Sarah smothered a laugh with her hand as Della met the duke’s gaze and offered him a wan smile. He grinned back, and she nodded to him in thanks.
“What do you like about London, Miss Emily?” the duke asked.
Emily looked instinctively at Nora, who was usually the one who answered questions. Nora nudged her in the shoulder.
“I like all the people who live with us,” Emily said in her soft voice. “Mama and Miss Della and Nora and Becky and all the other girls.”
“You live with an awful lot of people, then?” the duke replied.
“Mmm-hmm,” Emily murmured.
“I like ices and walking in the park,” Nora announced.
“Excellent things to like, Miss Nora,” the duke replied.
“Do you have a dog?” Nora asked.
Della was surprised at her daughter’s forbearance—it had taken her at least five minutes to ask the most pressing question in her mind.
“I do not,” the duke said. “But I believe there is a dog who lives in the stables, you could go see the horses and find him, if you want.”
Both girls were off the sofa before he finished speaking. Della got up also, but the door opened to reveal the butler holding a tray.
“Once you’ve set that down, can you take the ladies to the stables?”
The butler nodded as he placed the tea things on the table in front of the sofa.
“Come, ladies,” he said, sounding as though he were escorting the queen rather than two young girls.
“Can I serve, Your Grace?” Della asked.
The rest of the visit went well. Sarah and the duke discovered they had a mutual love of maths, so the duke brought out some of his accounting and the two of them pored over it as Della tried not to yawn. And stew about Griffith not showing up the night before.
When they went at last, the duke took pains to invite Sarah to visit again. Della was pleased that the duke was as thoughtful and kind as she’d suspected.
Griffith tensed in anticipation of seeing her. He had missed the party the night before, and he was expecting she would be angry.
She was glorious when she was angry.
He knocked at the door, which she flung open, a glare on her face.
“Where were you?”
He shrugged, knowing that would annoy her even more. “I was busy.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she stepped toward him, raising her finger to point at his chest. “I went with my sister, and saw my parents, which was entirely unpleasant.”
Her parents. And he hadn’t been with her for it. Damn it. Although she probably would have swatted away anything he might have done to help.
But she was still speaking. “And the entire evening people were giving me these looks as though my betrothed had finally discovered who I really was. And then a few of the gentlemen offered to comfort me—”
“They did?” Griff interrupted.
She rolled her eyes. “That is not the point of the conversation. The point is that you said you would be there, and you were not. I left after a few hours of pitying looks and whispered asides.
“But I did discover the name of the man who was so rude to me. It turns out, according to my sister Olivia, that Lord Balcham is in debt to her husband. And his debt is due.” She shook her head. “But that is beside the point. Where were you?” she demanded again.
“I am sorry, but there was something I had to do.” Her expression grew more irritated, if that were possible. He cleared his throat, relishing the anticipation of it. “Could you ask Mrs. Wattings to come down? I have something to show her.”
Della looked as though she were going to argue, and then her expression cleared and her eyes widened. “Oh! Is it? Sarah!” she said, turning her head to call up the stairs.
She returned her gaze to him, and he wanted to preen at the look she was giving him now. Not that he didn’t want to preen anytime she regarded him; he did, especially since he knew she both appreciated and deplored it. But now it was so much more deserved.
“What is it?” Sarah began to walk down the stairs, carrying an armful of linens. “I was just rearranging the linen closet. The girls have been using some of the best sheets for their forts.” She sounded rueful, but not dismissive.
What would it have been like for him if he’d had a mother like Mrs. Wattings? Or Della? A mother whose first thought was for her child, not regarding said offspring as an inconvenience?
“Lord Stanbury has something for you,” Della replied. She looked at Griff and spoke in a low tone. “This had better be what I think it is.”
He grinned at her ferocity. “It is, I promise.” He walked forward to Mrs. Wattings, taking the heap of linens from her arms and placing it on one of the chairs arranged along the side of the room. “If I may?” he asked, holding his arm out.
She took it while giving him a bemused smile, and he suppressed his own, not wanting to spoil the surprise too early. Even though it was obvious Della knew what he’d done.
“If you’ll just step this way,” he said, walking Mrs. Wattings to the door. He reached forward ahead of her and opened it, flinging it wide with a dramatic flourish.
And there, standing on the steps, was Wattings.
He felt Mrs. Wattings stiffen, and then she was running out the door and into Mr. Wattings’s arms, nearly knocking both of them over in the process. And he heard her sob, and saw Wattings’s face, and felt a bone-deep satisfaction at what he’d accomplished.
“Oh my goodness.” Della had stepped to his side, taking his hand in hers. Almost as though it were unconscious. And that shouldn’t have pleased him as much as it did—but it did. “This is what you were doing last night.”
He squeezed her hand. “It was. I was on my way home when I thought that I should just visit the address to see if we would be disappointed tomorrow. I was walking up the street when I saw him. I don’t know which one of us was more surprised.”
She chuckled. “Likely it was him, since you at least knew you were looking for him.”
“Fair point,” he replied.
