~ Phyllis
~ 1 ~
The Once Proud Goose – New York City
With great curiosity, Calvin Seton stared at the sign creaking above the inn door. He had to hand it to these Americans, the establishment had been christened with an exceptionally creative name. Truly, the most unique he’d encountered since the tavern dubbed The Moldy Eye in Scotland.
Shaking his musing away, Calvin adjusted his hat, grasped his walking stick and limped towards the three wooden steps leading into the inn. He was here for one purpose and one alone. Find the Duke of Danby’s illegitimate granddaughter, Dorothy Paxton, so he could drag her back to England kicking and screaming if necessary.
Just thinking of the job he’d reluctantly accepted had him gritting his teeth in irritation. While the duke paid well, Calvin didn’t think retrieving the man’s long-lost granddaughter constituted much of a position for a gentleman. But Calvin’s father and Danby were friends, and with Calvin’s military career up in flames, the position had been impossible to refuse. The old duke had expertly appealed to Calvin’s ego, arguing that no other man had the necessary skills for the job. As a high-ranking scout officer, Calvin had done reconnaissance on a regular basis for three long years.
Lamplight shone golden and inviting through the window, beckoning Calvin up the steps. The tantalizing scent of roasted meat and ale wafted from the door. Even if his quest for Miss Paxton didn’t end here, he could certainly use a hot meal. He swung the door inward and—
Crash!
An entire table toppled, sending several pints and plates filled with food rolling across the floor. Calvin jumped back to keep from getting anything splattered on his boots.
A young woman in brown, homespun garb, hurried around one side, squaring off with a man who looked to be in his 50th year. “Mr. Slater, I’ll have to ask you to leave.” The girl held her chin at a defiant angle as she kept the toppled table between herself and the man.
“Come now, missy. I offered to pay ye fer it.”
“The services you’re referring to are not offered at my establishment. Kindly leave.”
Shock washed through Calvin. This place was hers? Impossible! She was too young—mayhap early in her twentieth year. He must have not heard correctly.
The handful of patrons scattered about the room, gawking at the display. They seemed less inclined to help the young serving girl. Biding his time, Calvin took a few careful steps forwards, more than prepared to help the wench if these savage Americans didn’t feel the need.
Slater staggered two steps around the corner of the table with the obvious intent to continue pursuit of his petite young prey.
“I’m warning you, Mr. Slater. Jeremy will be back any moment and Mrs. Currey is right up those stairs. Leave now.” The young woman hurried towards a door leading to the back room.
Slater chuckled. “Missy, yer threats don’t scare me.” He reached out to grab her, but she darted away. “Come now, my dear. I bet ye’ve never ‘ad a man like me in yer bed.”
The man with silver streaks through his dark hair drew closer to the young woman by the second, and if Slater didn’t back away, Calvin would interfere. The poor girl would not be able to fight off Slater by herself.
She glared at her attacker, swiping a blonde curl off her forehead, pushing it back toward the bun skewed on her neck. “I can assure you, Mr. Slater, I will never want that kind of man.” She held up a hand, her palm facing him. “I beg you to leave. I see no need for violence.”
“Pity,” Calvin interrupted, grasping Slater’s shoulder, “but I do.”
Slater jumped and whirled, his glassy, drunken eyes wide with shock at being confronted by a stranger. “This is none of yer business.”
Calvin tightened his grip, making the man flinch. “The lady asked you to leave. I suggest you do so before I feel the need to help you through that door.”
“Lady?” Slater belched, and it was followed by a laugh. “You think she’s a lady?”
He shoved at Calvin, making his stumble back into a table. A pain shot through his injured leg and he grimaced.
“Lo, look what we ‘ave ‘ere.” Slater pointed towards Calvin. “A cripple who wants to play rescuer.”
The bulky man began to turn towards the young woman again. Calvin gripped his cane harder and struggled to be of some assistance. Just then the woman swiped a bottle across Slater’s head. Breaking glass fell around the man mere seconds before he fell, slamming to the floor in an unconscious heap. Blood trickled from the cut on his forehead.
