Miss Edgington lifted her chin. “Is this to be a choice presented to me, Your Grace, or am I to agree simply because you wish it?” It was, of course, a reference to what had passed before, when he had demanded that she tell him all she remembered of his late wife. Stephen felt the painful sting of her rebuke strike at him as if she had slapped him hard across the face.
“You have a choice, of course, Miss Edgington,” he stated, coolly, trying not to show her that her words had bitten at him. “Although, if you would permit me, I would attempt to apologize to you for some of my…. behavior towards you of late.”
Miss Edgington’s expression did not change. Nor did she move. Instead, she simply looked back at him steadily, as though she were trying to work out whether or not she could believe his words.
“I know I have been rather improper at times,” Stephen continued when it became clear that she was not going to answer him. “I cannot tell you precisely what it is that I must apologize for, but –”
“Then there is no need for us to speak further, Your Grace,” Miss Edgington interrupted, her disdain immediately apparent. “If you cannot recall, then what good is it to apologize?” She clicked to her horse and began to ride away, turning her back on him as she had done before.
Stephen drew in a sharp breath, aware of the anger that was coursing through him as she did so. No other member of his household staff would dare do such a thing and yet Miss Edgington did so without even a moment of consideration. It was as though she were weary of his pitiful words of contrition and had decided that they were not even worth listening to any longer.
Not that he could blame her, he reasoned, turning his horse and spurring it on to catch Miss Edgington. Even though he had told her she had a choice as to whether or not she rode with him, Stephen found that he could not prevent himself from hurrying after her, suddenly desperate for her to hear what he had to say.
“I will apologize specifically for what I can recall,” he called after her, seeing her turn her head to look at him. “If that will satisfy you?”
She rolled her eyes and looked away, her chin held high as she continued to ride. “I care nothing for your apologies, Lord Carrington,” she replied, her voice carried away by the wind that chased itself between them. “For if your words are simply that – words – then what difference will it have on your behavior?” She turned her head again, her eyes flashing. “I would see a change of behavior as evidence of your sorrow over recent…. interactions.”
Flushing with both anger and embarrassment, Stephen caught up with her horse, riding alongside her and looking directly into her face. Miss Edgington’s light green eyes looked back into his, a few curls of fair hair brushing at her temples in the breeze. Had it not been for the sharpness of her gaze and the thin line of her mouth, he might think her reasonably pretty.
“I spoke improperly,” he said reluctantly, knowing that he had to be honest with both her and his own heart even though it pained him to be truthful. “I demanded that you tell me what you recalled of my wife, and it was obvious to me that you did not wish to do so.”
Miss Edgington looked away. “I will not add to your suffering, Your Grace. Nor will I be treated with such disregard.”
“Disregard?”
She looked back at him swiftly. “Indeed,” she replied, arching her brow. “If you were truly interested in my family and the difficulties that have come my way of late, then I would be glad of your concern and your compassion. However, if you only seek to ask me such things in order to further your own knowledge of your late wife, then that shows me no concern whatsoever now, does it?” She looked at him steadily, her gaze holding tight to his. “You must stop yourself from living solely in the past, Your Grace.” Once again, Stephen felt shame creep over him.
Stephen noticed the softness to her words and the way her gaze had gentled, but he felt nothing but sharp anger rising in him.
“You know nothing of the pain that I feel,” he retorted, his hackles rising. “How dare you tell me what I ought to do?”
Miss Edgington did not flinch, nor did she look away from him. “I can see what it is doing to your children, as well as to your own heart, Your Grace,” she stated, unequivocally. “They long for your company and for your presence. Yet you insist on keeping your distance from them. You prefer to wrap yourself up in memories, of dreams and hopes long past, instead of looking to the present and to the wonderful gift you have in both John and Mary.”
His anger burned all the hotter, his jaw working furiously as he fought his desire to lash out verbally at her. His hands tightened on the reins, his whole body rigid with tension. “You know nothing of the pain I feel!”
To his surprise, Miss Edgington let out a small, sad laugh. “If that is what you believe, Lord Carrington, then I know for certain that you have never once taken an interest in what my life has been like thus far. Your questions about my family meant nothing to you other than what you might glean of Lady Carrington. No, Your Grace, I may not know the loss of one’s marriage partner, but I do know what it is like to lose those you love dearly.”
His anger began to ebb away as the very first strains of his familiar shame began to creep into his mind. What was Miss Edgington talking about? What had he forgotten?
“You do not recall, so I will not remind you,” Miss Edgington finished, sadly, eyeing him with something like deep sorrow and regret. “Good afternoon, Your Grace. If you do not mind, I shall finish this ride alone.”
He wanted to call out to her, wanted to stop her and state that, yes, he did remember what it was she had endured, but his mind would not give him the answers he sought. Again, shame branded itself across his chest, giving rise to both frustration and anger. Why could he not remember what it was she had said of her family? And why did it now mean so much for him to be able to remember it?
Chapter Nine
The day was a fine one and Jenny had enjoyed a quiet luncheon whilst the children were taken care of by one of the maids. They were eating in a separate room from her own so that she simply might relax for a short time and recover herself somewhat after what had been an arduous morning.
