The Duke's Refuge

by Lorri Dudley

  “How fares your mother?” she asked.

  “Ah, well the trip was horrid for her aches and pains, but she’s mended now that she’s within the luxury of the Artesian Hotel. She declares that within the few days we’ve been here, the healing baths have helped regain her constitution. Our stay so far has been delightful. The accommodations are adequate and the food, though unique, has been tasty. Oh, and our host, Mr. Edward Rousseau, is a delightful chap.” He glanced down at her. “I’m sure you’ve made his acquaintance, this being such a small island.”

  “Yes. We’ve met.” She wasn’t willing to elaborate more. Delightful chap—Ha!

  He stopped and peered down at her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch that.”

  She smiled and rolled the end of her parasol with her fingertips. “I want to hear more of London.”

  His eyes lit up. “Well, you remember the Ingram fellow. It turns out, he…”

  While Julien prattled about news of London, Georgia glanced up at the sun illuminating her parasol. Funny, but it was her last pink item.

  Her past behavior now almost seemed comical. When her sister mentioned pink was a feminine color, Georgia had interpreted it to mean that in order to be beautiful, she must wear pink. In her insane desire to outdo her sisters, she took it to the extreme and dressed solely in pink. But what good came of that? Hadn’t it merely created more jealousy? Would the cycle of having to outdo one another ever end, or would top that be inscribed on her headstone?

  “Then the two came to blows. Over Miss Crawford, no doubt…”

  What did it matter now what her sisters thought of her, or what her mother thought? They would have to learn to love her for who she was because she wouldn’t go back to pretending.

  Besides, Harrison found her beautiful.

  Harrison. She didn’t have to pretend, or bat her eyes, or wear a specific color, in order to be noticed by him. He’d seen her at her ugliest moments, moments when she’d been selfish, conceited, and manipulative. He loved her despite it all. He loved her for who she was, but he’d sailed away.

  “The poor bloke was in his cups…”

  Her gaze drifted over Julien, dressed as if he’d shopped in Beau Brummel’s wardrobe. He associated with royalty and was part of the aristocracy. He lived among the top of the social ladder, but would he love her for who she was?

  No.

  She stepped back and snapped her parasol shut.

  “Got himself leg-shackled.” His tone resounded with pity, witnessing to his contempt for the marriage sacrament.

  How had she been so blind? A surge of certainty rolled through her, giving her the boldness to speak her mind. “I beg your pardon, but I can’t pull off this façade anymore.”

  He blinked at her and raised his brows.

  Georgia didn’t care. She shoved the parasol into the earl’s chest. He could keep the pink. She didn’t want it anymore.

  He clutched the umbrella and gaped at her as if she’d taken leave of her senses. “What facade?” He frowned. “Have you succumbed to the heat? The Miss Lennox I knew in London wouldn’t be caught dead leaving the house without gloves or having uneven nails. She also listened with rapt attention to my stories and graced me with lovely smiles.”

  A tingling sensation spread through Georgia’s extremities. Her heart swelled, creating an airy lightness that had her feeling as if her feet might float off the ground. This is what freedom feels like. A broad smile split her lips.

  “There’s the delightful smile I remember.” He stepped toward her.

  She backed away a couple of steps. “I have changed. I’m not the person you remember. God has changed me. He’s given me a different dream—a better dream.”

  Giddy mirth welled up in her throat at Julien’s expression of utter confusion. “It’s better if I go. Give your mother my regards.” She backed away a few more steps. “Oh, and if you come calling, I shall be indisposed.” She spun on her heel. “Good of you to pay a visit though,” she said over her shoulder as she strode away, sending up a silent thank you for God’s saving grace.

  She was free. Free from the charade of pretending to be someone she wasn’t. God had freed her from the possibility of a loveless marriage, her mother’s expectations, her past bitterness…

  …and from pink.

  Chapter 26

  …Please mend my broken heart. I fear it won’t heal of its own accord.

  —From Georgia Lennox to God (no need to be posted)

  “Princess?” Papa tapped on her door. “May we come in?”

