Awakening His Duchess Read Online Free PDF Page B

awhile.”
    Because more than Yvette wanted a safe haven for Etienne
while she tried to track down her late husband’s assets, the duke wanted an
heir, even if it meant recognizing a less-than-worthy French daughter-in-law.
Apparently Etienne was the closest thing he had to a legitimate male
descendant.

Chapter Three
    Two
and a half years later, September 1794
    County Durham, England
     
    “We are almost home,” said Beau to his dark-skinned companion
trudging along beside him. The air smelled like memories of his youth. A
delicate hint of English rose gardens, hay, and deciduous trees flavored the
breeze instead of the overpowering scent of bougainvillea, sugarcane fires, and
palms. By God, he wanted to get home, collapse onto his down-filled mattress,
and sleep until he could forget the last decade ever happened.
    “You are almost home,” said Mazi in his deep resonant
voice. “I am only one stop closer.”
    “You may want to stay here.” Beau stopped short of begging
Mazi to stay. He already owed his life to the man a dozen times over. “You’ll
never want for anything.”
    “My wife.”
    His fingers curling tightly, Beau pressed his lips together.
Mazi might yearn for his wife, but if Beau never again saw the woman he tried
to marry, it would be too soon. If there was any justice in the world, Yvette
would have perished in the revolt. Many of the white plantation owners had
died. Her greed and disappointment in his lack of wealth had led to his being
forced into slavery. If not for the revolution, he’d still be a slave—or dead.
    They turned the corner onto the tree-lined lane leading to
the ducal estate. Beau tried to breathe in deeply, but his lungs refused to
take in the air. Turning to the side, he coughed.
    Mazi stopped and waited for Beau to recover his breath. Mazi
was a good man, a proud man who wanted to return home to his wife and
children—if they yet lived—and to take over the tribe his brother had coveted
enough to sell Mazi into slavery. Beau owed him the chance to do that.
    “If you wait for me to get well, I will go with you,” said
Beau. But he didn’t know if he would ever be a whole man again.
    Mazi looked off into the distance. “I return you to your
family, to the place of your ancestors. You will stay here.”
    Beau hitched the pack on his back. He would stay until his
father grew tired of him. As the third son, he was superfluous. If he had come
home from his world travels in good order, his father would have insisted he
choose between the clergy, the military, or politics.
    A
cart rattled by and the man in it craned his neck staring at the odd pair. Beau
doubted any local would recognize him. He was very different from the spoilt
youth who had left for a world tour a decade ago. Throughout England he and his
companion had been a source of curiosity. If it wasn’t Mazi’s dark skin drawing
stares, it was their tattered and barefoot appearance or their disregard for
convention, sleeping in hayricks under the stars. Beau had lived too long with
nothing to easily fall back into civilized behavior.
    Besides, their coin was sparse. It had taken them months to
get enough money to book passage to England. Once on friendly shores, Beau had
considered sending a letter and waiting for money to be sent, but the petition
for help was what the youth he had been would have done.
    As they crested a small rise the massive elm tree shadowing
the cottages of his father’s crofters came into sight.
    Beau’s heart squeezed and he stumbled forward, running with
his uneven gait to touch the warm wood. He’d climbed this tree with his
brothers, swung from an old rope tied to one of his branches, escaped from his
tutors beyond it.
    Tears burned at his eyes. He was home.
    He never thought he’d make it back here. Soon he would see
his sisters and brothers, feel their arms around him, hug and kiss his mother
and greet the duke.
    The towering thick tree was familiar, but different. The old
rope,