The English Duke

by Karen Ranney

The concoction Dr. Reynolds had given him was for the worst nights, but he hated taking the stuff. It gave him horrendous nightmares and made him lose his sense of self. If he had to, he would take it, but only after he’d tried everything else.

  An hour later he was sweating and exhausted, but Henry’s manipulation of his leg had beaten back the worst of the pain. At least his leg wasn’t cramping any longer. Nor was he afraid he was going to start whimpering out loud.

  For tonight, at least, he wouldn’t take the elixir. But neither was he going to push himself to attend dinner. The York women would simply have to do without him. Reese would have to take up the slack and be his usual charming self.

  Martha sat on the chair beside the bed in her sister’s room, wondering how much longer Josephine was going to take to get ready for dinner. To her surprise, Josephine hadn’t yet said a word about the boathouse.

  “The silk brings out the color of my eyes,” Josephine said, preening in front of the pier glass. “But do you think it’s too formal?”

  Since Martha was still wearing the lavender dress she’d worn all day she couldn’t find it in herself to answer. It was true, the lovely dark green of the dress was the exact match of Josephine’s eyes, which was why her sister had approved the fabric.

  “How many dresses did you bring with you?” she asked, looking at the discarded garments strewed across the bed.

  Amy would be forced to hang them and, no doubt, ensure they were pressed first.

  Josephine didn’t say anything, but she hadn’t really expected an answer.

  Even though her sister had begun getting ready for dinner hours ago, there was every possibility they would be late.

  Amy had done a beautiful job with Josephine’s hair, allowing little ringlets to fall from an artful bun.

  Her own hair was in dreadful shape, but it always was, especially when she was around a body of water. The humidity made it curl even tighter. The only thing she could do with it was pull it back at the sides and gather it up in a bun at her neck and cover the whole thing with a snood. With any luck it wouldn’t escape and frizz all around her face.

  “If you don’t hurry we’ll be late,” she said.

  If the duke thought Josephine lovely before, he would be in awe of her beauty tonight.

  “We don’t want to be rude,” she added.

  “Let him wait. He’ll think it worth it.” Josephine smiled at herself in the mirror. “It’s a pity he’s revolting,” she said.

  “He’s not revolting.”

  “He’s a cripple,” Josephine said.

  “He’s been injured. He’s recovering.”

  Josephine glanced at her in the mirror. “How protective you sound. How many hours did you spend together?”

  “I left a little while after you did.”

  “Did he tell you to leave also?”

  “He didn’t tell you to leave,” Martha said.

  “He as much as did. He was exceedingly rude.”

  “He wasn’t.”

  “You should have had a chaperone with you. A maid, if nothing else. Gran wouldn’t be happy if she knew you spent hours alone with him.”

  “It wasn’t hours, and there was no need of a chaperone. We spent the whole time talking about Father’s work. Or you.”

  “Me?”

  “He thinks you’re lovely.”

  “Does he? What a pity he’s a cripple.”

  “I don’t think you should call people names.” Especially not Jordan Hamilton when he’d done nothing but offer his home to them and treat them like valued guests.

  She was wise enough, however, not to say anything too complimentary about the duke to her sister. If Josephine knew how she felt about the Duke of Roth, she’d never hear the end of it.

  “I apologize on His Grace’s behalf,” Reese said, meeting them at the bottom of the staircase. “He’s indisposed this evening and won’t be joining us for dinner.”

  “Is he all right?” Martha asked.

  “His leg is bothering him,” Reese said. “But Henry is with him.”

  “Henry?”

  “His valet, but he’s much more than a valet. Henry’s from Sweden and has been educated in sjukgymnast.”

  At her look, he smiled. “It’s manipulation,” he said, “of injured limbs.”

  The fact that Reese had mentioned legs or limbs in their company was shocking, but she was grateful for the information.

