Regency Hearts Boxed Set

by Jennifer Monroe

  “Yes, I know you do,” Michael replied. “But sometimes things happen in life that make people move on.”

  Samuel nodded wisely. “You know, if I could help Miss Hester, I would,” he said firmly.

  Michael smiled again. “I know you would. You have a kind heart.”

  “Like my mother?”

  The innocent question tore at Michael’s heart. “Yes, like your mother,” he replied quietly.

  The two continued their trek to the house, passing one of the gardeners, who was busy tending to a bed of roses. Michael spared no expense when it came to the gardens, for it had been a favorite place for his late wife.

  “Would you tell me a story about her?” Samuel asked as they came to a stop near a bench that had been set under one of the larger trees beside a side gate. He did not need to ask to know Samuel meant his mother.

  Michael smiled at the boy as he sat on the bench. His son’s eagerness was evident by the wide grin he held. “Very well,” Michael replied, patting the empty space beside him on the bench. He reached into a pocket and withdrew a handkerchief. “Do you see this?” he asked the boy, pointing to an embroidered leaf.

  “Yes,” Samuel replied.

  “Your mother made this handkerchief,” Michael explained. “Did you know that your mother was the best embroiderer in all of England?”

  Samuel’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. “She was?” he asked.

  “Indeed. However, she knew her gift was not meant only for us but to be shared with everyone.”

  Samuel ran his finger across the stitching lovingly. “She wanted you to let everyone see it?” he asked.

  Michael chuckled. “Not exactly. What she wanted to do was embroider enough of these to give to every orphan in England. That way, those without much could at least have something beautiful. Do you understand why she would do such a thing?”

  The look Samuel gave could only be described as one of pride and awe. “Because she was a nice person?”

  “Yes, that is part of it,” Michael said. “However, your mother also believed, as do I, that there are those who need hope in life. Many people are not as fortunate as we, so giving them something, even a handkerchief, might make them happy.” He placed the handkerchief into his son’s hand. “Now, today, I give you this. Keep it close to you as a reminder of what good looks like.”

  Samuel gazed down at the piece of cloth as if Michael had offered him the most precious of gifts. “Thank you, Father,” he said in a voice filled with awe. “I will keep it with me always.”

  Michael pulled Samuel in for a hug and then kissed his cheek.

  Samuel said nothing for some time. Then he reached up and ran his hand along the scars that covered the right side of Michael’s face. “Will I be getting a new governess soon?” Samuel asked once again as he allowed his hand to fall to his lap.

  Michael sighed. “I hope so, Son.” Yet, he feared the wait would be longer than either would like, for reasons Michael did not wish to explain.

  ***

  Michael glanced out the window of his office watching as Samuel talked to one of the servants. It had been a fortnight gone since he had Jenkins send word out to the appropriate venues to find a new governess, and as he expected, not a single person had inquired after the job.

  “The boy has learned enough so far in his young life and is much too old for a governess as it is,” Robert, Michael’s younger brother, said from the armchair before the empty fireplace. “You worry needlessly. He is a Blackstone; learning will come to him naturally.”

  Michael continued to peer out the window as he pondered his brother’s words. “He is exceptionally bright,” he said finally, “there is no doubt about that. However, he will need to continue his education. Unfortunately, I am beginning to believe I will need to search for someone who is not of this area.” He turned to face his brother and sighed. Too much more important topics needed to be discussed for him to concern himself with finding his son a governess. That would happen despite his worry. “So, what is it you wished to see me about?” he asked.

  Robert was three years younger than Michael and had the same dark hair and eyes, though his brother’s hair was nowhere near the length Michael kept. Nor was it as unruly. Some would have considered the man quite handsome, much more so than Michael, even before he became disfigured, but Michael held no envy for the man. For whatever reason, God had granted Robert with a face free of any blemishes, and for that Michael was grateful. At least the man did not have to endure the stares and comments given behind hands and open fans that Michael had before he had closed himself into his estate.

  “The carriage business in town,” Robert said with a grin that broke across his face. “I have spoken again to the owner, and he is prepared to sell it to us.”

  Michael nodded as he took a seat behind the desk. “So, you have managed to convince the man to sell. But I wonder; at what cost?”

  Robert laughed, a shake to his head. “Your fortune is vast and your coffers grow daily. Why do you worry so much about money?”

  Michael tapped his fingers on the desk. It was not that he cared all that much for the money in general, not as much as his brother implied; however, the fees Robert required for conducting business had grown with every transaction. How could any man survive when money seemed to leak from every pore?

  Robert must have sensed Michaels concerns, for he let out a long, heavy sigh. “Very well. If you wish to present yourself to the ton and let the rumors increase, then by all means, do so. I have spent two months of my life procuring this arrangement for you, and all I ask in return is a small fee for my time. If that is too much to ask…”

  With a raise of his hand, Michael interrupted. “No, you make a good point. You cannot work for free, and your time is well worth the business you are able to acquire.” He looked over his desktop in search of his banking book. Confusion came to him when he did not see it when it had been there just a short time ago. “My banking book?”

