The Duke of Morewether’s Secret (22 page)

“Yes.” Christian clapped his hands. “You can sail me there. With your skill and fast boat, we’ll probably catch up to them first.”

“I can’t take you.” Thomas shook his head definitively. “No.”

“Of course you can. You have to.”

“It’s impossible for me to leave now; certainly not for several months at a time. No, I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“You have to,” Christian repeated.

Thomas only continued to shake his head, but said no more.

“I can’t believe it. After everything I’ve done for you, you refuse me this?”

His friend tilted his head to the side and gave him a quelling look. “To what, exactly, are you referring?”

“I … I … I let you marry my sister.” It was the only thing he could think of because the whole argument was absurd.

A giant snort burst from his friend. “All right, you ass, I’ll give you that one. Still, it’s hardly worth what you’re asking.”

“We’ve been best friends since school. You have to do this for me.” It was a genius plan, and Christian was prepared to beg if the shaming didn’t work.

“No. Just stop.” Thomas laughed. “There isn’t anything you can say that’s going to convince me to leave my family for so long.”

“It’s an adventure. Think of it like that. We haven’t had an adventure in ages.” Christian made an expansive gesture causing the dog to lift his eyebrows, although his interest wasn’t enough to lift his head from his master’s lap.

“I’m having plenty of adventure these days, and it’s only going to get more exciting. I can’t leave. We haven’t told anyone yet, but Francesca’s expecting. She’ll be fit to burst before we’d get back. There’s no way I’m leaving her.”

Christian flung himself in the chair back in the chair. “I understand. Of course I do. Family is the most important thing.”

“I’m sorry.” Thomas stroked the dog’s ear thoughtfully. “So what will you do? It’s not like there’s a boat leaving for the Ottoman Empire every day.”

Christian groaned. “There’s a merchant cargo ship. It’s a godforsaken, rusty tub of a thing, and the captain’s probably a pirate, but I think I can convince him with a mountain of sterling to leave in a little over a week. I’ll manage it somehow.”

“Everything will work out. I’m certain of it.”

“Says the man whose wife breeds devil dogs.”

The drooling monster in question lifted his sleepy head and woofed.

The ship was out far enough in the Atlantic that Thea no longer saw land. No green hills or giant bridges. Not even the dingy smoke which hung over London. She wouldn’t be missing the crowds or the traffic or the smells of town. She felt the draw of home, of Santorini. She almost felt the sand warm on her feet and the warm water of the ocean lapping against her legs.

So if she wanted to be home so badly, why in Zeus’s name was she standing on the deck of the ship with tears running down her cheeks?

Because you’re stupid.

She’d fallen in love with the worst possible man and convinced herself, against every instinct she possessed, that he was different. She was a hopeless fool. At least no one at home ever had to know what a horrible mistake she’d made.

She had weeks on board ship to get over him. She could cry and scream and sleep and cry some more and no one would ever know. By the time the ship landed, she’d be right as she ever was, prepared to take care of her family, and she’d never think about her husband again. Apparently, there was no getting out of it. Christian had set a pretty trap, and she’d danced right into it. Dervished actually.

Still, she couldn’t figure out what he got out of the union. Her mother had warned her that men of his ilk looked for the conquest. Was that what she had been? Even though the solicitor had educated her on the fact everything she owned was now technically Christian’s, it hadn’t seemed as if her were after her money. Maybe it was the antiquities she’d amassed. No, that didn’t feel right either.

It didn’t matter. She’d left him. An enormous bribe to the captain of the
Persephone
had convinced him to leave the London dock with no husband and no questions asked.

By the time she landed back on English soil with her brothers, she wouldn’t care anymore. Yes, she’d be his wife because she lacked a choice in the matter, but in name only.

The note he’d sent with the flowers fluttered in the breeze. She’d read it over and over until it was memorized and yet she still couldn’t let it blow over the rail.

She should let it go, send it flying over into the sea.

Maybe when she’d fallen out of love with him.

