The Duke's Wager: Defiant Brides Book 1

by Jennifer Monroe

  Mr. Crombly grabbed James’s arm as he turned to leave. “Thank you,” he said. He looked down at his hand, realized that he was touching a man who was now a Duke, and quickly removed it and ran it through the wisps that were left of his hair. “I honestly have no idea what came over her. She was all smiles when we were dining with you. My wife and I assumed she had accepted our agreement…”

  James understood the smile Sarah had used that night, and it did not send the same message her parents received. It was the same smile the defiant girl gave when she would remove the saddle from the horse and attempt to ride bareback. Or when she would show him a book she had sneaked out to read. That was the same smile he saw at dinner when they came to visit.

  “I will go now to prepare to look for her. The next time you see me, know I will return her to you as safe as when she left.”

  Mr. Crombly nodded, and then James stepped out the door and hurried down the path toward the stable where his steed, Thunder, was waiting. Worry guided his steps and though he tried to remain calm on the outside, inside he was anything but. Sarah was strong and defiant, yet she did not know the world and the characters it contained. Her skills would only take her so far before trouble came.

  Untying his horse, he glanced over when he heard a noise behind him. When he turned, a large woman stood staring at him, her eyes wide and her fingers white from how tightly she held a handkerchief. Mildred had not changed one bit since he was a child, and that brought a smile to his face. She had been like a second mother to Sarah, and James knew she would be worried. Something in her eyes, however, had him wondering what secret she held.

  “Hello, Mildred,” he said in a soft voice. “Do you remember me?”

  She nodded. “I do, My Lord. But you were just a young lad the last time I saw you.”

  James chuckled. “That I was.” He glanced down at the handkerchief that threatened to cut off all circulation in her fingers. “Is there something bothering you?”

  She shook her head quickly, much too quickly in James’s opinion. She knew something, and he moved cautiously so as not to scare her. “Do you know where Sarah is by chance? I am worried for her and only want to see her safely returned.”

  She bit at her lip. “I believe I do,” she said, and then tears ran down her cheeks, “and I think it is all my fault.”

  James placed a hand on her arm in an attempt to comfort her. What was it with women and their need for tears? “I doubt very likely that any of this is your fault. Just tell me what you know and I will show you that it is so.”

  She glanced around fearfully and lowered her voice. “I fear I will lose my position and my home if I do. I do not want to end up a beggar.”

  “What you tell me will be for my ears only. It will never leave my lips. You have my word as a gentleman and a Duke. If you know where she is, you must tell me.”

  Mildred sniffled and rubbed her hand under her nose. “She came to me a few days ago, asking me about my life before I came here.”

  James nodded in encouragement when she paused.

  “I told her how I met David, my husband, when I lived in a village along the coast, a portal village. I told her all about the Horse and Plough and my life working there. Perhaps I made it sound much more romantic than it truly was. But who would have thought she would run away, let alone to a place I happened to mention?”

  “And where is this Horse and Plough located?” James urged.

  She looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. “Weymouth, My Lord.”

  James was familiar with Weymouth, his ships docking there when goods needed to be delivered to that area of Dorset. It was a village that had as much romanticism as a stall and offered an array of seedy pubs and seedier men who appeared to have the brains of gnats. Brainless as they might seem, however, those same men have scruples lower than the deepest depths of the ocean and would not hesitate to take advantage of a lone woman, especially one as beautiful and innocent as Sarah. She had never traveled farther than her father’s house in Cornwall, how on Earth was she to make it to Weymouth on her own?

  He kept these thoughts to himself, however, in an effort to keep Mildred calm. “Thank you, Mildred. You have been a great help. And worry not; we will have Sarah back home where she belongs in no time. You know how clever she can be.”

  Mildred nodded, and though worry was still etched on her face, she smiled at James. “Thank you, My Lord. Sarah is lucky to have you as the person searching for her.”

  James mounted Thunder, glad he finally had a lead as to where to search for his mischievous bride-to-be.

  “Am I in trouble, My Lord?” Mildred asked.

  He gave her a comforting smile. “No, not at all. You have done a great service. Be proud you have helped bring her home safe.” Doubt crept on her face, so he added, “As I said, this will remain between us two. No one will know, not even Mr. and Ms. Crombly. That I swear to you.”

  She smiled and bobbed an awkward curtsy. “Thank you, My Lord.”

  A moment later he was off, his heels pressed into Thunder’s flanks to convey the urgency of their mission. Once they passed the gates of Greystone Estate, he pushed the horse harder toward the port-side village of Weymouth. Sarah had several hours on him, but James would catch up to her. He was sure of it.

  ***

  Sometime later, James stopped at a creek to allow Thunder a moment of rest. As the horse drank, James, too, cupped his hands and brought the cool water to his lips. He had been riding hard, although he did not for how long, which was unlike him. He relied on his pocket watch to keep him on a strict schedule at all times, but in his haste, he had left his watch on the table beside his bed. The sun was well past its zenith, so it had to have been several hours since he left Greystone manner. It had been years since he had ridden this hard, and though his mind had plenty of memories of doing as such, his body did not seem to remember at all. As a matter of fact, it currently screamed at him in opposition.

