Page 66 of Project Duke

They stared into each other’s eyes, and Calliope couldn’t say a thing as the simple truth of his words struck her right in her very core.

“I’ll pick you up later to go to Portside,” he said and left the house.

Calliope’s chest was still tight with worry over their argument when she and Nathaniel walked into Portside later that day, Argos at their feet, sniffing and wagging his tail.

“Stay behind me and let me do the talking,” said Nathaniel as he protectively moved her behind him with his large arm, looking around the tavern as though it was full of murderers, vipers, and bears all ready to charge at her and tear at her throat.

Calliope scoffed and pulled slightly at Argos’s leash to stop him from sniffing at something sticking to the wooden floor of the tavern, then walked around Nathaniel’s back to stand next to him.

“No, Nathaniel,” she said firmly, despite her regret about their earlier quarrel. “I am doing everything you asked of me. We’ve been training for three days until you were satisfied that I could shoot into the bull’s-eye three times in a row. I have your pistols right here, in my reticule. We have the dogs. You are with me. Now you must also do what I asked of you. Let me conduct my investigation.”

“That is exactly what I’m doing,” he said gruffly and pushed her back behind him.

Calliope let out an angry puff of air. For three days they had shot countless bullets at Hampstead Heath until she could reload the pistol in record time and shoot well. They’d also practiced boxing. At the end of their long days, they had spent time with the girls, who had been going out with Grandmama and visiting her for tea.

But at night…oh dear Lord, at night, when there was no shooting and no boxing and no investigation to think of, Nathaniel and she lit the world on fire. At least that was how she felt, like she was burning and evaporating high into that night sky. It had become her favorite time of the day. Sometimes it was fast and needy, to satisfy their shared hunger for each other. Other times it was slow and loving, and they couldn’t stop looking into each other’s eyes.

She was afraid to believe she was more to him than just the means to get his inheritance. But all evidence showed he may really care about her.

And that was terrifying.

Because he might hurt her no matter how much he wanted to protect her.

Or she might hurt him like she had earlier today.

Besides, he still had no idea what she had in mind for her future. He probably thought that all this danger would be over once they found Spencer… He had no idea she intended to start a business and take on other jobs as an investigator.

She’d enjoyed herself immensely learning how to shoot and was very grateful to Nathaniel for the lessons because they would be indispensable.

“Are you still cross with me?” asked Calliope as they kept moving through the crowd.

“Yes,” he said. “But we have a task to do, and I’m a man of my word.”

Rough-hewn timber beams overhead, darkened with age, seemed to shudder from the volume of raucous laughter and shouts. And the thick, heady mix of sweat and ale was almost overpowering. The patrons, a motley assemblage of dockworkers, sailors fresh off ships, and a few gentlemen slumming from other parts of the city mingled and jostled, each trying to get a better view of the spectacle that drew them all in tonight.

In the midst of this chaos, a makeshift ring had been set up, delineated by thick ropes and anchored barrels. The crowd pressed against it, some climbing onto tables and chairs for a clearer view, their bets shouted to bookmakers who hastily jotted numbers onto grimy paper.

Two formidable men, muscles slick with sweat and gleaming in the feeble light, exchanged blows in the ring’s center. Calliope’s heart clenched. It must have been a similar sight last September when Spencer was press-ganged.

Her husband stood like a tall column next to her, his beautiful eyes dark under his eyebrows, his golden hair shining in the slight glow of lanterns and candles.

“You are, Nathaniel,” she said as she stepped up next to him again. “But please stop shoving me behind you. We made an agreement, which we both are fulfilling. You’re being unreasonable with your overprotectiveness.”

His large chest rose and fell quickly as he glared at her. “Unreasonable?” he grumbled. “You have no idea what it costs me to let you stand here.”

“You’re not the only one making compromises. I would be much better off here by myself without a navy officer looming over me,” she said and threw her glance at the sparring men. “Is it always like this during the matches?”

He looked at the ring. “Yes. Welcome to the dangerous and illegal world of prizefighting. Stakes are high, and only the best fighters gather here. Legal gentlemen’s matches with no money involved are boring.”

“I keep imagining Spencer here,” she said. “I think that’s why he loved it here. The excitement, the challenge. Put a challenge or a bet in front of Spencer, and he just can’t let it go. Besides, his life as duke was full of duties, so I’m not surprised he was here almost every week.”

Nathaniel’s gaze softened, warming the middle of her chest. “We’ll find him.”

The gentleness in his voice made her melt. Being here, where she knew Spencer had spent so much time, brought the sadness right back, making her eyes burn. Did he have a brandy at that bar before he went into the ring? Did he have loyal people who came and placed bets on him and cheered for him? How often did he win? What did he feel as he stood before his opponent, his fists clenched tightly, ready to strike?

His absence was a painful hole inside her. “Spencer, hold on, wherever you are,” she whispered.

Nathaniel squeezed her hand reassuringly, and she smiled back to him.