To Pleasure a Duke (The Husband Hunters Club 3)

Chapter 25

The landlord came bearing food and drink, and announced that their bags had been taken to a room upstairs. Eugenie was relieved when Sinclair suggested she make use of it first. Georgie watched her go with an appearance of unease, but she assured him that the duke would not harm him and despite appearances was really quite nice. As she closed the door she saw Sinclair’s expression at being described in such a way, and it made her giggle to herself as she climbed the stairs.

Sinclair was certainly not used to the treatment he was receiving from Georgie. Although perhaps it would do him good. He was too used to getting his own way and being fawned upon. Such deference couldn’t be good for him—well, not all the time.

Her smile faded when she opened her carpetbag. There was only her pink dress left to change into, and that was none too clean. But at least, she comforted herself, it was dry, so she made the best of it. The room looked as if it was used as a storeroom, with boxes stacked against the walls and the window filthy with disuse. As Georgie had hinted, this was clearly not a place where people stayed for long, and she was glad to return downstairs.

She paused outside the parlor. It was very quiet. With a feeling of growing concern she cracked open the door to see what was happening. Had Sinclair tied Georgie up and gagged him? Or were they glaring at each other warily, like two dogs with one bone, as they had been when she left?

But the scene before her was actually very domestic.

Sinclair was sitting at the table, busy putting himself on the outside of a plate of stew and potatoes, while Georgie was seated opposite him, just finishing his helping. He set down his spoon and eyed the serving dish longingly.

“More, brat?” Sinclair said, before Eugenie could utter a word. He reached over and spooned more stew into the boy’s bowl and then added a huge serving of the mashed potatoes. “Enough?” he asked dryly.

Georgie nodded happily and applied himself to the meal.

Only then did Sinclair look up and see Eugenie watching them from the doorway. A flush colored his lean cheeks and he looked almost shamefaced, as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Being kind to an urchin, she supposed, wasn’t the done thing for a duke, although he would probably be more than happy to hand out a few coins. Close contact with the masses, that was something Sinclair wasn’t used to, but in Eugenie’s opinion it was very good for him.

“You’ll make the child ill,” she said mildly, making her way across the room, to where her cloak lay spread out before the fire. To her relief it was almost dry, the woolen cloth steaming.

“Impossible,” Sinclair retorted. “He has the stomach of a grown man.”

She was surprised to hear Georgie chuckle in response. Evidently while she’d been away upstairs the two of them had formed some strange sort of masculine bonding.

Eugenie joined them at the table and spooned some of the food onto her own plate.

“Our host found Georgie some clothes and a pair of boots. They look rather large but he can always stuff the toes with cloth,” Sinclair went on blithely, as if he discussed such things every day. He gestured to a pile of clothing and the boots, which had been placed on the sideboard.

“The duke used to stuff his boots when he went to boarding school ’cause they was too big for him,” Georgie explained, his mouth full of potato.

“Did he?” Eugenie gave Sinclair a puzzled look. “Didn’t you mention to your mother or your father that they were too big?”

“My parents were away somewhere or other on the Continent when I was sent off to my first public school. I was seven. I suppose I could have written a letter to them but by the time they received it and sent me new boots I would have grown into the old ones.”

He sounded matter-of-fact but to Eugenie, who’d been hemmed about with her family most of her life, his childhood appeared lonely and bizarre. It gave her an entirely new slant on his character. Who would have thought she could ever feel sorry for the Duke of Somerton?

They ate in silence.

“Will you be happy to stay here, do you think?” Eugenie asked brightly, smiling determinedly at Georgie.

The boy gave her a sideways look. “Dunno.”

“You will have work and food and a warm place to sleep,” she reminded him.

“Paid for with my blunt,” Sinclair added dryly.

“He won’t keep me after you’re gone,” the boy said with the certainty of the old at heart. “He’ll pocket the blunt and send me off down the highway. Probably make me give back the boots, too.”

Eugenie gave a gasp. “Oh no, we won’t let him, Georgie!”

“Once you’re gone how will you know?” Georgie replied calmly.

“I’ll see about that,” Sinclair declared angrily, rising to his feet, but Eugenie put her hand on his arm to stop him.

“He’s right. How will we know? And how can you force the landlord to do what you want?” she said. “You cannot be keeping an eye on him after we’ve gone.” Her eyes widened, a glint in them he knew well. “Sinclair! There’s only one thing to be done. We’ll have to take Georgie with us.”

“Definitely not,” Sinclair said in his chilliest voice. “I knew this would happen, Eugenie. I knew you would want to take the child with us, and I utterly refuse. We are not taking Georgie and that is final.”