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

by G. L. Snodgrass

  “I truly am sorry about your father.”

  He nodded but held his tongue as he studied her. He’s waiting for why I’ve called him away from his guests. Suddenly, a fear-filled her. What had she been thinking? Perhaps she had misinterpreted Lord Bristol’s intention.

  A turning point, she realized. A turning point in her life.

  “I am returning to my father’s home,” she said before she had really thought the matter through. But it was the only way. She could not be near this man and not let the world know she loved him. It would be impossible.

  He frowned deeply. “Why? May I ask?”

  The hand resting on her cane became wet with worry as she fought to take a deep breath.

  “You will be in mourning and no longer need my assistance. Besides, I believe I have introduced you to every eligible young lady. You should have no problem finding a wife.”

  He continued to frown. “Is that all?”

  No, it is not all, you bloody idiot, she wanted to yell at him. I am leaving because I am about to be ruined and I can’t abide the idea of you hating me. But of course, she stopped herself. Instead, she looked down, unable to meet his gaze.

  “Is this about our … sailing?”

  Her cheeks grew very warm as she continued to stare downward. Oh, the embarrassment, the awkward anger she felt at herself for caring what other people thought.

  “Lord Bristol knows,” she whispered. “I don’t know how, but he does. I am sure of it.”

  The silence that greeted her was as sharp as a knife to the heart. Terrified to see him despising her, she refused to look up.

  His hand gently lifted her chin so that he could look into her eyes. The tender look he gave her made her melt inside. He didn’t hate her. He didn’t blame her.

  “And you believe he will inform others?”

  Abigail scoffed. “You know the man.”

  He continued to frown as he turned and began to pace. “But why? Granted, he has more than enough reason to hate me. But the Bristol I know would have approached me. Used the information as leverage. Never just shared it with no added gain. And why hurt you? It is the woman who is ruined, never the man. Not really. After all. We would simply marry. Problem solved.”

  Abigail gasped. “No. Never,” she said fiercely. It would ruin his life, and therefore hers.

  Jack paused in his pacing to shoot her a strange look. His shoulders slumped as he returned to pacing, his chin resting on his chest, his hands folded behind his back, trying to work out the details.

  “There is something else,” she said. “Something you should know.”

  He stopped, “More? I would have thought this was enough.”

  Abigail shuddered inside. Once he heard, he would surely blame her.

  “I believe Lord Bristol will spread the story to hurt me. Not you.”

  He frowned. Waiting for more information.

  She looked him directly in the eye. Taking a deep breath, Abigail said, “Lord Bristol was the boy in the barn. The boy who caused me to fall.”

  Instantly, Jack's look of confusion and concern shifted to that of a wild animal. A predator.

  “It is simple then,” he said with a small smile. “I will kill him and his knowledge dies with him.”

  “Jack, no,” she said as she limped to him to rest a hand on his chest. He must not do this. She could see it in his eyes. He very well would if she didn’t stop him. “I will not have his death on my conscience. It is why I never told anyone and I won’t have you place that burden upon me.”

  He studied her for a long moment. She could tell that he was trying to work out a way around her plea. Finally, he dipped his head. “I make no promises, Abigail.”

  “Please Jack,” she said as she looked up at him. “Please, if you feel anything for me. Please.”

  He frowned, took a deep breath, then nodded in defeat. “But, I will talk to the man and explain what will happen If he spreads rumors. You needn’t fear. Nothing will come out. I promise you.”

  Abigail sighed. That was what she wanted. More than anything. For the problem to go away. She wondered if Jack could really convince Lord Bristol. Yes, she realized. The fire in his eyes told her that he would move heaven and earth to make it happen.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Gently taking the hand resting on his chest, he slowly ran his thumb over her wrist. A tingling power surged up her arm. A mysterious force pulled her to him. Pushing her into his arms.

  No, if she did, she would never leave them. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to step back. “I must leave, Your Grace,” she said as she dipped into a curtsey.