Shuffling of feet pounded on the floor as a man—not much younger than the woman—ran in from outside. He stood over Slater’s body, shifting his gaze between him and the woman. “Dorothy? What have you done this time?”
Calvin blinked with wide eyes. Dorothy? As in Dorothy Paxton? Silently, he prayed this was not the duke’s granddaughter.
She dropped the neck of the broken bottle before planting her hands on her slim hips. Her gaze stayed on the younger man throwing an accusing glare. “Jeremy, do not lay blame at my feet. Anyone here will tell you Mr. Slater made unwanted advances towards me.” Her eyes moved to Calvin, and she pointed. “Ask this man right here.”
Jeremy looked upon Calvin for the first time. Within seconds, the young man’s eyes widened as they traveled over Calvin. In fact, the woman acted as if she finally noticed him as well.
“I’m much obliged to you for assisting my sister,” George said and bowed.
Calvin returned the bow. “I could see how foxed the man was, and because of his intoxicated state, he would not listen to your sister’s warning. I feared for your sister’s safety.”
Jeremy turned to a couple of other men. “Help me move Slater outside.”
The clatter of footsteps on the stairs had Calvin turning towards the noise. A buxom woman hustled into view. She gasped and ran to Dorothy.
“Miss Paxton, what happened here? Did another bloke try to force himself on you?”
Bloody hell! Calvin’s hopes dropped. This couldn’t possibly be… No, he couldn’t believe it. Yet the more he watched her—now relaxed and smiling as if she owned the victorious moment—the more she resembled her grandfather, Duke of Danby.
Things were getting worse by the minute.
Taking a deep breath, Calvin surged towards a table and sat. Dorothy eyed him suspiciously as she helped the older woman lift the table that had toppled earlier. She and the woman talked in low voices as they cleaned the floor, but Calvin could not understand them. His mind was still trying to wrap around the fact that this woman was the duke’s granddaughter.
How was he supposed to bring her back to her grandfather looking like this, in the worn and dirty clothes of a working class woman? And especially a woman who owns the inn! The old duke was way up in years, and there had been rumors of his health declining. Seeing his long-lost granddaughter like this would certainly put the old man in his grave.
Once the food had been picked off the floor and the other patrons were seated at their tables, Dorothy’s gaze rested fully on him. Eyes wide, she glanced over Calvin from the top of his hat down the length of his body to his Hessian boots. A smirk played upon her mouth.
“Good day, miss,” Calvin greeted.
“Good day?” she answered. “You think this is a good day?”
“I’m quite certain you have had better,” he quickly corrected.
Chuckling, she shook her head. “Actually, mister, this is a normal day for me. Now, what can I get you? Food or drink?”
“Forgive me, but I’m not here for either. As it were, I’m looking for someone.”
“I gathered as much.” She tilted her head. “But I don’t give out information unless you order a drink or a meal.”
Placing his hat on the table, he leaned forwards. Peering directly into her steely blue eyes, he slid a couple coins on the surface. “If that is your game, then serve me a whiskey. Watered down, if you please.”
“If I please?” She sn
orted again. She grabbed the coins then moved quickly into the other room. Within seconds, she brought him a cup and set it in front of him.
Calvin had to give the woman some credit. Her establishment was clean, and service was quick. “I thank you, miss.” He grinned. “You service is very accurate, indeed. Here is another shilling for being so hasty.” He slid the coin on the table.
“Thank you kindly, my lord.” She pocketed the money. “Now, what were you saying about finding someone?”
He had no plans of drinking the vile liquid, so he pushed it aside. “I’m looking for a certain woman, and the trail has led me here to New York. In fact, this very establishment.”
“Does this woman have a name?”
“Dorothy Paxton.”
Her eyes widened once again. “Pray, why would you be looking for her?”
“I’ve been sent to find her. Now, if you will, I would like some answers.”
She shrugged. “Forgive me, but I cannot help. I’ve never heard of her.”
Calvin couldn’t believe she was lying to him. “I beg to differ. Not more than ten minutes ago, I heard your brother call you Dorothy, and the other woman called you Miss Paxton.”
