The Duke Wears Nada

by Barbara Devlin

  As she scanned the missive, she clutched her throat but yielded no other hint of her reaction. Would she cry? Would she swoon? Bracing for some form of hysteria, he shuffled his feet and prayed for calm.

  With a snicker, she gazed at him. “I am to accompany you on your mission?”

  “So it appears, because I have no time to return you to London.” In the cool evening breeze, she shivered, and he doffed his coat and draped it about her shoulders. “But I shall protect you.”

  All of a sudden, Lucy favored him with her characteristic shimmering expression and leaped at him. “Oh, Your Grace, what an adventure.”

  ~

  Tucked, safe and sound, in the cozy, dimly lit cabin that adjoined Damian’s large stateroom, Lucy sat on the hastily constructed bunk and sifted through her belongings. In the trunk Lenore packed for the journey, Lucy found her magnifying glasses, a knife, three books that detailed marine life, stationary, all the garments required for almost any occasion, including a pair of breeches, slippers, boots, and the accouterments necessary for her toilette.

  Indeed, she had everything she could want—except for a husband.

  Reclining, she ran her fingers along the rough surface of the wall that separated her accommodation from her dashing duke’s. A knot caught her attention, and she traced the circular shape of the outer ring, when the center fell from the panel and left a small hole.

  Jagged edges marked the tiny piece of wood, and the color varied from light to dark, as she rolled it in her palm. As she studied the fragment, she reflected on the passage of time it took to create the patterns unique to the timber and wondered what secrets the walls contained, given the ship’s estimable history.

  Then she noticed the yellow glow emitting from the gap, and she pressed her nose to the wall. At the washstand, and sans a shirt, Damian scrubbed his face. Like a Greek statue, he presented an imposing physique, and his muscles rippled and flexed with his movements. At his locker, he yanked off his boots, as she admired his back, and then unfastened the placket of his breeches, which he stripped to his ankles.

  While she should have given him privacy, she was too fascinated to avert her stare. What she studied in numerous anatomy books, including the rough renderings of the male form, was nothing compared to Damian’s physical manifestation of virility, and never had she glimpsed anything so beautiful.

  Suddenly shy, she retreated, closed her eyes, and revisited the breathtaking vision. With her hand, she traced the curve of her neck and sketched a path across her breasts. Hot and cold, at once, she flinched, came alert, snatched the candle from the little side table, poured some wax into a decent sized puddle, and rolled the pliable substance into a ball, which she shoved into the hole.

  “Lucy.” Damian knocked on the door, and she almost screamed. “Dinner is served, my lady.”

  “I am coming, Your Grace.” After depositing the knot with her things, she smoothed the skirts of her mint green jaconet dress. With her hand on the knob, she considered her situation and vowed to secure his agreement, because she simply could not see her future without him in it, and heaven help her if she failed.

  In the relatively large stern cabin, a combination of wall lamps and candles bathed the room in a soft, saffron glow. A row of windows afforded a spectacular view of the sunset, and a host of vivid hues streaked the encroaching indigo sky, as day yielded to night.

  “Good evening, my dear. We have ragoo’d mutton to tempt you.” Garbed in brown wool breeches, a lawn shirt open at the throat, and barefooted, he lifted the lid on a pot, picked up a spoon, and despite his attempt to portray a sense of calm, nervous anxiety pervaded his every move, betraying his unrest. “Are you hungry?”

  “I believe my grumbling belly provides ample proof that I am.” As if on cue, her empty stomach protested, but the loud rumble garnered no smile from her duke. While he dished portions, a heavenly aroma teased her nose, and she studied his quarters with unveiled interest.

  In a small niche to the left she inspected the bathing area, with a washstand and a serviceable tub, and to the right she spied the locker and pegs upon which hung several garments. At the center, holding price of place in the impressive cabin, sat a huge, hand-tooled mahogany desk, upon which a blotter, a stack of maps, an inkwell, and a logbook had been placed with precision. But it was the rather large bunk that caught her attention.

  “So your father and mother shared this space, when they traveled?” Despite the slightly raised sides of the wooden frame, she eased to the fluffy mattress. “And this is where you sleep?”

