“Your Grace, I pray that you do not scold Mr. Morton,” Teresa replied weakly. “He has only delivered me here as I have been in something of an accident. Forgive me, Your Grace. I had not hoped to arrive like this.”
The Duke cast Luke a curious expression. “Mr. Morton?”
“I had yet to get around to telling Miss Dowels of my position in this household,” he admitted, a little sheepishly. He had hoped to see her settled before he revealed the truth. However, with her in a rapidly decreasing state of health, he felt a twinge of guilt. She would be embarrassed upon discovering who he really was. And he loathed the idea that he might cause her further unrest.
She blinked at him. “Your position here?”
Luke grimaced. “Yes… you see, I am not Mr. Morton, I am Lord Luke Morton. I am the Duke’s second son.”
Her gaze turned cold. “You did not tell me… I would not have ridden with you, had I—” A sudden fit of coughing silenced her words, prompting Luke’s father and brother to jump into action. What little color remained in her cheeks instantly bled away, leaving a waxy blue pallor.
“I see you have not learned when it is appropriate to play your little games, Luke,” the Duke chided. “Has a physician been sent for?”
“They have, Father, and I was not intending to toy with her. I only—”
“Did she say her name was Miss Dowels?” The Duke cut him off.
Luke nodded. “Miss Teresa Dowels.”
“The new governess. Well, this is a strange occasion indeed.” The Duke reached out and lifted Teresa from the chaise in his still-mighty arms. Without another word to Luke, he carried her up the stairs and took her into one of the nearby bedchambers. Luke followed, with Edmund bringing up the rear.
“Where in heaven’s name did you find her?” Edmund nudged his brother in the ribs.
“Highwaymen attacked her carriage. I came upon them whilst I was returning from my training with the local militia,” Luke explained. “Miss Dowels was very lucky that I came along when I did, for she was close to… being harmed. I believe they stole some of her jewelry.”
“You must think yourself quite the hero.” A playfully teasing note prickled through Edmund’s voice. The sound of it irked Luke. It was part of the reason he had not told Teresa of his true identity, for he had longed to bask in a little respect before returning to a household that never treated him with much dignity. Had he told her that he was the Duke’s second son, she would not have allowed him to be chivalrous. She would have rejected his request to have her ride with him, and then where would they be?
“I did what I had to. She would not have survived, otherwise.”
“Listen to you, lauding your exploits for all to hear. No doubt you will expect a medal of some sort next?” He chuckled softly. Edmund had been a different sort of fellow since returning from the war, injured. Sometimes, Luke found him staring into the distance, his expression blank. As though haunted by something. He always rallied, however, and often liked to tease Luke for not having taken his duties as far as Spain. Indeed, it was a sore point between them.
Luke scowled at his brother. “You understand that she is to work for our family, do you not? I saved her without knowing who she was. Not that it would have changed my behavior.”
“You always did love a damsel in distress, Brother.”
“Is it so difficult for you to admit that I did something good? Or is it envy, knowing you would not have done the same in my position?”
Edmund winced. “You wound me, Brother.”
“With the truth?”
“I have been heroic in my time.”
“Have you? You almost never mention it.” Sarcasm dripped from Luke’s words.
Edmund smiled. “Must we always fight?”
“If you continue to lessen the value of my endeavors, then yes.” He gave a small laugh, knowing his brother was right. They were fond of one another, but what brothers did not have an element of competition between them?
With only two years difference in age, the two of them were perpetual rivals in most things. Whilst Edmund excelled in the intellectual arts, Luke was a far more practical gentleman. Horsemanship was where he shone, though Edmund liked to think otherwise. Luke knew that his brother only made such claims in order to annoy him, but it usually worked. Patience and restraint had never been Luke’s strongest suits.
“Well, when you actually do something heroic, I will be the first to congratulate you. As you said, it was blind luck that led you to her, although I’m sure Father is glad that you rescued her. Otherwise, he would have had to employ an entirely new governess. The children are unruly without a touch of discipline, and we would have had to endure bedlam a while longer.”
