Читать книгу The Naked Duke - Sally MacKenzie - Страница 8

Sarah tried to ponder her situation as she walked back to the Green Man with James. She had never had a man—the butcher’s boy did not count—pay her attention, and now she had James, surely the handsomest man she had ever encountered, saying he wanted to marry her.

But no, James wasn’t just any man. He was a duke—a different species entirely. A British peer who did not hesitate to shed his clothes and climb into bed with any strange woman he came upon. He was obviously very practiced at seduction.

“Damn.”

James’s muttered exclamation brought Sarah out of her reverie—that and his increased pace. She hurried to keep up with him.

“What is it?”

“My cousin Richard causing trouble.”

“Bastard!” A girl with bright red hair and a purplish, swollen eye stood in the inn yard screaming at the black-haired devil from last night’s stagecoach. “I did what ye wanted. Ye didn’t have to ’it me.”

“Molly!” Another girl came running out of the inn. “Molly, are ye all right?”

“Look what ’e did to me, Nan! Look what ’e did to m’face.”

Nan hugged Molly and glared at Richard. “Molly’s a good girl, sir. Ye shouldn’t ’ave ’it her.”

“A good girl, is she? Well, she’s a very poor whore.” Richard grabbed Nan’s wrist and pulled her toward him. “Let’s see if you’re worth my money.”

“Richard!” James closed the gap between them. “Let the girl go.”

“Why? Is she a favorite of yours?” Richard’s knuckles whitened and Nan gasped in pain. His cold eyes focused on Sarah, moving slowly from her hair down her bodice to her waist and hips. Her skin prickled everywhere his gaze touched.

He loosened his grip, and Nan collapsed sobbing into Molly’s arms.

“Who is your long Meg, James?”

Sarah thought that James would not answer since the silence between them stretched out so long.

“Miss Hamilton, my cousin Richard Runyon.” James bit off each word. “Richard, Miss Hamilton of Philadelphia.”

“Philadelphia? Going somewhat far afield to find entertainment are you, James?”

“Richard! Miss Hamilton is the Earl of Westbrooke’s cousin.”

“Really? We shared a coach down from London, did we not, Miss Hamilton? Robbie must love you as little as James does me, if he consigns you to the common stage.”

Hatred swirls around this man like flies on a dung heap, Sarah thought. She kept her voice even. “My cousin did not know I was coming.”

“Ah, a surprise. I hope Westbrooke likes surprises. And you’ll be staying with him, I suppose? Lucky Robbie.”

“Sarah will stay at Alvord.”

One thin black eyebrow rose. “Oh? How hospitable of you, James, opening your little home to strangers.” He executed a short, mocking bow. “Enjoy your stay at Alvord, Miss Hamilton. Perhaps our paths will cross again.”

Sarah breathed a sigh of relief the moment Richard was out of sight.

“Oh, yer grace,” Nan said, dropping a quick curtsey, “I dunno what we would ’ave done if ye and yer lady ’adn’t a’come up when ye did. That Mr. Runyon is the devil hisself.”

“I know, Nan.” James glanced at the other girl. “How did your friend happen to entangle herself with him? I thought you all knew to avoid him.”

Nan nodded. “Aye, that we do. Molly’s new to the trade, ye see.”

Molly stepped out of Nan’s shadow. “My ma’s sick, yer grace, and we’ve got little ones to feed. We needed more money.” She looked back at the other girl. “Nan promised me an easy trick.”

“Shush up, Molly.” Nan threw a harried look at James.

“Well, ye promised, Nan.”

“And if ye’d waited like ye was supposed to, ye’d ’ave gotten what I promised.”

“How was I to know? Ye said to wait for a lord.”

“Runyon ain’t no lord, ye booby.”

“He looks like a lord.”

Nan rolled her eyes. “I told ye the lord wanted ye for a friend, not hisself.”

“Ladies, I believe you can carry on this discussion elsewhere.” James turned to the injured girl. “Molly, have a surgeon see to your eye. You may have him send me the bill. And I suggest you consider another line of work. There must be some other way for you to make ends meet.”

“Well, I guess there is, only I thought this would be easiest. I’s gots some experience in the business, if ye know what I mean. I jist never did the deed professionally.”

“Yes, well, I suggest you go put something on that eye.”

