The Reluctant Duke

by Blaise Kilgallen

  * * * *

  Lorena was almost finished recounting the story of their travail, how she’d realized it was Sebastian's son to whom the captain of the Killarney referred, and how she’d planned to stop the coach and throw herself onto Antonio’s mercy. There she paused for breath.

  Lady Elizabeth couldn’t contain herself. “But what’s become of Joshua, Lorena? Where is your son?”

  “We have no son, Grandmother. You’re mistaken,” James interrupted. “I know of no one with that name.”

  Antonio burst into the salon again, startling the occupants. All heads swung in his direction. “James, excuse me everyone, but I must show you something.” Antonio’s tone and manner displayed a fierce, demanding urgency. He carried in his hand what appeared to be a letter and quickly shoved it toward James who took it with a puzzled expression.

  “I thought this was meant for me, but instead, it’s for you.”

  James looked askance at Antonio but took the letter and excused himself, strolling toward the double windows to read it in privacy. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on Antonio.

  “What is it, Antonio?” Lorena asked with an urgent whisper.

  “Is something wrong, Tonio?” queried Caroline, rising from where she’d been sitting and going to lay a hand upon his sleeve.

  Antonio eyed James with intense watchfulness, ignoring both women’s questions.

  James released a shuddering groan as if he were in dire pain. All eyes swiveled quickly toward him. The women were horrified when they heard a grown man sobbing aloud. James bowed his head and covered his eyes with one hand, his shoulders shaking violently. A hand fell to his side as he crushed the letter in his fist.

  Leaping out of her seat, Lorena rushed to her husband and clutched his arm. “James, James, what’s wrong? What happened, my dear? Oh, James, tell me.”

  He brought up the hand holding the wrinkled letter and handed it to his wife without looking at her. She was terribly frightened, seeing James crying, but she was quick to grab the letter from him. As everyone watched, disbelief and joy passed over Lorena’s features as she read the note. She dropped the letter, leaving it to flutter slowly toward the carpet. She threw her arms around her husband, sobbing with him and laughing at the same time. She held him tight as he turned to wrap his arms around her.

  “He’s alive, James! Thank the good Lord, Joshua is alive!” Those were the only words the other astonished occupants could distinguish through the laughter and tears of the Duke and Duchess of Weston.

  Chapter 31

  No one dared to fling questions until Lorena and James regained some composure. Finally, the Dowager broke the stunned silence. “James, come here and tell us what happened,” she demanded in her no-nonsense tone.

  “Grandmama,” Antonio broke in. “Give them a moment, please. I believe what you’re about to hear is very good news.”

  “Well, out with it then, Tonio. If James can’t tell us, you do it. Do not keep us in suspense. My aging heart can’t take too many more of these surprises.”

  Lorena entwined James’s calloused hand with her chapped ones and tugged him over toward the anxious group waiting around the tea table. She squeezed his fingers and smiled, gazing up at her husband. Her cheeks were wet with tears although she was beaming.

  Unembarrassed by his emotional outburst, James dried his eyes with a large kerchief, and coughed into it to clear his clogged throat. He stiffened his shoulders, chin raised, and announced, “Joshua is alive. My son is alive. He is on his way back to us on an English merchant vessel.”

  “What!” Elizabeth flopped back against the cushions of the settee in complete wonderment. Grasping the fan that lay next to her, she waved it rapidly under her nose. “Is there no end to these miracles?” she exclaimed, shaking her head in awe. “Tell us…oh, do tell us, James, how you know this. Is it the letter? Of course,” she went on, thinking out loud. “It must be the letter. What does it say? Read it, Lorena. Read it to us quickly.”

  Breathless with joy and hiccoughing slightly, Lorena handed the letter to Antonio to read.

  Antonio had seen it, recognizing it was written in a childish and untutored scrawl. Smiling, he read it aloud. ‘Dear Momma and Papa. By the tyme you get this I may be in England. Very soon, anyway. Capten Smith told me we mite be there by August if the whether is good. I am anxus to see you becus I miss you and my home. Also my pony, Pip. Yr. loving son, Joshua Thorndyke’

  Uncertain, Antonio looked pointedly at his cousin. “James?”

