The Naked Duke. Sally MacKenzie
their heads. Strip us British peers of our titles and our shoulders twitch.”
Sarah looked at James out of the corner of her eye. “You aren’t one of those lords who’ve lost all their money, are you?”
“No, my estate is intact.” He raised an eyebrow in query. “Why would you think I was under the hatches?”
“You can’t afford a nightshirt.”
“A nightshirt?” He snorted. “I’m sure I have a dozen of the things. I just never wear them.”
“Why not? My father wore a nightshirt. Do Englishmen not do so?”
“I have no idea what Englishmen as a breed do or don’t do. I have not made a survey of it. Might I point out—not that I’m complaining, you understand—that you weren’t wearing a nightgown when I made your acquaintance.”
Sarah flushed. “That was only because my trunk had an accident in Liverpool—the sailors dumped it overboard when they were unloading. What you see before you are the only clothes I now own.”
They had arrived at a pretty little brook shaded by a stand of trees. James led her over to a fallen trunk. Sarah sat; he propped one booted foot on the log and leaned on his knee.
“Why don’t you tell me what happened last night,” James said. “How did you end up in my room?”
“I didn’t know it was your room!”
He smiled. “All right. Tell me how you ended up in that room, then.”
Sarah adjusted her skirt. “It’s really not so mysterious, but I grant you it shouldn’t have happened. I came in on the stage late last night with no maid and no luggage. The innkeeper did not approve of me. He was going to turn me away when your friend—my cousin—came by.”
She stared down at her feet. “I knew Robbie was drunk, but I was so tired I didn’t ask questions. I was desperate for a room with a bed.” She looked back up at James. “I’m not a good sailor. I didn’t sleep well on the passage to Liverpool. And since I haven’t much money, I took the mail to London and then the stagecoach here without stopping. Last night was the first time in two months that I slept in a bed that didn’t move.”
James smiled. “Poor girl. When I got to the room, I did try to wake you. When I didn’t have success right away, I figured you were exhausted and let you sleep.”
Sarah smiled back tentatively. “Does your aunt usually burst in on you like that?”
“No.” He shrugged. “She’s right, though. I usually am home. I didn’t tell her I’d be staying out.”
Sarah frowned. “It does seem a little extreme, panicking when you were only gone overnight. It’s not as if you are a little boy.”
James sighed. “No, but my aunt sometimes forgets that I’m not. She raised me after my mother died when I was eleven. Old habits die hard.”
“Yes, I can see that.” Sarah shifted on the log. There was no getting around it. She had to ask. “I need to know something.”
“Yes?” James grinned. “I hope it has nothing to do with nightshirts?”
“Well, not exactly.” She bit her lip. “Don’t laugh.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Your aunt said I was thoroughly compromised.”
“Yes, that’s very true. I think there is no question of that.”
“How thoroughly?”
James chuckled. “Very. I’m afraid you really must marry me.”
Sarah swallowed and gripped her hands together. “So I’m with child?”
“What!” James’s jaw dropped. Then his eyes lit up, and he slapped his hand over his mouth. His shoulders began to shake.
“You promised you wouldn’t laugh!”
He nodded vigorously.
“I know it’s silly that I don’t know these things, especially since my father was a physician, but I don’t. I mean, I have a vague idea. Look.” She listed her evidence. “We slept in the same bed, at night. We didn’t have any clothes on. You kissed me. Isn’t that enough?”
James shook his head no.
“So if I’m not pregnant, how can I be compromised, or at least, thoroughly compromised?” Sarah frowned. “Am I still a virgin?”
“You did not lose your virginity to me.”
“So if I’m not pregnant and I’m still a virgin, you don’t have to marry me, do you?”
James shifted his boot on the log. “It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?” Sarah crossed her arms over her chest. “Neither of us did anything wrong, so why should we be punished?”
“It’s not a matter of doing anything wrong, Sarah; it’s appearing to do something wrong.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“It may be ridiculous, but that’s the way the world—or at least this world—works. And I can’t believe society in Philadelphia is so different.”
“Well, I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t a part of Philadelphian society.” Sarah smiled. “And since I have no desire to be part of English society, my reputation or lack of it doesn’t matter, does it?”
James frowned. “What do you intend to do then, Sarah? From what you told Aunt Gladys, you’ve cut your ties to America.”
Sarah smoothed her skirt over her knees. “Well, yes. I can’t go back, that’s true. Even if I could find the passage money, I have nowhere to go there, not really.”
She thought about the Abington sisters. They would let her continue to drudge for them at the Abington Academy for Young Ladies. She grimaced. She certainly was not braving the Atlantic again for that.
“Frankly, I hadn’t considered much beyond just getting here. My father was so insistent that I come. I guess I had hoped the earl could help me. I don’t suppose Robbie is married, is he?”
“No.”
Sarah sighed. “Then there’s no hope there. I can’t live with him—even I know that. I will need a job. I have some experience as a teacher. Do you know of a school for girls that could use another instructor? Or a family in need of a governess? I’m better with classical studies than painting and music, but if the child were young enough, I’m sure I could cover those subjects adequately.”
James sat down next to her and took her hand. “Sarah, teachers need their reputations more than anyone. I can’t think any mother would entrust her daughter’s formation to a woman who had secrets in her past—and you now have a secret, a very big secret. You and I know what did—and didn’t—happen in that room, but try explaining that to someone who wasn’t there. A mother would never get by the words ‘bed’ and ‘naked’ and, frankly, ‘Duke of Alvord.’ No, love, if you are staying in England, you will have to consider your reputation. Would marriage to me really be a punishment?”
Sarah looked into his warm amber eyes with their long, thick lashes. Punishment? Surely he realized that he was every woman’s fantasy. She shrugged.
“How can I tell? I don’t know you. Maybe you’re an inveterate gambler or a wife-beater.”
“No to both charges.” James smiled. “Well, since I’ve never had a wife, I can’t refute your last accusation with complete certainty, but I’ve never physically hurt a woman in my life—and I definitely feel no desire to beat you.” He took her other hand and tugged gently. She turned to face him.
“Look, Sarah, this arrangement has positives for both of