  “Let us dine, Lucy.” When Damian glanced at her, he frowned and held out a chair. “Before the food gets cold.”

  “Of course, Your Grace.” As she took her seat, she grabbed a napkin, which she draped across her lap. “It smells delicious.”

  “When we are married, I forbid you to ever again address me so formally, because you know I do not like it.” With that, he plopped into his chair, snatched his fork, stabbed a large piece of meat, and shoved it into his mouth.

  “Does that mean you have decided to offer the assistance I require?” She bit her tongue when he commenced choking. “Is something wrong?”

  As he continued to cough, he shook his head.

  “Shall I pour the wine?” She noted the empty glasses, lifted the pitcher, and filled the delicate crystal. “Have I startled you?”

  “You know you have.” With a huff, he slumped forward and rested his elbows to the table. “And I am still trying to reconcile myself to your request, but what you ask violates everything I am, and I refuse to debauch you.”

  “But you could never harm me, and never would I characterize our close relationship with such a crude term.” Desperate to make him understand her perspective, she reached for his hand and twined her fingers in his. “Do you not see that I love you? In fact, I love you so much that I would rather be miserable without you than try to find happiness with someone else. So if you refuse me, if you cannot rally passion for me, I shall die alone, as an old maid.”

  “Lucy, I love you, too.” With his thumb, he drew tiny circles on her palm, and she should have found comfort in his declaration, yet she could not celebrate an incomplete victory. “And it is because I care for you that I struggle with your commission. It is not a matter of passion, or lack thereof, because I seem to possess a limitless supply, where you are concerned. Rather, it is an issue of respect, and that is why I cannot dishonor you.”

  “Then we are doomed.” When she tried to withdraw, he held fast.

  “No, sweetheart.” Damian furrowed his brow. “As much as I object to your bold petition, I want you, more. So I will give you what you want, but we cannot force it, because my body rejects the notion, even now. And there is a certain part of my anatomy that must cooperate for us to succeed.”

  “I can wait.” Given her studies, she comprehended his caution, but she could jump for joy and shout hallelujah, which she did in her mind. “Whenever you are ready, I shall accommodate you. Just tell me when.”

  “I would say the same to you, but I think you are more than ready.” He rolled his eyes and grinned, and the tension eased. “But when that happens, trust me, you will be the first to know.”

  “Thank you.” In that moment, she could have cried.

  “Do not be so quick to express your appreciation, because there are no guarantees I can provide the answers you seek.” Something in his manner gave her delicious shivers, as he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the back of her knuckles. “But I shall do all that is within my power to satisfy you.”

  “I understand.” She gulped at the prospect, given what she glimpsed, earlier. “It is enough that you will try.”

  “And then you will marry me.” It was a statement, not a question.

  In that moment, Lucy met Damian’s unwavering gaze. “Yes.”

  THE DUKE WEARS NADA

  CHAPTER NINE

  After Lord Exmouth celebrated a successful negotiation in Tunis, the flee
t sailed for Tripoli, where a fortnight passed, as Pellew brokered another agreement to free Christian prisoners and end slavery. While Damian fought frustration and disappointment, for the lack of action, Lucy found the entire process fascinating and posed a wealth of questions on the deliberations. If he thought he loved her before they departed London, what he harbored for her in the days they spent aboard the Sagremor now consumed him, because he was head over heels in love.

  As a reward, he resolved to surprise her with a special dinner, in town. So he stood before the long mirror and tied his cravat with precision. Then he scrutinized his buckskin breeches, polished Hessians, burgundy waistcoat, and brown coat.

  “Damian, are you decent?” Lucy called from her room, just before she opened her door. “May I join you?”

  “Do you not think it wise to wait for my reply before you do so?” When she pouted, he chuckled. “Come in, darling, as I could never be vexed with you.”

  “Would you mind helping me with my laces?” She gave him her back. “I never realized how much I rely on my maid, and I have a new appreciation for her.”

