He laughed deep in his chest. “You are welcome. It was an easy thing to do as I will never have to do anything other than sign the paper my solicitor presents me. You have all the tricksy bits.”
She shook her head and struggled to keep her rioting emotions in check. “You have no idea how much this means to me—your faith in me, your respect for my capabilities. I will endeavor with all I am never to disappoint you.”
His thumb stroked her cheek, and he gazed at her with what in any other man she would have labeled love. “I never doubted.”
Sniffing the last of her tears away, her voice quavered a little. “Are you certain you will stay only for dinner? Cannot I tempt you to reconsider?”
“You constantly tempt me to reconsider.” He leaned down and placed a warm kiss on her mouth, but before she could fully respond, he pulled back a little and murmured against her lips, “I am sure.” He put her away from him and stepped back to open the distance between them. “I believe I have just guaranteed my place in heaven beside the righteous,” he quipped. “You offered to feed me, madam? I find I have an appetite.”
“I will tell cook to put dinner forward as much as may be.” She regarded him shyly. “Would you like to see my plans for the shipyard and the new design for the merchant vessels?”
“I would indeed. I have a vested interest, now.”
She took his hand and led him into her study—she scampered, he laughed and allowed her to pull him along—and sat him at her great desk before pulling rolls of paper and fat portfolios down and spreading them out before him. She started with the blueprints of the radical new hull design. “I believe you can make heads and tails of this. If you will excuse me for a moment, I must advise cook of the change in plans.”
She stepped out of the study and closed the door quietly. She met her steward halfway to the kitchen. “He is going to offer his name to guarantee my venture, Greyson. You know what that means! I am over the moon with joy.”
“Who is? Lord Seville?”
She chuffed. “You know fully well he lacks that sort of wealth.”
“Well, who then?”
“Captain Everleigh…Duncan. Well, as the Duke of Chelsony.” She bit her lip in excitement. “He is providing surety for my Calcutta venture. Is that not the most splendid news?”
“In writing?”
“Yes in writing, though I believe his word would be enough.” She rolled her eyes. “Can you not be a little happy, for a moment? This is the greatest of news.”
“I am very happy for you, my lady. I am. Now you may begin your latest and most grand adventure.”
She beamed with joy. Her flesh could hardly contain the heady delight she felt.
Hours later their dinner dishes lay about the room on any available flat surface, sauces cold and congealing. She and Duncan had eaten together in the study, poring over the financials and the blueprints. Duncan was in a most shocking state of undress as he had stripped down to his shirt and rolled up his sleeves. His jacket, waistcoat, and cravat lay strewn over a chair back. He lay on his stomach on her carpet and perused what she had just given him, a lit cigar in one hand and a tumbler of whiskey within reach. He looked the furthest thing from the finely dressed gentleman who had stopped her on the street. She took no issue with his improper attire as she, too, looked the complete hoyden. Her stocking feet peeked from beneath her hem where she sat cross-legged on the floor like a red Indian with her hair hanging in disarray about her face. A sea of papers surrounded her, and she sipped on a tumbler of whiskey.
The study door opened quietly, and Greyson put his head in. “My lady, I have instructed Mr. Odde to lock the doors and extinguishing the candles, and then I’m to bed. Is there anything you or Captain Everleigh require before I retire?”
She glanced at Duncan. He shook his head. “No, I believe not, Greyson,” she said. “Thank you.”
Her steward and man of business took in the smoke-filled air, the destruction of a hitherto orderly study, their inappropriate undress and lack of refined comportment, sighed heavily and withdrew.
Impatience with Greyson’s disapproval niggled at her euphoric mood. Yes, with any other man, her behavior would invite advances of the most indecent and lascivious kind, but that was the telling fact… with any other man. Duncan was a source of immense frustration. She knew she inflamed his animal natures. Men couldn’t hide such things. Though it said little good about her character, most probably branded her a wanton of the worst order, she wished to know how to overset Duncan’s discipline, but she lacked any experience as the pursuer. She’d only ever been pursued. If a man didn’t accept her invitation to her bed, which prior to Duncan, she’d extended only once and that to Percy, she was uncertain how to go on—or even if she should. It would be shameful of her to seduce him were he genuinely unwilling, but she didn’t think he was—merely overburdened with conscience. It bore further consideration.
Placing her whiskey aside, she shook out her legs, propped back on her elbows and just gazed at him. He looked up at her action and smiled then returned to studying the plans. Wellington must accept Duncan’s resignation. He simply must. She couldn’t bear it if her captain went back to war. They might be at peace, now… but from what Duncan inferred, it was an uneasy one. Ships and investments aside, she loved him with a violence of emotion that would not tolerate separation. She could not imagine a life worth living that did not include Duncan Everleigh.
Chapter Twelve
“Thank you for putting in a word for me with Lord Seville. It was kind of him to allow me rooms here as his guest,” Leeland Abernathy remarked. He casually strolled the luxurious chambers on the upper floor of the neoclassical brick building that housed one of the exclusive gentleman’s clubs in London, going so far as to finger the rose satin brocade curtains with gilt fringe that swathed the windows and run his hand over the embroidered silk counterpane on the poster bed. “Quite a change from our normal bivouac, eh?”
