A Duke's Duty (The Duke's Club Book 2)

by G. L. Snodgrass

  She sniffed as her heart melted.

  The two of them stood there for a moment, so close she could feel the heat of his body, looking into each other’s eyes. A secret message passed between them. She saw his eyes roam to her lips. Instinctively, she ran her tongue across them. His eyes flashed, watching intently. Something changed, his expression became cloudy as the British Lord was replaced by a beast.

  Was he going to kiss her? Every muscle trembled with anticipation. Could this man desire her? How was it possible? Yet, his eyes told her a different story. Leaning just slightly forward, she silently prayed.

  But the moment was lost.

  “But …” he continued as he took a step back. “ … You must get home so that you can send your carriage for your aunt and cousin. We mustn’t have them waiting.”

  Her heart broke as she realized she had been mistaken. Obviously. Taking a deep breath, she gripped her blasted cane and gave him a quick curtsey before leaving. She couldn’t speak, her voice would break and he would realize her pain.

  No, she must never put him in that spot. Instead, she gave him a last smile before leaving him and finding the servants who would escort her home.

  Of course, the man was correct. That night in bed, she once again relieved the incident. Every color was brighter than expected. The smell of the park, the carriage horse, most of all his sandalwood scent. Then there was the look of hate on the attacker's face. Once again a shudder passed through her body.

  Every detail was etched in her mind and would never be forgotten. Yet, she did as he instructed and realized she had responded appropriately. She was proud of herself. His lordship had been correct. She could hang onto that and get through the night.

  Jack, she reminded herself with a small thrill. Her friend Jack.

  The late morning light woke her with a rush of memories of the night before. It had been true. Not a dream. Lord Newcastle, Jack, she thought with a smile, had been attacked, wounded. And she had helped.

  A sense of disbelief filled her. The feeling mixed with a sense of being alive. The world seemed brighter, more real.

  However, when she went down to breakfast her thoughts turned to her aunt and cousin. What should she tell them? If anything. Of course, she never had the opportunity. No sooner had she stepped into the small dining room when her aunt looked up with a heavy scowl.

  “Is it true?” her aunt demanded. “You were with Lord Newcastle when he was attacked.”

  “No,” Abigail said as she sat down across from her cousin. Rose’s eyes were as big as soup bowls. Obviously, the servant network had spread the word throughout London. “I arrived after the attack. His Lordship was wounded. I helped him home.”

  Aunt Maud’s face scrunched up in obvious distaste. “Really, Abigail. You need to think of Rose. I won’t have anything happen that ruins her chances.”

  A sharp pain stabbed her heart. Rose, of course, everything must be done to ensure her cousin had a wonderful life. The pain lit a fire in her stomach.

  “I am curious, Aunt,” she said as she leaned forward to retrieve some toast and the bowl of marmalade. “Should I have allowed His Lordship to bleed to death there next to the park. Would that be the correct etiquette?”

  Her aunt’s scowl grew even deeper. She hated being thwarted. Her statements were to be taken as gospel and never questioned.

  “Don’t be flippant,” her aunt said. “It is not endearing.”

  Abigail refused to look away, she had not been in the wrong and she refused to be made to feel guilty over her decisions. Then she remembered her gown and coat. Both stained with His Lordship’s blood. Would she be able to erase the stain? No, she thought not.

  “While assisting His Lordship,” she said as she spread the marmalade, “I may have ruined both my gown and coat, and I can’t find my gloves,” she said without looking at her aunt.

  The older woman snorted, “Well, you will not be getting funds from me. You must write to your father. Perhaps he can pull himself away from his blasted cows long enough to send you some.”

  Abigail’s heart fell. The thought of asking her father for funds was unthinkable. Not because he was an unfeeling ogre. But because of the simple fact that there no funds. He had allowed her to come to London on the condition that she would not be a burden on his brother’s widow or his purse.

  As she brooded, Abigail tried to think of a solution. She had other gowns but nothing really appropriate. And there were no other coats. She had been limited to that one.

