Page 95 of My One and Only Duke
“Probably getting drunk and flirting with the tavern maids, as is their right when they are not at work.” Himself passed through the gate at the foot of the garden and pulled it shut behind him.
Ned clambered over. “You can’t be running around London by yourself. Miss Jane said. Somebody put your neck in a bloody noose, and we have to keep you safe.”
His Grace of Doom stopped in the middle of the cobbled alley. Ned had never seen such a cold expression on a man’s face, and he counted many a hardened criminal among his acquaintances.
“Ned, I applaud your loyalty, but your insubordination will cost you your post if you don’t desist.”
“You’d sack me?” Ned’s voice had cracked, so great was his consternation.
The duke slapped his gloves against his thigh, looked up and down the alley, then turned his glower back on Ned.
“I will turn you off without a character if you don’t remain here as directed.”
Which only confirmed that Miss Jane had been right: Himself wasn’t used to having people look after him. Neither was Ned. Miss Jane had explained that Ned would have to adjust. Adjusting was hard, so Ned didn’t haul off and smack his employer in the stones despite the temptation.
“We were in jail together, and you’d give me the boot?”
That cold gaze grew frigid. “Without a character. Tossed out on your ear, finished, sacked.”
Ned had never had a character and wasn’t exactly sure what one was. He did know that for the duke to march off across Town on foot, without grooms, without Miss Jane, was bloody stupid.
“Then I’ll be Ned Sacked.”
Had Ned not been returning glower for glower, he would have missed the gleam of humor that crossed the duke’s features. Miss Jane had said His Grace was full of bluster. Ned hadn’t wanted to test the theory.
In the next instant, he was scooped up and deposited on the ladies’ mounting block.
“You,” the duke said, jabbing a finger at Ned, “are Ned Wentworth. If you’d like a middle name, I can suggest Pestilential, Pigheaded, or Plaguey. Ponder your choice while I return to the bank, by myself, along a route I have traveled in safety for years. Any word to the rest of the staff of this altercation will earn you a severe dressing down, Ned. I mean it.”
Whatever an altercation was. “You’re giving me your name? The name of your own family?”
The duke pulled on black leather gloves. “See that you never dishonor it. Now get back in the house.”
He stalked off down the alley, while Ned’s throat went tight, and his breathing hitched.
“Ned Wentworth. I like it.” He took another breath. “Edward Wentworth. Mister Edward Wentworth.”
He wiped his eyes on his sleeve—the coal dust in London was awful—and began sorting through middle names. Himself was named Quinton.
“Edward Quinton Wentworth.” That didn’t feel quite right.
Something else wasn’t quite right. If the duke was walking back to the bank using the route he’d followed safely “for years,” he should have turned at the intersection of the next alley. He kept going straight, away from the bank. For half a minute, Ned debated what a loyal, insubordinate, pestilential Wentworth should do.
Then he hopped off the wall and started after the duke.
* * *
Jane dreamed of Quinn as she’d first known him, confined to a gentleman’s cage in Newgate, coatless, serving her gingerbread, and offering her a miracle. She reached across the bed thinking that now, finally, was a moment when she could raise the topic of Papa’s ridiculous notions regarding Gordie’s will, but her hand encountered only cool sheets.
She opened her eyes and found herself alone.
“That dratted bank.” She’d wanted to dance a jig at the idea of Quinn cutting ties with the day-to-day operation of the bank. At least five ducal estates needed his attention, and he’d enjoy putting them to rights.
He might also enjoy setting the buffoons in the Lords on their ears, though Jane hoped to make some progress socializing with those buffoons before her confinement began.
She rang for Susan to assist her with her hooks, pinned up her braid, and opened the copy of Debrett’s she’d been studying for the past several days. Polite society was closely interconnected, and surely a ducal family could claim a few distant relatives among those assembling for the season?
“Will you need anything else, ma’am?” Susan asked.
