Son of a Duke

by Jessie Clever

  Nathan looked down briefly as if to see what it was she had done with their fingers, but he looked up quickly.

  "Sometimes it is. Other times, it can get rather complicated."

  "But you shall find Samuel?"

  She did not know why she asked the question. It seemed ridiculous to question him when he would at any moment head into danger to follow the only clue they had as to her son's whereabouts.

  "Yes, Nora, we will find him," he said, squeezing her hand one more time before standing.

  Nora looked down at her hand now resting on the fine crimson fabric of her borrowed gown. It looked lost and alone suddenly without his hand holding it. Nathan moved away from the sofa in the direction of the door. She heard his footfalls grow fainter as the distance between them grew greater.

  She stood.

  "Nathan. Wait."

  Nathan turned around on his way to the door, surprise showing on his face. He bent his head as she came right up to him. Her heart thundered in her chest, feeling as if it may break directly through her skin at any moment. Her breathing was shallow and sporadic. Her hands grabbed fistfuls of her skirt to keep from shaking.

  "Be careful. Please," she said and kissed him.

  She did not know if she felt resistance from Nathan or merely surprise, but when his arms came around her, pulling her against his body, she decided she felt neither. Her hands came up, bracing herself against his solid chest. She felt his heart pounding beneath her fingertips, a beat strong and erratic to match her own. He deepened the kiss then, her head falling back along his arm as he slid one hand up to cup her cheek. She wanted to cry at the sheer gentleness of his gesture, how precious he must find her to treat her with such care. But just as quickly, he eased her away, his hands dropping to his sides as he leaned his forehead against hers. Their heaving breaths mingled, and Nora worried she may faint. After everything the day had brought, she found it ironic that it would be Nathan's kiss to bring her down.

  "I will be careful, Nora," he whispered, cupping her cheek once more in the barest of touches.

  And then he turned and left, leaving Nora all alone in her borrowed gown.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Alec watched his brother from his seat opposite him in the carriage. He noticed the tension in the other man's face, the way his jaw kept clenching almost imperceptibly, the tightness of his shoulders. His brother watched out the window as the scenes of London moved past, one row of townhouses after another. One sidewalk full of people blurred into the next. Finally, his brother looked at him and noticed his careful gaze.

  "What?" Nathan asked.

  "Bastard," Alec said.

  Nathan raised an eyebrow.

  "And to what do I owe that term of endearment?"

  Alec shrugged.

  "What are you doing with the infallible Miss Eleanora Quinton?" Alec asked.

  He may have just laughed at his brother's obvious predicament, but he was growing to care for the infallible housekeeper, and he would not see her reputation sullied.

  "Oh," was all Nathan said before returning his gaze to the window.

  Alec waited patiently. If there were something truly bothering Nathan, he would get around to speaking of it eventually. Alec would not press him.

  Finally, Nathan shook his head.

  "I do not know," he whispered.

  "Do you want to talk about it?" Alec asked, wondering why his brother would suddenly become reticent when they had discussed any number of weightier topics in the past. Perhaps the matter of Elenora Quinton ran deeper than Alec believed.

  "I do not know what there is to talk about," Nathan said.

  Alec frowned.

  "There most certainly is something to talk about," he said and then shut his mouth, having regretted the sentence as soon as he had spoken it. He did not know what it was that plagued his brother and proclaiming that he knew there was something amiss just made him appear foolish.

  Nathan's head swung around though.

  "Of course there is. But I do not know what it is."

  Alec did not speak. He had never seen Nathan like this. Nathan had a casual affair maybe once a year. He had always talked about them. He did not brag, but they were not a secret. And now he did not know what to say? The matter of Elenora Quiinton truly did run deeper than he had believed.

  Nathan turned back to the window while Alec worried.

  "I just want to take care of her," Nathan finally said, his voice so soft the rattling of the carriage almost drowned it out.

  The carriage hit a practically deep rut, and Alec almost was thrown off the bench because he was concentrating so hard on Nathan's statement.