  Martha half expected to be led into a parlor where they would converse for a few minutes before dinner was announced. Instead, they were immediately shown to their places in the dining room, helped by two footmen who then promptly disappeared, leaving her and Josephine alone with Reese.

  Reese had changed into evening clothes, making her wish she had something other than her lavender dress to wear. She looked like a drab older relative, someone who might chaperone the two of them.

  She didn’t care. She didn’t even mind that Reese and Josephine talked over her the whole dinner. She sat quietly, lost in her thoughts.

  After a butterscotch pudding was served for dessert, she started to pay attention to the conversation around her. The two of them were involved in a lively discussion of horses.

  “Do you ride, Miss York?” Reese asked Martha.

  “She doesn’t,” Josephine said. “Oh, she does, but not often. I, on the other hand, ride almost every day.”

  She was perfectly able to answer for herself, but she bit back her retort and finished the pudding.

  “Perhaps I could show you the stables in the morning. His Grace has a selection of magnificent horses.”

  “I’ve already seen Ercole,” Josephine said.

  Reese only raised one eyebrow. “You do know your horseflesh,” he said. “He’s the prize stallion in the stable. His Grace has promised him to the Earl of Doncaster. He’s due to be shipped out in a week or so.”

  “Doesn’t His Grace ride?” Josephine asked.

  “No,” Reese said. “What time would be convenient for you to meet me at the stables?”

  Something about his posture made Martha think he was more alert than he’d been earlier. Or maybe on guard.

  What a curious certainty to have.

  “Will the duke be joining us?” Josephine asked.

  “No,” he said, his eyes never leaving her.

  Reese was evidently interested in Josephine, but he might be too worldly for her sister. For all her flirtations, she was still only a few years out of the schoolroom.

  Something about Reese Burthren worried Martha. He had an edge to him, almost as if he was more daring than he let on, standing on the precipice of polite behavior. His gaze was shuttered like a man who had some practice with being who he wasn’t. He was the duke’s friend, but what else was he?

  Josephine might hint at being shocking, but she suspected Reese actually was. He hid it well, however, almost like a spider who dressed like a fly.

  Would Josephine listen if Martha warned her? What could she say that would make any sense? Be careful? I think he fancies you? Josephine would only laugh at her. Besides, it wasn’t the first time a man had admired her sister. But no other man had given her the feeling he wasn’t quite what he seemed, that he had secrets that might be dangerous to know.

  Perhaps she should accompany them, but if she did it would mean she’d have to give up going to the boathouse. Or she could insist on them taking a chaperone, which would be a little hypocritical since she was going to be alone with the duke.

  While she was trying to decide, the two of them arranged a time. Before she could say anything, Josephine stood, smiled at Reese, and turned to her.

  “Shall we retire?”

  She said her good-nights and accompanied her sister up the stairs, but at Josephine’s door she hesitated. She wanted to say something about Mr. Burthren, but before she had an opportunity to speak Josephine closed the door in her face.

  Josephine was annoyed that the duke hadn’t been at dinner, but perhaps there was still a
way to institute her plan.

  She rang the bellpull and asked for Constance when the maid appeared at her door. She’d already paid for the girl’s cooperation and she was willing to pay even more if it meant learning where the duke was. A little money passed about often paid great dividends.

  “He almost always retires to his library at night, miss,” Constance said when Josephine welcomed the girl into her room and closed the door behind her. A simple question about the duke’s whereabouts unlocked a flood of information.

  “But not tonight.”

  “What makes tonight special?” Josephine asked.

  “His Grace is suffering something terrible. It’s his leg, you see. He’ll be with Henry.”

  Unfortunately, that information coincided with what she’d learned at dinner. She was running out of time. They’d be at Sedgebrook for only two more nights, but it looked as if tonight was out of the question.

  She slipped a coin in the girl’s hand and thanked Constance. The maid curtsied and took herself off.

