There Are Plenty More Dukes in the Sea (The Inheritance Clause Book 1)

by Samantha Holt

  Oh, yes, her knowledge of men had proved her correct. Handsome indeed. From underneath the brim of his hat, a determined gaze fixed upon her. For a moment, she was certain he was going to keep walking until he was practically toe to toe with her. Quite a large part of her would not have minded that. He had the body of a man who surely had to know how to hold a woman when dancing, and long fingers that would cradle a lady’s hand just so.

  He did not barrel right up to her and press the length of his body against her, however. Of course he did not. He was a stranger, and that would be an entirely odd thing to do. But Angel could not help mourn the loss of her little fantasy. The men in Town rarely looked at her with such intensity—not even the Duke of Norwick. No, that blasted man had a constant quirked smile on his lips as though she amused him persistently. For once, she’d like to see him look at her like this. She offered a careful smile and tilted her head a little to ensure he saw her from her best angle—all wide-eyed and innocent.

  “What the devil is this?” The stranger in question motioned to Mrs. Stone and then the paintbrush in Angel’s hand.

  Now that Angel had a moment to think about it, perhaps that intense look was not quite as she had anticipated. He was not driven to stride over by his desperate need to be close to her. No, the man was angry.

  She frowned. What sort of a man was angered by art? Especially by her wonderful, creative masterpiece in progress.

  Angel looked back at her work. “Oh.”

  “Oh?” The man removed his hat and rested it under his arm so that he could push a hand through his hair.

  After looking a little more dispassionately at her work, she could see that it was perhaps not quite as masterful as she had hoped. In fact, it was quite a way from being masterful. In truth, a five-year-old could likely have done better. How frustrating. She had so been enjoying herself.

  The man ran his gaze over Angel, and his lips tightened. His callous stare lingered on where she felt the paint hardening on her skin. Though it was silly and frivolous of her, she found herself disappointed that the only reaction she could conjure in this man was pure disdain.

  No one looked at her that way. Ever!

  If they did not appreciate her symmetrical face, sweetly pointed nose, and generous lips, they at least respected her rank.

  Well, she would show him as soon as she had the opportunity to introduce herself.

  “Aunt, you should be inside. It is breezy today.” The man went to put his arms around Mrs. Stone, but she shrugged them off.

  “I am quite well, Reuben.”

  So this handsome, dismissive man was a nephew. It would do to charm him then as she would likely be seeing him a fair bit during her two months here. Unfortunately, she could no longer summon her charming smile. Not when he was scowling as though Angel and his aunt had done something gravely more terrible than painting outside.

  “It is a lovely day. The fresh air is good for your aunt,” Angel interjected.

  He sent her a hard look that she had no doubt many a man and woman had cowered under. Angel puffed out a breath and met his gaze head-on.

  It would be a lot easier to dismiss this man if he were not so handsome. Black hair curled around an angular face that revealed slight signs of stubble. Admittedly, he was not as perfectly polished as the Duke of Norwick, and the dimple in one cheek was a little odd in a grown man, especially on such a stern face. Her attention kept swinging back to it, wondering how it was that he only had one and if women enjoyed tracing their fingers over it.

  She gave herself a mental shake and forced herself to hold a glare of her own, drawing up her chin and trying not to think about how blue his eyes were.

  He had to have Irish blood in him surely…? And—

  “Miss?”

  Angel blinked. “Pardon?”

  “I asked who you were. I do not believe we have been introduced.” His tone remained cold, not a hint of welcome inflecting it.

  “Oh.” She forced her chin higher and hoped he noticed her stance rather than the color likely tingeing her cheeks. “I am Lady Angel Templeton. Your aunt’s new companion.”

  “Oh how delightful.” Mrs. Stone clapped her hands together. “Here I thought I was going to be lumbered with some ageing, plump creature, but you are quite delightful indeed.”

  Angel managed a smile at Mrs. Stone’s effusive praise. At least someone here was pleased to see her. Apparently the utterance of a name most people of consequence should know had negligible effect on this man.

