Son of a Duke Read online

  "You are safe from the clutches of the War Office for now, Miss Quinton," he blurted out, wresting his eyes from her enticing features and taking a drink from his tea cup.

  "That is it?" she asked, and he knew that the statement was quite lackluster after the emotional build up of four days of waiting. But that was how the War Office worked. A long wait for a not very long response.

  Nathan set the tea cup on the desk in front of him.

  "I am afraid so. Government bureaucratic machines are never really well oiled as you can imagine," he said.

  Nora shook her head. "I cannot say that I do know that, Nathan."

  He looked at her then and let his gaze linger.

  "No, I guess you do not."

  And then silence fell on them, but he knew exactly what she was thinking because it was what he was thinking. This may be the last time they saw each other. The thought made him wince internally, and he wished there was something he could say to prolong the moment, make the conversation last for hours, days even, however long it took to convince her...

  Of what?

  What were his feelings towards Eleanora Quinton?

  He was afraid they involved more than just a passing acquaintance, and anything more than that was beyond his power. The notion left him deflated. But he was saved once again by Samuel's impeccable timing.

  "Mama!"

  Samuel burst through the doors and stopped, the epitome of calmness, just as he had done the night of the ball "Sorry, Mama, but it is Lady Gregenden. She's-" He halted and looked at Nathan.

  Nora looked at Nathan and nodded. "It is all right, Samuel. What is the problem with Lady Gregenden?"

  "She is up."

  "She is up?" Nathan swung his head back and forth between the pair like the pendulum on a clock.

  "Yes, she is up," Samuel confirmed.

  "It is only ten o'clock." Nora set her cup down abruptly, sloshing tea into the saucer.

  "And she is asking for you, Mama."

  Nora looked away from her son but not quite back at Nathan.

  "Samuel, will you please stay here with Mr. Black until I can take care of Lady Gregenden?"

  A smile instantly lit Samuel's face.

  "Of course, Mama."

  Samuel stepped up to Nathan, grabbed his hand, and pulled him from the antechamber to the little room beyond so quickly he missed the look of disbelief on Nora's face. He heard her slip from the other room and even heard the door click before Samuel stopped pulling on his arm.

  "Both of you sleep in here? At the same time?" Nathan could probably touch both walls if he stretched out his arms while standing in the middle of the room.

  "Yes, is it not wonderful?" Samuel sat on what was probably his cot in the corner, surveying the domain. "We even have our own fireplace. Not everyone gets their own fire."

  Nathan now saw the entirety of the ratty chair in front of what Samuel called a fireplace but was really nothing more than a stove on which to brew coffee and suddenly recalled the dark circles under Nora's eyes. How many nights had she spent in that chair staring at the flames in the stove? How many more nights would she spend there? He wished he had the power to make it none.

  "Do you have such a nice room, Mr. Black?" Samuel asked.

  Nathan thought of his room in his brother's house with its fine draperies and heavy, dark furniture and his other room in his father's house with the intricate carpets and plush chairs. "No, Samuel, I do not believe I do."

  Samuel smiled softly and tilted his head in contemplation. What he was contemplating Nathan could not imagine.

  "Samuel." Nathan moved to sit on the bed opposite the cot when an image of Nora in a virginal white nightgown, her hair loose and scattered over the pillow, her face flush with sleep, her mouth -

  Nathan settled into the ancient chair, put his elbows on his knees, leaned closer to the boy and demanded his mind to behave.

  "Do you like it here? Do you like working for the Gregendens?"

  He watched the boy's mouth begin to form an answer, but then the dark eyes so much like Nora's changed as if Samuel realized his answer was not correct. "I do not know anything else," he finally said.

  Nathan wanted to take the boy's hand, grab Nora, and walk out the front door without ever letting them come back. But he could not do that. He could not take care of them. He wanted Samuel to catch fireflies in a glass jar, hide frogs in his bed to scare the maids and climb to the top of trees just to see the sun set. He wanted Nora to be able to sit in a better chair in front of a bigger fire before she went to bed and slept in his arms.

