The Duke's Refuge

by Lorri Dudley

  “And pink because it’s a feminine color.”

  “Quite so. Her sister, Ann, put that in her head, and Georgia took it to heart. If you could only have seen her before, it would help you appreciate the lengths Georgia has taken. She worked incredibly hard to be accepted by the le bon ton and master the fashionable set, down to her walk, her smiles, flirtations, and how to hide her intelligence behind meaningless banter. Her outer beauty also helped polite society overlook her disastrous first season.”

  “What happened her first season?”

  Lady Pickering’s thin brows arched. “She was sent out into society like a lamb to the slaughter. Her free spirit was crushed within a fortnight. Georgia was different and polite society isn’t accepting of different. Most ladies would have hidden and taken up residence in the country, but not Georgia, she adapted.”

  “Did her transformation help her relationship with her mother?”

  “Yes and no. Now that Georgia dressed as a woman, her mama paid her some attention, but Nora still favored her other girls. Georgia ate up the attention like a starved animal. It became her driving force. She thought if she could out-do her sisters, she could earn her mother’s love.”

  “And to do that she needed to marry well.” A muscle in his jaw tensed. “So she sought the attention of the Earl of Claremont.”

  “Yes, but from your expression, I can see you mirror the same dislike of the man that I feel.” She placed a hand over Harrison’s. “In my opinion, she began to rely too much on her appearance, and it attracted the wrong sort of gentleman like Claremont. But he’s a far improvement from the Viscount of Ashburnham.”

  “Ashburnham.” Harrison spit the man’s name like a curse. Ashburnham was the reason the King had summoned Harrison and Max back to London. The unscrupulous wretch was attempting to lay hands on his title and land by spreading rumors of Harrison’s demise.

  “Nora believes the viscount may inherit a Dukedom and hopes to make an advantageous match by marrying her last daughter off.” Lady Pickering slowly shook her head. “You can understand why I jumped at the chance to come here, because I knew it would remove Georgia from her current situation. I’m not certain I’ve thanked you properly.”

  She watched her niece, and Harrison followed her gaze. “Don’t mention it,” he mumbled. His image of a pretentious, fickle socialite merged with the vulnerable woman he’d witnessed today, and the insecure tomboy Lady Pickering described, struggling for scraps of love from her mother.

  As if she felt his gaze upon her, Georgia looked up and caught his eye. Their gazes held. Her smile started to fade, so he held up his glass in salute and flashed her a broad grin. Her brows drew together in a puzzled expression before she resumed conversing with her father.

  Harrison chuckled. Why did he delight so much in keeping her flustered? If Georgia truly was as her aunt described, he might enjoy discovering the woman underneath the protective façade of pink.

  Chapter 14

  …It appears Lord Claremont’s affection for Miss Lennox has waned in her absence. He has reportedly been seen in the company of several ladies, including Miss Cynthia Orville, a close acquaintance of Miss Lennox. It appears Miss Orville has set her cap for the earl.

  —Authored by the Lady L. gossip columnist and featured in The Morning Post

  Georgia’s lips pressed together and her nose wrinkled as she peered into the small hand mirror. A light dusting of freckles had sprung up across the bridge of her nose. She scowled at them as if it were possible to frighten them away.

  They didn’t budge.

  With a resigned sigh, she placed the mirror back on her dressing table. She could imagine Max’s taunting if she told him she could no longer fish because it was ruining her complexion. A boy wouldn’t understand.

  She untied her extra wide brim bonnet and tossed it on the bed. Today they’d had a decent catch—a couple of bluefish and a grouper. It had become a daily routine for Max and her to sneak in some early morning fishing before he headed off to school with his father.

  Their fishing expeditions had become the highlight of her day. As they waited for the big one to bite, they took turns imagining what they would do if they caught a shark or a gigantic whale, weaving maritime adventure tales to pass the time.

  She was surprised how much she enjoyed Max’s company. For the first time in a long while, she was able to let her guard down and be herself. When it was the two of them, she didn’t have to hold herself so upright. She didn’t have to force a demure smile or tilt her head just so. No longer being under her mother’s watchful eyes and her sisters’ judgmental glances allowed her to relax and be herself.

