Son of a Duke

by Jessie Clever

  But the feel of her body against his radiated through him like nothing ever had, and he feared he would never be rid of that memory. It would plague him for the many long, dark nights his life held ahead of him. And for now, he needed to find Samuel.

  The boy was smart and pragmatic. He knew more about life than Nathan had at his age certainly and probably more than he cared to admit now. But he was still a child, and he would think on emotion more often than not. Nathan had to get to him before something made Samuel react unknowingly, causing his captors to respond in kind.

  Nathan surveyed the ground that spanned the distance between the back of the house and the stables, but the solid ground showed no signs of anything that had transpired mere moments before. The lack of rain was not helpful. Not a drop for near on three days.

  While Michael continued toward the stables, Nathan turned abruptly, looking back at the house to find the window that looked into Nora's chambers. It was one of only three on the lower level, and Nathan made his way over to it. He was careful not to look inside. He had left Nora abruptly just minutes before, and although he was certain she had the strength to get through this, he was not so certain he did. The memory of another woman and her sorrow flashed in his mind, and he took a sharp breath. There were certain things that made a woman cry that Nathan could not understand, did not want to understand. For once upon a very long time ago, he had been unable to help another woman's sorrow, and the memory still pained him.

  But even more than the ghost of pain, the idea that he would not be able to help Nora now, help erase the sorrow that hung on her like a heavy cloak, that uncertainty gnawed at his stomach, churning his surety like a violent storm on the sea. He could not let her down.

  He scanned the ground around the window, letting his eyes scan up to the wooden sill and around the frame of the window, but there was nothing. No footprints and no discarded clothing or fibers stuck in the cracked wood of the sill. He turned away from the window in disgust, having no more idea of the size of the men, or woman, they were dealing with. He did not know if they were wearing fine leather Hessians or worn work boots, something that would have helped place the person in a social class that could then be dissected for clues. But Nathan had nothing.

  He walked back to the stables and the cobbled alley that ran between the houses on this block. It was all stone for as far as he could see once he stepped past the small gardens at the back of the house.

  "Did they have a carriage, Michael?" Nathan asked approaching the man as he shuffled his feet just inside the stable.

  Michael sniffed into a handkerchief as he huddled not quite in and not quite out of the stables.

  "Na, sir. Not 'ere they didna. 'Haps down the way further."

  Michael pointed over his shoulder in the direction of the street. Nathan followed the line of the other man's finger and watched the traffic of the street pass across the space between the row of houses.

  Nathan nodded even as he was moving. His boots sent echoes down the length of the alley to come ringing back at him. He watched the ground, saw the places where the cobbles heaved or where they had sunk in. A cat wandered across his path and disappeared completely into a pile of rubbish. He skirted a stack of carts beside the stable of the neighboring house. The carts smelled rather suspicious, and Nathan wrinkled his nose at them even as he kept moving.

  Nathan kicked something with his boot and looked down.

  It was a four of clubs playing card.

  He picked it up and stared at it a moment, turning the card over in his hand several times. And then he ran.

  He made it to the cross street quicker than he thought he would. Traffic suddenly moved directly in front of him, and it surprised him enough to make him stop. He looked around. Fine carriages and the occasional hack. Nathan crunched the four of clubs in his hand and turned back around.

  He almost knocked over the street urchin who had approached him.

  "Beggin' yer pardon, sir, I 'ave a message for ye." The boy held out an empty hand.

  "How much will this message cost?" Nathan gave the boy a look.

  The boy glared right back. "What 'ave ye got in yer pockets, sir?"

  Nathan grabbed the only money he had out of his pocket. It was only a pence, but he did not have to tell the boy that. He made it look like more and held out a closed fist. The boy reached, but Nathan drew the fist back.

  "Message?"

  The boy watched the fist. "The message is stay out o' this. It ain't of yer concern."

  "That it?"

  The boy nodded. "Aye, that's it."

  The boy lunged for Nathan's fist prying it open. The pence fell to the ground. The boy dove for it and stood up.

  "This is it?" the boy squeaked, incredulously.

  Nathan shrugged. "You said what I had in my pockets."

  He turned and walked back to Gregenden House, the four of clubs held tightly in his hand.

  ~

  Nora had been packed for three minutes.

  She had heard the seconds count off in her head. She was at three minutes and thirty-one seconds when Nathan finally came back through the door. She shot out of the chair she had been pretending to sit in, carpetbag beside her like a soldier's rifle.

  Nathan stopped and raised his eyebrows at her.

  "You packed," he said.

  "You told me to pack."

  Nathan nodded, looking none too convinced.

  "You put your hair back." He pointed in the general direction of her head.

  She patted the white hat gently to see if it was in place.

  "Yes, I did." She stopped patting when her hand began to tremble. "Did you find anything?" She asked, although she was not sure she wanted the answer. "Did you find Samuel?"

