The Duke's Refuge

by Lorri Dudley

  “Try me.”

  Rousseau’s eyes darted around the faces of the other plantation owners. “I don’t need your money. I want the land you manage. If you can convince the owners to sell me the deed to their land, I’ll give you the boy.”

  Startled gasps rose at the outrageous price. Several plantation owners, who’d initially argued for Rousseau’s side, stood up to protest.

  Rousseau stayed them with a hand. “I’m not putting him out on the streets. They can keep the manor. I don’t need another home. I’ll even throw in the boy’s aunt for good measure.”

  Mr. Gimbsy shook his head. “Now Rousseau be reasonable. You can’t expect—”

  “I get to name the price.” Rousseau interrupted. “Take it or leave it.”

  Harrison pinned Rousseau with a glare he hoped displayed the proper level of condescension and disdain. He wouldn’t typically make a deal when it would profit a man of vile character, but the Holy Spirit nudged him. The land wasn’t producing as it had in the past, and besides, he’d love to see the look of relief on Georgia’s face when he told her Booker would never have to return.

  “Done.”

  All eyes, even those of Rousseau, turned to stare at Harrison in disbelief.

  Georgia was nearly frantic by the time Harrison returned.

  He joined them for supper, and a single glance showed he was in a somber mood as he entered the room and took his place at the table. Her feet and hands tingled as if tiny ants were crawling under her skin, and her stomach flipped over like the wave that toppled their rowboat.

  “What happened?” She leaned forward and pressed her palms on the table. “Is Booker allowed to stay? Was Rousseau there? Did you tell the assembly all that transpired? Did they believe you?”

  “Hush, child.” Papa raised a hand, ceasing the firestorm of questions spewing from her lips. “Harrison will tell us what happened in good time. Let’s not spoil dinner.”

  She tried to focus on her food, but the twisting of her stomach suppressed her appetite. As she placed her fork down for good, Harrison rested his hand next to his glass and finally spoke.

  “Fredrick, would you be able to provide work for Booker and his aunt?”

  Georgia rose from her chair. “Really? He gets to stay?”

  Harrison nodded, a strained smile growing on his lips.

  She couldn’t help herself. She reached across the table and scooped up his hand. “Oh, Harrison. Thank you. Thank you.”

  His fingers squeezed hers, and his thumb gently stroked the inside of her palm. The simple movement radiated waves of heat through her body. From her elation for Booker? Or was this the effect of Harrison’s intimate touch? When the moment became too long, she pulled away and glanced at her father, hoping no one would notice the heat in her cheeks.

  “That is great news,” Papa said as Georgia resumed her seat. “But I’m sure Rousseau didn’t let him go without a price.”

  “The deal cost me my land. The manor itself will remain in my family, but the land is now owned by Rousseau.”

  “No.” Georgia’s hand flew to her mouth, and her knees weakened as her stomach anchored itself to her feet.

  Harrison’s eyes softened and held her gaze, as if to reassure her. “It was for a good cause. There was no way I could send Booker back to Rousseau with a clean conscious.” He returned his regard to Papa. “Rousseau has also given his word to leave Georgia alone.”

  “But how will you survive?” Georgia shook her head, her mind floundering to understand.

  “God provides. He has blessed my family. Max and I will not lack.”

  His words astounded her and, at the same time, deeply touched her heart. Harrison lived to serve God completely, and he did so with great confidence. She admired that, but the injustice left her nerves unsettled. “Wasn’t it to be Max’s inheritance?”

  “Max already has an inheritance from his grandparents in England.”

  Silence fell over the room. Georgia stared at the custard dessert in front of her. This was all her fault. Her recklessness had cost Harrison his lands. Why had she acted on impulse? Why hadn’t she heeded Hattie’s warning? Though she’d secured Booker’s safety, the cost had been Harrison’s livelihood.

  Her stomach soured, and she felt the burning of tears in her eyes. She blinked them away and rose. “Please excuse me. I need some fresh air.”