  "What do you mean by take care of her? You mean, because someone is trying to kill her and they have kidnapped her son?"

  Alec hoped that is what Nathan meant, but a little trickle of dread had started at the base of his neck and began to work its away into a pounding at his temples. "You have only known the woman a mere week at most."

  Nathan continued to stare out the window.

  "I know, but there is something..." his voice trailed off, but Alec's worry grew despite the silence.

  "Something?" he finally prompted.

  Nathan nodded at the window.

  "There is something about her that makes me think of family," Nathan said.

  The worry was now a pounding along his brow. The matter of Elenora Quinton ran deep indeed.

  "What are you going to do?" Alec asked.

  Nathan looked at him.

  "I do not know. I can barely take care of myself. How am I to take care of her and Samuel?"

  Alec let the carriage roll over a few more ruts before responding.

  "Father would help," he said.

  Nathan did not respond, but he did not need to. Neither of Richard's sons would ask their father for help. Richard would give it without a thought, but the sons were too proud to ask.

  So that left the sons bouncing around in a carriage in silence on their way to a gaming hell by the wharf at three o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon.

  "How is Sarah?" Nathan abruptly asked.

  Alec looked down at his hands, fumbling with his thumbs.

  "I am sorry," Nathan said.

  Alec nodded. "Me, too."

  ~

  The Four of Clubs looked like something a cat had retched out of its stomach.

  Mold oozed from around the stones that constructed its base as they were constantly blasted with salt watery air. The door was large, wooden, cracked and tilting to one side. The windows that were on the front were blacked out with dark material. A man, limping on a wooden stick, missing one leg and with a coat torn around the hem, knocked on the door and waited. The door opened a crack, and the man with one leg spoke. The door opened wide enough to let him shuffle in.

  Nathan and Alec leaned away from the window of the carriage.

  "This might be a problem," Alec said watching the door close on the one legged man.

  "Whoever is doing this knows who I am," Nathan said.

  Alec nodded.

  "If you try to go inside and they are in there, they will recognize you surely."

  Nathan looked at Alec, and he could tell that Alec was thinking the same thing as him.

  "I believe this is the one time that our similarity will bite us in the ass," Nathan said.

  Alec looked down at himself and then studied Nathan.

  "Maybe not."

  "How do you figure?" Nathan asked.

  "They are expecting you to look like that." Alec pointed at Nathan's greatcoat and muddy boots. "They are not expecting you to look like this." He then pointed to his own fine attire.

  Nathan nodded.

  "Strip," he said and began to unbutton his greatcoat.

  Minutes later Nathan felt the bile rise in his throat when something resembling a human being opened the door of the Four of Clubs.

  "Wata ye want?" it asked.

  Assuming it was English, Nathan responded. "Afternoon. I have
come to rid myself of a lot of money." Actually, between he and Alec, they had managed five pounds. But It did not have to know that.

  It nodded and held open the door.

  Nathan drew a last breath of fresh air and plunged into the crowded gaming hell.

  ~

  Alec thought he could climb that.

  Nathan's greatcoat billowed around him in the breeze behind the Four of Clubs, and Alec suddenly wanted his hat back. His ears were cold.

  The open window was on the second floor. He could climb not so rotted looking crates, use the drainpipe for leverage to the hole in the crumbling rock of the building and then just one last heave into the window. He could do it.

  So he did.

  The hole in the crumbling rock was slightly smaller than it looked from the ground. He struggled to wedge his boot in it. The drainpipe creaked ominously, and Alec tried to remember a prayer. Then his boot caught, and Alec heaved in the direction of the open window. He flew, less than gracefully, over the ledge and into the worst stench he had ever experienced. Beer, smoke, and way too many bodily fluids mixed together. He stuck his head back out the window, gasping.

  And then he heard a voice. A small voice. A voice that said, rather politely, that it had to use the chamber pot.

