His Bewitching Jewel (A Regency Holiday Romance Book 7)

by Mathews, Marly

  She looked at him with worry shining in her beautiful green eyes. “I…I guess no harm can come with dining with you, sir. I have left my old life behind. I don’t have to do the things I used to do, anymore. Do I?”

  “Indeed you do not, Miss Massey. You are far away from that confining world. And besides, coming to dine with me would make me exceedingly happy, and I wouldn’t ask anything else of you for at least a few days.”

  “Is that a promise?” she asked, her voice wavering slightly. She obviously didn’t believe him. He should have felt a little injured by it, and all he could do was fall even deeper in love with her.

  “Aye,” he answered. “You have my word.”

  Sighing heavily, she closed the door behind him, and walked with him back to the Dining Room. It was a shame they didn’t have more time for her to change, but if he had given her that option, he believed she would have found a way to beg off. She would have found a way to elude him. He wanted to keep her by his side for as long as he was able.

  Ruby Massey might accomplish what no other woman had ever been able to do…she might drag him to the altar. He wanted to possess her, he wanted to claim her as his, and from the fine family she hailed from, she wouldn’t take an offer of carte-blanche. The only way he would be able to make her his—was if he made her his wife—if he made her his duchess.

  Chapter Nine

  Ruby trailed a little bit behind him, and he realized that his long strides made it almost impossible for her to keep up. She was built like a little pixie. He slowed his pace, so she could keep up with him, and felt a sense of contentment pervade his being, as she walked alongside him. He didn’t want her to ever go away. He didn’t want her to ever feel as if she had to run from him.

  He stopped abruptly, and she came to a halt as well, gasping for breath. Apparently, his slower pace hadn’t quite been slow enough. He sighed, “I have been an absolute churl, Miss Massey. Pray, take my arm.”

  She sighed, and looked at his arm a little warily. “If I take your arm, Your Grace, shall you try to walk a little slower, or will you merely drag me to the Dining Room?” she asked the question with a twinkle in her eyes.

  He chuckled. “I shall be a gentleman, Miss, and I shall escort you to the Dining Room with no injury to your person. I assure you.”

  She debated the matter a moment longer, before finally taking his arm. He placed his free hand over her hand, and patted it. She looked a little frightened by his gesture. However, she remained steadfast.

  As he led her into the grandeur that was the 16th Century Dining Room, her sharply inhaled breath, told him that she had been quite undone by it. It was one of the crowning achievements of Penryn House, and was one of his favourite rooms. Now he wanted to show her the whole house, he wanted to show her all of the State Rooms, and watch for her reaction.

  He particularly wanted to show her the Morning Room, oh, how he wished they could take their breakfast there tomorrow morning. His mother had added her own special touch to the Morning Room, and had transformed it into a more informal and relaxed room, and it served as both as the small dining room, and as a reception room. It was reserved mainly for members of the family and only a few trusted friends had been invited to dine there. He could have taken her there for their dinner tonight, and yet, he had wanted her to see his grandmother’s portrait and the beautiful craftsmanship that had gone into this grand room. Now that he had her company, he never wanted to be without it.

  “Oh…this is beautiful,” she exclaimed, her lovely green eyes dancing with delight. He felt a swell of pride and satisfaction, as she gobbled up the awe-inspiring room with her eyes.

  He watched, as she admired the fine carved oak frieze and oak linenfold panelling, fine furniture and family portraits. The Sir Joshua Reynolds portrait of his grandmother dominated the space. She looked almost ethereal in the portrait, as she walked in pastoral nature. The wistful look on her face keenly reminded him of Cordelia. Cordelia favoured his side of the family, and for that, he was immensely grateful.

  “She looks almost as if she once danced with the pixies,” Ruby mused.

  “That is my grandmother, Lady Cordelia Trelawney…the woman for whom Cordelia is named.”

  “I can see the resemblance. It is rather startling,” Ruby mused, as she settled herself at the table. The footman moved back once he assisted her with her chair.

