If I Only Had a Duke(40)

Impossible to shoulder his burden for him, or absorb his anguish.

But perhaps she could accompany him to a deeper understanding. He'd escorted her on this journey reluctantly at first, witnessing her transformation, allowing her to safely experiment with new identities, and then, when she needed him most, he'd simply been there-rock solid and sharpened to a single purpose-the relentless warrior and the consummate lover.   





 

She wanted to be there for him, by his side, to protect him when he tested the boundaries of his new existence. When he was freed from the stranglehold of this fixation with revenge.

She turned and rested her forehead against his. Brushed a finger lightly against the cleft in his chin.

He'd have to allow her to be there.

And he'd have to be the one to pry open his rusted heart and believe himself worthy of love and understanding.

Gently, she lifted his arm and slid out from under him. He rolled over but didn't wake.

She drew on her stockings and her petticoats, and threw her dress over her head, wrestling with the hooks up the back. Twisting her hair into a simple knot and securing it with pins, she slapped her one bedraggled bonnet on her head.

Donning her satin pelisse for warmth, she opened the door from the master's cabin and walked out onto the deck, the sea air bringing a salt sting to her eyes.

The helmsman standing above her on the deck caught her eye and tipped his cap. "Morning, madam."

Thea waved before continuing toward the bow.

The Truth and Daylight had a high-railed forecastle deck that she had noted earlier while boarding the vessel. Thea carefully made her way up the ladder to the forecastle. Molly stood at the prow of the ship, leaning out over the railing.

Thea joined her, soaking in the shimmer of the sun as it danced over silver waves and dipped into lines of white, frothing wake.

After a time, Molly tilted her head toward Thea. "I'm a bit scared to go home," she admitted, her brown eyes vulnerable.

Thea looped an arm around Molly's thin shoulders, holding on to the railing with her free hand. "That's understandable."

"My mam will be so angry with me for stealing her savings. And then I went and cast my pearl to a swine, as Mam would say. Bollocks. What's wrong with me?" Molly lifted her head, blinking her eyes to stave off tears. "Da always said I had the devil in me."

Thea gave her shoulders a squeeze. "And you won that money back with interest, taught that swine a lesson he won't soon forget, and you're bringing an uncle home with you. That ought to soften the blow, don't you think?"

"Could help, at that." Molly wiped a sleeve across her eyes. "Though she'll be angry with him, too. The both of us. It'll be stale bread and scalded milk for supper tonight."

Thea smiled. "Give her time. Con's a good man."

At first she'd thought him rough and rude, but now she knew he was just as soft inside as Dalton. Strong and stoic. Honorable and kind.

"You'll always land on your feet," Thea continued. "You're meant for great things, Molly Barton. Mark my words."

Molly grinned. "Will you allow me to raid the library when you live at Balfry House?"

"Pardon?"

"When you're married to the duke and live at Balfry. Or maybe you two will live in London?"

Thea dropped her hand from Molly's shoulders. "That will never happen."

"Dunno 'bout that. You smile so much more than when I first met you, and your eyes get all shiny like when you look at him. And the way he stares at you . . ." She gave a low whistle and scrunched up her freckled nose. "It's kind of disgusting."

Thea smiled.

"See?" Molly said, poking her arm. "You're smiling."

She couldn't help smiling. It was all that lingering bliss still humming through her body. The bracing breeze on her cheeks. Her heart couldn't help but lift with the wind.

The day was gray and the fog thick, but somewhere the sky was blue.

The deck teemed with activity. Sailors in dark flannel and wool trousers, peacoats and caps, seemed to be conducting a strange dance, one-two-three, coil this rope, pull on that rope, climb this mast, one-two-three.

"Stand by to set sail," a booming voice called out from the stern of the ship.

"Fore manned and ready," yelled back a sailor standing near the foremast.

"Lay aloft and loose haul sail!"

At the command, four sailors leapt onto the shrouds that secured the foremast to the sides of the vessel and began racing up toward the rigging.

"Oh, look." Molly pointed. "They're going to set the sails!"

The sailors went hand over hand up the rope latticework at an unbelievably fast pace. More sailors jumped onto the shrouds and began climbing up after the first group, swarming up and out like ants, they were so high.

