was about to dismiss them, until his gaze locked with a tall man at the far end.

  Criminal number one from the night he had rescued Ann. Bedford’s stomach clenched. The look he shot the Duke could have made a hungry wolf envious.

  “These two wish to see Mr. Grainger,” Thompson said as he stared back at the room.

  “Not until I finish something,” Criminal number one said as he pushed himself off the bar and started for them.

  Thompson reached behind his back to pull a belaying pin but Bedford placed a restraining hand on his arm and shook his head. He would deal with this. Besides, the man had been rough with Ann. There was more than enough justification.

  The tall man came at a rush, obviously wanting to finish it fast. Bedford let him get close before he brought a hard fist down on the side of the man’s head. Then stepped aside to let the thug stumble forward.

  As the man caught himself, he turned. Bedford hooked the head of his cane behind the man’s ankle and pulled. The idiot dropped onto his back with a surprised expression.

  Thompson’s eyebrows rose to his hairline as he gave the Duke a look of approval.

  “Really,” Bedford said as he placed his foot on the criminal’s exposed throat. “You would think you would learn.”

  The man on the floor looked up, his eyes as big as harvest moons. All Bedford had to do was apply a little pressure and the man would die almost instantly.

  “What is the meaning of this?” a gruff voice yelled. Bedford turned to see a small man in a tatty coat and wool trousers. But the glint in his eyes and the tone of his voice spoke of a man in command.

  “That’s him,” Thompson said with a shake of his head.

  “Mr. Grainger,” Bedford said as he removed his shoe from the fallen man’s throat. “It would be advantaged if we talked.”

  The small man looked down at his defeated employee then up over the newcomers. Bedford could see it in the man’s eyes. He was evaluating and measuring. Two obviously rich men. It would perhaps be worth his while.

  He nodded to an office at the back and turned, assuming they would come.

  “Thank You, Mr. Thompson,” Bedford said. “We can take it from here. Please inform the Captain of our appreciation.”

  Thompson frowned as he studied them, then the man still laying on the floor. Obviously, these men could handle themselves. “I do need to get back before they store the hardtack in the bilges. Those men wouldn’t know how to trim a ship if their life depended upon it. Which it does by the way.”

  The sailor tipped his hat and Bedford saw a mark of respect in the man’s eyes that had not been there earlier. Shaking his head and mumbling under his breath, the man turned and left without another word.

  Bedford gave Ian a quick smile then led the way to the back office. Grainger sat behind a small table, the rest of the room was bare without any color or ornamentation. No, this man needn’t advertise his power. If you made it to this back room, you already knew.

  An anger filled Bedford. This man had attempted to kidnap Ann. To sell her like a side of beef. No. He would not allow this to continue.

  “Mr. Grainger,” Bedford began as h
e sat down on a wobbly chair across from the man. Ian chose to remain standing where he could keep an eye on the men in the room behind them.

  “I am the Duke of Bedford and this is the Duke of Suffolk,” Bedford continued. He had to give the man credit he didn’t even blink. Either he was a master at hiding his thoughts, or he already knew who they were. Either way, Bedford was impressed and readjusted his thinking slightly. The man would not be easily intimidated by titles.

  “You said business,” Grainger said with a scowl. “Who do you want killed and when?”

  Ian coughed behind him. Bedford continued to stare the man down. “We will not be needing that kind of assistance. I prefer to do my own killing. That way I can ensure it is done right.”

  Grainger studied him for a moment then smiled just slightly. Just enough for Bedford to be assured that the man knew he was perfectly serious.

  “Then what do you want with me and mine?”

  Bedford pushed aside the urge to reach over and punch the man. Heaven knew he deserved it. No, he had to think of what was best for Ann.

  “I have learned that you are looking for Miss Ann Parker.”

  The man across from him scowled as he tried to work out what this was about.

  “You will cease immediately,” Bedford told him. “In fact, if you do come across her, you will send word to me immediately.”

  The scowl on Grainger’s face deepened. “And why would I be doing that? The girl owes me.”

  Bedford smiled slightly. “I do believe you would find it a wise business decision to forgive her father’s debt.”

  Grainger scoffed as he leaned back in his chair. Bedford was rather positive the man had never done a nice thing in his life and wasn’t about to start now.

  “You have what? Twenty men working for you? Perhaps access to another dozen?”

  Grainger’s chest puffed out as he nodded.

  Bedford snorted. Just so you know. I have over two thousand Yorkshire farmers who work for me and almost a thousand Cornish miners. Each and every one of them would love a free trip to London and an opportunity to bust a head or two.”