Shaking off the pictures of Miss Rebecca Jones from his mind, he started to study the books lining the walls of the study.
There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to their placements. Plato was next to a treatise on the farms of the Midlands. A small book of Shakespeare sonnets lay atop a large book of drawings about the fauna of Africa.
He wondered if his cousin, the prior Duke, ever read these books. Did it make him feel more learned for some reason? If not, why have them in his study. There was a fully stocked library somewhere else in the house. He was sure Scruggs had pointed it out.
Maybe these were overflow from the library.
Devlin had always enjoyed reading. As a single man with too much idle time on his hands. He had learned long ago how pleasurable it was, losing oneself in a heavy tome. There was nothing like perusing Virgil in the original Latin to pass a quiet afternoon.
A quick glance at Tony and Benny made him wonder if either of them had cracked a book since the three of them had left school. Probably not, he thought sadly.
“So, what do people do in the country?” Tony asked.
We’ve been here but a few hours and they are already bored, Devlin thought.
“I don’t know,” Benny said. “I make my agents come to London. I don’t think I’ve spent more than seven or eight days at my estate in the last ten years.”
“I suppose we could go to the village inn,” Tony said with a raised eyebrow. “I assume the village has an inn and therefore a tap.”
“A pretty tavern wench,” Benny said. “Buxom and willing. Yes, sounds rather fun.”
“Really?” Devlin said. “We have just arrived. Surely we can go a night or two without carousing about like lonely tomcats.”
Both the Earl and the Baron looked at each other in open shock. Since when did their friend pass up an opportunity for fun? Devlin could read their thoughts as clear as day. The title has gone to his head. Either that or he’d come down with a fatal disease.
“I will need a few days, then we can return to London,” Devlin continued. “Scruggs has set up appointments tomorrow with the necessary retainers, agents, secretaries, etcetera. Another day to tour the home estate, and then we are off.”
A soft rap at the door interrupted them. Turning, they watched as Scruggs stepped in.
“Excuse me, Your Grace,” the butler said. “Miss Jones requested a word. She said it was rather important.”
“Of course, Scruggs, please show her in.”
Devlin’s heart jumped. Interesting. He watched as the young woman entered the room. Head up, unafraid. As if she were entering a coffee shop or tea house. Not the home territory of one of the most powerful Lords in England.
He was once again struck by her hidden beauty.
He wondered briefly if the woman realized how pretty she was. She had recently left that innocent, young miss stage behind and entered the beautiful, stately, strong willed, woman stage that he found so attractive.
Intelligence, and if he was any judge, passion burned inside this woman.
Their eyes locked for a moment. A glance that could not be broken. He felt his heart race and noticed a slight pink glow fan across her cheeks.
Once again, he remembered the brief shock that had jumped between them when his hand had held her elbow.
Remembering where he was, he broke eye contact and gave a quick dip of his head. “Miss Jones.”
“Your Grace,” she answered with a slight curtsey as she glanced at his friends as if worried to talk in front of them.
“I do apologize,” the Duke said as he made the proper introductions. His friends maintained their manners. An act that he would have to thank them for later. The last thing he needed was upsetting his wards’ governess.
“Scruggs mentioned you wished to see me?” the Duke said once the introductions were complete.
The governess hesitated for a moment as she drew herself to her full height and set her shoulders. For some reason, she reminded him of a she-wolf protecting her pups. Interesting.
“Your Grace, I have just heard that you are planning to return to London in a few days. Is that correct?”
Devlin hesitated for a moment. He glanced at his friends. He would have to remember the speed of the servant drums. Any and all information would fly through the house like water through a straw basket.
“That is correct,” he replied.
“You can’t,” Miss Jones said. Her bold statement leaving an awkward silence in the room. Her hand immediately covered her mouth as if she wished she could hold back the sharp words.
Now it was his turn to rise to his full height. “I am sorry, Miss Jones, but I do believe only the King himself can tell me what I can and can’t do. Isn’t that correct Claremont?”
Benny stepped forward, “Yes, as a Duke of the realm. Only the King can issue you orders.”
The pretty pink left her cheeks as she realized what she had said, and who she had said it to. But, she didn’t back down, didn’t look away.
“I am sorry Your Grace,” she said as way of apology. “You mustn’t, you really need to stay here at Pine Crest.”
Devlin’s brow narrowed in confusion. “Why Miss Jones. Why must I remain here in the hinterland, what could possibly keep me away from the joys of London and all it has to offer.”
A look of disapproval flashed behind her eyes when he mentioned London. This was a woman who obviously did not approve of his reputation. The thought troubled him. Then, the fact that he was troubled by it bothered him. What was it about this woman that her opinion mattered.
“The girls,” she said as if that was all that needed to be said. “Lady Johanna, Elizabeth, and especially Isobel. They need you here.”
Devlin’s confusion continued to grow. Of course, he had no experience with young girls such as these. What was it about them that required his presence? Or was it Miss Jones that needed him to stay? The thought was intriguing. But no, that could not be it.
