How to Fool a Duke (The Husband Dilemma #1) - Lancaster, Mary Page 0,26

too happy to sell you the parcel where you will be digging for treasure. There is a cottage included with the ten acres, Your Grace.”

He considered it. Indeed, it would please him to have a stake in Whitmore, not only for the history, but for the women he felt obligated to protect now. Yes, even Sarah seemed to need his help—she just didn’t know it yet.

“I will have my solicitor take the necessary steps, Lady Whitmore.”

“You may call me Julia in this informal setting, Your Grace.”

“Julia?” he repeated.

“Yes.”

The duke did not believe in coincidence, however, he did believe in fate, as cruel as she could be at times. “Are you aware, Lady Whitmore, Julia was my mother’s name?”

***

Wearing her favorite walking dress, bonnet, and leather boots, Sarah could no longer resist the temptation to see what the duke meant exactly by digging. She had strolled along this beach hundreds of times alone, day and night. One of the greatest luxuries afforded the women staying on Lady Whitmore’s estate was the freedom to safely explore without a chaperone—in London, it would never be permitted!

She knew the general area where the duke might be, and as she grew closer, she could hear men talking, perhaps metal striking stone. She decided to risk walking up one of the lesser hills so she could get a better view of the activities, and found a most fascinating scene before her. A dozen men were busily digging and pounding wooden stakes into the ground. From her vantage point, she could see the square-shape of where they worked, much like a chess board.

It did not take long for Leonard’s familiar voice to sound from behind her. “You decided to accept my invitation, then?”

She turned to find him dressed in dirt-covered pantaloons, a construction worker’s, long-sleeved shirt, and scuffed boots. He had a kerchief tied about his neck, the first four buttons of his shirt undone, revealing hair on his chest. He mopped his forehead with the back of his hand.

“The conditions are not pleasant for a lady,” he said.

“I am not afraid of dirt and sweat, Your Grace,” she said. “Surely you know that by now.”

“Yes, but first impressions and all.”

She laughed at his audacity. “Are you comparing this to the first time we met?”

“Well, in fairness, I have seen you at your worst. So, I am happy to return the favor.”

“I would not consider this your worst, but more like your natural environment.”

He snorted. “As a pig in mud?”

“I never implied that, did I?”

They both chuckled.

“I am intrigued by what you are doing here. History was my favorite subject. Ask my former governess, she had to fight to get my nose out of the history books.”

“Do you wish me to explain what you are looking at below?”

“Of course.”

“My men are following a grid method of excavation.”

“Yes, it reminds me of a chess board.”

“Quite right,” he said. “There are a number of test pits, perhaps three-by-three yards each, and we preserve the integrity of each square with balks that are half a yard wide. It protects the different layers of soil which can tell us so much. And see…” He gestured below. “The wooden stakes are placed around each pit, and then we tie rope between the stakes to section off the squares.”

“Fascinating.”

“Would you care to take a tour?”

She nodded and allowed him to take her hand and guide her down the hill and up the shoreline until they reached the area where the men were working.

Lifting her chin and closing her eyes, she breathed in salt air, loving the heat of the sun on her face. “It is beautiful here.”

“Yes,” he said. “And you make it more so.”

She opened her eyes and gazed at him. “You think me beautiful?”

“I think you are a goddess, Sarah.”

He bowed slightly, and she fought the urges to run away or kiss him. “Are you flirting with me, Your Grace?”

“I am making my good opinion known.”

The turbulence inside her slowed down a bit. Last night, the storm had peaked, and she had gotten little sleep. She had acted abhorrently and owed him an apology. Coming here was her way of offering him an olive branch.

“What do you hope to find here?”

“Artifacts, of course.”

She was vaguely aware of his lingering stare at her back as she watched a man lift a shovel full of soil and dump it into a metal sieve. The man holding the sieve walked a short distance and slowly emptied the sieve by shaking it back and forth.

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