“Yes, yer grace, I will. Thankee.”

Sarah watched Molly and Nan disappear into the inn. “That was the girl Robbie was waiting for.”

“It does look that way.”

“My hair isn’t that red!”

James laughed. “Your hair is beautiful, Sarah.” He pushed a loose strand behind her ear. She felt the warmth of his fingers against her cheek. “It is fire and gold. I am very glad Robbie did not encounter Molly last night. I would have sent her on her way the moment I saw her in my bed.”

“And then you wouldn’t be in your present predicament.”

“A predicament, as I told you, I am delighted to be in.”

Sarah ignored that comment. “The innkeeper told me the Green Man was respectable, but it looks like it has a thriving trade in exactly what he assumed I was selling.”

“Don’t be offended. I’m sure old Jakes just wanted to protect the local girls’ interests. If you’d hung out your shingle, no one else would have gotten any business.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Sarah felt her cheeks flame.

“Oh no, love. At first I thought Robbie had imported you from London.”

“You thought I came from London in this dress?”

“Well, I must point out that you were not in that dress when I first saw you.”

Sarah’s cheeks burned in earnest.

“But you could be dressed in a sack—which, if you’ll pardon my saying so, you are—and still be beautiful.” His fingers brushed lightly over her face. Sarah found herself turning up to him like a flower to the sun.

“Your hair, your lashes, your lips, and your lovely hazel eyes. You would make a man a fine mistress if you had a mind to—except, of course, you will be making me a fine wife.”

His hands cupped her face, while his thumbs stroked her cheeks. Sarah thought he was going to kiss her right there in the inn yard. His face got the intent look she was beginning to recognize. But a coach clattered over the cobblestones and he straightened.

“Let’s find Aunt Gladys and Lady Amanda,” he said. “I’m sure they are wondering what has become of us.”

The ladies were still in the private sitting room when James and Sarah returned. There was no sign of Major Draysmith or Robbie.

“So, is everything settled?” Lady Gladys asked. “You were certainly gone long enough. Are you engaged, James?”

“Not exactly, Aunt. Miss Hamilton has graciously agreed to consider my suit. I’m hopeful that once she becomes more acquainted with me, she’ll also agree to our marriage.”

Lady Gladys lifted an eyebrow. “How much better acquainted can she be, James?”

“Aunt!” James said repressively.

“So there’s no need to hurry the banns along?” Lady Amanda’s eyes focused on Sarah’s middle as if she could detect an incipient pregnancy. Sarah felt an irrational urge to cover her stomach.

James shook his head. “No. However, Miss Hamilton has agreed to an immediate engagement should gossip of last night’s little adventure become public. Since I’m certain that neither my relatives nor my friends will ever breathe a word of these events, I feel confident that we can give her the time she needs to make up her mind. Isn’t that right, Aunt? Lady Amanda?”

“Certainly.” Lady Gladys smiled. “We have no interest in rushing the nuptials, do we, Amanda?”

“Indeed, no.” Lady Amanda was still casting Sarah’s abdomen suspicious glances. “If you’re sure there is no possibility of an awkward event in nine months’ time?”

“Quite sure,” James said. Sarah was too mortified to open her mouth.

“That’s settled, then.” Lady Gladys stood. “Let’s go home. I take it Miss Hamilton will stay at Alvord, James? She can’t very well go to Westbrooke. Robbie may be her cousin, but he’s got only a bachelor household.”

“Exactly. I’m sure that I can depend on you and Lady Amanda to be the perfect chaperones.”

James escorted the ladies outside to an impressive carriage. Sarah eyed the large, black horse standing nearby.

“You aren’t traveling with us?” she asked quietly after James had handed the older ladies into the carriage.

“No. This will give you a chance to become better acquainted with my aunt and Lady Amanda.” He raised his voice to address Lady Gladys. “Be nice to Sarah, Aunt.”

“Of course we’ll be nice to Miss Hamilton, James. We are not animals.”

Sarah was not so sure. Studying Lady Amanda’s smile as James handed her into the coach, she had an inkling of how the biblical Daniel must have felt entering the lion’s den.

“I confess I don’t know whom your father married, Miss Hamilton,” Lady Gladys said as soon as the coach lurched into motion. “David became the black sheep when he left England. The old earl never spoke of him.”

