Never A Duke (Dukes' Club Book 11)

by Eva Devon

  Gruff, big man that he was with an iron bar of a mustache and a great, big, rough beard, he knew the best silk, the best damask, and the best embroidery this side of Paris.

  She turned to the spires of the London city on the horizon.

  It was a city that was best known for the spires of its churches, thanks to Christopher Wren. She knew that. She did know her architecture. She knew her history and her poetry too.

  Well, of course she knew her poetry, her mother had named her after one of the muses, after all.

  She sighed.

  Would she conquer London, or would London conquer her?

  There was really only one permissible answer to that. And so, with a smile, she headed down the gangplank, eager to see what the rest of the Eversleighs would make of her.

  If Captain Eversleigh was any indication, it was going to be a most interesting evening indeed.

  Chapter 5

  Much to Lock’s irritation, Tony would not stop guffawing.

  Tony cleared his throat, tried to speak, then laughed again, “I thought you said she was a pirate.”

  “Well, she looks like one, doesn’t she?” Lock said tightly, folding his arms across his chest.

  Tony peered at the woman in question then nearly choked on another laugh. “No, no, my friend, she does not.”

  “Well, what sort of marks would make her look like a bona fide pirate?” Lock gestured towards her with a jerk of his chin. “Look at that hat. Look at those feathers. Look at the buckle upon her hat.”

  Tony shook his head. “Her bosoms are not out, dear friend. She has no tattoos, and she’s got a skirt on. I think she’s bathed today. And. . . she’s not armed to the teeth.”

  Lockhart scowled. “Those hardly seen proper considerations. Surely, someone like her could still be a pirate?”

  Tony’s father, the Duke of Aston, strolled up between them, his long, velvet coat dramatically trailing behind him. He placed his arms on both their shoulders, rings flashing upon his fingers. “Whatever are we conversing about today, lads?”

  “We’re discussing female pirates,” Lock supplied, wary of how this conversation would go. Aston loved to be outrageous, but Lock did admire him.

  “Female pirates, eh?” Aston said. “Known a few of those in my day. But we don’t talk about that much anymore.” He winked at his son. “Your stepmother wouldn’t like it.”

  Tony rolled his eyes. He adored his stepmother, who was but a few years older than himself. “You couldn’t shock Rosamond if you tried.”

  “Don’t I know it?” said Aston happily. “And thank God for it. Never would I have married her if she hadn’t been so capable and imaginative.”

  Lock smiled.

  He really quite liked her too.

  Rosamond was a good sport, and she knew how to play by the rules of the game, which was to say she gave as good as she got. She dressed like a lady, acted like a lady, but she was quite something to behold.

  Lock’s brow furrowed. Nothing like that American woman, whom he so abhorred.

  Aston narrowed his eyes. “Now, who the devil are we speaking about? A pirate woman?”

  Tony nodded. “Indeed. It seems like our Lock here thinks he’s met himself a female pirate. I have assured him that is not the case.”

  “In London?” Aston queried, his gold earring winking in the candlelight. “I find I must agree that I doubt it very much. Most of those women are traveling on the other side of the world. There certainly are a few, but not in London these days, pup. In the old days, they certainly never would’ve come here for fear of making a quick stop at the end of a short drop.”

  The law still hung pirates with aplomb. They were a breed that had almost died out entirely.

  “Well,” said Lock, “I disagree. That woman over there, in the corner? She most certainly has the looks of a pirate about her.”

  Aston followed his gaze. He caught sight of the young woman, and his mouth dropped open.

  “My God,” Aston breathed.

  Tony followed his father’s gaze. “Do you know her, Da? It seems that you do.”

  Aston gave a single nod.

  The duke, usually so bombastic and full of life, looked as though he’d seen a ghost.

  “I can scare credit it,” the Duke of Aston whispered.

  “Credit what?” asked Lock, suddenly feeling hesitant. “Is she indeed a pirate?”

