Never Doubt a Duke

by Regina Scott

  ~~~

  Stupid! Why had she taken such a chance? Of course he’d refused her. Dukes did not marry governesses or cavalry officer’s widows. Even Larissa knew that. Why couldn’t Jane get it through her head?

  She wasn’t some green schoolgirl, wide-eyed at the idea of love and marriage. She’d loved and lost. Alaric was nothing like Jimmy. There was no reason to expect a second love as great as the first.

  Or perhaps even greater.

  She stopped at the foot of the stairs leading to the schoolroom suite, pressed her back against the silk-draped wall, gulped in a breath as tears started to fall. Her impetuous heart had led her to abandon her family, follow a husband through mud and war. It shouted now that, against all odds, she had found another man to love and cherish. The problem was, he didn’t want her.

  No, that wasn’t right. He wanted her. His kiss proved as much. So did the fact that he had believed her over Mrs. Travers. He might even love her, but not enough. Duty must come first. Like Jimmy and the cavalry, Alaric served another. And he had chosen it over her.

  She drew out her handkerchief, dabbed the tears from her cheeks. She had never been one to lament her fate. Most of the time it had been a fate she’d courted. So what if her dreams were thwarted now? Upstairs were three little girls who needed her. She had a position and a calling. Perhaps that would be enough to fill the hole in her heart.

  But she doubted it.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Why must we ride today?” Larissa whined as Jane finished fastening Belle’s riding habit. “It’s raining.”

  It had been raining nearly every moment of the past two days since she’d proposed to Alaric, as if the sun had gone into hiding like her heart.

  “It’s only a drizzle,” Jane said, rising. “Cavalry officers ride in the rain.”

  Larissa sniffed. “We are not cavalry officers.”

  “And not likely to be so sure in the saddle if you let a little rain scare you off.” She smiled at them all. “We’ll only go to the western tip and back. That’s not very far. A little air will do you good.”

  Larissa sighed but followed her from the schoolroom.

  Mr. Quayle was complimentary as he had the grooms assist them into their saddles. “Ladies who ride in poor weather will be better suited to handle life’s difficulties.”

  Larissa did not appear to be comforted.

  Neither did Belle. She eyed the pony with a frown. “When may I ride Unicorn?”

  “When the weather improves,” Jane said. “You wouldn’t want to splash mud on her pretty white coat.”

  “Unicorns like mud,” Belle insisted.

  “I don’t,” Larissa grumbled.

  Still Belle balked. “If I can’t ride Unicorn, I want to ride all by myself.”

  Mr. Quayle frowned. “I’m not sure that’s advisable.”

  Jane went to the pony, ran a hand over its coat. “You’ve always chosen a reliable mount.”

  “Of course,” the master of horse said, grey head coming up. “It’s her ladyship that concerns me.”

  Belle stood taller. “I can do it.”

  Jane believed her. That little body held a great deal of determination. “There you have it, Mr. Quayle. If you’d be so kind as to help her up.”

  The master of horse moved slowly to comply as a groom helped Jane into her sidesaddle. She glanced at Mr. Quayle. “All clear this morning?”

  She’d told him the day before that she preferred the girls to ride at times other than their father until they had a little more practice and could do him proud. She knew Alaric was already proud of his daughters. She was the one who wasn’t ready to face him after her outburst in the library. She’d even sent the three girls down together to make her report the last two nights, knowing that Callie would repeat exactly what she was told.

  “His Grace left this morning to check the river level upstream,” Mr. Quayle said. “Mr. Harden, one of the tenants, is managing the lock today, and he won’t act unless His Grace or Mr. Willard the steward orders it. You won’t run into anyone.”

  With a grateful nod, Jane urged her horse out of the stable yard, Belle at her side and Larissa and Callie just ahead.

  Even with grey skies and hard rain wetting her cheeks, she couldn’t help relaxing in the saddle. Green shoots poked up across the fields, and birds called from the thickets along the river.