This woman didn’t need anyone. The set of her shoulders, and the commanding look in her eye, let everyone know that she was in charge.
“I don’t understand, Miss Jones,” Devlin said, “I assume the girls will be perfectly all right here in their home. They have a large staff. And I am positive you will see to their proper upbringing. Believe me, there is little that I could help you with. I see no reason why I must stay.”
The governess sighed. Obviously tolerating his ignorance.
“Your Grace, they have been through so much. Poor Johanna has buried three mothers, and now her father. Elizabeth is frightened of her own shadow. And, Isobel is one step from becoming a wild hellion.”
Studying his drink for a moment, the Duke paused. He hadn’t really considered what his young wards were experiencing. At their age, he had been packed up and sent to a school. A school about as far away from his parents as possible.
He remembered that sense of loss, that feeling of hopeless aloneness. At least the girls had each other. They had their own beds and were able to stay in their home. What was more, they had their own personal lioness, in Miss Jones. They need never fear.
“They need stability,” Miss Jones continued. “They need time to come to know you. This is a critical moment in their lives. They need to know that someone cares about them and can be relied upon to be there when they are in need.”
“Isn’t that your job?” the Earl of Claremont interjected. Devlin shot him a look and subtly shook his head.
The Earl looked back in confusion, as if silently asking - ‘Surely the new Duke couldn’t be thinking of remaining here in Pine Crest.'
“I am but an employee,” Miss Jones said. “An employee that can be dismissed or leave at any time. The girls need more, they need family.”
Devlin looked back at the young governess. Her eyes were pleading with him to understand. Begging him to do the right thing. To put someone else’s needs above his own.
Placing his drink upon the desk, he sighed before saying, “
I will think about it, Miss Jones.”
“Devlin?” Tony gasped.
She didn’t smile. Not even a brief smirk of victory. What would it take to make the woman smile? He wondered. What would it take to have her moaning in ecstasy? was his next thought.
“We will discuss it later, Tony,” the Duke said over his shoulders as he continued to watch the young Miss Jones, forcing the troubling thoughts from his head. This woman was off limits and out of bounds. Every social rule said so.
“It will make a tremendous difference in the girls’ lives, and go a long way to making them happy again. Thank you, Your Grace,” she said as she dropped into a curtsey and quickly departed.
“You can’t be serious,” Benny said. As the door clicked shut. “You don’t have to stay here. It isn’t your responsibility. I told you, that is what servants are for.”
Devlin shook his head at his friend’s beliefs. Family, Miss Jones had said. How well he knew what the lack of one meant.
“You could always bring them to London,” Tony said, his frown showing he was in full agreement with Benny, this wasn’t his problem.
“Yes,” Devlin said with a chuckle. “I am sure that would go over so well.” A cold chill ran down his back at the thought of his world in London coming into contact with his three innocent wards.
The widows he knew would shudder at the mere thought of interacting with young children. As for the married women, well, he must be careful now, a scandal would hurt so many more than just the principles.
His friends continued to look at him as if he had become deranged.
“Ah, I see,” Benny said at last, as if he had been visited with a great epiphany. “It’s the governess. You want to chase after the governess. I must say Dev, that’s rather bad form. Not done you know. Bedding an employee, very bad form.
“Benny, do be quiet,” Devlin said. “It has nothing to do with Miss Jones. I said I would think about it. And, I will.
Tony, harrumphed as he took another drink. “It is always about beautiful woman. It always has been. And always will be.”
“You can be quiet too, Tony.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the Baron of Sudbury said with a smile.
Devlin sighed internally. His friends knew him too well.
Chapter Six
Rebecca stood in the old nursery, now the girls’ formal classroom, on the third floor. Pulling a curtain aside, she watched out the tall, thin window.
She had converted this room almost immediately upon arriving at Pine Crest. Painting the walls a soft yellow, putting up pretty lace curtains. Replacing those dreadful purple drapes. Remembering their ugliness made her shudder.
Each girl had her own desk. Aligned abreast, they faced her small desk in front. A fire burned low in the back of the room. Taking away that morning nip.
A map of Britain, rescued from the Duke’s Library, adorned the far wall. Several bookshelves were overflowing with more library prisoners. Yes, this was her room. The one place she felt in complete control.
Her favorite room. In all of the huge house, this was the one place she usually found comfort. But, not now. Now her stomach tumbled with worry.
Would he leave with his friends, or would he stay? He had still not said.
Rebecca tried not to grind her teeth. The man was infuriating. ‘He’d think about it’! he’d said. The girls needed him. How dare he dismiss it as a trifle to be considered at a later date?
Everything about the man was upsetting. From that silly smirk to his arrogant friends. From his soul piercing eyes to those wide shoulders. Every little thing seemed to set her nerves on edge. Like a cold winter wind.
Something about looking up into his handsome face did something deep inside of her. Let something loose. It was as if a new person had been awoken at her very core. Simply being in his presence made her mad.