  “I remember him, Antonio. I remember my son. How could I ever have put him from my mind?” James's tear-streaked face was now bright and happy with excitement and anticipation.

  “We must go back to London immediately. Good God, Lorrie, Josh may already be there. It’s already the fifteenth day of August. We must return at once.”

  “Yes, of course, James,” Antonio agreed. “I’ll have fresh horses put to the traces.”

  He rang for Belmont and gave him instructions for the grooms and the coachman; then he ordered the duke and duchess's baggage returned to the traveling equipage. “Their Graces are returning to London immediately,” he told Belmont.

  “I’m going with you,” declared the Dowager Duchess. “I’ll not let go of you two now that you’re back with us. And I want to see my great-grandson as soon as he arrives. I’ll be a wretched puddle of I-don’t-know-what if I must wait it out here at Westhaven. Tell Belmont to have my maid pack some of my things. I’ll get the rest later. Hurry!”

  Nudging Antonio aside, James asked, “Will you and Caroline come with us, or would you rather wait here, Tony?”

  “That depends, cousin, if you need or want us with you. Can we be of help in London?”

  “Ah…I see,” James replied, studying Antonio’s face. “No, I think not, Tony. You have done more than enough. I believe I’m recovered and can handle this myself. First thing tomorrow morning, I’ll visit my contacts at the Admiralty. Surely, someone’s heard of this Captain Smith and what ship he commands, or perhaps, it’s already docked in London. If not, someone must know when one is due from India.” James’s face flashed a wide, radiant smile at long last. “Damnation! Then, we’ll have Joshua back.”

  “James, I’m really astonished. All along you denied Joshua.”

  “I can't believe it myself, Tony. What was I thinking? Must’ve been a terrible mental block, or guilt, perhaps. To tell the truth, I can only guess it was because I blamed myself for the accident. I was the one who caused him to be taken from us with my lack of competence that day. I…I don’t truly know. I thought I was an excellent sailor. What reason then was it to deny him? I love my boy. He’s my heart and soul.”

  Antonio squeezed his cousin’s shoulder with a comforting hand.

  “I remember him now, Tony, and I won’t forget my son again, I swear it.”

  Caroline joined the two cousins, and Antonio said, “We’re going to stay at Westhaven, Caro, until James sends word.”

  Although dusk started to fall, Lorena, James and Elizabeth were bundled into the ducal coach a second time. Caroline, Briella, and Antonio watched them leave, surrounded by new outriders and fresh horses trotting briskly down the long drive to meet the London Road.

  * * * *

  The Rose Suite, like all the bedchambers at Westhaven, had luxurious bathing facilities. A sunken tub made of rose colored marble was the focal point. It steamed with scented water as Caroline prepared to bathe.

  Antonio sought out Carlos and Mari after the rest of the Thorndykes left. Excited by the news, Briella had already told her Spanish relatives what she’d learned of the rescue and the fate of her cousins’ missing son.

  Tomorrow was time enough to catch up with his relatives on the happenings of their wedding trip, so Antonio begged off eating supper with Briella, Mari, and Carlos. Instead, he ordered a meal brought to his and Caroline’s suite.

  As Antonio entered their chamber, Daisy was gathering up Caroline's traveling dress and laying out
her lounging robes.

  “Where is your mistress, Daisy?” Antonio inquired.

  “In the bathing room, Your Grace…er, sorry, Your Lordship.”

  Antonio chuckled. “It’s rather confusing, isn’t it?” he agreed. “My lord will be fine, Daisy. You may leave us until we ring for supper.”

  When the maid left the room, Antonio turned the key in the lock, removed his boots and walked silently toward the bathing chamber. He heard Caroline humming as she went through her ablutions. He was unbuttoning his shirt as he stepped into the steamy heat of the room.

  “Mind if I join you, my lady?” he asked, pulling the shirt from his breeches and dropping it on the floor. His stockings came off next, and lastly, his breeches and small clothes.

