Page 20 of The English Duke
She was not going to pay any attention to Mr. Burthren. He was going to say something she didn’t want to hear, words that would be critical and no doubt correct. She shouldn’t have spoken in such a way to the duke, their reluctant host. She really shouldn’t have lost her temper.
“Miss York!”
He was gaining on her and, short of gathering up her skirts and beginning to run, she had no option but to stop, turn, and face him.
“You’ve been crying,” he said, his warm brown eyes filled with concern.
“Yes, Mr. Burthren, I’ve been crying. Go ahead and lecture me about my rudeness. I no doubt deserve it.”
“I didn’t follow you to lecture you, Miss York, but to bring you back to the boathouse. His Grace wishes to talk with you.”
“I don’t wish to talk to him. I’ve said everything I wish to say.”
“He deserves a hearing, don’t you think?”
“No,” she said, turning and beginning to walk away again.
“There’s a reason he didn’t want your father’s bequest. Aren’t you curious why?”
She was not going to listen to the man. She kept walking.
“No,” she said. “I’m not. I would have thought he’d be thrilled to accept everything my father wanted him to have. Evidently, he doesn’t care. No doubt he thinks it’s all worthless.”
“That’s not the case, Miss York, I can assure you.”
She stopped again, turned, and looked up at him.
“Then I don’t understand,” she said. “Why put everything in the stable?”
“Because of his honor,” he said.
It was such a strange answer she didn’t move.
“Jordan has a rather well-developed sense of honor,” he continued. “Overdeveloped, perhaps. If he has one overriding flaw, that’s it. Other people might be able to get away with telling a lie, but he doesn’t. Nor can he abide anyone in his circle who does. In school his nickname was Saint Jordan. Not a positive sobriquet, by the way.”
“I haven’t asked him to lie, Mr. Burthren.”
He smiled. “No, of course you haven’t. Jordan’s honor doesn’t limit itself to honesty, Miss York. He dislikes subterfuge of any sort. Or cheating. He was the first to report a boy for cribbing on an exam.”
She frowned at him, still not understanding.
“He thinks taking your father’s notes and his vessel would be like cheating,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because he didn’t do the work on the torpedo ship himself.”
“He and my father communicated about Bessie every week,” she said. “He knows everything about it.”
“I understand your father got the vessel to work.”
She nodded.
“A great achievement,” he said.
“Not as great an achievement as you think, Mr. Burthren. He didn’t share the information with anyone.”
“Not even you?” he asked, sounding surprised.