  A light breeze tickled the hair on the back of her neck as Georgia sat on top of a sand dune overlooking the narrows. She watched the pelicans gracefully sail through the evening air. One changed direction, arching downward. The animal folded its wings and plunged into the waters, only to reappear a few seconds later, happily bobbing on top of the waves, a fish in his mouth, an answer for its gnawing appetite.

  God, I want to serve you completely, wholeheartedly, but I mess it up. I mess everything up. I want to help, but I don’t know how without causing more harm than good. Help me.

  Her papa’s voice rang out from the recesses of her childhood memories. His breath tickled the hairs on her neck as he steadied her arms for the next shot. Remember, let God lead.

  She inhaled a deep breath and nodded her head. “All right, Lord,” she whispered into the evening air. “I’ll let you lead.”

  Her name sounded behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder. Harrison stood a few feet away, his features unreadable beneath the brim of his floppy hat.

  She turned back to watch the pelicans.

  He walked up beside her, and she caught a glimpse of his scuffed boots as she scooted over to make room for him to sit. He removed his hat and settled down next to her. His shoulder brushed against hers, and her heart quickened. They sat in silence, watching a large schooner set sail from St. Kitts toward Nevis.

  “I’m sorry.” She hated that her voice cracked. “I didn’t mean to force you to sell your land. I thought I could manipulate Edward Rousseau. I didn’t understand what he was capable of.” Her chin sank into her chest. “It’s not fair you have to pay for my mistakes.”

  He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs. “You saved Booker, and it was my turn. Besides, it’s easier to make sacrifices when you know how much Christ sacrificed for us.”

  “But I don’t deserve it.”

  “None of us deserves it.” He stared at the horizon as the gulls cried a sorrowful song. “Jesus paid it anyway. For me,” he shifted to face her, “and for you.”

  “I’ve made so many mistakes.”

  “And Jesus covered them with his blood. The Bible says our sin is removed as far as the east is from the west.”

  “But the east and the west will never… Oh.”

  Harrison smiled. “What you did for Booker was a great thing. You risked your life and saved his. The loss of a few fields is nothing compared to how valuable you are.”

  She wanted to read into his words. Her worth to God? To Harrison? Both?

  He picked up a shell and ran his fingers over the bumpy surface. “Yes, things have become complicated. They always do, but never forget, you will always be a hero in Booker’s eyes.”

  “But I’m not great. I ruin everything. You said it yourself. I get in my own way.”

  “You’ve struggled to impress others, but to be great, all you have to do is serve. That’s what Jesus did. He gave his life as a ransom for many. He didn’t come to be served. He came to serve.” Harrison tossed the shell into a receding wave and looked at her. “You may not realize it, but your heart has already changed. Each time you help teach a child, each time you sacrifice for your ailing father, each time you step up for a beaten slave, you are becoming great, and the kingdom of heaven is rejoicing.”

  Her vision blurred as warm tears coursed over her cheeks. He brushed them away with the gentle touch of his fingertips, then wrapped an arm around her. She leaned against his side, and they both stared at the vast ocean.

  “All of us want recognition. We all desire an ‘atta boy’ from our fathers and ‘atta girl’ from our mothers.”
His hand stroked her arm, sending a chill across her skin. “It’s natural. God instilled it in us, and He doesn’t condemn us for it. Jesus merely turns it upside down. Recognition comes from becoming a slave to Jesus Christ and serving others. Mark nine says, ‘Whoever wants to be first must be the very last and a servant to all.’”

  A peace settled around her heart and mind. She longed to be valued. God, I want to be great because I serve you.

  Georgia shifted to face Harrison. “Is that why God brought you to Nevis? So you could serve Him better?”

  He smiled, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “No, but God can turn all things around for his glory. I came here to run away. England held too many memories and too many expectations. I needed time for God to heal my heart.”

  She hesitated, unsure if she truly wanted to hear the answer to her next question. Finally, she asked it anyway. “And has He?”