  “Most do when they see this portrait. She was a lovely and warm woman, and I will forever cherish the memory of her. If Cordelia turns out like her, then, I shall be very glad for it.”

  The first course of white soup was brought in, and he watched her look at in consternation.

  “Is there something amiss?” he asked softly.

  Mrs. Chegwin was a good cook, he couldn’t see where she wouldn’t like it.

  “I don’t seem to have much room, quite honestly,” she said. “I haven’t had much of an appetite all day long.”

  “How was the food during the course of your journey to Cornwall?” he asked.

  She smiled. “I had quite a few scotch eggs to see me through it, not to mention far too many hard biscuits and almonds. I fear my waistline might have suffered a bit from it,” she chuckled nervously, and then coloured up, as she realized her grievous error in mentioning her waistline to him. “I…oh, dear, that wasn’t the proper thing to say, was it?” she sighed, and turned her attention forlornly back to her soup.

  “You can say whatever you wish in my company,” he said, winking at her. “I shan’t tell on you.”

  She looked up at him, and amidst the redness of her cheeks, she gave him a tremulous smile. “Thank you, Your Grace. I greatly appreciate that,” she said, quickly bobbing her head back down to regard her soup.

  Damn the soup.

  He didn’t want her looking at her food, he wanted her looking at him!

  “I am quite certain you have had to sit through long dinners before,” he said cautiously, hoping to elicit a confession from her. He wanted to know her entire history. He wanted to know everything there was to know about her. He had never found someone so fascinating, and perhaps, it was her simplicity of being that made her so alluring to him.

  She had no airs. She had attempted to act haughty with him earlier today, and he had seen that she had been mimicking a person or persons that she had once been familiar with because it hadn’t suited her at all, although her attempt at doing it was quite entertaining.

  She had to leave the haughtiness to him. He knew how to do it with aplomb, and he could successfully achieve it without looking as if he was trying too hard.

  “On occasion,” she said thoughtfully. “My uncle hated the ruddy things, as he called them, although, he did like his food. He just didn’t like all of the pomp and circumstance that sometimes accompanies them.”

  “And you were very fond of your uncle?”

  “I am…I mean, I was,” she hurried out, and wincing. “Oh, dash it all,” she sighed, as the next course was brought in, and set before her. “I can’t keep up the pretense for long, and I can’t say I like pretending that my uncle has passed on. He is quite alive, sir, and that is the end of that subject.”

  Finn’s mind raced. So, her uncle was alive, and yet, here she was on her own, working as a governess for him. It made no bloody sense. What had instilled such fear in her that she had run from home?

  “Ah, now I understand,” he said, watching her closely. “Your uncle found a wife and the new wife didn’t like you, so she had you booted out.”

  She laughed nervously. “A wife? Oh, good grief, no. My uncle lost his beloved wife years ago, before I was born, and from that day onward, he swore never to marry again. He loved her true, you see. He often says that she ruined him for another.”

  “It must have been hard for him,” he said sympathetically. “I don’t think I would ever be able to get over losing my true love.”

  He gave her a searing look. He knew he wouldn’t be able to recover. He was looking at the only woma
n who had ever tugged on his heartstrings. He was looking at the woman who would command him until his dying day.

  “I do not think he has ever fully recovered, although his comfort through the years has been the child she left him.” With those words, her eyes went as wide as he had ever seen them. She swallowed with difficulty, and sighed. “I do believe, sir that you are trying to lead me into confessing all to you.”

  “Ah, you have seen right through me. I do want to know everything there is to know about you, Miss Massey.”

  “I…uh…” she seemed lost for words. She took a moment to collect her thoughts, and then sighed again, as she looked at the food set before her. Setting her fork aside, she clutched her napkin in her lap, as if it was the only thing giving her courage. “What I have to tell you, Your Grace, would only bore you to tears. I am a wallflower, and in the social circles I used to frequent, I was known as such. Those who loved me looked at me as the quaint little relation who was just there. I wasn’t exactly a person who set the ton afire with the gossip of my many adventures.”

