Page 3 of The Duke’s Guide to Fake Courtship (Daring Debutantes #1)

G race had been enjoying the freedom up in the sails too much to pay attention to the men’s conversation. She knew she’d be summoned eventually. Lord Domac was always planning something, and this morning would be no different. But she knew her father looked favourably on the man, so she did her best to treat him generously. Plus, the gentleman had given her cab money for this early-morning trip to the boat, where she could once again run free amid the sails and her sister could hide below deck with the accounts.

She hoped the girl had stayed hidden from the men. It wasn’t appropriate for a lady to be seen doing accounts. It wasn’t appropriate for Grace to be running around the sails, but she and her sister did what was needed when they felt too confined.

Stays and etiquette lessons had their place. This morning had been about breathing freely one last time before the Season began.

But when Lord Domac had called she’d done her best to make an entrance. Cedric loved it when she acted like an acrobat in the sails, so she’d performed a backflip to the deck before doing her dramatic reveal as a woman.

In truth, she relished the slack-jawed shock on the taller man’s face. Men always underestimated her, and it was fun to see them surprised.

Though now that she was looking at the new gentleman’s face, she had to admit that he hadn’t reacted with as much shock as most men. Many grew furious at her reveal, so she tensed to run, but his movements were restrained. His brows rose, his mouth pressed tight. Rather than focus his anger on her, his glare skipped straight over her to land on Lord Domac.

Then it was gone. Two seconds later, he turned back to her with a warm smile and dipped his head in a formal greeting.

‘A pleasure to meet you, Miss Richards. I am the Duke of Byrning, as my addled cousin neglected to say.’

‘Stop being a prick,’ Lord Domac groused. ‘We’re on board. We don’t stand on ceremony here.’

The Duke arched his brows. ‘Every woman deserves courtesy.’

That was a surprising attitude, and Grace pinkened in delight at his words, especially as he looked so steadily into her eyes. Normally men’s gazes roved across her breasts or hips, looking for proof of her sex.

‘My cousin is a stuffed popinjay,’ Lord Domac said. ‘He doesn’t realise you prefer easy manners.’

Did she? She’d never met anyone who had used full manners with her. She’d seen from a distance as men bowed and demurred to other women, but never, ever had a man addressed her as if she deserved the full measure of his courtly manners. Not even Domac.

But this man did. He stood there in his gentleman’s attire and gave her every courtesy. Even his bare feet didn’t take away from the heavy impact of his regard. And so she gave him her best response.

‘I am honoured to meet you, Your Grace.’

She curtsied as she’d been taught, though it probably looked ridiculous given that she wore a boy’s clothing. Then she launched into the polite discourse her father had insisted she learn. First a comment on the weather, and then a question about the gentleman’s interest.

‘It’s a sad wind today, I think. The boats are stuck without a breeze to lift their skirts. Have you an interest in sailing?’

Lord Domac grinned at her. ‘You mean a breeze to lift their sails. Lifting skirts is something else entirely.’

Was he poking fun at her? He was the one who had taught her the phrase. ‘Sails. My apology.’

Domac chuckled. ‘Grace has learned most of her English from sailors and the like, but her father and I are teaching her how to go on.’

The Duke didn’t even look at his cousin. Instead, he lifted his gaze to the slack sails. ‘I know a little about boats and skirts, and the sails are definitely flat today. I am afraid my cousin has told me nothing about you. Were you born and raised in Canton?’

‘I was.’

She could not be from anywhere else. Whites were only allowed in a small area of Canton. And half-whites, like herself, were lucky to be alive at all. Most were drowned at birth.

‘Do you have much knowledge of China?’

Her father had told her that most would not know anything about her country. Indeed, they would not be able to find it on a map.

‘More than most Englishmen,’ he said, ‘but nothing from someone who has lived there. I would love to learn more.’

She might have answered, but Lord Domac raised his hand to stop her. ‘There is time enough to answer those questions at tea this afternoon. Grace has lived an extremely interesting life.’

The Duke’s eyes narrowed, as if he was annoyed, but he didn’t turn that rancour on Grace. Instead, he smiled at her. ‘I look forward to learning all about it. Are you here for the Season, then? To find a husband?’