  “Here, let me do it.” It dawned on him, as he tightened the bodice of her burgundy gown, which matched his attire, a coincidence he suspected was not so coincidental, that a husband would perform such simple tasks when they traveled, and his thoughts turned toward the opposite goal. For a scarce second, his body responded to the possibility of decadent pursuits. Just as quick, he envisioned her beautiful face and shimmering smile, and a particular six inches of his anatomy deflated, because he simply could not defile her virtue. “There. All done.”

  “How do I look?” When she rotated, he could not avoid the temptation her décolletage presented, yet even that was not enough to rouse him, because he gazed upon Lucy, the woman he loved. “Upon my word, we are a pair.” No, it was no accident, because his lady had no talent for dissemblance. “Should I change?”

  “You are a vision, love.” He settled her hand in the crook of his arm. “And we do not wish to be late, because we are meeting friends, ashore, so you will come as you are, except you are missing something.”

  “Oh? What did I forget?” As he expected, she bounced with unrestrained enthusiasm. “And we dine with others?”

  “Indeed, we do, and you will see when we get there.” From his waistcoat pocket he drew the betrothal ring. “And I should like to make our engagement official, since I have your acceptance of my suit, and the consummation for which you wait shall happen, soon.” For a scarce second, he held his breath, until she presented her hand. For some reason he could not explain, his fingers shook as he bestowed upon her the bauble. “Perfection, my dear.” With that, he led her into the hall and onto the quarterdeck, before she could voice complaints, not that he anticipated any, but he would take no chances.

  At once, the sailors, both commissioned and non-commissioned, stood at attention and made their obedience, which she acknowledged with a half-curtsey. During the voyage to the Mediterranean, Lucy won the favor and respect of the crew, with her hard work and inquisitive nature.

  “Good evening, Greer.” She smiled at the bosun, who blushed. “How is your shoulder?”

  “Much better, Miss Teversham.” The seasoned tar thrust his chest. “And than you, for your participation in make and mend day. Farley wondered if you might examine his vest, ma’am. It was a gift from his mother, and he tore a hole in the seam.”

  “Why, of course.” Damian knew exactly what would happen next, as she glanced at him. “Your Grace, may I take but a moment?”

  “That would give us a chance to have a word, Cap’n.” Carsleigh shuffled his weight and cleared his throat. “It is important, sir.”

  “All right.” To Lucy, Damian said, “I shall meet you at the mainsail hull, but be quick, my dear.”

  “Aye, aye, Cap’n.” How he adored the flirty flounce of her brown curls, as she skipped down the companion ladder. “What is it, Carsleigh?”

  “It is the lady, Cap’n.” The first lieutenant opened his mouth and then closed it. “While I cannot believe I am about to say this, the men are not happy with the living arrangements, given they have become rather fond of Miss Teversham, and I am concerned it could develop into a real problem. This afternoon, when the second watch came on duty, I overheard Colum and Jones complaining that you have irreparably damaged Miss Teversham’s reputation. It is important to note that they recently taught her how to read the lead-line, and she has a way with people.”

  “Are you serious?” Such entanglements struck a chord, and it was exactly what Damian feared and only fed his reluctance to take her.

  “Sir, I would not joke on the matter.” Carsleigh rubbed the back of his neck. “But you should have known better, especially after she cooked kickshaws and apple pie for the wardroom, the gunroom, and the seamen’s mess. If the situation continues on its current path, I fear a mutiny.”

  “Relax, Carsleigh, as no one is walking the plank, tonight.” Damian motioned with his head and descended the companion ladder, with his first lieutenant, in tow. “You may call attention to the ring on Miss Teversham’s finger, and an extra portion for the crew, when you inform them of the betrothal. And have Greer prepare the ship for our departure, in the morning.”

  “Congratulations, Cap’n.” Carsleigh snickered. “And it could not have come at a more auspicious moment. I will make the announcement as soon as you take your leave, and I will ensure we are ready for the last stop on our mission.”

  “Excellent.” Just then, Damian spied Lucy ascending to the waist. “Come along, my dear, else we will be late.”

  At the mainsail hull, he climbed down the Jacob’s ladder. In the jolly boat, he held taught the rope, as Lucy followed. Once she settled at his side, he nodded to an able seaman, who rowed them to the docks.

