The Naked Duke. Sally MacKenzie
will not. That would be terribly inappropriate.”
“I don’t see why. He has piles of money.”
“It’s just not done, not in the United States or in England.”
“But you need new clothes,” Lizzie said reasonably. “Someone will have to pay for them.”
“Well, it won’t be your brother! He is not related to me.”
Lizzie grinned. “But Robbie is! He can foot the bill.”
The servants arrived then with the tub and water.
“I’ll be back when you’re done with your bath,” Lizzie said, slipping out the door after the footmen.
Sarah looked at the closed door. Then she sighed, shed the despised dress, and climbed into the tub. She sank into the warm water and closed her eyes.
What was she going to do about her clothing? Lizzie was right—she would need some new things. It did not seem right to burden Robbie with the expense. He certainly hadn’t asked her to show up almost on his doorstep. And she certainly could not let James buy them for her. The thought was shocking—and strangely seductive. A man bought clothes for his wife, but she could never be his wife. If she had entertained that possibility even for a moment, she was forced to discard it now. She did not know the first thing about managing a place the size of Alvord. Making her mistress here would be ludicrous, as ridiculous as putting the butcher’s boy in President Madison’s office. It just could not be done.
She rested her head against the back of the tub. Had her father known such wealth? He had been the son of an earl, after all. Yet he had given no sign of having been raised in privilege.
Of course, he had never been terribly interested in things. Ideas, theories, arguments—those were what he coveted. Even people held little interest for him. The first time she could remember her father showing any real concern for her was when he had insisted she come to England. She certainly had never felt from him the warmth that was evident between James and his sister or James and his aunt.
She sighed. She would love to be part of a family like James’s. He had offered her that if she married him. Did he know how tempting that was?
She grabbed the soap and scrubbed her arms. A tempting illusion. James did not love her. He was a British duke. He didn’t need a wife, he needed a brood mare. A marriage with him would make a family in name only.
She would get a job. She would be fine. She didn’t need much. She did not need any broad, strong shoulders in her life. She shook her head to get the picture of those shoulders out of her mind. The Duke of Alvord must be a rake of the worst sort. A thoughtless heartbreaker. After all, she had found him naked in her bed, hadn’t she? No, she was definitely better off by herself.
She didn’t need to wash her face. For some stupid reason, it was already wet.
Chapter 4
Sarah hung back to let Lizzie enter the drawing room first. Her heart was beating so fast she feared it might leap out of the low neck of her beautiful dress.
She had been struck dumb when she had looked at herself in the mirror upstairs. The woman looking back at her was a stranger. The green dress made her eyes glow. Betty had tamed her hair so that only a few tendrils drifted gracefully around her face. Rather more of her neck and chest was exposed than she was used to, but Lizzie and Betty had both insisted that such was the fashion. Upstairs in her room, Sarah had felt elegant. Now she felt awkward.
“Come on, Sarah. You can’t stay out in the hall all evening.” Lizzie grabbed her arm and pulled her into the room. “James, I’ve given Sarah one of my dresses. I think it looks quite good, don’t you?”
Sarah thought she might expire on the spot. James’s eyes traveled carefully over her dress. She grabbed her skirt to keep her hands from flashing up to cover her bodice. He spent an inordinate amount of time studying that aspect of her attire.
“Beautiful,” he said, looking directly into Sarah’s eyes and smiling. She smiled back, feeling an odd mixture of relief and tension.
In deference to her limited wardrobe, James had not dressed for dinner. Of course, Sarah thought as she accepted a glass of sherry, the Duke of Alvord could be dressed in rags and still be imposing. Or dressed in nothing. She blushed and glanced at him. The corner of his mouth turned up and his eyes acquired a distinctly knowing gleam.
This will never do, Sarah chastised herself. She raised her chin and willed her voice to remain cool. “You have a beautiful home, your grace.”
“Thank you. Did Lady Amanda give you the history lesson when you arrived?”
Lady Amanda sniffed. “Gladys was the one who mentioned that the first Duke of Alvord fought with the Conqueror. She may have neglected to point out, however, that it was his distinguished service at the Battle of Hastings that earned him the duchy.”
“No one distinguishes himself in battle, Lady Amanda.” James said, a new, harsh note in his voice. “War is an ugly, messy business. I’m certain my illustrious ancestor caused untold suffering to the poor wretches he evicted from these lands.”
Lady Amanda frowned. “If I remember correctly, it was not so very long ago that you were anxious to go to war.”
“I know better now.” James took a large swallow of his sherry.
“But don’t you agree that sometimes war is warranted, your grace? To free people from oppression, for example?” Sarah could remember her father and his cronies holding forth about that for hours.
“Yes, surely you can justify curbing that monster Napoleon,” Lady Amanda said.
“I rather think Sarah was referring to the American War of Independence and perhaps our latest contretemps with our former colonies,” James replied. “And yes, I suppose some wars are necessary. But war is rarely a simple matter. Political firebrands like to have a clear rallying cry, but most wars include a lot of simple greed, personal and political. It’s hard to justify any of that when you watch an 18-year-old boy die in your arms or find a sobbing child alone in the wreckage of her village.”
Layton then appeared at the doorway to announce Robbie and Charles.
James smiled, dispelling the bleakness that had tightened his face. “Gentlemen, I was beginning to wonder if you had turned craven.” He moved forward to greet the men, bringing Sarah with him.
“I do think Robbie was tempted, James,” Major Draysmith said. “Good evening, Miss Hamilton.”
“Good evening, Major.”
Major Draysmith crossed the room to speak to the other ladies while Robbie took Sarah’s hand.
“Cousin.” He looked distinctly wary.
“Cousin,” Sarah returned tonelessly.
A dark flush covered his cheeks. “My humble apologies about the confusion last night,” he murmured. “I was drunk, don’t you know. Half-seas over. Never would have made the mistake had I been sober.”
“Perhaps you should limit your drinking.”
“Uh, right.” Robbie looked over at James. “My apologies to you, too, of course.”
“We met the lady you were waiting for,” James said. “She doesn’t look at all like Sarah.”
“No, of course not. Didn’t think she would. I said I wouldn’t have made the mistake if I’d been sober. Nan set the thing up. Said her friend wanted to get established in the business. Uh, where did you happen to meet her?”
“In the inn yard,” James said. “Apparently she encountered Richard first and decided to take the sure thing. She was regretting her decision. He had blackened her eye.”
“Damn. Come to think of it, when I saw him in the common room,