Forever My Duke--Unlikely Duchesses

by Olivia Drake

  How peculiar to admit that. For all of his adult life, he had been accustomed to being the one in charge. To having people behave with deference toward him. It wasn’t something he demanded of anyone, it simply was. Those beneath his rank asked his opinions and yielded to his decisions. They bowed or curtsied to show their respect.

  Except Natalie. She alone refused to pander to him. Her disregard for convention had disarmed and intrigued him.

  Perhaps that explained why he’d confided in her today. From any other woman, such personal questions would have earned a frosty stare from him. Instead, he’d blurted out truths about his childhood that he’d never before revealed to anyone else. Memories such as the lack of toys in the nursery. Being separated at the age of five from his mother and sister. His pony Mud that he hadn’t thought about in years. At least he’d had the sense not to mention the part about crying himself to sleep for a week after Mud had been sold.

  Natalie had listened closely and then apologized for misjudging him. But she had not backed down about him buying a pony for Leo. Although Hadrian hated to admit it, she was probably right about the wisdom of rewarding the boy for bad behavior. But damn it, he didn’t want Audrey’s son to be deprived of the joys of childhood as he himself had been.

  Wait. Had he been deprived? Natalie couldn’t be right about that, too, when he’d convinced himself otherwise.

  “Pray leave us,” Lord Godwin said.

  Jolted out of his reverie, Hadrian realized the earl was addressing his son. Wymark lounged in his chair, a nosy expression on his narrow features. “Is this about my sister? Is there to be an announcement forthcoming?”

  “Out,” the earl repeated, more sharply this time. “I’d like a private word with His Grace. What we choose to discuss is no concern of yours.”

  “Fine. I’ll go, then.” Rising, Wymark grabbed his wine goblet and saluted Hadrian with it. Clearly tipsy, he swayed as he sauntered out of the room, pausing to throw over his shoulder, “Better get the ring on her finger quickly, Clayton, before the other fellows see her!”

  A flush of disapproval tinted Godwin’s cheeks, a contrast to his graying fair hair. Dismissing the footman, he picked up the crystal decanter and poured two glasses, pushing one toward Hadrian. “I apologize for the lad. He can be a trial at times, especially when he’s in his cups.”

  “No harm done.” Hadrian took a sip of the rich, ruby wine. His father’s cousin might be a pinchpenny, but he kept a decent cellar. “This port can make up for anything.”

  Godwin held up his glass to the light from the candelabrum on the table. “It is a beauty, isn’t it? My last bottle of this vintage.”

  They discussed the merits of several varieties of Spanish and Portuguese grapes before the earl said, “If I may, I would like to confer with you on the matter that Richard mentioned. I’m anxious to know your intentions toward my daughter, now that you’ve seen her for the first time in some years. Does she meet with your approval?”

  Hadrian had anticipated the question although he was not entirely ready to answer it. “Lady Ellen is a well-mannered young lady. One cannot deny she has all the qualities to make an excellent duchess.” He paused, then decided to be blunt. “However, I have my doubts as to whether or not she wishes to fill that role.”

  “Ellen can be bashful at times. She is only eighteen, after all, and newly out of the schoolroom.” Godwin frowned as if frustrated. “But I can testify that she’s usually a more lively girl. Perhaps being confronted by a man of your stature has frightened her into silence.”

  “That may be so,” Hadrian agreed noncommittally.

  He glanced down into his glass, swirling the port and wondering at his vague sense of reluctance. He was making a grand alliance, not a love match, and Lady Ellen adequately filled his requirements. She had been trained since birth in how to manage a nobleman’s household. As for her shyness, that surely would resolve itself in time. Hadn’t he already decided, anyway, that he wanted a woman who wasn’t too chatty or opinionated? He had no intention of spending the rest of his life shackled to a wife who would give him no peace.

  But meeting Natalie had thrown that prerequisite into question. She was most definitely chatty and opinionated, yet he’d very much relished talking with her. They’d shared the repartee of friendship, a valuable commodity he’d only ever found with his male friends. Strange as it might seem, he felt more alive in her presence. Their closeness of minds and souls made no logical sense considering they’d known each other for only a scant few days. And the hell of it was that he could have conversed with her for hours.

