The Reluctant Duke (A Seabrook Family Saga) (4 page)

Thomas’s mouth
opened to interrupt his friend.

“Let me
finish.” Myles raised a cautionary hand and continued, “I only suggested you
would be wrapped around her little finger much like you are wrapped around
Amelia’s and Isabella’s.” The gleam in Myles’s eyes and the smirk on his face
contradicted everything he’d just said. Myles meant Thomas would be chasing
after her skirts––and not in a brotherly way.

“Well.” Thomas
glanced down at his shoulder and brushed off a piece of lint. “I have decided
Miss Hamilton would benefit from spending another year at Miss Beauregard’s,
and I will break the news to her tomorrow on our outing.”

His friend
shook his head and grinned. It brought to Thomas’s mind the nagging question of
why they were friends. Surely a gentleman’s true friend did not poke fun at
him.

***

The following
dawn brought bright skies and a cool breeze off the ocean. Emma fingered every
dress inside her wardrobe. Nothing would do as she was still wearing black. In
settlement of having nothing else suitable to wear today, she donned her black
muslin from yesterday. She pulled her hair back into a tight chignon with a few
wisps left out to soften her face.

To complement
her dress, she wore a dove-colored bonnet and tied the wide coordinating satin
ribbon beneath one ear in a perfectly formed bow. After donning her black
half-boots, silver gloves, and dove pelisse––lined with dark charcoal satin to
ward off the ocean breezes––she went to the receiving room to join her
chaperone, Miss Beauregard’s lady’s maid.

Emma, too
nervous to sit, paced around the room while waiting for her guardian to arrive.

Promptly at
ten, the duke arrived with Lord Norwich. After proper greetings, Emma took the
proffered arm of the duke, trying to ignore the warm, hard feel of it beneath
her gloved hand. Emma decided this strange attraction to him was merely because
she had spent so little time with members of the opposite sex. When she first
set eyes on Lord Norwich, she had thought him handsome. She still did. And she
was quite sure her hand would tingle if she were touching his arm as well.

His Grace
helped her inside the hired carriage, and she took the seat facing forward, her
chaperone across from her. His Grace sat opposite her and to the side while
Lord Norwich sat beside her, leaving a proper amount of room between them as
etiquette dictated. She held her breath as an uncomfortable silence settled
around them. Emma gripped her reticule on her lap. Finally Lord Norwich spoke,
and she could breathe in much-needed air.

“May I be so
bold as to say, Miss Hamilton, that I find Boston a fascinating city? I never
realized how rich and prosperous it had become. In England, much of what we
hear about America revolves around the Native Americans that roam these parts
and the wildness of the West. Now I believe the stories are to discourage
Englanders from traveling to this new world, seeing the truth and setting up
residence.”

“It is indeed a
wonderful city,” Emma agreed. “As for the Native Americans, many are our
friends. Unfortunately, some are misunderstood because their beliefs and
cultures differ from ours. The further you travel west the more of them you
will encounter. I often find it disturbing that they were here long before us,
and yet we have forced them from their lands.”

“Interesting
observation from someone so young and of the fairer sex—if you don’t mind me
being so bold as to say so.” The duke’s bland tone did not sit well in the pit
of her stomach. Why, he was treating Emma as one might treat an uneducated
street urchin, not an educated woman of the upper class.

“Why, pray
tell, would you think I would be offended by your bold words, Your Grace?” Emma
raised her head to look the duke in the eye. Yes, she knew it was not proper to
meet the eyes of a gentleman dead on, but if she were to be part of his family,
she certainly could not go around looking at her feet all the time. “I may be
of the fairer sex, as you have so politely pointed out, but I am not blind to
the happenings and situations surrounding me. We receive the
Boston Weekly
Messenger
at Miss Beauregard’s, and I find myself interested in more than
the society pages––if I may be so bold.”

