“He has been rather stroppy since our arrival yesterday, hasn’t he?” Addison agreed with a smile. “And there’s really no earthly reason for such irritation. I didn’t think asking him to prepare us for bed last night was anything out of the ordinary for a slave. Why, you’d have thought I was asking for the world when I ordered him to fluff my pillow.”
“And what of him shaving us this morning?” Kenneth reminded his friends. “I must admit I was a bit on the nervous side when he came at me with that gleam in his eyes and that razor in his hands.”
“He nicked my chin,” David said. “And you know, although he denied it, I believe he did it on purpose.”
“He refused to butter my toast this morning,” Winston added, swatting at a branch with his riding crop. “I was forced to remind him about a certain trip to Paris before I could induce him to obey my instructions. And then he smashed a great blob of butter on my bread, but refused to spread it. I asked him what I was supposed to do with such an ill-prepared piece of toast. His answer does not bear repeating.”
Addison grinned. “Yes, I believe it is safe to say that the Duke of Ravenhurst is being well and truly ruffled. And his resentment will more than likely rise with each day we are here. Why, even now, he’s probably sulking in some hiding place and—”
“What was that noise?” Kenneth asked abruptly, sitting straighter in the saddle as he listened. “Do you hear it?”
“It sounds like someone talking,” David said.
Addison listened intently. “That’s Saber’s voice.”
“Who do you suppose he’s speaking to out here in the middle of the woods?” David asked.
“I think a bit of spying is in order,” Kenneth said, smiling.
Winston nodded. “But let’s go afoot so our presence won’t be noticed.”
The men dismounted and secured their horses. Tiptoeing through the woods, they soon came upon a pond and hid behind the scraggly hedgerow surrounding it.
“There he is,” Addison whispered. “My God, look how dirty and wet he is!”
“Who’s that girl?” David asked, parting the branches of the shrubbery so he could see better. “My, but she’s a dainty bit, isn’t she?”
“Be quiet,” Addison ordered. “Let’s listen.”
“His shirtsleeve is torn,” Kenneth commented. “It appears as though he’s been fighting.”
“Shhh!” Addison begged for silence.
“Good heavens, she’s kissing him!” Winston exclaimed.
“What’s that about bashing people over the heads with canes?” David asked.
“Quiet!” Addison whispered loudly.
“She wants him to be Duke Marion,” Kenneth mused quietly. “Duke Marion. Good God. Only an American would use such a term.”
Impatiently, Addison glared at his friends, waving his hand to quiet them. Turning back to the pond, he continued to listen. Soon, rich, deep laughter hit his ears, a sound so foreign, he almost didn’t recognize it for what it was. He was astonished. It was a moment before he could speak. “Saber,” he whispered. “Good heavens, our Saber is laughing!”
“He is at that,” Kenneth concurred. “And if I wasn’t hearing it with my own ears, I’d never—”
“I wonder who that girl is?” Addison asked softly, more to himself than his friends. Whoever she was, he mused, Saber was enjoying her company. Addison decided then and there she couldn’t be allowed to get away.
Winston wiped tears of merriment from his eyes. “Can you believe it?” he whispered. “The little chit wants Saber to impersonate himself!” Kenneth chuckled. “And she offered to pay him!” David held his belly, silent laughter shaking him. “Imagine putting the Duke of Ravenhurst—one of England’s wealthiest men—on salary!”
Winston peered through the bushes again. “I wonder what the little American would do if she learned she’d just offered duke lessons to the one and only...uh, Duke Marion? Shall we tell her?”
“Wait,” Addison whispered when his friends prepared to emerge from behind the hedgerow. He stared at Saber and the girl again, his mind spinning with a newborn scheme. “Boys, when we show ourselves, let me do all the talking. However strange it is, agree with everything I say.”
“What are you going to do?” Winston asked.
Addison only grinned in answer. The men shrugged and followed him into the clearing. “What have we here?” Addison cried. Goldie scrambled to her feet, reaching for her claymore. Addison smiled at her. “You’ve no need to fear me. I only came to see what happened to...to my cousin. Saber, what are you doing here with this girl?”
