It's Hard Out Here for a Duke Page 23

  So why couldn’t James have that love, too?

  Farther down the gallery was a painting of the duchess as a young woman; it was one of those portraits done to commemorate a betrothal or a marriage and the triumph of snaring a duke.

  It was strange seeing the duchess as a young woman. James had only ever thought of her as he knew her now: older, wiser, all knowing, and vaguely terrifying at times. In this painting, her hair was blonde instead of white, and her skin was dewy with youth. Her gaze was as shrewd as ever and there was no mistaking that it was her.

  There was something about her smile, though . . . something that made James stop in his tracks and take a second look. It was a sweet smile, but a knowing one at the same time.

  Something about the upturn of her lips and the slight tilt of her head seemed familiar, but James was having a hard time placing it. It was a smile he knew, but one he’d never seen on the duchess in real life.

  James stared at it for a long time before it finally dawned on him.

  No . . .

  It couldn’t be . . .

  That didn’t make sense . . .

  And yet . . .

  James turned and strode briskly from the portrait gallery. He would depart for London at first light because he had questions that couldn’t wait and questions that only the duchess could answer.

  Upon occasion, a duke may find it beneficial to seek advice from trusted and respected persons.

  —The Rules for Dukes

  Durham House, London

  James arrived back at Durham House in London late in the evening. The duchess had already retired, so James sought out his sisters for company. He knew exactly where they would be: in Claire’s bedroom for some quality family time, in which they could chatter away without being reminded of duty and etiquette and in which it would feel like home before everything changed.

  Claire, Bridget, and Amelia were all lounging on Claire’s bed and, as was his habit, James was sprawled in a chair pulled up beside them. His sisters were nattering on about some girlish stuff he wasn’t quite listening to, though he found their familiar voices and accents comforting and a welcome distraction.

  But then, the conversation took a turn.

  “Remind me again why Meredith left us?” Bridget wondered aloud.

  So much for the thoughts he was trying to avoid.

  “I miss her,” Claire said. “My maid Pippa is not nearly as good a chaperone. She actually pays attention unless I find some way to distract her. Meredith and I had an understanding.”

  “A good chaperone is so hard to find,” Bridget mused.

  “She didn’t leave,” James replied. Insisted, really. This was just a temporary absence, not a permanent one—or so he told himself. The alternative was too much to even contemplate. Although it had felt awfully permanent when they’d said goodbye. “She’s visiting her mother, who is ill. She’ll return.”

  “That’s the only reason she left?” Amelia asked. “The one and only reason?”

  “What other reason would there be?” James replied evenly, evasively. Discussing things of a romantic nature with one’s sisters was no man’s idea of a good time.

  He was treated to the sight of three Cavendish sisters rolling their eyes at once. Synchronized eye rolling. Only his sisters would excel at that.

  “Brothers.” Amelia sighed mightily.

  “So does anyone know when Meredith will come back?” Claire asked.

  “That question was addressed to the group at large,” James pointed out. “So why are you all looking at me?”

  “You can give a man a dukedom, but you can’t give him basic, common sense,” Bridget said.

  “Even Lord Fox isn’t this obtuse,” Claire said, referring to her suitor who was well liked but widely regarded to not be the sharpest knife in the drawer.

  “Even Darcy isn’t this stubborn,” Bridget said.

  “Even Alistair isn’t this evasive,” Amelia added.

  James never imagined the day that all his sisters would compare him to their suitors and that he’d come up wanting. But he’d had plenty of experience with their prying and needling. There was only one way to deal with it.

  “Why don’t you just tell me what you’d like me to say and I’ll say it?” James asked. He didn’t know what to say otherwise. He suspected that she wasn’t just visiting her mother but fleeing from him and his cowardice.

  Try as he might to rationalize it as duty or whatnot, James was starting to suspect he might just be scared—scared of the enormity of his feelings, scared of the duchess, scared of failing in this new role.

  “We want you to speak from the heart,” Bridget said.

  “Yes, confide in us all your deepest feelings,” Amelia added.

  “I must be becoming more English than I realized because I feel nauseated at the thought of discussing my feelings. With my sisters. Without copious amounts of whiskey.”

  “Shall I fetch us some?” Amelia offered mischievously.

  The other siblings simultaneously offered a swift and sure “NO.”

  “Why did she really leave, James?” Claire asked.

  That was the thing about sisters: they were relentless and unmoved by his diversionary tactics. They didn’t care if it was scary or painful for him to examine his feelings or to speak from the heart. And they were the only ones in the world who could make no bones about any of that, and insist that he toughen up and speak the truth. It was probably for his own good.

  He would go to his grave before he said a word of any of that aloud, though. Naturally.

  With three pairs of eyes staring at him expectantly, James knew he had to tell them something.

  “As you know, the duchess is keen for me to wed,” he began.

  “No!” Amelia said, feigning surprise.

  “You don’t say,” Bridget drawled.

  “I am shocked,” Claire said flatly. “Simply shocked.”

  He made a face at them and carried on.

