A New Home for the Duke: A Regency Romance: The Returned Lords of Grosvenor Square (Book 4)

by Pearson, Rose

  Jenny held John’s gaze for a long moment until the boy looked away. There had been a note of uncertainty in his voice that had betrayed him. He was trying to be strong in the face of his sister’s sadness, Jenny realized. He was trying to convince himself that their father simply was too tired and overcome from his journey to greet them with the happiness and the joy that he had hoped for.

  “Mary,” Jenny said, as softly as she could, hating to see the little girl so upset. She felt a little at a loss as to how to comfort her, her heart aching for the child. “Your father needs to rest and recover. He will be more than glad to see you once he has done so, I am quite sure.”

  “He did not even greet us,” Mary sobbed, dropping her hands to her lap and looking at Jenny with wide, tear-filled eyes. “Why did he not so much as bid us good morning?”

  Jenny swallowed hard, knowing that she needed to reassure the child as best as she could but found that she had very little idea of what she was to say. “As your brother has identified, he is still struggling with the effects of being at sea for a prolonged length of time,” she lied. “Even I found it difficult to understand him when he spoke. I know that he wishes to see you both once he has recovered.”

  Mary sniffed three times and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Her tears slowly abated as she looked steadily back at Jenny, as though trying to decide whether or not she was telling the truth.

  “Are you certain?” she asked, her voice quavering. “Is that what he said?”

  “Of course,” Jenny lied again, smiling brightly at Mary. “Just give your father some time to recover and he will be quite himself again. I know you have not seen him for some time and that you will be glad to have him here with us.”

  Blinking hard, Mary’s lower lip trembled as she nodded. “He sent us away after mama….” She did not manage to say the final words, closing her eyes as another stream of tears began to trickle down her cheeks.

  “I know,” Jenny replied, her heart aching for this sorrowful child. “It must have been a very difficult time for you both.”

  “You will not leave us,” Mary said quickly, opening her eyes and staring at Jenny with something akin to desperation. “Even if Father asks you to go, you will not do so, will you?”

  Startled by the child’s fervor and certainly wanting to reassure her as much as could, Jenny reached out and took Mary’s hand in her own, squeezing it gently.

  “I shall not leave you,” she promised, fervently. “I told you from the first day that I had no intention of being chased away, did I not?” She smiled broadly and saw, to her relief, that Mary smiled back, albeit a little tentatively. “I shall not be chased away by you, nor your brother and nor your father. I have every intention to remain here as your governess for as long as you need me.”

  Mary swallowed hard and nodded.

  “But I must ask you this,” Jenny continued, allowing a little sternness to creep into her voice. “I must ask you to begin to consider your behavior. It has been very difficult for not only me but for the staff here who care for you.” She let go of Mary’s hand and peered into her eyes, surprised to see a touch of guilt flickering in the child’s face. “You have not chosen to behave well and to do as you are asked. I am aware that you wish to see your father and that you are eager for his attention, but he will not be inclined to give it to you if you continue to act in the way you have been these last few weeks. Do I make myself quite clear?”

  Mary did not say a word for some moments. Instead, she kept her head bowed, her lips thinning and a look of stubbornness creeping over her features. Jenny held her breath, wondering if she had asked for too much, but knowing that she needed to press her advantage.

  “Very well.”

  The words seemed to be dragged from Mary’s lips, coming towards Jenny unwillingly. Flooded with relief, Jenny smiled gently in Mary’s direction, aware of just how difficult it must have been for her to say that, but glad that she had done so regardless.

  “John?”

  Turning her head, she rose to her feet and gave John a long look – but the boy did not respond. Instead, he turned his head away and set both elbows on the desk in front of him, clearly unwilling to say anything that might come across as an agreement. Jenny did not urge him to respond, did not ask him to say anything more, realizing that John required more time than his sister to consider his actions and how they might now affect things within the house.