  Caroline marveled, as always, at how finely her husband was made. Straight and tall, a lighted lamp in the small room sculpted the hard contours of his torso and limbs. Antonio stepped into the sunken tub and slid down next to her with a contented sigh. “Alone, at last, esposa. I begged us off for the evening. We need see no one tonight except each other. Does that please you?”

  She snuggled against him in the hot bath water. A finger played in the curly mat of hair on his chest. “Oh, Tonio, isn't it wonderful? Joshua is alive and will soon be home with Lorena and James. I’m so happy for them. I still can’t believe what occurred,” she said, glancing up at him.

  His expression was pensive—almost grave—so much so that he had changed the topic. “Tell me, Caro, are you happy with me? I did pressure you…”

  He looked so sober she dared not tease although she wished to lighten the mood. “Ah yes, my lord,” she answered him earnestly. “You must know by now that I adore you above all else—and will to do so until the end of time,” she pledged. “Don’t you recall I once told you that I’d never do anything I didn’t want to do?”

  “Was that so long ago?” he grinned. “I never would have guessed, or I’d have made sure of it much sooner, querida. You see, I sometimes wonder if you think me…too foreign.”

  She smiled sweetly at him.

  “Ah, yes, but you were truly a mystery. You were so different from others I met, so dark and foreboding… And so intriguingly handsome, wearing your arrogance to intimidate everyone you met, including me. You gave me the scariest of chills.” She grinned.

  “Was I that bad? My father told me to use the duke’s consequence…”

  “Nevertheless, I think I was enamored of you from the time I was thirteen—when you had no consequence at all.”

  Twisting strands of his ebony chest curls, she tweaked them with her fingers, breaking the seriousness of their talk. “You really are a hairy beast, Tatu,” she commented.

  “I enjoy looking at you, too.” He grinned. “And tasting you.” He slid down so that the water reached just below his chin and ended at the twin peaks of her breasts, beaded by droplets of warm water running down from her wet hair. Antonio pulled her around so that Caroline faced him and rested on her knees, hovering above his thighs.

  His gaze captured hers. Grasping her ribs, his thumbs slowly crept upward to caress the sensitive skin beneath the slippery mounds of her breasts. He drew her forward to lick the water from her chest like a thirsty man. On a level with them, ducking down a bit further, Antonio took a hard nipple in his mouth and played with first one, then the other. Caroline inhaled audibly, her hands tightening to hold him to her while she opened her knees wider. Laying her head back, she exulted in the wondrous sensations spiraling from his lips.

  “Caro, ah my Caro,” he murmured against her skin. “You’re delicious, mi corazon. You taste better than any English meal I’ve ever eaten.”

  Even in her passion, she giggled at his foolishness. She grabbed the large sponge floating beside her and dribbled water over his dark head as he suckled. He released a nipple, his hands spreading her thighs, taking her by the hips and lowering her onto his erection. “You, my lady, shall pay for that indignity,” he growled, spouting water. Anticipating his entry, she was quickly filled by his ready cock. She breathed in, his smooth motion impaling her in one smooth thrust.

  Her hands caressed his shoulders. Onyx eyes, half closed behind thick, black lashes, met greenish, sultry ones. He rubbed the sides of her body from hips to breasts, up and down, never losing the connection that joined their bodies.

  “More work for our…family project?” he asked in a husky whisper, igniting her desire with both laughter and his caressing tone. “You remember how to do this, don't you, Caro? Or shall I show you again?”

  “Foolish man! Of course, I remember,” she answered, her eyes like slits as she rose off his penis until it almost emerged from her, then slowly slid down its length again, plummeting to the hilt with a splash of bath water.

  “You do, indeed, remember,” he hissed, his fingers tightening on her hips. He bit her shoulder, nipping like a stallion entering a mare. When he looked up at her, she saw his pupils had grown bigger and blacker, bottomless pools glowing like tiny flames within his passionate gaze.

  Concentrating on his thrusting body, Caroline waited for the tumultuous tempest that would send her into the sensuous world of Antonio’s lovemaking. She squeezed her pulsing inner muscles, riding his steely erection in gyrating rhythm with his moves. The bath water churned and bubbled over the edges of the tub, splashing onto the marble floor. Passion rose and accelerated as their movements grew more wild and urgent.

