Free Duchess 02 - Surprising Lord Jack by Sally Mackenzie Page A

Jack and then Frances with big, beseeching eyes, his tail wagging slowly but hopefully.
    His hair was matted, he smelled of wet dog and other, even less savory things, and he was likely harboring an entire colony of fleas, but his look of entreaty was so persuasive, Frances couldn’t bring herself to argue for his eviction.
    “That’s Shakespeare, milord,” Henry said. “’E was Dick Dutton’s, who used to work at the theater, but Dick took off a bit ago. Shakespeare’s been living on the street ever since.”
    “I see. I don’t suppose you’d like to be his new owner?”
    Henry shook his head. “Nay. Me master’d whip me good if I tried to keep a dog.”
    Jack sighed and nodded. “I’m not surprised.” He came around to vault into his seat and then regarded Shakespeare. The dog’s tail moved more rapidly. “Well, I suppose you’ve earned some reward for watching over the infant, haven’t you?”
    The tail moved faster, beating against Frances’s leg.
    “And I assume you have no particular attachment to this somewhat unlovely part of London?”
    Shakespeare barked in such a way as to indicate he’d be happy to leave the neighborhood and put a paw on Jack’s breeches.
    Jack raised his brows, and the dog snatched back the offending body part.
    “That’s better. Stand clear, Henry; we are off.”
    They took a narrow street to a wider one and were soon weaving between slower vehicles, heading out of Town.
    Jack was traveling quite fast. In fact, the speed was rather alarming. Frances tightened her hold on the baby and the curricle as they hit a bump. “Slow down.”
    He kept his eyes on the road. “I can’t. We need to get to Bromley as quickly as possible.”
    “It’s not going to help anyone if we end in a ditch.” She clenched her teeth and gripped the side of the curricle even more tightly, bracing her feet on the floor—and bit back an oath as they barely missed hitting a wagon that pulled out in front of them.
    She spared a glance at Jack. He had their lives in his hands, but he looked completely at ease—and he clearly wasn’t going to slow his pace. Arguing would only distract him from his driving. She had a strong sense of self-preservation. She held her tongue.
    And she prayed.
    Once they were free of the London traffic, they went even faster. The wind blew Shakespeare’s ears straight behind him and his tongue lolled out so he looked as if he was grinning.
    And then it took Frances’s hat—she couldn’t spare a hand to hold it on her head.
    “Don’t worry,” Jack said, laughing. “We’ll get you another.”
    Frederick’s old hat was hardly nice enough to provide a nest for a mouse. “How do you keep yours on?”
    “It fits me better.” He sent her a sidelong glance. “Frankly, I’m surprised at how poor the quality of country-made clothing is, if yours is any example. While you’re in London, we should get you some new things.”
    Ah yes, she’d visit a tailor with Lord Jack.
    Not likely.
    It would be nice if she could see some of the London sights while she was here, however, especially since this was sure to be her only trip to Town. If only she could approach her mother’s family—
    No. She had far too much pride to come crawling to them after they had ignored her so completely her entire life. Her grandparents were quite old and probably not in London, and her uncles . . . well, they’d washed their hands of her, too. And even if they would have recognized her at one time, they’d slam the door in her face now. She was rather a walking scandal.
    She glanced down at the baby. Oh dear. The poor infant’s face was so white. Her heart started to pound, and she felt a little light-headed. Was it already too late? She couldn’t let go of the curricle long enough to touch him and see if he was still breathing.
    Why did she care? His mother was only a whore, after all; his father, at best, some irresponsible rake. If this baby lived, he’d grow up to be a pickpocket