A Duke by December

by Sabrina Darby

“I need to work,” he said. “Mr. Ford did his best, but with the weather what it has been and the repercussions of having no authority… And the dukedom includes half a dozen other properties scattered about advised by far less capable hands than his.”

  “Nate.” His name, said in that plain, no-nonsense tone of hers, the one she used when she was about to inform him of something he had overlooked, did something to his nerves, something that made his skin all too aware of the cloth that touched it. This was getting ridiculous. This was Lizzie. About to chide him. Not some Cyprian. And speaking of Cyprians, perhaps a visit to London and the procurement of a mistress was exactly what he needed. In Boston, there had been that widow, and improper thoughts about Lizzie had never once crossed his mind. Apparently, two months of celibacy could ruin a man.

  “Did you not hear me?”

  He flushed. “I beg your pardon. What did you say?”

  “I said it would be best if you made an effort to attend tea and meet some of your neighbors. You might also wish to quell this idea of a Twelfth Night ball before it becomes village gossip and everyone expects it to happen.”

  He ran his hand through his hair. He almost protested that he had met several of his neighbors. But even though he had put Lizzie in charge of returning all the polite introductory missives, she was absolutely right. Just as she was every time she used that tone. What would it be like to hear her say his name in passion? Demanding that he touch her here and there and…

  “Nate?”

  He blinked. He needed her out of there before he had himself committed to Bedlam.

  “You have made your point, Lizzie. Now, I have work to be done. I will see you at dinner.”

  There was a poignant silence before she stood and left the room, clearly even more hurt by his brusque dismissal. It wasn’t her fault.

  Maybe everyone was right and it was time to hire a male secretary. What had worked in America clearly no longer would do. A duke was expected to…

  Not salivate over his secretary simply because she put on a more stylish dress.

  And what Lizzie had told him a year ago was absolutely true. She was not a child. Neither in body nor in mind. She certainly was not the brainless twit she had claimed to be. A year at his side had proven that. It was likely time for her to get married, just as it was time for him. Keeping her as his secretary would only hold her back. He could give her the opportunity to meet men deserving of her attention.

  He looked down at his desk, struggling to make sense of the paper that had seemed so important a mere quarter of an hour earlier.

  He could settle a dowry on her. Treat her as if she were in fact his ward.

  If only Caro were here, he could ask her to take Lizzie under her wing. As it was, Nate had very few family and friends in England. In fact, aside from a cousin on his mother’s side with whom he had never been close, there was no one.

  He had to figure his way through everything on his own. Just as he had for the past decade.

  He took a deep breath. Somehow that independence had never quite felt so much like loneliness.

  Chapter Five

  Lizzie cowardly had dinner brought to her room that night and curled up in a chair with a warm blanket over her to read one of the novels she had found in the well-stocked library. During the months in New York, she’d learned to ape the accents of Nate’s colleagues, to try and present herself as what they considered educated and polished. But she was in England now. There was a new set of standards by which others would measure her, and she wasn’t entirely certain yet what they were. Not least because of her strange position in the household.

  People looked at her oddly, as if they weren’t certain what to make of her or what purpose she truly served. Why an American woman should be put in charge of the domestic matters at the estate as if she were its mistress.

  It was a pleasure to have these few hours to herself for the first time since their arrival, to be able to acknowledge her hurt feelings and then tuck them aside under the palliative of a good book.

  But then John stopped by, curious about why she had missed dinner.

  “Because I’m tired,” she said simply. “I spent all day trying on clothes and having pins stuck in me, and I just wanted to be alone.”

  He nodded, though she was certain he didn’t fully understand. He was naturally more sociable than her, a trait which had finally began to blossom toward the end of their year in New York when he had made friends at his school. John never seemed to need those moments of solitude to reassess and make sense of everything that occurred during the day.

  “I wonder when my new clothes will arrive,” he said.

  “Soon, I’m certain.” Lizzie was curious to see his new wardrobe, as well. And Nate’s.

  “My new riding boots especially,” John continued. “Nate said I could ride with him before breakfast. There are so many horses in the stables, and Mr. Coyne said since I know how to keep my seat, I can ride most of them.”

  Lizzie smiled. “That’s nice.”

  “And if there is a Twelfth Night masquerade… do you think I’ll be allowed to go?”

  “I can’t imagine why not. You are nearly as tall as Nate, and you’ll be in costume. As long as you don’t flirt with all the heiresses they are trying to foist off on Nate…”

  John made a face and then slumped down onto the ottoman beside her.

  “You don’t seem yourself. Are you certain you haven’t taken sick?”

  Lizzie let out a deep breath. It was the two of them against the world. Had been ever since the fire, and yet as close as they’d been, Lizzie had tried to shield John from the bleak thoughts that often kept her up at night. Especially the worries that haunted her here at Beckworth.

  And after this day’s events… after Nate had seemed so offended by her appearance, she was even more in doubt about her position here.

  “Mr. Ford has been letting me learn from him after lunch,” John said abruptly.

  Lizzie looked at him sharply. “Don’t you have studies to attend to?”