  “There is no need to return to your fathers,” he said. “I assure you nothing will come out.”

  She cried inside. He thought that was why she was leaving. Couldn’t the man see the truth?

  “I must go home, Your Grace. It is the only solution.”

  He frowned as if confused. He had already told her that he would solve the problem. The poor fool, she thought. He believed it was the threat of Bristol that forced her away. Let him think that. Let him always believe that.

  Swallowing her pain, she turned to leave.

  “Wait,” he called from behind her. Her heart jumped. Please, she begged internally. Please tell me what you think of me. Tell me that you can’t live without me.

  Jack brushed past her to open the door. Sticking his head out, he scanned the hall to make sure no one was watching.

  Abigail bit back tears as she made her way around him and out into the hall. It was over, she thought. All of it, everything.

  Gritting her teeth, she lifted her chin and rejoined her aunt and cousin. It would be an internal hell until they left. But she would pull it off. She had no choice. The man could not be allowed to know her true feelings.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Jack lay on his back in the dark and stared at his ceiling. An anger burned inside of him. An anger that could not be quenched. He had given his word. But good old Barty, Lord Bristol, would pay. Not only for what he had done to Abigail all those years ago in the barn. But for threatening her this time. Why was he so evil? It made no sense.

  The man didn’t deserve to be on the same planet as the woman. How dare he threaten her.

  How had the man learned of their … day together? Was Abigail correct? Did the man truly know the truth? No, Abigail was not the type to misconstrue such a thing. If she was positive then it was as she believed.

  Throwing his blankets aside, Jack began to pace. God, how he wished he had a ship beneath him. Pacing the quarterdeck was so much more satisfying than pacing a Duke’s bedroom. At least there he knew what needed to be done.

  Instead, he was marooned here in this world of secret meanings and hidden shoals. The place was more dangerous than the French coast in a gale.

  Why was she leaving for her father’s? Surely, she must understand that he would never let Bristol hurt her reputation. And why had she been so quick to dismiss his suggestion of marriage? It would have solved all of her problems.

  Although, he had to admit. Abigail was an intelligent woman, she had surely seen the demons inside of him and wanted no part of that nightmare. The thought disturbed his gut, but he had to admit he couldn’t blame the woman.

  Of course, his father would rise up out of his grave if he learned he married a woman unable to have children.

  No, there was no need for her to run home to her father’s. Surely, she should know. If the story did break, a few miles of countryside wouldn’t save her. In fact, it would be better to face it head-on. Deny, deny, and allow him to call out Bristol.

  A quick death for the man and people would believe her story. The tradition of trial by combat still beat deep in people’s souls. Especially here in London. They might pretend otherwise. But, deep down they would accept it as the will of God. They would talk. But no one would dare say a word. Not unless they wished to follow Lord Bristol to a rather violent death.

 
No, there was something else. Surely there had to be.

  He continued to pace until the sun peeked around the edge of his drapes. No, for this he needed help. Dressing quickly in pantaloons and a simple white shirt, he put on his jacket but decided to go without a cravat. There was no need to wake his father’s valet at this hour.

  The front door was half open before a voice from behind him called out, “Where you going Capt’n?” Thompson lifted an eyebrow as if he’d caught the Capt’n sneaking an extra draught of rum from the crew’s share.

  Jack sighed. The man never slept. How had he known? One of those questions that could never be answered. He nodded for the man to accompany him. Someone was still out there trying to kill him. And Thompson would never allow him to travel alone. Granted, it had been two weeks with no further attempts. Perhaps they had changed their minds. Either that, or he had been mistaken in his assumptions and beliefs.

  “I’m going to Bedford’s.”

  Thompson’s eyebrow rose even higher as he looked at the sun barely above the distant buildings. “At this hour? It must be important to pull a Duke out of his bed.”

  A feeling of disappointment filled Jack. Thompson was right. Brock would not be up. Besides, Ann would become upset if her husband was called away for reasons Jack could never explain.