It had been almost a week since she had last been in Lord Carrington’s company. Almost a week since she had told him, quite plainly, that the way he appeared to disregard his children so easily was having something of a damaging effect on them. She had seen the way Mary looked after her father whenever he passed them in the hallway. She had noticed how John struggled to fall asleep these last few nights, so caught up with thoughts of his father and the emptiness that seemed to be between them. There was a struggle in both of those children’s hearts and it was one that Jenny knew she could not bring any particular relief to. It had to be the Duke’s responsibility and, as yet, it appeared that he was not about to take her advice.
A sigh escaped from her lips as she set down her tea cup, having drained it completely. The Duke had avoided her completely these last few days, although whether that was due to his desire to avoid her sharp tongue, or because he was thinking on what she had said, Jenny did not know. She had barely seen even a glimpse of him, although the whispers amongst the staff were that the master had, at the very least, managed to prevent himself from being discovered in a drunken stupor in the stables – or in anywhere else, for that matter. It seemed that he was now keeping himself contained within his rooms each evening and, as such, the staff had not had to concern themselves with seeking him out, for fear of where he might have disappeared to.
Another heavy sigh came from her as Jenny rose to her feet and wandered to her window, looking out across the estate gardens. As much as she was disinclined towards the Duke, as much as his behavior angered her and as often as he had insulted her by making somewhat lewd suggestions, she had to confess that there was a growing compassion for him deep within her heart. She recognized that, whilst he seemed to insist upon keeping his mind and heart in the past, he was truly struggling with the loss of Martha. He must have car
ed for her a great deal, she considered, leaning on the window sill so as to look a little more closely at the gardens that lay before her, taking in their beauty and allowing the sight of it to soften her heart. The Duke was a troubled man but he did not help himself in any way by refusing to relegate his memories to the past and focus his eyes to the future. Yes, Jenny had to admit she had been sharp-tongued and spoke her mind freely. But she believed the Duke required such a forceful honesty in order to halt his desperate longings to return to the past.
Closing her eyes, Jenny let out a long breath and tried to focus her mind on something other than the Duke. He had been in her thoughts recently, she knew, but that was simply because of how they had last left matters. He had not recalled the death of her parents, it seemed, despite the fact that she had told him of it. And that had pained her more than she had expected. He had not called out after her and had not sought her out in order to apologize and admit that yes, he knew that it was her parents who had been so tragically killed. This left her with the belief that the Duke did not give her even a moment’s thought. Although why that should trouble her so when she was just the governess and nothing more, she had very little understanding.
Her brow furrowed as she caught sight of the maid and Mary wandering back through the gardens towards the house. Jill, the maid, was busy in discussion with Mary, who was holding her hand and tugging her towards the house. However, there appeared to be no sign of John and, as Jenny continued to search the gardens with her gaze, she felt a slow sinking of her spirits.
Surely John could not have returned to the town, to again begin his escapades as he had done before? It had been some time since he had last done such a thing, but ever since the Duke had returned, John had become silent and surly. He did not speak to anyone a great deal, and he kept his thoughts completely to himself. Jenny had been glad that he had not been rude, threatening or entirely unmanageable, but still had fretted over the silence. Now, as she looked out at the gardens again in an attempt to find John, Jenny felt a knot of fear settle within her. Where could the boy be?
Gathering her skirts, Jenny hastened from the room with frantic steps. Most likely, Jill, the maid, presumed that John was somewhere behind her. It might not be some minutes before she realized that the child was not even present! Hurrying down the staircase, she almost ran straight into the Duke himself, who was coming out of the library, a glass in his hand.
“Gracious, Miss Edgington!” The Duke’s voice was filled with annoyance, his hand grasping her arm in an attempt to either steady her or move her further from him. “You must be more careful. I almost tipped this glass of brandy over your head!”
She wrenched her arm from him, her heart in her throat as she began to move away from him. “It is only that I must find John,” she called, not even waiting to explain the matter to him any further, such was her urgency. “Do excuse me, Your Grace.”
Turning away, Jenny continued to hurry towards the front door, more than astonished when the Duke’s footsteps began to draw near. Glancing behind her, she saw that he was following after her, his face expressionless as he hurried to the door.
“Where is my son?” he asked, his voice grating. “Where has he gone?”
Jenny, taken aback by his harsh tone, looked up at him as the door was pulled open for them both by a waiting footman. “The maid was taking the children for a short walk after luncheon but only Mary has arrived home,” she explained, stepping out into the light afternoon air and down the stone steps that led to the gravel-covered driveway and, thereafter, the gardens. “My fear is he has gone back to the town again.”
The Duke grunted something under his breath, his jaw set firm.
“You are aware of what I am speaking of, are you not?” Jenny asked, breathless as she half ran, half walked, towards the direction of the maid and Mary. “You understand what I mean?”
The Duke’s eyes were a cold, hard blue as he looked down at her. “I do not,” he said, stiffly, his frame taut with tension. “What is it that you mean? Why would he have gone to the town?” He frowned hard, looking away from her. “I understand that a boy of his age might wish to go exploring, but I cannot understand why he would go alone.”