Goldie looked down at Saber, who was pulling on his boots. “Your name’s Saber? What the hell kind of name is that?”
Swiping sand from his wet breeches, Saber rose. He frowned at Addison. “My real name is—”
Addison thought fast. “He’s Saber West,” he blurted, borrowing the “West” from Saber’s second name, ‘Westbrook.’”
“I’m Addison Gage, and Saber is my fourth and misfortunate cousin. He and I—Uh...Although he and I are of the same age, I don’t believe it would be erroneous to say I’m something of a guardian to him. You see, it recently came to my attention that he was in dire straits. When I met Saber I believed it my duty to assist him financially and otherwise. As his blood-cousin I could do no less.”
Saber rolled his eyes. “Addison, that’s ridic—”
“And these men are Winston Alders, Kenneth Lynnly, and David Clarkston,” Addison broke in smoothly, pointing to the three men standing beside him.
Goldie nodded and smiled at each of them. “Does one of you own this estate? Y’see, we got a rabbit, and even though Saber says it’s all right, I still want to say I’m sorry. I don’t want anybody to get mad at me.”
Saber laid his hand on her shoulder, deciding the charade had gone on long enough. “Goldie, I—”
Winston coughed loudly. “Another friend of ours owns Leighwood.”
“Winston,” Saber said, a note of warning in his voice.
“Quite right,” David agreed with Winston. “But he’s a dreadfully boring man.”
“Positively the dullest man in all of England,” Addison added, removing his gloves and slapping his palm with them. “He rarely ventures out of London. With his permission we are enjoying his estate for as long as it pleases us to stay.”
Goldie stared at him. His mannerisms were kind of fancy to her way of thinking. “Are you some sort of dukish man?” she asked anxiously.
“No,” Addison hurried to say. “I am only a mister.” He realized he couldn’t tell her he and his friends were earls. If she knew, she’d have a more correct idea of aristocratic behavior. And her plans for Saber were much more amusing. “Mr. Addison Gage, at your service.”
Groaning, Saber glanced at the treetops. “Goldie, allow me to introduce myself properly. I’m—”
“He’s Saber West,” Addison said again, glaring hard at his old friend. “Saber, have you given any more thought to that trip to Paris? The last time I spoke to you about it, you were unwilling to go. Have you changed your mind?”
Remembering that his defiance would send him to France with the aunties and their friends, Saber returned Addison’s glare. “No, I have not,” he snapped. He suddenly understood that Addison was adamant that he not reveal his true identity. Why, Saber didn’t know. But he had the uneasy feeling Addison was hatching some obnoxious scheme. And since he had no idea what that scheme entailed, he couldn’t very well thwart it. He became silent and wary.
“While the boys and I neared this pond,” Addison addressed Goldie, “we couldn’t help but overhear you talking about your problem. You say our Saber resembles Lord Tremayne?”
“Spittin’ image,” Goldie replied. “At least I’m almost sure he is. You ever seen the real Duke Marion?”
Addison closed his eyes as if in deep thought. “You know, I believe I have. It was many years ago. And if my memory serves me correctly, Saber here does indeed resem
ble him. The real duke, though, is much more handsome.”
Saber exhaled angrily. “Addison, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but—”
“It doesn’t matter that the real Duke Marion’s better-lookin’ than you, Saber,” Goldie cooed. “Folks in Hallensham won’t know that, and it’ll be our secret.” She looked up at him. Was it possible the real duke was more handsome than Saber West? She found that hard to believe.
Saber saw the sympathy in her eyes and watched her gaze touch his every feature. He felt caressed, like she was really touching him. It was a moment before the feeling passed. “Goldie,” he said softly, “I don’t recall agreeing to accept your proposal.”
At the downcast expression on Goldie’s face, Addison took her hand. “Saber, you are without a doubt the most coldhearted man walking this earth. How could you let this sweet girl down? She’s obviously in dire need of your help. Her Uncle Asa is in a spot of trouble, she’s trying to get him out of it, and you refuse to cooperate with what could possibly be the answer to her prayers. Have you no shame? Have you no compassion? Have you some desire to see Paris?”