  “You set it over there,” Robert replied with a motion to the bookcase along the wall by the door.

  Michael stood and walked over to the bookcase. The brown leather ledger lay on the self in front of a line of fine books that had once belonged to his father, some of his favorite titles amongst them. “How did this end up here?” he asked no one in particular. “I do not recall moving it from my desk before you came, and I was near the window when you arrived.”

  His brother took a step back, his jaw clenched. “If you wish to call me a liar, Brother, then do so outright. I do not understand why you have directed your rage at me when I simply informed you of what I saw.”

  Guilt filled Michael. It was not the fault of his brother that he was going mad. The misplaced ledger was just one of the latest in Michael’s mismanagement. Business arrangements forgotten, money missing, items misplaced, so many issues had presented themselves with little explanation for why they were not as he had thought he had left them. Just last week it had been the mirror in his bedroom that had been moved from in front of the far wall to before the window that overlooked the garden. However, after questioning everyone in the household, none admitted to moving it. Yes, Michael was slowly going mad, and the thought of that happening and him leaving Samuel alone terrified him. The boy had already lost his mother; how would he be able to endure the loss of his father, as well?

  “It was not my intention to name you a liar,” Michael said as he headed back to his desk with the banking book in hand. “Forgive me. I fear at times my mind is not as sharp as it once was.”

  Robert came to stand in front of the desk, his voice now kind. “We will forget this ever happened,” he said as he placed his hands flat on the desktop. “I know the stress and guilt that plagues you on a daily basis. It is too much with which a man should have to cope.”

  Michael opened the banking book. His brother was right; the guilt of not being able to save his wife tore at his heart daily. It had not only brought shame upon his soul, but now
he stood shamed before the ton, as well. Although he was a Duke and no one would ever refuse a request he might make for them to come to his estate, Michael sent no invitation, nor did he accept any, and he never planned to. It was why he had not left his home in five years and why Robert was now not only his business partner, but also his spokesman.

  After writing out a cheque, Michael handed the paper to Robert. “Will you stay and dine with Samuel and me this evening?” he asked as he closed the banking book and leaned back in his chair.

  “I am afraid I cannot,” came Robert’s reply. “I must complete this deal as soon as possible so your new business is secure. Plus, tomorrow I am headed to Catherine’s once again.”

  “You will marry her soon, I suppose?”

  Robert grinned. “I will,” he replied. “But…” he patted his jacket pocket where he had placed the cheque Michael had given him, “I must secure my brother and nephew’s future first.”

  Michael smiled, thankful that Robert was looking out for him, as he always did. Without his brother, Michael considered he might have lost everything. “Journey well. I shall see you soon.”

  Robert shook Michael’s hand, gave him a quick nod, and headed out the door.

  Once Robert was gone, Michael stood back up and returned to the window. As he watched his son laughing as he played with a rock in his hand, sadness overtook him. How long would it be before the madness took over Michael completely? The thought of Samuel witnessing such travesty churned his stomach.

  Shoving away the thought, he was determined that no matter how much time of sanity he had left, he would make the best of it while he had the chance, for nothing mattered more than the health and welfare of his only child and heir to the vast fortune Michael currently owned.

  Chapter Three

  Fastening the burlap dress to the line that hung between the house and post, Jane stood back and wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. She had been at the home of her cousin for three weeks now, and though Anne had on many occasions told her otherwise, Jane knew she had long overstayed her welcome. It was not so much anything in Anne’s words or demeanor that convinced Jane of this, but those of the woman’s husband David. Although the man smiled at Jane when he knew she was looking, he had made subtle hints about Jane finding work during various conversations that made Jane see he wished to have her on her way as soon as possible.

  Jane could not blame the man for wishing to have his home returned to its previous quiet, for with Jane sleeping on the small pallet in the main living area, the couple was unable to participate in those things that married people did when they were alone. As a matter of fact, just the previous evening, Jane had bit her tongue when she heard Anne tell off David when he tried to kiss her in Jane’s presence.

  Letting out a sigh, Jane turned to see David and Anne approaching. She greeted them, but David ignored her as he went inside. Anne, however, returned Jane’s greeting with a hug.

  “I have some wonderful news, Love,” Anne said as she slipped an arm through Jane’s and led her to a small brook that trickled through a patch of land behind the house.

  “Oh?” Jane asked. “Did you find a man for me to wed so you can rid yourself of me?” This brought on a bout of laughter from the two women; teasing one another was one of their greatest pleasures.

  They stopped at the bank of the brook, and Jane watched the water amble over the rocks that lay in its bed.

  “The cousin of a friend of mine knows a man, a Duke as it were, who is in need of a governess. The pay is nearly double of that which you made with your previous employer.”

  Jane smiled as her heart raced. Nearly double? That amount of money was unheard of. And the things she could do with that pay! She might even be able to save to purchase her own cottage one day.

  “That is wonderful!” she exclaimed. Then an idea struck her and she felt a wariness overtake her. “Why would he offer such extravagant pay? Are his children so difficult that they have run off their previous governesses?”