  Georgia sniffed and wiped under her puffy eyes. She glanced at the large wet circle on her pillow and flipped it over so no one could see the evidence of her tears. How she wasn’t completely dehydrated was a wonder.

  The joy of being freed from others expectations had been quickly overshadowed by the realization that, once again, her dream—this time her new dream of a life with Harrison—had sailed away.

  After Harrison’s parting, she’d wept quietly in the solace of her room. But after two days, Papa and Aunt Tessa probably believed her to be ill. It was time for her to come out of hiding. It was time to make a plan, even if it no longer included Harrison. Inhaling a fortifying breath, she said, “Please, come in.” Her voice sounded hollow.

  “You haven’t been down for breakfast or supper,” Aunt Tessa said as she entered the room with Papa in tow.

  Georgia pulled herself into a seated position, and they sat on either side of her feet at the end of the bed.

  “Hattie said the meals she’s sent up have come back untouched.” Though his voice was reproving, Papa’s gaze was sympathetic.

  Her father was up and about, once again his old self. Praise God. Aunt Tessa, too, had more life in her eyes, a fact that may have something to do with the vicar.

  “I haven’t had much of an appetite, but no need to be concerned. It will pass.”

  “It’s my right as a father to be concerned.”

  She shook her head. “There’s nothing that can be done at this point. I made a mistake, and now it’s too late to do anything about it.”

  “Too late to tell Harrison your true feelings?” Papa said.

  She tilted her head. “You knew?”

  “We suspected.” Aunt Tessa smiled in pity.

  “It was in your eyes every time you looked at him.” Papa rubbed her knee. “It was the same way I used to look at your mother.”

  Georgia’s spirits fell. “And like you and mother, we’ll never see each other again.”

  “Maybe it’s time we remedy that.”

  “What do you mean?” Hope flared in her chest, but she didn’t dare consider his meaning.

  “If you love Harrison, then you should go after him. Never let him go. Don’t do what I did.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “The Essex has already sailed for England.”

  “There are other ships.”

  Georgia shook her head. “I can’t leave you, not with your illness.” She grasped her father’s hand. “I lost all those years with you. I don’t want to lose any more. Aunt Tessa and I aren’t going to leave you.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Aunt Tessa flushed and hid a shy smile. “Mr. Clark and I are getting married. I’m going to assist him in the school in Mr. Wells’s stead.”

  A genuine smile crossed Georgia's lips, and she hugged her aunt. “I’m so delighted for you. The two of you make a wonderful match.”

  “I haven’t been this happy since before Robert’s passing. Love is a beautiful thing.” Her expression grew serious, and she pointed at Georgia’s chest. “Which is why you shouldn’t let it slip away.”

  Georgia’s shoulders sagged. “But how can I? I don’t have a ship or a chaperone.”

  “Well.” Papa straightened and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve booked passage on the Mayfair. It’s sailing out of Basseterre in two days. I was hoping you’d keep me company on my voyage back to England.”


  Georgia jerked upright. “I don’t understand.”

  Papa smiled, and the lines in the corners of his eyes crinkled. “It’s about time I visited your mother. If she’s not going to get up enough nerve to ask me to come back, then I think I’ll go there and ask her myself. I don’t want to die with unforgiveness between us. It poisons the soul.” He nodded at her. “I was hoping you’d join me. I may need a supporter of my cause. Your mother has a formidable will.”

  Hope surged in her chest as she threw her arms around him. “I can’t believe it. We’re going home.” She pulled away. “But are you well enough to travel? It’s a long voyage. What if you have an episode?”

  “Then you’ll have to nurse me back to health as you’ve done before. Besides, I’ve only just recovered. Usually, there’s some time before a relapse. We’ll pray for God’s protection.”

  “Oh, Papa. I love you.” She squeezed her father tight.

  He hugged her back. “I love you too, princess.”

  The familiar burn of tears stung her eyes. She couldn’t believe it. They were going home.