  Antonio’s one hand left her waist and drifted under the water between their bodies, seeking the responsive nub. Finding it, he stroked. In moments, Caroline tensed, her inner muscles twitching and clenching as they massaged his sex. Lost in a starburst of sensation, head thrown back, nails biting into his shoulders, she called out his pet name. “Tatu, now! Oh yes, yes,” she exulted, over and over again.

  “Yes! Querida, yes!” Antonio soon followed her spasmodic release into euphoria as his body jerked and filled her with his sperm.

  Panting breathlessly together, they reached the exquisite zenith to which they’d grown accustomed. Limp, they now lay back and floated between reality and heaven while the bath water cooled. Antonio’s back rested against the wall of the tub, his hand idly stroking her hair. Caroline’s woman’s core nestled against his groin, their bodies loosely joined, her head lying on his chest with arms dangling over his shoulders as they drifted back from lovers’ paradise.

  “Dios, Caro,” he asked breathlessly. “Do you think we’ve made a son?”

  * * * *

  The twentieth day of August dawned hot and bright in London. The turgid waters of the Thames surged slowly toward the sea as ships anchored on her breast yanked to be free of their chains. Other ships moored securely to the busy quays unloaded treasures from all parts of the known world. Silks and spices from the Orient, exotic fruits and oils from the Mediterranean, sugar and tobacco from the West Indies and North America, gold and silver from South America, exotic goods channeled through the various shipping empires found in England's capital city.

  Only one ship held any interest for the Duke and Duchess of Weston. Its cargo was more precious than any of the fine silks, jewels, spices or other valuables brought here from around the world. It carried their son whom they’d come to bring home.

  It had taken James several days to learn the ship’s name, the Orient Lady, from the Admiralty. No one seemed certain what route the ship had taken, east or west, or when she left India. They could only confirm the ship’s name and the captain’s—Ezra Smythe.

  At first, James waited on London’s docks each day. During that time, he approached a number of shipping offices, but no one could name the ship’s expected arrival.

  “There’s a chance the Orient Lady is out of Bristol, Your Grace, or Dover and not berthed in London at all,” one of the shipping clerks told him when James was unable to garner any specific information.

  That suggestion had James dispatching men to both ports in order to watch for a new arrival carrying a young lad of eight years
on board.

  There was no way he could be sure. Joshua hadn’t mentioned which port of entry.

  “What if something has happened to the ship—or to Joshua? What if there is some mistake? What if he never boarded this Orient Lady you mention?” The distressed duchess badgered her husband insistently. “Oh, James, isn’t there something more we can do? We must find him and bring him home.”

  After another fruitless week, James sent a groom and several footmen to scan the docks daily for information on the ship’s progress, if any. Days dragged on without any sign of the Orient Lady. Lorena was a tangled mass of nerves, awaiting her son’s return. She was pale. Deep purple shadows underscored her blue eyes. She hadn’t eaten or slept properly, and had lost even more weight.

  “Lorena,” the dowager said, trying to comfort her grandson’s wife. “You have been so courageous during these past months. Don’t, my dear, give up now. James is doing what he can, but we must all be patient and keep on praying for Joshua’s safe return.”

  James was worried about Lorena, feeling helpless and concerned that she might break down under stress. He knew only too well that she had been the one who had carried the world on her shoulders those difficult months while they were detained in Ireland. He hugged her close and said, “I wish there was some better news, Lorrie. I’ve visited Whitehall several times without getting any firm answers. I’m told we must simply wait.”

  Finally, on the first day of the third week an excited footman who’d spoken with a sailor, who arrived in London that morning, delivered the news to the duke that the Orient Lady was sighted off Dover. “I was told she’s been seen headin’ fer the Thames, Yer Grace. To a London berth, not Dover. If so, she should arrive later today.”

  The duke thanked the man profusely.

  * * * *

  Lorena and James sat in their carriage, nervous and waiting impatiently for the ship’s appearance. One of the duke’s footmen tapped on the carriage door and pointed with a shaking finger to a large square-rigged vessel maneuvering toward an open space at the wharf.