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

by G. L. Snodgrass

  But surely, they were done. She had obtained everything she could ever hope for. But no, not Jack, obviously the man was never satisfied. Slowly, she felt him grow hard once again. For her. He wanted her.

  Wiggling, she smiled down at him as he moaned. Oh, the sense of female power. It was intoxicating. Shifting back and forth she started to drive him mad until he frowned up at her, a serious expression.

  “You woman, are a minx,” he said, then grabbing her waist he lifted her up and slowly lowered her onto his shaft.

  Abigail froze, confused, but then he thrust up and she was lost. He held her in place, pushing her higher as he thrust again and again. Slowly she responded, meeting him, falling into his rhythm until once again they both exploded.

  Taking quick breaths, Abigail collapse onto him and sighed with contentment. He remained inside of her. A part of her that she would never have again. But now, here, it was all she could ever ask for.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jack fought a dozen different emotions as he helped Abigail up into the carriage. Was she all right? It seemed wrong to be parting so soon, so easily. Yet, what choice did they have? Nothing could be allowed to bring her shame.

  Thompson shot him a concerned frown. But surely the man could not tell what had happened on the boat. They had worked to return Abigail to every indication of a British Lady. Her hair, her dress, even that silly hat. Nothing that was out of sorts.

  Yet, somehow Thompson knew.

  Swallowing hard, he closed the door behind her then leaned in through the window.

  “You will be all right?” he asked.

  She bit her lip as she nodded. What was she thinking? What thoughts were flashing through that mind of hers? Normally, Abigail was easy to understand. She was so honest and so open. But now. It was if a cloudy fog had come over her, refusing to let him see the true Abigail.

  “Thank you, My Lord,” she said as she reached to put her hand over his. “You … sailing is an experience I will never forget.”

  He laughed then said, “I can’t remember a more enjoyable day on the water.”

  Her cheeks flamed bright red. And that was the last look before the coachman snapped his whip and pulled away.

  Jack could only stand there and think of their day and wonder… No, he told himself. His duty to his father was heirs. And Abigail had told him over and over that she could not have children.

  Besides, she would never make a good wife. She was too intelligent, too quick to point out his flaws and most of all, deserved the very best. He had too many demons to ever burden a woman like Abigail.

  He sighed heavily, then turned and hailed a taxi. He gave the coachman his address as he slammed the door behind him. A disgruntled feeling filled him. A feeling of disappointment. Not with Abigail. No, everything had been so perfectly wonderful. Unexpected, which had made it all that more special. No, this feeling was a disappointment in the future.

  That feeling of doom and dissatisfaction filled him again. Would he ever get rid of it? he wondered. Only on the water could he push it aside.

  Grumbling to himself he watched as the cab turned down his street. As they approached his home, he noticed three men across the street and down a way. Men who did not look as if they belonged in an upper-class neighborhood such as Mayfair. In fact, they looked as if they’d been drug out of the gambling dens and gutters of the London Docks. Men with hard eyes and too many scars.

  Although dressed as workmen in rough cloths and cloth caps. Workmen didn’t normally spend their day standing on Mayfair streets watching a Duke’s home. Especially not men such as these. Not unless they had evil intentions. Every alarm sounded in his mind.

  The almost healed wound on his forearm reminded him of what men such as this could do. An anger began to build inside of him. This would not be allowed, he thought as he opened the door and swung down before the cab could come to a stop.

  Without forethought, he started across the street for the men. Why were they here? Again, he was unarmed. A factor that he must correct, he told himself as he hurried across the cobblestones.

  All three attempted to pretend they did not see him approaching, then, without warning, the shortest removed a pistol and fired.

  Something tugged at the shoulder of his coat as the explosion echoed down the street.

  Jack, froze in shock. It was daylight. In London. How dare these men try to kill him. The brazenness of their actions was the most shocking of all.

  A red rage settled over him as he charged towards the men. Kill or be killed had replaced all thought. The man had wasted his only shot.

