“I’ll be damned if the woman is going to die on me,” Jordan said, staring down into his bowl of soup.

Cook had made his favorite potato soup, but the York women had stolen his appetite. At least they weren’t at his dining table.

“Dr. Reynolds says the grandmother needs to rest. She’s suffering from exhaustion. She shouldn’t have come. If she hadn’t come, she wouldn’t have exhausted herself.” He glanced at Reese. “Do you think that’s amusing?”

“I think your reaction to the women is amusing, yes. I’ve never seen you so out of sorts.”

“I have a reason. I’ll be damned if the woman is going to die on me,” Jordan repeated. “Not here. Not now. Not at Sedgebrook.”

“You can do a lot of things, Jordan, but I don’t think even you can command the Almighty.”

“It has nothing to do with the Almighty,” Jordan said. “And everything to do with Martha York.”

One of Reese’s eyebrows winged upward. “Miss York?”

“She wouldn’t leave well enough alone. She insisted on writing me every few weeks. When I didn’t answer, did she do as any sane person would do? Infer from my silence that I didn’t wish to correspond with her? No, she just wrote me again. If I hadn’t finally answered her, my library would have been papered with her letters.”

“Did you read them?”

“Of course I read them,” Jordan said.

When Reese didn’t say anything, he continued. “I don’t want Matthew’s bequest, so I thought ignoring her would be enough. Little did I know that she was the most stubborn woman on the planet.”

“You’ve met your match, then.”

He put down his spoon and picked up his glass of wine.

Reese smiled. “It wasn’t an insult, Jordan. Your tenacity is one of your better traits. Why not accept York’s gift? I thought you liked the man.”

Jordan sat back in his chair.

“I did,” he said, giving Reese the truth. “Very much. I respected him, probably more than any other man I’ve ever known.”

“Even your father? Or Simon?”

“My father died before I really got to know him and Simon was always involved in his interests. He was either running around Europe studying painting or exploring Italy. When we saw each other I think he was vaguely surprised that he had a brother.”

“He was much older than you, wasn’t he?” Reese asked.

His friend had been strangely intrusive of late, and incessantly curious.

“Eleven years,” he said, hoping that Reese would drop the subject of Simon.

“At least your brother left Sedgebrook from time to time,” Reese said, putting an end to his wistful thought.

“He was enthralled with Italy,” Jordan said. “He would have remained there year-round, I think, but for twinges of duty. It didn’t strike often. He stayed in London and partied when he was home.”

“A party or two wouldn’t be a bad thing for you. Consider yourself fortunate to have been visited by attractive women, or didn’t you notice Josephine York? It would be good practice to talk to her.”

“I noticed. I’m not dead. Badly damaged, yes, but not dead. And I don’t need any practice. I’ve had numerous occasions to talk to beautiful women.”

“Not lately,” Reese said.

“No,” he admitted. “Not lately.”

“They’re heiresses.”

“Are they?”

Reese smiled. “The richest in England.”

“York Armaments,” Jordan said, nodding.

“It’s as if Providence delivered them up to you.”

Jordan sat back and regarded Reese. “What are you saying? I should convince one of them to marry me? What possible inducement could I give them?”

“The same one you’d give if you went to London to find a wife. You’re a duke and the owner of Sedgebrook. Or did you miss that acquisitive glint in the pretty one’s eyes?”

“They’re both pretty,” Jordan said. “Just in different ways.”

Reese didn’t say anything.

Granted, the older sister wasn’t as brightly attractive as the younger one, but Martha had something else. A soberness, perhaps. Or maybe it was strength. She was decidedly opinionated. He knew that firsthand.

Her hair was interesting. And her eyes. You could tell exactly what she was thinking just by looking at her eyes.

“Martha was instrumental in helping her father,” he said, feeling a curious wish to defend her to Reese.

“Was she?”

He nodded. “She was his assistant, I understand. I’d venture to say she knows as much as Matthew about the York Torpedo Ship.”

“Why not use the situation to your advantage?”

“In what way?” Jordan asked.

“Perhaps Martha could help you solve your sinking problem.”