“I didn’t really know my mother, either, Lady Gladys.” Sarah had only vague memories of a soft voice and flame-colored hair. “Her name was Susan MacDonald. Her father was a Philadelphian flour merchant.”

“A Scottish tradesman.” Lady Amanda folded her hands and sniffed.

Sarah did not care for the criticism she detected in Lady Amanda’s tone. “He was a very good tradesman. If my father had had a jot of my grandfather’s business sense, I’m sure I would not be penniless now.”

Lady Gladys smiled. “I’m sure you are right, my dear.” She turned to Lady Amanda. “Really, Amanda, Miss Hamilton’s connection to trade is not significant. You know that successful merchants are always acceptable.”

“True. The ton overlooks the dirt on their hands for the money in their pockets. And let us not forget, Miss Hamilton is an American. Some allowance can be made for her on those grounds.”

Sarah straightened her spine. She disliked the criticism of her country even more than the criticism of her family. She opened her mouth to object, but the older ladies had their heads together, completely ignoring her.

“James could marry an actress—not that he would, of course,” Lady Gladys said, “and society would accept it.”

“Exactly. No one wants to risk losing the Duke of Alvord’s favor.” Lady Amanda looked Sarah over. Sarah lifted her chin, and the older woman smiled. “She does look a bit like a duchess at the moment. I think she’ll do, Gladys.”

“I rather think so, too.” The women smiled at Sarah; Sarah smiled back cautiously. She had the uncomfortable feeling that she was about to lose control of her life.

“I see you’ve already put off mourning, my dear,” Lady Gladys said.

“Yes. I would have worn black, but there was no money for a new wardrobe, nor any time to make it. And my father would not have expected it. Why make the world a drearier place, he used to say, by decking yourself out in black?”

Lady Gladys nodded. “Then I hope you won’t object to wearing colors and dancing when we take Lizzie up to London?”

“No.” Sarah hesitated. “I don’t object. I would like to be helpful, but…”

“We don’t have to put it about when Miss Hamilton’s father died,” Lady Amanda said. “If anyone is bold enough to ask—as Richard might be—we’ll just say they do things differently in the colonies.”

“Yes,” Lady Gladys agreed. “There may be some raised eyebrows, but it’s not as if Sarah is just out of the schoolroom or on the catch for a husband. She’ll soon be wearing the Alvord emerald.”

Sarah shifted in her seat. “Lady Gladys, I really don’t think you should assume your nephew and I are going to get married.”

“Of course you’ll marry him, girl.” Lady Amanda looked at Sarah as if she had two heads. “The man’s a duke, wealthy, young, and handsome. What more could you possibly want?”

“I don’t know.” Sarah shrugged helplessly. “This is all so confusing.”

“What’s confusing?” Lady Amanda looked at James’s aunt. “It seems crystal clear to me, doesn’t it to you, Gladys?”

“Yes.” Lady Gladys reached over and patted Sarah’s hand. “Tell us what the problem is, Miss Hamilton.”

The problem, Sarah thought, was that she was a penniless American girl and James a wealthy English duke, but what she blurted out was “I don’t dance.”

Gladys and Amanda startled as if Sarah had said she didn’t eat or breathe.

“You aren’t a Methodist, are you?” Lady Gladys asked.

“No. I don’t object to dancing, I just never learned how. I’ve never been to a ball, and I’ve never had a suitor.” Surely now these ladies would see how far removed plain Miss Hamilton was from the glittering world of the Duke of Alvord. “My only friends were the two spinster ladies who lived next door.”

“My dear,” Lady Gladys said, “how dreadful! It sounds to me as if you’ve been in mourning your entire life.”

“Indeed.” Lady Amanda could not have looked more shocked. “No balls, no young men! How very dreary.”

Lady Gladys smiled. “Even if you weren’t going to marry James—and maybe you aren’t,” she said as Sarah started to protest, “you deserve some fun in your life, dear. I suggest you take this as an opportunity to live a little. Enjoy yourself. Dress up. Dance. Flirt. I’m confident James can present himself in a credible enough fashion to win your regard.”