  “You are her lady’s companion?”

  Admittedly, Angel had been shocked when she’d read the full extent of her task and talked to the lawyer. Her grandfather must have put a lot of effort into arranging her new role prior to his passing. But, even so, was it so shocking that she might be a kind-hearted young woman seeking to help another? That might not be her reasoning for being here, but he didn’t know that. No one apart from the lawyer, her mother, and her siblings did.

  “I am indeed.” Angel tilted her head. “And you have yet to introduce yourself, sir. Whom might you be?” She perfected her most aristocratic tone, sure to make any man squirm.

  Sadly, there was a distinct lack of squirming. She tried to keep the dissatisfaction from her face. Why was this man so damnably immune to her?

  “Mr. Hunter,” he said simply.

  Angel met his gaze with a bold one of her own. If he thought he could intimidate her, he would be in for shock. Whatever she had done to displease him, she could not fathom, but no one scared Lady Angel Templeton. No one.

  Especially not a stern Mr. Hunter who clearly thought himself much higher and mightier than he really was.

  “Aunt, why do you not go inside and ring for some tea?” he suggested, his tone and scowl lightening briefly as he addressed his aunt. “No doubt your guest has had a long journey and is in need of refreshment.”

  For a moment, Angel considered that he had undergone a sudden and swift change of heart with regards to her, but the smile vanished as soon as Mrs. Stone had uttered her agreement and hastened inside the house.

  “She should not have been out here in such weather.” Mr. Hunter’s lip curled in distaste and his gaze landed on the paint splotches again. “And you should not have been encouraging her.”

  “Encouraging her?” Angel nearly choked on a breath. “I have been here all of twenty minutes. I hardly think I have managed to corrupt your aunt already. Besides, how on earth is painting a corrupting pastime? If it is, someone should tell Mr. Constable or…or Van Gogh.”

  “Van Gogh chopped off his ear,” Mr. Hunter said dryly, ice in his gaze.

  “Well, your aunt has both of her ears, and I hardly think a little harmless painting is likely to lead to that.”

  “We have met before, you know.”

  Scowling, she forced herself to take true notice of his appearance. He dressed well with an excellently cut jacket and a gold embroidered waistcoat. Flecks of mud tarnished his hessians so he must have ridden to Mrs. Stone’s house rather than come in a carriage, but that did not mean much. Both Seth and Theo rode aplenty. Given Mrs. Stone’s clearly comfortable life and his appearance, she had to assume Mr. Hunter was no pauper. But she did not know him as a member of the ton nor recognize him from any events in London.

  “Forgive me, I do not recall,” she managed to squeak out under his intense stare. Why on earth did he have to possess such blue eyes? Did he know how strangely mesmerizing they were? Was that why he was attempting to use them to his full advantage?

  Damn the man. This would not endure. She might not wish to be here any more than he wanted her, but she had done nothing wrong except be known to him apparently. Forcing herself to forget eyes that were like twin sapphires beckoning to her, she straightened her shoulders.

  “Though, whether you have met me or not, I am not certain why I should entertain such a cold welcome. I have come to help your aunt.” She met his gaze with what she prayed was a hard glare of her own. Glares were not e
xactly her specialty. Giggles or flirtatious winks were more to her taste.

  Apparently her glares were not nearly up to par with her winks. His expression remained unchanged and entirely unintimidated. In fact, he took a step closer so that she had to crane her neck to look up at him.

  “I am aware of your reputation is what I mean.”

  Drawing in a breath, she puzzled at the shaky quality of it. Heat rolled under her skin—and she could not blame the weather nor the breadth of his shoulders. No, this was entirely different. She was angry.

  She never got angry!

  “My reputation as a lady from a fine family is what you mean, I assume?” Angel replied.

  “Your reputation as a lady who actively pursues entertainment.”

  “Be careful, Mr. Hunter.” She dropped her voice. “I will have you sued for slander.”

  “You know very well I speak no lies.” His gaze dropped briefly to her lips then darted back up. “You are known to be prone to outrageous behavior.”