Meanwhile, Mr. and Mrs. Wattings were walking back into the house, his arm wrapped around her shoulders as she stared up at him as if she were unable to believe her eyes.
“Oh! Emily!” Della exclaimed, dropping his hand and dashing up the stairs.
Mrs. Wattings walked up to him, tears streaming down her face as she enfolded him in a hug. He patted her gently on the back, meeting Wattings’s gaze over her shoulder.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said, her voice choked. “I didn’t think it would be possible. I didn’t want to hope.”
The raw emotion in her voice made him ache for her, of how she must have smothered her pain to present a good front for her daughter. Della knew what her friend was suffering, of course, but Griff had never seen it; instead, he’d seen a kind woman who seemed to genuinely care about others’ well-being.
He heard footsteps above and turned to see Mrs. Wattings’s daughter pelt down the stairs, her eyes wide, Della following close behind. Mrs. Wattings released him from the hug as she watched her daughter’s progress.
“There he is, Emily. Your father,” Della said quietly.
“Papa!” the girl screeched, leaping up into Wattings’s arms. Her father held her tight, and Griff heard the man stifle a sob in his throat.
Truth be told, he was remarkably close to sobbing as well. He hadn’t cried in years. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried, actually.
But now he could feel his eyes prickle and his chest tighten.
“My girl,” Wattings said, patting his daughter’s head. “My girl.”
Mrs. Wattings wrapped her arms around both of them, and he averted his gaze, shifting his stance so as not to intrude on the moment.
Della came to stand beside him, mirroring his position so that they were both definitely not staring at the reunited family.
“You found him,” she said, her voice holding an astonished tone. “I wasn’t
certain we would—”
“You doubt me?” he interrupted.
He could hear her roll her eyes. “No, of course not, you arrogant man. If he was out there, I had no doubt but that you could find him. I just doubted that he could be found. And yet here he is.”
“Here he is,” Griff repeated in satisfaction.
The Wattingses, still holding on to one another, began to walk up the stairs, Mrs. Wattings glancing back at them with a tear-stained face.
It felt good to have done something like this. No, more than that; it felt marvelous. It felt as though he could conquer the world.
Of course, he felt like that normally, so perhaps it wasn’t that remarkable.
But there was a tinge of something he’d never felt before—a feeling that he’d accomplished something that would bring about a powerful change for the three members of the Wattings family.
“Did he say why he’d left London before?” Della asked. “About why he didn’t try to find Sarah?”
Griff had been dreading this question, just as he knew it was inevitable.
“It seems as though Mrs. Wattings’s parents told Wattings that Sarah had gone to America with another man.”
She froze, then inhaled sharply. “Dear Lord. Poor Sarah. That her parents could—” She shook her head. “I wish I couldn’t believe it, but of course I do.” Of course she believed it, given how her own parents had treated her. Denying themselves the opportunity to meet Nora because of their stubbornness.
The thought made him furious. “I would never do anything without your permission, but let me know if I can do anything to help. Either with Mrs. Wattings’s family, or—or your own.”
She bit her lip, and he could see her eyes getting moist. His fierce Della, close to tears?
His throat closed over, and he wished he could punch someone.
“Thank you,” she said at last.
Two words were inadequate for the gratitude she felt. He had done what he had promised. Not only that, but he had respected her need to be independent. I would never do anything without your permission.
That was far more seductive than any compliment she had ever received.
“Am I forgiven?” he asked, an amused tone in his voice. “For not escorting you to the party?”
She snorted. “Of course. Although I have to say, your presence makes going to those events far easier. My parents, for example, were able to acknowledge me since they had heard the news of our engagement.” She couldn’t help her rueful tone. “Except for Lord Balcham, whose effrontery nearly got him clocked in the nose by a lordly behemoth.”
He flung his head back and laughed, a complete, hearty laugh that made her laugh too.
“Behemoth, is it?” he said at last. “You’ll have to share that one with Mrs. Wattings.”
“My behemoth,” Della replied.
He nodded in confirmation.
“So now that we don’t have to skulk around the docks anymore, what will we do with our time?” He accompanied his words with a knowing wink.
“Honestly, is that the only thing you can think about?”
He nodded again. “I have to say when I am in your presence, yes.”
“Well, then,” she said, drawing closer to him and tilting her face up to his. “For once I am in perfect agreement with you.”
His lids lowered, his gaze on her mouth. “Then I believe we should leave your house and find our way to a place where we can explore our shared desires.”
The way he said it—shared desires—made her shudder in anticipation.
“Becky!” she called, and the girl scurried downstairs.
“Yes, my lady?” She cast an admiring glance toward Lord Stanbury. He’s mine, Della wanted to say. Even though he wasn’t.
But he would be. For a time, at least. She couldn’t afford more than that.
“Can you check in with Mrs. Wattings and ask if she wants you to sit with Emily? I have to go out, and Mrs. Wattings—” Well, she wouldn’t talk about what it was likely Sarah and Mr. Wattings were going to do later on this evening. “Mrs. Wattings might want Emily to be taken care of.”