  Georgia hadn’t grasped just how much Aunt Tessa, Hattie, and Jenneigh had come to mean to her in the past few months until she had to say farewell. There were plenty of tears during their parting, but after that, the voyage proceeded smoothly.

  The ship stopped twice for trade, once in Barbados and once in Trinidad. She tried not to let the delays frustrate her, but she strode above deck day after day, rehearsing what she’d say to Harrison once she located him.

  Locating him posed another dilemma. She’d questioned Papa repeatedly, but despite their friendship, Harrison was close-lipped about his past. Many of the people on the island were the same way. Papa said it was an unstated rule to give a man his privacy. They came to Nevis to start a new life and forget the past.

  When Georgia wasn’t sorting through points-in-case, she listed out potential leads on how to find Harrison. She knew he was an estate manager in the countryside surrounding Kent, and had family in London. At least that was something. Her father had encouraged her to leave it in God’s hands, but with so much idle time, what else had she to ponder?

  Georgia turned her practicing into prayer as she pleaded with God for wisdom for her and understanding from Harrison.

  Then one night, the longest night of her life, her prayers shifted focus as her father suffered one of his attacks. Confined to his stateroom, he burned with fever and slipped in and out of consciousness. His words were incoherent and filled with hallucinations.

  This was the first time she’d tended him through a sickness without Hattie’s help, and she changed the bedclothes and wrung out cloth after cloth saturated in sweat. She replaced them with damp ones on his forehead to keep it cool, but to no avail. One moment, he thrashed about as if on fire, then the next, he lay shivering as if on ice.

  In a lucid moment, his feverish lips parted. “Georgia?”

  His fingers sought hers, and she raised his hand to her cheek. Tears burned the back of her eyes.

  “I thank God for this fever. It’s what brought you to me.” He caught his breath. “It’s the reason I get to look upon your face now.” His eyes fluttered closed. “Remember, God is good all the time.”

  She nodded, even though he couldn’t see the response. The tears sliding down her cheeks made it hard to speak.

  He dozed off, and she sat by his side, listening to his breathing. Her exhaustion and fear were near to overwhelming, and she raised her face toward Heaven. “God, please don’t let him die. This is my fault. Once again, I put my needs first. Even though he wanted to sail, I never should have allowed it. I should have forced him to remain in Nevis instead of consenting to this…this torture.”

  A sob tore from her throat. She buried her face in the covers and murmured. “Don’t let him succumb to the fever, not now, not without any friends or family, except me who put him in this predicament. At least in Nevis, he’d have Hattie and Aunt Tessa. Oh Lord, please get him home. Give him a chance to make amends with Mama, Franny, Eleanor, and Ann.”

  And then, when the night seemed darkest, and the fever seemed its worst, the Lord’s tender presence filled her heart with light. Words of truth replaced her fears.

  Do not be afraid, for I am with thee.

  God’s comforting peace filled her. Theirs was not a hopeless journey. Even if the fever raged, joy would come in the morning.

  And it did. Even though the fever didn’t break, his hallucinations and nightmares stopped. Papa settled down, and she was able to feed him a couple spoonfuls of fish broth.

  Nothing scared her more than watching her father teeter on the brink of death, but God’s presence continued to settle her, giving her an anchor upon which to cling. God kept her going night after night, mopping the sweat from her papa’s brow and feeding him broth. Nursing him took over her days and nights until mercifully, his fever passed.

  She raised more than one prayer of thanks for the miracle. Papa had regained his strength in time for them to arrive in England.

  A swirling mist of yellow fog cloaked the docks and streets of London. Georgia filtered out the sounds of pulleys and shouts of men loading the ships for the next voyage. Her ears strained for the clip-clop of horses’ hooves signaling the arrival of her mother’s carriage. She’d forgotten how tepid the summers were in England and what it was like not to be wiping sweat off her brow. She hadn’t seen an ounce of fog in over three months.

  A runner had been sent with a note to inform Mama of her return. Georgia had wrestled with mentioning Papa, but decided against it. He agreed with the element of surprise. No need to give Mama time to think up excuses as to why he should go elsewhere.