  “And so you admit that you were once a part of the world I still inhabit.”

  She pressed her lips together. Obviously, she had decided to remain quiet, but he knew that resolution wouldn’t last for long.

  “Your uncle was he titled, or just full of juice?”

  “I shan’t answer that question, sir,” she said, staring at the portrait that hung on the wall across from her, so she wouldn’t have to look at him.

  “From your frock, plain as it is, I would hazard a guess that he was swimming in lard. As for being titled, if he is, I have probably met him at my club, unless of course, he is a member of Brooks’s.”

  “Oh, no, he is a member of Boodle’s. Oh, blast it,” she sighed, her face going scarlet red again.

  “Then, he is a country gentleman, and he is well-inlaid, and as such you were a part of my world.”

  She stood up, doing so in such haste that the footmen didn’t have the opportunity to assist her with her chair. “You, sir, said you wouldn’t ask anything else of me tonight, and you are not a man of your word.” She tossed her napkin down onto the table, and moved to leave.

  He stood up, and caught her before she could leave the Dining Room. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he felt her stiffen. He was being all too familiar with her, and he didn’t regret it one bit.

  “You are right. I am a colossal fool. I have acted like a bloody bastard.”

  “Well,” she said softly. “I wouldn’t say that. That is a wee bit harsh, sir.”

  “Why don’t we go back to talking about my nieces, or talking about the weather? Or, we could talk about Penryn House. I shan’t ask you to confess anything else to me until you are quite ready to do so.”

  She settled herself back onto her chair, and looked at him quizzically. “What happened to the governess that was here before me?” she asked softly, curiosity lit her gaze. He cleared his throat, instantly feeling uncomfortable, and taking a soothing sip of his wine, he prepared to tell her the entire tale. She might be unwilling to divulge certain areas of her past to him, but he wasn’t. And if having the knowledge facilitated her in her quest to educate his nieces, then, so be it.

  “I dismissed her because she was cruel,” he said, “And I have never been able to abide cruel women—or men.”

  “Cruel to Lady Cordelia?” she asked softly, her voice only a bit above a whisper.

  “Aye. She…she lost her temper with the girls, and that…that was her first offense. I met with her, intent upon dismissing her, and I almost balked when I saw her. She looked so pitiable, and then, then, she opened her blasted bloody big mouth, and told me exactly what she thought of Cordelia. And, that was a grievous error on her part. She told me that Lady Cordelia was a simple child. She said that she wouldn’t waste her time teaching her because she had a pea-sized intellect, and that she would not go far in this world, and that she simply could not abide a child who dreamed, and who believed in fairy stories. To which I promptly told her that she would not go far in this world, and that her services were no longer required. She looked as if the world had been ripped out of from beneath her, and I have never been so glad to see such a soul crushing expression in all of my life.”

  “Bravo, sir,” she said. “I think dreamers are exactly what we need in this world.”

  “I expect you dreamt a lot as a child,” he mused.

  She laughed, her expression going distant, as memories flooded over her. “I probably did. My mother wouldn’t have encouraged it though, and I do remember my father telling her to leave me alone. After he passed, my uncle took over for him. I was allowed to have a fanciful childhood, as long as she wasn’t around.”

  Finn smiled. He had encouraged her to open up a little bit more about herself, and she hadn’t yet realized her folly.

  He was about to continue to see what else he could learn about her without prodding, when a terrifying scream carried to them. He stood up at the same time she did.

  “What…what was that?” she asked, the colour draining from her face.

  They each exchanged a worried glance, and bolted for the door.

  Ruby and the Duke ran out into the Great Hall, and came across a terrified maid. Mrs. Teague was berating her while the young girl sobbed uncontrollably.

  “I…I saw him…he has come back to murder us all in our beds, he has,” she stammered. “He…he had blood in his eyes.”