  Alec brought his head back in and looked around. The hallway was dark, and the floor was sticky as Alec shifted his boots. There were three doors to the right and a stairway to the left. Which door was the lucky one?

  He tried a step on the sticky boards, and when no creaking erupted, he took another one. Pausing in front of the first door, he listened. A woman was breathily asking someone to do something to her harder, so Alec moved quietly to the next door. This door was silent. Alec moved to the last one. He heard some shuffling. There was a pause. More shuffling. Alec waited.

  Finally a voice came. "Aren't ye done yet?"

  The response was too muffled for Alec to hear it, but he did not need to. He grabbed the knob and found it loose. He swung open the door, beaming whoever was standing behind it. The man was thrown into the wall and lost his balance. On his way down, he tried to draw the pistol stuck in his trousers. Alec searched for something to knock the man out with.

  "Here." A heavy wine bottle was stuck in his hand.

  Alec brought it up and swung it before the man could dislodge the pistol.

  The man grunted and passed out.

  Alec looked down at his side.

  "Thank you," he said to the boy beside him.

  The boy backed up. "You are not Nathan."

  Alec saw the wariness but turned to shut the door first.

  "No, I am not. I am Nathan's brother, Alec." He set the bolt this time, hoping it would hold. The screws were starting to work their way out of the boards of the door though, so he doubted it would hold much.

  The young boy who Alec presumed was Samuel did not speak. Alec glanced over him, attempting not to frighten him. The boy looked to be in solid shape. A bit dirty, but he did not appear to be hurt.

  "Your mother is safe with our father, the Duke of Lofton." Alec kept talking with his voice low, as if soothing a wild animal.

  "You are wearing Nathan's coat," Samuel said.

  "Yes, I am. And he is wearing mine." Alec smiled slowly, trying not to frighten.

  "What are you two doing?" Samuel asked, scrutiny written on his face.

  "Honestly?"

  Samuel nodded.

  "I do not really know," Alec said.

  ~

  Nathan held the mug of ale but was not brave enough to drink it.

  He studied the people around him. Mostly what the gutters had spit back out with the rare gentlemen between them. The gentlemen were not ones that Nathan had ever seen. He wondered as to their reasons for being in such a dive. Then he remembered what he was wearing and wondered even more.

  "Ye lookin' to 'ave some fun, sir?"

  A skinny woman with little hair and less teeth bumped into him, sending ale out of the mug and onto the floor.

  "No, thank you," Nathan said, creeping away.

  He looked around the room again, seeing if there were three big blokes and one nasty little one with red hair grouped together anywhere. A haze of smoke clouded most of the occupants' heads, but Nathan kept looking anyway.

  "Ye be searching a long time, sir, and still not find what quenches ye thirst."

  Nathan looked over at the barkeep.

  "How is that?" he asked.

  "What ye seek isn't here. This hole is merely a stop over on a much longer journey." He paused, filled a mug, and slid it down the length of the bar. "The final stop being Dover, o' course."

  Nathan waited, leery to take the bait. Dover seemed too obvious, and the War Office had it crawling with agents now.

  "But upstairs might slack ye thirst for now."

  Nathan still did not move.

  The man looked left and right before planting his grimy hands on the sticky bar and leaning in.

  "For God's sake, Nathan, get your ass upstairs, get the boy, and then get to Dover. Must I make myself more clear?"

  Nathan almost dropped his mug.

  "Wally?"

  "Shh!" the man shot spittle from his grisly beard. "Gibbs, man, it's Gibbs here."

  Nathan nodded, set down his mug, and walked away from the bar.

  A tiny, red haired man slouched in the corner, watched, and drank from a mug of ale.

  ~

  "He truly is rather good at this sort of thing," Lady Stryden said probably to reassure Nora, but she did not feel like being reassured.

  Nora felt like being rather depressed. First Samuel was taken, and then Nathan went off after him to some dive by the river. She was not open to reassurance.