Sarah looked at the two older women who were watching her so expectantly. For some reason, she did not want to disappoint them—and, if she were completely honest, she didn’t want to disappoint herself. The thought of Miss Sarah Hamilton, a lowly teacher at the Abington Academy for Young Ladies and the daughter of a penniless republican, attending such glittering events was dazzling.

“All right.”

“Splendid.” Both ladies beamed at her. Then Lady Gladys glanced out the window.

“Ah, we’re home!”

Sarah leaned forward so she could see where James lived. Her jaw dropped. She was looking at a medieval castle.

“That’s your home?”

“Yes. The first Duke of Alvord fought with William the Conqueror,” Lady Gladys said. “He built the original castle. Subsequent dukes have added on and remodeled the place, filled in part of the moat, extended the grounds and gardens, and built on a terrace in the back. It’s very comfortable now, not drafty or damp at all.”

The castle was situated on a lake, surrounded by rolling, forested hillsides and meadows. Sarah stared at the gray stone edifice, the crenellated turrets, and the drawbridge. This was where James lived? She had taken Richard’s words literally when he had said James was opening his “little” home to her.

“Quite an impressive sight, is it not?” Lady Amanda sounded smug. “Alvord Castle has over twenty bedrooms. The grounds cover five-hundred acres.”

“Oh, Amanda, stop it.” Lady Gladys laughed. “You sound like a penny guidebook.”

“I’m sure Sarah has never seen such a stately residence before, Gladys.”

“And how kind of you to point it out. Pray, excuse Amanda, Sarah. It must be a touch of the gout that has her out of spirits.”

“Gout! You know I do not suffer from gout, Gladys.”

The carriage rattled over the drawbridge, under the portcullis, and up a circular drive. It stopped in front of a pair of huge wooden doors. A footman came up to let down the carriage steps. James was right behind him.

“We had a nice visit with your Sarah, James,” Lady Gladys said as she allowed James to hand her down the steps.

“Yes,” Lady Amanda said, following behind Gladys. “Now if you will just do your part, we can welcome a new bride to Alvord. It’s about time you looked to the succession, you know.”

“Yes, Lady Amanda,” James said meekly. He grinned at Sarah as the other women went inside. “I see you have charmed the ladies. I think they like you.”

Sarah wrinkled her nose at him. “I think they want to get you married and I’m the likeliest candidate they’ve seen recently.”

James laughed. “Perhaps.” He kept her hand as she stepped onto the gravel drive. “Welcome to Alvord, Sarah. I do hope you will feel at home here.”

“It’s a little overwhelming.” That was an understatement. She surveyed the large building before her. Lady Amanda was right. She certainly had never seen anything like this in Philadelphia.

“It is a bit of a barn, but I won’t let you get lost in it.”

“James!” A girl with James’s sun-streaked hair appeared just inside the huge wooden doors. She launched herself at him and wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. He hugged her back.

“Lizzie, I was only gone overnight.” He shook his head half in amusement, half in exasperation.

“But you are never gone, James. Not without telling us. You are so reliable that we were sure something must have happened. A highwayman or…or something.”

“Lizzie, there are no highwaymen in Kent.” He looked at Sarah. “As you can see, I am sadly domesticated. I cannot have a single night of carousing without my womenfolk setting up a hue and cry.” He turned the girl to face Sarah. “As I’m sure you’ve guessed already, this is my scapegrace sister, Lizzie. Lizzie, let me make known to you Miss Sarah Hamilton of Philadelphia.”

“How do you do, Lizzie?” Sarah smiled. Lizzie reminded her of many of her older students at the Abington Academy for Young Ladies. At seventeen, she was on the brink of adulthood. Not yet a woman, but no longer a child, she was a volatile mix of poise and exuberance.

“Welcome, Miss Hamilton. I don’t believe I’ve met someone from the colonies before.”

“Lizzie, I think Sarah would prefer that you refer to her homeland as the United States. The colonies won their independence a few years ago, you know,” James teased. “At least I hope you know. I’d hate to think I’ve wasted vast sums of money on your governess.”

Lizzie frowned and flushed slightly. “I didn’t mean any offense, Miss Hamilton.”

“No indeed. And you must call me Sarah. I confess that this is my first journey outside Philadelphia, so perhaps you can help me get adjusted to England. I’ve already told your brother that I find English titles very confusing.”