  “Excuse me, Mum,” Molly said as she came into the room. Their only maid, and only servant other than cook, curtsied. “A package has arrived, Ma’am.”

  Aunt Maud frowned as she held out her hands for the brown paper wrapped bundle in the maid’s arms.”.

  “It is for Lady Abigail,” the maid said with a surprised frown. “The man said so.”

  Abigail’s heart jumped. Who would send her a package? Was it from home?

  “Who is it from?” Rose asked, her eyes dancing with anticipation.

  A sudden thought jumped to the front of Abigail’s mind. Jack? Her fingers shook as she pulled the paperback. Gasping, she pulled out a gorgeous new burgundy velvet coat and a cream-colored gown.

  Rose’s eyes opened wide. Abigail ignored her as she opened the note.

  ‘Again, Thank you,’ it said. But it was the signature at the bottom that pulled at her heart.

  ‘Jack’

  He must have ordered these first thing this morning, she realized. Standing, she held the gown up next to her and then slipped on the beautiful coat.

  She wanted to twirl like a princess but her leg would never hold her. Instead, she ran her hands down over the fine material and marveled that he had selected her favorite color.

  “Lord Newcastle,” she said to her aunt and cousin as she looked over her shoulder to see how the coat fell. Ending at mid-thigh, the garment fit perfectly. She wouldn’t have to alter it one iota.

  “Really,” Aunt Maud said as she rolled her eyes. “It is rather unbecoming if you ask me. A gentleman buying a woman clothes.”

  Abigail bit back a nasty response, “he was only replacing items that were ruined while assisting him with his wound. Surely no one could complain about such an act. In fact, it seems rather gentlemanly to me.”

  Rose’s jaw continued to hang open for a moment until she remembered how to act. “It is beautiful, Abigail.”

  Abigail smiled her concurrence and took a deep breath. Of course, this meant nothing. It was as she had said. The man felt guilty for her misfortune and had taken steps to alleviate the matter. Nothing more.

  But, deep down, deep where no one would ever see, her heart fluttered. He had bought her this and she would never forget this delicious feeling of being valued.

  Chapter Twelve

  As Jack returned Lady Caroline Dundee to her waiting mother he forced himself to hurry. The older woman was almost as red as an apple, holding her breath as she waited for some indication of how the dance went.

  For the umpteenth time in the last two weeks, he was going to disappoint someone. Abigail, standing next to the girl’s mother, watched with close attention. After, but a short observation, her shoulders slumped just slightly.

  Leave it to Abigail, she could read his mind. Another failure.

  Once he had returned Lady Caroline to the safety of her mother, he bowed and thanked her for the dance. The girl blushed, then looked at her mother as if desperately hoping for some suggestion. Jack bowed again and left them, walking to the far corner of the ballroom.

  He needed space. The room was becoming tight. Constricting. Surely not tonight, he thought to himself as he shuddered internally. He should be well versed in these events by now. But the threat of pending doom surrounded him

  Should he leave? The smell of candle wax and too much perfume was like a cloying cloth covering him.

  After all, this search was becoming hopeless. None of them seemed to fit his expectations of a wife.
But then, would any woman? He didn’t want to be married. So, of course, no one would be a match. Maybe he should allow his aunts to select a wife for him and just live with the results. Heaven knew that it probably wouldn’t be any worse than having himself select his mate.

  “Well, My Lord,” Lady Abigail said as she joined him. The woman looked up at him expectantly.

  “I think not,” he said as he looked down at her. She really is rather fetching, he thought. The cream-colored gown was a wise choice. He wondered if it was the gown he had sent to her house. He had tasked Margaret to run to a modeste and pick something appropriate. Apparently, the maid had done a good job because Abigail had thanked him sincerely.

  She frowned for a moment. “I thought for sure,” she said, obviously referring to Lady Caroline. “The woman is beautiful, a fine family. And isn’t dull.”

  He laughed, “No, but she looks at me as if I am to be her savior.”

