The Duke's Wager

by Jennifer Monroe

  “I have ridden all night,” James answered in reply, “and I still have a long journey ahead of me.”

  “I gather you’re none too happy about it,” Louise said without looking up from her work. She grabbed for another article of clothing, seemed to catch herself, and quickly looked up. “Begging your pardon. I speak my mind all too often without giving a thought to what I’m saying. Well, at least George tells me as much.” She let out a laugh as she dipped a shirt into the river and returned it to the boulder for another scrub.

  “In all honesty, there are times when being direct is the best,” James said. Once the words were out, he stopped and thought about their meaning. How odd that he would make such a statement when it was not something he truly believed. Yet, he realized, that Sarah did believe in such a manner; her life was built on that logic.

  The woman smiled and returned to her work. James found himself amazed that the woman could be performing such a menial task and yet still seem so joyful. To him, work was a means to gain an income. Yet this woman was not paid, at least not in the conventional sense, and yet she still found joy, or at least seemed to by the way she put all of her attention into the task at hand.

  “Your husband, when he tells you that you speak your mind all too often, does this offend you?” His true desire was to know if such words could be enough to irritate any woman, for had he not said as much, or at least alluded to such a problem, to Sarah? Or course, he could not ask such a question outright. Then he chuckled. “Forgive me for my boldness in asking. Apparently, I too, speak without thought for the impression those words might make.”

  She returned the now clean clothes to the basket, rose, and wiped her hands on her apron. “There is nothing wrong in asking,” she replied, the smile never slipping from her face. “Does it bother me? No, I do not believe so.” She shrugged. “It is what couples do, I suppose.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Annoy each other to no end,” she said with a wide grin. She placed her hand on her hip. “Women can be especially good at finding ways in which to annoy men, wouldn’t you agree?”

  This only confused James further. “I do not understand. You love each other, yet you both admit to being an annoyance to each other? And on purpose? What makes you both continue on?” In his family, each person knew his or her place. His father, as head of the family, made all of the decisions that were of consequence and expected those around him to comply. His mother was left with running the household, as most women of her station did, and would never have considered doing or saying anything which might annoy or otherwise displease the man, or at least James had never seen her do so. She merely agreed and the decision was carried out. Even on his travels he did not remember witnessing interactions such as Louise described. Or was it that he had not taken the time to notice?

  Louise returned the now clean clothes to the basket and stood. “Love is what is the most important,” she said with a smile. “It is what brings together two souls and keeps them moving forward. Granted, I get after George about things that displease me.” She laughed at this and shook her head. “But it is only because I love him. When you love someone, you simply tolerate much more.”

  Her words gave James a renewed strength. He loved Sarah, and like Louise and George, he had to realize that the good sometimes was accompanied by the bad. “Well, Mrs. Louise, I must be on my way.” He walked over to Thunder and gave him a quick pat on his flank.

  “Well, whatever it is you are after, may good fortune be with you,” she said with a light curtsy.

  He placed his foot in the stirrup and swung his leg over the saddle. Then he turned and smiled at her. “I will most definitely need it,” he said. “And thank you for your wise counsel.”

  With a tap of his heels and a turn of the reins, he headed off, hoping that the good fortune bestowed to him did indeed bring him good luck.

  For he would need it, of that he was certain.

  ***

  Sarah took another sip of her tea, thankful for the good fortune of having a bath followed by the conversation she was having with Ingrid. They were seated inside the Horse and Plough, just the two of them, as the pub would not open for another few hours. It was early morning and her fatigued body screamed at her, the grueling work the previous night much more difficult than she had ever imagined. By the time the last man had stumbled out the door, followed by a thorough cleaning she would have sworn had never been completed before that night, no energy remained in her to talk, let alone remember, any advice Ingrid had attempted to give her. However, she slept well, better, in fact, than she ever had before, so her mind was alert and soaked in every word Ingrid said.

  “You must always remember, a man of…means I guess one would say…is rarely seen entering an establishment such as this,” Ingrid was explaining now. “No, here you will find sailors who have not seen a woman in months and dock workers with manners which would offend a dog. There is something to the old adage ‘curses like a sailor’.” She chuckled at this, but Sarah had no idea what she meant.

  Rather than ask, however, she simply nodded her head.

  “Remember, they will do what they can to get a woman to pay them any bit of attention,” Ingrid continued.

  Sarah sat up and set her teacup down on the table. “When those men wanted to kiss my hand…” she said in shock as a realization came over her, “it was not an attempt of civility, was it?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Ingrid replied solemnly. “The men knew you come from a better cloth, let’s say, and they were having a laugh at your expense.”

  Sarah sighed, wondering how in the world they could have known she was not a commoner. If she knew what it was that had betrayed her, she could prevent it from happening again. Perhaps there was more to the life of a common person than simply in which the way one dressed. If she could not convince people she was not of the gentry, then perhaps she truly was destined to marry James and live out the rest of her life at Buckthorn House. Though the thought repulsed her, she also did not want to spend her years here waiting for her destiny to arrive. He had to be out there; she knew so in her heart.

