Dunsaney's Desire (Historical Romance)

by Brianna York

  “That sounds wonderful,” he replied, smiling his usual vaguely feral smile.

  “Well, then, let’s go inside.” Matthew gestured toward the house.

  Once inside, Alex led the small party into the sitting room and sent Milton for tea. “Please do take a seat,” she said to the small party.

  Dartmoor followed the Squire and his wife into the room and joined them in taking a seat upon the fragile looking furniture surrounding the tea table. He had tried not to goggle at the outlandish wealth that Matthew’s house displayed so comfortably, but he had caught Lady Alexandra staring at him with one of her knowing half-smiles. It was unthinkable that this man, who had so much, should be allowed to steal things from those who were defenseless. His jaw clenched as he thought of his family home. To the Duke it was merely a lesser property where he housed his precious horseflesh. To Dartmoor, it was the only hope he had left for prosperity and security.

  Matthew crossed the room and sprawled comfortably into a chair beside the sofa that the ladies were seated on. He enjoyed the Squire and his wife because they were not citified in the least. He never felt like apologizing for his attire or the dirt on his boots, or any of the other petty, silly strictures that high society imposed on one. Or for his dogs, he thought to himself as Sampson, Charles and Ophelia trotted into the room to accost the guests with eager attention.

  Sampson trotted over to greet Dartmoor as he made his customary circuit of the room. Dartmoor retreated so quickly from the dog that he nearly tipped over in his chair. He stifled a curse as Matthew snapped his fingers to call the dog away. He found that he did not like the slightly ironic and contemptuous look that Matthew gave him. “I take it that you do not have dogs, Mr. Dartmoor. Forgive me for allowing mine such free range of the house.”

  Dartmoor waved his hand impatiently at that. “It is nothing.” Matthew exchanged a look with the Squire before clearing his throat and changing the subject.

  Margaret did not hear this small discussion amongst the men because Alex was telling her all about a new dress that she was having made. She answered Alex dutifully, but half of her attention was focused on Matthew. Her husband was a good man, kind and hard-working and honest, but Matthew was all of that and much more. There was a secretive part of her that wished that she were ten years younger and half as pretty as Alex. Then maybe, she might have caught Matthew’s eye. She did not lust for Matthew’s money or the powerful title of Duchess in the least. Rather, she was attracted to the simple power of his movements and the expressive play of emotions that flitted across his face when he spoke. Even though she knew that when he looked at her he saw a simple dowdy Squire’s wife, there was something in the way he listened to what she said that made her feel like she was important and special to him. In the midst of her reverie, Matthew turned to her.

  “Have you enjoyed the city this last week, Lady Danbrook?” He asked, his golden eyes inviting her response almost eagerly.

  She knew that he cared not in the least what she thought of the city, that he was simply trying to include her, but she secretly glowed. “How many times must I remind you that my name is Margaret?” she asked of him.

  Matthew smiled slightly and inclined his head. “Margaret it is.”

  She nodded with quiet satisfaction. “I fear that I am not a city girl, Your Grace. It takes but one day in town for me to be homesick for the country.”

  “How many times must I remind you that my name is Matthew?” Matthew countered, causing Margaret to blush softly.

  “Yes, of course....Matthew,” she answered. The Squire had seen Matthew do this to his wife before, and it made him feel rather inadequate in the same way that Alex made Margaret feel overshadowed. If the two had ever compared notes, they probably would have had a good laugh over the similarity of their feelings.

  When the tea arrived, Alex set about serving it in her brisk and yet mannerly way which bespoke the elegant upbringing of her class. Dartmoor sipped at his tea and attempted not to feel completely out of his depth. He was beginning to comprehend exactly how difficult the task that he had set before his sister was going to be. He knew he must thank the heavens that his sister had been blessed with such a fair face to compliment her intelligence and steadiness. He thought he knew the Duke well enough now to know that one without the other would not succeed in capturing and holding his attention.

  “Well, I hate to break off such a lovely morning,” the Squire said into a small lull in the conversation. He pulled his pocket watch from his vest coat pocket and consulted it. “I have some business that wants attending to before we set out for the country again.”