  The Countess of Stryden had returned to the drawing room rescuing Nora from her own torturous thoughts when the men had left for the gaming hell. The duke and duchess of Lofton had still not returned, and Nora could only imagine what two seasoned spies were discussing in private. Her mind was capable of conjuring up many things at the moment, and she was certain she could formulate an incredible story.

  "Alec is not bad either, come to think of it," Sarah murmured drawing Nora's attention.

  Nora looked up at her. "Oh?"

  "I am not talking about him," Sarah said firmly, moving briskly to refill her teacup. She held the pot up to Nora questioningly.

  "Oh, no thank you. Any more and I may burst."

  Sarah smiled and set the pot down.

  "May I ask you a question, Sarah?" Nora asked.

  Sarah sipped her tea and eyed her warily. "I suppose."

  "Why do you dislike your husband so?"

  Sarah set her cup back into the saucer.

  "I do not dislike him. I loathe him," she said.

  Nora nodded. "Then why do you watch him so closely when you think no one is looking?"

  Sarah choked on her tea, and Nora worried she had overstepped her boundaries. The borrowed gown was giving her a confidence she did not know, and it was going to get her into trouble. But there was something about the Earl and Countess of Stryden that upset Nora. And she wanted the matter resolved.

  "I beg your pardon?" Sarah said, wiping her mouth with a napkin from the tea cart.

  "You watch him," Nora said, "Like you are afraid he is suddenly going to leave. And you want to make sure you catch him, so you can stop him."

  "Alec is not going to leave," Sarah said.

  Nora smiled.

  "I never said he was."

  Sarah set her cup on the table between them and leaned back to look at the ceiling.

  Nora waited, listening to the fire in the hearth, studying the shelves of fine intricate China figurines that surrounded the drawing room, hearing the tick of the clock.

  Finally Sarah spoke. "He is going to leave, and I do not know when."

  "How do you know?" Nora asked.

  Sarah brought her head back down and looked at Nora. "He deserves better than an orphan for a wife."

  "I
beg your pardon?"

  "I am an orphan. A whore's accident." Sarah swallowed with difficulty. "The offspring of whores do not marry earls."

  "Why not?" Nora asked. She, of course, knew exactly what Sarah meant, but she wanted to hear Sarah say it.

  "They just do not," she said, standing up to pace.

  Nora watched her make a few passes before speaking again.

  "Why do you think that?"

  Sarah did not stop to answer. "I just know it. It is what everyone tells you everyday while you survive on porridge and Bible verses."

  Nora did not know what to make of that statement, but for some odd reason, she thought she could relate.

  Nora said, "And you think everyone else is right?"

  Sarah did stop now and faced Nora. "Everyone is right on this."

  "I do not think so," Nora said, and stood herself, walking over to Sarah. "I think you need to tell him."

  "Tell him?" Sarah asked, backing warily away.

  "You need to tell your husband that you love him."

  Sarah turned her back and walked to the other end of the room.

  "I beg your pardon, Miss Quinton, but I do not believe it is your place to give me advice regarding my relationship with my husband."

  Nora swallowed, feeling a slight touch of misgiving creep up her spine.

  "Oh, but someone must give you advice, darling, before you are both dead and unable to tell each other how you really feel."

  Nora and Sarah both looked at the door where Jane stood on the arm of the Duke of Lofton. Nora looked back at Sarah in time to see the other woman's face go instantly red.

  "I do not believe I understand what you are speaking of," she said, hurrying to sit in a chair clearly so she could face the empty fireplace instead of the rest of the occupants in the room.

  This time the Duke of Lofton spoke.

  "We all know you two love each other. Why you cannot get along is anyone's guess, but it would help smooth the waters between our little group if you two would just get over it already. Love happens. You can deal with it. We all do."

  Nora was surprised by the boldness of his words, but why she had expected anything different from a duke she did not know. The matter was quite simple. Sarah was in love with her husband but for some reason was unable to express it, which led to the situation the two were currently in. A kind of truce that was not all that pleasant for the people around them.