She had come to realize that the most infuriating thing was the way that everything always seemed to go his way. No wonder he was so confident. He need never worry, need never fret about things going wrong.
It was that type of attitude that let him think it was perfectly acceptable to fail to let them know what he intended. A gentleman would have warned her so that she could prepare the girls. In fact, he should have the honor to tell the girls himself.
Rebecca lived her life by three simple rules. Honor, respect, and devotion to duty. Obviously, the new Duke didn’t.
Honor, do the right thing, no matter what. The example she set for her students was of paramount importance. She worried what the girls would learn from the Duke’s example. She shuddered to even think about it.
Respect. For others as well as herself. She feared that the Duke only thought of himself and his own pleasures.
Duty, doing whatever it took to ensure the well-being of her charges. It was his duty to stay with the family. At least at first. Couldn’t he see that?
Infuriating thoughts fought with flights of fancy as a thousand ideas danced through her head. What would it be like to be wanted by such a man? The thought made her grind her teeth. How could she allow herself to have such thoughts? The man would never value her. To him, she would always be but a servant. Someone to command and dismiss.
Yet.
She shook her head as she continued to peek out the window. A few days with the man and she was questioning her foundation. She silently chastised herself for being such a ninny. Men like that were not interested in women like her. And even if they were, it was for never more than a night.
And the thought that she was so bothered by him was troubling in and of itself. Remember who he is, she reminded herself. The man used and discarded women like last week’s newspaper.
Sighing, she focused once again on the gravel drive below. The big black carriage waited. The gold Hampton family crest on the side seemed to mock her. Reminding her of her lowly status. How dare she assume to tell a Duke of the realm what he should do? How dare she even think of being held in those arms?
He was destined for the balls and parlors of London. She could well imagine hundreds of Ladies more than willing to be held by the Duke of Hampton.
The thought was unsettling.
Glancing over her shoulder, she watched the girls for a moment. Worried that they might become aware of her agitation. Each of them was lost in their lessons though, oblivious to what was going on around them.
What would they think if he left? How would they feel? Abandoned once again. It would be her job to comfort them. To help them through it. Once more, she would be left to pick up the pieces.
James, the footman, suddenly jumped down from the back of the coach to open the carriage door. Three men stepped out of the house and down the front steps.
The Duke was easily recognizable. His height, his straight back. The commanding presence. Even from this far away the man seemed to radiate power and grace. She remembered what it was like to look up at him. The way it made her feel slight, feminine.
She held her breath as she waited to see what would happen. She had tried everything she knew to ensure that he would stay.
She’d kept the girls away from him, lest they upset him for some reason. When she had passed him in the hall, she had smiled demurely and looked down at her feet. As meek as a mouse.
When passing the study one morning, she had heard the three men arguing about where the best roast beef and Yorkshire pudding meal could be found. It had taken almost an hour of cajoling to convince the cook to change that night’s dinner.
Let him see what his staff could do, she thought.
The servants had grown tired of her queries about what they knew. Would he be staying or leaving? In their world, life was easier whenever the Duke was not in residence.
She had even approached the Duke’s valet, Mr. Michaels, to find out what he knew. She had simply asked if the Duke had mentioned whether he would be returning to London. And if nothing was known, maybe Mr. Michaels might ask the Duke what his intentions were.
The li
ttle man had acted as if she’d asked him to abscond with the Coronation Stone from beneath King George’s throne.
Nothing. No one knew for sure if he was leaving or staying.
Rebecca held her breath as she watched and waited.
At last, the three men halted before the carriage. They exchanged a few words, then reached out to shake hands. Simple goodbyes.
Rebecca sighed, he would be staying.
The thought sent a secret, silent, pleasure shooting through her. She knew the happiness wasn’t purely for the girls’ benefit. The truth be told, a part of her was exceptionally pleased.
Still, why did the man have to make such a drama out of everything? A simple word would have relieved her of days of worry. Couldn’t the man think of others?
Couldn’t the man think of her?
Chapter Seven
Devlin glanced at the stack of ledgers on the corner of his desk. Peterson, his agent, had left them that morning. It was enough to make a man want to return to London. He had always feared that a Duke’s life would be filled with such banal monotony. Now he knew it was true.
His thoughts wandered to Miss Jones. If not for her and her damn insistence about family and duty, he would be preparing for an evening at Madam DePaul’s, or perhaps a rendezvous with the beautiful Lady Sinclair.
Instead, it looked as if he would spend the rest of his life awash in numbers. Tracking such important things as how many pigs farmer Johnson produced. How many sacks of flour were milled? The cost of a new barn or bridge.
Not for the first time, he silently cursed his cousin for falling from his horse. The least the previous Duke could have done, would be to die in his bed at the age of ninety. It would have made everyone’s life so much easier.
Oh, for the carefree days of youth.
Sighing to himself, he sat down and pulled the first tome off the top of the pile. The large ledger book smelled of old leather and aging glue. He hefted it in his hand, it felt like a heavy weight on his soul. His head ached from the mere thought of tackling all of those numbers.
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