  “Now, I must go to the kitchens for a few minutes,” she said, pressing Mary’s shoulder gently. “I see you have not eaten your honey cakes as yet. Why not do so now? I will be back shortly and can bring you a few more delicacies from the larder.” She saw Mary smile and felt her heart cheered. “Although I would ask you to remain within for the moment.”

  John gave a jerky nod, although he did not look at Jenny. Mary agreed to do as Jenny had asked and began to eat her honey cakes with gusto – much to Jenny’s relief. She had recovered herself rather quickly and, whilst Jenny hated lying to Mary regarding the Duke’s conduct, she had thought it rather unwise to speak badly of His Grace in front of his own children. What she must do now, therefore, is speak honestly to the Duke and ensure that he did, in fact, greet his children with the warmth and gladness they were expecting.

  A knot formed in her stomach as she made her way along the hallway towards the servants’ stairs. She did not particularly relish the idea of having to speak to the Duke privately, for fear of what he might do or say.

  “You there.”

  A loud voice made her jump, and she turned at once to see the Duke leaning heavily against the doorframe of what she knew to be his bedchamber. She had to walk past it to get to the staircase.

  “Your Grace,” she murmured, not certain whether she should linger or force herself to continue. “Good morning.”

  The sound of scurrying footsteps caught her ears and she turned to see Mrs. Blaine hurrying towards her, having not seen the Duke.

  “Mrs. Blaine!”

  The Duke’s shout made Mrs. Blaine squeal with fright, and, with one hand on her heart, she turned her head and stared at him, backing away towards Jenny.

  “Mrs. Blaine, who is this?” the Duke asked, indicating Jenny with a flick of his hand. “I do not know her.”

  Mrs. Blaine swallowed hard. “This is Miss Edgington, Your Grace,” she said, her voice high pitched with fright. “The governess.”

  “I see.” The Duke’s eyes rested lazily on Jenny again and, for whatever reason, she felt her skin crawl with displeasure. “Come here, Miss Edgington.” He crooked one finger and beckoned her towards him. Jenny felt herself recoil inwardly.

  “Yes, Your Grace?” she asked, taking only two steps nearer and standing far enough away from him so that he could not reach out and grasp her. Given the unsteadiness of his feet, she was quite certain that he could not easily walk towards her.

  The Duke frowned. “Keep those children far from me, Miss Edgington,” he stated, darkly, his tone changing as he spoke. “I do not wish to see them.”

  Jenny’s stomach tightened, her hands curling into fists as she fought to contain her anger. “You shall have to greet your own children, Your Grace,” she stated, firmly, not even thinking of agreeing to his request. “Mayhap tomorrow, when you are a trifle recovered.”

  The Duke’s frown darkened and he glared at her, although he said nothing. Jenny did not apologize for what she had said, nor did she change her mind, knowing that both Mary and John needed to feel welcomed by their father.

  “You are quite stubborn, Mrs. Edgington.”

  “Miss Edgington,” she corrected, tipping her head a little to the left. “I am determined, yes, Your Grace, and I make no apology for it.”

  His glare lifted and his smile returned, although as his gaze raked over her, Jenny felt herself shudder with disgust.

  “Mayhap you could be as determined to aid me as you are to assist my offspring,” he suggested, his voice low. “What say you, Miss Edgington? Might you
care to come in with me?”

  A flush of heat ran over Jenny’s frame and she shook her head in disgust, backing away from him. “I think not, Your Grace,” she stated, her revulsion rising steadily. “Good day.” She did not wait for him to dismiss her, but rather, strode away from him as quickly as she could. Her heart was beating with such furiousness that she could barely catch her breath, aware that heat was pouring into her cheeks. How dare he speak to her in such a way?

  “Miss Edgington!” Mrs. Blaine was now hurrying after her, her face as white as a sheet. “Miss Edgington, are you quite all right?”