  She snorted. Admittedly, she did not like to spend her time embroidering or gossiping quietly with her friends, but her behavior was hardly scandalous. Yes, she enjoyed a good dance and took every opportunity to laugh and flirt, but it was entirely harmless. She was always escorted, and she could hardly help if some of the sour-faced crones did not approve of her vivacious manner.

  “I did not realize such behavior was a crime. Nor would I go so far as to call it outrageous.”

  “My aunt is in need to a steady companion. Someone who can ensure she remains safe and well.”

  “And I hardly think allowing her to paint put her in any danger,” Angel exclaimed.

  His lips thinned. “My aunt’s behavior can be…erratic. You encouraging her is not helpful.”

  “I suppose you would rather she remained inside, Mr. Hunter? Spending her time embroidering or perhaps that she simply stay sedentary for the rest of her days?”

  “There are plenty of age-appropriate activities for a lady of her age,” he said tightly.

  “I understand that you may think you are protecting her, but you do your aunt a disservice.”

  Angel could not help like how his posture tightened. A tiny flourish of triumph whirled its way through her, easing some of the annoyance bunching her fists. The man was being wholly unreasonable and he had to know it.

  “By your own proclamation, you have been here a mere twenty minutes, and yet you claim to know what my aunt needs already, my lady?”

  The mocking formality edging Mr. Hunter’s tone had her bunching her fists all over again. She had to concentrate hard not to twist on her heel and stomp off. She did not want to be here any more than he seemed to want her here, but she had no choice. If she did not complete these two months and ensure Mrs. Stone remained in excellent health, she would not gain her inheritance. Goodness knows, Theo needed one less burden desperately.

  Oh yes, and she would be that much more impressive to the Duke of Norwick. She kept forgetting that part.

  Angel forced her voice to remain steady and her feet to stay in one spot. “I do not need to know your aunt to understand that no lady of intelligence wishes to remain cloistered in a house with nothing to entertain.” She drew up her shoulders. “Now, if you are done berating me, I imagine your aunt is waiting inside for us, and she was right, I have had a long journey.” She took a long breath. “I must thank you for your…warm welcome” —she quirked her lips and took a little pleasure in the way his expression soured— “but I think I could do with some refreshment and a little repose. You should like that, Mr. Hunter. You seem quite a fan of inactivity.”

  His eyes turned hard. “Just be aware, my lady, I will be watching you. My aunt is important to me, and I will not have some frivolous young lady taking advantage of her.”

  “Whether you are her nephew or not, Mr. Hunter, I shall not be intimidated. I wish only the best for your aunt, and if I believe that includes painting outside, you can be certain that is what will happen.”

  Angel turned on her heel, snatched up her travel bag, and headed toward the house. Somehow she felt his gaze boring into her back but managed to keep her gaze head-on. The awareness made her stomach twist, however. For some reason, this man had already decided he knew her and was determined she was entirely inappropriate for his aunt. Well, this might not have been how she’d planned to spend the next two months, but she would show him.

  Chapter Four

  Reuben rubbed a hand across his face. While he might not have liked Lady Angel Templeton, he’d rather hoped his impression of her had been wrong. He had never been formally introduced to her—after all, his time in London was for work and never for any of the frivolities the ton enjoyed. He was not quite important or rich enough to be considered part of the ton. However, he’d witnessed her…vivacious behavior. It might sit well enough within London society, but it would not do here. Besides, what the devil was a lady of her breeding doing being a lady’s companion? Surely there was a ball somewhere that was lacking dancers or a gathering of noblemen with a need of some flirtation?

  Oh yes, he knew well enough of Lady Angel’s reputation as silly and flirtatious. The papers were seldom without a line or two dedicated to her persistence in all things frivolous and amusing. While she might not be actively involved in scandal, she was one of those women who persisted skirting the line. As soon as she married a wealthy, titled gentleman, her behavior would change from slightly mischievous to downright wicked. He’d seen it many a time, not least in his own mother.