Duncan snorted. “As in it has a roof and our compatriots are gentlemen of standing and not rats or carrion birds?”
Leeland glanced at Duncan and chuckled. “That would be one distinction, though gentlemen or not, I am sure we would find a rat should we look hard enough. The other distinction being we are in little danger of being shot at or hung.”
“Well… that depends upon whether or not you still cheat at cards and dice,” drawled Duncan.
“Never, sir!” Leeland denied. “You see before you a changed man. I am now a gentleman of unimpeachable discretion and honor. I have no need of such vagaries as I am to wed an angel of mercy, a soul of purity, a—”
Duncan made loud gagging noises.
“What? Too much?” Leeland grinned. “I realize I am a figure of fun to you, and I was, perhaps, putting it a bit too brown, but I do adore her. I should never wish to cause her any distress by indulging in some of the more disreputable actions of my past. I wish her to always hold me up as a paragon of virtue.” He shrugged. “Impossible, but I will strive.”
“Good to know. I admit, there are times I wish I knew less of you, Major. We have had some harum-scarum experiences, the two of us. But… I also have great trust in your discretion and your honor…” he chuckled “…and I can hardly fault you too severely as I was there beside you.”
Lee put his head back and laughed heartily. “Well, those times are best left well behind us both, I think. We have new lives as respectable gentlemen.” His gaze lingered on Duncan. “You have been spending much time in the company of Lady Lloyd-Smith. Is the merry widow one of your latest light-o-loves?” he teased.
A deep chill froze all mirth in Duncan. “As I know and love you like a brother, I will not call you out for blackening her name, but I warn you now, Lee, have a care.”
His friend regarded him, stricken, all laughter gone on the instant. “My abject apologies, Duncan. I hadn’t realized… You truly care for her.”
Duncan looked away until he could quiet the sudden rage that had en
gulfed him at Leeland’s disrespectful characterization of Florence. He took a deep breath and nodded. “Aye…that I do. I had not realized how much until…” He shook his head. Until I could not use her as I had every other woman before her. “If she will have me, I intend to marry her.”
His friend studied him, and a smile grew on his face. “It’s a pleasant insanity when shared, is it not?”
“What is?”
“Love.”
“She is not aware of my feelings.”
“Good God, what are you waiting for, man?”
“I was waiting until I knew whether I was Captain Everleigh, the Right Honorable 6th Duke of Chelsony or simply the Right Honorable 6th Duke of Chelsony.”
“And?”
Duncan slipped his hand inside his tailcoat, extracted a slim packet and handed it to Leeland. He tried to keep the smile from his face, but as Lee read, his features taking on a widening smile, Duncan’s grew apace until both men looked at each other with broad grins.
“We are out.”
“Indeed. Sir Cummings found me not two hours ago with the news. Ole Conkey complained, but in the end, given our outstanding service to Crown and country, we have been ‘freed to pursue our individual endeavors made incumbent upon gentlemen of good birth by the obligations and duties owed to posterity’.”
With a laugh, Leeland collapsed onto the bed and spoke to the ceiling. “I’m putting the announcement in the papers today.” He sat up. “Congratulate me, Duncan. In three weeks, I will be a married man.”
“Congratulations,” he replied over his shoulder as he turned and walked toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I need to speak with my brother. I wish to arrange a private dinner for two.”
For Florence, the week passed by in a blur of activity. She spent a part of each day calling on all the people who had indicated they would loan her money on her shipyard, and unlike all her prior experiences, no one turned her down. The name of the Duke of Chelsony worked magic.
Florence hadn’t seen Duncan for several days as he finished moving his own accoutrements into his rooms and then assisted Major Abernathy in moving his. Being deprived of her first choice of company, she’d filled the remainder of her time shopping for nursery fittings with Eleanor and Her Grace and attending a symphony performance and a small soirée with Lord Seville.
Late the next morning, her footman summoned her outside to speak with Duncan who had pulled to a halt in front of her townhouse. He drove Miles’ superb greys harnessed to a high perch phaeton of black lacquer with yellow pin-striping, yellow wheels, and royal blue velvet cushions.
She shaded her eyes with her hand as she looked up into the bright light. “Good morning, Captain. What an unexpected delight.”
“For me as well. As this day is unusually fine for mid-November, I would like to take you driving in the country and then to Eleanor’s for a private dinner. Can I tempt you?”
“Today?”
“Now.”
“The weather is unusually warm. It would be a pity not to be outside on such a fine day.” She motioned to the matronly lace cap protecting her hair, her less than pristine apron over a gown that had to be at least two years out of fashion, and made a face. “Will you give me just a trice to change? I was reordering my bookshelves in the study, and I’m not dressed to be seen. If we weren’t such good ‘friends’ I shouldn’t let you see me. I promise not to be above twenty minutes.”
“By all means, ‘friend’.” He tipped his hat with a smile.
Returning fifteen minutes later, she hoisted a large wicker hamper up to him.
“What’s in the hamper?”
