"Who says I am reformed?" Wyatt asked, and then a pained expression darkened his eyes.
"What is it?"
Wyatt did not pretend to misunderstand his friend's concern. "Amanda is six, Ambrose, and until last night I didn't even know she existed. Christopher hated me so much that he kept even the knowledge of her birth from me. If it hadn't been for Miss Pringle, I might never have known I had a niece."
"Miss Pringle?"
"A teacher at the Portham Academy. That is where Amanda has been living for the past few months."
"The Portham Academy!" Ambrose was clearly horrified. "Good Gad! That's an orphanage, isn't it? How the devil did the child end up there?"
Wyatt quickly told him the sad story, or at least as much of it as he knew. "So, you see," he concluded heavily, "my staff and my blasted solicitor kept me completely ignorant as to Amanda's plight. You may rest assured that had I known of the situation, she wouldn't have spent so much as a single day in that place, let alone all this time."
"You needn't tell me that," Ambrose said, giving Wyatt a chiding look. "But what I do not understand is why your solicitor took it upon himself to keep you in such ignorance. Whatever could he have been thinking?"
"Damned if I know," Wyatt replied, frowning at the thought of Elliott's appalling incompetence. "I pinned back his ears for it, however, and told him if he ever took such liberties again I would dismiss him."
"As well you should," Ambrose grumbled with a shake of his head. "That he should not tell you of the child is bad enough, but to threaten the school for attempting to contact you . . . well, had it been me, I would have already given him the boot."
"Don't think I wasn't tempted, but if truth were to be told, I really cannot blame him for responding as he did to Miss Pringle's missive. She means well enough, but I have yet to meet a more obstreperous female."
"A dragon, is she?" Ambrose asked with a chuckle. "The name brings to mind a tremendous-bosomed lady with spectacles and a fierce expression."
Wyatt remembered a pair of soft breasts that just filled the cup of his hand, and the seductive scent of roses clinging to pale skin. "You're right about the spectacles and the fierce expression," Wyatt admitted, the corners of his mouth curving in a secretive smile. "But as to the other, I cannot say. She is scarce into her twenties, and hardly any bigger than Amanda. Not that her small size matters, mind. The first time I made her acquaintance she held a gun on me."
"You are joking!"
"I am in dead earnest," Wyatt answered, stunned to realize the momentous event had happened only last night. "Not that she meant to shoot me, of course. She assures me she only wished to catch my attention."
"That would have caught mine in a thrice," Ambrose said, shaking his head. "Well, what happened to this remarkable creature? Did you demand the school dismiss her?"
"Not at all. In fact, she is Amanda's new governess."
Ambrose regarded him in complete disbelief, then threw back his head and laughed. "I have to give you credit, Tilton, you are truly the most understanding of employers. What will you do if the dragon pulls a pistol on you a second time? Promote her to housekeeper?"
"Turn her over my knee," Wyatt corrected, his eyes sparkling. "It's what I was tempted to do last night, but I managed to curb the impulse. Should she begin to make a habit of it, however, I shall not vouchsafe my behavior."
"Then allow me to wish you the best of luck, Your Grace," Ambrose said with another toast. "Something tells me you shall have need of it over these next few weeks."
Nia and Amanda spent the first evening in their new home dining in solitary splendor. Amanda seemed quite cast down when the duke didn't join them, and Nia made a mental note to speak to him. She knew it was fashionable amongst the ton for parents to have as little to do with their children as possible, but as far as she was concerned His Grace would simply have to set a new fashion. Amanda needed the reassurance of her uncle's presence, and Nia meant to see she received it.
After seeing her charge safely settled in her huge bed, Nia retired to her own set of rooms, which for convenience's sake was located across the hall from Amanda's. She'd explored the rooms shortly after her arrival, and she still felt slightly dazed that such elegance was hers. Compared to her room at the academy and the quarters she'd endured in her travels with her father, her new surroundings were positively luxurious, and she was determined to repay the duke for his generosity.