  She picked up her writing pen for the third time that morning. Her hand hovered over the paper until the ink threatened to drip. She should write her mother and sisters, but try as she might, she couldn’t decide what to say.

  Island life is delightful. Everyone begs for my attention, and I’ll be attending a ball this weekend. It’s to be a grand affair.

  She frowned at the paper.

  I’ve taken back up fishing, and you should see the twenty-pounder I caught from the shoreline.

  Georgia smiled at the thought of her mother’s face if she posted the latter.

  After dropping the pen back into the inkwell, Georgia pushed away from her writing desk. She scooped up her bonnet and pink parasol on her way out of her room. At the parlor door, she paused.

  Her father didn’t notice her as he sat with the overseer discussing the sugar crop. Papa rubbed his chin, deep in thought regarding some question posed. She didn’t want to bother him, so she turned and hunted for her aunt.

  She found her enjoying the ocean breeze from a rocking chair on the porch with a round-faced gentleman. The man appeared to be around the same age as Aunt Tessa and spoke with an Irish-lilt as they rocked in complete synchronicity.

  Aunt Tessa looked up from her embroidery as Georgia approached. “Georgia. This is Mr. Evan Clark, the local vicar.”

  Mr. Clark removed his hat and started to rise.

  “No need.” Georgia waved for him to keep his seat. “I don’t mean to interrupt. I’m going for a stroll. Would you care to join me?”

  “You go along, dear. I’m enjoying Mr. Clark’s company and I’m determined to finish this tricky stitch. I was hoping to embellish some of the new gowns your father ordered with a bit of decorative lace, but there isn’t much time. Don’t forget, Madame Lefleur is coming this afternoon for a fitting. We are so blessed she was able to accommodate us with such short notice.”

  Georgia waved as she strolled down the drive. The sand and dirt felt smooth through the soles of her shoes. In London, it would have been improper to go anywhere without a lady’s maid or companion trailing behind her. She was always under constant observation and inspection. Raising her arms above her head, she relished an unladylike stretch without anyone seeing. Island life did have a few perks.

  A light breeze pushed back the thick humid air and ruffled the pink hem of her skirt. All of her delicate fabrics had been destroyed by either the ocean or the storm, but thankfully, Jenneigh had repaired a couple of her sturdier gowns—a light pink cotton walking dress with short sleeves that didn’t overheat her and a thicker mauve fustian dress.

  An avian chorus twittered and chattered in the canopy of trees above her. Rich green thickets covered the ground below, littered with pops of colorful blooms. Tiny brown geckos scurried up the trunks of gnarly trees. As she rounded a bend, the verdant green of the sugar cane undulated in the wind, rising and falling like the tide. In some areas, the cane even towered above her. A low, sweet moan filled her ears, along with a cadenced whacking noise.

  At a break in the thick cane, dark ragged men with large crescent-shaped machetes attacked the cane in rhythm. Women in bright dresses stood behind them, gathering the felled stalks into bundles. Their voices joined in a soulful harmony.

  A few stopped and stared as she passed, but most continued their work. Georgia
fell into step with the workers’ tempo, and she lost herself in the untamed beauty of the island. Though she couldn’t make out the words, she sang along with the catchy melody, making up her own lyrics.

  Rumbling wheels sounded behind her, and she jolted out of her reverie. She turned to see a familiar wagon approaching.

  “Miss Georgia,” Max called.

  A smile tugged her face and she waved at her friend. As the horses slowed to a stop, her gaze drifted to Harrison, dressed in fawn buckskins, a white muslin shirt, and a camel-colored waistcoat. All well-made, though a bit worn.

  His strong hands grasped the reins with commanded control. As he stood and rested a booted foot on the wagon’s sideboard, his posture exhibited a subtle regality. He’d surely rubbed elbows with nobility. She’d swear on it from the quiet, confident manner with which he held himself, the surety of his self-worth. His caramel eyes found hers, and he raised a mocking eyebrow.