  Aston just rolled his golden eyes at him, letting out a sound which clearly denoted he thought Lock to be ridiculous. “Of course not, pup. Girl like that, she’s not a pirate. She wouldn’t ever slit a man’s throat soon as look at him.”

  Lock paused.

  No, he agreed with that. The Duke sister did not look like a young woman who would happily slit another man’s throat. She seemed far too reasonable for that.

  Still, she seemed unbound by the rules of society.

  Aston, as if reading his mind, said, “Now look here, my fellow. If you thought all people who did not behave by society’s dictates were pirates, this entire room would be relegated to lawlessness.”

  “They almost are,” pointed out Lock. “The only thing that keeps them from the noose is generally the fact that they were born sons of dukes, brothers of dukes, sisters of dukes, the wives of dukes.”

  “Fair point,” Aston said and quirked a brow. “I can’t argue that. The aristocracy doesn’t need to follow the rules. Is that why you don’t like her, then? Because she doesn’t follow the rules?”

  “Quite possibly,” Lock confessed.

  “Then, you envy her,” Aston assessed frankly.

  Lock growled, “I don’t think so.”

  “Indeed, you do, my boy,” Aston countered with a tone that would not be gainsaid. “Indeed, you do, for you like rules a good deal and don’t feel that you can stray from them, so those who do it on a daily basis irk you.”

  “You think that you know her?” Lock cut in, not caring for the line of conversation.

  “I do not think. I know exactly who she is,” Aston said softly. “It has to be her. You see, she looks exactly like. . .”

  “Like who?” his son challenged. “Bloody hell, Da, please don’t tell me you think she might be—”

  “No,” Aston cut in. “No, she wouldn’t be one of mine, boy. I don’t think so. I think you’re the only one of those.”

  Tony, his father’s only bastard, a claimed one, smiled at that. “You know I wouldn’t mind,” Tony assured, “nor would Rosamond, I think. The more, the merrier and all that.”

  Aston nodded, giving his son a loving look. “No, I know Rosamond wouldn’t mind. She knows that I had my wild days, but I would mind. I’d hate to think I had another child out there without my support.”

  Tony smiled. “You have a soft heart, Da.”

  “Indeed, I do, my boy, and thank goodness for it,” Aston said grandly. “If I had not, the high seas would have been a far bloodier place.”

  Lock’s throat tightened.

  It was a fair truth, universally acknowledged within their family, that Aston had been a pirate, no questions asked, but perhaps not one of the most brutal ones. It was only a few years since he’d returned home to the golden fold of England and took up his dukedom.

  Aston drew in a deep breath. “I think I’m going to go say hello, and see if the lass truly is who I think.”

  “Let us take you over, then,” Lock said.

  “Perhaps Lock should make the introductions,” Tony said, “since I haven’t been introduced.”

  Lock scowled. “If you insist,” he said. He hadn’t exactly been introduced himself, but that was neither here nor there.

  “Doing a difficult thing is damn good for one’s character, isn’t it now?” Aston drawled.

  Lock sighed. “As you wish, Your Grace.”

  “Ooh, I like that,” said Aston. “A good bit of respect from a pup.”

  And so off they went, Lock falling in the lead. He didn’t know why he was doing what Aston said, but the truth
was he liked the duke quite a lot.

  Everyone did, except for those who couldn’t stand his playful arrogance. There were two camps quite distinct: those who loved Aston, and those who abhorred him.

  And, despite his love of rules and regulations, Lock loved the wildness of the man. For no one had had a bigger hand in the repair of Lock’s family than the Duke of Aston.

  So, he cut across the room and whispered over his shoulder, “You know, I don’t know her that well. We just had one encounter upon the steps at her brothers’—”

  “I don’t wish to hear it,” Aston cut in. “No need to frame it. Just go ahead and introduce me.”

  Lock gave a tight nod.

  He stopped once they crossed the room and cleared his throat.

  Calliope Duke turned slowly to them, arching a golden brow. Her long hair was not up at all, but curled rather voluptuously about her face and down her back.

  It was like tangled gold, and he wished he could stroke his fingers through it.