Thinking of Lord Tilton brought a faint frown to her face, and as she sat brushing her hair Nia brooded over the enigmatic man who was now her employer. When she'd first met him she'd thought him impossibly high in the instep, but seeing him with Amanda had altered that perception. He was so gentle with the little girl, and far more patient than she would ever have credited. He seemed genuinely concerned with her welfare, and that more than anything made her willing to overlook his high-handed behavior. Provided, she added with a self-deprecatory grin, he didn't become too top-lofty. There were limits to what she was willing to tolerate even for Amanda's sake.
The next morning Nia rose early, eager to begin her new life. At her previous post she had been expected to keep her own rooms clean, and she was in the process of making her bed when there was a light tap on her door and the nursemaid walked in.
"Why, Miss Pringle, what be you doing?" she cried, her hands flying to her cheeks.
"I am making my bed," Nia answered, wondering what ailed the younger woman. Judging from her expression one would have thought she'd been caught pinching the family's silver, she thought sourly, giving her pillow a final fluff before placing it on the counterpane.
"Oh, you needn't bother with that, miss," the nursemaid said, hurrying into the room. "Your maid will see to it."
"My maid?" Nia stared at her in surprise.
"Didn't Mrs. Mayton tell you. His Grace has ordered that you be given your own maid. To see to your things and such so that you'll be free to look after Lady Amanda," she added when Nia continued staring at her. " 'Tis the way things are done in the better households."
Nia bristled at the condescension in the nursemaid's voice. "I see," she said, drawing herself up to her full height. "That is very generous of His Grace. Thank you, Nancy."
"You're welcome, Miss Pringle." Having scored her victory, the nursemaid was eager to make friends. "I just peeked in on her ladyship, and she's still fast asleep. Will you be wanting to get her up for her breakfast?"
Nia considered the matter and then shook her head. "No, I think it will be all right if we let her sleep in just this once. But after today I'll expect her to be up by eight o'clock. Idleness has ruined kings, you know."
"If you say so." Nancy looked as if she wasn't sure how to take such a stricture. "I'll just be getting back to her ladyship's room, then. Will there be anything else?"
"No, that will be fine," Nia said, wondering if she ought to remind the maid that she had come into her room on her own accord. Then she thought of something. "Oh, wait."
"Yes?"
"In my other positions I usually took my meals with my pupils. Is that how it is done in this house?"
"Yes, miss. You and Lady Amanda are to take all your meals in the sitting room. Unless His Grace should say otherwise, I suppose," she added, after giving the matter careful thought.
Nia recalled her decision to request the duke eat with them on occasion, and was about to say something when she suddenly thought better of it. Perhaps it would be best if she waited a few more days, she decided. She needed to set up a schedule for Amanda before she began disrupting it. Once things were running smoothly, she would approach His Grace and arrange something.
After a quick breakfast Nia went to the small parlor she had chosen as their schoolroom. Under her orders several footmen carried down a set of desks and books from the attic, and by the time Amanda came dashing in to greet her, Nia had everything ready for her. They spent the rest of the morning working on Amanda's sums, and were about to begin on her penmanship when something
made Nia glance toward the door. The duke was standing there, his dark eyes narrowed as he studied his niece.
"Uncle!" Amanda threw down her pen and raced to his side. "Have you come to visit me?"
"That I have, poppet," Wyatt answered, a reluctant smile softening his features at the delight in her voice. "I thought I would look in and see how you and Miss Pringle are doing. How do you like your new home?"
"It's beautiful!" Amanda assured him anxiously, lest he think her ungrateful and send her packing. "It's the most beautifullest house I've ever seen."
"Most beautiful," Nia corrected, rising to her feet and giving the duke a polite curtsey. "Good morning, Your Grace. I trust you are well?"
Wyatt gave her a cool look. "Quite well, Miss Pringle, thank you," he said. "And you? Have you found all to your liking?"
"Indeed I have," Nia replied, taking her clue from his distant manner. "Your staff is proving most helpful."
