Wild Passions of a Mischievous Duchess

by Violet Hamers

  “Your Grace,” she said, making sure to keep her voice cool and low. “I am a simple woman, though perhaps not as simple-minded as you have taken me for. I have not the wit nor the desire to be anything other than plainly honest in my speech. So please allow me to embarrass myself by being truthful with you now. I am not accustomed to the attention of gentlemen and am a perfect stranger to the world of seduction and intrigue. I have not the practice to hold my own against your…your temptations.”

  She glanced at Lord Limingrose, being sure that he was safely occupied and well out of ear shot before continuing.

  “As inexperienced and unprotected as I am, the danger to me in this endeavor is great. And if you truly wish to prove that you have any honorable thought for me, you will leave off this scheme and torment me no further.”

  This gave him pause. She watched the muscles in his neck work as he swallowed. His lips dipped in a frown as he looked away from her at last. Elizabeth kept her eyes glued on the child as he played, her pulse pounding in her ears.

  The Duke bowed to her, lowering his head so that his black hair glistened in the sun.

  “Forgive me, Miss Peaton.” Then, turning on his heel, he walked back towards the manor.

  She kept her feet rooted to the spot, afraid of the ferocity of her sudden impulse to call him back. To say she’d only been teasing, and that she would meet him again in the library that night. Now that she had told him the truth, she wished that she had just played the part of the coquette and damn the consequences. As ridiculous as it was, the thought that she would never again be kissed and fondled by the Duke of Hadminster filled her with a grief the depth of which she couldn’t understand.

  He was nothing to her. Just one of the many friends and associates of her employer that paraded through the marble halls of Stonehill. So why did the sound of his boots crushing the grass as he walked away make heavy tears spring to her eyes?

  Chapter Fifteen

  He tried to do as she wished. He tried to stay away. The sound of Thomas playing was like a warning bell, and he would turn back at the sound of it, terrified of happening across the lovely governess. Frustration nestled deep in his bones as he fought between the desire to prove himself to her and the desire to respect her wishes to be left alone.

  What made it most difficult was that her rejection was perfectly founded. It was natural for a woman in her position to feel preyed upon by a gentleman of his standing. Gentlemen of his rank often used their position of power over less powerful women to their advantage. Miss Peaton was wise beyond her years, and more sensible than himself.

  It was in this unsettled state of mind that he sat at dinner a few days later and picked at the roasted duck on his plate.

  “Not hungry, Gerard?” his sister asked. Jonathan was out calling on his associates, and young Thomas had already been excused from the table. Gerard and Bridget lingered.

  “I haven’t had an appetite lately,” he said.

  “I’ve noticed. The last time we really spoke heart-to-heart was when you were telling me that you were developing an attachment to Miss Peaton. Since then it has been terse discussions of the weather and picking at your plate. Has something happened between the two of you?”

  Gerard glanced up at his sister. She was too observant, sometimes. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to talk about it with her. It was a bit of a humiliation, being so soundly rejected by the governess. Especially after taking such liberties with her in the library, he did not even have the luxury of denying the intensity of his feeling for her.

  “Ah,” he tried to laugh, managing a dry chuckle. “I’m afraid my feelings are not reciprocated.”

  Bridget’s gently arched eyebrows shot up. “Is that so?”

  He shrugged, shoving a bite of duck into his mouth.

  “Gerard, tell me what happened.”

  He sighed, putting down his fork. “There’s nothing much to say. A…an overture was made. And she turned me down.”

  “An overture?” There was a hint of a smirk in the corner of her mouth. “Oh dear. What did you do?”

  He scoffed, her humor stinging him. “Nothing. I...”

  “What did you do?” she repeated.

  “I kissed her,” he confessed.

  “What, with no warning?”

  “No, I…” he stammered, his shame making it difficult for him to put into words what had happened. “I don’t know. Maybe. I thought I had made my feelings clear, but it seems that she finds me dishonorable.”

  “You, dishonorable?” she asked. “There must have been some misunderstanding.”

  “Well, perhaps therein lies the problem. It’s only natural that she should question the legitimacy of my feelings, when she doesn’t know me. We’ve spent time together, yes, but only in the company of Thomas and never truly as equals.”

  “She’s an intelligent woman, that Miss Peaton. Though her caution is misplaced in this case. But tell me, Gerard, what were your intentions? Do you expect the comforts of her…intimate company without the promise of marriage? You must understand that no cautious woman in her position would accept such an arrangement.”

  Gerard inhaled slowly, watching the motes of dust in the air swirl in a shaft of light. “I have been alone for a long time, now.”

  “Yes, too long. Soon you’ll be so old that no one will have you,” she teased.

  Gerard laughed, but it rang hollow.

  “I hardly know her,” he said softly, after a long pause.

  “But I do,” Bridget said. “She was the best of many women we interviewed for the position, and in the time that she has been with us, I have gotten to know her. She is a quiet woman, but not a quiet soul. Passionate yet dignified. She would make a fine Duchess.”