  At least he’d thought so until the moment when they had bantered about Leo’s pony. He had brought her hand to his lips for a playful kiss, gazed into her sparkling green eyes, only to be rocked by an irresistible rush of desire. Her softened features and slightly parted lips assured him that the passion was mutual. In that mad moment, he had been sorely tempted to lay her down in the grass and damn the consequences …

  Godwin cleared his throat. “I do hope we can come to a satisfactory agreement on this matter.”

  Matter? It took Hadrian a moment to recapture the direction of their discussion. Ellen. Marriage. His own qualms.

  “It might be best to allow Lady Ellen to enjoy her first season unencumbered by a fiancé,” he said tactfully. “Let her experience society, where she can have the chance to hone her conversational skills and gain her confidence. Rushing her will only make her unhappy.”

  Godwin grimaced. “I take your point. However, let us not forget that it was your late father’s wish—and mine—that our families be joined in a closer bond. A pity things did not work out quite as we’d intended back then.”

  “Because of Audrey.” A dormant anger awakening in him, Hadrian leaned forward to study the harsh lines of that aristocratic face, the man he had once feared to disappoint as a boy. “You haven’t spoken her name in the past ten years. Don’t you think it’s high time that you did?”

  The earl stared stonily at him. “She cut herself out of our lives. It was her mistake, not mine.”

  “It was a decision, not necessarily a mistake. One you should have respected and accepted. She might have stayed in England, then, and never died in that massacre.” His throat thickening, Hadrian shook his head. “And just so you know, I wouldn’t have courted Audrey, anyway. Not so long as she loved another man.”

  “Love! She had a duty to marry well. She let this family down.”

  “She let you down. Because of a bargain she’d had no part in making.”

  Nor had Lady Ellen or himself, he reflected. That was why he’d never coerce the girl if she was unwilling. In truth, the arrangement between their fathers was beginning to leave a bad taste in his mouth, making him question his own judgment.

  “It’s all water under the bridge now.” Godwin tossed back the rest of his port. “There’s no need to speak of it anymore.”

  “Yes, we do need to speak of it. Audrey’s son is in this house at this very moment, up in the nursery. And you have a chance to make things right by accepting Leo as your rightful grandson.”

  The earl glanced away, his jaw tight. “I will rely on the advice of my solicitor. Musgrave is an excellent man of the law. He should arrive in a day or two.”

  Frowning at that stubborn face, Hadrian strove for calm. The earl had had a decade in which to harden his heart against his eldest daughter, and it wouldn’t be easily softened. Besides, Hadrian had seen something flicker in those blue eyes. A shadow of pain that gave him hope that all was not lost.

  And if things didn’t work out?

  By God, he would not allow Leo to bear the brunt of his grandfather’s acrimony. Natalie was right, the boy did remind him of himself at that age, alone and bewildered, grieving for his father and denied the comfort of his mother. Leo’s situation was that much worse, considering Godwin’s reluctance to acknowledge the child.

  “What if your solicitor has no clear answer?” Hadrian asked. “H
ow familiar is he with foreign documents?”

  “We shall find out soon enough.”

  “But what would you do in such an instance? You cannot abandon the boy after Miss Fanshawe endured an ocean voyage to bring him to you.”

  “Miss Fanshawe.” The earl’s gaze sharpened. “That reminds me. This afternoon, Priscilla saw you with her from the window of my study. The two of you were seated together beneath a tree.”

  Hadrian restrained a curse. Though he’d done nothing wrong, it irked him to know that the countess had been spying on a private moment. “I walked back with her from the stables. We were enjoying a bit of sunshine while Leo played on the lawn.”

  “Is that all? My wife noticed a decidedly cozy manner between you two.”

  “Cozy?”