  Josephine closed the door and leaned against it, thinking. Her objective was not thwarted as much as delayed. She wouldn’t see the duke tonight, but she would put her plan into effect tomorrow.

  Chapter 11

  Jordan normally woke with the dawn. He’d always done so, eager to get a start on the day. In the past year, however, his early rising was because he hadn’t slept well. Last night had been a difficult one because he’d refused to take the elixir that dulled his mind yet gave him a respite from the almost constant pain in his leg.

  Dr. Reynolds had not, unfortunately, been able to give him any reassurance the pain would ease. But, then, he’d grown accustomed to ignoring a physician’s recommendations or cautions. Therefore, he wasn’t going to base his hopes on what Dr. Reynolds said or didn’t say. After all, what did the man know? He wasn’t supposed to walk again. The future was like a vast ocean in front of him. He was the one who would plot his course.

  Thankfully, none of his servants were around to watch him descend the grand staircase in a slow but dogged fashion. What he lacked in coordination he made up for in determination. Finally, he was at the bottom and made his way to the Morning Parlor, only to be disconcerted by the presence of Josephine York.

  “You’re up early, Miss York,” he said in greeting.

  He would not allow himself to limp to his favorite chair at the head of the table, but it was close.

  Her dress was a pale yellow, embroidered with bunches of pink-and-purple flowers. For someone who’d been unexpectedly waylaid by her grandmother’s illness, Miss York had a varied and extensive wardrobe.

  He couldn’t help but wonder if Martha was going to wear her lavender dress today.

  “Will your sister be joining us?” he asked.

  The last thing he wanted to encounter first thing in the morning was Josephine’s artificial brightness. She was like a great many women he’d met since ascending to the title. He’d been invisible to them as a naval officer, but the minute he became the 11th Duke of Roth, he was suddenly charming, witty, and erudite.

  That kind of shallowness irritated him on a base level.

  “I’m afraid not,” she said, smiling at him. She gave him a sideways look, no doubt presenting her best profile. Was he supposed to be overcome by her attractiveness?

  He supposed she was pretty, in a way that would fade quickly.

  “Will Mr. Burthren be joining us?” she asked.

  “I suspect not,” he said. “Normally Reese avoids breakfast.”

  “A pity, then. We shall have to entertain each other.”

  He couldn’t imagine a more hideous scenario. What was he supposed to say? Regale her with tales of the latest play he’d attended? He hadn’t left Sedgebrook in a year. Was she bookish? Perhaps he should ask her what she’d read lately.

  “I’ve seen Ercole,” she said. “What a beautiful horse he is. Are you certain you want to sell him?”

  He didn’t want to discuss his brother’s stallion.

  “I can direct you to my factor,” he said. “If you’re interested in the horse.”

  His comment seemed to silence her, at least for the moment.

  He served himself breakfast, his appetite gone.

  Why the hell hadn’t Martha showed up? At least with her he could discuss something that interested him. Even their silences were more comfortable than what he was experiencing at the moment.

  Martha didn’t simper at him, either. She didn’t act coy. And she most assuredly did not stink up the room with some ghastly perfume smelling of dead flowers in a hothouse.

  Had Josephine no idea of how overpowering the scent was?

  “We missed you at dinner last night, Your Grace.”

  “Yes.” He wasn’t going to go into why he hadn’t been in attendance.

  But she, however, was not to be denied.

  “I understand you didn’t feel well.”

  Good God, was the woman going to pry even further? Common decency would have silenced most people before this, but Josephine evidently thought herself above the fray.

  “Have you always been lame, Your Grace?”

  He turned his head slowly, regarding her like he would if she was an experiment gone awry in a way he hadn’t expected.

  She was smiling faintly, her green eyes soft. No doubt she thought her beauty gave her license to say anything she wished. Had she no inner barrier? No sense of decency? Or, at the very least, no concept of decorum?

