Must Love Dukes (24 page)

Devon reined in Poseidon outside a warehouse overlooking the London docks. He paused before dismounting to eye the gray stone building. Solomon had to be here. He was always here. The soot built up on the building’s surface from years of sea breeze and chimney smoke gave the structure the look of abandonment, though many workers moved in and out of the large bay doors loading and moving crates. A small sign bearing the name “Phillips Shipbuilders” hung above the door. It swung in the breeze with a gentle
squeak, squawk
.

Devon gave his horse a reassuring pat as he slid to the ground and tethered the reins to a nearby post. What was he to say once inside? He was unsure, but he had to do something. Taking calculated steps, he traversed the plank walkway to the main door of the office.

“Thornwood!” called a familiar voice before he could reach the door.

Devon sighed. So much for making this little visit alone. Turning, he saw Steelings tying up his horse beside Poseidon.

“Thornwood! I’ve searched the entire city for you.” Steelings crossed the distance between them with long strides. “At least I caught you before you did something rash to Mr. Phillips,” he added as he slowed beside Devon.

Devon shot him a look of disbelief. “When have you ever been able to stop me from impulsive actions, Steelings?”

“True. But still, we require a plan. We can’t simply storm in there and demand that Mr. Phillips allow you to have his sister.”

“What do you know of it?”

Steelings shrugged. “Your mother filled in a few of the details I was missing.”

“Of course she did.”

“Don’t be angry. I’m here to assist you with your leg shackle.” Steelings grinned.

Devon turned a narrow-eyed glare on his friend. He was in no mood to joke about the matter. Behind this door stood the man responsible for Lily’s betrothal to Harrow. What could Devon possibly say to change her brother’s stance on the issue? His fingers curled around the doorknob.

“Slow down, Thornwood. Shouldn’t we think this through first?”

“No. We shouldn’t.” Devon swung open the heavy oak door and strode inside, Steelings at his back.

They walked into the dimly lit office, approaching a small, pointy-nosed man where he sat perched behind a desk on the far wall. The man’s gaze was on a ledger spread across his desk as he said, “Welcome to Phillips Shipbuilders of London, building quality vessels since aught five.” He looked up, his eyes widening. “Oh, Your Grace. My apologies, I wasn’t expecting you today.” He stood, rounding the corner of his desk. “I suppose you’re here about the ships.”

Devon grimaced at the question. “Not today.”

“Are you certain? The two flagships of the fleet are in the berth just outside the building. You must have walked right past them.”

Devon’s jaw tightened. He’d heard enough about the damn ships today. If only he didn’t need them so badly. “Actually, I am here to see Mr. Phillips.”

“Oh.” The secretary deflated slightly. “I will see if he’s in.”

Devon nodded in agreement. Once the man left the room through a door on the far wall, Devon turned to look at Steelings. How he hated to wait at a time like this.

Steelings scratched his head in thought. “Don’t the ships you’re having built by Miss Phillips’ brother muddy the waters a bit in all of this?”

Devon’s eyes narrowed on his friend. “You have no idea.”

“I can guess.”

“You would most likely be correct.”

The secretary returned with a rather pinched look about his mouth. “Mr. Phillips is busy and unable to speak with you at the moment.”

Devon clenched his fists at his sides. “He’s too busy?”

“That is what he says, Your Grace.”

Devon was already striding toward the door in the far wall. Before the man realized what was happening, he had been shoved aside as Devon and Steelings entered the back offices. They only needed to open two incorrect doors before they found the door to Solomon’s lair.

He sat reclined with his booted feet crossed on the corner of his desk. A glass of dark liquor rested in one hand on his chest while the other thumbed through a document.

Devon stepped inside the opulently appointed room. “I can see how dreadfully busy you are, Phillips.”

“Thornwood, who allowed you access to this office?”

“I allowed myself access.” He crossed the room to take the seat across the desk from Solomon while Steelings stood sentry at his back.

“You received my note, I assume?” Solomon asked with a gleam in his dark eyes.

“No, I have come to discuss the arrangement you have agreed to with Lord Harrow regarding Miss Phillips.” Devon stared down the man in front of him without blinking.

“This is awkward, then.”