  “Yes, you were seen kissing Miss Fanshawe’s hand. Good God, Clayton. One would think you’d have the sense to show more discretion. Keep a mistress if you like, but don’t seduce her under my roof. I won’t have my innocent daughter exposed to your dalliances.”

  Hadrian’s glower turned icy. He clenched his jaw to keep from lashing out and throttling the man. Never in all his years of living here had he ever felt such a cold fury toward his former guardian.

  He shot to his feet. “And I won’t tolerate slurs cast at Miss Fanshawe. She was your daughter’s friend, and her moral character is beyond reproach. You should be thankful that your grandson was entrusted to her care, but instead, you’re too mired in your own bitterness.”

  Hadrian sent one last glare at Godwin’s startled face before turning on his heel to stride out of the dining room. It was either depart the man’s company, or do something he might later regret.

  * * *

  In the shadowy nursery, Natalie opened the door to the room opposite hers. She tiptoed to the cot in the corner and held up her lamp so that its golden glow fell upon Leo. He lay curled on his side beneath the blankets, his tawny hair mussed, his eyes closed in childish innocence. The toy cavalryman that he’d been holding had fallen to the rug, so she picked it up, placing it on the table beside his bed.

  Her heart squeezed. How she dreaded the time when she would have to depart! Alas, that day was fast approaching.

  Lord Godwin’s solicitor had been summoned from London, though no one seemed to know exactly when he might arrive. It comforted her to think that even once Leo’s papers were verified, she would still have a little more time left with him. A new governess would need to be hired through an agency in the city. Natalie would happily fill the post herself even though it would mean delaying her plan to open a school in Philadelphia. But she knew the Earl of Godwin would never permit his grandson to be taught by an American.

  That meant she might have only a week or two more with Leo. She intended to treasure every moment of it. But was she doing the right thing to leave him here with a family that resented his very existence?

  The troublesome worry had kept her awake. She had tossed and turned in her bed for well over an hour before deciding to head down to the kitchen for a glass of warm milk. With the nursery maid sleeping in the next room, Leo should be perfectly safe.

  Natalie quietly closed his door and wended a path through the darkened schoolroom. The chill in the air made her glad for her old woolen robe. As she descended the steep staircase used by the servants, the feeble light of the lamp barely penetrated the gloomy shaft.

  It must be near midnight. The house felt as still as a tomb, the silence broken only by the faint scuffle of her footsteps. The eerie atmosphere raised prickles over her skin, but it wasn’t ghosts that she feared.

  Rather, it was the notion of Leo growing up in such an oppressive place, deprived of affection as Hadrian had been. The duke had not precisely said that he’d yearned for love as a little boy, but she could read between the lines.

  Having met Lord Godwin, she could well imagine him to be a cold, forbidding guardian. Hadrian would have received no warmth from a stiff-necked man who had sold even a child’s treasured pony. Was it any wonder that the duke wanted to indulge Leo?

  The boy had been remarkably well behaved for the rest of the day, talking nonstop about the promised pony. Natalie had decided to subdue her objections. If Hadrian wished to present such a magnificent gift to his young relative, then she had no right to stop him.

  After all, Leo had entered a world of privilege. As the grandson of an earl, he would be educated in the best schools and take his place someday among the aristocratic elite. The land of his birth, the parents who had loved him, the woman who had brought him across the ocean, would fade to distant memories.

  She swallowed past the lump in her throat. At least Hadrian seemed interested in being a father figure in Leo’s life. But did the duke truly mean to visit Oak Knoll more often? Having been raised with a natural cynicism toward the nobility, she dared not make any assumptions. Especially since he’d given her reason to suspect there was another motive for him to seek their company.

  He desired her.

  Nearly missing one of the wooden steps, Natalie clutched at the newel post to steady herself. How absurd to feel so addled over an English duke. They were as far apart as the moon and the sun. Nevertheless, her heart beat faster as she dwelled on the memory of him holding her hand to his lips. The hunger in his eyes had been intense and unmistakable.

  He wanted to bed her.