  She could not decipher the expression on Nathan's face just then. It looked like something, and if not regret, than resignation. It was as if Nathan was preparing himself for something he did not entirely wish to do. For a brief second, Nora felt a pang of uneasiness. It was not as if Nathan was here by choice. He was a professional. He had been sent to complete a job, and then something had happened to escalate the situation, and he-

  Oh god, she had kissed him.

  Nathan would likely have been gone before Samuel had been taken if she had not lingered with him there in her chambers. He would have been out of this situation entirely if it were not for her and her unpredictable emotions. She felt herself shrink inward, and she must have made a motion, because Nathan suddenly stepped in front of her, his hands going to her shoulders. The warmth of his touch burned through her gown, and she welcomed the pressure on her shoulders. She watched him, her breath frozen in her chest.

  "I did not find him, Nora. They were long gone by the time I got out to the stables. However, I believe Samuel left us a clue."

  He released one of her shoulders to dig something out of his pocket. She waited expectantly before he held up a wrinkled playing card.

  "The four of clubs?" she asked when she could see the card.

  Nathan nodded, returning the card to his pocket.

  "Four of clubs," he confirmed, moving his now free hand back to her shoulder. He squeezed gently. "I just do not know what it means."

  "Why do you think he dropped that card?"

  He watched her, but she could tell he was thinking deeply, not entirely seeing that she stood before him.

  "I do not know, but why exactly did he drop that card and not another one? Was it truly a clue or was the card simply lost in the scuffle? But then why did he not drop all of the cards?"

  Nathan shook his head. "I didn't even see him take this card, let alone any others. So I simply do not know."

  From this angle, the watery light from the window made his eyes appear almost the color of midnight, and she felt her body sway toward him. Without realizing it, his arms slipped lower, coming about her waist as he drew her in. She felt his chin against the top of her head as her body came to rest against his. The comfort and protection she felt in his
embrace was enough to drive tears to her eyes. She held her breath again lest she suddenly start crying.

  Was this what it felt like to have someone protect her? To care for her? Or dare she say, to love her?

  Her hands moved tentatively to his back, but her fingers would not curl into the fabric there. Her loose grip was all she could manage just then.

  "I also received a message," Nathan said then, "From a very greedy street urchin."

  "A street urchin?" she asked, her voice slightly muffled in the front of his coat.

  "Yes. Apparently I am to stay out of this. It is none of my concern, which just confirms my suspicions from earlier."

  He eased her back a bit, and she looked up at his face.

  "Is there something you are not telling me, Eleanora Quinton?"

  His tone was joking, and she was struck that he could be so teasing in a moment like this, but then she felt her heart lift just a bit, and she knew he did it on purpose. Her lips curved the slightest bit, and she saw the responding softness creep into his expression. He was doing this on purpose, and she welcomed the distraction.

  "There is nothing that I am aware of that I am keeping from you. I will not rule out the possibility of me knowing or having something of value that I am not aware of. I do see and hear a lot of things in my position, Nathan Black. I can never know if any of them are of value to another."

  Nathan frowned deeply.

  "That is a good point you make, my lady," he said, his tone playfully serious, but then his expression blanked, and he looked at her more closely. "That is a good point you make," he said again, but this time his tone was wondering.

  "You do not believe that I saw or heard something that I am unaware of?" she asked, "That sounds like something from one of those novels, Nathan. Completely fantastical. Those kinds of things do not happen in real life."

  "Perhaps not," he said, easing her away from him completely, "But it would probably be best for us not to forgot it."

  Nathan reached for her carpetbag. Nora instinctively picked it up first and moved it away.

  "I have got it," she said.

  Nathan raised an eyebrow at her, and Nora felt a flush climbing up her face.

  "I beg your pardon, Nathan. I have never had anyone offer to carry my bag before this," she said.

  She held out the bag. Nathan took it in one hand and held out his other to her. He was not wearing gloves. The two occasions in which she had interacted with him, Nathan had not been wearing gloves. Nor had he worn a hat. Nora stuck her hand in his before she thought any more.

  "Would you like to go out the front or the back, my lady?" Nathan drew her hand through the crook of his elbow.

  "I have never been out the front door," Nora said, and in those words, the weight of what she was about to do descended on her.

  She looked about the room again, at the small beds and the chair she had spent countless nights in. She was leaving. She was leaving all of this, and she had not told a soul. She was simply going to disappear. She pulled her hand from Nathan's grasp.

  "I cannot do this," she whispered, but Nathan was already reaching for her.

  "Nora, you must come with me. You are in danger, and I cannot protect you here."

  The urgency in his voice had her gaze snapping to his. There was something that plagued Nathan Black. Something that he had not told her, but then there were things she had not told him. Not entirely at least.

  "Nathan, I cannot leave my post. How will I find work when we get Samuel back? How will I care for him? I cannot-"

  "My father will take care of it," he said, cutting her off and taking her hand once more.

  He did not pull at her though. He simply held her hand in his.

  "Your father?" she asked, and she suddenly remembered that night when he had told her his father was a duke. "The duke?" she added unnecessarily.

  Nathan nodded. "He will find a post for you. I assure you. Everything will go back to what it was before as soon as this is all over."