Becky’s expression revealed her puzzlement at being asked to do something she did usually, but Della wanted to ensure Sarah had some time to herself.
“Yes, my lady. And I’ll see after Miss Nora also.”
“Thank you,” Della said as Becky walked up the stairs.
“We can go now, if you like,” Della murmured to Lord Stanbury.
“At last,” he growled. And then he took her arm and pulled her to the door, making her laugh at his obvious haste.
Finally. Finally she was going to get to explore all of him. As he would be able to do to her.
Chapter 16
Griffith’s whole body practically vibrated with need. Needing to get her alone and naked, needing to discover what would make her cry out, needing to touch her everywhere.
Thankfully, he’d already scouted a place they could go, or he’d be in an even worse feeling of frustration. He hailed a hackney, yanked the door open and assisted Della inside, before vaulting in after her.
She grinned at him, and he found himself smiling back. He didn’t think he had ever smiled so much with a woman he was also sexually engaged with; usually, the smiles were for the moments after, when he was boneless and satisfied.
He had no doubt but that she would leave him that way, and smiling, but to find himself so pleased even before things had begun—well, that was unusual.
“Where are we going?” she said in a low voice, placing her hand on his thigh.
He put his hand over hers, squeezing her fingers. “Some place where we can be alone for a while. Some place where there are no duke’s daughters besides yourself, no missing sailors, no best friends who are fiercely guarding their friend.”
“Has Sarah done that to you?” she asked, surprised.
He shook his head. “Not yet, but if I were to misbehave, she would make it very clear to me. You have a good friend in her.”
She nodded. “I do. And what about you? Who are your friends?”
“Clark and Hyland, two of my crew. Frederick.”
“I have my sisters and Sarah, you have your sailors and your cousin.”
“And the many people clamoring to meet me now that I am the heir to a dukedom.”
She fluttered her eyelids at him. “Surely your outsized sense of self-worth would argue with that. I mean, it is you we are discussing. Lord Handsome of the Exuberant Expression.”
He guffawed at her words and she joined in. He had never laughed so much with anybody ever, much less with a woman he was planning on getting naked and sweaty with.
“I suppose I do have a healthy opinion of myself,” he replied. “But really, when you look like me, how could you not?”
She exploded into giggles, and he found himself smiling at her, relishing how she didn’t care if she was being exuberant herself. That she probably wanted to be as outrageous as possible so she could remain true to herself.
Della gave a few final chuckles, then glanced out the window. “Where are we? I don’t recognize this area.”
Griffith squeezed her hand and nodded toward the outside. “It’s a few miles outside of London. I found a small inn that is quite clean where we can stay the night.” He frowned, and Della felt her breath hitch. Unless he didn’t want to spend the night with her?
“Unless you need to return earlier to see your daughter?”
Della let out a sigh of relief. “Becky will have Nora well in hand. I imagine the girls will want to ask Mr. Wattings all about the sea, and your boat—”
“Ship,” he corrected as he helped her out of the carriage.
“Ship,” she echoed, rolling her eyes at him. “Anyway, if there is any concern, Sarah will understand what has happened, particularly since she saw us together, and she knew—”
“She knew?” he interrupted in a surprised tone. “Is that something you often speak of?”
She glared at him. “It is not something that usually arises in conversation, my lord. ‘I plan on taking a lover, could you make certain my daughter is taken care of?’” She shook her head. “But Sarah and I share everything.”
“Oh,” he replied in a subdued tone. “I did not mean to imply—”
“That I am a woman of loose morals?” she said sharply. “You are the only one I have even considered in that manner since Mr. Baxter left.”
“I apologize.” He spoke in a quietly sincere tone of voice. They walked toward the front of the inn. “I didn’t mean that. I was more stuck on the idea that you and your friend would be so open with one another.”
“Oh. Yes, we are,” Della said.
“If anything,” he continued, “it is a relief to find you are a woman of experience.” He swung the door open.
She lifted her eyebrow toward him. She had yet to meet a man who didn’t care about a lady’s past.
“No, truly!” he said in response to her expression. “Imagine if I had to be the leader in that situation like so many others. For once, I’d like to be doing something and have the other person know just as well what should be done.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “So you’re saying that because you’re the captain of a ship, and now a duke’s heir, that you want to be relieved of responsibility in bed?”
“Well, I still want to be able to ask for what I want,” he replied with a knowing look. “But it is far more pleasurable if the person knows how to fulfill my needs.”
Della couldn’t resist the self-satisfied smile that appeared on her face. “I do, my lord. I promise.”
“This way,” he said, guiding her through the inn. She had barely gotten a look at it before he was bringing her up the stairs and down the hall toward where she presumed their bedroom was.
Their bedroom. She was actually going to do this, finally. After thinking about it for so long, nearly backing out of it when he had shown himself to be an arrogant ass, then changing her mind when she realized he was an arrogant ass, but he was an arrogant ass who could realize he was wrong.
Plus he seemed, at least for the moment, to be her arrogant ass.
Never a Bride Page 17