  Finally, a genuine smile worked across his face. “A Duchess.”

  He thought of her, dressed in fine clothing but with that same calmly stoic look on her face. That face that would light up like a ray of pure sunlight at the sight of a child.

  “Yes, I thought so, too,” he said. “She has a natural elegance to her. When first I saw her, I thought her a bit haughty, but upon closer inspection I found her to be warm and pensive.”

  “Did you propose?” Bridget asked.

  “Not in so many words. I find myself feeling foolish and unable to say what I mean when I’m with her.”

  “Four words.”

  “Hmm?” Gerard looked at her, confused.

  “Will. You. Marry. Me. It’s four words. None of them difficult to pronounce. You say she found your advances dishonorable. Well, if you don’t intend to marry her, then she was correct.”

  “You really think I should ask her? Do you think that people would talk?”

  Bridget brushed off the worry about gossip. “Of course people will talk, but soon they will find something else to talk about and your Duchess will meld comfortably into the fabric of society. The question isn’t whether people will talk. The question is, do you love her? Will she make you happy?”

  Gerard hesitated. “She comforts me. I feel myself again when I see her. I…yes…I do think she would make me happy.”

  Bridget smiled and hugged her brother. “That’s all I want for you, Gerard. It’s all I’ve wanted for you for years.”

  Gerard chuckled, peeling his sister’s arms from around his neck. “Well now, don’t get your hopes up. I may have already fouled the whole thing up beyond reconciliation. She may not believe a proposal genuine now.”

  “I was already thinking that I wanted to invite her to the celebration ball after Anne’s baptism. Not as a governess, but as my friend. That will be a good time for you to work your way back into her good graces, I think. What woman wouldn’t get swept away by the romance of a festive ball? In fact, I think I’ll go find her and invite her now.”

  Gerard stepped back, knowing better than to get in her way once Bridget had made up her mind about something. He doubted whether she would be able to convince Miss Peaton to give him another chance, but he coul
dn’t muster up the determination to try to stop her from trying.

  And what about Christine? For seven years you forsook all comfort and now you are so eager to tumble into matrimony with a woman you hardly know?

  His mind interrogated him, but he couldn’t deny the feeling of lightness and relief he felt when in her company. If she would not have him, then so be it. But he wanted to at least try.

  * * *

  Elizabeth looked up from the lesson book she was going over with Lord Limingrose and was surprised to find the Duchess standing in the doorway of the schoolroom.

  “Pardon me for interrupting,” she said gently.

  The child jumped up. “Mother!” he cried as he bounded up to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She laughed and hunched down to hug him.

  “Don’t get any ideas, Thomas, I’m not here to take you from your lessons. I merely need to speak to Miss Peaton for a moment.”

  Elizabeth’s heart skipped a beat, wondering if she was in trouble.

  Could it be that the Duchess has found out about me sneaking into the library to meet her brother?

  Mentally, she braced herself to be sacked as she rose to her feet and placidly approached the smiling Duchess.

  “Sit down to your reading, Thomas. I will bring her right back,” she said, as she slid her arm through Elizabeth’s and led her out into the hallway. She pushed the door mostly closed, so that they could just keep an eye on the boy through the sliver of an opening.

  “Miss Peaton, I know this may sound rather sudden, and unfortunately it is rather short notice, but I was wondering if you might like to come to the celebration ball the night of the baptism?”

  Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed that the Duchess did not know about herself and the Duke after all.

  “Of course. I will have Lord Limingrose take a long nap that afternoon so he is fresh for the ball.”

  “Oh no,” the Duchess broke in. “You misunderstand. Thomas is still too young to attend. I just meant yourself. I’d like to have you there, as my friend.”

  Elizabeth’s hands dropped to her sides. “Oh. I…I wouldn’t know anybody.”

  “Don’t look so frightened,” the Duchess smiled. “You know me. And I’ll introduce you. It will be a good time, I promise.”

  “You’re really too kind, Your Grace,” Elizabeth stammered.

  “Well, I happen to know that my brother has taken a liking to you. With that being the case, I think it best to have you out in society a bit.”

  Elizabeth’s color rose at the realization that her relationship with the Duke was known, but the Duchess was still smiling encouragingly.

  “Never you worry, Miss Peaton. I’ve told him that you’re a marvelous person and I’ve encouraged him. If you absolutely hate him, of course I won’t press the matter. But, oh, if you only knew how miserable he’s been. And how refreshed and alive he looks since meeting you. We owe so much to you.”

  “Your Grace…I do not know what to say.”

  “Say you’ll come to the ball. You can wear any one of my gowns you like. Except the burgundy one, I’m wearing that one.” She winked.

  “I suppose I’d be a fool to refuse such an offer.”

  The Duchess beamed. “It will be such fun. Now I really can’t wait.”