  “I will share something with you,” Ingrid said as she moved to sit next to Sarah, “about a woman whose story might help you.”

  “Oh, yes, please,” Sarah said, grateful for any wisdom this woman could share with her. Plus, she was willing to listen to any stories. “I would love to hear it.”

  Ingrid pushed back a strand of her dark hair and her eyes lost that focus, as one did when they remembered a memory long past. “A woman was to be married to a man she did not love, so she ran away.”

  A chill went through Sarah's spine. She had no doubt that this would be an interesting story, it was so much like her own.

  “She came to a pub to find work, though it was not something to which she was accustomed. The people loved her dearly; however, try as she might, she could not be one of them. There was nothing wrong with her standing in the community, but she was destined for great things. Much greater than spending her life in a pub by the sea.”

  Sarah was enthralled. “Such as?” she asked.

  Ingrid sighed. “Such as having beautiful children and living a life for which others could only wish.” She stopped and took Sarah’s hand in hers. “You see, she had everything before she came here. It was her own stubbornness which caused her to lose sight of what was important.”

  Sarah nodded and wiped at her eye. Of course, Ingrid was speaking of Sarah, and the words struck deep in her heart. She was fortunate, indeed, and perhaps she had been acting a bit as selfish as James had. Yet, her anger and outrage rose from deep within her, and before she could stop them, they burst from her lips. “But I do not love him. He is handsome, to be sure, but he is also cruel!” The tears now ran freely down her cheeks, and Ingrid offered her a kerchief. However, Sarah did not notice. “When I was young, I did love him. I do not anymore. The worst thing about it was he never asked me to marry him. He won me in a game
of chance!” She was sobbing by the time she finished speaking.

  “Come with me,” Ingrid said, lightly pulling Sarah from the chair.

  Sarah stood and walked with Ingrid over to one of the windows that looked out over the sea port. Two ships were docked ready to depart. Where they were going, Sarah knew not, nor did she truly care.

  “I know many of the men on those ships, and a single word from me could have you on one within a day’s time. Is that something which might interest you?”

  Sarah thought about it for a moment and then turned to Ingrid. “I do not know. The idea is exciting, but to leave…”

  “I must go and ready the pub for opening.” She smiled at Sarah and squeezed her hand. “I recommend you take a walk down to the docks, admire the ships and the sea upon which they rest.”

  “I am not certain I understand. What would I gain by doing such a thing?”

  “What you need is to see if your destiny lies beyond those waters or back from where you came. The ocean speaks, and it only speaks the truth, so it will give you the answers you seek. It is at least one thing the sailors say which is true; the rest, of course, is still lies.”

  Sarah gave Ingrid a hug. Yes, this was good advice, probably some of the best she had ever received. “Thank you,” she said. “I will go now and listen to what it has to say.”

  She hurried to the door and then closed it behind her, excited to hear what the sea had to say.

  ***

  After standing at the end of one of the gangplanks for more than ten minutes, Sarah began to wonder at the sanity of the woman with whom she worked. The sea did not speak to her at all. Well, not from what she could hear, anyway. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that so much noise came from the constant movements of the men loading and unloading ships. Between the men’s laughter and their knocking and banging while moving the cargo, Sarah could barely hear herself think, let alone hear any messages the sea might be sending.

  The sun shone off the wet planks before her as she turned to walk down the wooden path that paralleled the shoreline. Clouds formed on the horizon, threatening rain in only a few hours. Lost in her thoughts, Sarah wondered what she would do now. Although she did not want to admit it, believing she could come to a place such as Weymouth to find love had all been folly, and the chances of finding her love were all but over, for no prince would disembark from those ships. What she found instead were drunken sailors who lacked any form of civility whatsoever, and she could not imagine herself married to any of them. From their horrible table manners to the vile acts they performed—she shivered as she thought of the group of men who had had a burping contest to see who could produce the loudest and most obnoxious passing of gas the night before—she would be even more miserable than if she had stayed with James.

  She reached the end of the pier and was pleasantly surprised to come across a beach, it’s gray and white sand now exposed due to the lower tide. As she gazed across it, her mind turned to James and what life would have been like with him ruling over her. Certainly he would not allow her to ride a horse or read a book. He had promised her she could read, but she had not believed him. He was simply saying those things to convince her that life would be wonderful, and then once they were wed, he would recant on it all.

  The sounds of the waves, rhythmic and soothing, eased the tension in Sarah’s neck, and she found it easier to think. Her life had come down to two possibilities. One was to stay here and end up marrying a sailor or remaining alone the rest of her life. The other was a life with James. The latter seemed just as ghastly, with the exception that she would have the comforts to which she was accustomed.

  The sea was to give her answers; however, she found herself more confused than ever. There was a third choice, but the idea of traveling upon one of those great ships as the only woman amongst such men made her push the idea away. No, it was not even a consideration.

