A Duke By Any Other Name

Prologue

Lyme Regis, January 1806

“‘G riefs of my own lay heavy in my breast.’ ” Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet rolled off Lady Jane Kerridge’s tongue, sweetened by memories of the sailor she adored. “ ‘Love is a smoke raised with the fumes of sighs; being purged, a fire sparkling in lover’s eyes; being vexed a sea nourished with lovers’ tears. What is it else? A madness most discreet, a choking gall... and a preserving sweet.’ ”

She turned the page to another verse. “ ‘The precious treasure of his eyesight lost.’ ”

How would she bear it if her lover never returned from the sea?

“ ‘Not made, but bound more than a madman is; shut up in prison, kept without any food, whipped and tormented and—’ ” She skipped a line or two, drawn to the words that best described her attitude. “ ‘Ay, mine own fortune is my misery.’ ”

Icy fear twisted around her heart as she read on. “ ‘My only love, sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me that I must love a loathed enemy.’ ”

Marrying for love was her deepest desire. Impossible when pride and prejudice, and rank and resources shifted the natural order of things. How did one combat Society? A belief that a wife provided heirs leaving men free to explore their carnal pleasures elsewhere.

Jane closed the book and clutched it to her chest. She paced the length of the library to calm the gale wreaking havoc with her emotions then reopened it to read the valentine hidden within.

Dear is my ship unto my heart,

A vessel trim and tight,

No sooner with my ship I’d part,

Than you my soul’s delight;

By Neptune, lovely girl, I swear,

You’re all the world to me,

Give me some token for to wear,

When I am out to sea.

Before I leave this favored land

Dispel these doubts of mine

Give me the promise of your hand,

My lovely Valentine.

She set the poetry aside and read her response. “Dear is my sailor to my heart, a lad so neat and bright. Waft him breezes safely back, unto his heart’s delight. There to take the promise of my hand, my heart is truly thine. No other swain by sea or land shall have my Valentine.” With a sigh she lovingly closed the book. “There is only one man I aspire to marry.”

“Am I he?” The rich, deep timbre of Captain Gregory Marmaduke’s voice drifted through the leatherbound, beeswax-and-lemony space. “‘Th’ exchange of thy love’s faithful vow for mine.’”

Turning with excitement, she practically tripped over her skirts in surprise, all too aware that his presence, if discovered, would incur the wrath of both their fathers, though the two men were endlessly consumed by besting each another.

Love obliterated that fear when she gazed once more upon his handsome face.

“Pardon my interruption,” he said standing before her in all his splendor. “But I could not bear another moment without you.”

“I am honored, indeed.” She lowered the book and smiled, secretly happy that he held her in such high regard. “But you shouldn’t have come, Duke.”

Gregory wasn’t a duke in the real sense. He wasn’t even the son of a duke, an act of Fate which aggrieved Papa since he considered a “lowly” naval officer unworthy of his daughter. Inopportunely, Duke was the third son of an earl bestowed the nickname derived from his surname, Marmaduke. An inescapable irony. While he carried an “Honorable” title, her father’s nonsensical habit of discriminating against any man who worked for a living, enhanced his dislike for the earl and the man she longed to marry.

Defying her father was no easy matter, however. She admired and feared him, but she loved Duke more. “It isn’t safe for you here.”

“Circumnavigating danger is an addiction I have yet to tame, especially when it comes to you.”

“You must.” The hair on the back of her neck stood on end at the thought of losing him. “We have no other choice.”

Beyond the gallant blue-and-white uniform, shiny buttons, and yellow braid, was a good man who’d given his heart to her for safekeeping. Dare she break it? His shoulder length blond hair was tied neatly back in a queue, and his doting deep-brown eyes searched hers. He was daring, dutiful, and desirable, and she fancied him, refusing to be persuaded otherwise.

“If you are caught here with me, I fear the lengths to which my father will go to ensure you never see me again.”

“Don’t reproach me,” he said softly. “I could not leave without telling you goodbye.”

Her breath caught, his confession gnawing away at her confidence.

He took a step closer, and she to him, her body reacting to delightful images his nearness conjured—rendezvous on the cliffs; kisses shared in lush wooded orchards; and sensual interludes at old Colway House, once a royalist headquarters during the first English Civil War.

Secrets that must sustain her during his absence.