  Matthew and Alex rose in tandem. “That’s a shame,” Matthew said, helping Margaret to her feet. “I do wish that we could coerce you two into staying in the city for another week.”

  Margaret and the Squire exchanged a rather secretive smile before the Squire replied. “I hate to disappoint you, Matthew, but we really do need to get back home.”

  It was Alex and Matthew’s turn to exchange smiles that spoke volumes. The group had reached the door, and Alex and Margaret hugged each other. “I shall stop by sometime in the next two weeks,” the Squire promised Matthew, offering his hand. “You’re a magician with a horse, m’boy.”

  Matthew smiled with pleasure and pumped the Squire’s hand a bit. “In two weeks then.”

  Alex and her brother waved goodbye to their guests until they were out of sight. “They are almost too nice to be real people,” Alex said to her brother.

  Matthew quirked a brow at her. “Maybe we’re the ones who aren’t real people. Ever think of that?” Alex did not reply, but she smiled.

  “Oh, you seem real enough to me,” Dartmoor told them, reaching for his coat and hat.

  Matthew’s eyes narrowed a bit, but the rest of his expression remained serene. “I assume that you shall let me know whether you wish to purchase a breeding to the Danbrook’s stallion by the end of the week?

  Dartmoor nodded. “You shall.” He turned to Alex with what she supposed he must fancy to be an inviting smile. “Lovely to see you again,” he said smoothly to her.

  “Likewise,” Alex said a bit tepidly, her amused eyes finding her brother’s. Matthew’s lip quirked in reply to the suppressed laughter in his sister’s face, but he managed not to laugh aloud until Dartmoor had left the house.

  “Oh what a pompous, strutting ass,” Matthew announced.

  Alex chuckled. “He is that.” Then she sobered. “Matthew, you may call me silly, but I do not like Dartmoor’s sudden interest in our lives. I think that he may be curious for a specific reason.”

  He quirked a brow at her. “Such as?”

  She sighed and knotted her fingers together. “I am not sure. But he gives me a bad feeling. It’s almost like he’s spying on us.”

  Matthew laughed at that. “Oh come now, Alex! Why ever would he wish to spy on us?”

  She frowned thoughtfully. “I always get the feeling that he wants something that we have.”

  Matthew ceased to laugh, but his expression remained ironic. “If it will make you feel better, I will promise to keep an eye on him.”

  She smiled gently and nodded. “It will make me feel better.”

  “Consider it done,” he answered. Then suddenly, “Have I ever told you that you are capable of the quickest wardrobe change in the history of high society? One minute you were masquerading as a stable boy, the next, you were the paragon Incomparable that all of society dreams one day to be. How do you manage it?”

  Alex crooked her finger at her brother, inviting him to lean closer. He did as he was bade and she whispered throatily in his ear, “Magic.”

  Matthew laughed. “I’ll believe that. I can’t explain it to satisfaction any other way.” He placed a hand on the small of his sister’s back and guided her toward his study. They stepped into the dark blue and mahogany room and Alex went to stare out the window at the street below. The study was the darkest room in the house, due in part to its
decor, but also to some inexplicably somber quality that no amount of light could shake from its confines. Matthew loved this room the best, however, because the presence of his father lingered in every corner, in each piece of furniture, in the very pictures that hung on the walls. It was to the study that Matthew went when his thoughts needed straightening out, or when he needed to escape the rest of the world for a little while. Alex was one of the few people Matthew allowed in the room on a regular basis.

  “I always feel like Geoffrey is right here with us when we are in this room,” she said abruptly, echoing Matthew’s thoughts uncannily.

  He nodded. “Father was always holed up in here, going over the books, or stewing about some investment possibility. Sometimes he would let me spend an afternoon with him in here while he worked on the books or other important paperwork. Even though I was required to sit quietly and read or watch the street, those are some of the most fond memories of my childhood. Now, whenever I feel like I cannot see the forest through the trees, I come here and sit quietly and think about the past and wait for the answers to come to me.” He smiled gently, his eyes a trifle distant.