  Stretching out the stiffness in his back and legs, he walked a quick clip to bring the blood back into his aching limbs as Thunder turned to chew on a tuft of grass growing on the bank of the creek. He looked across the rolling hills and his eyes fell on a small cottage in the distance. Although it was too far away to see if anyone was outside, he found himself wondering if the people who lived there were in love and if the husband loved the wife as much as he loved Sarah.

  He silently vowed that, once he found her, he would return her to her parents at Greystone Estate. Then he would tell her exactly what was on his heart. It was time he made amends for his actions all those years ago.

  “What will I do if she rejects me once again?” he whispered to Thunder as if expecting the horse to give him an answer. Though the thought of her once again refusing him was terrifying, he steeled himself for it nonetheless. She had to know the truth. There were many possibilities as to how to share his feeling with her once she returned; however, before he could decide which was best, he had to find her.

  “Come, Thunder,” James said as he grabbed the reins that hung down to the ground, “I need your strong legs to carry me further.” Placing his foot in the stirrup, he mounted with practiced ease. He patted the horse on the neck and then pressed his heels into the horse’s flank.

  For hours he rode and though he was tiring, as was his horse, James continued to ride as the sun above him began to set. With each passing hoofbeat, he prayed silently for the light in the sky to remain just a bit longer. The hills passed by quickly, the large trees providing shade to the creatures that rested beneath them or were readying themselves for the night. The wind lifted his coat and cooled him. Dust clouds kicked up behind him, a sign of the road he had already traveled. However, a path of love for Sarah lay before him, and he urged Thunder on.

  Chapter Eight

  The village of Weymouth was nowhere near a village as far as Sarah was concerned. A steady stream of traffic ambled its way along the road, lines of carriages struggling to move ahead as riders a
nd walkers wove between them. The noise was deafening, and Sarah wondered where that pleasant port was about which Mildred had spoken. Instead of the beautiful village she had expected, what she found was a dark, dingy city with mud-filled streets and loud and boisterous citizens shouting at one another with angry words and foul language. A door swung open and two men flew out, fists flailing and pummeling as people gathered around to cheer them on.

  Sarah urged Molly on, who seemed to be as terrified as she. To her right lay lines of docks, large ships held by boats bobbing in the murky water, and Sarah wondered if her hero was on one of them, waiting to disembark and come searching for her and sweep her off her feet.

  Horror stories raged in her head, however, of men searching for women to kidnap and force into slavery or to take as their wives.

  Much like the situation from which I escaped, she thought. It was a good thing she was of a strong continence or she would have easily fainted on the spot just thinking about it.

  She had not slept well the previous night, the ground not as comfortable of a bed as she had romantically thought it would be. She stifled a yawn, which she hid behind her hand. Despite the exhaustion that plagued her, the fear mixed with a bit of excitement kept her alert.

  Too afraid to stop and ask the burly and cold-eyed men where to find the Horse and Plough, Sarah instead wandered along the stretch of street that spanned the area of the docks, remembering that Mildred had mentioned the pub was located where the woman could look out upon the ships and watch the crews disembark. It was just before noon when she finally saw the sign, an image of a horse pulling a plow hanging above a dilapidated door. At least no men were stumbling out with fists flailing as they had been at the pub when she first arrived. That had to be a good sign, did it not?

  A young boy sat on the stoop just outside the door, his bright red hair unkempt and dirty, as was his freckled face.

  Sarah sighed as she dismounted. She had finally made it, and she felt a great sense of accomplishment. “Good day, young sir,” she said as she took the boy’s hand in a firm handshake. The boy grinned, showing a gap large enough to ride through where his two front teeth should have been. Sarah imagined no one had ever addressed him as a sir before. When she released his hand, she subconsciously wiped it on the skirt of her dress.

  “Hello,” he said without standing, the only movement coming from the hand he used to shade his eyes as he looked up at her.

  “Would you mind taking care of my horse while I conduct some business inside this fine establishment?”

  The boy turned back to the pub and then looked back at her, a confused look on his face. “Um, yes, I can keep an eye on her,” he replied, appearing at first confused about what she was asking of him. “You can pay me when you leave.” No, he understood quite well what she was asking. He walked down a short alleyway that led to the back of the pub, Molly in tow, probably where the stables were located, or so Sarah figured.

  Sarah looked skeptically at the front door. Although it was not what was anticipated, she was there, so there was no other choice than to get on with her plans. She straightened her back, raised her chin, and pushed on the door only to walk into it. She stared at the wooden obstruction and then realized that she needed to pull the door to get it to open.

  With a shake of her head and a nervous chuckle, she glanced around to see if anyone noticed her mistake, and when she realized no one was laughing at her, she pulled the door open and went inside.

  It took several moments for her eyes to adjust to the dark interior, and when she could see, several pairs of wide eyes stared back at her, all men with friendly smiles.

  “All right, Sarah,” she said to herself, “you are a common woman now. Act as such.” She made her way down the middle of the room, passing several tables of men, some stopping their conversations to watch her while others ignored her as they laughed uproariously and lifted their pint glasses and clanked them together. It was nothing like she had ever seen before, and she caught herself slowing and staring in amazement at their brash behavior.