She was here because her only options in China were to become a nun or a prostitute. Lord Wenshire had offered her another option, and she’d grabbed it with both hands. But she couldn’t say that now. Instead, she gestured towards London.

‘My father wished me to see his homeland, and so I have indulged him.’

‘You mean you have obeyed him,’ Lord Domac corrected. ‘As every good daughter does.’

She knew the difference between the two words and she had used the correct one. She had wanted to go to Africa, where she would be seen as foreign, but not a half-blood. In China, she was routinely cursed for her mixed blood. It would likely be the same here in England, since she was half English, half Chinese, but she had bowed to her father’s wishes.

Rather than argue with Lord Domac, she continued to speak, working hard to act properly. ‘My father came into my life only recently. He found me at a temple that is known to care for half-Chinese children. He claimed me as his own and offered to take me to England.’

‘Extraordinary! And you went with him? Alone? Without even speaking English?’

‘But she wasn’t alone!’ Lord Domac inserted. ‘She has brought her sister along as well, and Lucy already knew English.’

Lucy had known some English, but it didn’t matter. Neither of them had had a better option.

‘Lucy isn’t my sister through blood, but we were raised together. I couldn’t imagine leaving China without her, so my father claimed us both.’

The Duke nodded slowly. ‘Lord Wenshire is extremely generous.’

‘Yes, he is,’ she said, irritation making her voice hard.

Her father was indeed a generous man. The kind of person she couldn’t believe truly existed, but months in his presence had shown her that he wanted the best for her and her sister. And it infuriated her whenever someone suggested otherwise.

He must have heard her tone because the Duke quickly dipped his head in apology. ‘I meant no offence. Truly, I am simply impressed.’

She nodded, softening her own tone. ‘I didn’t believe it at first either,’ she confessed. ‘But he convinced me.’

The Duke’s brows rose. ‘I am desperate to hear more.’

‘Which will happen at tea,’ Lord Domac interrupted. He was always restless. ‘Suffice it to say that Miss Richards is looking forward to an eventful Season.’

‘Definitely,’ she agreed.

Musicales, balls, and the theatre pulled at her curiosity. The way her father described them made her yearn to experience them. He made the Season sound like weeks spent in delight.

‘Yes. Tea,’ the Duke said, his voice dry as he shot a hard look at his cousin.

She had no idea what it meant, and no time to understand as he focused back on her.

‘Do you attend with your father?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said in full honesty. ‘He does not often share his plans with me.’

Or his plans for her. He assumed that because she was new to English society, she had no idea how to manage herself. But she’d worked as a navigator on board a merchant ship for years. To think that she could not understand the niceties of appearing on time and dressing appropriately for this tea ceremony was an insult to her intelligence. But he was her parent, and she was here at his mercy. She would strive to hold back her temper.

‘And does he know that you are here aboard ship this morning?’ the Duke asked.

Although the man’s tone was polite, Grace was accustomed to reading nuances in expression and tone. She read an implied criticism in the tightness of his face.

‘Of course he does,’ she said. ‘I am on a morning outing with Lord Domac. My maid and my sister are below deck.’ She straightened as his expression turned dark. ‘I am completely safe here, and it is not your place to question my father’s actions.’

Or her own.

It was a harsh response, but she’d learned young that men would take whatever authority over a woman they could. They might say they were protecting her, but it was merely a cover for their need to be in power. She had learned to strike back ruthlessly when a man sought to dictate to her, even in so small a thing as a dark look.

The Duke flushed, and his brows rose in an imperious expression equal to the haughtiest mandarin in China. ‘I look to your reputation , Miss Richards. I do not blame you . I fear my cousin has been too lax with your safety.’

Her reputation was as a great navigator. If she weren’t a woman, she’d have her choice of ships. Instead, she’d been run off the docks the moment she’d developed a woman’s body and could no longer hide. So she’d gone back to the temple where she’d been raised, and that was where her father had found her. But she supposed the Duke referred to her English reputation.

Meanwhile, Lord Domac had focused on a different aspect of the conversation. ‘You have brought Lucy here?’

‘Yes. She needed the outing as much as I did.’

Lord Domac made a sound that she could not decipher. Half grunt, half amused chuckle. Then he rocked back on his heels and grinned. ‘I believe we’re done here. Grace, please fetch your sister and your maid. I have a carriage nearby and will take you back to your father’s house so you can get ready for tea.’