  “I might have half a mind to marry Meredith, but the duchess favors someone more suitable. Or rather, anyone more suitable.”

  There was a long moment of silence. And frowning sister faces.

  “I see why she left,” Claire said, sticking her nose in the air.

  “Half a mind to marry her indeed,” Bridget added. “If that isn’t a nail in the coffin of romance I don’t know what is.”

  “Best she got out while she could,” Amelia, his baby sister, said sagely, nodding.

  “That’s not what I meant,” James protested.

  “Isn’t it?” Claire asked. “If you were wholeheartedly and whole-mindedly determined to wed her, would she really be gone right now?”

  That was a good question.

  A fair question.

  A question that it pained him to consider.

  “Her mother. She’s ill. She went to be with her.” He said this weakly, knowing it was a weak excuse, and he clung to it desperately.

  “Hasn’t her mother been ill for quite some time now?” Claire asked. “Before we even arrived, I think.”

  “You could have gone with her,” Bridget pointed out. “To provide comfort and company.”

  “Romance isn’t just flowers and waltzes, you know,” Amelia said. “It’s showing up for someone and standing up with someone in their hour of need. In all of the hours, in fact.”

  “That is awfully wise of you, Amelia,” Bridget said, sounding impressed.

  “Our little sister is growing up,” Claire said with a loving sigh.

  “Now if only our older brother would, too,” Amelia said. “Emphasis on old.”

  “This is some way to treat your beloved brother.”

  “Unless we’ve only half a mind to love you,” Bridget said pointedly. The others nodded and shrugged their agreement.

  After all he had done for them! After all he had sacrificed for them! After all the life choices he had made on their behalf or with their happiness in mind! After all that and they made cracks ab
out halfhearted loving!

  No. Just no.

  “It’s because of all of you, all right?” James said. “Because of my three beloved sisters, whose happiness I prize more than my own.”

  “Me?”

  “Moi?”

  “Us?”

  “I cannot risk a scandal while you are all unwed,” he explained, voice tight with frustration. “I cannot ruin your prospects with my own selfish desires.”

  There was a moment of silence in which it was apparent that this was only occurring to them now. Which was fine—as it should be. But any moment at least one of them should say, Thank you, dear beloved brother, for your noble sacrifice and for putting our happiness before your own.

  That was not what they said.

  “That is awfully sweet of you,” Bridget began politely. “But . . .”

  “Really thoughtful of you,” Amelia added. “But . . .”

  “But what makes you think we’d want to marry men who wouldn’t stand by us for better or worse, for scandal or not?” Claire asked, with a pointed arch of her brow.

  “Honestly, James, if we were content with such lily-livered, spineless beaux we would have married some of the fortune hunters and scoundrels the duchess has kept throwing in our way,” Bridget said.

  “But . . .” James didn’t know what to say.

  But the truth was so blindingly bright now. He didn’t want to make things harder for them. He wanted them to have choices.

  But most of all, he wanted them to find men who would proudly stand by them for better or for worse, and who valued true love over whatever the ton might say. They wouldn’t be truly happy with anything less anyway.

  “So don’t mind us,” Amelia said with a wave of her hand.

  “Don’t ruin happily ever after on our account,” Bridget added. “I could never live with myself.”

  “So back to the original question,” Claire cut in. “When is Meredith coming back?”

  This time, when three Cavendish sisters stared at him expectantly, he knew why. And he knew exactly what to say.

  “As soon as I can bring her back.”

  Chapter 19

  A duke has his priorities in order.

  —The Rules for Dukes

  The Queen’s Head tavern

  Southampton, England

  The sun was setting when James dismounted and threw the reins to a groom idling in the courtyard and strode up the wooden steps and into the tavern with much more certainty than he had the first time he’d been here. He pushed open the door, and a little of the late evening light spilled in behind him.

  A quick glance of the room—nearly full with travelers—told him that she wasn’t there.

  Even though he hoped she would be here, James knew it was unlikely. If he were to see Meredith here, now, it would mean that she was returning to London or leaving England entirely.

  Then again, her goodbye had felt so final.

  Hopefully, he’d find her soon, as early as tomorrow, even, at her mother’s cottage, which was another full day’s journey away. He’d learned her whereabouts from Claire, who had wheedled the information from the housekeeper.

  His sisters, bless them, conspired to help make his departure possible.

  Then again, James suspected that if he didn’t go himself, they would have fanned out en masse over the countryside until they found Meredith, pleaded his case, and persuaded her to return to London.

  It was better this way. There were some things a man had to do on his own.

  He had told the duchess there was urgent estate business requiring his attentions at Durham Park. Again. She seemed pleased that he was taking such an active role in the management of the estate, which made him feel a twinge of guilt for deceiving her.

  Amelia and Bridget, who had just a day ago each become betrothed to excellent gentlemen, promised to involve (and distract) the duchess with wedding planning.

  “Go,” Claire said. “Go running off for true love. Meredith deserves happiness and so do you.”

  He rode hard for a few days and stopped at the Queen’s Head Tavern for the night and for the memories. And so he was here, in the room where it all began.