Dorothy rolled her eyes. “Perhaps you heard wrong. After all, Paxton does rhyme with…um…a lot of words.” She folded her arms. “Besides, why are you looking for her?”
He couldn’t stop the smile pulling on his mouth, so he smoothed his mustache with his finger and thumb. “Why are you so interested in knowing?”
She shrugged. “I’m curious. You’re the first person who has wandered into town looking for someone I have never heard of.”
“I plan on staying here until I find some answers, too. So perhaps you should get used to me.”
“Perhaps.” She arched an eyebrow. “What’s your name, stranger?”
He shook his head. “Hmm…I think that question is going to cost you.”
Her cheeks reddened and her gaze narrowed. He tried his best not to grin. Two could play her game.
“What is your price?” she finally asked.
Surprising, but the more he studied the woman’s face, the lovelier she became. Long, thick lashes outlined her blue eyes. And she had the prettiest shaped mouth he’d ever seen. One way or another, he had to earn her trust. He didn’t want to have to take her back to England fighting him the whole way. “I was thinking about dinner sometime.”
She chuckled. “Mister, I believe you can have dinner anytime you wish. All you have to do is order it, and I shall serve it promptly.”
What a refreshing sense of humor she had. He shook his head. “No, you misunderstand. I’d like to have dinner with you.”
She flipped her hand through the air. “That you won’t get, I fear.”
He pulled away from the bar. “Then I suppose you don’t want to know my name badly enough, do you?”
Dorothy took an obvious, deep breath. Silence stretched between them for several seconds before she blew out a gust of air between her lips. “Fine. I shall have dinner with you tonight. Now are you going to tell me your name, my lord?”
Placing the hat on his head, he adjusted it low over his forehead and stood. “I am Mr. Calvin Seton. I am the third son of an earl, so you need not refer to me as my lord.”
“Are you indeed from England?”
“Yes. Surrey, to be exact.” He winked. “I trust you will be ready tonight by seven o’clock?”
She rolled her eyes. “If I must, I suppose I shall be ready by then.”
Although she tried to speak properly, Calvin heard the sarcasm in her speech. He gave her a grin, grabbed his hat and turned away, sauntering out of the inn.
~ 2 ~
Numbness crawled over Dorothy, leaving her mind frozen with fear. There could only be one reason a man from England would come to New York to find her.
Grandfather—the bastard who had been ashamed that his son had sired an illegitimate daughter!
Mother had told her all about Lord George Whitton, whom she’d fallen hopelessly in love with. Lord George had been a sailor—a smuggler, to be precise. Dorothy’s mother had fallen in love fast, and from the way she told the story, Lord George had returned the feeling. Yet he had left on the next tide, not even leaving Dorothy’s pregnant mother a shilling to help bring Dorothy into the world.
Five years later, Dorothy’s mother tried to contact Lord George’s father, the Duke of Danby, to see if the duke would spare some coins to help Dorothy through school. Danby wouldn’t have anything to do with rubbish schemers—as he’d referred to Dorothy and her mother. Good old Dukie Danby would rather not have his reputation soiled by owning up to his son’s mistake.
In Dorothy’s twenty-two years, she had hoped to never see an uppity British man again, but her wishes went unheard when Calvin Seton entered her inn. She’d never come across a man like him. Not only was he a very handsome man with fine manners, but his British accent had her knees buckling a time or two. Serving the miscreants of New York didn’t give her many chances to meet gentlemen, and now she wished she’d never struck up a conversation with Calvin Seton.
The headstrong, stubborn part of her wanted to tell him to leave her sight and never return, but the lonely woman buried deep inside wanted to outfit herself in a gown, do her hair fancy, and strut around the streets of New York on his arm. And to be sure, that man had an arm worthy for a woman to hang on. His whole body fit nicely in his clothes, and his shoulders…
Dorothy held in a dreamy sigh. It was a good thing the stubborn side of her would win this mental argument, and not let her daydreaming side take over. That man was just like Lord George. All he wanted from a working class woman was to toss up her skirts and have his wicked way with her.