  “Suffolk then,” Jack said as he turned and started in the other direction. “If I know the man he will just be coming home. In fact, if she was particularly special, we might meet him at the door.”

  Thompson simply shrugged as his eyes scanned the street for threats. Only when he was positive they were safe did he glance over at the two men across the street guarding the house. Thompson motioned for the men to follow at a discreet distance.

  Jack was tempted to tell the man not to worry. That it had probably been a mistake, but he knew in his gut that it hadn’t. Besides, Thompson wouldn’t have listened to him.

  Old habits die hard, it was impossible for Jack not to scan the area for potential problems. A cab approaching, a dustman collecting trash, two chimney sweeps, brushes over their shoulder. Each was examined, cataloged and eventually, dismissed.

  The streets of London were not yet fully awake. They made good time through the brisk morning air. He had been correct. The Duke of Suffolk was just arriving as they turned the corner to his street. He stepped down from his carriage, dressed in buff breeches, a black frock coat with gold buttons and a gray beaver hat. Obviously returning from a late night. Turning, he glanced at the rising sun, then smiled as he watched Jack and Thompson walking towards him.

  “I say, this is a surprise, Oxford,” he said. “You are a Duke now. You no longer need to follow Naval traditions. You are going to need to get over this concept of early to bed and early to rise. It just isn’t done.”

  Jack nodded. He didn’t return his friend’s smile. The sour mood burning inside of him wouldn’t allow it. Instead, he nodded to the house. “I need your help.”

  Suffolk’s smile dropped. “Another attempt?”

  “No, worse,” Jack said as he followed Suffolk up the steps.

  His friend shot him a look of concern before leading him into the house.

  “I’ll be staying out, Capt’n,” Thompson said as he turned to examine the street.

  Jack was tempted to argue but stopped himself, he didn’t have the energy, besides, he had bigger issues to worry about. Thompson knew what he was doing and trying to correct him would be futile.

  “So?” The man’s study was a mix of office space and an artist's storage locker. Ian had a habit of keeping paintings he had not yet completed stuck in the corner. The room smelled of paint and coal oil. A jar of brushes sat next to the whiskey decanter.

  The Duke of Suffolk asked silently as he raised the decanter in question.

  “God, man,” Jack replied with a shake of his head, “The sun is barely up. Isn’t it a bit early to start drinking?”

  Suffolk laughed as he poured a good bit of amber fluid into a glass and took a healthy sip. “This isn’t starting, this is finishing.”

  Jack could only shake his head as he took a deep breath and asked the question that had been eating at him for hours. “How do I destroy a British Lord?”

  Suffolk raised an eyebrow, the glass pausing inches from his lips for the second sip.

  “Without killing him,” Jack added.

  Pursing his lips, Suffolk studied his friend. “I am going to ask why, not because a great many Lords don’t deserve to be destroyed. Only that the why might determine the how.”

  Nodding, Jack said, “He is threatening a friend of mine. A person I care about and would prefer to not suffer. In addition, he has threatened this person in the past and caused immeasurable pain and suffering.”

  The man across the study paused for a long moment, Jack could see the gears turning in his head. He needed to be careful or Ian would pull all of his secrets from him.

  “I take it this other person is a woman?”

  Jack sighed as he nodded. It was rather obvious after all. It was unlikely that he would become this involved for a man. No, he would have let a man fight his own battles. Perhaps helped if he had been a friend. But never would he have become this intense if it weren’t for Abigail.

  “Who’s the Lord,” Suffolk asked. “Again, only because it might influence the answer.”

  Pausing, Jack thought about it then said, “Bristol.”

  Suffolk didn’t flinch, instead simply nodding. “Then it is a concern because of Lady Abigail Dupont I gather.”

  Jack’s insides clenched. Did everyone know? Had the story already been spread? He had spent the last week dealing with his father’s death. Had something this earth shacking been spilled into common knowledge and missed him entirely?