  “Gentle on the bit, Callie,” she reminded her charge. “There’s no need to keep reining in.”

  “But he wants to go faster than I do,” Callie said, arms flexed as she tugged on the reins.

  “Then hold the reins tight, but still,” Jane advised. “He’ll understand.”

  Callie must have complied, for the horse obligingly slowed.

  Jane nodded. “Very good. You’ll make captain yet.”

  Callie glanced back at her with a grin.

  “I wish you would stop comparing us to the cavalry,” Larissa said, voice heavy with a pout. “We are ladies.”

  “Indeed you are,” Jane told her, “and I know no one more judged by how well they sit a horse other than the men of the cavalry. Do you want to be left behind when your father goes fox hunting?”

  “Father doesn’t hold with fox hunting,” Callie reported. “He says it’s unkind to the fox and ruins the fields.”

  He would, and she couldn’t help admiring him for it. “Very well. Don’t you want to beat the gentleman who challenges you to a race?”

  Larissa raised her head in derision, then quickly ducked against the rain. “A gentleman would never ask a lady to race.”

  “Not if she rides like a slug.”

  “Have you ever raced?” Belle wanted to know, sitting serenely in her seat.

  “Once or twice,” Jane admitted. “And always with my husband. He won, of course. Never could top Jimmy in the saddle.”

  “I’ll ride better,” Larissa predicted. “I’ll practice and practice until there isn’t a lady who can match me.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  Belle shifted on her seat, glancing around. “Where did the birds go?”

  Jane frowned. Something was wrong. The birds had fallen silent. Instead, a sharp crack rang through the air, like a giant working a forge.

  “What’s that?” Callie asked.

  Larissa craned her neck as if to see. “It sounds like its coming from Father’s lock.”

  Jane clucked to the horse, and they all moved closer to the copse of alder that hid the gates from view of the road. The noise grew louder even as they approached. Then it suddenly stopped.

  Jane pulled up and slid from the sidesaddle, keeping the reins in one hand as she eased closer to the lock. What she saw drew her up hard. Someone had attempted to chop through the capstan. Rain ran in rivulets down the deep cuts. The ax blade was embedded deep in the wood, preventing the gates from being cranked open. Already they bowed inward as the rising river tried to shove its way through.

  Jane straightened. “Something happened to the lock gates,” she told the girls. “We need to alert Mr. Quayle to send someone after your father.”

  “You’ll be telling no one.”

  Jane gasped as a male body slammed into hers. The reins whipped from her fingers, and she heard Callie scream.

  Jane dug in her heels to keep from falling as Simmons pinned her arms to her sides.

  “This is your fault,” he said, shaking rain from his head. “You tried to force me off the only home I ever knew, just like the old duke forced my father. Things were never right after that. I came back for revenge, and I won’t go until you all suffer.”

  Jane didn’t wait to hear more. As Jimmy had taught her, she brought her knee up to collide with Simmons’s frame. He sucked in a breath, releasing her and doubling over. It was the work of a moment to make sure her knee met his jaw as well. He collapsed in the mud.

  She whirled to find Callie staring at her, horse turning in agitated circles, while Jane’s mount showed white around its eyes.


  “Where are Larissa and Belle?” Jane cried, hurrying toward her.

  “The pony ran off with Belle, and Larissa said she would go after her.” Callie managed to point back the way they had come.

  “Right.” Fear hastened her steps. She calmed Callie’s horse, then focused on her own. Crooning and standing patiently, she convinced the poor beast to allow her to tug him toward a rock to help her climb back into the saddle. It was some moments before she accomplished it.

  As she urged the horse forward, Callie alongside, she glanced back at the lock. The gates were starting to groan against the onslaught of the river. The Thames was rising. With the chain damaged, would they have any way to stop the flood?

