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.
CHAPTER SIX
Emma’s heart pounded with excitement as she selected and packed many of her worldly belongings in her trunk. The things she didn’t take she’d give to her friends here, and she would donate the rest to the town’s Female Charitable Society. Emma had been told her other belongings from various estates were in storage until the time she was located permanently somewhere.
So she was finally sailing for England. She would never let the handsome, domineering duke know how excited she actually was to be traveling to his homeland with him. Excited as she was, she still had reservations about leaving her beloved America behind. And she would not make this departure easy on him.
Something nagged at her that things were not as they appeared. No matter the questions she’d asked and the answers she received… There was a shadow of secrecy surrounding the death of her dear papa. Somehow Emma would find out exactly what the duke was hiding from her regarding his death.
Before packing, Emma had handed out several items of clothing to Amy. They included her favorite plum riding habit that she had outgrown. Amy had said how much she liked it. Even so, Emma hoped the duke allowed the females of his family to mount a horse. Since coming to school, she had missed riding and the sense of freedom and exhilaration that came from it. Not to mention her favorite mare, Petunia, who had passed away last year from colic.
And this year, Emma had grown considerably. Several of her day dresses needed a small bit of altering, so Emma let down the hem and loosened the seams at the bodice before she packed those. Though she hadn’t felt it happening, her figure had changed in the past year.