She frowned. ‘Tea isn’t until four.’

Just how much time did he think it took to change her clothing?

‘But you have lessons, do you not? Dancing, deportment.’ He looked at the Duke. ‘She’s even learning a smattering of French.’

He sounded as if he was showing off a prize dog. ‘We should trade phrases, Lord Domac. I will match my French to your Chinese.’

‘But why would I need to learn Chinese when you are here?’ he asked.

She could think of a thousand reasons why knowing a language was better than having an interpreter, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she looked back at the sails. This was the first time she’d been able to breathe free since coming to London three weeks ago. She didn’t want to rush back to corsets and dance lessons.

‘There are a few more things I’d like to check in the riggings,’ she lied. ‘Can we wait a bit longer?’

Lord Domac groaned. ‘There’s nothing of interest up there.’

‘Perhaps I could be of assistance,’ the other man said. ‘I would be happy to wait here until you are ready to leave. It will be entirely proper if your maid stays alongside.’ He smiled as he looked at her. ‘And I should enjoy getting to know you better.’

She was tempted. There was gentleness in his smile, despite his criticisms, and he was quick to apologise when he overstepped. That was something even Lord Domac never did. But she knew too little of Englishmen to trust her judgement regarding them. She knew her father approved of Lord Domac, so why would she risk alienating him in favour of this other, more interesting man?

Because she was always drawn to the new, the different, and the generally intriguing. She’d survived by being bold, and she liked this handsome man.

She gestured to his bare feet. ‘Have you ever climbed up to a crow’s nest?’

‘Never,’ he said as he tilted his head all the way back.

‘It’s a long climb and a fall would be deadly,’ she said. ‘But the view is the loveliest in London.’

His brows rose. No doubt he heard the challenge in her voice. ‘How can I resist an invitation like that?’

He couldn’t. No man could.

‘I’ll have to tie a rope about your chest. I will not be the cause of your mother’s tears.’

He agreed with a nod and a grin. ‘I put myself in your hands.’

Another surprise. Most men dismissed the need for a rope, their pride getting in the way of common sense. Clearly, this man was not a fool, and she respected him all the more for it.

Not so Lord Domac, who hooted his disdain.

‘She’ll have you trussed up like a Christmas goose. I’ve seen her do it before.’ Then he punched his cousin in the shoulder. ‘There’s no wind today. The rigging’s safer than your mother’s stairway.’

That wasn’t at all true. Climbing ropes was still difficult if one wasn’t used to it. And although this man looked fit, climbing was not a usual exercise for gentlemen.

Apparently he knew that, because he looked her in the eye. ‘Do you tie me up as a joke? Or because it is necessary?’

‘Necessary,’ she answered honestly. Then she cast a look at Lord Domac. ‘But I trussed him up like a fish in a net because it was fun.’

Lord Domac had joined their ship when they took port in India for the route back to England and had very quickly got bored. He had wanted to learn, and she had been happy to teach, but since her command of English had been weak, she had been forced to demonstrate rather than explain. That had involved wrapping ropes around him as they moved about the sails, especially at sea.

The Duke grinned as he shed his topcoat. ‘Do as you see fit.’

‘You won’t get halfway,’ his cousin taunted.

‘How far did you get?’

‘All the way up.’

Truth. But it had taken him several tries, and she’d had to wrap him until the ropes had practically carried him the whole way. She wasn’t willing to do that again, just to salvage a man’s pride. So while the Duke stepped over to the mainmast, she picked up a rope to steady him.

‘This won’t stop a fall on its own,’ she warned. ‘It’s not a net. But it will slow your drop enough that you can catch hold yourself.’

He nodded as if he understood. She knew he didn’t, but she liked the sparkle in his eyes. He was excited and, better yet, he was studying the ascent as he might a mathematical problem. She tied him in as best she could, and then secured the other end about her waist. If he fell badly, she would too, and then they would both die. But she’d done this several times before with other men. It was the only way to get new men up top. They couldn’t let a woman get the best of them, so they went on when all reason told them to go down.

‘Step where I step,’ she said, ‘and we’ll both be fine.’ Then she paused to raise her brows at Lord Domac. ‘My sister is in the captain’s quarters, looking at the accounts, if you’d like to speak with her. I’m sure she would enjoy seeing you.’