"Good, good, you must let Mrs. Mayton know if you lack for anything, and she shall see to it," he said, gently pushing Amanda to one side as he began exploring the new schoolroom. Books he remembered from his childhood were arranged on a shelf, and one title in particular caught his attention. Delighted, he picked it up, running a finger down the cracked spine.
"Tacitus," he exclaimed, flipping open the book and thumbing through the pages. "Gad, I can remember how Christopher and I used to spend hours locked in our schoolroom while our tutor tried to drum the finer points of Latin into our unwilling heads. Whatever is it doing here?"
"Because I am attempting to drum the finer points of Latin into Amanda," Nia said, suddenly intrigued by the image of the duke as a rebellious schoolboy. She could imagine he had been a rare handful, and her heart quite went out to the unknown tutor.
Wyatt glanced up at that. "You are teaching my niece Latin?" he asked, faintly surprised. Granted, he was unfamiliar with the curriculum for young ladies, but he doubted it usually included the classic languages.
"Indeed, I am," Nia replied, preparing to defend her choice to him. "It is the basis for all the romance languages, and if Amanda is to fully understand Italian and Spanish, to say nothing of French, then it is imperative that she know Latin."
"I quite agree," Wyatt said, returning the book to its shelf. "But it is required that she speak Italian and Spanish? They hardly seem necessary skills for a lady."
"All knowledge is useful," Nia said, resenting his words, although, in truth, she had encountered them more than once during her years as a teacher. Why men seemed to think a woman's knowledge should be limited to watercolors and frocks she knew not, but it did seem to be the prevailing attitude.
"So it is." Wyatt decided to let the matter drop. He'd already surmised Miss Pringle was a bluestocking, and so long as she didn't expose Amanda to anything too unseemly, he didn't mind what she thought.
"I already know some Latin, Uncle," Amanda piped up, hoping to please him. " 'Magna est veritas'; truth is mighty."
"Very good, Amanda," he praised, patting her head. "You've inherited your father's talent for languages, it would seem."
Amanda's eyes shone with curiosity. "Did my papa speak Latin?" she asked.
A pained expression crossed Wyatt's face. "He took honors at his forum," he said, recalling the party his father had given when Christopher had returned from Oxford. It was just before his brother went into the army, and it was one of the last times he and Christopher had seen each other before their falling out.
Amanda was too young to note the change in her uncle's mood, but Nia was not so innocent. She saw the bleak agony in the duke's eyes, and wondered what had put it there. Before she could speculate any further there was a knock at the door, and a footman entered.
"I beg your pardon, Your Grace," he said with a low bow, "but Mr. Johns says Mr. Royston has arrived for your ride, and is waiting for you in the front drawing room."
"Thank you, Stephen. Pray tell Mr. Royston I shall be with him in a moment." Wyatt acknowledged the message with a curt nod. When the servant departed, Wyatt turned his attention to Amanda, who had taken his hand in hers and was staring up at him hopefully.
"I am afraid I must be off, Amanda," he said, squeezing her fingers with regret. "But I'll look in on you when I return."
"Promise?" She gave him a melting look.
Wyatt gave a soft chuckle. "I promise," he said, aware he was being shamelessly manipulated. "In the meanwhile mind you obey your governess, hmm?" He met Miss Pringle's hazel gaze.
"Ma'am," he said formally, "I wish you good day. Again, if you lack for anything, you have only to tell a member of the staff. They will fetch it for you."
"Yes, Your Grace," Nia answered, impressed with his kindness. "Enjoy your ride."
That day set the pattern for those that followed, and Wyatt made a point of stopping by the schoolroom each morning. He took tea with them one afternoon, and at Miss Pringle's suggestion agreed to dine with them at least one evening a week. He mentioned this to Ambrose as they were out riding some ten days later, and was annoyed by his friend's amused response.
"Good lord, but you are becoming domesticated," Ambrose accused, his blue eyes teasing as he studied Wyatt's face. "You'll take to powdering your hair and criticizing the prince for his loose living, if you aren't careful."