  Lady Abigail glowered for a moment. “Isn’t that what all men want. To be thought of as a hero?”

  “Perhaps,” he answered. “But for their actions, not their name. It is a difference.”

  “In that case, My Lord. The list of potential candidates is becoming rather slim. Can you tell me of the Ladies you have met, which comes closest to meeting your criteria? Perhaps it would help me steer you in the right direction.”

  He thought for a moment. “Miss Malone,” he said. “While not a Lady, her grandfather was an Earl.”

  Lady Abigail frowned as she shook her head, obviously surprised. “Why? My Lord.”

  Jack laughed to himself. “Because the entire time we were together, she never spoke. Perhaps a good quality in a wife.”

  “Really, My Lord,” Abigail admonished as she slapped his arm with her fan. “You need to take this seriously.”

  Grinning, he nodded. “Lady Burnley. She didn’t appear overly desperate.”

  Again Abigail frowned. “I think not, My Lord. I don’t believe she would make a good wife for you.”

  Now it was Lord Newcastle’s turn to frown. “Why ever not?”

  Pausing for a moment, Lady Abigail’s cheeks turned slightly pink, “Let us say, I don’t believe she … enjoys men.”

  Jack rocked back on his heels. Had he really been that oblivious? But then a few things made sense. The way she had stiffened when he took her into his arms for a waltz. The formal tone without a hint of excitement. Perhaps Abigail was correct.

  Taking a deep breath, he suggested Lady Brumfield.

  “She has just become betrothed, My Lord. I am afraid you are a little late there. What of her sister?”

  He shuddered as he shook his head, the woman laughed like a braying donkey.

  “What of Lady Clairmont?” He hadn’t really enjoyed the woman, but he was running short of names.

  Abigail shook her head, “Lord Bristol’s cousin.’”

  Jack sighed. Another disaster avoided. Although, it would be enjoyable to marry the man’s cousin out from under his nose. Just imagine those family get-togethers these people enjoyed so much. Bristol would grind his teeth to nubs at having to address him as Your Grace.

  “Lady Turnbill, maybe. But, only if I can find no one else.”

  Abigail shook her head. “What every woman wishes in a husband. A man who chooses her only because he can find no one else acceptable.”

  He sighed heavily, “This is a duty and will never be a love match. After all, in reality, it is nothing more than a business arrangement between families.”

  An awkward silence fell over them as they both tried to determine the next course of action. As his mind worked at the problem, he looked down at Abigail and wondered why she was helping him so much. Her insights had been invaluable. Take Lady Burnley, for example. He might have made himself a fool. Or worse, allowed himself to be wed to a woman who despised the very idea.

  No, Abigail had been a Godsend.

  “Do you need to rest?” he asked as he realized how hard he had pushed her this evening. As the night dragged on, her limp became more pronounced and her fingers had begun to turn white where she gripped her cane, a sign of how much she needed it.

  “My Lord,” she said as her cheeks grew pink. “I am perfectly fine.”

  Jack admonished himself. She despised it when he made reference to her infirmity. Much like he despised people judging him for being born a bastard. Was that why he enjoyed her company so much? he wondered. Two people on the outside, neither meeting the expectations and criteria for a true insider.

  “Tell me,” he said with a soft smile. “Have you thought about what favor you will ask in return for all of your assistance. I can tell you, in my view, you have earned a large obligation. Not only do you help with wife hunting, but you are invaluable when it comes to knife wounds.”

  She laughed, obviously pleased that the awkward moment was past them. “No, My Lord. I haven’t thought of it. Although. I agree, it will not be a simple matter. If I am able to find you an acceptable wife, believe me, you will owe me half a king’s ransom.”

  He laughed. “Tell me, Lady Abigail, if you could have anything, what would it be? Perhaps a diamond necklace? Or is it gold you desire?”

  A concerned frown crossed her brow as she pondered his question. “Really, My Lord. It is not wealth so much. Although my father would admonish me for saying such a thing.”

  “Then what, if not treasure or baubles?”