  Alex nodded. “When mother was gone, he stepped in and filled her place in a way that most fathers could never do.” She longed for a memory of her mother, but Katharine Hargreve had died just one day after giving birth and Alex was left only with her father’s stories of her and the portrait that hung in the gallery.

  Matthew nodded, his eyes warm. “It is nice to have someone to share father with.” There was a knock on the door then, and the quiet spell of memory broke. “Come in,” Matthew called, perching on the edge of his desk expectantly.

  Milton entered the room on silent, efficient butler’s feet. He had a silver salver in his hand heavily laden with stationary and cards. “I hate to trouble you, Your Grace” he said. “But I assumed that you would like to go over the invitations and cards from the past two days.”

  “Thank you for reminding me, Milton,” Matthew answered him. He looked balefully at the huge pile of letters and calling cards as Milton set the tray on his desk, then bowed out of the room in the same silent manner with which he had entered it.

  “I’ll go through that,” Alex offered, seating herself in her brother’s leather chair behind the desk.

  “Thank you,” Matthew said with relief. “I despise keeping up with my correspondence and sorting invites.”

  They settled into a companionable silence for a while, the lack of sound broken only by the gentle whisper of paper as Alex sorted and stacked. “I cannot imagine trying to attend even half of the balls and other events that you receive invitations to every day.”

  “Why do you think I avoid the mail like the plague?” Matthew answered. He received only silence in return. “Alex? Is something wrong?” He walked over to his desk and looked down at the letter in his sister’s hands. She looked up at him with an odd expression on her face, then handed the envelope to her brother.

  The scent that wafted up to him as his fingers brushed against the smooth, creamy stationary was unmistakable. With some trepidation, he turned the envelope over to look at the seal that held it closed. His heart sank suddenly at the familiar seal. Pressed firmly and neatly into the golden wax was an ornate and fanciful ‘E’. Sighing, Matthew broke his mother’s personal seal and opened the stiffly-folded stationary.

  Dearest Matthew,

  I hope this letter finds you in good health and fine spirits. As you have no doubt noted, it has been nearly a year since your brother and I paid you a visit. This letter shall therefore serve as a notice of our arrival on the sixteenth of the month in the mid-afternoon. Hopefully you will have a suitable amount of time to prepare. The length of our visit, I would prefer to leave up to fortune and fate. Until the sixteenth -

  With Love,

  Your mother

  “Visiting me...”he murmured to himself, raking a hand through his hair in absent-minded annoyance. “I haven’t seen her or my brother in over two years.” He paced to the window and stared down at the relatively quiet street, his thoughts churning with poorly-restrained emotions.

  Alex watched her brother’s stark profile for a few minutes, then rose and joined him at the window. She disengaged the stiff parchment from her brother’s clenched fingers and quietly read Emmeline’s brief note. When she was done, she re-folded the letter and tapped it against her palm thoughtfully. “Hmm,” she murmured before bustling suddenly out of the room.

  At her sudden movement, Matthew started out of his anger-induced trance. “What the...? Alex? What are you doing? Alex?” He called after her. Belatedly, he pushed away from the wall and followed her into the front hall. “Alex?”

  “Yes?” she replied absent-mindedly in his direction. “Milton! Dobbs!” she shouted nearly at the top of her lungs.

  Matthew winced at the strength of her voice. “Has anyone ever told you that you would have made an excellent field-marshal?”

  Alex ignored him entirely, shouting again for Dobbs and Milton. “Honestly, Matthew!” she said to him. “How do you manage to keep such unruly servants on task? I am amazed that anything gets done in this house at all!”

  “Lady Alexandra?” Dobb’s voice preceded him as he scrambled down the stairs. “Is the house on fire?”

  Alex blinked in momentary confusion. “Of course not. What would ever have made you think such a thing?” Dobbs wanted to point out that her shouting had probably upset the whole neighborhood, but he knew his place better than that. He glanced at his employer, but Matthew only shrugged.