  With a quick, surprising hug, Elizabeth was ushered back into the schoolroom and settled back into the quiet lesson with Lord Limingrose. Her mind was reeling. She had thought that it was over between herself and the Duke. Mortified, she wondered if the Duchess did not know about her last exchange with him. Perhaps he would be unhappy to see her there.

  Still, despite the confusion, she felt a warm glow about her to have found the Duchess so welcoming. Even if her hopes with the Duke were nothing but a fantasy, that the Duchess would accept her so easily was surprising. Well, perhaps not that surprising. The Duchess was just that sort of friendly, class-blind lady.

  She forced her mind back to Latin verbs and tried not to get her hopes up. Most likely, this ball would lead to nothing, but the possibility of at least forming a closer friendship with the Duchess was enough to raise Elizabeth’s spirits.

  In the days leading up to the baptism, Elizabeth found it more difficult than ever to fall asleep. During the day she could shut her mind to anything other than Lord Limingrose and her duties, but when night fell and she was alone with her thoughts, it was a different story. She could not stop thinking about how the Duke had looked in the garden, asking her if there truly was “nothing” he could do to prove himself to her.

  Was he suggesting marriage?

  It seemed impossible. But the look in his eyes when he had said it, so earnest and pleading, left a glimmer of hope in her mind.

  Hope?

  Did she truly hope that he would propose? She never had ambitions to rise above her station. She’d always been more or less at peace with a quiet, simple life of work and loneliness. He had awakened something in her, a longing that she had not allowed herself to feel before.

  She thought now of living in a manor like this one, sitting up in the morning and rocking a baby in her arms. She thought of going to bed and not being alone but sharing warmth and companionship with a gentleman who loved her. A gentleman she loved. These sorts of dreams had only brought her pain before. But now she was kept awake in the night concocting sunny fantasies.

  She wondered if he waited for her in the library.

  The day of the baptism brought a light sprinkling of rain in the morning. The pitter-patter of it on the church roof and stained-glass windows shrouded the scene in a cozy atmosphere. The Duchess was glowing as she stood at the front of the church with her beautiful, healthy baby swaddled in white lace and ribbons.

  The sight of the water being poured gently on that small downy head brought unexpected tears to Elizabeth’s eyes. She’d grown up her whole life knowing that her place in life was to help bring up other women’s children, but lately she had been struck by the desire for her own.

  She glanced around the church and found the Duke of Hadminster. He was dressed in navy blue, his aristocratic profile stoic as he watched the baptism. Then, suddenly, he looked right at her. As if he’d already known precisely where she was sitting. As if he’d been looking at her before.

  She couldn’t look away quickly enough to disguise the fact that she’d been looking at him. He nodded his head minutely to her. She ducked her head slightly.

  The rest of the day was spent in anxious preparation for the ball. Elizabeth was whisked away from her duties as a governess as she was transformed by Dorothy and the Duchess herself. She was arrayed in a pale gold gown and her hair coaxed into ringlets and plied into a Grecian knot at the back of her head. Elizabeth felt as though she were wearing a disguise as she and the Duchess descended the stairs together. The Duchess squeezed her arm reassuringly as she was led about the ballroom and introduced to people here and there.

  “And who is this?” an older gentleman asked. Elizabeth recognized him as Baron Van Buren, a friend of the Duke of Stonehill. They had met before, on one of his visits.

  “Why, this is Miss Elizabeth Peaton, My Lord. You’ve met her before. She’s our governess.”

  The Baron was visibly taken aback as he looked her over with his quizzing glass. “I certainly would remember having met such a beauty! I cannot believe that this lady before me is a governess.”

  Elizabeth blushed as he scrutinized her, but the Duchess was quick to assure him of who she was. At that time, Lady Rosaline approached, carrying glasses of champagne. She handed one to each the Duchess and Elizabeth. Elizabeth’s hand curled around the glass. She had never had a drink before.

  Nervously, she sipped at the champagne, bracing herself for bitterness, but she found that it was sweet. Bridget smiled at her over the rim of her glass as she took another drink.

  “The ball is a smashing success,” Lady Rosaline announced happily. “And what a pleasure it is to see the lovely young governess here with us tonigh
t.”

  “Miss Peaton?” A masculine voice she recognized came from behind her. She whirled around to find the Duke standing before her, looking slightly nervous. He had changed his clothes and now wore a smart black waistcoat with a cravat as white as snow.

  “Your Grace,” she said, curtseying.

  “Will you dance with me?” he asked, casting a very quick sidelong glance at his sister.

  “I…as you wish, Your Grace.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The Duchess rushed forward to take Elizabeth’s glass from her as she was led towards the other dancers on the Duke’s arm. Her legs felt shaky as he placed her in her spot in the dancing line. She felt mildly sick to her stomach and wished she had not taken such a long sip of champagne. Rather than giving her a boost of courage, she found herself off balance.