Luke gaped at his brother in horror. “How can you be so cold and unfeeling in the face of an extremely unwell young lady?” Edmund had always been masculine to a fault, never showing any unnecessary emotion. It had worsened after his return from the war. Luke wondered if there was legitimately something amiss in Edmund’s brain, though he would never have dared to say so out loud.
“You know that is not what I meant. I am glad you brought her here safely. You must not be so sensitive.” Edmund frowned, clearly perplexed by Luke’s words, as though he wondered if he was being unfeeling. “Of course I am concerned for her.”
Within the bedchamber, the Duke lay Miss Dowels down on the covers of the bed. The housekeeper, Mrs. Fields, had joined them, alongside a maid who was quick to light a fire. This would not be where she would stay, Luke was certain of that. It had simply been the most convenient room. Curious about her, he moved to the opposite side of the bed and sat down in the armchair beside it.
The Duke eyed him strangely. “You do not need to stay. She will be well cared for.”
“Nevertheless, I would like to.”
Miss Dowels’ eyelids fluttered. “I would… prefer it… if I could be… left alone.”
“You see, Son, she does not want you to stay. Your lies have evidently caused trouble, which I shall have to deal with when she is better.” The Duke sighed and sat in the opposite armchair. “I will attend to her until the physician arrives. Your mother is away with friends, otherwise I would ask her to do so in my stead. It is unseemly for so many gentlemen to be hovering around her bedside. Both of you, go. Mrs. Fields and I will attend on her.”
“But, I did not mean to—”
“I said go,” the Duke barked, leaving no room for negotiation.
Edmund stifled a laugh as he turned and left the room. Luke glanced at Miss Dowels, only to find himself met with a steely stare. He realized that what his father said was true. Miss Dowels did not appear to appreciate his untruth, though it had been well meant.
I shall make amends for it when you are feeling more like yourself, he promised.
Indeed, he wondered why he cared so much about the opinion of a strange governess whom he had never met before. I ought not to, he told himself sternly. Fixing on that resolve, he stood and followed his brother out of the room.
Together, they passed an hour in the drawing room in stony silence. Any word uttered from Edmund’s mouth was bound to lead to conflict of some sort, and so they retreated into shared solitude. A mutual agreement not to say anything, if they could not say anything nice. Besides, Luke was in no mood to be toyed with.
Hearing a movement in the hallway beyond, Luke leapt to his feet and hurried out. Doctor Partridge stood in the entrance hall, ready to receive his coat from the butler, Lewis. He had spent the last half-hour with Miss Dowels, checking on her welfare.
“How is she?” Luke asked.
Dr. Partridge turned in surprise. “Oh, My Lord, I did not see you there.” He straightened up in a rather comical fashion. “Miss Dowels will recover in due course. The cold does not appear to have affected her lungs too much, and the knock to her head is not considerable. I have prescribed rest, and a tincture to help her breathe much easier. There is no cause for alarm.”
“That
is good news.”
“Yes, quite.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
He waved Luke’s praise away. “Think nothing of it, My Lord. It is simply my occupation. By all accounts, you were the one who rescued her. So, it ought to be you who receives thanks.”
“Nevertheless, I thank you.” The day somebody praised him for an act of heroism would be the day it began to snow in Hell. Still, he had the news he had hoped for. Miss Dowels would make a full recovery, and for that he was glad.
Now, if only he could come up with a means to punish the fellows who had done this to her. That would be a sure way of regaining her favor, though he still did not know why it bothered him so much.
I will find these highwaymen, Miss Dowels, and I will make them suffer for the pain they caused you.
Chapter 3
A week after she had been brought to the manor, Teresa awoke to a figure sitting in the armchair beside her. The past seven days had been plagued with coughing fits and headaches, which had made even the simplest of tasks almost impossible. Even having the drapes opened had made her feel as though an explosion had gone off in front of her very eyes.
