Read Online The Tattooed Duke by Maya Rodale - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Maya Rodale
Tags: Fiction, Historical Romance
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leave.
After an hour of strategic loitering, eavesdropping, and inquiring, Eliza managed to learn that the duke had come to visit Professor James Warwick, of the British Museum. But why? That, she would have yet to discover.
Chapter 12
In Which Our Heroine Discovers Timbuktu
Monday
I t was ridiculous, but she did not know where Timbuktu was and she very much wanted to. Eliza cursed her girl’s education, yet was still thankful her father, a playwright, had taught her to read and to write. Her mother had taught her very creative household accounting and acting. Her geography lessons didn’t cover much beyond stage right, stage left, or the city of London, which she knew extraordinarily well.
In the duke’s private study there were dozens of maps scattered across the table and a blue-green globe that spun on a stand. Armed with her feather duster as an excuse, Eliza slipped in when His Grace was out with Harlan in the garden, tending to some of the bizarre creatures they’d brought back.
While Jenny daydreamed, whistled, and stared out the window she was cleaning on the other side of the room, Eliza spun the globe around fast. And then slowly, inch by inch. She found England, France, Australia, Africa. Tahiti was much harder to locate, and Timbuktu . . . where the devil was it?
She hadn’t noticed the duke’s arrival until he stood behind her and whispered in her ear: “What are you looking for?”
Eliza shuddered and gasped, “Oh my lord.”
“No, merely your lord and master,” Wycliff replied, stepping back and grinning.
“Oh for Lord’s sake,” she retorted, turning around and biting back a smile. She noted that Jenny was still washing the windows and humming to herself, and only mildly interested in the duke’s presence. “I was dusting. And curious. Where might a girl find Timbuktu?”
“If it were easy enough that a girl could find it, it’d already have been discovered and colonized,” Wycliff remarked.
“And there wouldn’t be a ten thousand pound prize for finding it,” Eliza added.
“Considering the venture yourself?” Wycliff asked. He leaned against the bookshelf that had been stocked with leather-bound volumes and all sorts of curiosities from his travels. She would have to dust those later, too.
“Well now that you mention it, Your Grace, I daresay it’d be more exciting than cleaning.”
“That, you could be assured of. And much, much more dangerous.” There was a devilish spark in his eye that made her think there was plenty of danger right here.
His Grace stepped uncommonly close to her and pointed to a spot on the globe. His hands were riddled with scars, which did not surprise her in the least.
“Timbuktu is here, in northern Africa. Or it’s rumored to be.”
“It doesn’t look too far. What is the great challenge?”
“Mainly surviving disease, the extreme heat, crossing the desert, and the vicious, murderous tribes that live here and want to keep Europeans out.”
“And why do you wish to go and endure all of that? You could live so comfortably here, ordering around your staff and taking hot baths every morning, afternoon, and night.”
“Tempting,” the duke said in a low voice that warmed her up. “But Timbuktu is a challenge. It will test the limits of my wits and ability. Then there is glory, when I succeed. It’s something I could accomplish and be damned proud to have done so.”
“Being a duke isn’t glorious and challenging enough?” Eliza asked. From her vantage point, it seemed so.
“All I did was get born; I did nothing to deserve it,” Wycliff said. “The challenge is surviving the tedium of balancing account books.”
“Not as thrilling as exploring,” Eliza agreed. And she could see his point, though empathizing was another matter entirely.
“The life of a peer does not appeal to me, really. Sitting around at Parliament, at the club, in the library with accounts. Going to the same old parties with the same
After an hour of strategic loitering, eavesdropping, and inquiring, Eliza managed to learn that the duke had come to visit Professor James Warwick, of the British Museum. But why? That, she would have yet to discover.
Chapter 12
In Which Our Heroine Discovers Timbuktu
Monday
I t was ridiculous, but she did not know where Timbuktu was and she very much wanted to. Eliza cursed her girl’s education, yet was still thankful her father, a playwright, had taught her to read and to write. Her mother had taught her very creative household accounting and acting. Her geography lessons didn’t cover much beyond stage right, stage left, or the city of London, which she knew extraordinarily well.
In the duke’s private study there were dozens of maps scattered across the table and a blue-green globe that spun on a stand. Armed with her feather duster as an excuse, Eliza slipped in when His Grace was out with Harlan in the garden, tending to some of the bizarre creatures they’d brought back.
While Jenny daydreamed, whistled, and stared out the window she was cleaning on the other side of the room, Eliza spun the globe around fast. And then slowly, inch by inch. She found England, France, Australia, Africa. Tahiti was much harder to locate, and Timbuktu . . . where the devil was it?
She hadn’t noticed the duke’s arrival until he stood behind her and whispered in her ear: “What are you looking for?”
Eliza shuddered and gasped, “Oh my lord.”
“No, merely your lord and master,” Wycliff replied, stepping back and grinning.
“Oh for Lord’s sake,” she retorted, turning around and biting back a smile. She noted that Jenny was still washing the windows and humming to herself, and only mildly interested in the duke’s presence. “I was dusting. And curious. Where might a girl find Timbuktu?”
“If it were easy enough that a girl could find it, it’d already have been discovered and colonized,” Wycliff remarked.
“And there wouldn’t be a ten thousand pound prize for finding it,” Eliza added.
“Considering the venture yourself?” Wycliff asked. He leaned against the bookshelf that had been stocked with leather-bound volumes and all sorts of curiosities from his travels. She would have to dust those later, too.
“Well now that you mention it, Your Grace, I daresay it’d be more exciting than cleaning.”
“That, you could be assured of. And much, much more dangerous.” There was a devilish spark in his eye that made her think there was plenty of danger right here.
His Grace stepped uncommonly close to her and pointed to a spot on the globe. His hands were riddled with scars, which did not surprise her in the least.
“Timbuktu is here, in northern Africa. Or it’s rumored to be.”
“It doesn’t look too far. What is the great challenge?”
“Mainly surviving disease, the extreme heat, crossing the desert, and the vicious, murderous tribes that live here and want to keep Europeans out.”
“And why do you wish to go and endure all of that? You could live so comfortably here, ordering around your staff and taking hot baths every morning, afternoon, and night.”
“Tempting,” the duke said in a low voice that warmed her up. “But Timbuktu is a challenge. It will test the limits of my wits and ability. Then there is glory, when I succeed. It’s something I could accomplish and be damned proud to have done so.”
“Being a duke isn’t glorious and challenging enough?” Eliza asked. From her vantage point, it seemed so.
“All I did was get born; I did nothing to deserve it,” Wycliff said. “The challenge is surviving the tedium of balancing account books.”
“Not as thrilling as exploring,” Eliza agreed. And she could see his point, though empathizing was another matter entirely.
“The life of a peer does not appeal to me, really. Sitting around at Parliament, at the club, in the library with accounts. Going to the same old parties with the same
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