  “Miss Lennox, you’ve become a native.”

  Make that a pompous, boorish manner. Heat rose in her cheeks. He must have overheard her singing. “Hardly.”

  Max hung over the side of the wagon. “Come to school with us.”

  Georgia shook her head. She and children didn’t mix well. Except for Max. With him it was different.

  “Come on. Please. Papa could use the help—”

  “I don’t think Miss Lennox would be—” Harrison folded his arms.

  “We’re teaching them to read.” Max tilted his head. “You can read, can’t you?”

  Georgia couldn’t help but smile at the lad. “Of course, I can read.”

  “Well, all right then. Hop in.”

  Georgia stood frozen, staring into the boy’s pleading brown eyes. She couldn’t say no, but she didn’t want to say yes. Harrison’s brow held a skeptical crease, but he slowly unfolded his arms and offered to assist her up. Her hand, as if of its own will, slid into his. He pulled her up next to him on the bench seat. “The schoolchildren don’t bite.”

  Menacing lout.

  He smiled as he snapped the reins.

  She glared at him, wondering if he could read her thoughts. Had she gone mad? Why would she accept an offer to spend an entire day with this frustrating man and a pack of wild children?

  She continued to chastise herself as Max babbled on about fishing during the rest of the ride.

  “Here we are.” Harrison reined in the horses next to a one-room stone building. It had a thatched roof and large shuttered windows.

  After settling the horses, they all stepped into the school. As Max and Harrison opened the shutters to let in the light, Georgia surveyed the bare room with crude benches for seats and a single wooden podium stationed at the front.

  “It’s not much, but we make do.” Harrison dusted off his hands, then glanced up. “Here come some of the children now.”

  A fair-haired boy walked in with a smaller version of himself in tow. Georgia guessed the older boy to be about twelve and the younger to be six. The younger seated himself on the front row and the elder in the row behind him. More children filed in until there were nine in all, plus Max. Four girls and six boys.

  “All right, class, let’s get settled. I’d like you all to welcome Miss Lennox, who graciously joined us today.”

  Georgia fought the urge to fidget, nervous with all those little eyes honed in on her as they chorused, “Good morning, Miss Lennox.”

  “Who would like to lead us in prayer?”

  Hands shot up all around the room. “Thomas.” Harrison pointed at a small dark-haired boy sitting next to Max. “Let’s bow our heads and pray.”

  The boy folded his hands, rested his forehead on top, and squeezed his eyes shut. “Dear Heavenly Father, thank you for this day and for our teacher Mr. Wells and for our guest Miss Len…” He opened one eye and peeked up at Harrison.

  “Miss Lennox.”

  “Yes, Miss Lennox. Lord, help us to learn and be smart and more like Jesus. Bless our friends who aren’t here today. Protect our parents while they work…”

  Georgia listened to the child’s heartfelt prayer. Did everyone here pray to God like He was in the room with them? Where were all the doths and thous? Could a person simply talk to God?

  “And Lord, please, please let the sugar grow. In Jesus’ name we pray, amen.”

  They all raised their heads, and Harrison said, “Well done, Thomas.”

  Next, they recited the Lord’s Prayer from their shared hornbooks. The class all sat perfectly still in their seats, doing as Mr. Wells instructed them. Georgia couldn’t imagine her rambunctious nephews and nieces sitting so. She remembered her sister complaining about how their tutors frequently quit without giving notice. Maybe these children were different. All she could do was hope.

  “Alexandra, please read,” Harrison instructed.

  “In Adam’s fall. We sinned all.”

  “Very good,” Harrison said. “Now, William.”

  A thin boy who’d been staring out the window stiffened and turned his attention back to the primer. “Thy life to mend. This book attend.”

  Harrison surprised Georgia by not commenting on the boy’s inattentiveness. He let the words the boy needed to read get the point across in a way that wouldn’t humiliate the child.

  “Good. Henry, your turn.”