  Each man registered surprise. Either at his not being killed outright. Or the fact that he was charging them after being shot at. Regardless, he would give them something to truly worry about.

  The surprised expressions were quickly replaced with one of fear as all three men turned and began to run. The trio quickly split up, going three different directions. One East, one South, the shooter turned West.

  Jack focused on the man who had tried to kill him. That was the target, but it was soon obvious he wouldn’t catch him. The man was too fast and if Jack had to wager, to well-versed in alluding pursuers. When the man turned down an alley then became lost in a street market filled with barrows and a hundred shoppers. He had to admit defeat.

  A sudden worry filled him. What if they had been after his father? Or their home? Perhaps he had interrupted something and even now they were circling around to finish the job. The household was unprepared.

  Would Carmichael even recognize a pistol firing outside his front door? Thompson would have, but he was escorting Abigail. No, he must return home. That was his duty.

  He slid to a stop as he took in huge gulps of air. Really, living ashore was making him weak, he thought with shame. Perhaps he should join Brock in his work in the boxing ring. Heaven knew, waltzes and searching for a wife wasn’t strenuous exercise.

  Only after he had regained his wind did he start for home. When he stormed into the house, it was as if nothing had happened. Carmichael came to take his coat and turned up his nose at the rough woolen sailor’s jacket. Then frowned at the hole in the shoulder.

  “I will have His Grace’s valet, Peterson, repair this, My Lord,” the butler said as he stuck a finger through the hole. The butler obviously despised the idea of the Son of a Duke being seen in anything less than the best.

  Jack bit back a nasty response. “Send Thompson to me when he returns.”

  “I’m here,” the sailor said as he stepped out from the stairs that led down to the servant’s quarters. The man’s eyes immediately shot to stare at Jack’s shoulder. Jack looked down to see a torn shirt and a thin red line. Only then did the stinging pain register. It seemed the marksman hadn’t failed completely.

  “Did she get home safely?” he asked Thompson.

  “Of course, Capt’n.”

  “Get men,” Jack said. “The right men. I want two men out back and two out front. Twenty-four hours a day. Do you understand?”

  Thompson pursed his lips, then nodded as he glanced at the jacket being held by the butler, his finger still sticking through the hole. “I know just the ones.”

  Jack sighed internally. He could rely upon Thompson. Turning to Carmichael, Jack asked, “Does my father have any pistols?”

  The butler frowned for a moment then nodded. “Yes, My Lord. In the Library. But he is resting at the moment. I …”

  “No need to wake him,” Jack said as he started for the library across from his father’s sick room. Glancing back, he noticed Thompson was already leaving. Turning to the butler, Jack said. “I want the coachman armed and no maid is to go out without being escorted by a footman. Do you understand?”

  The butler frowned. Jack thought the man might argue, but he wisely pulled back and nodded. “Of course, My Lord.”

  Jack continued on to the study before the man finished. Why? he wondered. Why had the man tried to kill him? It hadn’t been fear of disco
very. The men had done nothing wrong. Not until he pulled a pistol and tried to kill him.

  That simple act hadn’t been unplanned. Perhaps the tactics had shifted. But those men had been in that very spot to kill him. Why? It made no sense. Not robbery, not in broad daylight. And definitely not in Mayfair. Again, why? He had no enemies. At least not here in Britain. Although he was sure, there were more than a few French sailors who would desire to see him dead.

  Had they hoped to kill his father? Again no, the man was on his deathbed. So, why?

  He hated not knowing. It was impossible to attack an unknown. Not and ensure victory. A queasy uneasy feeling filled him. One thing though, he thought with a smile. That black cloud of doom had disappeared. It was amazing how being shot at could make a man appreciate the finer things in life.

  Either that, or his afternoon with Abigail had abolished the feeling. Immediately, his thoughts jumped to remembering his afternoon with Abigail in exquisite detail.