“And vexing,” James put in. Sarah smiled.

“I shall try to conform, no matter how much it goes against the grain, my grace.”

Lizzie giggled. “It’s your grace.”

“What’s your grace?” Sarah asked.

Lizzie laughed harder. “Who’s ‘your grace.’ James. He’s ‘your grace.’”

Sarah felt even more mystified. “Isn’t that what I said?”

James laughed. “What my sister is trying to say, Sarah, is that the proper form of address for a duke is ‘your grace,’ not ‘my grace.’”

“Why? Didn’t you tell me I could call you ‘my grace’?” Sarah thought back over that conversation and blushed. Perhaps that wasn’t quite what James had meant. “I don’t understand,” she said. “I’m supposed to say ‘my lord,’ aren’t I?”

James nodded.

“So why not ‘my grace’?”

“You wouldn’t address the king as ‘my majesty,’ Sarah,” Lizzie said, “but as ‘your majesty.’”

“I address God as ‘my God.’ Is a king or a duke of higher rank than the Almighty?”

“Some would like to think so,” James said, chuckling. He put up a hand as Sarah drew breath to argue. “But, I hasten to add I am not among their number, so you can lower your republican hackles. Now, shall we go in and get you settled?” He took her arm and started walking toward the door.

“Is Sarah staying with us, James? I don’t see her bags.”

“That’s because they are, unfortunately, at the bottom of Liverpool harbor. But yes, she’s staying here and going up to London with us for the Season.”

Lizzie looked surprised, but was obviously too well-bred to ask more questions. Sarah did not want to go into all the details, but she thought some explanation was warranted.

“Your brother is helping me out of a predicament, Lizzie. When my father died in December, he insisted that I come to England. We didn’t know that his brother had also died, and that Robbie was the new Lord Westbrooke. Since I can’t stay with Robbie, your brother has graciously offered to let me stay here.”

“He has?” Lizzie grinned, looking even more like her brother. “Well, I’m glad. It will be fun to have you here.” She glanced back at James. “You never said what you were doing at the Green Man, James. Were you carousing?”

“No, I was not! And even if I was, I wouldn’t tell you.” He nodded at the very proper, very elderly butler standing just inside the front door. “You weren’t worried about me, too, were you, Layton?”

“Of course not, your grace.” Layton bowed slightly. He had a thick mane of white hair and a very imposing nose. Sarah thought he looked much more like a duke than James did. “I tried to reassure the ladies, but Lady Gladys will worry.”

James shook his head. “I should have given them more reason to worry when I was younger.”

“I believe the ladies would say you gave them plenty of reason to worry when you were fighting Napoleon, your grace.”

They stepped into a cavernous entrance hall where a short, plump woman waited for them. The brown hair beneath her cap was liberally streaked with gray.

“Ah, Mrs. Stallings, we have a guest. Will you show Miss Hamilton to the blue bedroom?”

“Certainly, your grace. If you will come with me, Miss Hamilton?”

“And I’ll help you settle in, shall I?” Lizzie said, linking arms with Sarah.

James frowned. “Sarah might like some time alone, Lizzie.”

“I won’t be any trouble. You don’t mind, do you, Sarah? I’d like to get acquainted.”

Sarah looked at the younger girl. Lizzie was smiling hopefully back at her. It was an odd but welcome feeling to have her company sought. None of her students, even those close to her in age, had ever attempted to bridge the gulf between them. She was not sure she would have let them if they had tried. She had been too afraid of losing her authority.

“No, I don’t mind.”

“Don’t be a pest, Lizzie,” James called after them as they followed Mrs. Stallings’s solid form up the stairs.

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “Really,” she whispered to Sarah, “sometimes James seems to think I’m still ten years old.”

Sarah laughed. “I noticed. I envy you. I don’t have any brothers or sisters.”

“Here we are, Miss Hamilton.” Mrs. Stallings opened a door and led the way into a lovely bedroom.

“It’s beautiful.” There was a note of awe in Sarah’s voice.

The room was at least four times the size of her room in Philadelphia. The walls were covered in pale blue fabric, and darker blue swagged curtains and blue-cushioned seats framed the large windows that flooded the space with light. A delicate blue lacquer desk and chair stood off to her left while two upholstered chairs were grouped by the fire. A thick carpet, a geometric pattern of blues and gold, covered most of the floor.