  She reached a long counter behind which stood a man of about thirty, a dirty cloth washing out an equally dirty glass and a single eyebrow raised as he eyed her.

  “What can I do for you?” the man asked, his eyes roaming over her as if she were a horse being considered for purchase. Sarah wanted to tell him to behave like a gentleman, but she remembered she was a common woman and decided to simply ignore him.

  “I would like to speak to Peter, if I may,” she said with a confidence she did not feel. She glanced to her side, and an older man sat on one of the stools grinning at her like a fool. Perhaps it was the effects of the alcohol causing them to do it, but it seemed that every man had his eyes locked on her every time she looked at any of them.

  “Peter is it?” the bartender asked, placing his hands on the bar and leaning forward. “And who do I tell him is asking after him?”

  “Tell him that Sarah is here on behalf of Mildred,” Sarah said, wishing she knew the woman’s surname. “And if I catch your eyes wandering again, I will poke them out!”

  Several of the men within hearing distance roared in approval, some of them going so far as to slap a hand on the table.

  “Of course, My Lady,” he said with a chuckle before walking toward a swinging door behind the bar.

  As she waited, she took another moment to look around the pub. It was quite large with many tables, most of which were filled. Most shouted rather than spoke to each other, the words oftentimes curses Sarah had heard before, as well as a few she had not but made her face heat up nonetheless. Once white walls now were covered in coal dust, probably having never been washed since the place was opened. Several sconces hung from the walls and posts throughout the large open room making halos of light that did little to brighten up the place. Even the large windows on either side of the front door were covered by soot, blocking out what light could have make the room seem less dingy. It certainly needed a good cleaning, much like the men who patronized the place.

  Several men were playing cards at one of the tables in a back corner.

  Men and their gambling, she sniffed, the sight angering her more than it would have before the horrible incident that sent her running away.

  “Yeah?”

  Sarah turned to find a man with dark silver hair on his head, and eyebrows so massive, she wondered if they were one single piece. It reminded her of a caterpillar she once saw as a child, all fuzzy and furry. “Are you Peter?” she asked dubiously.

  “Do I know you?” he asked with narrowed eyes as he tilted his head at her.

  “Well, no, you do not know me. However, I am sure you remembered Mildred, do you not?”

  The single eyebrow went up and he laughed. “I do, though it’s been some years since she’s been around here. How is the old burd?”

  “She is well. As happy as ever.”

  The man nodded but said nothing. After several awkward moments of silence, Peter asked, “Is there something else you wanted? If not, I have quite a bit of work to do before the pub gets busy.”

  Sarah glanced around the pub. If this was not busy, she was not sure she wanted to know what it was like when it was. “May I have a word?” she asked and then took another look around. “In private if possible?”

  He gave her a conflicted look and then sighed heavily. “Very well. Follow me.” He led her through the swinging door and down a short hallway to a small room that contained a simple wooden desk, two chairs, and a tiny window with smudges in the middle of the glass pieces as if someone had attempted to clean them at some point in recent history.

  He offered her one of the chairs, which she took with some skepticism as to whether or not it would hold her. She was pleased when it did not collapse under her.

  “Now, how may I help you?” he asked as he took the remaining chair that sat behind the desk.

  “I am seeking employment,” Sarah said, giving him her best smile. The place needed brightening up
and she knew her smile was exactly what it needed.

  “I see,” he said with an almost bored tone to his voice to which Sarah did not take kindly. “Have you had experience working in a place like this before?”

  She shook her head, her heart dropping.

  “Do you have any work experience at all?”

  “Well, I have helped tend my…” she started to say, then caught herself almost giving away about working her family garden. She certainly did not want the man to know she came from money. Plus, she doubted highly that he would believe that talking to Mildred as she worked was truly a form of work.

  “I have a full staff,” Peter said as he stood. “I really don’t need another.”

  “Oh.” Sarah’s mind churned as she attempted to think of a way to convince this man that, indeed, he needed her. It took her only a matter of seconds before an idea formed, and she said, “You see, sir, Mildred is my mother. She is the one who sent me to you.”

  The caterpillar above the man’s eyes rose once again. “Is that so?”

  Sarah nodded, hoping she did not look too guilty. “The truth is, my parents were killed by pirates on one of their journeys to Africa delivering food to the poor as a part of their charitable works.”

  Peter sat back in his chair, more than likely in wonder at the bravery and giving hearts of her made-up parents. “Is that so?”

  “Yes,” she replied, attaching her best sad face, which was difficult given the excitement she felt in sharing her story. “I was quite young at the time, only eight years of age. Of course, I was devastated, as you can well imagine, left alone to wander the streets in search of food and shelter. Then one day, as I lay under a bridge, hungry and freezing with only an old cloak to keep me warm, Mildred and David came upon me and took me into their home. They clothed me and fed me and raised me as their own.”

  “Pirates you say?”

  Sarah shook her head in wonderment. “Pirates. The beasts were never found, but there are rumors they are still pillaging these very shores.”