Maids had come and gone, attending to her. On several occasions, Louisa Morton, the Duchess of Rowfex, had come to visit with her, though she did not remember much of those meetings.
So it was a surprise to see the Duchess sitting there that very morning. She watched Teresa closely.
“You are awake at last,” she said, her voice kind.
“My apologies, Your Grace. Have I slept too long?”
“No, no, I merely hoped I would catch you in a state of consciousness. Every time I have come to you before, you have been drifting in and out of a feverish slumber. However, the doctor tells me that your fever has broken at last.” She smiled warmly. “Tell me, do you feel much improved?”
Teresa nodded. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“Are you able to walk?”
“I can attempt it, Your Grace.”
“Excellent, then I should very much like for you to join us at luncheon. It is a little unorthodox, but we can make an exception, this once,” the Duchess proclaimed. “The children are very eager to learn more about you, as are the rest of us. You gave us quite the fright, arriving in the manner that you did. We have all been terribly concerned about you. Now, shall I send one of the maids in to help you change?”
“That would be exceedingly generous, Your Grace.”
“Nonsense, it is the least I can do after the horrors you have endured.”
“Horrors, Your Grace?” Teresa’s eyes widened. Please say you do not know the truth.
“Being attacked by highwaymen, Miss Dowels. You must have had the fright of your life.”
Teresa breathed a small sigh of relief. “Yes, Your Grace. Of course.”
With that, the Duchess stepped out to call in one of the maids—a petite, mousey-haired young thing who trembled like a leaf. Beside the Duchess, who was tall and slender and infinitely graceful, with piercing blue eyes and a mane of curled blonde hair that had been piled high atop her head, the poor maid looked like an urchin.
Good looks seemed to run in the family, though the thought prompted Teresa to blush. Lord Luke is a Duke’s son; he is no commoner. You must not think such things. Her mindset changed instantly, as she remembered the cruel trick he had played upon her. How he could have allowed her to wander into the jaws of embarrassment like that, she did not know. Yes, very cruel indeed. Her heart began to race as she realized she was about to come face-to-face with him again.
Ten minutes later, Teresa emerged from the bedchamber in a gown of marigold cotton. The Duchess had waited for her outside the room. A smile lit up her elegant features as she laid eyes upon her new governess. Truly, it made Teresa feel less anxious, though a lingering tremor remained. She was still so very embarrassed about the manner in which she had arrived. It took every ounce of courage she had to join the Duchess in descending the stairs.
Teresa was made of far sterner stuff than this, and she had work to do. Chin up, she told herself.
Becoming the governess to a Duke was no easy feat, but she had managed it with an impeccable history of education, and her friend’s glowing reference. In acquiring employment such as this, she hoped to secure a good future for herself. It did not matter how intensely a young man had embarrassed her; she would not let anything stand in her way.
The light seemed much too bright as she stepped into the dining room, to join the rest of the Rowfex family at their luncheon. It had yet to be served, and she got the feeling they were all waiting for her. She offered a shy smile to the room, whilst expertly skimming over Lord Luke. He did not seem too perturbed. In fact, he did not even appear to have noticed that she had entered the room.
What a proud, impertinent young man.
“Ah, Miss Dowels, I trust you are feeling better?” the Duke broke the silence first, as was customary.
She curtseyed awkwardly, still unsteady from her illness. “Yes, Your Grace. Much better.”
“Then, I should like to properly introduce you to the family,” he said, gesturing around the table. “I am uncertain how much you can remember from the night you were brought here, so I shall repeat some members for your sake.”
“Thank you, Your Grace. I should like that.”
“This is my eldest son, Edmund, the Marquess of Harpington. Next to him is my second son, Lord Luke. Across the table is my eldest daughter, Lady Felicity Morton. Beside her is the Duchess, whom you have met, and then we have our three youngest—Lord Thomas, Lady Philomena Morton, and Lady Elspeth Morton. The apples of their mother’s eye.”