  Unfortunately for Lady Angel, the letter he’d just received only secured his understanding of her arrival here. He ran his gaze over the neat cursive once more then folded and tucked it into the breast pocket of his jacket.

  Lady Angel…if there was anyone further from an angel, it had to be her. Whoever had arranged this with his aunt was surely mad. Indeed she had the sort of perfect skin and symmetrical features one might expect from an angel, and her emerald eyes were to the point of startling. And, admittedly, her figure was distracting. Not to mention that dark glossy hair…

  Reuben frowned. What was his point now? He reached across the desk and clasped his cup of coffee. Well, it did not matter what his point about her looks were. The fact of the matter was she should not be looking after his aunt, and he could only fathom one reason why she would volunteer for such a position—money.

  His aunt had plenty, and according to the letter, the Marquis of Eastbrook was struggling financially. With several large estates to look after and a dead wife who apparently managed to accrue enough debt to make even the Prince Regent cringe, as well as three siblings who no doubt took some looking after, it had become clear why Lady Angel Templeton was spending time with his aunt.

  He sighed. Hopefully there would come a day where no one was trying to swindle his trusting aunt and he could relax. Today, however, was not that day. Reuben took a quick sip of coffee and grimaced at the bitter, cold taste. After dealing with some constituent problems, this letter from a friend in London who had far better connections with the ton than he had caused him to forget all about his afternoon drink.

  It was not because he had spent too long thinking of Lady Angel’s green eyes.

  No. Not at all.

  Shoving back his chair, he stood and straightened his jacket. He would have to spend even more time at his aunt’s if he was going to ensure this woman did not swindle any money out of her.

  With a quick glance around the study at the letters abandoned on the desk and the general mess, Reuben shook his head. Ideally, he would spend the day working, but his mind was not in it now.

  Not because Angel Templeton was preoccupying his mind.

  Even if she was not readying herself to deceive his aunt, she hardly warranted much thought. He knew her type all too well—pretty, wealthy, used to getting whatever they wanted, and bored far too easily. A woman like her would lose interest soon enough with any luck, and his aunt would be safe. Until then, he had to protect Au
nt Jean.

  He strode out of the study, wincing at the bright streams of sunlight spilling in through the glass that lined the corridor. Crests and family mottos were set in colored glass into the windows at the top, shimmering their varying hues onto the wooden floor. Dust danced in the light, reminding him of how Lady Angel had looked with the sunlight behind her yesterday.

  He shook his head to himself and strode along the corridor to the stairs leading down to the main living areas. No doubt she had been fully aware of how she appeared. In fact, she’d likely expected him to be thoroughly charmed by her appearance, but he’d seen straight through her the moment he set eyes on her. Lady Angel Templeton wanted nothing more than fun, and no matter how charming she seemed with her perfect smile and those little splotches of paint smeared across her cheeks, she was not suited to looking after his aunt.

  “Good afternoon, Sir.” One of the maids scurried past when he stepped into the drawing room, a bundle of laundry in hand. Several sheets spilled from the pile and dropped to his feet. “Oh dear…”

  Reuben held up a hand. “I’ll get it, Ruth.” He crouched and picked up the creased sheets, taking the time to fold each neatly and set it back on top of the pile.

  She gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Sir, you know how my back plagues me.”

  “I hope you will take my advice and see Dr. Donaldson soon. You can send the bill to me.”

  “I will, Sir, I promise.” Ruth hastened off. Reuben sighed. He doubted she would. No doubt she was too proud to take his charity. Perhaps he would see if he could arrange a subtle pay rise with the housekeeper to cover the cost.

  Retrieving his coat and hat, he headed to the stables, crossing the narrow bridge across the moat that surrounded the house. Built by his ancestors in the Tudor era, the building still bore the marks of the era with its small windows and dark wood beams set into the walls. It even boasted a priest hole where the family would have once hidden clergymen from those seeking to punish Catholics. He could appreciate the history now, but as a child, he’d simply enjoyed that he could sneak away and while away hours reading or playing. Growing up with five sisters had been no peaceful childhood, no matter how much he loved them.