  Meredith had not anticipated returning to London, and certainly not so soon. But she had questions for the duchess and now the carriage wheels couldn’t turn fast enough.

  Meredith tapped her toes on the floor of the mail coach and drummed her fingertips on the reticule in her lap. She’d spent what felt like an inordinate amount of time in the carriage already. If what she suspected about her past was true, it would certainly change her future.

  But first, a stop in Southampton.

  Particularly, the Queen’s Head Tavern. She had debated spending the night at a different inn—there were more than a few—but she wanted to return to the place where her life had changed.

  Meredith climbed the few steps to the entrance, pushed open the door, and stepped inside. It took a second for her eyes to adjust to the dim light, but when they did, there was no mistaking the sight that greeted her.

  There he was: leaning against the wall, a mug of ale dangling from his fingertips. Even though the room was full with other travelers, she found him straightaway.

  Meredith’s breath caught and her heart lurched.

  He was here. He was here!

  What did this mean?

  What did this mean?!

  Heart pounding, Meredith deliberately ignored him and took a seat in the far end of the bar and gave her order to the barmaid—a tea, please. She was a proper lady and as such, proper ladies did not make advances upon men in tavern common rooms.

  She glanced over, just to be sure that it was him and her eyes were not deceiving her. Then another fleeting look before looking away. All these quick glimpses when she wanted to gaze at him forever.

  He caught her eye every time.

  Her slight smile was the invitation he needed to come over.

  Meredith’s heart started to pound with every step he took across the room toward her, just as it had done that night. It was as if her heart knew that she wasn’t just a girl and he wasn’t Just James.

  Finally he stopped beside her and took to leaning against the bar. And then, he smiled. A wicked, beautiful smile that made her start to melt.

  “What is a beautiful woman like you doing alone in a place like this?”

  “That is such a ridiculous line. I’ve been meaning to tell you that since the first time you said it to me.”

  “But it works.”

  “Does it?”

  “It’s the third or fourth time I’ve said it to you, and you’re still talking to me, aren’t you?”

  James grinned at her, and his blue eyes were doing that thing where they sparkled with love and a hint of wickedness and a whole lot of wanting. The rogue had a point. Given the way he looked at her, he could say almost anything, and it would make her heart giddily overrule her brain.

  “I don’t suppose you’re here waiting for the first ship back to America,” she said, trying not to get her hopes up that he was here for her. Those were the only plausible reasons that would bring him to this place.

  “It so happens that I’m here for a girl.”

  His words hit her heart hard. Ba-bump.

  “Oh? What girl?”

  “Just a girl.”

  Ba-bump. Ba-bump.

  “I do hope you find her.”

  Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump.

  “I already have.”

  She knew, just knew, that he was here for her. Once again fate or something like it had brought them together. It took all of her elegance and self-restraint to keep from throwing herself into his arms and pressing her mouth to his. But proper ladies did not do such things, and she was a proper lady. She knew this now.

  But under her skirts, her toes were tap, tap, tapping out a quick rhythm, something like the rapid pace of her heartbeats.

  “So tell me,” he asked, leaning in. “What brings you to the finest inn and tave
rn in all of Southampton?”

  “I’m on my way to London,” Meredith answered. “I have some important business there.”

  “Words I’d hoped you’d say,” he murmured. Her lips turned up in a little smile. Her heart was beating hard, and she felt it in her chest and the blood rushing through her veins. She was alive. This was real. Fairy tale or not, this moment was happening. To her.

  “You know, I never did tell you my story,” he said. “I started to the night we first met but then I got . . . distracted.”

  “I suppose you’re going to tell me now,” she murmured.

  “Well, you wouldn’t want to live your whole life not knowing it, now would you?”

  “I suppose the answer to that is no,” she said softly. Teasing. “Tell me your story, Just James.”

  “I know I’m a strong, impressive, handsome, wealthy duke now,” he admitted, eyes sparkling. “But once upon a time, I was just a nobody, a horse trainer from America. And I was happy with my life there, and reluctant to start over here. But opportunities to be a duke don’t come along every day, so I traveled across an ocean for a role I wasn’t sure I could fulfill and a fate I wasn’t sure I wanted. The night I arrived in England, I met a girl at a tavern.”

  Meredith was silent, waiting for him to go on with this story. She knew the broad strokes and outlines of it, but there was something mesmerizing about hearing him tell it to her now, and putting herself into the context of his life.

  “I think I might have fallen in love with her that night,” he said. “She certainly cast a spell on me. Even though she broke my heart by running away without so much as a goodbye. Isn’t that the cruelest thing you’ve ever heard?”

  “Maybe she had her reasons.”

  “She didn’t even leave her name. I thought she was lost to me forever.”

  “But you found her.”

  “I had made a promise to myself, you see. I wasn’t going to be a duke until I set foot in London, until I placed my boot on the ground. I was just about to leave when I saw her. So if it weren’t for this girl, I would be back in America now, out in the country with my horses, the worst sort of coward who abandons family and duty.”