“With a group of fascinating women?” Kenneth added.
“Alone with them,” Winston reminded him.
“At their mercy,” David speculated.
“Well?” Addison asked. “Will you be Lord Tremayne, or won’t you? It wouldn’t hurt you to learn what Goldie is proposing to teach you, you know. I realize you’re ignorant of the social graces because of the lowly, wretched existence you led before I so graciously offered to assist you, cousin. But now you have a splendid opportunity to acquire knowledge of them. Do you not wish to better yourself? Have you no dream of becoming a...a dukish man? You may most certainly borrow my cane. After all, you never know when some commoner might dare to insult you.”
Saber saw his friends were all on the verge of hysterical laughter. It pleased them enormously to see him so thoroughly caught in such an absurd state of affairs. He looked at the ground and rubbed the back of his neck.
God, how he would relish getting back at them for this.
The thought made him snap up his head. They obviously believed that practicing to be Goldie’s duke would aggravate him to no end. That it would be the worst predicament they’d ever gotten him into, and that it would be a hilarious thing to watch.
So why not turn the tables on them? Not only would he agree to be Goldie’s duke, he would give the impression that he was having the time of his life doing it! While Addison and the boys waited for him to become maddened, he would love every minute of it. At least he would pretend he did.
It would only be for thirteen days anyway, he reminded himself. And if he acted the part of Goldie’s duke, he would be spending all his time with her and have none left for playing servant to Addison and his three cohorts. Then the time at Leighwood would be over, and he could return to London.
“Saber?” Goldie prompted. “I really need to know your answer. I don’t have much time, y’see. I’ll swannee, there’s no tellin’ what sorta trouble Uncle Asa’s gonna get into while I’m gone, so I gotta get back to Hallensham as soon as I have my Duke Marion.”
He looked down at her. She was staring up at him, a mixture of anxiety and hope pouring from her golden eyes. He felt a pang of guilt. Her plans were ludicrous to him and the boys, but they were very important to her.
He remembered she’d traveled for days to find her Duke Marion. Her Uncle Asa was a drunk. Her horse was a thousand years old. A dwarf and an ugly gray mongrel were her only companions. By the looks of her dress, she was destitute. She’d never had a home. Now that she had finally found one in Hallensham, she was willing to do anything to be able to stay.
“Saber?” she pressed.
“Well...” he began lamely, his guilt worsening when he saw the desperation in her amber eyes again.
It wouldn’t be right to humor her and then cast her away when the game was over, he realized. But if he saw her plans for him all the way to the end, he’d have to go to Hallensham, which was situated on Ravenhurst—and nothing, no one, would get him back to that godforsaken place.
Perhaps he could write a letter to the villagers of Hallensham, he mused. She could take it back with her as proof that she’d spoken to him. He could even give her some little trinket with the Tremayne coat of arms engraved upon it. She could show it to everyone there. And he could give her enough money to be able to finance a festival in the village. It would be a sign of his goodwill.
Yes, all that would work nicely, he decided. She’d achieve her goal, he’d achieve his, and everyone would be content.
“So what’s your decision to be?” Addison asked, noticing Saber’s deep contemplation.
Saber took Goldie’s hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. “I believe that’s roast rabbit I smell,” he said to her. “Shall we go see how long it will be before it’s ready to eat? And I do solemnly swear to sniff each bite before I put it into my mouth. You can explain more...uh, dukish stuff to me while we dine.” Smiling, he led her in the direction Big had taken.
“Never in my wildest dreams would I have guessed he’d accept his situation with such good grace,” Winston murmured.
“He was quite willing, wasn’t he?” Kenneth remarked.
“Eager, I think, is a better word,” David amended. “What do you think, Addison?”
Addison continued to watch Goldie and Saber until they disappeared. The forgotten melody of Saber’s laughter came to him again. He grinned. “Do any of you believe in miracles?”