  She saw the shadow before hearing the voice.

  “You often spoke of wanting to sail.”

  Sarah’s heart jumped in her throat as she turned to face the object of her anger and confusion. From fear or relief, however, Sarah was unsure.

  Chapter Eleven

  James handed the redheaded boy Thunder’s reins and at the same time pressed a few coins in his hand, which earned an appreciative smile. He had finally arrived, and his heart raced as he hurried to the front door. Thoughts rushed through his head as he pushed the door, which much to his angst did not open. He pushed again and then pulled at it. Nothing. The door was locked. He let out a groan. Too much time had passed since he went in search of Sarah, and the pub being closed was not going to stop him from finding her. He pounded on the door, and when no one came, he turned and gazed around the street. The town reminded him of any other port he had visited, full of men bragging about their latest trysts and female conquests or sharing tales of adventure that only a fool would believe as they traipsed through the muck and dirt of the filthy streets.

  The door opened and a woman stood with a scowl on her face and her eyes narrowed. “We open in less than hour. Come back then.”

  She went to close the door, but James placed his foot in the front of it. “I am looking for Sarah Crombly. I understand that she may have sought work here.” When the woman did not respond, he asked, “Is she here?”

  The woman leaned against the doorjamb. “It depends on who is asking.” It was then that James realized the woman was different from other women he had encountered at portside pubs. She either had at one time been a woman of means, or she had been educated at some point in her life.

  “I am Lord James Foxworth, Duke of Pillberton.” The woman did not seem impressed, so James changed tactics. “I have ridden for two days and would like to speak with her, if you please.”

  The woman sniffed. “Funny thing is, she never mentioned she was expecting a guest,” she said with a sly smile.

  “Well, she is not necessarily expecting me.”

  This brought a laugh from the woman. “As I said before, we open in an hour. I would suggest you return then.”

  This woman was just as frustrating as Sarah. “It is about an urgent matter.”

  The woman glared at him and said with more firmness, “One hour.”

  James tried to push past her, but she stood firm. “Please, listen…” he pleaded.

  “No, My Lord,” —she said his title as if it were a curse— “if you want to speak to Sarah, return once we have opened for business. Until then, please feel free to enjoy all that Weymouth has to offer. I am certain that a cafe will have a lovely meal for you to enjoy as you wait or the inn will have a room for you to rest in after your long travels.” She remained in the doorway, her arms crossed over her breasts and her feet planted firmly on the floor.

  “I mean her no harm. I only wish to speak with her.” He reached into his coat pocket. “If it is money you seek,” he said, pulling a few notes from his roll, “I can give you something for your time.”

  The woman’s eyes went wide, and James thought for a moment that he had finally found a way in the door. However, instead of stepping aside, the woman’s eyes narrowed and her hands went to her hips. “You men are all the same. You believe you can buy a woman’s loyalty or love. Keep your filthy money away from me.”

  An older man walked up behind the woman, his eyebrows like wild untrimmed hedges. “What’s all the fuss about, Ingrid?”

  Not allowing her to speak, James gave the man a nod. “My name is Lord James Foxworth, and I am looking for a Miss Sarah Crombly. The woman has gone missing, and I am to understand that she may have traveled to your fine establishment.”

  The man closed his eyes and shook his head. “I should’ve closed up years ago,” he said with a sigh. “Right. Tell him where she is if you know.”

  “I will not!”

  The man glared at Ingrid. “Tell him or you can find another place of employment!”

  Ingrid gave the man a look that should have had him melt
into the floorboards before she turned to James. “She is walking at the docks.”

  James thanked the woman and hurried off toward the docks, his strides long and quick. There were two ships docked, and several men rushed to load or unload cargo, the noise monumental after two days of hearing only horse hooves and limbs brushing his coat and breeches. One woman stood on the pier, but even from this distance, James could see it was not Sarah.

  The thought occurred to him that there was a small chance she had boarded one of the ships and that it would set sail and he would never see her again. It was a thought that made his stomach ache and his heart hurt. Would Sarah actually go on a ship like she spoke of so often as a child?

  The answer he did not know, but for now, he would resume his search elsewhere. With each step, the thoughts of what he would say to her when he found her swirled around in his mind. He needed to tell her how he felt, and once he shared with her that he did indeed love her, they would ride back to Greystone Estate. Her parents would be joyful and she would finally allow him the chance to make amends.

  He reached the end of the pier, saw the lone figure walking down a sandy beach, and knew immediately that it was Sarah, despite the fact her back was turned. There was no way he would not know the woman he loved. Though he wanted to rush to her, take her in his arms and kiss her, he restrained himself. Instead, he brushed out his coat and then walked toward her, his heart beating against his chest. When he was just a few paces from her, the beach deserted except for the two of them, a smile came to his face as he spoke.

  “You often spoke of wanting to sail.”

  Sarah turned, her face more beautiful than ever, her eyes reflecting the rays of the sun. Surely there was not a more precious creature in the world than the woman standing before him.