  The words brought comfort, but with it came a sting of regret that she could not understand.

  "Would the duke have work for me?" she asked instead of thinking about her sudden feelings of regret. "I know dukes can have advantageous positions in society but-"

  "My father is the Duke of Lofton," Nathan said, and Nora stepped back so quickly her hand came loose from his.

  She knew her mouth was open, but in that moment, she could do nothing about it.

  "Your father?"

  Nathan nodded, his now empty hand hanging in the air between them.

  "Then Jane is...and the Earl of Stryden?" she no longer formed complete questions, but Nathan still nodded.

  Without another thought forming in her head, she stuck her hand back into his.

  "This is a lot bigger than me, is it not? This...situation?"

  Nathan nodded again, and she nodded back.

  "We had best be going then," she said.

  Nathan turned right when they reached the hallway, and Nora walked him to the front door.

  ~

  Alec figured that standing on the front stoop would appear overly anxious. Waiting in the library would be suspicious since he was only ever in there to drink, and noon was too early to imbibe even for him. He had never been in the parlor, and the dining room would obviously look odd.

  So that was why he was waiting at the top of the stairs. He could just see out the second floor window down to the street below. He would wait for her carriage to pull up, see her alight, and then start casually down the stairs. If he were in motion the first time she saw him, it would appear that he was a busy, important man.

  And not like he had spent the entire morning wondering where to be standing when she arrived, what he should be wearing, or even if he should have his valet try to keep his hair off his forehead.

  If he were moving, she would assume that he was actually doing something important.

  Which he was.

  He was trying to make his wife love him.

  When the carriage rolled up out front, he nearly fell down the first stair. Patience. Patience. He had to wait for her to alight. The tiger pulled open the carriage door and first her shoe appeared, a nice, fine, black, traveling shoe. Then pale blue skirt. Then her face, looking up at the house. And then he really did fall down the first stair. He grabbed the banister at the last moment to keep him upright. The fall had dislodged his cravat, and he fumbled with it, trying to get it back into place.

  So that was what he was doing when the front door open, and his wife came home.

  "Problems dressing yourself, my lord? I thought that that was what your valet was for." Sarah's voice was properly impersonal and slightly biting.

  Alec's skin tingled, and his heart beat a little faster.

  She was beautiful. Even more beautiful than the last time he had seen her. Her golden hair was swept up under a hat full of feathers or some such. Her skin was pale and glowing. Her hazel eyes were sharp and cunning. Her mouth, her glorious mouth with its slight overbite. Her little nose that pointed up.

  And her bosom.

  Alec forced his eyes back up to her face.

  He tried to think of something witty, something funny, something intelligent to say, something that would have her so impressed, she would fall at his feet in utter adoration.

  So he said, "Hello, Sarah."

  Her lips parted into a smile, lines forming around her upper lip from the overbite.

  "Hello, Alec."

  Her voice dripped cynicism, and Alec was suddenly deeply depressed.

  Why had he thought things would be different this time? Why had he thought she would see him differently? Why had he thought she would care this time?

  And then his brother came flying through the door and crashed into her.

  Alec fell more than walked down the rest of the stairs. Sarah collided with him, sending them both into the wall. He cushioned her against him, knocking her hat to the floor. Her head came up, almost k
nocking him in the chin. Her eyes were huge, and what looked like uncertainty swam in them. Then she looked at his mouth. Her eyes swooped down for one short, stolen look. Which made him look at her mouth. It was only an inch from his. If he just leaned forward a little bit, he could take that delicious upper lip-

  "I beg your pardon, Sarah. I did not know you were right inside the door," Nathan said from the doorway.

  Alec set his wife away from him and bent to retrieve her hat, letting the blood flow back into his head.

  "It is quite all right, Nathan," Sarah said cheerily enough to make Alec grind his teeth. "How are you?"

  "Fine, thank you, but we seem to have a problem."

  It was that moment that Alec's bumbling butler came careening down the hall from the back of the kitchen.

  "Is everything all right, my lord?" Reynolds gasped, his rotund belly heaving with the exertion of sprinting down the hallway.

  "Quite all right, Reynolds. You may return to your business."

  But Reynolds did not move.

  "Lady Stryden," he said, bowing in Sarah's direction. "It is wonderful to see you again. Might we be enjoying your company for a suitable length of time?"

  Alec was not sure if a more politely worded yet outrageously bold question had ever been asked.

  Sarah merely smirked.

  "That remains to be seen, Reynolds. But I have had a long journey, and I would require some refreshment. It appears we will be having guests as well," here she gestured to Nathan standing with his hand still on the doorknob. "Perhaps a cart in the drawing room?"

  "Of course, my lady," Reynolds bowed again and waddled back in the direction from whence he had come.

  Sarah looked at him then, but he did not have energy to speak to her. Reynolds had asked a very important question. How long did she intend to stay?

  Alec turned back to his brother. "Problem?"

  Sarah also turned her attention to Nathan, and he noticed how still she grew as if her body could absorb bad news more easily if she did not move.