Wyatt shot him a black look, failing to find any humor in the situation. "I've already criticized the prince for his racketing ways," he informed Ambrose coolly. "And what is wrong with my becoming 'domesticated,' as you put it? I am thirty, you know. It is past time I was settling down and setting up my nursery."
"Yes, but it is generally done using one's own children, rather than usurping those of one's brother," Ambrose quipped. "And I assure you, no criticism of your behavior was intended. I quite approve of your dining with your niece. I have never understood this nonsense of hiding one's children away until they are of age. Why go to the bother of having the little wretches, if you only lock them in the attic like a mad relation?"
Wyatt's anger faded at this wry observation. "I shall have to share that observation with Miss Pringle," he said, his mouth curving as he imagined her response. "I sometimes get the impression she thinks me neglectful in my duties toward Amanda."
"That is the way it is with these governesses," Ambrose said with a solemn nod. "They have but to look at one in that all-knowing way of theirs, and one is left feeling like a guilty schoolboy with jam-stained fingers."
"Perhaps Miss Pringle is not quite so bad as that," Wyatt replied with a low chuckle. "Although I do confess to worrying my cravat may not be tied correctly when I am in her presence. She is a most formidable lady."
"So it would seem," Ambrose agreed, straightening in his saddle with sudden alertness. "And speaking of formidable ladies, look who is coming this way."
Wyatt grew wary at the sight of the approaching group of riders. There were several ladies among them, and he had no trouble identifying the two stunning beauties at the front. There were the twin daughters of his nearest neighbor in the country, and he'd spent the better part of several seasons dodging the attempts of their respective parents to foster a match between himself and one of them.
"Good morning Your Grace, Mr. Royston." Lady Alexandria Declaire, now Lady Geoffrey Covingdale, greeted them with a languid smile, her dark green eyes full of speculation. "I hope the two of you are enjoying the morning?"
"Indeed we are, Lady Geoffrey," Wyatt answered, raising his hat to her and the others. "And what brings you out at such an unfashionable hour? It is scarce eleven o'clock."
"We are here to act as duennas for our Katie's gallop with Captain Addams," replied Lady Anne, the countess of Redvale, edging her bay closer to Wyatt's stallion. "Even though she is twenty she is still unmarried, and so we must keep a watchful eye on her reputation." She turned to the simply dressed blond riding next to her. "Katie, dearest, you do remember the duke of Tilton, do you not? He is papa's neighbor."
"Yes, we have met before," Lady Cath
erine Declaire replied in a soft voice, lifting blue-gray eyes to meet Wyatt's gaze. "It is nice to see you again, Your Grace."
"Lady Catherine." Wyatt gave her a polite smile, trying to remember when they had met. It must have been during her first season, he decided, for he'd spent most of last year in mourning for his brother. "May I say how lovely you are looking?" he added, too polite to admit the truth. "I don't believe I've ever seen you on horseback."
"It is good to have you back in London, Your Grace," Lady Geoffrey said before Lady Catherine could acknowledge his compliment. "And do allow me to extend my belated condolences on the loss of your brother. He died in battle, you know." She added this as an aside to the bored young dandy in the uniform of a Fusilier.
"The dangers of a soldier's life," Captain Addams responded with a shrug. "Take Waterloo, for example. We carted 'em off by the wagonload. Is that where your brother fell, Your Grace?" he asked, flicking Wyatt a languid look.
"New Orleans," Wyatt corrected through clenched teeth. The captain's indifference to the appalling suffering of his fellow soldiers infuriated him, and it was all he could do not to knock the other man from his horse. He doubted the useless little dandy had ever seen anything more dangerous than a parade field.
"Ah, the American nonsense." Captain Addams gave a prim sniff. "Waste of men and shot, if you want my opinion. To say nothing of the havoc it raised with our commerce. My father lost two ships to those demmed privateers. Beg pardon, ladies." He dutifully apologized for his rough language.
"Speaking of poor Christopher, what is this I hear about your adopting his daughter?" Lady Anne interposed quickly. "I was unaware that he had any children."
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