Page 7 of The Duplicate Duke
“I’m like Graham’s second skin.Unless someone sees me bathing, there is no way for us to be found out.”Gwen gazed out over the water, breathing in the spicy air, enjoying the cool breeze against her skin.In her heart, she knew she was on the right path.Her brain, however, liked to poke holes in her plan.
After counting the coin in the pouch left by the investigators, they had decided to play their parts asbeau mondeand booked a well-appointed cabin.It had a skylight and enough room to dress with a small table for meals if they chose to eat in their room.
Her mother had cried the first day, remembering her last voyage with Gwen’s father.“So much hope.Harry and I were so young and foolish.We didn’t understand what the world was truly like,” she’d sobbed on Gwen’s shoulder.“How I loved that man.”
By that evening, Mama was so nauseated she couldn’t leave the cabin.Though she improved by the end of the voyage, she never ventured far from a dish or a rail she could lean over.Even with her seasickness, anticipation grew as they neared England.
Now as the ship neared the dock, they both looked to the future and Gwen’s first glimpse of the English shore.The harbor was hectic with smaller boats, wagons, and crews loading and unloading shipments; Gwen’s heart raced with excitement as she watched the activity.She belonged here, felt it deep in her soul.Satisfaction filled her at the possibilities that lay before them.Until Lord Wickton met them at the dock.
As they disembarked, Gwen spotted the same crest on a carriage that she’d seen on the envelope.A gold W engraved on a silver shield, flanked by two peregrine falcons.It made her wonder what the Shackerley coat of arms looked like.A broad-shouldered man wearing a great coat of derby brown and a beaver hat stood near the gangway, peering at the departing occupants.Somehow, she knew it was the viscount.His dark-brown hair had hints of gold, as if sun-kissed, combed back and cut just at the collar, above which was a square chin.She waved at him, certain it was Lord Wickton, and their eyes met.His were light-brown, almost the color of a good brandy.
Then he smiled and her world turned upside down.
CHAPTER4
Miles had been surprised he’d heard news so quickly.A letter from the Peelers Investigative Service had stated there were two offspring.A boy and a girl.Walters and Rutland had followed a trail from Quebec to Boston, where the late heir’s wife had family.The marchioness had adopted her maiden name, Bernard, making it more difficult to locate her.
The next missive came from Graham Beaumaris, the new Duke of Shackerley.He pulled the letter from his pocket, reading the fine sprawling handwriting.
Dear Lord Wickton,
I would like to thank you for your diligent and successful search to find me.I understand my grandfather is gone, and as you know, my father has passed, leaving me the heir to the Shackerley dukedom.I will sail on the next packet, the Amity, arriving in Liverpool in early June.If it is not too inconvenient, we would appreciate someone meeting us at the dock.I will be accompanied by my mother.
We are looking forward to meeting family, for we’ve so few relatives to call upon.
Your hopeful cousin,
Graham Beaumaris
Miles had studiedthe portraits at Shackerley Place.Would this man resemble his father?It would make it easier to identify him.He hoped the crest on the carriage would confirm his presence to meet them.
Approaching the gangway, he watched the hectic activity on deck.He’d arranged earlier to have his cousins’ luggage brought to his coach.The crews were moving trunks, supplies, and a variety of shipments, including livestock.The docks were always chaotic, but there was a system for debarking.The wealthier passengers would be first, followed by those in steerage.When the poorer passengers appeared, he quickly scanned the deck to see who was left.A slight young man with dark-blond hair, dressed in slightly outdated clothes, waved as he scanned the crowd.He had a similar countenance to the late heir, strongly resembling the portrait Miles had seen in the gallery at Shackerley Place.He assumed the dark-haired woman next to the duke was his mother, the marchioness.
With a sigh of relief, he waved back and caught his cousin’s gaze.The young man smiled, lighting up his face, and Miles liked him immediately.The mother and son made their way to the shore, Lady Greywood behind the duke.As they stepped onto solid ground, her lids fluttered, her face turning white.Miles stepped up and caught her as she fainted.
Scooping the woman up in his arms, he said over his shoulder, “Your Grace, it is good to meet you in person.”He nodded at the woman in his arms.“The sea does not agree with her?”
His cousin smiled, showing straight white teeth and a tiny dimple in his right cheek.“I’m afraid she’s been ill the entire voyage.I don’t think she’ll venture across the water again until some new mode of transportation is invented.”
“We have some brilliant scientists, but that may be quite a wait.”Miles nodded toward the coach.“Let’s get out of this throng.I have arranged for rooms at a nearby hotel with good brandy and a hot meal waiting.”
He gently laid the marchioness on the carriage bench.When she stirred, Lord Wickton patted her hand.“All will be well, my lady.We will get you something to eat and a bed to sleep in that doesn’t rock back and forth.You’ll be back to yourself in no time.”
The woman blinked, gasped, then searched for her son.“Where is… What happened?”
“Your son is behind me, and you fainted.I was able to catch you, so I’m happy to say no injuries occurred.”He took a flask from his pocket.“Would you like a drink?It’s strong but very smooth.”
“My s-son?”Lady Greywood looked over Miles’s shoulder.“Oh, my son,” she said, taking a healthy swallow before closing her eyes again.
Miles sat on the opposite bench, joined by his cousin.He gave the ceiling several loud knocks, and the carriage lurched forward.The new duke leaned toward his mother to steady her as she rolled perilously near the edge of the blue velvet-covered seat, then leaned his head back against the soft squabs.
“Thank you for meeting us, Miles,” he said, fatigue evident in his face.“It’s been quite an adventure so far.”
Miles was surprised at the use of his given name.However, being raised away from England, he assumed theton’sprotocol didn’t reign supreme in America.“It’s my pleasure, Your Grace.”
As the carriage rumbled through the streets of Liverpool, mixing with fine conveyances, hackneys, wagons, and carts, Miles studied his cousin.Smooth unblemished skin spoke of his youth.How old was he?Nineteen or twenty?He was slender and of medium height for a man, just a half head or so shorter than Miles.His dark-blonde hair had lighter streaks running through it, tied back and tucked into his cravat, longer than the London fashion.The duke would have much to learn before being presented to society.
“Please, call me Graham,” said his cousin with a smile.