“You know of my opposition to this match already?”

“I admit I’d suspected as much. However, my decision is made. Harrow is to marry my sister and I’m quite happy about the outcome.”

Happy? How could he be happy? Devon’s hand clenched into a fist on his thigh. “I’m sorry to hear that, for I am asking you to break your agreement.”

“Break my agreement? Why would I want to do that?” Solomon set his drink on the desk.

“I would like to marry your sister.” It was amazing how easy those words were to say.

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that, Thornwood.” Solomon dropped his feet to the floor and sat up from his reclined position in his chair. “Her betrothal will be announced at the ball tonight. As a matter of fact, I need to get changed into appropriate evening attire for the joyous occasion. So if you don’t mind…” Solomon broke off with a meaningful glance at the door.

Devon bristled at being asked to leave but did not allow his face to show it. “Actually, I do mind. I would like the chance to discuss this with you.”

“Thornwood, there is nothing you can say that will change the outcome of these events. In fact, if you had received my note you would know…”

“You aren’t interested in having my title in the family?” Devon could not understand Solomon’s stance. Didn’t everyone clamor over connections to titles and such?

Solomon steepled his fingers in front of him in a show of power. “No. What Harrow offered serves my purposes perfectly.”

Devon leaned forward in his chair. “I can offer your sister a good life.”

“That is neither here nor there,” Solomon returned with a small shrug.

“Your sister’s happiness is not of importance in this decision?”

Solomon sighed. “Thornwood, the betrothal will be announced in a few hours’ time. I really must get ready to leave.”

“What has Harrow offered you?”

Solomon leveled a glare at him yet said nothing.

“Surely, there is room for some negotiation. I could make some sort of arrangement…”

“No, Thornwood. You can’t,” Solomon said with a slight shake of his head.

“Is there nothing I can offer to change your mind?” Devon was almost out of his seat in protest.

Solomon’s mouth twisted into something resembling a smile. “Gentlemen, I must ask you to leave. We have nothing further to discuss on the subject. My sister will marry Lord Harrow as soon as the banns can be posted.” Solomon stood. “My decision is final. She is as good as married. Thornwood, it would be best if you were to go now.”

Devon stood to his full height before leaning over the desk to look down on Solomon. He truly was a greedy, heartless bastard. How could anyone throw his own sister to the wolves for financial gain? Yet there was no reasoning with the man. Devon could see the resolve in his eyes. He had lost her.

His fingers gripped the edge of the desk to keep from knocking the superior smirk off Solomon’s face. How had he been so unfortunate as to have business dealings with this man? Devon had been blinded by his own desperate need for the ships Solomon offered. But no more. “You will regret this, Phillips.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

Steelings spoke for the first time at his back. “Thornwood, we should go.”

“Yes, Steelings. There’s something I need to take care of as soon as possible.” Devon turned and stalked out of the office.

His stomach twisted over the knowledge that Lily would marry Harrow and he could do nothing to stop it. She should be his. He swung the door open onto the harbor. He had allowed this to happen. He paused outside the office to look out at two of his new ships. The gentle slap, slap, slap of the water against the wooden hull was like a slap to his face.

He had failed. His desire to have a respectable income for his family—and even more than that, his desire to use those ships as an excuse to leave London—had overshadowed all reason. He’d known Solomon wasn’t a good sort, but his price had been attainable. Ha! He now saw the price of this endeavor and it was too high. Looking beyond the ships to the harbor, he paused to watch as the sea tossed and carried ships out to the horizon. That wasn’t where he belonged. Not anymore.

His place was here, fulfilling his responsibilities as a duke, with Lily at his side. Lily. He closed his eyes. It was too late for that part of his future to come true but it was not too late for everything. He gritted his teeth as anger seeped steadily into his veins. He began walking, his boots landing with loud thuds on the wooden walkway.

“Ah, look, there’s a tavern,” Devon tossed over his shoulder in a voice that could be considered too calm for the circumstances.

“Yes, perhaps a drink is exactly what you need. We’ll go get foxed and not think about life for the remainder of the evening,” Steelings returned as they crossed the road.

