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

by G. L. Snodgrass

  Abigail smiled to herself. She found it charming. Mr. Thompson seemed to treat everyone the same. He even referred to Lord Newcastle as Captain. She chose to follow Jack's example and withhold from correcting the man. Somehow being called Miss by Mr. Thompson was more respectful than being called M’lady by almost anyone else.

  “Good day to you Mr. Thompson,” she said as she pulled on her glove and followed him out to the carriage. Her heart sank a little when she realized the coach was empty. “Where are we to meet his Lordship?”

  Thompson smiled as he opened the coach door. “He said you’d ask me, Miss. And I wasn’t to answer.”

  She sighed as she sank into the coach’s squabs. What did he have planned? she wondered. Pulling the curtain back she tried to decipher their route, hoping to discover a clue. But nothing stood out until they passed the Tower of London.

  The gulls cried to each other as the sharp aroma of the Thames at low tide washed through the coach.

  Why here? she wondered as the coach came to a halt. Thompson jumped down and held the door for her as he handed her down.

  No Jack, she saw. Where was he? Scowling at Thompson, she raised a single eyebrow. He simply smiled back and pointed to the pier. “He said for you to go to the end, Miss.”

  The pier was crowded with fishermen fixing their nets or unloading their catch from small, compact fishing boats. She swallowed hard as her stomach clenched. Was this some kind of joke? Was Jack being cruel? No never.

  Thompson touched two fingers to his hat, then climbed up onto the coach’s box. The coachman glanced at Mr. Thompson then looked down sadly at her as if he didn’t like the idea of abandoning her here. Especially in this part of London. But he sighed, then flicked his reins, and the carriage was off. Thompson nodded for her to proceed down the pier.

  “Don’t worry, Miss,” he called out. “The Capt’n would keelhaul ‘em if they bothered you. And they know it.”

  Mr. Thompson’s assurance did not alleviate her fears. Especially when he and the carriage disappeared around the corner. Her stomach turned over as she thought of all the things that could go wrong.

  “You wanted an adventure,” she mumbled to herself as she set her shoulders and started to make her way down the pier. With each step, she made sure to place her cane carefully so that it did not slide between the planks.

  That would be so typical, she thought. Her falling flat on her face in front of all these strange men. Big workmen, with gnarled fingers and keen eyes, dressed in thick sweaters and wool caps. Each of them looked at her strangely. As if she were a catch brought up from the deep sea. Some new creature they had never seen before. Some tipped their hat, others stoically puffed on their pipes. But no one told her she didn’t belong. They simply watched her, then returned to there work.

  Holding her hat in the blowing wind, Abigail focused on walking without falling until she reached the end of the pier with no sight of Jack. Where was he? Her insides began to turn over. Surely, he hadn’t abandoned her.

  “Abigail,” a strong voice called to her. She turned to find every girl’s dream of a pirate. Big, handsome, Jack Hardy, Lord Newcastle, dressed in a flowing white shirt open at the neck and rough woolen pants. His dark hair blowing in the wind. No jacket, no vest. All man.

  He stood on the deck of a small sailing boat. One hand resting on the door to a cabin, the other pushing a boom out of the way.

  “Lord Newcastle,” she said as she fought to slow her racing heart. The man looked both delicious, and dangerous.

  “Jack,” he reminded her as he stepped off the boat and onto the pier, towering over her. “Are you ready?”

  Her stomach fell. “Ready for what?” What did he have planned? Were they to walk there? If so, where? And why make her come all the way down the pier. And, most important, would her hip stay strong enough to last the day?

  “Sailing,” he said as his strong hands took her waist, his long fingers gripping her, sending a bolt of pure pleasure and excitement through her entire body. Smiling, he lifted her as gently as a feather on the wind.

  Gasping, she fought to understand. He smiled at her then slowly placed her onto the boat.