  “Perfectly,” Jenny replied, angrily. “I have made my assessment of Lord Carrington, Mrs. Blaine, and I find him exceedingly wanting.” Her footsteps clattered on the stairs as she hurried to the kitchens, as though afraid that the Duke himself was following after her. “His behavior this day has been utterly abominable.”

  Mrs. Blaine was wringing her hands again, clearly quite distraught. “Does that mean you will leave us?”

  Jenny swung around, framed in the doorway of the kitchen. “I have no intention of leaving these children to deal with their father on their own,” she stated decisively, feeling more protective towards Mary and John than ever before. “No, Mrs. Blaine, I have no intentions of going anywhere.”

  “I am glad to hear it,” said the voice of the butler, from over her shoulder. “Do come in, Miss Edgington, Mrs. Blaine. This officer has been informing me about the Duke’s recent struggles with regards to the army and his return to England. It seems he is not at all pleased at having been forced to return.”

  Mrs. Blaine took a few steps further into the kitchen and sank down at the roughhewn table. “Forced?” she repeated, looking at the officer with wide eyes. “This has not been his own choice?”

  The officer shook his head. “No, indeed not. I shall not go into specifics, but needless to say, Lord Carrington is not at all delighted at being sent home. He has been discharged from the army and will not be permitted to return.”

  “I see,” Jenny murmured, a little surprised to hear that someone of such noble character as the Duke would be discharged so dishonorably. She recalled how he had behaved since the very first moment he had arrived and wondered silently whether that was due to his discharge or whether or not he had been something of a drunkard during his time abroad. Perhaps that had been the cause for him to be so dishonorably sent away.

  “My fellow officer and I have done our duties, however,” the man finished, with a small bow. “Therefore, I would have someone sign this paper –” He pulled a small folded letter from his pocket which he spread out on the table. “This is simply to send back to Lieutenant Fitchley so that he is assured Lord Carrington is now at home and can resume the responsibilities of his estate.”

  Mrs. Blaine let out a snort of ridicule at this last comment, although she was silenced by a sharp look from Mr. Thomas. The butler then took the letter away to his own private rooms where he might sign the letter, leaving Jenny and Mrs. Blaine to finish the conversation with the officer.

  “Might I ask,” Jenny began, slowly, the question she had been considering in her mind running around and around until she knew she had no choice but to ask it. “Was the Duke so….” She shook her head, letting out a small sigh of frustration. “What I mean to ask is, was the Duke inclined towards liquor during his time with the army as he is at the moment?”

  The officer shifted a little uncomfortably. “I do not wish to speak ill of the master of this house,” he said, looking away from Jenny.

  “I quite understand,” she answered, quickly, “but surely you must be able to see that we need to understand the issues we must face.”

  The officer sighed, rubbed at his forehead and nodded. “The death of his wife has proven difficult for Lord Carrington to accept,” he said, slowly, his gaze fixing itself onto Jenny’s face. “He took some time away, as he ought, but then returned before his mourning period was at an end. The liquor, I think, helped the pain that came with the knowledge that he was now alone.”

  Jenny swallowed hard, feeling a heavy weight settle in her stomach. She knew precisely what the officer meant. There was no question about it now. The Duke of Carrington had a penchant for liquor – although it seemed it was simply to dull his pain and hide his emotions from himself instead of a desire for the liquor itself.

  “Thank you,” she said, softly, suddenly feeling the urge to return to the children to ensure they were quite safe. “I do appreciate your honesty, sir. Good day to you.”

  Chapter Six

  It took Stephen a few minutes to realize that the sound of groaning was coming from his own mouth. Unable to lift his head with the sheer amount of pain rifling through him, he squeezed his eyes closed tightly and tried not to moan aloud again.

  He had, as usual, drunk far too much brandy and was now suffering the consequences of it. There was never any change. Always being aware of what was to come when he imbibed too much, he never once hesitated. He never once allowed himself to consider what would follow. All he wanted to do was drown out the pain and sorrow within his heart and mind.