  “Where is that butler of yours?” Alex demanded of Matthew. She paced the length of the foyer and then back before peering up the stairs impatiently. She sighed, rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to shout again.

  “That’s enough bellowing,” Matthew told her quickly. “Milton?” he called more sedately than his sister.

  “Yes, Matthew?” Milton materialized as if by magic.

  “I thought a softer touch would be more beneficial in this instance,” Matthew whispered to his sister. “Actually, it was Alex who was attempting to summon you,” Matthew informed his butler, knowing full well that Milton would have heard Alex’s bellow no matter where he was in the house. “Go ahead Alex,” he told her, rocking back and forth on his heels.

  Alex, still miffed by Milton’s disobedience, stared at the butler and the valet for a long moment. Then, “I shall be brief, you two. Matthew’s mother and brother are due in...” she broke off to glance at the grandfather clock to their left, “Probably about two hours. That means that not only do two rooms need to be aired and cleaned, but the rest of the house needs attention as well.” Noting the disbelieving looks on Dobbs and Milton’s faces, she added, “I know that you would sorely hate to disappoint Matthew’s mother.” The merest mention of Emmeline Hargreve had the two servants bustling off to gather the other help. Once they were gone, Alex turned to her brother with a slightly smug look of satisfaction on her face.

  “Thank you, sister,” Matthew said to her, one brow quirked. “I think you are being a little ambitious, however. This is rather a large house to clean in two hours time.”

  Alex smiled. “Must you be such a pessimist?” she inquired, one brow arched a bit scornfully. “Shall we go get started on those bedrooms?”

  “Lead on,” he answered, bowing slightly to her.

  Seven

  “D

  o I look all right?” Alex asked pensively, staring into the tiny round mirror set into the coat rack in the front hall.

  “You look smashing,” Robert assured her, brushing lint off his coat sleeves. Forrest, Marcus and Rob had been summoned hastily in an effort to try and diffuse Emmeline Hargreve’s malice.

  “I dare that nasty old harpy to find fault with you,” Forrest contributed.

  Alex turned away from the mirror to smile gently at him. She was fast becoming used to too much flattery and she rarely took a compliment to heart anymore. However, when Forrest said something comp
limentary to her, there was a tone to his voice that conveyed to her quite forcefully the sincerity behind his words. “You can be certain that she’ll try,” she told him honestly. “I care more about your opinion, trust me.”

  Forrest tried not to look foolish, but Alex had that effect on him occasionally. He knew that he was staring overlong, but he couldn’t seem to come up with a suitable reply. She must have sensed his indecision, because she reached out and caught his hand. She squeezed it gently and nodded.

  “Is everyone here?” Matthew came hurrying down the stairs then, breaking the trance that held Alex and Forrest in thrall. He pushed between Alex and Forrest in order to check his appearance in the mirror. Away from Alex, Forrest realized he had been holding his breath and he hurriedly caught it. Shaken up, he pretended to be absorbed in brushing off his lapels.

  “I appreciate you all coming on such short notice,” Matthew said. “I would have given you more time to prepare, but I did not read my mother’s letter until two hours ago.”

  “Shall we go into the sitting room?” Alex suggested. “You look fine, Matthew, quit fussing.”

  He appeared not to have heard her, fiddling with his cravat and pulling on his shirt points. Alex rolled her eyes, and shoved at her brother. He glared at her momentarily, then relented and preceded her into the sitting room.

  “Milton,” she called over her shoulder. She watched idly as her brother paced the length of the room back and forth in open agitation.

  “Yes Lady Alexandra?” Milton said stiffly as he entered the room.

  “Bring us tea and some sandwiches,” Alex said, turning toward the butler’s voice.

  “Surely, Lady Alexandra,” Milton replied with dignity before withdrawing from the room.

  Forrest was fairly certain that it had been years since he had seen his friend so upset. As he watched Matthew pace from one side of the room to the other, he acknowledged for the first time that his friend was a bit afraid of his mother. He was not even sure if Matthew could admit something of that magnitude to himself, let alone to anyone else.