  Abigail gasped as the vessel rocked under her feet. Grabbing the corner of the cabin, she fought to steady herself. What was he doing? What was the meaning of this? Sailing. Surely, he wasn’t serious.

  “You’ll get your sea legs in no time,” he said as he hopped onto the boat and started undoing lines. “Have a seat,” he said pointing to a cushioned bench at the back of the boat.

  Frowning, Abigail leaned on her cane with one hand and held onto any free piece of the boat as she took two steps over the shifting deck to the rear of the boat. It was like walking on ice, never a good feeling for a woman dependent upon a cane.

  Once she sat down, she sighed with relief as she adjusted her dress. Only when she was slightly comfortable did she examine her surroundings and immediately pull away from the long tiller, afraid to touch the wrong thing and cause a problem.

  He really was taking her sailing. Just the two of them out on the water. The thought sent a thrill through her as she realized she was going to experience a real adventure. Something she had never done before. In fact, something she had never anticipated ever doing. The idea was intoxicating.

  A memorable day.

  Smiling to herself, she watched as Jack scrambled over the boat, doing things she had no concept of. Raising the sail, tying off lines to cleats, loosening others that held them to the pier. Then, smiling at her as he pushed the boat away from its mooring, he climbed over the cabin and came to sit down next to her. Letting out a long breath he pushed the long tiller to the left, allowing the sail to catch the wind.

  Abigail gasped as she felt the boat jump in response and heeled slightly, just enough to make her worry as it leaned over, threatening to dip its rail under the water. She gasped again as the wind began to pull at her clothes. Her hat fluttered and threatened to come undone. Unable to stop smiling she took in every aspect of the day. The high, blue sky. The calling gulls that dove and darted behind the boat, obviously hoping for fish. The way the far river bank was rapidly approaching.

  All of it, every aspect made her feel happy to be alive.

  “Oh, Jack, this is so wonderful,” she said as she stared at him for a long moment then leaned over and kissed him, “Thank you,” she said as she pulled back. Then the reality of what she had just done sank in and a feeling of shame washed over her.

  How could she? She had ruined everything within a few minutes of their adventure’s very beginning. He would surely take her back. No man liked a forward woman. Especially not a crippled old maid. But that had not been her intention. All she had wanted to do was thank him. It had been an impulse.

  Her face grew very hot and she just knew her cheeks were apple red, and not from the wind. Gritting her teeth, she looked down at her hands folded in her lap, too afraid to look into his eyes. He might laugh at her silliness or worse, she might see that look of pity that would break her heart.

  “Here,” he said as he took her hand to place it on the tiller. “When I tell you, push it to port.”

  Her eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.

  “To the left. Away from you,” he said as he got up to do something with the sail.

  “You want me to steer the boat?” she asked with disbelief as her heart pounded in her chest. The mere thought was terrifying.

  “Either that, or you can swing the boom and I’ll steer.”

  Her mind raced as she tried to sort all these new thoughts and ideas. Deciding it was better to go along, her spare hand gripped the tiller next to the hand he’d placed there. Both of them held the wooden tiller as tight as she could. Inside, a dozen emotions and thoughts were fighting with each other. He hadn’t laughed. Hadn’t even commented about the kiss. No, instead, he put her in charge of steering.

  What was he thinking?

  “What if I do it wrong?” she called out to him. He sim
ply laughed and removed a line from around a cleat.

  “Then we sink and die,” he said.

  Abigail gasped, her heart in her throat, until she saw him chuckling to himself.

  “Don’t worry. I promise,” he said shooting her a reassuring glance. “I won’t let anything go wrong. We will just do it again if it doesn’t work the first time. In fact, by the end of the day, you will be bored with the entire evolution.”

  She gritted her teeth as she gripped the tiller waiting for his command. One thing she knew without fail. She would never grow tired of this. The thought was preposterous. Moving across the water with ease. Alone, just the two of them. No, never.

  “Now,” he said as he let out line with one hand and pulled another line with the other.