  John shrugged. “I like Miss Vere, but she isn’t my real tutor. Nate’s promised to fetch me one as soon as possible. So I do my work, and I do like learning French, but… I’ll need a trade someday, Lizzie. I could be a land agent too. Especially if Mr. Ford and Nate vouch for me.”

  “John—

  A very knowing and old expression cast over John’s youthful features. It was different from the bitterness and anger that had filled him in Arkansas and throughout the first months after their escape, and yet its weight was similar. “You heard Mr. Tompkins. The duke needs to marry and have an heir. Everyone is saying so. Lady Maude and Mr. Beebumbler. Even Thomas keeps talking about it, and he’s a child.”

  “He’s twelve,” Lizzie said, thinking it not very much younger than John. And yet Thomas was significantly younger. He had been sheltered from the world. He would likely never experience anything as terrifying as what John had escaped. Would never know the prejudice and hatred, the potential loss of freedom that merely having a different color of skin could cause. And neither would Lizzie. She wanted to hug John, but she knew that at that moment he’d push off her embrace.

  “Someday, he’ll marry—probably soon—and we’ll need to fend for ourselves. Go back to New York or stay here. We can’t live off his largess forever. It was one thing when…”

  “When what, John?”

  “When I thought you might marry him,” he muttered.

  “What!”

  “I see how you look at him. All mushy-eyed, as if he could walk on water.”

  Lizzie sighed. Hopefully only John, who knew her so well, could identify that look. She was tempted to deny the accusation. At the same time, after the conversation with Nate that day that had made her emotions feel even more ridiculous, she was too exhausted to do so. She chose obfuscation instead. “I do admire him. As do you, John. How could we not? We owe our lives to him.”

  “It’s a bit more than admiration, I’d
say.”

  Her cheeks burned and she glanced down at the book in her hands.

  “Fine, so it is. What of it?”

  “Hah! At least you admit it at last.” He looked hopeful all of a sudden. “Lizzie, I know it’s far more difficult now. He’s a duke and everyone here expects him to marry an English lady, but couldn’t you… I don’t know… seduce him?”

  Lizzie stared at her brother. “Where on earth did you learn such a thing?”

  “Shakespeare?”

  She raised an eyebrow. She had only read a few of Shakespeare’s plays, and none of those had anything about seduction in them.

  His cheeks reddened. “Forget I said anything.”

  “He’s not interested in me in any romantic sense,” Lizzie said firmly with determination to take charge of this runaway conversation. “But you’re right. We need to prepare for the future.”

  • • •

  Lizzie struggled the next morning over whether to wear one of her old dresses, which she had previously intended to give away, or to put on one of her new frocks. Pride urged a new dress, and the argument that it was Nate’s own fault she now possessed this wardrobe. At the same time, she was here at Beckworth due to Nate’s generosity.

  And she couldn’t bear to be sent away again.

  Finally, she chose an older morning dress and, with trepidation causing all manner of quakes in her stomach, attended her usual conference with Nate.

  He glanced at her briefly as she entered, and then his gaze shifted to the window. She looked out at the view, the withered rose garden laid out in its careful lanes.

  “Would you like to accompany me about the estate today?” Nate asked. He said nothing about the dress, but there was a tentative note to his voice at which she wondered. Did he feel badly about snapping at her the day before? Was this invitation meant as an apology, or was it simply business?

  She took a deep breath. It was most likely the latter but attempting to understand some deeper meaning behind his words was a recipe for misery. “That sounds quite agreeable.”

  Of course, the suggestion required that she change into one of her new riding habits, a fact that amused her at the same time that it terrified her to face his reaction when they met again in the stables. But apparently he found nothing untoward about her appearance and all discussion was about their mounts and the weather.

  She felt very conspicuous on the docile mare that had been chosen for her. It had been quite a while since she had ridden a horse, but it felt natural and freeing, reminding her of the happiest days of her childhood, of learning to ride before her mother’s death.

  And despite Nate’s behavior the day before, it was wonderful to be out with him alone, the cold air whipping at her hair and cheeks.

  Exhilarating.

  They slowed as they neared the fields, and Nate pointed out which lands were directly overseen by Mr. Ford and which were leased to tenant farmers. It was winter, and in this climate, it was expected for the fields to be bare until spring, but Nate’s narration as they passed the land added a visual emphasis to the stories she had heard from the housekeeper, the cook, the governess, Mrs. Ford, and the vicar.

  “Do you think it will be this bad next year?” she asked after they’d left the tenant’s home. She’d known from all the talk in the main house that the harvest this year had been miserable, as bad or worse than that in New York, and yet seeing the effects, seeing the wary look in the farmers’ eyes as they told the new duke their plight, made it all that much more visceral.

  She thought of the poor Mr. Beebumbler had so casually mentioned. Their need was, without doubt, even greater. Not for the first time she wondered how she and John would have survived through the past freezing year if they had been able to stay on their farm. She was not confident they would have managed very well at all.

  “I truly hope not,” Nate said. “But Mr. Ford advises me that it will take several years to recover from the impact of this one.”

  “You trust his opinion.”

  Nate was silent, considering for a moment. “Yes, I do.”