Two pretty, identical little girls sat on Teresa’s side of the table. They could not have been older than five, with plump, pink cheeks and porcelain skin—they reminded her of her childhood dolls. Two pairs of twinkling blue eyes looked up at her with excitement, their smiles beaming through the room towards her. Nobody could fail to feel joy in the presence of such adorable creatures. They lightened Teresa’s heart in an instant.
On the other side of the Duchess sat a sullen little boy, who was perhaps eight, with the same dark hair and dark blue eyes as Lord Luke. However, his scowl softened as he looked upon Teresa, a mischievous smile breaking across his face.
“And they are to be my charges, Your Grace?”
The Duke nodded. “I see you are as smitten as the Duchess with these tiny urchins. They enchant everyone they meet, though they are little rascals at heart.” He chuckled softly. Coming from the Duke, it was a peculiar sound. He did not seem to be the type of man who was prone to light-heartedness, though it did suit him in a way.
“Papa, we are not urchins!” Philomena argued. Teresa knew her to be Philomena, as she wore a pink bow in her dark hair that was embroidered with the letter ‘P’. Elspeth wore a yellow bow, embroidered with ‘E’. The latter seemed to be the shyer one of the duo.
The Duke smiled. “You say you are not, but look at the jam smeared all over your mouth. Has someone been stealing tarts from Cook again?”
“Thomas did it,” Philomena replied, without missing a beat.
Her brother looked at her in shock. “I did not.”
“You did. You made me eat one.”
Teresa stepped into the argument before it could escalate further. “Now, you know it is a terrible thing to tell tales, don’t you?” She sank down to their level. “Honesty will make the angels smile down on you, even if you have done a naughty thing. Honesty can be forgiven more easily than a lie.”
Philomena glanced at her in surprise. “The angels will smile on me?”
“Oh yes, My Lady, if you tell the truth always.”
The little girl pondered the sentiment for a moment, before balling her hands into fists. “Then… I ate the jam tart. I took two from Cook, and I ate one. Elspeth and Thomas wouldn’t eat one before lunch, so I ate theirs, too.”
Teresa smiled. “There, see—that wasn’t so bad, was it? Now, we can for
give you and enjoy our delicious luncheon.”
“That was easy.” Philomena grinned triumphantly, rubbing her tummy at the thought of luncheon.
“Indeed, being honest is always the easiest course of action, in any situation.” Her eyes turned, almost subconsciously, towards Lord Luke. His gazed was already fixed on hers, an amused smile turning up the corners of his lips.
“A wise lesson, Miss Dowels,” he said softly.
She dipped her head. “It is good to learn such lessons at a very early age, so that the behaviors may be carried into adulthood. If children are not taught about being truthful, then they may grow to be young ladies and gentlemen who use deceit out of habit.”
A stillness settled across the room, as she realized that all eyes were on her. She had spoken vaguely, yet everyone knew that her target was Lord Luke. She could feel their shock and amusement, bristling through the atmosphere. All of them turned their gaze on Lord Luke, eager to hear is riposte.
He simply chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. “I could not agree more, Miss Dowels. Perhaps, I may learn a lesson or two from you.”
“She is our governess, Lukey, not yours,” Philomena chimed in, making everyone laugh. The tension shattered like a stone through glass, restoring the room to its former joviality. Even Teresa felt the weight sloughed from her shoulders as she took her seat. Lord Luke nodded towards her, though she did not understand the gesture. Did I win?
“Serve the luncheon,” the Duchess instructed. The staff began to move like dancers, bringing in the first dish.
Teresa was not unfamiliar with these sorts of things, but she understood that life in this household would take some getting used to. Her own home was all she had ever known, and this place seemed strange and alien. The children’s laughter was the only thing that soothed her, letting her know that everything would be fine.
She was here to perform a function, nothing more. If she could do that, then she would secure her future. That was worth enduring anything for.
Chapter 4
Lusting For The Broken Earl (Steamy Historical Regency) Page 30