Page 3 of A Stroke of Luck (Intrepid Heroines #4)

Two

T he smell of the wood smoke wafting over the undulating dunes had a pungent peatiness to it.

Odd, but not unpleasant, thought Prestwick.

And the aroma of roasting meat added a decidedly welcome spice to it, seeing as he had not had a morsel to eat since the previous afternoon, when his chef had served up a stew redolent with succulent oysters and cream, along with tournedos of beef and …

Swallowing an oath, the duke gathered up another piece of driftwood.

The growling of his stomach gave loud enough voice to his own foul mood.

Of all the cursed luck! Things could be worse, he admitted.

But not much. He and his valet might be feeding the flounder at present if not for the intervention of Fate in the form of a feisty young lady.

But in some ways, he felt as if he merely jumped out of the proverbial frying pan and into the fire.

After all, here he was, stuck with a hot-tempered harridan in the middle of nowhere. No decorated Adam ceiling over his head, no cosseting servants to fix a steaming bath, no plump eiderdown quilts warming his toes, no soft linen sheets drawn up to his chin.

No wonder he felt like swearing!

It was all her fault. He was, as a rule, much too much of a gentleman to resort to vulgar language, yet in the past few hours he had uttered more expletives than he had in the last decade.

Hell and damnation! It was telling testimony to just how badly his usual placid temperament had been stirred. Talk about waves?—

“You all right, sir?” Stump paused in tucking a scrap of old planking under his arm to fix his employer with a look of concern. “That lump on your skull looks right nasty. Is it bringing on a headache?”

“An incipient headache is the least of our troubles,” he snapped.

“I know, sir. And I’m heartily sorry.” The valet ducked down to reach for another piece of flotsam, but not before Prestwick saw the look of remorse etched on the other man’s face.

“A fine kettle of fish it has come to, when a duke has to look after his servant, rather than the other way around. I should have been discharged long ago, seeing as I ain’t fit to perform the simplest duties?—”

“Do stop apologizing, Stump,” he said quietly.

“I will be the one to decide when I no longer have need of your services. Unless, of course, you have grown weary of playing nursemaid to a quiet, cowardly fellow like me, who finds his pleasure in music, literature and the arts rather any more manly pursuits.”

The valet gave an aggrieved snort. “Ha! You have plenty of pluck and backbone to go along with your cultivated learning, sir, though you seek to keep it hidden under all them fancy togs.”

Prestwick’s jaw tightened, but Stump chose to ignore the subtle warning and continued on.

“I suppose it was cowardly instinct that prompted you to plunge into a raging sea to haul out a clumsy old fool.”

“No, it was pure self-interest. I told you, I enjoy my morning coffee much too much to risk the loss of its recipe.”

A grudging bark of laugh sounded, then quickly faded into a sigh. “In all seriousness sir, maybe it is time for me to step aside and let a real valet take my place. One who can tie a proper cravat and manage the buttons of a waistcoat.”

“I am not quite so helpless that I cannot dress myself.” The duke paused to give a shake of his sodden boot, trying to dislodge a pebble from between his toes.

“However, the idea that I have been sent off by some flaming female to forage for firewood …” The rest of his words trailed off in an inarticulate grumble.

“An unusual young lady. Got a bit of spark to her, unlike them London lasses.”

“Spark? The chit could light up the skies over Vauxhall Gardens with her display of pyrotechnics!”

“Nothing wrong with a little show of spirit,” murmured Stump. “Rather than appear no more animated than a marble statue.”

In his present state of mind, Prestwick found the words rubbed as raw against his skin as the chip of granite.

“If that thinly veiled show of sarcasm was in reference to the Marquess of Ellesmore’s daughter, kindly keep such snide opinions to yourself.

Lady Catherine is considered by the ton to be a paragon of perfection.

Not only is she a Diamond of the First Water, but her manners are impeccable and her behavior is beyond reproach. ”

“Aye, she is polished so perfectly all you can see is your own reflection. Trouble is, in havin’ any rough edges buffed off, she’s lost any bit o’ real character. Might as well be carved from a block of stone.”

“Stump—”

“Well, it’s true! Has the lady ever expressed an opinion of her own, or disagreed with a word you have said, or laughed as if she truly meant it?”

“ Hmmph . I should certainly hope not!” retorted Prestwick. “A well-bred female does not give rein to unbridled thoughts or serendipitous feelings. She defers to a gentleman’s judgment, as is proper.”