  No, he told himself. He must focus. Now was no time to become lost in thoughts of a woman. Now was a time to prepare. The next time, he wouldn’t be unarmed. The next time, his attacker would receive a lead ball square between the eyes.

  .o0o.

  Abigail changed quickly for dinner. Although being poor and only slightly above being destitute, Aunt Maud insisted they dress for dinner. It was her way of maintaining appearances. Abigail’s heart raced as her body continued to hum from her day with Jack. The glorious feeling of fulfillment washed over her. It was as if she had achieved a new height of awareness.

  Of course, that beautiful feeling was mixed with regret and fear. What did he think of her? Surely the man must think her a wanton hussy. Her cheeks grew very warm with shame. She had practically begged the man to take her. Had it been nothing more than a sense of obligation on his part?

  How was she to ever know? The realization that she could never discuss it with anyone sent a sadness through her, threatening to overwhelm this new feeling of joy.

  Oh, how life could be so confusing? she thought. Sighing heavily, she made her way to the parlor to await Aunt Maud and Rose. Again, appearances, they must enter the dining room together. Molly, their only maid would serve cook’s dinner, all the while fighting to stop from rolling her eyes at their silliness.

  As she limped down the hall, her mind returned to her afternoon in Jack’s arms. Oh, how wonderful it had been. That sense of power and shared intimacy. The feeling of him inside of her would be something she remembered for the rest of her life. The way the scent of sandalwood mixed with salt had seeped into her very soul. The rock of the boat as they came together. Everything.

  Would they know? she wondered. Her aunt? Rose? Would they be able to read it on her face? Surely the changes she felt inside, this new Abigail must be evident. That thought added a new emotion to all the existing fears.

  Tightening her hand on her cane, she stopped and took a deep breath to calm her racing nerves. No, Aunt Maud must never discover the truth. She would be sent home to her father in shame and never see Jack again. And while she could not look forward to another … such encounter. She would miss her friend. Miss him terribly. No, Aunt Maud must not learn the truth.

  Pushing down the fear she entered the dining room to receive the shock of her life. Lord Bristol stood up from the chair next to Aunt Maud to bow slightly to her.

  Abigail froze, one hand on the doorknob, the other on her cane. Her world shook in a dozen different directions as she fought to stop from fainting on the spot.

  Why was he here of all places?

  The man smiled at her. That knowing smile that said he knew her every secret.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Abigail remembered to curtsey then quickly glanced at her aunt as she raised an eyebrow, silently asking what was going on. A man like the Earl of Bristol did not spend his evenings visiting with women such as themselves.

  Aunt Maud smiled back. Her face aglow with hope and anticipation. Abigail instantly recognized that look. That was the look of a mother who hoped to upgrade from a Baron to an Earl for her daughter.

  Rose appeared confused. Abigail smiled internally. At least her cousin had not been corrupted. She truly loved her Baron and had no interest in Lord Bristol. Unfortunately, she had a mother who would make her life miserable until she succumbed to her wishes. Of course, that would be contingent on landing the Earl in question.

  “It is so nice to see you again, Lady Abigail,” Lord Bristol said with that knowing smile. Everything about the man was off-putting. His hips were wider than his shoulders. How did a man of such girth stand on such thin legs? But worst of all, his smile hid an evil intent that could not be kept from his eyes.

  She was surprised her aunt couldn’t see it. It was so obvious. Yet the woman was distracted with the thought of her daughter becoming a Countess instead of a Baroness.

  Her insides turned over as memories from the barn all those years ago flashed through her mind sending a quivering nervousness through her body.

  “It is nice to see you again as well, My Lord,” she managed to say as her mind raced to understand his intentions. Was he here for Rose? Or did he know about her afternoon with Jack? And if so, was he here to tell Aunt Maud.

  Every fiber of her being held on the edge. If the truth was discovered it would not only be herself impacted. Rose, her father, both would suffer severe embarrassment. Even Jack would be shamed.

  The man looked at her as if trying to decide which way to go, then sighed and shot her a slight smile.