  With an effort, he opened his eyes, squinting into the light that poured through the parlor windows. His clothes were rumpled and, as he raked one hand through his hair, he realized just how disheveled he must appear. Not that it mattered, of course. There was no-one here to see him.

  Another groan escaped from him as he pushed himself up to sitting. The couch he had fallen asleep on had not been comfortable and he could feel the pain of it now in his limbs. Feeling stiff and sore, he winced as he rubbed hard at one of his shoulders, hoping to ease the pain that had settled there.

  Might you care to come in with me?

  A sudden memory, a sudden reminder of his own voice speaking those words, hit him so hard that he slumped back into his seat, shame infusing his heart. Barely able to recall the young woman who had stood there, looking at him, Stephen groaned again, covering his hands with his face – although this time, it came from the deep sense of mortification over what he had done. To try and seduce the governess by leering at her and making such improper remarks was more than a little shameful – it was downright dishonoring. Why had he done such a thing? Yes, the liquor could easily be to blame but there was more to it than that.

  Dropping his hands from his face, Stephen sighed heavily as he let his eyes rove around the room. In his heart, he knew why he had spoken to that young lady in such a way. It was the very same reason that he now found himself hiding away in the parlor instead of retreating up to his room to sleep.

  The memories.

  They had come back to him already. They had done so the very first moment he had set eyes on his two children, from the first steps he had taken into the house. It was breaking him in two from deep within. He could feel it tearing him apart and the only thing that would prevent it, even for a few hours, was to lose himself in a drunken stupor. The reason he had slept in the parlor, the reason he had behaved so lewdly towards the governess, were simply attempts to hide from the memories that lingered in his bedchamber. The bedchamber where he had brought Martha in the days after their wedding. He could not go there now, not when he could not forget her. The memories of holding her close would be too much to bear.

  Then you need to find a different solution, came the small voice of his conscience. You cannot keep imbibing until it throws you into an early grave.

  At times like this, when the darkness was great and the pain almost too much to endure, Stephen felt himself almost looking forward to such a morbid thing as the grave, given that it was the only rest he would feel from his torment. But then he would remember the faces of his two children and he would turn away from his thoughts, feeling even more wretched than before.

  Closing his eyes again, Stephen leaned forward, put his elbows on his knees and thrust his hands into his hair. He had not so much as greeted his children. Just looking at them had been more than enough for him to manage. Yes, there
had been a great deal of liquor coursing through his veins, but the sight of his two children had still been overwhelming. They had changed somewhat since he had sent them away – but it had been their wide eyes and expressions of shock that had made him realize just how poor an example he was setting.

  He had attempted to improve himself in the minutes that followed after his children had departed, but the effects of the liquor had been too much to fight against. The shame of it all had sent him to the parlor in search of more brandy, and he must have fallen into a stupor shortly thereafter.

  “Oh.”

  The sound of the door opening and someone stepping inside had him lifting his head jerkily, although he immediately regretted the sharpness with which he had done so.

  “I do apologize.”

  It was the governess, he realized, looking at her with bleary eyes. She was tall and willowy, even with her plain governess gown, but she wore a pinched expression that had him fully aware of what she thought of him.

  “I just came in search of one of Mary’s toys,” she stated, walking into the room and looking all around. Her hands were held tightly in front of her, her fair hair tied back neatly into a tight bun. “I do not think it is here, however. Do excuse me.”

  “Wait.”

  His voice was hoarse and rasping, gruff and unwelcoming. He saw the governess pause in her steps, turning back around to face him with a reluctance that was more than obvious. Her eyes were light green and filled with ice as they held his gaze, her lips thin as she lifted her chin a notch. Stephen felt his mouth fill with dust, not quite sure what it was he wanted to say but knowing that he needed to say something to make up for his despicable behavior towards her.

  “Miss….” Closing his eyes, he drew in an unsteady breath, realizing that he had quite forgotten her name.

  “Miss Edgington,” she replied, swiftly.