  She glanced at her father, who appeared more nervous than she. He paced the dock, pulling his hands in and out of his pockets. He peered at his watch, then up the street. A seagull cried out overhead, startling him.

  She smiled and grasped his hand. “Don’t worry, Papa. A wise man once told me to let God lead. Mama will be happy to see you. Maybe not right away, but God will bring her around. You’ll see.”

  His eyes relaxed and a half smile grew on his lips. “When did you become so wise?”

  Papa distracted himself from Mama’s arrival by engaging in conversation with the sea captain. One trunk sat next to him, which held all their belongings. On the return trip, she’d only filled half the trunk, and it was all she needed. A far cry from the six trunks she’d brought to Nevis, five of which had been lost to the sea. Funny how she didn’t miss them at all.

  She inhaled the briny air and smiled. There was something about home. Even London’s gray skies and slight drizzle were welcome. The oppressive heat of Nevis wouldn’t be missed, but she’d grown fond of the bright colors and tropical fauna. It was another world, a beautiful, wondrous world, but London was home.

  She scanned the road and couldn’t help peering into each passerby’s face, hoping to see Harrison. She’d forgotten how large the city was, and her heart twisted at the daunting task in front of her.

  But she would not be defeated. Everyone knew the whereabouts of everyone on a small island like Nevis. England was merely a larger island. Besides, she’d sailed across the Atlantic, and God had sustained her. He would help her find Harrison too. She knew it.

  It wasn’t as if she didn’t have a plan. Papa knew the town where he’d worked. She’d start there. Surely, someone would know of his whereabouts. Her family also had social connections. Good estate managers were difficult to come by. Certainly, his name would come up if she put in the right inquiries to the right people.

  The Lennox coach, with her family’s emblem emblazoned on the side, maneuvered around a bend and rolled to a stop. The footman in their livery stepped down from the rumble seat, lowered the steps, and opened the door. Georgia smoothed her gown with her hands as old insecurities, rose to the surface. Would her mother find her lacking? But Georgia pushed the thought aside and stepped forward.

  Her mother desce
nded in a golden day gown that blended with the color of the fog.

  Georgia stepped forward. “Mama, you look wonderful.” She placed a kiss on either side of her cheeks. Mama appeared as regal as ever with her hair curled under an embellished leghorn hat. “I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you too, dear. But why have you returned without even penning a letter? Is Fredrick…did he…?”

  “Papa is well—”

  “And where is Tessa?”

  “Aunt Tessa is engaged to be married to a very nice man—a vicar. She decided to remain on Nevis.”

  “Heavens, Georgia. Where is your chaperone?” She pursed her lips. “Tell me you didn’t do something disastrous like crossing the Atlantic without a companion.”

  “I’m not a duenna.” Papa’s voice sounded behind her. “But I hope I made a suitable companion.”

  Mama’s eyes widened, and a gasp escaped her lips—her aplomb shaken. “Fredrick.”

  A grateful warmth spread through Georgia that she hadn’t warned mother about Papa. Otherwise, she would have missed the flash of joy and surprise. For a brief moment, the expression restored Mama’s youthful beauty.

  Mama’s hand rose to ensure every hair in her coiffeur remained in place. Her back straightened as she regained her composure and donned a sour grimace. “Are you passing through or have you decided to take up residence in London?” Mama’s face remained expressionless, but her voice held a lilt of hope.

  She still loved him. Georgia’s heart wanted to leap out of sheer delight. She’d known it, but there had been moments on the voyage that she’d worried her assessment of her mother’s feelings had been wrong.

  “That depends,” Papa said, his eyes never leaving Mama’s.

  A muscle twitched in Mama’s temple, and she crossed her arms.

  Georgia stepped in before an argument could break out. “It’s been a long voyage and we have much to discuss. Papa and I can explain our hasty return in the carriage.” She accepted the footman’s extended hand and stepped into the coach. She bit back a smile as Papa offered Mama his hand and aided her into the carriage. Her mother’s cheeks filled with a faint pink glow.