He’d been ordered back to Portsmouth. Vice-Admiral Lord Horatio Nelson’s rally cry England expects that every man will do his duty had revitalized the country after devastating news arrived announcing Nelson had made the ultimate sacrifice, dying at the Battle of Trafalgar. The immediacy of Duke’s mission frightened her, which had led her to revisit the story of the doomed lovers, her favorite of Shakespeare’s works—a fascination they both shared.

“You must believe me when I say there is no other place I’d rather be than with you.” He reached across the divide for the book and opened it, revealing the Valentine within. “‘Th’ exchange of thy love’s faithful vow for mine—’”

“‘I gave thee mine before thou didst request it,’” she said, quoting Romeo and Juliet from memory. Warmth swept over her as his depthless eyes inspected hers. “‘And yet I would it were to give again.’”

“‘Wouldst thou withdraw it?’” he asked exposing a hint of insecurity. “‘For what purpose, love?’”

“‘But to be frank and give it thee again.’” Her heart was full and she was determined to send Duke off to war without being peppered with anxiety. The sea was his mistress, England his calling. But where did she fit in? “‘And yet I wish but for the thing I have. My bounty is as boundless as the sea. My love as deep; the more I love thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.’”

He smiled that irresistible grin that always tugged at her belly. “The tide is about to go out.”

Enveloping her in his arms, he kissed her hungrily and she responded, desperate to hold onto him. When they finally parted, her mouth throbbed and, brazenly, she ached to prolong the spell he’d woven over her, desiring more kisses, more assurances that he’d return as full and hale as he’d always been.

“‘O blessed, blessed night.’ ”

Struck by the sadness suddenly etched into his face, she stroked his cheek with the back of her hand. “‘Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed.’ I lay my fortunes at thy feet and vow to follow thee throughout the world.”

“If only that could be true.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “Where I go, you cannot follow. It is safer for you to remain under your father’s care.”

Was it? Oh, how she both loathed and respected Duke’s maddening arrogance. He desired to save her from the hazards of the sea and the consequences of war, but the true danger threatened her within these four walls. While Duke sailed to the West Indies, her father intended to marry her off to someone else.

The battles they both faced were perilous. Would either of them survive?

“I am determined to win your father’s favor. And I vow to return all the richer for it.” He forced a smile, revealing he struggled to make promises Fate might break.

What if he didn’t come home?

A tormented scream threatened to tear from her throat as she clung to him. “I’m afraid.”

“You? Afraid? That isn’t possible? You are the most courageous creature I have ever known.”

How wrong he was, she thought, shaking her head. “I feel like I am losing a vital part of myself. I don’t know how I will endure this sadness.”

The intensity in their gazes increased, and though tears teased the backs of her eyes, she refused to allow him to see her cry. A man going off to war ought not to endure a woman’s hysterics.

He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, and then her mouth. “You know where my duty lies.”

She nodded sadly. “England.”

“Aye. Nevertheless, the kingdom is just a place. It will exist with or without us. You, however, own my heart and soul, Jane. I’ll come back. I promise. Even if I have to dig my way out of Hades to do it.”

“And should unseen forces prevent it?” She turned in his arms to hide the tear cascading down her cheek and the despair taking hold.

“Don’t be afraid.” He slipped his hands around her waist and nuzzled the nape of her neck. “I am invincible.”

Everyone believed Lord Nelson was invincible and yet, a sniper managed to kill him. Drawing in a long breath, she said, “‘Parting is such... sweet sorrow.’”

“But think on it. Our reunion will be glorious.” His calm assurances did little to soothe her fears. “So thrive my soul, there is nothing in this world that will ever keep me from you. Nothing.”

“Nor I you.”

“‘Then plainly know my heart’s dear love is set on the fair daughter of rich Capulet; as mine on hers, so hers is set on mine, and all combined, save what thou must combine by holy marriage. When, and where, and how we met, we wooed, and made exchange of vow, I’ll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray, that thou consent to marry me’ ...some day.”

“I will.” She turned in his arms, half agony, half hope. “I will wait for you as long as it takes, I swear.”

“Napoleon will surrender. We have hearts of oak and twice as many ships. He will fail.” He kissed her again, fusing her soul to his. “Wait for me.”

He left her embrace, his hand slipping slowly out of hers, and then, he was gone.

Jane touched her lips and trembled. Nothing stirred in the library but the mantel clock tick-tocking in the silence.

Even time mocked her pain. “Will I ever see you again?”