  Abigail pushed the tiller away from herself, as far as it would go. It surprised her by shifting position relatively easily. Jack ducked and let the boom swing out over his head. Once again, the sail caught.

  “Amidships,” he said as he watched the sail while pulling in the line and tying it down. He then turned back and used his arm to indicate she should bring the tiller back in a straight line with the boat.

  That was what he meant by amidships, she realized as she pulled the tiller straight and once again the boat heeled to the other side as it picked up speed.

  “Your first tack,” he said as he sat down. “Good job.”

  Abigail’s heart soared. She had done it. Swallowing quickly, she bit back a squeal of excitement. She was too afraid to do or say anything unless she curse herself. Instead, she sat back and pretended that she knew what she was doing. All the while, her eyes danced from the sail, to Jack, then to the water before them. What if they hit something?

  Jack seemed unconcerned as he sat back down. She waited for him to retake the tiller, but he leaned back and closed his eyes. She, Abigail Dupont was steering a sailboat up the Thames river. Would the world ever be the same again?

  The tiller vibrated in her hand, forcing her mind back to the present situation. She focused every part of her being on her surroundings. Every detail needed to memorized so that she could recall it years from now. The day she sailed up the Thames.

  The boat made a swishing sound through the water and her heart soared. Glancing over, she caught him smiling at her. My God, she realized. I am in love with the man.

  A satisfied happiness filled her. What other man in the entire universe would do this for her? Take her on an adventure where her leg had no significance. There would be no having to walk slowly or waiting for her to catch up. No people watching her, judging, pitying.

  Instead, he had come up with the most perfect way to spend the day. And then, to top it off. Not laugh at her when she kissed him. Her heart melted with happiness mixed with regret.

  He must never know her feelings. She must never forget her true standing. The man needed a wife. A wife who could give him children. In addition, a man such as Jack could never come to care for a woman he didn’t admire. And no man truly admired a cripple.

  Yet, that would never be able to erase the feeling she would feel for this man. A tenderness filled her as she quickly looked away so that he would not see her feelings in her eyes.

  “A little to starboard,” he said as he placed his hand over hers and guided her to pull the tiller slightly to her.

  The sail flapped slightly before it caught more of the wind and snapped tight.

  “Thank you,” she said. Yes, she had told him that already, but she worried that she would spend the rest of her life thanking him for this.

  “My pleasure,” he said. “But it is Thompson you should really thank. The man was as angry as a Kraken with a toothache until he learned I would be taking you. Then he willingly gave up his spot. I must say, for Thompson to give up a day on the water. You must rank pretty high.”

  Abigail laughed. “He may never get it back,” she said, as she pulled the tiller just a little to catch more of the wind. The realization of what she had just done, surprised her and sent a feeling of pride shooting through her. She was truly steering the boat.

  Jack leaned back again, closed his eyes, placed both hands behind his head and tipped it up to the sun, soaking in the warmth. She studied him for a long moment. Worried that he might catch her staring but unable to look away. The man was just … so … wonderful.

  “You miss it?” she asked. “The sea? Sailing?”

  He laughed but didn’t open his eyes. “You will never know how much. A heavy blow off a windward shore, pushing us out, every line humming, straining to hold the sails. The waves falling away behind us. The bow shooting up salty spray with each dip. Land disappearing over the horizon. Men working as a team to get the most out of her.” He paused for a long moment, took a deep breath and said, “Yes, I do miss it.”

  A sadness fell over his face and her heart ached for him.

  “Yet,” he said as he sat forward and smiled at her. “This is not my day, but yours.”

  Her heart filled with happiness. “Teach me,” she said, pointing to the boat. “Teach me everything. What to pull, and why. How do you know when to turn …?”

  “Come about,” he corrected then smiled to her letting her know this was her first lesson.

  She laughed with him as she nodded that she understood and that he should continue.