“Lemonade, cold ale, a roast chicken, cook’s lovely pickles, some excellent cheddar cheese, apples, a loaf of bread, butter and raspberry tarts.”
“You have packed for a campaign. When I said I’d take you driving in the country, I didn’t mean a foreign one.” He grinned as he leaned down and offered her a hand up into the carriage seat.
“Well, the day is quite fine. I thought we might find somewhere pretty and secluded and eat al fresco before the more formal meal this evening.”
“I don’t mind.” He chuckled. “Though I have eaten ‘al fresco’ far more than I would care to recall, it was never such elegant fare nor under such pleasant circumstances.”
She straightened and leaned back to regard him as he gave the horses the office to walk on. “Oh…I never considered. We don’t have to.”
“Nonsense. It will be fun.”
She examined him carefully and could not see any indication he was merely humoring her. “You aren’t bamming me? You really will enjoy it?”
His attention remained on his horses, but he smiled. “I enjoy everything I do with you, Florence.” He shot her a laughing glance then returned his attention to maneuvering them through the London traffic.
Mollified, she settled into the cushions, happy to simply be in his company.
They traveled to the outskirts of London chatting about her progress in raising money for her Calcutta venture.
“It is quite extraordinary how previously disdainful suitors flock to my court at the whisper the Duke of Chelsony is offering surety for my project. They call unsolicited at the house—men I hitherto regarded as beyond my reach.”
“So raising your capital will no longer be a struggle.”
“Hardly. Money is being thrust at me from every direction, though I wonder how much would stay should you withdraw your surety.” She eyed him briefly before looking forward again. “Greyson is concerned I have given you the power to ruin me. Were the outside investors to demand immediate repayment, as is their right, I could not cover the sum without personal financial ruin. I have never given another the trust I place in you. You should preen at the high compliment I pay you.”
“Greyson doubts me? Are you worried?”
“Not in the slightest.”
“Thank you. If you can be certain of anything in this life, you can be certain of me.” They tooled along in companionable silence. “Yesterday was another in a series of extraordinary days for me, as well.” He glanced at her.
“Well? Do you mean to make me guess? Or shall you tell me?”
He transferred the whip and reins to his left hand, fished inside his jacket and came out with a parchment folded in thirds and sealed with multitudinous blobs of red wax and long ribbons to which medals were attached. He handed it to her.
“What is this?”
“Read it,” he prompted and returned his attention to his team.
It took her less than thirty seconds to realize what it was she held, what the words in ink on the parchment said. “The House of Lords approved it! The Crown has officially proclaimed it.” Tears stood in her eyes. “You are now official, Your Grace…” She choked on joyful laughter. “May I be the very first to congratulate you. Oh, how very wonderful. How monstrously well done, Duncan.”
“I did nothing. This largesse fell into my lap with no effort on my part.” He grinned. “I cannot wrap my mind around it, Florence. Surrounding all of these occurrences is a persistent delusory sense that none of this is real.”
She was about to reassure him this was very real indeed when a landmark jogged her brain. “Oh! Do you see that small lane? There, just past the rose hedges. Turn in if you will.”
He did so.
“In a moment, we will come upon a clearing by a small pond. We can pull under the trees, tether the horses and unpack our meal on the grass by the pond. If you feel so inclined, afterward we can pick wild raspberries. The hedges down this lane are laden with them.”
“I don’t know if I wish to work that hard,” he said with a laugh. “This is your pond?”
She nodded. “I don’t own it, but I do have permission from the landowner. He will be thrilled to learn he entertained a new duke today.”
Duncan drove to an area well shaded from the sun and handed her the reins. “Hold them for a moment, please,
while I go to their heads.” When he was in front of the horses and had a hand on each animal’s bridle, he nodded. “Down with you, Florence. Take my place, if you will.
She gracefully stepped down from her high perch and exchanged places with Duncan, watching idly as he unhooked the team, loosened the belly straps and did up the traces and reins so they did not drag the ground. Taking two head collars with leads from the small boot of the carriage, he joined her. He substituted the head collars for the bridles of each horse, led them away from the center pole of the phaeton and tied them to a conveniently situated tree.
She had a blanket spread out in the warm sun and was unpacking the hamper by then. His shadow fell over her, and she squinted up at him.
“I heard from the War Office in regard to my request to sell out.”
“And?”
He grinned.
She hugged herself delighted. “Your request was granted? As that is what you wanted, I’m so glad for you. This week has provided you with the most astounding news.”
“That it has. So, this jaunt and dinner tonight are in the way of a small celebration for the end of the limbo I dwelt in and the beginning of my unlooked-for good fortune.” He knelt beside her and stripped off his gloves and hat and coat. “There could be no better way to celebrate than spending the day with my favorite person.”
She smiled but showed none of the ungoverned exhilaration she felt inside. “I’m honored. Ale?”
“Please.”
She handed him a cool bottle and took one for herself. She raised it with a flourish as if it were the most elegant of goblets. “To the Duke of Chelsony. I wish you all prosperity and good fortune.” They both took a long swallow. “What do you intend to do with yourself now that you are no longer a spy?”
A Destitute Duke Page 10