  But he could not promise any of that.

  And who was he to say the life he wanted to give them was better than what they were living now? People lived as Samuel and Nora did for years and died happy and fulfilled. But he knew a different life, lived a different life, but it may not have been that way if his father had not taken him in when his mother had died. His birth mother had been a maid like Nora, and if his father had not come for him, Nathan would have lived a life much like Samuel's was now. He could not imagine being without his brother or his father. He could not imagine not having Jane in his life when he was a rebellious teenager. But what Samuel had said was true. Samuel did not know anything else.

  So instead of continuing with a conversation that was sure to make him frustrated, Nathan reached into his pocket for the deck of cards he kept there.

  "Now, have you ever played poker, Samuel?"

  It was nearly thirty minutes later when Nathan realized that although Samuel may have been a novice at cards, he was also a quick learner.

  "A full house beats a pair?" Samuel asked.

  "Of course, it does." Nathan gathered the cards strewn over the surface of Samuel's cot.

  His knees screamed at having been bent for so long as Nathan precariously perched on one end of the cot. But Samuel's happily enraptured face was enough to keep Nathan from moving for hours. Maybe even days.

  "I won again?" Samuel asked.

  Nathan watched his hands deftly shuffle the cards so Samuel would not see his smile. "Yes, you won again."

  He felt only a minor prick of annoyance that Samuel had indeed won again with no help from him.

  "Have you ever gotten a royal flush, Nathan?"

  "A royal flush?"

  At the shrill sound of Nora's voice, Nathan dropped the deck of cards scattering them over the cot. Samuel's ears immediately turned a delirious shade of pink.

  "Mr. Black, are you teaching my son poker?"

  Nora stood just inside the door of the small room with her hands on her hips, her jaw clenched, her lips not in the least turned up.

  "Um-" Nathan began, but Samuel was already standing up.

  "It was my fault, Mama." He tilted his head back to look his mother in the eye. "I should not have exhibited nor manifested so much enthusiasm for the game. I apologize, Mama."

  Nora opened her mouth, but Nathan jumped up before she could speak, sending aces, eights and some fours to the floor.

  "It was my fault, actually, Miss Quinton. I forgot my place." Nathan looked her in the eye also, hoping Samuel knew some secret trick of defense that he did not.

  Nora's mouth suddenly softened, and she squatted, her hands on her knees to bring her face closer to Samuel's face.

  "Did you win?" she asked her son.

  Samuel took a step back as if his mother's question had stung him. "Yes, Mama."

  She smiled. Now it was Nathan who took a step back.

  "Good," she said and straightened. "Mr. Black and I must finish our conversation, Samuel. Why don't you run out to the stable and ask Michael if he needs your help with the horses today?"

  "Yes, Mama." Samuel repeated, apparently the only phrase stuck in his brain.

  When he did not move, Nora softly smiled again. "Samuel?"

  Samuel blinked and shook his head. "Right, Mama. I am sorry, Mama."

  He disappeared out the door.

  ~

  Not once in nin
e years had Nora ever caught her son doing anything that so much as whispered impropriety. The fact that the first time she did, Samuel was in the company of one Mr. Nathan Black did not strike Nora at all as odd. She sort of fancied the notion.

  "Did he really win?" she asked, knowing she was smiling more brilliantly than she had in years.

  Nathan did not respond. At least not with words. Instead he took a step forward, bent his head, and laid his lips gently on hers. Nora kept her eyes open and did not move. Nathan's lips were soft, barely even a presence gliding across her lips. His eyes were closed, and his long, black lashes fanned his cheeks. His broad shoulders blocked out the rest of the room. Except for his lips, he did not touch her.

  And then he was gone.

  Nora still did not move even as Nathan stepped back.

  "Yes, he really did win," Nathan said.