  “Oh, I am uncontrollably excited, Damian.” As the little vessel bobbed on the waves, she scooted closer. “I have never been to Tripoli, and I am interested in the local cuisine.”

  “Do you not suffer any of the sickness, like Lenore?” He marveled at her resilience. “Are you so unaffected?”

  “I have never had the slightest bit of nausea.” A light breeze rustled her hair, and she lifted her face. “I detect an aroma of various spices.”

  When they arrived at the dock, the seaman tied down the jolly boat, and Damian lifted his lady to the boards. Although he had visited Tripoli on previous occasions, that evening he saw it again, as if for the first time, through Lucy’s eyes, and nothing escaped her, as evidenced by her numerous questions.

  “For your pleasure, I hired a muleteer to take us on a quick drive through the city, before we dine.” With care, Damian lifted her into the cart. “I thought you might enjoy the sights, especially the Roman Arch of Marcus Aurelius.”

  “Really?” As he predicted, she could not sit still. “The Roman Arch?”

  “Indeed, sweetheart.” Perched beside her, he draped an arm about her shoulders.

  “Is your wife comfortable, sir?” the local driver inquired.

  Lucy chuckled. “But I am—”

  “She is fine, thank you.” When she narrowed her stare, Damian winked.

  The ride was a tad rough, given the cart had no springs, but his lady took it in stride, as they toured the city. And he availed himself of their respective positions to stroke the sensitive skin at the base of her neck, as he acted as her guide and detailed relevant facts about different locales. Twice he stole a kiss, when they navigated a relatively uninhabited area. Then, to his shock and amazement, Lucy rested her palm to his thigh, in an innocent expression of affection, and his loins erupted in flames.

  ~

  “Damian, are you all right?” Lucy blinked, as her oh-so charming host stopped, mid-sentence, and she gave him a gentle shake. “Damian?”

  “Yes, I am fine.” Confused by his peculiar behavior, when he had been nothing but delightful during their tour, she pressed her hand to his forehead. “What are you doing?”

 
; “Checking for a fever.” Concerned, she studied his lips for any abnormality. “How do you feel?”

  “A little warm, but I suspect it is the climate.” He tugged on his cravat and shifted on the bench. “Driver, take us to the restaurant.”

  “Perhaps you should open your coat.” She slipped free the first button.

  “No.” He pulled to the side, but she managed to undo the second and third studs, and he wrenched free. “Lucy, I am all right.”

  “But I only want to make you comfortable.” She swept apart the wool fabric, and a noticeable bulge tented the placket of his breeches. “Oh.”

  Without a word, her dashing duke covered himself with his hands, but she had studied enough books on human anatomy to know what troubled him, and she was thrilled.

  “You want me,” she whispered. “You really want me.”

  “Of course, I do.” With a huff, he secured his coat. “That was never in doubt.”

  “It was for me.” She swallowed hard and reflected on the stark truth. “So many nights I lay awake, wondering if you can overlook my ruin, and that is what restrains me, in regard to our wedding.”

  “I am sorry, Lucy.” To her delight, he again draped his arm about her shoulders. “As I told you, it is not for a lack of passion that I delay. Indeed, it is because I hold you in high esteem, and I would not treat you with less respect than you deserve.”

  “Perhaps, tonight, when we return to the ship, we might explore the possibilities.” In that instant, she realized what stimulated him, and she set her palm to his thigh. This time, to her chagrin, he brushed her aside.

  “We are here, sweetheart.” The cart slowed and came to a halt before a building that featured stucco framework and colored glass windows. Damian jumped to the sidewalk and then turned to hand her down.

  “I do not believe it.” A shiver of elation coursed her spine, as she spied Lance, Cara, Jason, and Alex lingering near the entry, and she ran to them. “My friends, it is marvelous to see you.”

  “Hello, Lucy.” Alex offered a welcoming hug. “We were so surprised to receive Damian’s note, detailing your presence aboard the Sagremor, but I am thrilled. How are you enjoying your first mission?”