  She sighed heavily. “I would have an experience. A memory I could hold onto instead of a silly piece of jewelry.”

  “Really?” he said in surprise. Didn’t every woman wish for sparkling, shinning objects? “What kind of experience?” he asked her.

  She paused for a long moment then said, “An adventure, My Lord. It doesn’t matter what. A day spent doing something that will make me glad to be alive. A day that will allow me to forget … to live as a person should live.”

  He immediately understood. She wished for a day where she was not reminded of her injury. A day where she could be as any other woman. Yet, a day filled with excitement and memories.

  “Can you get away from your aunt? Spend a day without her hovering and worrying about where you are and what you are doing?”

  She looked up at him with a confused expression. “Yes, My Lord. My aunt doesn’t really concern herself with my whereabouts. As long as I don’t bring shame on the family, of course.”

  He nodded as a plan began to form. A plan that sounded better and better.

  “Monday, my man Thompson will retrieve you. Shall we say at ten? It should give us enough time.”

  Her eyes lit as if they had been set on fire. She really wanted this. He could see her mind working out the details of how to get away without being discovered. There was danger in his proposal. Castigation by her aunt. Dismissal by the rest of the ton. Yet, he could see it. She wanted this.

  “Tuesday would be better, My Lord. That is the day that both my aunt and Rose make the rounds, visiting friends. She does not expect me to accompany her. In fact, I believe she prefers that I don’t. It is also our maid’s day off. If I am home by the evening meal, my aunt will never know I have been away.”

  Jack nodded. At some point in the future he would repay her aunt’s cruelty. All without upsetting Abigail obviously. He smiled to himself. The woman next to him hadn’t even questioned him. She had jumped at the opportunity like a hawk after a hare.

  Truly remarkable he thought. The woman never ceased to surprise him. How many of the other women of the ton would have leaped at the chance to be with him? Not unless they hoped to be caught in a compromising position.

  At least with Abigail, he didn’t have to worry about that.

  .o0o.

  Abigail fought to keep from squealing with delight. The man had promised to take her on an adventure. Alone. At least she believed they would be alone. Just the two of them. And while she knew that she could rely upon his honor. Still, the thought sent a thrill through her.

  He had asked he
r to accompany him.

  A sick feeling quickly replaced the thrill when she realized that if they were discovered. No one would truly care. She was old enough, and after all, no man would ever marry her so she needn’t worry about her reputation. It was almost as if she were a widow. All she need do was not flaunt her freedom. Actually, it was more like she could not be caught being brazen.

  For the rest of the evening, it was difficult to focus. Where was he going to take her? The Park. No, it would be too public. The Museum? They could pretend to meet there. Then perhaps a coffee house. Or better yet. A chocolatier? Granted, not much of an adventure. But the thought of being alone with a man not of her family sounded intoxicating. Especially this man.

  The danger of being discovered would add spice to anything they did. Imagine, her, crippled Abigail spending the day alone with Lord Newcastle. Her heart raced as her stomach clenched.

  While he escorted her back to his aunts, she couldn’t help but wonder again what he had planned.

  Do not get your hopes up, she admonished herself. Do not make this a romantic fairytale. He was repaying a debt. Nothing more. Yet, she knew deep in her soul that she would treasure the day regardless of where they went or what they did.

  Just the fact that he wished to do something nice for her was more than she could ever have hoped for.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Abigail ran her hand down over her dress for the twelfth time in the last ten minutes as she tried to slow her racing heart. A thousand questions danced in her head. Where would they go? A picnic? A long carriage ride perhaps. No, the museum. That had to be it.

  She wondered for a moment what would she hope for. What kind of adventure? The longer she pondered it, the farther from an answer she got. It was impossible. And at its heart, unimportant. Not as long as he was there with her. The adventure was just being alone with a man not of her family. Especially this man in particular.

  The sharp knock at the front door made her jump. Opening it, she smiled at Mr. Thompson. The old sailor tipped his hat, “Good day, Miss.”