  After finishing the reader, the children broke into smaller groups. Harrison sat among one group, challenging the older children with harder material. Georgia worked with the younger ones, aiding them with pointers on how to sound out the words the same way her governess had shown her.

  After Mary sounded out “Sat-ur-day,” she stole a glance up at Georgia with a shy smile and a sparkle of triumph in her eyes. Something blossomed in Georgia’s chest, and she wanted to clap her hands with joy.

  “Wonderful, Mary. Keep reading.”

  Who knew helping children learn to read could be so satisfying?

  A sneeze sounded outside the doorway. Georgia glanced through the opening and caught sight of Booker sitting against the outer wall listening in. As Mary continued to read, Georgia scooted her bench a little closer to the door, and a little closer, and a little closer, until she was partially in the doorway. She held the book so that all the children could see, including Booker, despite being separated from the other children by a wall. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught him mouthing the words as the other children read, and a couple of times he even mouthed the words beforehand.

  After lunch, they conducted the class outdoors. Georgia meandered to the edge of the gathered children, peeking around the corners of the schoolhouse for Booker. She wanted to ask him how his mother fared.

  “Booker comes here while his grandma washes clothes.” Harrison walked toward her. “But he must return home for chores before his master notices his absence.”

  Harrison called the children to gather around. They kneeled together in a small circle for a game that involved addition and subtraction, moving flat stones in and out of small cup-like holes dug in the ground.

  Georgia opened her parasol and stood behind them in the rose-colored shade. The children divided into teams—boys versus girls. Max scooped up a bunch of the rocks, and the boys cheered, but if her math was right, he missed a play that would have added three more points.

  Harrison patted him on the back, then squinted up at Georgia. The sun turned his eyes a warm brown and drew auburn highlights out of the thick waves of his dark hair.

  Maybe a little sun could be good for the soul. But that thought went against everything her mother had preached.

  “You should join us.” Harrison’s deep voice rumbled just loud enough to be heard over the children.

  She straightened. “I think not.”

  But the way he continued to peer up at her made her want to hide deeper under her parasol for protection. “Ladies don’t crawl around in the dirt.”

  “It’s fun.” He shrugged out of his jacket and laid it to cover the ground next to him. He waved her down
. “Come on. You’ll be sorry you missed it.”

  Mary scooped up the next round of rocks but couldn’t beat Max’s score.

  “He’s on a roll.” Harrison twisted to glance at Georgia. “Someone needs to beat him, or you’ll have to listen to him brag about how boys are smarter when you’re fishing tomorrow.”

  Georgia chewed the inside of her lip. No, she wouldn’t demean herself. But on the other hand, she didn’t relish hearing Max boast. For only eight, he could certainly be a braggart, and his Papa merely encouraged him.

  Max picked up another three points. He raised his hands in triumph and scanned the faces to ensure everyone noticed.

  Maybe the child needed to be put in his place.

  “Oh, fine, scoot over.” She snapped her parasol shut and squeezed in between Harrison and Mary. Her arm tingled where Harrison’s shoulder brushed against hers. But instead of scooting away, she found herself enjoying his touch, maybe even slightly leaning into him. His tanned fingers splayed within inches of her own, and she imagined how warm they would feel placed over hers.

  Max gained two more points, breaking Georgia out of her reverie. She whispered to Mary, who then snatched up three points before Max could grab them. As the score evened, the children’s voices rose in excitement until they were shouting over one another. When it was Georgia’s turn, she quickly did the figures in her head, then dove for the cup filled with five stones before Max could. He reached for it at the same time, but instead of grabbing rocks, he caught her hand and yanked her into the dirt.

  His face blanched, but Georgia laughed and held up the five stones triumphantly. All the girls shot to their feet, jumping up and down and screaming. The boys demanded a rematch, but Harrison shooed them off with the promise of playing again tomorrow.

  As the school day ended, Max played outside with the other children. Georgia helped straighten the benches in the schoolroom, and more than once, the weight of Harrison’s gaze landed on her. But each time she met his look, he’d turn away and continue working.