Jenny swallowed hard, not wishing to express the truth to the Duke for fear that he might become angry when things were already at a rather difficult juncture. It was yet more evidence, however, that the Duke did not know his children particularly well at all. He certainly showed no eagerness to aid them in the difficult time they had endured since their mother’s passing.
“Miss Edgington.”
The Duke’s voice was filled with ire, although Jenny guessed it to be tinged with concern also. She glanced up at him, before looking back across the gardens to see Jill holding Mary by the hand. Jill was looking all around her with a drawn expression on her pale face.
Apparently, she had also realized that John had gone missing.
“I pray, do not blame the maid for what has occurred,” Jenny begged, as they neared her. “Your son has often slipped away in such a manner, although he has not done so in some time.” She deliberately ensured that there was no inflection in her voice, no tone that might suggest that he was to blame for such a thing, but even without it, she felt the Duke’s steely glare rest on her for a moment. She did not allow it to trouble her, feeling more than enough concern over the whereabouts of John.
“Oh, Miss Edgington!” Jill hurried towards her, holding Mary tightly by the hand. “I can’t find the young master! He was with me only a moment or two ago but now….” Her eyes lifted to see the Duke coming alongside Jenny, and she came to a stumbling stop, one hand going to her mouth as her eyes flared with horror.
“You do not know where he has gone,” Jenny finished for her, trying to drag the maid’s attention back to herself again. “You know that he has often slipped away before, Jill. Do not blame yourself.”
“Where is he?”
The Duke’s voice was steely, his gaze hard. Jenny felt herself fill with frustration as Jill quelled beneath the ire of Lord Carrington. This was precisely what she had asked him not to do, and yet, it seemed, he was determined to make the situation worse.
“I – I do not know, Your Grace,” the maid whispered, her face now a pale shade of grey. “I turned around thinking he was following myself and Miss Mary, but he wasn’t there when I looked back.”
“It is not Jilly’s fault, father,” Mary interjected, using the sweet name she used for the maid. “John ran off. He has done so before.”
The Duke let out a long breath, barely glancing at his daughter. “Is that so?”
“It is, Your Grace,” Jill replied, her head now low. “But all the same, I know I should have kept a better eye on him.”
Jenny felt, rather than saw, the Duke stiffen. She took a step towards Jill in hopes that she might prevent the Duke from speaking any more harshly to her. “We will send someone to the town to look for him, of course. He has gone there before and I am quite certain that he will have gone there again.”
The maid nodded, her gaze darting towards the Duke once more, her eyes filling with tears. Jenny, being quite certain that the maid now feared for her continued employment over such a failing as this, could not help but attempt to assuage his anger and fear.
“Your Grace,” she began, turning around to look up into the Duke’s face, aware that his gaze still rested on Jill. “Might Jill take Miss Mary back to the house? She will need to be taken care of. I will have a horse saddled and ride to the town myself immediately.”
“You shall do no such thing.” The Duke’s eyes now turned to her, waving one hand in Jill’s direction to dismiss her. Jill scampered away at once, but not before Jenny had pressed a reassuring hand on Mary’s shoulder and given her a quick smile. The Duke, Jenny noticed, did not as much as speak nor even look at his daughter as she left.
“The carriage shall be prepared at once and you shall accompany me to the town,” the Duke continued, looking strai
ght at Jenny as though daring her to argue. “If it is the case that my son has run off alone on previous occasions, then I must hope, Miss Edgington, that you will be able to show me his previous whereabouts in the hope that he will have returned there.”
Jenny lifted her chin, feeling a sudden swell of defiance in her chest. “I shall, of course,” she agreed, as the Duke swung about to walk hastily back to the house. “And I shall tell you precisely what he did and why, I believe, he did so.”
The Duke threw a narrow-eyed glance over his shoulder towards her but Jenny remained absolutely determined. If John had gone to the town to steal and to take what did not belong to him, then Jenny was absolutely sincere in her desire to tell the Duke precisely why she believed the boy did so. Hurrying after him, her heart beating quickly in her chest, she swallowed hard and prayed that John would be found without delay – and that the Duke would not be overly harsh with him when he discovered him again.
* * *
“Tell me, then, what it is my son has been doing on his previous escapades, Miss Edgington.”
Now in the carriage on the short drive to the town, Jenny looked across at the Duke and saw his cold eyes looking back into hers with a fierceness that quite stole her breath. She suspected that he was deeply troubled but was attempting to hide his concern behind an angry demeanor.
“Your son has stolen items from whomever he wished,” she stated, unequivocally. “He became a pick-pocket, if I may speak plainly.” She settled her hands in her lap and did not so much as glance away from the Duke, not even when his jaw clenched and his brows furrowed low. “He was caught each time he did such a thing and the items were returned to those to whom they belonged. It was all done as quietly as possible, of course.”
“Of course,” the Duke muttered, dryly, finally pulling his eyes from hers and looking out of the window. “We must save the family reputation, even if it is despicable what one is doing.”
A New Home for the Duke: A Regency Romance: The Returned Lords of Grosvenor Square (Book 4) Page 8