  “I must be going,” he said to her aunt as he bent over the older woman’s hand. “I am meeting friends at the opera.”

  “Oh, we do love the opera,” Aunt Maud said. “Don’t we Rose?”

  Lord Bristol smiled, “Yes, it can be quite enjoyable.”

  However, Abigail realized, he didn’t offer to share his opera box. Either tonight, or at some future date. Aunt Maud’s face fell as she realized the slight cut.

  His action told Abigail everything she needed to know. He had come here for one purpose only, to let her know that he knew of her afternoon alone with Jack and all that meant. How had he discovered the truth? And so quickly?

  Why? To frighten her? Why not simply spread the story?

  Surely the man should be ashamed of himself for chasing a young girl out of a hayloft. You would think he would feel some guilt. Perhaps a desire to make things right. No, not this man. He was unconcerned about what he had done. It was too long ago and no one would believe her. Besides, who would care?

  The thought of Jack flashed into her mind. He would care. She had seen it in his eyes when he asked for the name of the boy from all those years ago. That was why she hadn’t told him. He would kill Lord Bristol and everything would be destroyed. She ruined, Jack in the Tower of London awaiting trial by the peers. His father’s last thought would be about his son the murderer.

  People would say that you should expect such an action from a bastard.

  No, she refused to have that guilt on her conscience.

  A shiver traveled down her spine as Lord Bristol took her hand. “Lady Abigail, I do hope I will see you at Lord and Lady Howell’s next week.”

  Her stomach clenched into a tight ball. Was that where he planned to spread the story? Would he wait until he commanded a room full of members of the ton? She could well imagine his starting the story and it spreading through the room like a fire. Jumping from group to group, person to person. Each of them looking at her in shock.

  “Of course, My Lord,” she responded. “Lady Howell was my mother’s maid of honor. We are good friends.”

  He smiled, “Yes, connections are so important. The approval of friends and family so critical. We must take care to never … strain them. Don’t you agree?”

  Abigail swallowed hard but held her head up. She refused to let this man intimidate her. She didn’t know where this new sense of strength came from. All she knew was that not this time. She would not allow herself to
be pushed.

  “Yes, My Lord,” she told him. “We must all try to live a life of honor. We never know when an incident from our past will come back to haunt us.”

  Both Aunt Maud and Rose shot her quick looks of worry. Both of them obviously confused by the hidden messages being sent between them.

  Her heart jumped with joy when she saw the hesitation behind his eyes. What would people say if they learned that she was crippled because of his actions? Her heart told her that the man had always believed the matter of no importance and long forgotten. Yet, it was the only thing she possessed which might make him second guess any intention to shame either herself or Lord Newcastle.

  Unfortunately, he quickly composed himself. Abigail was unable to determine if it was because he had no worries on the matter. Or if it was his natural arrogance. A deep belief that because of his standing, his title, his wealth. That nothing could hurt him. A belief she feared might be well justified.

  “Until next week,” Lord Bristol said before bowing again to her aunt Maud and cousin Rose.

  Only after he had left did Aunt Maud grip her arm and pull her around. “Whatever was that all about?” she demanded. “We were having a perfectly wonderful time. Weren’t we Rose? Then you arrived and the man couldn’t leave quick enough.”

  Abigail was tempted to tell the woman the truth. To expose the fact that the man she admired so much had been the cause of years of pain and misery. No, she thought. Her aunt wouldn’t care, not if it interfered with her hope of marrying Rose to an Earl.

  “I am sure His Lordship has a very busy evening. After all, it is rather late for a gentleman to be calling don’t you think?”

  Aunt Maud rolled her eyes. Rose looked as confused as a new kitten meeting her first bulldog.

  Abigail took a calming breath as she ignored the strange looks coming from her aunt and cousin. How had he discovered the truth? They had been so careful. No, she had bigger problems, she realized. Should she warn Jack? That was the question she should be asking. The man should be prepared for the storm that would wash over them if the truth was exposed.