Sarah felt like an imposter. This room was far too grand for her, but then James’s servants’ rooms were likely more spacious than her small bedroom at home.

“I’ll just send Thomas up with your things, miss,” Mrs. Stallings said.

“Thank you, Mrs. Stallings, but I’m afraid I haven’t got any things.” Sarah smiled slightly. “My trunk went overboard in Liverpool. All I have is this sorry dress on my back. But if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I would dearly love a bath.”

“You poor thing! I’ll have the water sent up directly.” Mrs. Stallings surveyed Sarah’s dress. “Shall I see if I can freshen your frock while you bathe?”

Sarah grimaced. “I’m afraid it would require a miracle to do anything with this dress.”

“Hmm.” Lizzie looked Sarah over carefully as Mrs. Stallings left. “You’re about my size. There might be something in my closet that you can wear.”

“Lizzie, I couldn’t borrow one of your gowns.”

“Why not? Do you like the dress you’re wearing?”

Sarah laughed. “No, it’s dreadful. It was never stylish, but after having worn it for four days straight now, I truly loathe it.”

“I should think so. My green silk should suit. My maid, Betty, can make any alterations that are needed. She’s very good with a needle.”

Sarah was tempted. She felt so drab, like a weed in a rose garden. Just this once she wanted to be a butterfly, or as close to a butterfly as a tall, red-haired spinster could be. She just wanted to match her surroundings. It had nothing to do with a certain handsome duke.

“Well, if you are sure you can truly spare the dress, I would be delighted to accept.”

“Good. And you must know that you can’t get by with only one dress—I am not counting that object you have on. We’ll need to have Mrs. Croft in—she’s the village dressmaker.”

“Lizzie! I admit I will need some new dresses, but I assure you I can’t afford a whole new wardrobe.” I can’t even afford one new dress, Sarah thought unhappily.

Lizzie shrugged. “James will pay for it.”

“He will not. That would be terribly inappropriate.”

“I don’t see why. He has piles of money.”

“It’s just not done, not in the United States or in England.”

“But you need new clothes,” Lizzie said reasonably. “Someone will have to pay for them.”

“Well, it won’t be your brother! He is not related to me.”

Lizzie grinned. “But Robbie is! He can foot the bill.”

The servants arrived then with the tub and water.

“I’ll be back when you’re done with your bath,” Lizzie said, slipping out the door after the footmen.

Sarah looked at the closed door. Then she sighed, shed the despised dress, and climbed into the tub. She sank into the warm water and closed her eyes.

What was she going to do about her clothing? Lizzie was right—she would need some new things. It did not seem right to burden Robbie with the expense. He certainly hadn’t asked her to show up almost on his doorstep. And she certainly could not let James buy them for her. The thought was shocking—and strangely seductive. A man bought clothes for his wife, but she could never be his wife. If she had entertained that possibility even for a moment, she was forced to discard it now. She did not know the first thing about managing a place the size of Alvord. Making her mistress here would be ludicrous, as ridiculous as putting the butcher’s boy in President Madison’s office. It just could not be done.

She rested her head against the back of the tub. Had her father known such wealth? He had been the son of an earl, after all. Yet he had given no sign of having been raised in privilege.

Of course, he had never been terribly interested in things. Ideas, theories, arguments—those were what he coveted. Even people held little interest for him. The first time she could remember her father showing any real concern for her was when he had insisted she come to England. She certainly had never felt from him the warmth that was evident between James and his sister or James and his aunt.

She sighed. She would love to be part of a family like James’s. He had offered her that if she married him. Did he know how tempting that was?

She grabbed the soap and scrubbed her arms. A tempting illusion. James did not love her. He was a British duke. He didn’t need a wife, he needed a brood mare. A marriage with him would make a family in name only.

She would get a job. She would be fine. She didn’t need much. She did not need any broad, strong shoulders in her life. She shook her head to get the picture of those shoulders out of her mind. The Duke of Alvord must be a rake of the worst sort. A thoughtless heartbreaker. After all, she had found him naked in her bed, hadn’t she? No, she was definitely better off by herself.

She didn’t need to wash her face. For some stupid reason, it was already wet.