  He removed his arm from her shoulder and ran his palms down the length of his trousers. Without his warmth, a chill nipped at her skin.

  “I don’t think that part of my heart will ever heal.”

  Georgia’s heart sank. “I see.”

  “But Max taught me that God can grow your heart to have enough love for others.”

  Her breath caught, and her heart fluttered as if it had grown wings. Could Harrison love her?

  “I judged you too harshly when you first arrived at the island.” His focus was on a nearby gull, but she knew he was as aware of her as she was of him. “I must apologize for my behavior. You reminded me of the women who sought to take Laura’s place.” He glanced back at her. “I know now that wasn’t your intention. In fact, I’ve come to appreciate your friendship.”

  “Thank you.” But the words were hollow. She didn’t want merely friendship. Her heart longed for something greater, and it made his sentiments hurt all the more. She blinked back tears.

  Harrison shifted his weight. He drew one knee up and draped his arm over it. They sat in silence as the sun sank behind a cloud, fanning a crown of orange rays into the sky.

  A schooner sailed past on the distant horizon. Julien could be on that ship. The thought came without emotion. It emerged purely from habit as it had done for so many ships that had passed before. She blinked and looked away, only to find Harrison watching her.

  “Do you still pine after Claremont?” His voice sounded curious, but his eyes scrutinized hers for the truth. “He doesn’t deserve it, not if he replaced you so quickly.”

  She wanted to look away. She wanted to be angry with him for reminding her of her humiliation, but she couldn’t. Instead, she shivered, despite the warm evening air. “I had my life all planned. I had a dream, but it was… selfish.”

  “God will give you a new plan.” The golden hue of Harrison’s eyes seemed to glow in the fade of the evening light. “His plans are always better.”

  Harrison stood and reached for her hand, his masculine grip engulfing her small fingers. Her stomach leapt as his thumb rubbed over the top. Did she imagine the intimate touch? Had it been an accident? She stood and peered up at him.

  “Georgia.” Her name fell from his lips like a caress.

  With a tug of her hand, he pulled her to him. Less than a fingertip separated them.

  Her head tilted back to hold his gaze, unwilling to let go. A moist breeze fanned the familiar fragrance of coconut, tinged with his spicy masculine scent, swirling the aroma all around her. His other hand reached toward her face, then hesitated.

  She waited, praying for his touch.

  His fingertips traced her hairline, and her heart strained against the laces of her corset, its beat reverberating throughout her entire body. Every nerve ending heightened its sensitivity until she could feel her breath passing back and forth between her lips, the weight of each fabric fiber against her skin.

  “You are not easily forgotten.” His voice caressed her, his warm breath fanning her face.

  Her stomach flip-flopped like driftwood caught in the surf, swelling and dipping on waves of emotion.

  Her mind screamed, If you lose your heart to him, you’ll never be able to look your mother or sisters in the face again. You’ll once again be the shame of the family.

  Was she brave enough to face her mother and sisters as the wife of an estate manager? Would she be disowned? Maybe. Probably.

  Did it matter? Yes. No.

  Did she love Harrison enough to give up a high society life, to become a member of the working class? Yes, her heart begged, but her mind remained frozen in fear.

  But her heart didn’t care. It plunged into love like the pelican into the ocean. Harrison changed his grip and laced his fingers with hers while his other hand drifted to the small of her back. The heat of his touch spread throughout her body. Her lips parted, and she swayed toward him.

  His fingers trailed up her spine, leaving a wake of tingling anticipation. His calloused hand cupped the nape of her neck. Her eyes fluttered closed, helpless against the torrent of emotion welling up within her.

  God help her, she loved him. She loved who he was, what he believed, what he valued and stood for. It didn’t matter that he held no title. She loved an estate manager. She loved a schoolmaster.

  His lips, like warm velvet, molded over her own. Tangled knots of sensation coursed through her stomach, all the way down to her toes. She melted into his embrace, forgetting where she was, forgetting who she was. Her life was this moment.