Although most people didn’t know it, Dorothy was still a virgin. She would not give her heart—or body—to anyone but her future husband. Even though the man from England had placed wanton thoughts in her head, Dorothy was not going to repeat history! Her mother would be turning over in her grave if she knew she harbored such lustful ideas about Mr. Seton.
“Dorothy? Are you daydreaming again?”
The sound of her brother’s voice pulled her back to her surroundings. She offered a smile, forced as it was. “I’m not dreaming.”
Twenty-one-year old Jeremy nodded in the direction of the doors and arched his over-protective, brotherly eyebrow. “Who was the gent that just left?”
She shrugged and straightened the chair behind a table. “He says he’s from Surrey, England. His name is Mr. Calvin Seton, but he doesn’t mean a thing to me.”
Jeremy studied her warily, stepping closer to her. “He doesn’t, you say? Then pray, why has he made you so bothered?”
“Ha!” She stomped her foot. “I am not hot and bothered!”
Jeremy’s eyes widened before he threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, sister dear, I didn’t say you were hot and bothered. Just bothered.”
Not very often did Dorothy become embarrassed. So when heat climbed up her neck to her cheeks, she growled and turned away from him, marching into the kitchen. Looking for something to keep her mind occupied, she picked up a bottle of whiskey and hurried out to serve her customers. Grumbling, she marched to a table of men and refilled their drinks. Her brother’s laugh still rang through the busy room, upsetting her that much more.
Hot and bothered, my eye! Mr. Calvin Seton did nothing but infuriate her. The cocky man had the ballocks to play her game—and he played it well. She didn’t think she liked that, even if at times he made her heart pump faster. Huffing, she turned away from the table and moved to the next group of men.
When she saw Mr. Fancy Breeches tonight, she would certainly give him a piece of her mind. She supposed women in England did not speak their minds—even if they had them. So Seton would definitely not be prepared for Dorothy’s bold personality.
She stopped midway through pouring a drink as an idea struck her. Why hadn’t she thought of this before? She would scare the man
away. That’s what she’d do! He for certain didn’t cross paths with women like her, and the uppity son of an earl would not know how to react. He’d become all flustered and leave.
Grinning widely, she nodded. Yes, that is what she would do. He’d be sorry he even stepped foot in her inn.
“Dorothy, what has come over you?” Jeremy asked as he grasped her elbow and swung her around to face him.
It took her a second to think about what she was doing, besides plotting, that is. “I’m um—” she glanced at the bottle in her hand— “I’m serving drinks. What does it look like I’m doing?”
Jeremy folded his arms and frowned, concern dulled his eyes. “Have you realized you’re giving away our best bottle of whiskey? Your pouring it in everyone’s cups, and they haven’t paid for it,” he whispered.
Shock hit her like a bucket of cold water. She hitched a breath and glanced at the ones she’d just served. True to her brother’s word, her patrons had confusion written on their drunken faces—and that wasn’t easy to do in this part of town.
Groaning, she threaded her fingers through her unmanageable hair that started out this morning in a tight bun, but now barely hung together at her nape. “This is not good.”
Jeremy wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her away from the tables. “I think you’ve had enough today. Let me take over.”
She pushed his arm away and glared. “I can handle anything you put in front of me. Did you not see the way I dealt with Slater?”
He arched an eyebrow. “I thought Mr. Seton handled Mr. Slater.”
“Oh, posh! Mr. Seton was just in my way. I would have dealt with Slater with our without the British man’s help.”
“Nevertheless, something is eating at you and I want to know what it is.”
She opened her mouth to tell him about the stranger who disturbed her, but her mind halted her thoughts. She didn’t know for sure if her grandfather had sent Mr. Seton—she was just assuming. So until she knew what the gentleman wanted, how could she say anything to her brother? Besides, she shouldn’t worry him needlessly. He had enough problems as it was with his declining health.
A Summons From His Grace (Regency Christmas Summons Collection 4) Page 13