An understatement. For whatever reason, her sister had developed a keen interest in Lord Domac. If their father hadn’t declared that Grace must marry first, Lucy—renamed from Lu-Jing—might very well be the one being shoved into stays and forced into tea ceremonies.

Lord Domac’s eyes narrowed. ‘She’s below deck with the captain? Alone ?’

‘With our maid. We have made sure of the proprieties.’

He grunted—another one of those indecipherable sounds—then headed immediately below deck. That left her alone with the Duke.

‘Are you ready?’

‘I am.’

‘Then so am I.’

She began to climb the ratline, which was another word for the rope ladder. Without question, this was one of her biggest joys. The climb to new heights, the kiss of clean air, and the sheer physical exertion that kept her blood surging. She loved it, and apparently the Duke had no problems with it either. At least for the lowest sails.

His breath became laboured after that, and she pulled him to the platform at the top of the upper main to rest. He landed with an exhalation of breath and an eager look around.

‘No need to stop,’ he said. ‘I can keep going.’

‘That’s not what the captain is saying.’

‘What?’

She gestured down towards the deck, where the captain was now standing at the base of the mizzenmast.

‘That be far enough!’ he bellowed. ‘Bring ’im down.’

The Duke tilted his head, clearly listening, but then he looked back up. ‘I don’t hear anything, and you promised me the best view in London. You’re not backing out on a promise, are you?’

‘Never,’ she said with a grin. ‘But look down again. It’s a fair way—’

‘I know. I saw.’ He grabbed hold of the next ratline. ‘Are you too tired to climb up?’

He meant it. He wanted to climb. So she shrugged and scrambled up the next set of ropes. He laboured behind her, his breath steady, so she knew he wasn’t afraid. At least not yet. As long as she didn’t hear the short, tight breath of panic, she would keep going.

There were seven sails on the mainmast, and he scrambled up six of them without hesitation. She’d gone slower than usual for her, making sure to wrap an arm around each rung in the ladder in case he missed his step and she had to support his weight. He never failed, and for that she was pleased. Clearly this was a man used to physical exercise.

By the top of the sixth sail—the main royal—she forced them both to stop on the platform. Even without a strong breeze, the wobble of the ship made it a dipping and swaying plank of wood. Many sailors had lost a meal from this height. Lord Domac had lost his dinner two sails below.

‘How do you feel?’ she asked. ‘Do you get seasick?’

‘No,’ he said as he looked all around him. ‘There’s wind here. I can’t imagine what it’s like in a storm.’

‘Terrifying,’ she said with a grin. The height was dizzying, and the mainmast never felt as solid as it did on deck.

He looked at her with an assessing gaze. ‘You’ve done it, haven’t you? I can’t imagine.’

He was speaking honestly, so she honoured him by giving him the truth in return. ‘A ship in a storm is frightening wherever you are. Up there...’ she pointed to the crow’s nest ‘...I was able to do some good.’

He narrowed his eyes at the barrel that sat atop another thin platform, still a sail’s height above them. ‘Doing what?’

‘Watching for land. We were off course and needed some place to shelter.’ She shrugged. ‘I have good eyes.’

‘And nerves of steel,’ he returned. Then he proved that he also had a full measure of nerve by looking down without blanching. ‘Have you seen people fall?’

‘Yes.’

He looked up at her clipped word. ‘I’m sorry.’

She wouldn’t have thought that two words would ease her memories. She still had nightmares. But his sympathy was genuine, and she took comfort from it.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

He gave her a firm nod, then looked back up to the crow’s nest. ‘Can it fit two of us?’

‘It will be tight,’ she answered. Then she touched his arm. ‘You have come further than your cousin on his first trip. There is no shame—’

‘I want to go up.’

And to prove it, he began to climb even before she did.

She watched him go, her hold on the ropes as firm as she could make it. It was actually more dangerous for him to be above her. The added height would make it that much harder for her to stay on the ratline if he fell.

He didn’t.

He made it to the crow’s nest while she admired the strength of his body and the pure grace in the way he moved. He wasn’t a sailor, so he didn’t have the flexibility of one. But he was strong, and sure, and never once did his breath shorten with panic. She couldn’t even claim that for herself. The first time she’d climbed the ratlines her teeth had chattered from her terror.