  It tumbled over a dark green coat embroidered with gold and studded with similarly gold buttons. She had a ruffled black cravat and a tight waistcoat that hugged her body like it was sin.

  The coat’s hem and cuffs were embroidered with gold filigree, and below it was a skirt that had voluminous folds cascading to her ankles. She was also wearing those damnable black boots again.

  “Miss Duke,” he said boldly. “May I introduce you to the Duke of Aston?”

  She turned to the man, and then her eyes seemed to widen, filling up with some unknown emotion. “My God,” she said. “It’s you.”

  Aston’s whole face changed. His eyes glowed, and to Lock’s horror, he realized they were glowing with tears.

  “You know me?” Aston whispered hoarsely.

  “Indeed, I do,” she rushed, her eyes full of wonder. “I remember seeing you standing on a ship when I was but a little thing. You were sailing in the opposite direction, and you had the temerity to launch a cannonball as a salute to my mother’s ship.”

  Aston laughed then, a big roar of a laugh.

  “By God, you’re right, my girl.” Aston clapped his big hands together. “You are her daughter.”

  “I am,” she said. “Calliope Duke at your service, and I’m thrilled that you knew her.”

  Suddenly, a broad, infectious smile blossomed on her face. “Did you like her, then? You must’ve to do such a thing.”

  “Oh, your mother was a corker,” Aston said, his voice full of emotion. “Anne Donnelly was the best lass this side of the world, and I could not have liked anyone better.”

  Tony cleared his throat.

  “Well, except for your mother, dear boy, and Rosamond, whom I’m married to now. But you see, Captain Anne Donnelly was a good friend of mine, and she knew what was what. Damn shame that she. . .”

  Aston paused.

  “Yes, it is a damn shame,” Calliope whispered, a shadow darkening her gaze.

  Lock followed the exchange, not really, truly understanding what was happening, but he realized there was a deep affection and a history between these two that he could never hope to understand.

  They had something far more wild than he’d ever known.

  It didn’t matter that he’d been deployed to the darkest parts of the world and had managed to survive. There, he’d seen horror, as these two might have seen horror, but somehow they’d been united by something grander, something more wild, something full of more adventure.

  And suddenly, he found himself envying it.

  He never had in the past, but somehow, suddenly, he wished he was a small boy on a ship sailing halfway around the world, with a cannonball flying overhead, past the mainsails, in salute of his mother, even though his real mother was already someone to be reckoned with, indeed.

  Aston smiled again. “Anne Donnelly’s girl. My God. You’re welcome in London, you are, lass, and I will do whatever it takes to make sure you have a good time while you’re here. No one shall say anything against you, or they’ll have to report to me.”

  And with that, Aston gave Lock a hard look.

  “I haven’t said anything,” Lock bit out quickly.

  Aston snorted. “Indeed, you have. You’ve accused the lass of being a pirate.”

  She laughed then, a full-bodied sound.

  “A pirate, indeed. He keeps saying such things. Can you imagine? Can you imagine what he’d do if he met a real pirate?” she teased.

  Lock tensed.

  He wasn’t accustomed to being teased unless it was by his brothers, and then it was just a good sort of needling, and they then socked it out whether in the ring or upon a dueling strip.

  He couldn’t exactly dare her out to a duel, though he had a funny feeling that if he did, she’d go.

  “Yes, I’ve been told you’re not a pirate,” he said. “I still have my doubts.”

  She grinned. “Come with me, and I’ll show you somewho have not yet died. They’d still get the best of you.”

  “Do you think?” he asked with an arch of a brow.

  She stopped then and gave him a slow once-over. “It’s hard to say, Captain Eversleigh. You do like to play by the rules.”

  “I confess it,” he said. “I’ve chosen a life of honor.”

  “Honor, honor, honor,” she returned. “The English and their honor. I don’t really think the English are that honorable,” she said. “I think they like to play at it, to pretend at it, to be gentlemen. . . And then stab a person in the back.”