The Boar’s Hoof Inn stood opposite the London docks. A steady stream of sailors was treading in and out of the establishment in search of either a first drink on land or a last. Smoke seeped from the open door, swirling around Devon’s shoulders as he edged his way into the crowded tavern. He and Steelings pushed their way to the bar past a dirty collection of the sea’s finest ruffians.

“Two bottles of your finest whiskey,” Devon stated, dropping a bag of coins on the wooden bar top.

Steelings stepped up to the bar, nudging his friend in the elbow as the bartender got the bottles from a crate in a back room. “Two bottles? Well, that should do the trick. If it takes more than that to numb us, we have larger problems than I realized.

“We’ll need glasses as well,” Steelings told the man with the whiskey as he neared.

“That won’t be necessary, thank you.”

“Thank ye, come back soon.” The man pocketed the money and turned his attention back to a group of rowdy men at the end of the bar.

Steelings took one of the bottles and popped the cork out with his teeth. “Drinking from the source, are we? All right, then. On days like this, I suppose it is appropriate.”

Devon said nothing. He pulled the cork from the top of the whiskey in his hand and took a long draw on the sweet fire in the bottle. He held up the glass bottle, analyzing the level of liquid left inside before taking one more gulp. Exhaling, he turned to look at Steelings. “Take one more drink.”

“All in the name of friendship,” Steelings offered before downing a large gulp.

“There. Now, hand me your bottle,” Devon said with an outstretched hand.

“You need them both, do you? Well, you have had a rough go of it today.” Steelings passed Devon the container, the brown liquid swirling inside.

“Yes, two bottles should do,” Devon said as he stepped past Steelings.

With the necks of the two bottles wrapped in the grasp of one hand, he made his way for the door. Pausing to rip a lit candle from its perch on the wall by the door, he stepped out into the setting afternoon sun with Steelings at his back. The dirt on the street crunched under his boots as he walked back toward the shipbuilder’s office where Poseidon was still tethered to a post.

“Thornwood, where are you going? You’re beginning to worry me a bit,” Steelings said beside him, but Devon ignored his friend.

Passing the candle to Steelings, he reached into his pocket and pulled his handkerchief free. Pausing beside his horse, he poured a portion of the whiskey onto the fabric until it dripped with brown liquor. Stuffing the handkerchief into the top of the bottle, he set it at his feet. One down, one to go. He reached into his pocket in search of another piece of fabric and pulled from its depths the silk stocking he’d taken to keeping with him. Lily’s stocking. His lips twitched in an attempt at an ironic smile.

He kissed the lace top of the fabric before drenching it with the liquor and stuffing it into the other bottle of whiskey. Picking up the bottle at his feet, he took the candle back from Steelings and began to walk toward the plank path that led to the office.

“Thornwood, what are you doing?” Steelings grabbed his shoulder. “This is madness, Thornwood! You cannot do this!”

Devon threw off Steelings’ attempt to hold him back, striding forward down the plank walkway.

“Think about what you’re doing, Thornwood!” Steelings yelled from behind him.

Devon lifted the candle flame to the fabric in his hand. He lit the edges of handkerchief and lace that peeked from the tops of the containers in his hand. He watched for a second while the lace that once caressed Lily’s thigh singed and burned in his hand.

“Devon, stop!”

“For Lily,” he growled as he threw the first bottle onto the deck of the new three-masted frigate floating in the berth beside him.

He took a few steps forward before lobbing the second bottle onto the ship floating at its side. There was a burst of flames as the bottles shattered.

Fire seeped across the wooden planks of the ships. Sparks floated up on the breeze and hit the sails where they hung loose in the sky. The flames crept up the masts, singeing lines while spreading across the decks.

The crackles and pops of the flames were interrupted a moment later by the main mast falling from one of the ships with a crash across the bow of the second ship.

“Good God,” Steelings muttered at Devon’s side.

Devon watched as his dreams for his future burned in the London harbor and yet he felt nothing. There was no sense of loss. But there was also no sense of righteousness. There was no victory in this moment. None of it mattered anymore. He had lost Lily because of these damned ships. Now, even with them destroyed, he couldn’t get her back. The sun was setting. Soon her betrothal would be announced. All was lost.