Page 10 of The English Duke
She half expected the duke to forbid them admittance to his home. Instead, he nodded toward Reese.
“Would you see them to a convenient parlor?”
Thankfully, Josephine stopped staring, goggle-eyed, at the duke. Reese offered his arm to Gran again and she placed her hand on it, allowing him to lead her into the house through the massive double doors. Josephine followed, smiling brightly up at a portly servant in a dark blue suit who stood as still and as straight as a statue.
Martha followed, glancing back at the duke.
A man’s character was revealed within moments of meeting him. The trick was to pay attention, listen, and make judgments based on what he said and how he acted. She understood everything there was to know about the Duke of Roth within seconds of their greeting. He was an arrogant, miserable person, rude, and unconcerned for anyone but himself.
Unless she’d been completely wrong.
The duke followed them, but slowly and obviously painfully. He was using a walking stick she hadn’t seen until now and leaning heavily on it. His left leg seemed to be fine, but his right dragged behind him.
She stopped herself from offering help even as the words trembled on her lips.
He glanced up to find her staring at him. His face firmed. He straightened, his shoulders squaring, but he didn’t look away.
The glance they shared was strangely intimate, as if she’d come upon him at his most vulnerable. The moment elongated, became almost painfully awkward. She wanted to ask what had happened. He said he’d been unwell. Had he been referring to his leg?
She wanted to apologize, but wasn’t sure why. For seeing him limp so badly? For misjudging him? The lines bracketing his mouth were evidently not caused by disdain as much as pain.
“Thank you,” she said, wanting to connect with him in some way. “A few minutes is all we need. Just time for Gran to rest. The wagon will be here shortly with my father’s things. As soon as it’s unloaded, we’ll be gone.”
He didn’t offer a comment in response. Instead, he only nodded.
She understood, finally, that he wasn’t going to move as long as she was watching him. She turned and followed Gran and Josephine inside the house.
Bloody damn hell and all the saints. The last thing he’d wanted was for Martha York and her family to show up on his doorstep.
She’s an invaluable asset to me, Hamilton,her father had often written.Martha knows as much about the York Torpedo as I do.
Bloody damn hell. He didn’t need her here. He didn’t need York’s work. Not his notes. Not his insight. Nothing. He’d do it on his own, damn it, or die trying.
He stood there, his leg throbbing, forever reminding him of his limitations.
Now he had four of them in his house. Plus Reese.
One of the reasons he’d enjoyed York’s friendship so much was because the man hadn’t made any demands on him. He might write and suggest an answer to a problem Jordan was experiencing, but he wouldn’t expect an answer immediately. Nor would he have descended on Sedgebrook as his family had done.
One thing he had to say about Martha York, she didn’t give up. When she’d first written him, he’d been surprised. He’d never corresponded with any of Matthew’s relatives. Perhaps he’d suspected the news she wrote and didn’t want to face it. Perhaps he simply didn’t want to be bothered with anyone else—recovering from his injuries had made him insular and centered in his own misery. He’d ignored each of her letters until he’d finally opened one. His immediate emotion on reading her words was shame. What he’d suspected was true. Matthew had died. His second feeling was a deep sadness. If anything, the older man was a mentor, understanding his need to know why, to create.
Yet he didn’t want Matthew’s bequest. Perhaps part of it was a vague feeling he didn’t deserve to be the recipient of the man’s intelligence and talent. A greater part was a desire to accomplish the development of his invention on his own.
He’d been labeled since birth, a spoke in a wheel, a cog in the whole. He was a Hamilton of Sedgebrook, a second son still expected to make a difference in the world, to matter. He was a naval officer with a purchased commission, but still required by his own sense of honor to accomplish and achieve.
His invention was the one thing solely his, belonging to no one else but him. Granted, Matthew had steered him in the right direction several times, but he’d put in the long hours, redone the calculations hundreds of times, experimented with various types of pendulum devices.
“Are you coming in?” Reese asked from the doorway. “I’ve settled them in the Rococo Parlor and ordered refreshments.”
Jordan nodded and took another step. Reese couldn’t stop himself from sending him a look of sympathy. He didn’t know what was worse, pity from his boyhood friend or his home being invaded.
Chapter 4
“How are you feeling, Gran?” Martha asked, moving to sit on the odd-shaped sofa next to her grandmother.
Gran was leaning her head back against the carved wood, her eyes closed. In that moment she looked older than her years.
She should never have decided to come. If anything happened to Gran it would be her fault.