  “No, Miss York,” he said, the words spoken with studied care. “I haven’t always been ‘lame,’ as you say. It’s a recent acquisition of mine.”

  He stood, desperate to leave the room and be quit of Josephine York. This time, he didn’t give a flying farthing if he limped because he held his walking stick almost like a club. If nothing else, if she approached him, he’d brandish the damn thing like a weapon.

  Martha woke late, drank her tea in her bedroom, skipped breakfast, and went straight to the boathouse.

  Her eagerness was unseemly, no doubt. If anyone had asked, she would’ve told them she wanted to help the duke. She might even say her assistance was something her father would’ve wanted.

  The fact that the Duke of Roth was an extraordinarily handsome man did not enter into her thoughts.

  Yesterday, he’d asked her questions and seemed to value her opinion. She had the feeling, if someone annoyed him, he would make his thoughts known, regardless of whether the individual was male or female.

  Look at how he had behaved around Josephine.

  When she was almost at the boathouse, her footsteps slowed. Would he be there? Or would his leg be paining him? Did he ever stop working because of his discomfort? Would he welcome her? Or would he ask her to leave?

  She had too many questions and no answers.

  Still, she was cautious when she opened the door and peered inside.

  He was already there, sitting at the workbench, the morning sun making the window beside him glow with golden light.

  She stood there for a moment.

  The lingering scent of water and fish perfumed the air. Another odor reached her, something reminding her of the flux her father used when closing a seam. There was no fireplace here, only a small unlit brazier in the corner.

  He glanced toward the doorway.

  “Are you coming in?” he asked. “Or are you going to stand there gaping at me?”

  “I don’t gape,” she said, entering the boathouse. “I might stare,” she added. “Or peruse. But gaping implies awe and I’m rarely awed.”

  He half turned to watch her walk toward him.

  “Have you nothing else to wear? Your sister seems to have planned for this extemporaneous visit. She was in another dress at breakfast.”

  “You had breakfast with her?” she asked, surprised. “Josephine normally doesn’t rise early.”

  “It’s because I’m a duke,” he said.

  The comment startled her.

  “You breakfas
ted with my sister because you’re a duke?”

  “She went out of her way to breakfast with me,” he said. “It’s the title. It has a life of its own. I often think of it as a ghost, a filmy specter folding around me like a cloak.”

  He glanced at her, his smile slightly crooked. “I haven’t the slightest idea why I told you that. I’ve occasionally thought it, but I had no intention of confessing the notion. The fact is, people sometimes go out of their way to accommodate me, simply because of my title. I suspect your sister is one of those people. You aren’t.”

  “How do you know I’m not? Perhaps I wasn’t hungry this morning.” She wasn’t going to tell him that she woke late, that her night had been filled with dreams of him.

  “By the fact that you’re arguing and not trying to charm me,” he said.

  He really shouldn’t smile at her. It did something to her insides.

  And she has her sights set on you, Your Grace. Perhaps she should have warned him about Josephine, but what good would it do?

  “Is that the only dress you have?” he asked. “Or perhaps you just like lavender.”

  “I have my dark blue traveling dress,” she said, finding it odd to be discussing her wardrobe with the Duke of Roth. “It has an overskirt and a small bustle. It’s fancier than this one, but if this dress offends you, I can always change.”

  “Oh, but that would be accommodating me. Perhaps even making an effort to charm me.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. “True.”

  “Did you simply not plan for this extended visit?”

  “No,” she said, approaching the workbench. She pulled out the stool and sat on it. “But Josephine has a greater interest in fashion than I do. I’m not surprised she packed more garments than she needed. We only planned to visit with you long enough to deliver my father’s bequest, then stay at an inn and return to Griffin House the next day.”

  He sent her a sharp look. “How is your grandmother feeling?”

  When she’d seen Gran this morning, she’d been sitting up in bed, eating her breakfast with a hearty appetite.

  “Better. I don’t doubt we shall be leaving in a day or two.”