The Naked Duke. Sally MacKenzieЧитать онлайн книгу.
when he turned to introduce her to his male friends. “Miss Hamilton, this is Major Charles Draysmith.”
Major Draysmith bowed. “My pleasure, Miss Hamilton.”
“And this,” James said, his grin widening, “is Robert—Robbie—Hamilton. The Earl of Westbrooke.”
Sarah gasped. Lord Westbrooke executed a jerky bow.
“You can’t be my uncle. You’re too young.”
Robbie ran his hands through hair that looked so like her father’s. “No, sorry about that. I’m your cousin. My father died last year. We’ve just put off mourning.” He smiled weakly.
“So you are David Hamilton’s daughter, girl?” Lady Gladys said. Sarah turned back to face her.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Lady Gladys nodded. “Now that I look at you, I see the resemblance. Hamiltons always did breed true. And where might your father be? Surely he accompanied you across the Atlantic?”
“My father died in early December.”
“I’m sorry, child.” Lady Gladys did look sorry. “I always liked your father. He had an intensity about him that was quite compelling. And your mother? Is she deceased also?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“But why did you leave America so shortly after your father’s death?” Lady Amanda looked suspiciously at Sarah.
There was no point in hiding her situation, Sarah decided. It would be clear soon enough. It looked doubtful that her cousin could take her in, so she’d need help finding work.
“My father was very active in politics and a respected physician, but he had little interest in practical matters. He gave money away freely and never insisted that his patients pay for his services. I would have had very little to live on had I stayed in Philadelphia. But I couldn’t stay—I promised my father I’d come to his brother in England.”
Lady Gladys shook her head. “Well, I’m sorry for your loss, Miss Hamilton, but that does not explain what you were doing in my nephew’s bed. Certainly that’s not how they go on in the colonies?”
Sarah flushed and raised her chin. “I thought it was my bed. Mr. Alvord came along later. I was quite as surprised as you to find him there this morning.”
“Mr. Alvord? James?”
“Yes, Aunt, we’ll sort all that out shortly. What I would like to know is why you felt compelled to invade my room?”
Lady Gladys flicked her fingers at him, but Sarah noticed she did have the grace to blush. “You didn’t come home last night. I was worried.”
“Madam, I am twenty-eight years old. I have risked my life for my country. If I decide not to come home one night, I think that is my own affair!”
“But you never do, James. Not come home that is. You are very responsible. And there is the Richard business. Of course I was worried. You might have been seriously hurt.”
James looked to the ceiling for inspiration and made a mental note that his aunt knew something about “the Richard business.” The Foreign Office could take lessons from his aunt and Lady Amanda. Their spy network was more extensive than either Britain’s or France’s.
“Did you think to ask the innkeeper how I was?”
“I was worried, James. I didn’t think to ask. And how would he know if something had happened to you in the night?”
“Apparently something did happen to him in the night.”
James chose to ignore Lady Amanda’s muttered comment. “Good God, madam,” he said, addressing his aunt, “didn’t you even think to knock?”
“I thought you were dying. There was no time to knock.” Lady Gladys coughed and glanced away. Her cheeks flushed. “I, um, was quite surprised at the sight I encountered.”
“Yes, yes.” James didn’t want his aunt to go down that conversational path.
“You know you will have to do the right thing, don’t you?” Lady Gladys gestured towards Robbie. “As head of his family, that idiot there should demand it.”
Robbie’s hair was now standing at right angles from his head. He squeezed his eyes shut. “James…” he began.
“Stubble it, Robbie. I’m more than willing to marry Miss Hamilton.” James laughed. “It saves me from the Marble Queen, doesn’t it?”
“Marry me!” Sarah could barely get the words out. She felt as if a huge weight had settled on her chest.
“You are most thoroughly compromised, girl,” Lady Gladys said. “Half the country saw you stark naked in bed with my nephew.”
“But nothing happened!” Sarah frowned. “At least, I hope nothing happened.”
Robbie and Charles were suddenly attacked by coughing fits. Lady Gladys and Lady Amanda stared at Sarah as if she had lost her mind.
“What did or didn’t happen is immaterial, young lady. I don’t pretend to know how things are done in the colonies, but in England when a gentleman compromises a lady—and believe me, there is no doubt that you are compromised—he marries her. James understands that.”
“Yes, Aunt.”
Sarah turned to Mr. Alvord. “But it was an accident.” Even Sarah could hear the panic creeping into her voice.
James smiled reassuringly down at her, then looked at his aunt. “Perhaps it would be a good idea if Miss Hamilton and I spent a few minutes alone to sort this out?”
Lady Gladys snorted. “There’s nothing to sort out.”
“Still, a few minutes of privacy are in order.” James looked back down at Sarah. “Miss Hamilton, will you join me for a short stroll? The Green Man is only a step or two from a rather pleasant little stream. I suggest we go there.”
Sarah nodded, though she got the distinct feeling that her concurrence was not required. Mr. Alvord bowed to the assemblage and whisked her out of the room.
“I am sorry for all the confusion,” he said when they had finally cleared the noise of the inn. “It’s been rather a comedy of errors, has it not?”
“I’m not certain if it is a comedy or a tragedy, Mr. Alvord.”
“James.”
“But I barely know you. I couldn’t possibly call you by your given name.”
“Of course you could. I intend to call you Sarah.”
Sarah frowned up at him, but he grinned back.
“In any event, ‘Mr. Alvord’ is incorrect. My family name is Runyon. Alvord is my title.”
“Your title?”
“I’m sure your republican soul is not going to like this, Sarah, so I hesitate to inform you that my full name is James William Randolph Runyon, Duke of Alvord, Marquis of Walthingham, Earl of Southgate, Viscount Balmer, Baron Lexter.”
“No!” Sarah stopped walking and gaped up at him.
James shook his head. “It’s the truth.”
Sarah worked her way back through the long list of titles. “You’re a duke!”
“Of Alvord. Yes.”
“Does that mean I’m supposed to call you ‘my lord’?”
“Technically, you’re supposed to address me as ‘your grace.”
“My grace?”
James grinned. “I would love to be your grace.”
Sarah thought about that. She shook