Lord Norwich
burst out laughing beside her. It was a nice sound, deep and genuine. “
Touché,
Miss Hamilton.” He touched the brim of his hat. “A lady with a mind of her own,
and one not afraid to share it with others. I believe you will be like a breath
of fresh air when you arrive in our stuffy, antiquated London drawing rooms.”

“Myles, please,
don’t encourage the girl.” His Grace scowled. “Miss Hamilton needs to hold her
tongue when in polity society and in the company of others of superior standing
to herself. How in God’s name am I supposed to find a suitable husband for her
if she is outspoken?”

Emma’s heart
pained her at the duke’s reprimand, even if he aimed the remark at Lord Norwich
and not at her. She knew well enough that he meant it as a warning to her as
well. “I am sorry for speaking my mind about current affairs and other such
matters unsuitable for the delicate nature of ladies. I believe Londoners would
call me a bluestocking. But if it embarrasses you, Your Grace, I will try to
keep such thoughts out of my inferior female head and prattle on about nothing
but the current weather conditions and what dressmaker to visit.”

Emma could not
keep herself from smiling at Lord Norwich before turning to the duke with a
blank look. She bowed her head. “Please accept my apology. I will not embarrass
you again with inappropriate subject matter in conversation. And I certainly
would not want to burden you with worry about my behavior while out in public.
God forbid you should not find me a suitable husband and be stuck with an
unwanted spinster in your household until my demise.”

***

Thomas cleared
his throat and fought not to squirm in his seat while he ignored Myles’s
chuckling. If he was not mistaken, she’d actually taken him to task for what he
said, not the other way around. He would certainly have to keep a close watch
on her when they did arrive in London. Maybe Thomas should accept Myles’s
proposal and be done with it. He could get the girl off his hands this very
day.

At the thought
of that, Thomas’s right hand rubbed the sudden twinge in his chest before a
tightness appeared in his throat. For some reason, he admitted to himself, he
did not really want Emma off his hands, at least not yet. Certainly not before
he got to know her and she met his family. And there was a lot of business and
a whole ocean to cross before that happened. The pain in his chest lessened.

Thomas looked
across the seat at Miss Hamilton and forced himself to smile to ease her
unsettled feelings. Her complexion had paled, and her eyes sparkled with unshed
tears. He would contemplate how those made him feel later, when he could
breathe easily again, without being affected by her company.

“Tomorrow Lord
Norwich and I leave for New Bedford to settle your father’s affairs,” he
announced. “I expect this could take many months, so when you turn
ten-and-eight I shall return and escort you to London. Once there, you will
have your season with my sisters and all the other eligible ladies of the
ton,
and a marriage will be arranged by me for your benefit.”

“Pardon me,
Your Grace. May I speak plainly?” Miss Hamilton asked this in a voice barely
above a whisper.

“By all means.
You are among family.”

Her eyes fell
on Myles. “Family, but Lord Norwich?”

“If my mother,
the Dowager Duchess of Wentworth, along with my brother and sisters and I,
consider Lord Norwich family, you might as well consider him family, too. Myles
does practically reside at Wentworth House.” Thomas paused, eyeing her
attentively. “However, please be aware that in public he is most certainly not
a member of my family. The rules of social etiquette and propriety must be
adhered to in that instance.”

Emma bowed her head. “Yes, Your Grace. I will try to
remember all you have told me. However, what of my own thoughts and feelings
toward the much celebrated institution of marriage? Do they mean anything to
you?”

 
Surely
Miss
Hamilton could not be serious.
The much celebrated institution of marriage?
He knew what ladies felt about that. And Thomas knew what she would say about
her list of qualifications and—above and beyond all—love would probably be on
the top of her list. What love had to do with marriage he did not know and did
not care. People of his status married to merge two prominent families, to
acquire titles, wealth, and the much-anticipated heir. If mutual respect and
friendship coexisted between husband and wife, their life together and any
children born from the marriage would benefit greatly.

“Please
enlighten me, Miss Hamilton,” Thomas suggested, “on your feelings about
matrimony.”