  ~~~

  The rain picked up as Alaric rode toward the stables. He’d seen enough upstream to know they were in for it. He could only pray the lock would work.

  “Beastly day,” his steward said, wiping water from his face. “I’ve never seen so much mud.”

  Too much mud, too much water, too much work—the rhythm of his life. It seemed as if the entire world had darkened since he’d turned Jane away. She refused to see him. Though he’d enjoyed talking with his girls the last two nights, he couldn’t help wishing Jane had come with them. He had to find a way to mend this rift between them, without giving her hope that they could ever wed. Surely he could find a way to converse with her, spend times with the girls with her, travel to London and see Astley’s again without remembering the feel of her in his arms.

  He must have groaned aloud, for Willard rode a little closer. “I’ll change horses and go straight to the lock, Your Grace.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Alaric told him. He urged the horse along as fast as was safe to reach the stables, where he ordered a fresh horse.

  Quayle didn’t argue, passing the reins to a stable boy. “Check on Mrs. Kimball and the girls on your way to the lock. They rode that direction a while ago. I would have expected them back by now.”

  He felt as if the icy rain had dribbled down his back. “Mrs. Kimball and the girls rode out in this?”

  “Yes, Your Grace. Do you want me to send someone with you in case there’s trouble?”

  “No time,” he said, swinging up into the saddle of the horse a groom had just brought out. “Have the grooms saddle up and follow Willard.”

  Quayle and Willard nodded as Alaric called to his mount and galloped from the yard.

  The horse only lengthened its stride as they cleared the buildings. They pelted down the track, trees and fields flying on either side, mud churning up behind. Peering through the rain, he tried to make out another set of riders, but nowhere did he see the dear little trio led by the dark-haired woman who had stolen his heart. All he could do was send up a prayer for their safety.

  He was nearly at the lock when he heard a call. Reining in, he saw Jane and Callie cantering toward him. His heart leaped, then sank again.

  “Where are Larissa and Belle?” he asked as soon as they came abreast. Jane’s riding habit was sodden, the hem crusted with mud as if she had slipped from the horse. Callie was shivering, hair clinging to her skin.

  “We’re going after them,” Jane said. “The pony ran away with Belle, and Larissa went after her. But you’re needed here. There’s trouble at the lock. Simmons damaged it to punish us. The gates are closed, and the river is trying to force its way through.”

  He should go after his daughters. Their lives might depend on it. Yet if he didn’t manage to open the gates, all their work to save the fields would be for nothing. People could lose their lives along with their livelihoods. Duty and love battled inside him.

  Jane reached across the space and lay her hand on his. “Open the gates. Callie and I will save Larissa and Belle.”

  All along she’d asked him to trust her—with his home, with his daughter’s schooling, with his heart. All along, he’d fought her. Giving in had never felt so right.

  “Go,” he said. “I know you’ll take care of our girls.” He leaned across the space, pressed a quick kiss to her lips, then put his heels to the horse’s flanks and urged the beast into a gallop once more.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Jane watched him go, heart swelling. She’d blamed him for putting his duty before his daughters, before her, yet how could she love a man who would do less? When it came to the choice of gratifying his own wishes or meeting the needs of others, he always thought of those who depended on him first. In every way, he was a hero.

  Callie shivered beside her, recalling her to her own duty now. Somehow, she thought the pony Belle had been riding would make for the known, which meant back toward the stables at either the home farm or the castle. But Alaric had surely just come from that direction. He hadn’t seen Belle or Larissa. There was only one other direction they might have gone. She directed the horses away from the lock onto the road that led toward the northern edge of the island.

  The rain was pounding down now, wind bending the grass and peppering drops against her face. The icy grey river streamed relentlessly along, sucking at the roots of the alders, pulling at the shore. She sent up a prayer for safety, for Belle and Larissa, for Alaric, and for her and Callie.

  “There!” Callie pointed, and Jane made out two horses standing beside the bulrushes. She urged the horse closer, heart pounding.

  Belle and Larissa sat huddled on the ground, the older girl’s arms around her little sister. Both clutched the reins of their mounts, which milled about behind them. Keeping her own reins in hand, Jane slid from the sidesaddle and hurried to them.

  “Are you hurt?”

  Larissa shook her head, rain running off her hair. “I fell, but I’m all right.”