  Anne let out a deep sigh, which only heightened Jane’s anxiety and made her that much more suspicious. “Before I tell you, I want you to know that I do not wish you to leave,” her cousin said, a pleading to her voice.

  “I know,” Jane whispered. “I realize David wishes me to be gone, and I do not blame him. You both have been more than gracious to allow me to stay with you, and I do not wish to intrude any longer.”

  “Oh, David is fine,” Anne said with a wave of her hand. “To be honest, it gives me a well-deserved break from his antics at night.” This made them both giggle.

  “Very well, then. Who is this Duke? Do I know him?”

  “Well, I do not believe you have ever met him, nor seen him,” Anne replied. Then she paused, and Jane waited with impatience. Would the woman ever get to the point? “It is the Duke of Hayfield.”

  Jane’s heart raced and she shook her head slowly. “The Duke of Fire?” she whispered. “How could anyone work for such a beast?” It was true that she had never met or seen the man many referred to as the Duke of Fire, but she had heard of the man. Stories said that five years earlier, the wife of the Duke had been killed in a fire set by none other than the Duke himself. Word had spread that he had not been as quick as he should have been once the fire had been set, thus leaving his body covered in horrible burns. Why he had killed the Duchess of Hayfield was unknown to anyone outside of his intimate circle; however, the prevalent thought was that he was covering up an affair, and the servant girl with whom he had been having that affair had died in the fire alongside the man’s wife.

  “Jane,” Anne said as she placed her hand over Jane’s, “the money is good, but I fear you being around such a dangerous man. If you don’t wish to go, know that you may remain here until something better comes along. If David complains about it, I’ll knock some sense into him one way or another.”

  Jane nodded as she turned back to the brook. It could be dangerous, but what else could she do? If she continued to live here, it would only cause that much more discord between David and Anne, and Jane did not wish that to happen. Her meager savings was all but gone, and she could not burden her cousins for much longer. Plus, she had no references to give, so this might be the only chance of securing a job and relieving the burden she was placing on her cousin.

  “No, I will go,” Jane said finally. “I need the work, and you two need your home returned to you.”

  Anne hugged her tightly and kissed her cheek. “If you do work for him, guard yourself at all times. His brother visits often, from what I’ve heard, but I understand that the Duke might be going mad. If that is the case, even with his brother’s help, he may become even more dangerous than he already is.” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “I hear that he keeps his hair unnaturally long and unkempt and that he speaks to himself. It is why he no longer leaves Wellesley Manor and has not been seen since the fire.”

  Jane considered her cousin’s words. “I will be careful, I promise. If I can, I will keep my distance from the man and my wits about me.”

  Anne hugged her again. “Good. See that you do.”

  “And if must escape in the night?”

  Anne smiled. “Then you will return here.”

  Jane returned Anne’s smile. “Very well. I will send word first thing tomorrow that I would like to interview for the position. Hopefully, he needs someone so desperately that he will overlook my lack of references.”

  “We can only hope,” came Anne’s reply.

  The two women headed back to the cottage. Madman or not, Jane desperately needed the money that was being offered. She just hoped that if she did work for the Duke of Fire, she would not become as mad as he.

  ***

  Although the road leading to the estate appeared as any other road with its line of trees flanking the hardened ground that had been covered in white stones, this one was far different—it led to the Duke of Fire.

  Jane moved along, her footsteps not as hurried as they had been wh
en she began the relatively short journey from the home of her cousin to Wellesley Manor, and she wondered if it had been a mistake coming here. Would the Duke torment her as he had his wife? Or would she wake one night with the house ablaze and the madman laughing as he sought to kill more people who he felt had wronged him in some way? However, despite the desperate thoughts that went through her mind, she continued her trek, for she had nowhere else to go.

  All thoughts left her mind when her destination came into view. The word magnificent did no justice as she stared at the massive structure that made up Wellesley Manor. The windows on the front of the house showed at least three stories and two wings, one on either side that created a U-shape. A large marble fountain bubbled in the middle of a round grassy area, the driveway circling it completely. At each corner that connected the protruding wings to the main part of the house was a round turret with crenellations and merlons alternating at the top that made up the battlements and reminded Jane of teeth jutting from the top. Behind the battlements stood a single man who gazed down upon her with interest, but neither raised his weapon in defense. More than likely they did not see a single woman walking toward the house as any sort of threat, nor should they. Regardless, Jane shivered at the thought of one of them firing a warning shot at her with what she imagined was a crossbow or a rifle of some sort.

  The facade of the building was painted white and trimmed in black. Rich green ivy covered much of the white, and the shrubbery along the front was neatly trimmed. Perhaps the madman inside enjoyed giving the appearance of sanity, or so Jane wondered as she resumed her steps when she realized she had halted to stare in amazement.

  When she got to the door, she let out a deep breath in an attempt to calm her nerves. Her heart jumped as the door opened and a liveried man in his middle years with silver hair stood at attention in the doorway.

  “Miss Jane Harcourt?” the man asked, his voice as stiff as his posture.

  “Yes,” she replied in nearly a whisper.