  “Be quiet, you insolent girl. Look what you have done!” Mrs. Teague scolded.

  The crying maid had dropped the tray she had been carrying and her face was red, splotchy and wet from crying.

  Ruby’s heart raced. The sound of the girl’s terrified scream still echoed in her head. She didn’t think she would ever forget it. It had been bone chilling, and set her teeth quite on edge.

  She chanced a glance over at the Duke, and he, too, looked a little unsettled. “It is no matter,” he said softly. “It can be easily replaced. Now, both of you return to your duties, and Mrs. Teague, leave the poor girl alone.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” she said, curtsying to him, before grabbing the maid’s arm, and pulling her along with her. “You will clean up that mess, so help me, you will.” Ruby heard her hissing, as they hurried out of sight.

  “I think my appetite has been quite ruined,” Ruby murmured, walking as if in a daze, through the grand house. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she wanted to get well enough away from the area where the maid had screamed.

  He hastened after her. “Pray, Miss Massey, where are you off to?”

  She shook her head. “I haven’t an inkling, sir.”

  He caught up with her, and pulled her around to face her. “You look terrified.”

  “I…this house…it is not as tranquil as its lovely interior might make one think. There are things…there are entities that haunt this place that are quite unnerving, sir. And what…what did the maid mean when she said that he was coming back to murder us in our beds?” She realized a moment too late that she had placed her hands against his chest, and she had clutched his waistcoat between her fingers, in what was clearly a desperate gesture.

  He looked furtively about, and without uttering another word, he guided her into the nearest room, which, just happened to be the Library. He led her over to a sofa, and they settled down upon it. She shouldn’t have allowed him to be this close to her—she shouldn’t have allowed herself to be so close to him, but he was right.

  She was scared witless, and she didn’t welcome spending another night, alone in her bedchamber while ungodly noises went on outside of her room, and if that weight pressed down upon the end of her bed again, she would die of fear.

  He held her hand between both of his. “You…you mustn’t pay any mind to the ghosts in this old house of mine. They won’t hurt you. Trust me, Miss Massey.” At his words, the flames of the fire died out, and as their eyes went to it, the flames grew once more. The unsettling sight only added t
o her feelings of uneasiness.

  “I don’t believe you,” she said, her voice trembling. “I can see it in your eyes. Doubt lingers behind your false bravado. What did the maid mean? Pray, tell me, Your Grace.” With the candlelight flickering around them, he looked quite handsome. She would have thought their setting to be wonderfully romantic, if only they were here under different circumstances.

  “I… I can’t answer that question, Ruby,” he said, standing up, and starting to restlessly pace in front of her. He was just as restless as she was, and she wanted answers. She had always been one for a mystery—but not this kind of a mystery. No, this was far too scary for her taste.

  “You warned me about supernatural occurrences only last night,” she sighed. So much had happened in one day. She felt as if she had been awake for days, and as if she had known the Duke forever. Almost as if their souls recognized each other, as if they had been reunited after a long separation. “Answer me this, sir—what ghost in this house scratches continually at my door? And then, right after that, something or someone entered my room, and sat on the end of my bed. I didn’t like it one bit, sir.”

  “Are…” he stopped pacing. “Are you quite certain?” he asked, his eyes almost wild. He looked quite nonplussed by her latest revelation.

  “Aye, quite,” she said crisply. “There is no mistaking that kind of weight pressing against your feet.”

  “The scratching at the door has been experienced by some of the maids, and blessedly, the children have never had to endure it…but a weight on the end of the bed…I haven’t heard that story yet.”

  “It is not a story, sir,” she bristled indignantly. Thinking that he was not giving credence to her words made her furious. She stood up. “I should retire to my rooms, and pray that I can get a few winks of sleep, this night. Goodnight to you, Your Grace,” she said, keeping her tone cool, and emotionally detached. She curtsied to him, and watched him incline his head in return. Quickly, before he could regain his senses, and attempt to waylay her, she fled the room, and raced for the staircase.