Thea caught her breath as the first sailor released his hold on the mast and began sidling out sideways on a precarious perch.

In a matter of minutes the men had spread out and released the ropes that had held the sails up in bunches. The sails dropped down halfway, staying partially furled at the bottom, and instantly filled with the strong wind that had blown in overnight.   





 

"Imagine doing that in the pitch dark during a storm!" Molly said excitedly. "I'm going to go get a closer look." She strode away, hat in hand.

Thea smiled as she watched her hurry away. The seamen didn't seem to mind Molly wore the same trousers as they did. They'd surely seen stranger sights on their travels.

Compared to the shackles of the poverty Molly had been born into, the restraints of Thea's strict upbringing and the weight of her family's expectations seemed trivial.

But words and rules sometimes formed barriers as strong as the thickest dungeon walls.

She was free now.

She'd study Dalton's art collection and write to the governors of the British Institution when she'd finished the catalogue.

Perhaps she could even hire Molly as her assistant.

The ship flew across the ocean, white sails billowing over her head.

Endless waves stretched before her and seagulls swooped overhead.

"It's a pleasing sight, isn't it, my lady?" Con joined her at the railing. "Soon we'll be seeing the green, green shores of Ireland."

He doffed his cap and placed it across his chest. "‘When Erin first rose from the dark-swelling flood, God blessed the green island, He saw it was good. The Emerald of Europe, it sparkled, it shone, in the ring of this world the most precious stone.'"

He set his cap back on his head. "Dr. Drennan captured it, don't you think?"

Thea nodded. "Will you stay in Ireland, Con?"

Con gripped the railing with rough and worn fingers. "My home's in London now. I'm set in my ways. I've steady employment and other . . . activities."

"I know."

Con nodded absently.

"No. Con." Thea held his gaze. "I know."

He blinked, searching her face. "Well now. Sure and you've truly cracked him, my lady. Never thought I'd see the day. Maybe there's hope for that sinner after all."

"I know about your past with Molly's mother. Is there hope for . . . ?" Thea didn't want to say something to scare Con away from the idea of reconciling with Mrs. Barton, but surely he had to be thinking along those lines?

He squinted his eyes. "Probably no chance of rekindling something that died nearly twenty years ago."

Thea fingered the raised embroidery on her cuff. "There's always hope. Even for you. Even for the duke."

The ship plowed through the waves too quickly. Drawing them to Ireland. She planned to stay there forever. Aunt Emma needed someone to help her with the beekeeping. And Thea would be free there. "The duke will go back to London after . . . after he seeks answers."

"He may find more than he bargained for in Ireland. I believe he . . ." He raised his voice. "Well, speak of the devil."

Thea's heart wheeled like the seagulls above her as Dalton rose from the stairwell and walked toward them.

Really, a girl didn't stand a chance. He was only a fraction duke and mostly rogue this morning. The curving brim of his black hat cocked at a rakish angle over deep blue eyes that matched his coat. He wasn't wearing a cravat, and the top buttons of his shirt were undone, displaying a tantalizing hint of flesh.

What did he wear when he stalked the streets of London by moonlight, searching for evil?

A shiver chased between her shoulder blades.

"Speaking of me, were you?" Dalton asked, a secret, teasing smile that was just for her playing across his lips. "Only praise, I trust."

Con raised both of his eyebrows and gave him a scathing look. "What do you think now?"

Molly came barreling across the deck. "Have you a ship?" she asked Dalton, remembering her instructions not to address him by his title.

He gave her an amused smile. "I've several docked in London."

"Do you need a ship's boy? I want to see a volcano erupt on the Sandwich Islands!"

Dalton's lips quirked. "Ship's boy?"

"That's right." Molly gave a determined nod. "I'm not for staying in boggy old Cork and marrying some sod of a farmer."

Thea's heart flip-flopped when Dalton didn't laugh at Molly's outrageous ideas. He merely nodded with admirable gravity. "I'll make some enquiries, shall I?"

"Oh yes, please do," Molly said eagerly.

"Want to see how the ship's wheel works?" Con asked, giving Thea a quick wink that clearly communicated he plotted to leave her alone with Dalton.