  Nora had never been kissed before, at least not kissed willingly, and she did not know what one said after such an occasion. So she stood there in her room with the man who had done the kissing, hoping he would notice her awkwardness and respond accordingly.

  "Perhaps we should finish our conversation." Nathan gestured toward the chair while he sat on Samuel's cot.

  Nora was pretty sure that that was not what someone said after sharing a kiss, but in the circumstances, it was appropriate. So she sat.

  And plunged through the awkwardness she still felt with practicality.

  "If you please, Nathan, is it common practice to shoot spies?" Nora asked.

  Nathan seemed unsurprised by her question as he answered readily.

  "Unfortunately in this case, yes. Archer is in too deep for us to pull him out and give him a fair trial. Removing Archer would be like declaring to Napoleon that we had found him out and then his resources would scatter. We would lose track of them, and a network would set up and start the whole process again. Only this time we would not be able to watch them. Elimination is the only option."

  Nora leaned in. "Are you usually the one to do the eliminating?"

  Nathan grinned sheepishly. "Uh, no. I try to avoid situations in which there is violence. I prefer to barter in information."

  She saw the way his eyes went downward while he was speaking, and she was compelled to ask, "Why?"

  He looked back up at her then and frowned. There was a degree of hesitancy about his expression, and Nora wondered if he were about to lie to her.

  "I would tell you the entire truth, but it is not mine to tell. The point of the matter being that I do not like hurting people. No matter in what form."

  Nora paused before asking her next question, taking a moment to realize that Nathan had not hidden the truth from her but had graciously side stepped the issue on behalf of..another person?

  "Then why are you in this position?"

  Nathan smiled glumly. "It is expected of the son of a duke, legitimate or not, to enter the military. It just so happens that in our family, entering the military is a brief cover for joining the War Office in more clandestine opportunities."

  "And the other night was a clandestine opportunity?"

  Nathan shrugged. "No one on that balcony that night knew who I was. I offered them champagne even as I disappeared."

  Nora narrowed her eyes. "How did you get a tray of champagne?"

  Nathan narrowed his eyes as well. "Alec and Jane."

  "Alec and Jane? You mean the Earl of Stryden? What does he have to do with champagne?"

  "He made you blush."

  Nora sat up and gasped, startling herself because she had never gasped in astonishment before this. "I knew there was something not quite right about all the attention he was giving me."

  Nathan shrugged again. "I hear it was difficult. You really put him to the test."

  Nora laughed softly, and Nathan enjoyed the sound of it in the small room.

  "So now what do we do?" Nora asked.

  She would, of course, voice the very question he had been unwilling to even think, for thinking it led him one step closer to never seeing her again.

  Nathan leaned back. "We do nothing. Your role in this act is over, Miss Quinton, and the War Office extends its gratitude. As for the lord and lady of the house, I recommend a lengthy fabrication in which a lot is said and nothing is told. I hear you are quite good at that sort of thing."

  "Jane talks entirely too much," Nora said, standing.

  "Yes, she does, and we love her for it." Nathan stood.

  "It was a pleasure making your acquaintance, Mr. Black." Nora stood as well, extending a hand.

  She did not wear her white gloves, and the red patches of dry skin on her hand had him pausing before reaching for it, afraid he would hurt her. He looked up only to notice she was not looking at him, but that she was looking beyond him at a spot over his shoulder, in the direction of the only window in the room.

  "Nathan, I think someone is watching us."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Nathan cupped the side of Nora's face before instinct turned her head. He stepped closer and bent his head, so that whoever was watching saw an intimate embrace and not a stealthily held conversation. He slid his arm around Nora's waist, both enjoying the sensation and fearing she may collapse on him. Instead, he was delightfully surprised to find her leaning in, putting her hands on his chest.

  "I want you to look around me without turning your head. Tell me what the person looks like," Nathan whispered against her ear.

  He felt Nora's lashes flutter against his cheek as her eyes changed direction.