  Harrison’s kiss wasn’t sloppy like Julien’s. His kiss didn’t need something from her. His kiss somehow gave, as if sharing a piece of himself with her. She reciprocated in kind.

  He drew back and ran his thumb over her lips. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Georgia Lennox.”

  Her heart leapt. She lifted his hand and placed a timid kiss on the inside of his palm.

  Hunger flashed in his eyes. He crushed her to him and kissed her with an ardor she’d never known. Their arms entangled until she didn’t know where she stopped and he began.

  This was what it felt like to be in love. Georgia’s heart sang. She wasn’t certain how long they stayed wrapped in each other’s embrace, but a wagon rolled by carrying bundles of sugar cane, and they broke apart. A broad, toothy smile stretched across the driver’s face. He tipped his hat with a wink as he passed.

  Harrison looped a protective arm around her and pulled her against his side. After the wagon rode out of sight, he kissed her again. Georgia trembled in his arms as a haze of passion immersed her into new depths of longing. Eventually, Harrison released her from the sensual onslaught, and he rested his forehead against hers. “You make me forget myself.”

  She felt his smile and returned it.

  He lifted his head and cupped her face, but his expression grew serious. “There’s something I came here to tell you.”

  Her brow furrowed.

  “I’ve been summoned back to London.”

  “London? But why?”

  “My services have been requested, and Max’s grandparents have been pressing for his return. I can’t blame them. It’s been too long since they’ve laid eyes on their only grandchild.” He cleared his throat. “I also believe God wants to use me in deliberation for ending slavery, both in England and on Nevis.”

  She put a hand over her mouth and pulled back. Harrison’s arms fell to his sides.

  God, this can’t be happening. I’ve only begun to understand my feelings. He can’t leave.

  Her hand lowered. “When?”

  “We leave when the Essex sails.”

  “But the Essex is sailing into port now.” The joy she’d felt minutes before flipped into despair. “Can’t it wait?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  I will sail with you.

  She pushed the thought away. She couldn’t leave her father, and Harrison wouldn’t allow her to do so either.

  “How long will you be gone?”

  “If all goes well, I hope to return in six months. A year at most.” He pulled her int
o his arms and placed a kiss on her forehead. “I never anticipated this.”

  He’s leaving. Just like your father. She shook her head and stepped back out of his reach. Don’t be naïve. He’s not coming back. Not for you. You’re not worth it.

  Maybe if she asked, he wouldn’t leave her. She stared into his eyes. “Please don’t go.”

  “I have no choice.” He inched toward her. “I was hoping you’d wait for me.”

  A loud, steady ringing in her head drowned out his words, and her body began to tremble. She saw herself each night staring out into the ocean, hoping and waiting for his ship to arrive, but it never would. The ringing grew louder. She needed to get away. She needed to run, to scream. Not again. Not now. She stepped back.

  “Georgia, I don’t want to leave you.” He stepped forward again. “Believe me. If there was another way, I would take it.”

  The word leave rang in her ears. She retreated another step.

  “I will return.” His words were soft, and his eyes implored her to understand. But she only saw Papa’s back and heard the slamming door as her father left her alone and frightened, hiding behind his office door.

  “If you don’t return to London in that time…” he continued.

  She remembered sleeping in her father’s study, watching the door, hoping beyond hope that any moment he’d walk through. She pictured London’s dockside as the Aberdeen drifted out to sea, how she had scoured the crowd searching for Julien, hoping he’d received her missive in time. Her heart sinking when he didn’t come for her rescue. He’s never coming. You’re not worth rescuing.

  “…then I will come back for you.”

  She turned to go. “I want to believe it, but you won’t come for me. No one ever comes.” She whispered the words into the night air. “They always leave, but no one ever comes back for me.”

  She hitched up her skirts and ran.

  “Georgia, wait.”

  Harrison chased Georgia a few steps, then stopped and let her disappear among the dunes.

  Blast it all. Why hadn’t he told her the truth? He kicked at the sand. He was a cad for leaving.