He was even with the barrel-shaped crow’s nest, and then climbed high enough to swing his feet into the barrel.

‘Don’t jump down hard,’ she warned. ‘The flooring isn’t as strong as you think.’

He paused before jumping, looking down at her with wide eyes. ‘I cannot tell if that’s truth or jest.’

‘Both,’ she said with a wink. ‘You’re a big man who shouldn’t be stomping around up there, but it will hold you.’

He didn’t wait any longer before he jumped—lightly—into the nest. And she noted that, while he looked at the view with an awe-struck expression, he kept one hand on the rope and another on the mainmast.

She grinned as she scrambled up, but she’d underestimated his size. There was precious little room for her in the crow’s nest, so she loitered above on the ropes.

‘This is amazing,’ he breathed as he looked all around. Then he glanced back at her. ‘Do you know the sights of London?’

She shook her head, and he waved her in, moving back far enough that she could squeeze in beside him.

It was a delicate manoeuvre. She was not used to being touched by anyone, least of all a man she had just met, and yet there was a thrill in his heat and his hands. He let go of the rope and steadied her as she wriggled her way in. She felt his body as a large blanket of warmth, shrouding her from the wind, which was a good deal colder up top. But mostly she felt his breath in the expanse of his chest at her back, and the heat of it where it caressed her cheek. He must chew mint, she thought, for no man’s breath smelled that sweet without it.

Then together they peered out over the masts of other boats to the tableau of London before them. And although she’d said she’d show him the best view from up here, he was the one to show her.

‘That way is Southwark,’ he said. Then he moved her around, pointing to the city. He named Westminster Abbey and the Tower of London. She couldn’t see them clearly, but she didn’t need to. What she felt was his body pressed against hers, the certainty with which he stood, and the pride he so obviously felt in his city. He grew so confident that he released his grip on the mainmast, bracing his feet wide as he tucked her against him. And she relaxed as she strained to see what he saw.

‘I suppose this means nothing to you without your going there,’ he mused.

‘Then I shall be sure to visit the places you have named.’

He grinned at her. ‘I shall take you,’ he said. ‘And you shall tell me how it compares to Canton. Does your land have such grand edifices?’

‘Different ones,’ she said. ‘But still grand.’

‘I wish I could see,’ he said, and she heard a longing in his voice that she did not understand.

‘It only takes a ship and some time.’

‘It takes a great deal more than that,’ he countered. ‘As a duke, I have many responsibilities that keep me tied to England. You cannot imagine the complaints I would get if I left for so much as a week, much less the time it would take to sail to China.’

‘You are fortunate to have a family who values you.’

As a woman of mixed race, she had discovered most people wanted her dead. She was beyond lucky to have found her father. Indeed, without him she might right now have been forced into prostitution for her daily bowl of rice. Instead, she stood with a handsome English mandarin while watching a seagull swoop past.

‘What happened to your mother?’ he asked, his voice low.

She jolted, feeling his breath against her cheek and the compassion in his words. It was a heady mixture when she was so used to harsh tones.

‘I don’t know,’ she confessed. ‘I was left not yet a day old on the temple steps.’

‘You don’t know?’ he asked. ‘But surely Lord Wenshire has discovered what happened to your mother.’

She flinched, panic surging into her throat. Damn it, only one day with a new person and she was already slipping.

‘He searched before coming to the temple. The woman he loved—my mother—’ she almost choked on the lie ‘—was murdered by her husband. She was his fifth concubine and very lonely. But even so he had the right to kill her when she became pregnant with another man’s child. I was lucky that a servant took me to the temple.’

He nodded slowly. ‘Why didn’t you say that at first?’

Because it was a lie.

‘My father told me to keep the details secret. China can be a harsh country, and he did not want people to think less of me because of my past.’

It was a feeble excuse, but he seemed to accept it. Or at least did not argue it.

‘Your life must have been very harsh.’

Yes and no. She knew many people who had had it worse. Many who had died.

‘I found a way to survive as a navigator. At least for a time.’ Until her true gender had been discovered. ‘And then my father found me. I was very, very lucky.’

‘And I am even more impressed,’ he said.