  “I like his wife as well,” Lizzie said. “Have you considered giving them one of these unoccupied houses for their use? She’s expecting, you know.”

  • • •

  Nate swallowed hard.

  Apparently, it wasn’t simply Lizzie’s more revealing dress of the day before that had captured his attention. Even when she’d first appeared in his study, subdued in her old dress, he had been struck with a powerful visceral reaction to the sight of her. In her warm winter habit, with a cloak making her shapeless, she should have been safe from his imagination.

  Yet she wasn’t.

  Especially mentioning this new topic, one that so casually suggested sexual relations, even if that was not at all what she had intended.

  “She is?” he said thickly.

  Lizzie laughed. “Nate, I have never known you to be so oblivious. You really need to spend more time outside that office and pay attention to your household. Take her brother, for example. From what Mrs. Pemberley tells me, it was quite a scandal back in January when he and Mrs. Ford’s erstwhile fiancé came to visit.”

  “Clearly you have ascertained all the gossip.”

  “Mrs. Pemberley was quite eager to have someone new with whom to share all the drama, from Mr. Morehouse to Miss Vere and Mr. Coyne’s secret engagement. And my maid is very forthcoming. Can you believe I have a maid, Nate?” She shook her head.

  He could believe it. Every day, her hairstyles were fetching concoctions and not the plain, pulled-back braid or bun she had worn in New York. Not that she didn’t look lovely without such adornments but… He mentally shook his head. This would not do. He’d have to do something about his depraved thoughts.

  “I’ve been thinking of running up to London to see the solicitors,” he said quickly.

  “Oh?”

  He studied her expression, but her face was carefully blank.

  “You think I shouldn’t?” he guessed. Truthfully, there was little he needed to do in London that could not be done from Beckworth. Except for the mistress bit, which was the entire reason he’d concocted the trip.

  Her eyes widened. “Who am I to say?”

  He laughed. “The same girl who took me to task for ignoring my household.”

  “I think you are needed here to establish some sense of normalcy. It seems that this household has weathered some challenges and changes in the past year, and I particularly feel for Mrs. Ford…”

  “I will see to the matter of the house immediately. And that ex-fiancé… What do you think? Should I speak to Mr. Ford about pursuing legal action?”

  “I’m not certain they would wish to drag everyone’s names through the mud with such a scandal. She is happily married, despite the way it all happened.”

  “Seems the rascal should face his actions.”

  Lizzie laughed. “You would think that. You are the most honorable man I have ever met.”

  Nate scowled, her words mocking him. She knew nothing of the very dishonorable thoughts he had toward her, and her faith in his honor made him want to rip her clothes off and prove how very roguish he could be.

  Not that he ever would do such a thing.

  “I will postpone London by a few days, but the trip is no pleasure jaunt,” he said. “It is a matter of business.” And of sanity.

  “I am certain Miss Vere will be quite happy for you to find a tutor for John and to settle on a school for Thomas.”

  “Is there another position she wishes to take?” he asked with a frown. While he did intend to address the matter while in London, the observation seemed odd.

  “I believe she intends to take the position of wife. To Mr. Coyne.”

  He laughed. “This estate is full of surprises and intrigues.”

  “I think it is something of an open secret that they are in love and waiting only for Thomas to be settled.”

  Lizzie’s silver-gray eyes were bright, as if
she liked the romantic idea of love. As well she should. She was young and beautiful and likely looking forward to the day she would gain such a state herself. Something twisted inside him at the thought.

  Likely the lustful part of him that had decided he needed to possess her body, to study her skin with his tongue.

  He silently cursed the vivid thoughts in his head.

  “Speaking of marriage,” Nate began.

  Lizzie looked at him with a startled expression on her face. He felt uncomfortable enough broaching the topic, but he squared his shoulders and blundered on. After all, this couldn’t continue forever.

  “I wanted you to know that I intend to provide you with a dowry if you wish to marry. You are young and… I don’t wish to keep you closeted up at Beckworth attending to my business when you could be having a life of your own. A family of your own.”

  “That’s very generous of you.” Those expressive eyes were closed off in that mask she had developed. The barrier frustrated him. He didn’t like that she could hide from him in such a way.

  “I don’t wish you to feel trapped and obligated to stay here.”

  “I see. Well, if you do not quash the idea of the Twelfth Night ball, I’m certain there will be any number of unattached men in attendance. I shall do my best to prompt their suit.”

  “I don’t mean that.”

  She frowned, her lips tight.

  “Unless you wish to, of course.”

  She laughed, but the lack of true mirth made it clear to him he was indeed blundering. Talking with Lizzie had always been easy before. Why was everything so difficult of a sudden?

  Chapter Six

  Within the first hours in London, Nate’s plans went awry. He ran into a very old acquaintance, who had insisted on taking him to his club, and then everyone had wanted to meet the new duke. Despite it being the middle of December when, by rights, all these men should be at their family estates, he received a half dozen invitations. Older men had daughters to marry off, younger men had sisters or wanted the consequence of his friendship. Nate fobbed them all off with talk of that Twelfth Night ball he had only just decided to agree to. He wished he had his secretary at his side to jot down all the names, but he had always had an excellent memory.