  “My God,” he said. “You make your feelings quite plain.”

  “No, not God, just the truth,” she replied, locking gazes with him.

  “Her mother was Irish,” Aston said with all the drama of a stage whisper.

  “Clearly,” Lock drawled.

  “You don’t like the Irish?” Calliope challenged.

  “I have nothing against the Irish race.” He studied her, feeling he had stepped into some sort of trap.

  “Oh my, the Irish race?” she trilled with an exaggerated exaction. “Spoken like a proper Englishman.”

  “I am a proper British man,” he explained.

  “And doesn’t it show?” she declared. “Not a single one of you actually likes the Irish,” she said. “You all tolerate them, and you allow them to participate in some parts of your society, but certainly not in government, and certainly not as equals.”

  He frowned. He couldn’t argue it. She was absolutely correct.

  As a matter of fact, his brother, the duke, was constantly fighting against the strictures put against the Irish people, and Catholics in general too.

  He blew out a breath. “I don’t wish to be accused of—”

  “Accused of what? Representing your race?” she cut in fiercely.

  He scowled again. She was twisting his words.

  “I am proud to be English,” he said tightly. “What are you proud of? Being a rebel?”

  “I’m proud of the ship I run,” she riposted. “I’m proud of my crew, and I’m proud of the fact that I misuse no one in my pursuit of adventure and profit.”

  “No one?” He scoffed. He’d been about the world enough to know such a thing was almost impossible. “Are you certain?”

  Her eyes narrowed to sparkling slits. “No one,” she repeated.

  “Hmm,” he said, folding his hands behind his back as he peered down at her. “I find that difficult to believe.”

  Aston and Tony looked at each of them back and forth, up and down, and Tony began to whistle softly as if a gauntlet had been thrown down.

  Lock wondered at that.

  Had he really issued such a challenge?

  From the fiery look in Calliope’s eyes, it seemed he had.

  “Come then, good sir,” she said. “Give me a chart or two, and I’ll show you the ways I go and how I avoid the troubles that others fall into.”

  “It would be my delight,” he said slowly, giving way to her. “Show me how you are without sin.”

  She
looked at him then, and she let out an exasperated breath. “You are absolutely impossible.”

  “And so are you,” he reminded, both admiring her and maddened by her.

  “A perfect pair, then?” Aston declared boldly.

  “A perfect pair,” Tony confirmed quickly before he called rather loudly, “Surely, it’s time for dinner.”

  “It must be, lad,” Aston agreed.

  Like a pair of mad goats, the father and son both started glancing around, absolutely amused. For after all, the fireworks are meant to be for after dinner, not before.

  As if hearing Aston’s suggestion, a gong was struck, summoning them all in to dinner.

  One would have thought the night couldn’t have gone any more absurdly. . . One would have been wrong.

  Lock’s mother, the indomitable Duchess of Hunt, suddenly appeared by his side in her full regalia of jewels and silks, declaring, “My dear Lock, you will take our guest in, for you two are the only unpaired couple.”

  “Damnation,” Lock said under his breath.

  Calliope rolled her eyes. “Well, it seems as if we are to be matched.”

  “At least in this,” he said, resigned. “You promise you won’t spit in my soup?”

  She laughed, a wild, delightful sound. “Oh, barbarians can never promise anything,” she said. “And you know the Irish have no manners at all.”

  He groaned. “You’re never going to let me live that particular comment down, are you?”

  “Don’t worry,” she assured, taking his offered arm. “We shan’t know each other long enough for it to be particularly painful.”

  “Do you promise?” he asked, even as he felt himself come totally alive at her light touch. It shocked him. . . Like hot lightning, the thrill of it raced through him.

  “Oh, I absolutely do,” she said, eyes shining with mischief. “And I promise you this, too.”

  “What is that?” he asked as he began to lead her in to dinner, following the other pairs.

  She gave him a tigerish grin. “That I’ll make the time we have together absolutely unforgettable.”

  He’d never doubted that. Not even for a moment.

  Chapter 6