* * *
Dusk was beginning to fall when Saber urged his ebony stallion into the barn, Goldie and Big right behind him on Dammit and Smiley Jones. He dismounted and waited for the stable hands to see to the mounts. “Vincent?” he called when no one appeared. “Alvin?” Impatient, he demanded their presence again, this time more loudly.
“What are you carryin’ on about, Saber?” Goldie asked, jumping off Dammit.
“The stable lads,” he said, peering into the dim stalls. “They’re supposed to attend to our mounts. I can’t imagine where they’ve gotten off to.”
“Well, who needs ’em?” Goldie asked. Deftly, she removed Dammit’s tack. “Don’t you know how to take care of your own horse?”
Saber stared at her incredulously before he remembered he’d temporarily given up his title and therefore his right to servants also. “Of course I can see to Yardley.”
Goldie giggled. “Yardley? Saber, why’d you give that brute of a horse such a sissy name? Somethin’ like Big Butch would fit him better. Or Giant Jack. Or Mammoth Max.”
“Or Colossal Clyde,” Big added.
Saber frowned at them, then looked at his horse. “I don’t think Yardley is sissy at all. It’s a fine name.”
Goldie smiled and took hold of Dammit’s forelock. She led him into an empty stall, Smiley Jones clip-clopping along behind. Itchie Bon came loping in too, happily settling himself in a soft bed of hay. “And what do you think about the name Marion for a man? Think that’s a fine name too?”
Saber’s eyes narrowed. “I most certainly do. A fine name indeed.”
Goldie shook her head. “Yeah? Well, I don’t. It’s like Yardley. Too sissy. And you know, Saber, that gives us somethin’ to think on. I figure this Duke Marion might be sorta girlish, y’know what I mean?”
Saber sucked in a breath of astonishment. “Are you implying that the duke likes...Goldie—I am sure the duke prefers women to men.”
Goldie giggled again. “All I meant was that his mannerisms are probably...delicate. I know Duke Marion likes women. I know it because I found out he was gonna marry Angelica Sheridan. He loved her with his whole body and soul. She died though.”
Saber felt sorrow come crashing down upon him. He gripped Yardley’s reins as if he could crush the leather to powder.
“That’s a sad, sad story, Saber,” Goldie continued. “If I think on it too hard, it makes me cry.”
When he he
ard the quiver in her voice, Saber looked at her from over Yardley’s back. Her head was bent; she was staring at the straw on the floor of the stall. Was she crying? If so, why? The tragedy hadn’t happened to her.
“Yeah, a sad story,” she said again. “I’ll tell it to you sometime.”
“I already know it,” he whispered too quietly for anyone to hear. He took a moment to get hold of his raw emotions, then quickly finished with Yardley before walking out of the barn. When Goldie and Big didn’t follow him, he turned and saw them climbing into the hayloft. “What are you doing?”
Goldie looked down at him. “Beddin’ down.”
“In the hayloft?”
From his position on the ladder, Big stared at Saber. He still didn’t trust the man. “Is it any of your damn business where we sleep?”
“Actually it is my business,” Saber answered. “Leighwood is at our disposal, there are twelve bedrooms in it, and I assumed you and Goldie would be sleeping in two of them. However, if you prefer hay and dirt to downy feather mattresses, fluffy pillows, and clean silk sheets, by all means indulge yourself. Goldie, where would you like to stay?”
“Y’mean we’re invited to stay in the house?”
The astonishment in her gold eyes and the long pieces of straw sticking out of her wild, wheat-colored ringlets made Saber smile. “You are, but I’m not sure about him,” he said, inclining his head toward Big.
Big scrambled down the ladder and stormed to where Saber stood. “You just want to get her alone, you—”
“I’ve heard quite enough out of you,” Saber declared hotly.
“Oh, you have, have you?” Big blustered. “Just who the hell do you think you are? The King of England?”
Saber raised his chin, “The last I heard, we had no king.”
The man’s imperious manner infuriated Big. “Well, seeing as how you gave your horse such a sissy name, perhaps you think you’re the Queen of England!”
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