  “You fell?” She glanced from Larissa to Belle for confirmation.

  Belle nodded, smile bright though her teeth chattered. “I stayed on the pony, Mrs. Kimball. I only slid down to help Larissa.”

  Jane breathed a prayer of thanks as she helped both girls to their feet. Larissa did seem unhurt, for she stood and walked without limp or grimace.

  “We couldn’t find a way to get back in the saddle without the grooms,” Larissa said.

  “We knew you’d come,” Belle added.

  Jane brushed a wet curl from her cheek. “Smart thinking. Now, we just need to get everyone home.”

  Putting Larissa back in the saddle wasn’t hard. Jane cupped her hand and boosted the girl up. Belle she could just lift into place. But with no rock or fallen tree to climb up on, getting Jane reseated was another matter.

  “Ride ahead,” she told Larissa and Callie. “I’ll walk with Belle until I find something to help me mount or a groom comes along.”

  The girls nodded and headed off.

  Belle hunched in the saddle. “Can’t I go with them? I’m cold.”

  “I know, sweetheart,” Jane said, leading the horse forward. “But even though you were very brave, I don’t want you to have to ride as fast as Larissa and Callie. We’ll be home before long. Think of sitting in front of a nice warm fire.”

  “With toast?” Belle asked.

  Jane smiled. “Of course. What do you think we should put on it?”

  As Belle debated the merits of jam, honey, or cinnamon and sugar, Jane walked as quickly as she could, always with an eye out for a rock or hump she could use to mount. Her wool riding habit soaked up the rain, sending her sagging skirts deeper into the mud. Cold settled into her bones.

  She had never been so glad to hear hoofbeats approaching. Mr. Quayle rode out of the rain, more gallantly than any cavalry officer. He was down in a moment and helping her mount. Together, they started back toward the stables at a quicker pace.

  “Has His Grace returned?” Jane asked.

  “Not yet. But don’t you worry for him. I sent Pat and Eddie out to help, and Mr. Willard was with them.” He urged his mount closer. “Have a care, Mrs. Kimball. Some folks seem bent on blaming all this on you.”

  Blaming her? What had she done? Numb inside and out, Jane accompa
nied him back.

  It seemed half the household had come from the castle in concern. Betsy and Maud had Larissa and Callie in hand. Percy was begging for a horse, so he might go after Belle. Mr. Parsons alternated between demanding answers and ordering the remaining stable boys about. Mr. Quayle swung down and went to help Belle.

  “You’d be better served to look to your own charges and leave mine alone,” he said, thrusting the shivering Belle at him.

  Mr. Parsons stepped back from the wet bundle in obvious distaste. “Percy, see to her ladyship.”

  Mr. Quayle handed Belle to the footman and turned to help Jane down. Mr. Parsons put out a hand to stop her before she could join the girls.

  “Not so fast, you. Lady Larissa tells me you caused all this.”

  Jane glanced at Larissa, who stepped closer to Betsy’s warmth even as she raised her chin.

  “I told Mrs. Kimball it was too wet and cold to ride, but she wouldn’t listen. She never listens to me. She didn’t listen to Mr. Quayle either. He told her Belle shouldn’t ride alone. Belle might have been hurt because of her.”

  “Mrs. Kimball wouldn’t hurt me,” Belle protested, nearly limp in the footman’s arms. “She loves me.”

  “I highly question that.” Mr. Parsons’s voice was colder than the rain. “And you mentioned something about the river?”

  Larissa nodded. “Father’s lock is broken. She said so.”

  Gasps rang out all around, and Maud and Betsy clasped their charges closer. Mr. Quayle strode for the stable, calling for the stable boys to ride to the home farm and move the horses there to higher ground.

  “Did you have anything to do with this?” Mr. Parsons demanded.

  Jane stared at him. “Of course not! Simmons struck the capstan that holds the chains to open the gates. His Grace is out there attempting to fix it now.”

  The butler took a step closer. “Lies. Simmons left the island days ago.”