A becoming
blush spread across her cheeks. Thomas scolded himself for even noticing such a
thing. He didn’t think he ever noticed when Amelia or Isabella blushed. Miss
Hamilton was now one of his sisters, nothing more, and he must respond
accordingly.

“Don’t be shy
now,” he prompted, anticipating her answer.

“I believe I explained
this to you in my letter. I wish to live here, in America, by myself. I do not
wish to marry. I wish to become a novelist, much like England’s Jane Austen.
Did she not make her living from her pen?”

Words would not
come forth from his mouth. The only other time Thomas remembered a female
rendering him speechless was when his sister Isabella expressed interest in
living in a brothel so she could wear frilly clothes and go out without a
chaperone anytime she wanted. And, of course, being a courtesan appealed to her
because she could court any handsome gentleman she wished. Being able to choose
the one she wanted for herself probably had a lot to do with her wish as well.

But Isabella
had been ten-and-three at the time. Now, at the mature age of ten-and-eight,
and with some knowledge of what transpired inside brothels, Isabella blushed
profusely and threw things at him when he reminded her of her wish.

Finally Thomas
organized thoughts in his head and allowed them to exit his mouth. “Your
situation is much different from what Miss Austen’s was at your age. You have a
large dowry and a trust fund. You come from a wealthy family and now a noble
one. You have no need to tax yourself writing novels.”

Thomas watched
her intently as she turned her reticule over in her lap, digesting that
information. One foot tapped in a nervous rhythm on the wood floor of the
carriage. Her chest rose and fell with her deep breathing, obviously to
maintain a level of control. Several times she opened her mouth to speak only to
close it again.

He did not know
Miss Hamilton well, but something told him she was angry beyond mere words and
was struggling to maintain her composure. He thought to compare her to others
her age in the
ton
.

Most girls her
age—not all—were silly, empty-headed debutantes whose only purpose was to make
a good impression when introduced to society and to marry well. Miss Hamilton,
on the other hand, seemed not at all interested in making a good impression.
For some reason, though it irritated him on one level, he found conversing with
her to be refreshing.

 “Please speak
you mind. As I told you before,” he said, waving his arm around the inside of
the coach, “you are family.”

Thomas politely
ignored the ungentlemanly snort from Myles.

“If it is
acceptable to you, Your Grace, I will take your opinion and think it over.”

That was it.
She had nothing else to say? Oh, well, it was probably for the best. Thomas
could not encourage her to write novels or take seriously her declaration never
to marry. It was just as well the matter was settled now.

“I would like
to bring up another subject which has me curious,” Thomas began. “Why have two
burly men been following us in a phaeton?”

Emma visibly
winced, and all color escaped her face. “Papa hired Jerome and Sully to guard
me whenever I leave Miss Beauregard’s.”

“Why?”

“To keep me
safe,” she replied.

Thomas stole a
look at Myles and then turned back to Miss Hamilton, his brows raised. “Why, I
ask again?”

Miss Hamilton
clearly did not like this topic. She refused to look at him. Her head bowed,
she watched her hands intertwine with each other on her lap.

When she
finally answered his query he had to lean forward to make out what she
whispered. “Papa was afraid I would be taken for ransom again. I was kidnapped
down by the docks when I was seven. It took three days before Papa found me and
had the men responsible arrested. He was always afraid I would be taken again,
so he hired Jerome and Sully to protect me.”

Thomas sat
back, closed his eyes, and tried to relax his tense body. It was not unknown in
this day and age that criminals kidnapped children of wealthy parents in
England for ransom. Apparently it happened in America as well.

Dear God. His
heart sped up. What must she have endured?