Chapter Twenty-One

Christian untangled his legs from the sheets and threw his arm across his eyes to keep out the sliver of light that inched up the length of his bed. His blasted head was killing him. Was it always so hot in his room? He extended his leg and thrust it out from under the covers, wiggling his toes and testing how he felt about getting up. No. Not yet.

The remainder of a dream still clung to the outside of his consciousness. He closed his eyes and willed himself to go back to sleep. Thea lived in his dreams. The smell of her perfume and the silky feel of her hair … If he lay there quietly enough he could slip back into her arms. Slow and steady breaths, that was the secret.

“Are you finally awake?”

Christian sat straight up in bed at the female voice. Looking wildly around, he spied Lucy sitting in a chair across the room. It was she who’d cracked the curtain. The chair had been angled to get the light, and the feet of the chair were surrounded by books.

“Bloody hell.” He gasped for breath. “What are you doing here?”

“Reading.” She indicated the book in her hand and said the word in a manner that suggested her father might be an idiot. Or still drunk. How was it all the females in his acquaintance had the ability to talk to a man as if he were an imbecile?

“What are you reading?”

“Christopher Marlowe. I tried some Francis Bacon earlier, but he does go on and on. I reread
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
first because it’s my favorite. Which is your favorite Shakespeare?”

“You read Francis Bacon?” Who was this child? He sat fully in the bed, his shirt and trousers hopelessly wrinkled from sleeping in them. He peered at the girl. She sat in the chair with her legs tucked underneath her, long blonde hair surrounded her face and clung to the upholstery behind her giving the illusion of a slightly manic fairy.

She shrugged and wrinkled her nose. “I tried his essays. I didn’t really understand what he was talking about. I like Marlowe though.”

“I have a child that reads Bacon?” He scrubbed his face with his hands and wondered if her intrusion into his private suite of rooms was a dream, or rather a nightmare. He pulled at the skin of his face and cast her a weary look over the tips of this fingers.

“I didn’t read the Bacon. I told you. It was complicated.”

“Um hum.” He swung his feet over the edge of the bed and scrunched his toes in the carpet. First the right foot, then the left, finally both together. There was a ritual to be observed the morning after a blind drunk.

“What is your favorite play?”

“I don’t know.” Talking was not a part of the ritual.

“I’m reading
Dido
. I quite like it.”

He stopped his feet and looked at the child whom he barely knew, actually didn’t know at all. “Dido? Queen of Carthage? Isn’t that a bit grim?”

“I do like the bloody ones,” she said with a bit too much enthusiasm. “
Macbeth. Titus Andronicus
.”

Christian shook his head. “If you say so.”

“I do. The comedies are my favorite, but George always did put on excellent fight scenes.”

He sighed and levered himself up. He grabbed the bedpost until the dizziness passed. “Who’s George?”

“The theater manager.”

“Um hum.” He needed to relieve himself, but there was a girl in the room. He was working out the logistics of the situation when it occurred to him there was a girl in the room. “What are you doing up here?”

Lucy’s eyebrows flew up. “Reading. See.” She showed him his own books from his own library.

“No. What are you doing in my room? It’s quite rude.”

Lucy’s face fell. “Oh.” She bit her lip and tears pooled in her eyes. “I’ll go.”

“No, please don’t cry. I’m sorry.” Honest to God, he couldn’t take one more female being disappointed in him. “Stay right there.” Ritual be damned. He moved to his dressing room and relieved himself and splashed water on his face. “Ring the bell,” he called to her.

His valet entered with a pot of coffee and an array of biscuits. At least one person respected the ritual.

“Send up some tea for Lucy.” He told the man as he accepted a cup filled to the brim with glorious black salvation.

“What is that?” she pointed to his cup.

“Coffee. From Turkey.” He singed his lip.

“I’ll have that.”

He eyed the girl over his cup. He sincerely doubted even a mother as outrageous as Veronica gave her child coffee. “I don’t think so.”

“I love coffee.” She seemed confident on the matter.

But then, what the hell did he know about what kind of mother Veronica was. He shrugged and handed her his cup. “Be careful; it’s hot.”

She took him at his word and blew on the liquid before putting her lips to the brim. One small sip and the girl’s attitude changed. The coffee was ejected most violently, spit spraying over the carpet.