  "He is...small. I can see one of his hands, and it looks almost delicate. His face is hidden by a big cap. It is flopping in his face. There is red hair coming out from under it. His coat is shabby. Stained. That is all I can see." She turned her head, unknowingly nestling it in the side of his neck. "You are in the way."

  Nathan forced his grinding teeth apart. "All right. Nora, I am going to change our positions a bit. I do not want you to be frightened. I just want to get a view of the window. I am not going to hurt you."

  "I know," was all that she said.

  Her breath stole across the underside of his chin, and his mind worked not to curl his hand tighter into the fabric at her back to pull her closer. And then she snuggled into him, both bracing herself for what he was going to do and sending a tingle that went straight to his toenails and back to the tips of his ears.

  He swung her around, sat in the chair and pulled her onto his lap. He put a hand at the back of her neck and pulled her head down, so his lips met her ear.

  "Are you all right, Nora?"

  "Yes." Her voice was small but steady. She was much too light in his lap, and he wondered if an inability to sleep came with an inability to eat.

  He pivoted his head, bringing his lips to the point where her jaw met her neck. He ignored the sweet smell of her hair and lingering scent of lemons, and he ignored the urge to open his mouth, just a little, to steal a taste. Almost. He belatedly remembered to open his eyes and look toward the window without looking like he was looking. The knot of Nora's hair blocked the bottom corner of the window, preventing him from seeing whoever was spying on them. The knot would have to go.

  He speared his fingers upward, sending pins flying. The white cap slid off the top of her head and disappeared somewhere in the direction of the floor. Nora jerked as Nathan froze.

  He cradled the back of her head and whispered in her ear, "It is all right. Your hair was in the way."

  His other hand stroked her back as her muscles eventually unwound. He flicked his glance toward the window.

  The spy was indeed wearing a floppy hat that hid his face. One hand gripped the window ledge, probably holding the man up. It was delicate, almost fine, and the hair escaping the hat looked almost wispy. He looked like a she.

  Nathan buried his face in Nora's hair momentarily, and then forgot that he was doing it only as cover because the smell of it had sucked him in. Soap. It smelled like soap, and he had never smelled anything more intoxicating in h
is life.

  Nora made a soft whimpering sound, and Nathan's heart stopped. He did not dare move or speak for fear that he would continue to hurt her. And then Nathan decided he was going to kill whoever had hurt her before.

  But the figure at the window moved. He looked over his shoulder as if calling to someone and dropped from the ledge, disappearing from sight.

  Had Nathan been a gentleman, he would have released Nora immediately and separated her from him. Had Nathan been a good spy, he would have bolted from the room to follow the man who had been spying on them. But because Nathan was decidedly not a gentleman and currently did not feel like being a good spy, he did none of those things. He kept his arms around Nora and his face in her hair. She had relaxed again, sagging more now against his arm.

  Nathan ran his hand along the back of her neck, brought it forward to the soft skin under her chin, and let it drop. He eased her up to see her face. Her eyes were open, and he knew that she was seeing him. Her hair was around her shoulders making her face look thinner than it was. He picked up a few strands and drew them behind her shoulder.

  "Are you all right?"

  She nodded, still staring.

  "He is gone," he said slowly, drawing out the moment unnecessarily. "We can stand up now."

  She did not move so neither did he. They watched each other. The silence began to ring in his ears. He wondered if he should move, maybe help her to stand up, but then he wondered if he really wanted her to stand up. If they stood up, she would think it was goodbye, and for all circumstances, it probably was. But he did not feel like saying goodbye, so he sat instead.

  And then Nora leaned forward.

  His heart moved, abruptly and none too steadily, into the region of his spleen, and she kept coming at him. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips against his. The angle was awkward and shy. Their noses bumped and kept him from getting closer. She did not deepen the touch, but then he doubted she even knew how. So he closed his eyes, brought his hands up to her face and augmented the angle, bringing her in closer. Her lips parted at the movement, and the blood drained from his head.

  He sank.