CHAPTER
FIVE

Nine long months
spent in America, and Thomas still struggled with indecision. Was it best to
sell off Hamilton’s whole fleet of whaling ships and all properties Hamilton
had held? Or should he keep Mr. Walsh on as manager of the business related to
the whaling industry and keep the holdings? Regardless of his decision, he
planned on keeping one of the homes. He considered one a gem––a sea captain’s
hip-roofed colonial, complete with widow’s walk. It was by far his favorite.
That house sat high on a bluff where the views were spectacular and rivaled
some from his country estate in England.

The furnishings
were not to his taste. But quite nautical in theme, they suited the property
perfectly. This was where Thomas spent most of his free time in America––not
that he had much. What he was learning about the whale oil industry fascinated
him. He spent any free time he had studying books and charts and grilling the
ship captains when they came into port.

On any given
day, there were upwards of three of his twenty-six vessels in port. Some ships
were away from port, whaling, for only one or two years, if they successfully
harpooned the whales and processed the oil. Many set sail and didn’t return for
a much longer time, up to three or four years. These vessels harpooned the whales,
harvested the oil, and delivered it to far-off regions before returning to
their home port.

Thomas had
learned a great deal about the different whales and the quality of oils that
could be rendered from them. Never before had he been interested in where the
oil for some of his lamps came from. His only concern had been that his supply
never ran out. Now, however, the thought of oil and whaling excited him. Yes, a
part of him thoroughly enjoyed his new occupation as business owner.

Being a duke,
he was a man of leisure in England, as was expected of a peer of the
realm––except when Parliament was in session. He had many holdings in England,
and his tenant farmers worked his lands, overseen by managers. This experience
in America was totally different.

Each day Thomas
woke up anxious to reach the docks and his offices. Never in his life had his
body hummed with such excitement or contentment as it did in New Bedford.

Some days
Thomas wished he were not a duke of the realm and that he didn’t have to return
to England at all. The excitement of this new land pumped up his blood. He
wanted to keep Mr. Hamilton’s businesses alive…and was unsure the Prince Regent
would allow him to do that himself. British dukes did not own businesses and
certainly not American businesses. And if they did, they’d be expected to hire
people to run them.

Myles had left
the New Bedford area after a month. Bored, or so he announced. Thomas knew
otherwise. Myles, The Adventurer, headed south by stagecoach, planning to
travel down the Mississippi by steamboat until he reached New Orleans.
Eventually he’d head west. Myles had politely told Thomas he would not travel
back to England until he encountered some Native Americans and possibly found
himself a bride. So much for his offer to marry Miss Hamilton.

Ah, Miss
Hamilton, Thomas mused.

In one-month’s
time his ward would turn ten-and-eight. He needed to return home before the
London Season was well underway because Amelia, Isabella, and Miss Hamilton
needed to be presented to society.

Preparations
were underway for the upcoming season already. Thomas had acquired Miss
Hamilton’s measurements from Miss Beauregard. Measurements that had his mind
traveling back to the first time he helped her into his hired carriage. The
memory of her small waist, which he knew his hands could encircle easily, and
her bosom, not too large, not too small, just perfect for his hands. And
beneath her gown he envisioned long, lean legs that could wrap around his
waist. . . Thomas shook his head to get such visions out of his head. She was
his ward, nothing more, nothing less.

After sending
Miss Hamilton’s measurements to England, he engaged the help of his mama and
sisters to pick out a suitable wardrobe for her in England. He also sent
several items he found in Mr. Hamilton’s sea captain’s house. Things he
believed Emma would be thrilled to have.

He couldn’t
help but smile and look forward to Miss Hamilton’s reaction upon seeing such
finery and mementos waiting for her. She had fine clothing here in America, but
what she had would not be suitable for her introduction into the
ton
.
And as far as Thomas could tell from records he’d requested, the coin he set up
in her name with Miss Beauregard for clothing and such things had remained
untouched except for purchases at a bookstore and a stationery supply shop. A
recent large withdrawal from her account, with no explanation, puzzled him.

He’d have Giles
make inquiries and book their passage. Thomas knew Giles hated this savage
world and pined for England and the status he had there as manservant to a
duke.