  Suffolk watched him closely. “The man has despised her for years. I never knew why. But with your … growing friendship with the young Lady. I feared she might become his target. Barty has always hated you.”

  Jack clenched his teeth tightly. If he said another word Suffolk would be able to discern all of the details and Abigail deserved better than that.

  The Duke of Suffolk continued to study him for a long moment then smiled. “Your silence speaks volumes.”

  “Will you just answer my questions,” Jack grumbled.

  Laughing, Suffolk poured himself another drink. “It won’t be easy. The man doesn’t have many weaknesses. At least not the ones that can hurt him. He is wealthy, respected in the house of Lords, a well-connected family that will rally to his defense. Both Prinny and Liverpool are willing to listen to him. They might not always agree, but the man has too much power to be ignored.”

  Sighing heavily, Jack shook his head. “I need something that will scare him to his very soul. Something that will stop him from doing something I don’t want done. The kind of fear that grabs a man’s soul and won’t release it. All without killing him.”

  “Why not? The killing part?”

  Taking a deep breath, Jack admitted that he had given his word not to kill the man.

  “And does he know that?” Suffolk asked.

  “No.”

  “Well there is your answer,” Suffolk said as he leaned on his desk. “The man is protected in all aspects of his life, wealth, status, family. Connections to both the crown and the government and all of its functionaries.”

  “I know all that,” Jack cursed through tight lips. “That is why I came to you. If it was easy, I would have done it already.”

  Suffolk continued to smile. “It would take too long to ruin him financially. Years. You’ll never get the crown to revoke his title. The Lords would rebel. No, you can attack him only one way.”

  Jack held his breath waiting for the secret. Only after a long moment did he realize his friend was going to make him ask.

  “How?”

  “What is the one thing men, especially British Lords, truly fear? More than poverty, more than a temporary scandal over some actress. Even more than being known fo
r not paying gambling debts. The one thing that can get a man ostracized from even his own family.”

  Jack’s brow furrowed.

  “Cowardice,” Suffolk said as if that one word was the answer to all of Jack’s problems. “No man can afford to be called a coward. Not and retain his standing. And it’s not like he can move somewhere in hopes that no one knows the truth about him. He’s a British Lord. This is his only world. Most men would rather die than be known as a coward. Not our Barty, if you think about it. It was always weaker opponents or at the head of a mob. Never alone. Never against anyone who could take him down. Show him to be a coward and he will never recover.”

  The man was right. It was rather obvious. “But how?”

  Suffolk smiled. “You don’t need to demonstrate his cowardice before an audience. Not if your goal is to put the fear of God into him. Simply show him that you could. The man will never cross you. Never risk having to challenge you.”

  “Again, how?”

  Suffolk threw back the last of his whiskey and put an arm around Jack’s shoulders. “That is your problem. And I’m sure you’ll come up with a brilliant answer. But at the moment, my bed is calling. Unless you need me for a second on the dueling fields. Then I will let you show yourself out.”

  Jack nodded absently as he followed his friend out of the study and into the entryway. “Thank you, Ian,” he said as he continued to frown, his mind rolling over possibilities.

  “And don’t forget,” Suffolk said. “His Royal Highness, our glorious Regent, has forbidden duels amongst his peers. He believes it sets a bad example.”

  “Pitt did it, what? Ten years ago. The man was Prime Minister.”

  The Duke of Suffolk shrugged his shoulders. “Regardless, you can’t openly challenge Bristol.”

  “Something the Americans got right,” Jack said shaking his head. “Their Vice President killed that Hamilton fellow a few years ago. The threat of a duel might make men more careful don’t you think?”

  Jack nodded his thanks to his dear friend. The man was right. It was the only thing he could threaten him with. Not the duel itself. But the fear of being thought a coward. This was going to be more difficult than anticipated. However, that didn’t change the fact that Lord Bristol, Barty, was going to have to change his plans. Abigail would not be made to suffer under any circumstances.