Lucy stuck out her tongue, her face a mask of repulsion. “That’s awful.”

Christian laughed and his head almost popped off his neck. “Now do you want some tea?”

“Yes, please.”

“Have a biscuit. It’ll kill the taste.”

The valet handed over a headache powder then left to fetch the tea and probably someone to clean the carpet.

“These are yummy.” She was making her way through the chocolate biscuits rather handily.

He grabbed several before they were gone, then sat on the edge of his bed, munching and watching, trying to figure out this child. “Where is Miss Honeysett?”

Lucy shrugged and avoided his gaze.

“If you had to guess …”

She glanced up then her eyes darted away. “Perhaps the conservatory?”

He stood and refilled his coffee cup. “Don’t you think she’s wondering about you?”

“Probably.”

“I suspect.” Christian thought of the new governess who was likely frantic after having lost her charge in only a matter of hours.

“She’d never think to look for me here, though. Smart, yes?”

It was. As annoying as it was finding her here, he did have to admit it was inspired. “Hiding from her is a bit cruel, don’t you think?”

“You know what’s cruel? Her making me learn needlepoint. That’s what she wanted to do today. What’s the point of that?”

“That’s what she’s to do. Educate you with the knowledge you need to know.”

The look she shot him was overflowing with skepticism. “I need to know needlepoint? What for? That seems stupid, and I’m not a stupid girl.”

It seemed she definitely wasn’t a stupid girl. A surge of pride in his abilities to procreate left him feeling warm. “I’ve hired the governess to see to it you know what a lady needs to know.” Not an actress. His daughter would not live life so low. He made the decision on the spot. He hadn’t originally intended Miss Honeysett make an actual lady out of his girl, but now he desired it fervently “When you go to the country with Miss Honeysett she will see you begin your education in the womanly arts.”

“But I don’t want to go to the country.” She stuck out her lip again. “I want to go to school.”

“And you shall. My head hurts, and I don’t want an argument.”

He had his valet return his smart daughter to Miss Honeysett, who he understood was nearly apoplectic over her disappearance.

Over the course of the week after Thea ran away, Christian convinced the captain of the
Starlight Seeker,
a merchant ship, to accept him for passage to Athens. The ship did not normally allow for passengers, but when the duke was persuasive, he was very persuasive. The accommodations would be considerably less than what he was used to and far from what his wife enjoyed on the
Persephone
, but the boat was leaving sooner than the next ship that would sail. A trip over land was not to be considered. The amount of time it would take to travel cross county — well he might as well give up on his wife. Time was of the essence.

Once the passage had been agreed upon, Christian spent his time fretting. He avoided White’s or Tattersalls or any of the other places his acquaintances frequented. It seemed the entire society of all London was aware of his fleeing wife. Mercifully, most people didn’t know the cause of the estrangement, but that didn’t prevent speculation. Amazingly, none of the gossip even got close to the actual reason, but then again, Christian wasn’t exactly sure of the reason himself.

He assumed Veronica’s appearance on her wedding day was more than Thea had bargained for when marrying a former rogue.

For former was definitely what he was. Their motivations were unclear, but several of his mistresses had come calling after the news came out, offering their services yet again. He hadn’t considered the possibility for even an instant. Surely that earned him some points in the marriage battle, but there was no one around to award them to him.

He mentioned his thoughts to Anna, his mother, and his sister when they cornered him in his study.

“Surely you don’t expect your wife to give you credit for not entertaining other women?” Anna said the words with disbelief. His sister merely stared at him with knitted brows.

“Of course not.” But he did.

“Oh, Christian,” his mother intoned with a disappointed look.

Anna tossed her head and tsked at him, walking away with her arms crossed over her chest.

“I really adore Thea,” Francesca laid her hand on his arm.

His mother tilted her head to the side. “We all do.”

“As do I, obviously,” he told her. “Where are you going with this?”

Francesca sighed. “I don’t know. This is a sticky situation.”

Something he was obviously aware of. “I’m leaving in a matter of days to fetch her home. I’ll figure it out.” He tried to sound much more confident than he felt.