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

“Well, as a matter of fact, I am,” Myles said. “Come to think of it, maybe I’ll travel with you. I’m tired of the marriage-hunting mamas and their silly, witless daughters all vying for my attention and my title. Not one of them is interested in me as a man, only the earldom and fortune I’ll inherit someday. I don’t want some shy, placid virgin in my bed.”

Thomas stared in shock at his friend.

Myles continued. “Yes, well maybe I should explain. “I want a virgin, but I also want an enthusiastic bed partner. Do you think any of the present debutantes are anything but frigid?” He shuddered. “If you don’t want the American girl, maybe I’ll marry her.”

Thomas’s nostrils flared. “And what, pray tell, makes you think I would let you marry my ward? I will not even let you near my sisters because you are debauched. Visit your mistress and stop this nonsense.”

Myles burst into laughter and saluted him. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“You are jealous because you will never be called Your Grace, only My Lord,” Thomas teased his friend. “And for your information, Mr. Hamilton did not appear to be the type of man who would raise his daughter to be free with her favors. I doubt she is any different than the frivolous girls we have here in England. And I have no intention of marrying her.”

“Why not?” Amesbury questioned. “You need a duchess and an heir; why not marry her and be done with it? If she’s not comely, you can take a mistress. She’d probably be glad not to have to submit to your inept fumbling in the bedchamber once you have an heir and a spare anyway.”

Thomas flung his head back and roared with laughter. “All this praise from my so-called friends. What do my enemies laugh about behind my back?” His hand went up. “Don’t answer that. And I’ll have you know I don’t fumble in the company of any lady.” He paused and examined his large hands. “I play their bodies until they sing my praises and beg for a repeat performance.”

“If you say so,” Amesbury snorted.

“Now if you will excuse me.” Thomas rose. “I need a bath, food, and a comfortable bed.” Without waiting for a reply, he left his study and climbed the carpeted staircase two steps at a time.

Clearheaded and light of feet for the first time in days, he burst into his chambers with a renewed sense of purpose. He now knew what he had to do. Honor forbade him from ignoring his duty to Hamilton. How could he ever look himself in the eye if he didn’t fulfill the dead man’s wishes?

A trip to America was in his immediate future.





CHAPTER TWO



“Emma, Emma, help me,” yelled Amy Sinclair, as she burst into Emma Hamilton’s room on the top floor of Miss Beauregard’s Finishing School for Young Ladies in Brookline, Massachusetts and threw her arms around Emma’s waist.

“What’s the matter?” Emma asked as she rubbed the sobbing girl’s back. Poor Amy was an orphan and the niece of Miss Beauregard, and it was difficult for her here. When Amy was not attending to her studies, she had to earn her keep doing light household chores. Amy, because she was related to Miss Beauregard and was the youngest in the school at ten years old, was teased relentlessly and blamed for any mishap that occurred. “Come, let’s sit on my bed, and you can tell me what happened.”

“I …I…I didn’t do it. Please, Emma, you must help me. Miss Beauregard is th…th…threatening to send me back to the orphanage.” Amy managed to get the words out between hiccups. “You know my aunt doesn’t want me here, and this will be her excuse to get rid of me.”

“Miss Beauregard would do no such thing. You are family.” Emma hoped she was telling the truth. Would Amy be sent back to that horrible place? Emma tried to ignore the sudden knot in her stomach. It would not do to let Amy know she was worried. Emma needed to be strong and help solve this latest dilemma.

“Now tell me what happened.”

“Well,” Amy said as she wiped the tears from her face, “I was in the music room by myself practicing the harp. You know how much I love to play. Well, Mean Jeannie came in and pushed me over in my seat, and the harp crashed to the floor. I think it was damaged,” she added, weeping.

“Did you tell Miss Ipswich what happened?” asked Emma.

“Yes, but you know how she hates me, too.”

Emma certainly knew what it felt like to be the focus of Miss Ipswich’s wrath. “Did you explain to Miss Beauregard what happened?”

“She would not listen to me. She penned a letter to the orphanage telling them she was sending me back.”