The duke was aware that he was beginning to sound rather shrill, which only irritated him further.

How dare his companion imply that the lady in question possessed the slightest flaw?

The accusation, however oblique, was confoundedly unfair, and a righteous indignation ratcheted his tone up another notch.

“Lady Ellesmore is all that is amiable and adorable. In contrast to our Admiral of the Amazons, who is a hot-tempered shrew.” After a moment’s pause, he frowned and added, “Not only that, there is something decidedly smoky about her. No proper young lady should be sailing about the high seas with naught but two lads for company.”

“Well, smoky or not, she certainly pulled our irons out of the fire last night. Not to speak of getting us all ashore safely.” Unintimidated by his employer’s obvious ire, Stump showed no sign of retreating as he limped over to another bit of wood lying upon the sand.

“She may have a fiery temper, but she sure as hell kept a cool head when faced with disaster. I imagine it was no easy feat maneuvering a sinking ship through those shoals. And if I am not mistaken, amid all the confusion, she has somehow managed to salvage the supplies and get breakfast cooking. So let us do our part by gathering up the last bits of this driftwood and making our way back without delay.”

“ Hmmph .” The duke added one more stick to his load. “Yes, I guess we had best hurry. I haven’t informed her that I prefer my eggs shirred and not scrambled.”

The valet’s shaggy brows lifted slightly but he refrained from comment.

“Let us hope also she can brew a decent cup of coffee,” continued Prestwick. “I don’t suppose there will be Seville marmalade for my toast, but perhaps a bit of quince preserves wouldn’t be too much to ask.”

“Er, sir …”

“ Ouch !” With a pained grimace, Prestwick began hopping up and down on one foot. “I’ve a blasted pebble in my boot!” A glance down at the offending footwear turned his expression even blacker. “Or what used to be my boot. These were a pair of Hoby’s finest and look at them now!”

“Quite ruined,” agreed his valet. “Shall I help you pull them off? We could always add them to the cooking pot. Considering that they are made of the softest calfskin known to man, I’m sure they would boil up quite nicely by suppertime.”

“That is not funny, Stump,” muttered the duke as he started to hobble for the nearby dunes.

“No, sir. I was not making light of the loss of your favorite Hessians. I was just trying to point out that as we are in the middle of nowhere, it is unlikely that your breakfast will be served up with quite the same amenities as it would be in Grosvenor Square.”

Prestwick paused to survey the deserted stretch of shoreline and the seemingly endless undulation of tall machrie grasses.

His dignity in shreds, along with the sleeve of his expensive pleated-front linen shirt, he knew he was acting worse than a sulky schoolboy with his querulous complaints, a fact that did nothing to chase the mulish expression from his face.

“The deuce take it, there must be some outpost of civilization in this cursed place. It is not as if we have washed up upon the moon.”

“No, sir,” repeated Stump. There followed a slight clearing of the throat. “But it may be a goodly hike to the nearest place of habitation.”

“I will crawl on my hands and knees if I have to,” he answered through gritted teeth.

“And then, no matter whether I must cough up a king’s ransom in gold, I mean to procure a clean, dry set of clothes, a decent meal, and a comfortable conveyance so that the two of us may be on our way as soon as is humanly possible.

The less time we must spend in the company of that harridan, the better. ”

“As there appears to be a cloud of steam risin’ up from your togs, they may be dry before you know it.” His valet eyed him with a curious stare. “She really has you hot under the collar. Never seen you quite like this before, allowin’ your emotions to boil over.”

“Forgive me for the ungentlemanly display of?—”

“No, no, it weren’t meant as a criticism.” An odd twitch played on Stump’s lips. “On the contrary, it might do you a bit a good to let a bit of fire flare up once in a while.”

Prestwick blinked. “What the devil do you mean?”

“Well, since you are askin’, I sometimes think you spend too much time locked away in that cozy study of yours, surrounded by all them deep books, fancy paintings, and tasteful music.”

“You think there is something wrong with a gentleman who enjoys the arts?”

“Oh hell, no. You know that’s not what I meant. It’s just that, well, perhaps once in a while you shouldn’t be afraid to loosen your cravat and get your hands a bit dirty.

The duke felt his spine go very rigid. “As I am accorded to be one of the arbiters of fashion in Town, it would hardly be appropriate,” he drawled, trying to mask his shock with a posture of sardonic detachment.