They said nothing then. They watched the birds and the bobbing ships. She surprised herself by relaxing into the moment. Their bodies were touching, and she ought to be afraid. She had never allowed a man this close before. Certainly not since developing breasts. And yet, she was not afraid.

She accustomed herself to the press of this man’s body, to his scent away from the dock smells, and the safety of looking at a view without being wary of any danger. They were docked in a safe harbour, and he was not a man to fear. He was a man who made her skin tingle and her thoughts spin in new directions. She had spent a decade on boats, learning her trade. She knew what men said and did. But never had her curiosity been sparked so strongly. And never had her thoughts turned so intimate, so fast.

And while she was thinking all that, he glanced down at her and smiled such that the skin wrinkled around his eyes. Odd that she found that handsome.

‘You are so comfortable here. Have you lived most of your life on a boat?’

‘I am one of the best navigators in China,’ she said proudly.

‘How...?’ He shifted uncomfortably as he searched for the words.

‘How was it possible for a woman?’

He nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘I saw that every person must have a way to make money. Without a family, my choices were limited.’

Since she was a half-white orphan, her choices had been to sell her body or find skills that were valuable despite her mixed race and sex.

‘I learned how to navigate from an old man who had done the job before his eyes turned white. He introduced me to a captain who needed a smart navigator, even if she was a girl.’

‘How old were you?’

‘Eleven for my first sailing. But I worked hard and earned my place.’

His brows rose. ‘I am impressed,’ he said. ‘To think of all the dangers you faced... Storms, pirates, brutal conditions...’

And her fellow sailors. Which was why she’d bound her breasts and kept to herself.

‘I have fought for everything I’ve ever had,’ she said. ‘And I have had the protection of good men.’

If it hadn’t been for the captain declaring her off-limits, she’d never have made it through her first voyage. Or any of the others.

She lifted her chin. ‘I am lucky.’

‘And a great deal more,’ he said as his gaze travelled over her face. ‘Cedric has excellent taste in women.’

She smiled, feeling the compliment warm her.

‘But I do not think he has your best interests at heart.’

She arched a brow, already knowing this game. ‘And you intend to save me?’

He mimicked her pose. ‘Do you need someone to do so?’

She laughed and shook her head, knowing she lied. She had a vast array of skills, but she could not survive alone. Not without her father to support her or a ship’s captain who would keep her safe while she worked. Or a husband to shelter her.

‘I have come to England to be with my father and to see a new land.’

She kept her voice steady as she spoke, though inside she winced at the lie. She was here because it was the only safe way to escape China. It turned out that she would do a great deal to create a safe home for herself and her sister—including leaving everything she’d ever known and lying to a very kind Englishman.

Meanwhile, the Duke had twisted enough in the crow’s nest to look at her face. ‘I came here today to dissuade my cousin from marrying a woman, only to realise she is an intriguing prize.’

He touched her face then. A slow caress of his thumb across her jaw. Fire sizzled in its wake, and her breath caught and held. Certainly she had experienced flirtation before, but this man had seen her worth faster than anyone else. He looked at her with admiration mixed with desire, and she wanted to leap into his fire just to feel the burn.

Madness. And yet she wanted it. Even more so when he leaned forward as if to kiss her. But she couldn’t allow that to happen. It would be leaping into something she could not control, and that was dangerous territory—especially for a woman.

So she leaped free. A quick jump and a grab and she was swinging herself away from him for all that they were still tied together.

‘Miss Richards?’ he said as she pulled herself up and away. ‘Is everything well?’

‘Yes,’ she said, horrified to realise that her breath was short with panic. It took her a moment to slow it down, to steady her heart, and to dry the slickness from her palms. ‘Yes,’ she repeated more strongly. ‘We must go back down.’

It was a lie. There was no need to go down for more than an hour except boredom. But he didn’t question her. Instead, he took one last look at the world around them before reaching up and pulling himself from the crow’s nest.

She watched his strong arms, noted the size of his hands, and admired the ease with which he managed his body. No wonder he was an English mandarin. He exuded power with every movement.

Then he smiled at her, gesturing for her to begin the descent. Normally she would warn him to be extra careful. The descent was harder than the climb, always. But she didn’t have the breath. And for the first time in years she felt awed by a man.