  She reminded herself of what her father had once told her, that English aristocrats sought their pleasure from women of the lower orders. Seduction would mean ruin for her, while the Duke of Clayton walked away with his reputation intact. That was why there could never be anything between them beyond a tenuous friendship.

  As she entered the cavernous kitchen, a glow came from the banked fire in the massive hearth while the rest of the chamber lay in darkness. She held up the candle and headed into the larder. There, the shelves held a variety of foodstuffs that gave off a delicious aroma: hams and sausages, preserves and pickles, sweets and spices. More pungent scents came from the bundles of dried herbs that hung from the ceiling.

  After a short hunt, she located a canister of cold milk and poured a measure into a small saucepan. The handle felt a bit loose, but she didn’t want to dirty anything larger. She set the pot onto a trivet over the grate and added a pinch of cinnamon and sugar. Using the fire iron, she poked at the glowing embers. Flames licked upward, radiating heat that warmed her chilly hands. As she stirred the milk with a spoon, Natalie felt cheered by the blaze and comforted by the familiar aroma of cinnamon.

  The simple pleasure of performing a familiar task brought back memories of life in the American wilderness where she had learned to cook out of necessity. Though it wasn’t her greatest skill, she had taken pride in the challenge of creating nourishing meals for herself and Audrey’s little family.

  Leaving the milk to heat, she walked past the long worktable toward a shelf that held crockery mugs and dishes designated for the servants. She would sip her relaxing drink, then return to bed. She would try to have faith that the situation with Leo would work out …

  The sudden creak of wood broke the silence.

  Startled, she spun toward the deeply shadowed corner from which the noise had emanated. A large black form separated itself from the gloom.

  Chapter 12

  Like a bear emerging from a cave, the hulking shape stepped into the light of the fire. The nape of her neck prickled. She knew that crudely chiseled face with its crooked nose and leering smile, the mop of curly dark hair.

  Lord Wymark’s groom, Bert.

  Clad in a homespun shirt and brown trousers, the man stared at her, his avid gaze lingering on her robed figure. “’Evenin’, miss. Ye’re up late.”

  Natalie grasped the lapels of her wrapper, wishing she had a knife in her pocket. She took several breaths to calm her surging heartbeat. It wouldn’t do to show fright, so she raised an eyebrow and glared at him. “Why did you not make your presence known at once? Why were you hiding in the shadows?”

&n
bsp; “I was here first. Ain’t my fault ye didn’t see me.”

  “You oughtn’t be in the house so late at night.” The grooms slept in the stables. Although unfamiliar with customs in grand English homes, she took a guess and added, “The door was locked, so you must have broken in.”

  Bert shrugged as he brushed a few crumbs off his wrinkled shirt. “A little jiggle of the handle, that’s all. Needed a midnight snack. And ’twould seem I got more of a treat than I intended.”

  As he sauntered toward her, the lust in his dark eyes unleashed an avalanche of ice down her spine. They were isolated here in the cellars. Most of the servants slept up in the attic, and the housekeeper and cook had quarters at the other end of the corridor.

  They were too far away to hear her scream.

  Natalie edged back, hoping to put the worktable between the two of them. The knives must be in one of the many drawers, though she didn’t know which one. If she attempted to search, he would be on her in a moment.

  What else would serve as a weapon? The fire iron. It must be behind her, for she remembered propping it against the hearth.

  Pretending a confidence that went only skin-deep, she said coolly, “If you value your position here, you’ll keep your distance. I won’t hesitate to inform Lord Wymark of any uncouth behavior.”

  “Now, what’ve I done? There ain’t no law against admirin’ a pretty lady.” Judging by his smirk, Bert appeared to enjoy stalking her as she retreated. “His lordship won’t mind, anyhow. He said ye’ve been livin’ with savages in America. Ever laid with one?”

  His denigration of her character was infuriating enough, but worse was his belittling of the Shawnee natives. She had encountered many good, kind people who traded animal skins and dried meat in exchange for various goods. They’d smiled and used gestures when she couldn’t understand their broken English. She had been studying their dialect in the weeks before the massacre had changed everything.