The English Duke
Page 30
He was, in fact, trying to fight the impulse to kiss her. She was sitting there with her face pale, her lips tremulous. He wanted to calm her mouth, place his on it until she sighed against his lips.
“I’ve been trying to think of an inducement to make you marry me,” he said. “And I’m coming up with little to offer you. You don’t seem to care about Sedgebrook. Do you want to become a duchess?”
“Not particularly,” she said.
“Then I have little to offer. I could give you half the boathouse. You could do your work on one side while I worked on the other.”
“Would I get lunch there, too?”
“Absolutely. Perhaps we’d even have wine from time to time.”
“Would you balk at my expenditures for copper or a new compressor?” she asked.
“Hardly, since you’d make it possible for Sedgebrook to get a new roof.”
“There’s my ruined reputation,” she said. “That’s a good reason to marry as well. But I doubt marriage will save either of our good names after today. I think we’re destined to be shocking to a great many people.”
“Then it’s settled?” he said. “We’ll marry? Not, however, at Griffin House, unless it’s a private ceremony.”
She sat back against the seat. “Not a proposal steeped in romance,” she said.
“On the contrary. It’s extraordinarily romantic, given I’ve declared myself to you and you’ve done nothing of the sort. I’m working on the assumption that you’ll find yourself smitten with me in due course.”
“The Darling Duke,” she said, startling him.
“I beg your pardon?”
“That’s what I’ll call you,” she said. She smiled at him, which lightened his heart immeasurably. “You could offer me you. It’s all I really need. I love you, too. I think I fell in love with you long before we ever met in person.”
He reached over and pulled her onto his lap, desperate to kiss her. He found, to his immense relief, his leg didn’t object at all to Martha being there.
“I love you, too,” she said once more.
He pulled back and looked at her. “You really are my Joan of Arc, you know.”
She was not going to weep at the look on his face or the expression in his eyes. He was letting her see all his vulnerabilities, everything he held back from other people.
She was well aware of what a great gift he’d given her.
Instead of weeping, she decided it was time for another kiss.
Chapter 36
The reception for a wedding that never happened became a celebration for a marriage just announced.
Jordan Hamilton, the Duke of Roth, was to marry Martha York in a fortnight, the ceremony to be held at the bride’s home, the minister presiding. Only the immediate family would be in attendance, which meant Susan York.
Josephine had taken herself off to London, the whispered rumors said. Not only had she left Griffin House with no maid, but she’d done so in the company of the duke’s friend. People couldn’t decide whether they were shocked, horrified, scandalized, or simply fascinated by the tale.
No further reception would be held at Martha York’s wedding, so the villagers took advantage of this one, drinking their fill of ale, wine, and whiskey and eating all the wonderful treats offered up for their palates.
Susan York’s name was mentioned often, but not as much as the Duke of Roth’s. Wasn’t he a handsome man? Didn’t he have an air about him? And Martha York, when had she become so attractive? Maybe it had something to do with love, being as she was seen standing so close to the duke during the whole of the reception. Did you notice how the two of them were always holding hands?
Two hours into the reception, Martha wanted to escape all of it. From the look in Jordan’s eyes, he felt the same. Plus, he had a carefully neutral expression on his face, one that meant his leg was paining him.
The whole of Griffin House had been turned over to the celebration. People were wandering throughout the parlors while the staff was furiously filling up trays and carrying barrels and casks out to the serving tables.
The only place to escape was the cottage and they headed there as quickly as they could.
“We can lock the door and no one can bother us,” she said.
“You just want more kissing.”
She glanced over at him and smiled. “Well, there is that,” she said. “But more important, you can sit for a while.” A moment later she shook her head at him. “Don’t frown at me. You know you want to. It doesn’t mean you’re an invalid. Besides, I’d rather you keep your strength for other things.”
“And what would that be?”
“Launching the Goldfish again,” she said. “Recording our distance trials.”
His laughter was contagious.
She opened the cottage door and did exactly as she’d promised, closed and locked the door behind them. Once that was done, she turned to find herself in his arms.
“You do want kissing,” he said.
Sometime later, they surfaced to smile at each other.
She’d never been as happy as she was at this moment. Yet her joy was tinged with sadness. Her father wasn’t here. She couldn’t help but think he’d be celebrating both the Goldfish’s successful launch and her coming marriage.
Martha’s relationship with Josephine was filled with question marks and possibly always would be. For now, she wasn’t going to think about Josephine or what she tried to do.
“The Goldfish,” Jordan said, staring beyond her. “It’s gone.”
He circled her, going to the cleared table. She followed him.
“I had it brought to the cottage,” he said. “Evidently, Reese stole it again.”
The surge of anger she felt was not unexpected. What was strange was Jordan’s smile. When she questioned his amusement, he turned to her and kissed her lightly.
“I had a feeling he’d try to grab it again,” he said, turning and walking to the cabinet in the far wall. “Reese is ambitious. The Goldfish would do a lot to elevate him in the War Office.”
He opened the cabinet door, retrieving what looked like the entire stern section of one of her vessels. To her surprise, it belonged to the Goldfish, containing all of its guidance system, rudder, and propeller.
When she looked at Jordan questioningly, he smiled.
“I just replaced it with a section from another one of your prototypes.”
She stared at him in amazement. “Then what he has won’t even float.”
“I know,” he said, grinning at her.
Outside the cottage two groups, situated on either side of Griffin House’s expansive lawn, offered up entertainment: a string quartet that played cultured and refined selections and another, more raucous ensemble of village musicians with fiddles and flutes. People danced to one or the other or congregated in groups, smiling and talking about the scandal they’d witnessed that afternoon.
Inside the cottage, Jordan and Martha ignored them all, being involved with reciprocating engines, bending copper, buoyancy rates, and kisses.
Author’s Note
The Topographical & Statistics Department (also known alternatively as the Department of Topography & Statistics) began in 1854 as an organization collating military statistics as well as creating maps of sensitive locations. Later, the T&SD became the Intelligence Branch of the War Office. However, since the book takes place in 1871, I’ve imagined that the structural and mission changes were already beginning in the T&SD and put Reese in the middle of those. Learning of advances in military art and science—such as the York Torpedo Ship—would have been of intense interest to the T&SD.
The stationary mines used by Russia in the Crimean War were called torpedoes. The self-propelled definition of the word torpedo is from the twentieth century. The Whitehead torpedo, developed in 1866 by an Englishman named Robert Whitehead was the first successful torpedo as we currently understand the term today. As a self-propelled vessel it used compressed air as an energy so
urce.
Sedgebrook is loosely based on Castle Howard, located about fifteen miles northeast of York in England.
In 1813 the Royal Central Institute of Gymnastics was founded in Sweden. A physical therapist in Sweden is a sjukgymnast—or someone involved in gymnastics for those who are ill. I like to think Henry’s training helped Jordan achieve the ability to use his damaged leg.
The American Duke
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About the Author
KAREN RANNEY wanted to be a writer from the time she was five years old and filled her Big Chief tablet with stories. People in stories did amazing things and she was too shy to do anything amazing. Years spent in Japan, Paris, and Italy, however, not only fueled her imagination but proved she wasn’t that shy after all.
Now a New York Times and USA Today bestseller, she prefers to keep her adventures between the covers of her books. Karen lives in San Antonio, Texas, and loves to hear from her readers at karen@karenranney.com.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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