  He smiled back at her and began his instructions. Abigail grabbed every word and demonstration and refused to let go. She would remember this forever. After today, she’d be able to handle herself in a conversation with the saltiest Admiral, or maybe even Mr. Thompson.

  All she knew was that the day could get no better.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jack smiled to himself. The day was a success. Abigail was enjoying herself. Taking to a day on the water like a true sailor. He had been worried as to whether it would be adventurous enough for her. But it seemed that he had chosen wisely.

  Besides. There was something to be said for sitting next to a beautiful woman on a mid-summer day as your boat made its way up the Thames.

  Opening his eyes slightly, he studied her without her being aware. A strong, attractive woman, he realized, a pert nose that made him want to smile. Kind, intelligent eyes. A chin, a little stronger than fashionable, but it worked on her.

  And then, there was the rest of the woman. Tall, without being gangly. Even now, sitting, she appeared … classic. That was the word he needed. High, firm breasts, flaring hips, curves that said, woman. He thought about what it had felt like to put his hands around her small waist and lift her onto the boat. The woman was as light as a dream.

  “So,” she said without taking her eyes off the water in front of them. “Have you come closer to selecting a bride?”

  “Perhaps,” he answered. “I am narrowing down my list.” A lie, but he didn’t wish to pursue the matter at the moment. He was enjoying his day too much to ruin it.

  Her brow furrowed for just a moment before she glanced over at him with a strange smile. “That is good. I am sure your father would like this matter settled as quickly as possible.”

  He scoffed. To hell with what his father wanted. But, that dreaded sense of duty washed over him once again, as it did every time he thought about the old man that was his father. Sighing inside, he decided to change the subject.

  Jumping up, he stepped into the small cabin and retrieved his rough cloth coat and then draped it around her shoulders.

  “The wind can become biting,” he said in answer to her questioning look. Then smiling at her, he gently removed her hatpin from her hair and pulled her hat. A flimsy straw and feather confection that wasn’t made for sailing.

  Without asking, he placed the hat inside the cabin to stop it from blowing away.

  She smiled at him, then sniffed at the collar of his coat before quickly looking away and pretending that she hadn’t.

  The two of them sat there quietly for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts. Abigail pulled the coat tight around her as she sighed. />
  A curiosity burned inside of him. He wished to know everything about this woman. She was helping him after all. But, there was more. They were becoming friends. But again, there was even more than friendship between them.

  “I have never asked…” he started as he kept a sharp eye on her to ensure he did not push things too far.

  She stiffened as her face turned slightly whiter than normal. Had he gone too far?

  “My injury?” she asked.

  “Only if you wish. But it seems that I have had to tell you everything about myself.”

  “To help find you the correct bride.”

  He waited. Somehow he knew that if he pushed too hard she would freeze and he might never know.

  Abigail continued to study the water before the boat then took a deep breath. “I was thirteen. I fell from the hayloft. The Doctors thought I would never walk again.” Her shrug hid the pain he could see in her eyes.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Why did they think I would never walk again. Really, my injuries to my hip and leg were rather severe, it was a long fall.”

  “No, why did you fall. You are not a clumsy woman. And I imagine you were an agile girl. Probably a bit of a hellion. Climbing trees and riding horses. Always on the search for a new adventure.”

  She turned to look at him, her mouth dropping open. “That was exactly who I was.”

  He smiled. Lady Abigail Dupont was not difficult to understand. An adventurous soul trapped in a body and society that held her back.

  She closed her mouth, then returned to staring forward.

  “A boy,” she said without looking at him. As if afraid to see what he thought. “A few years older than me. His family was visiting ours. He caught me away from the house. Away from my family.” The shudder that passed through her body made his stomach churn with worry.

  She paused as the memory came back to her. His blood boiled as he began to understand what had happened. But she needed to tell him he realized. Perhaps more for herself than him.

  “I ran … I climbed up into the hayloft. It was one of my favorite hiding places. When mother wished me to come in for lessons. When father was angry about something. It was my safe place. No one would ever look for me there.”