“I doubt she would,” Jordan said. “You didn’t see the look on her face when she talked about her father’s bequest. Miss York is as annoyed with me as I am her.”

He was not about to ask for her assistance with his problem. He would figure out what was causing the vessels to sink. Either one of the seams hadn’t been correctly fused or there was a problem with the steering mechanism. As it was, every single one of his torpedo ships had headed straight for the bottom of the lake.

“Matthew figured it out,” he said.

Reese took a sip of his wine, then sat back in the chair.

“He got his vessel to work?”

Jordan nodded. “That’s what Martha wrote. She didn’t tell me how, though.”

“Would she share that information?”

“I doubt it,” he said.

No, he was definitely not going to seek her help. He didn’t want to be the recipient of another of her pitying looks. Or worse, her opinion that he was an idiot. He suspected she wouldn’t hesitate to tell him.

He glanced at Reese, saw his smile, and wondered what was amusing his friend so much.

Martha couldn’t sleep, despite the mattress being soft and luxurious. Her dinner had been wonderful: potato soup, roast beef with a selection of vegetables, and a perfect pudding at the end. Even the wine had been superlative, but then it would’ve been. No doubt the Duke of Roth demanded the best of everything.

She finally gave up the effort to sleep and slid from the bed, grabbing her wrapper and donning it before going to the window. The moon was bright enough she could see it through the curtains.

Gran’s and Josephine’s rooms were on the other side of the corridor and faced the expanse of lawn leading to the woods surrounding Sedgebrook. Her view was of the lake now silver with moonlight.

Perhaps she should have been surprised to see a man standing there on the short dock. A moment later she saw the walking stick and knew it was the duke. Had she somehow known he’d be there?

She didn’t attempt to shield herself but stood in the middle of the window watching him. What did he see, looking out over the expanse of the water? Was it pain keeping him awake? Or something else? An unrequited love, perhaps? Did he mourn the loss of someone?

Since she was up, she should go and check on Gran and see if the medicine Dr. Reynolds had given her was working.

“She should be fine,” the doctor had said after his examination. “A few days of rest is what I would recommend before traveling back to your home. I’ve given her a restorative tonic in the meantime.”

Had the physician conveyed that information to the duke? If not, she’d have to do it herself in the morning. He would not be pleased, if his reception was indicative of his mood.

She wished he wasn’t standing there. She didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone quite as alone as the Duke of Roth. She wanted to comfort him in some way, go and stand before him and wrap her arms around his waist, lay her cheek against his chest. His arms would reach out and embrace her.

What a foolish creature she was being. He would no more comfort her than she would do something so forward as to embrace him.

The somber, studious man whose letters she’d read had become firm and fixed in her mind. Yet the image had been shaken because he turned out to be devastatingly handsome. What did that make of her?

She lost track of how long she stood there, moving back only when he turned and slowly made his way back to the house. She stood to the side of the window, not wanting him to see her, and feeling a deep sorrow for him with each punishing step.

Josephine surveyed the armoire and the dresses Amy had hung there. Tomorrow she’d wear the pale blue dress with the embroidery details.

Martha’s interference meant she hadn’t been able to see the duke tonight, but there was always a chance she would encounter him in the morning. She wanted to look her best.

Sedgebrook was like a fairy-tale land, one corridor after another leading to a series of unimaginable rooms. She’d already decided she was going to explore the whole of it tomorrow, whether or not doing so would be acceptable or categorized as rude.

She wanted to see everything, all the various parlors and sitting rooms, plus the inner workings of the house. She wasn’t going to concern herself with the acres surrounding Sedgebrook. There was time enough to acquaint herself with those after she became the Duchess of Roth. No, for now it would be enough to memorize the placement of the public rooms. Then she’d learn where the duke slept.

First, however, she’d pick out a likely confidante. She’d find a young maid who would be suitably pleased by a little flattery, not to mention a gratuity. That way, she would be informed of the duke’s movements and habits, as well as gaining entrance into places normally reserved for the family.

After all, that’s what she’d be in little enough time.

Josephine smiled at herself in the mirror, pleased with her appearance. The idea of failing to acquire Sedgebrook never entered her mind. She always got what she wanted, one way or another.