The Blue-Eyed Black-Hearted Duke

by Sandra Masters

  “Yes, we are busy with plans for her London season. There’s simply not enough time in the day.”

  Wolferton approached Fitzhugh, and they moved to a far corner to converse. Jaclyn assumed the man might be a possible suitor. Much older than she, he was a bit full of himself in appearance, dressed in splendiferous navy superfine. He wore his long hair tied in a queue.

  Their gentlemen’s conversation had them engaged. Once in a while, Wolferton nodded to her, as did Fitzhugh.

  There was only one thing wrong with the man.

  He wasn’t Wolferton.

  The lady batted eyelashes at the duke, which seemed artificial and made Jaclyn blink more than a few times. In apparent awe of him, Lady Priscilla could not remove her sappy gaze from Wolferton’s person. Jaclyn agreed his stoic face told a story about all he had been and who he had become. Deep inside, she wanted to know so much more than he cared to tell her. His silence she interpreted as unwilling to share with her meaningful bits of his life. If only she could read behind his eyes. What terrors did they hold? There had to be happy circumstances in his years as a lad. Why, oh why, did he not care for her in a romantic way? Why did he always demonstrate his control over all things living and dead?

  She rubbed her finger across her chin. Yes, she wanted to be away—away from all this engagement-need-to-find-a-husband talk for a few hours so her spirit would brighten. But where could she go without a cause for concern? Why did she feel like a rabbit in a cage?

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Wrong Path

  Jaclyn’s uneasiness compared to ants creeping up her dress. She needed to get away. Halifax's accusations against her guardian were a source of anguish. How could they be true? She didn’t want to believe Wolferton, the man she’d come to care for, in the role of a viper. She rang for Sedona.

  “We go for a ride. Please ask Halbert to summon the carriage.”

  The maid looked at her with a frown. “Where to, mistress?”

  “I’m not sure. I need to get a breath of fresh air. Shall you and I take a ride to the Serpentine? I’d like to see the swans.” This sounded a good reason as any.

  Sedona shook her head and left. She returned fifteen minutes later. “I couldn’t find Halbert, but the coachman awaits us.” She hesitated a moment, ”Shall I tell milady Camille?”

  “No, she’s busy with my societal preparations. Let’s go. I need to think of some suitable presents for her, my guardian, and a few friends. His Grace and Camille have done so much on my behalf. I should thank them with a special gift.” She only had one real friend, Josette Dupree. Halifax was more of a wily foe.

  She donned her pelisse and bonnet. “Pack a light lunch should we get hungry. If anything, we can feed the fowl.”

  They departed the room, descended the steps, and thankfully did not run into Camille or Wolferton.

  After a leisurely pace, they arrived at the Serpentine. There were many carriages on the road since it was such a peaceful day. She had left a note on Camille’s pillow to let her know she needed fresh air. Hopefully she wouldn’t worry too much. Never had her intent been to inflict concern to the woman she’d come to love like a mother.

  As for Wolferton, that was a different story!

  Jaclyn coaxed Sedona to sit on a bench and soak in the sunshine. The serenity brought her a modicum of peace. Sweet heaven, Wolferton didn’t know she existed except for plans to marry her off to some suitable man. Or could this impression be her own making? He certainly raised the temperature around the both of them in the conservatory. Jaclyn also caught him staring at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. She had an effect on him. Of this fact, she’d bet on a race horse if she knew how. When he touched her, her treacherous body melted like chocolate in a hot pot. She didn’t have to look up the word passion in a dictionary because she felt it ooze out of her every pore—his too. If the impediment could be discovered, a campaign to woo him could develop. Sweet heaven, she found her breath racing. What to do?

  Her schoolgirl mind wandered. Wolferton, used to a solitary life, likely worried her presence complicated things. That had to be good because at least she might have haunted his thoughts the way he haunted hers. Halifax did say there were many women in Wolferton’s life, and he’d resumed his relationship with his former mistress. Yet, he spent a good deal of his nights at home. Did he secret himself away during the late night hours? Horrors. She knew nothing about seduction, but maybe she had to seek counsel somewhere. This subject couldn’t be discussed with Camille, but maybe someone else could give her advice.

  As the swans floated on the placid water, she thought about the women she knew. Unfortunately, she could count them on her fingers, but maybe there was some female she could consult. There was no one who came to mind. She only knew Camille, Lady Priscilla, and Wolferton’s mistress, Marguerite. No, that wouldn’t work, would it? She arose from the bench, straightened her skirt, and paced at the thought of such a conversation. She could picture the dialogue, “Excuse me, madame, but could you advise me what I have to do to lure your former lover, and possibly your again lover, to my bed? By the bye, since I do not have bed-sport expertise, can you teach me all I need to know in a few minutes’ time? After all, how long can it take to get the seduction over with since it only covers two pages in a romance novel?”

  The word insanity came to mind.

  Jaclyn advised Sedona they were about to leave for a short ride. The evening hour approached, and the late afternoon sun paled. The time came to return home because he was there. She recognized now how much he meant to her dreams. This coach ride helped clear her mind. The woolgathering encouraged her to fight for what she wanted. No, not literally, but to wage a campaign and use whatever resources she could gather. Spend more time alone with Wolferton on any pretense. Seek him out more. Have him miss her presence. Courage. She needed not only bravery but womanly wiles.

  She asked the coachman to drive farther down the road.

  “Where to?” he asked, a worried look apparent.

  “An hour or so toward the outskirts of the city. I want to see the sunset from higher ground.”

  He did as directed but shook his head.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Unhappy Heart

  Wolferton paced in the foyer. Halbert stood to the side, at attention, a worried expression on his haggard face.

  Camille, in tears, raced downstairs, a note in her fist. “I found this on my pillow.”

  Dear Camille: Found myself restless with a need to get away from all the preparations. I do not wish to marry any of the suitors. My heart is elsewhere. Wolferton doesn’t wish to speak about suitors to me since he’s too busy with his accounts. You had the purveyors to handle. Give Loup a bacon bit for me. Oh, and one for Kort.

  Don’t worry. I am safe. I will return…sooner or later. I have Sedona and the coachman with me.

  I’m so unhappy and need time to think.

  Yours with love,

  Jaclyn

  Camille paced, her steps matching Wolferton’s earlier pattern. “How could you not have time for her? Why is it always left to me to pick up the pieces?” Tears streamed down her face.

  About to retort the accusation, he stilled his lips, but the anger within threatened like an angry thunderstorm. “Camille, compose yourself. Hysteria does not solve problems but creates others. Come, sit down, and we can talk reasonably.”

  She continued to pace, and then she sat, mumbling, distraught and in obvious worry. “Respectable young women do not gad about London unescorted with only the company of a maid and a coachman. Not even you can rescue her reputation now. Such foolishness. She’s ruined if she doesn’t come back soon.”

  Wolferton went to the liquor cabinet in his study. Camille followed, dropped heavily into a leather chair near the desk. There was no mirth in his voice when he handed his sister a mild portion of the liqueur. “If these immature events continue, one or both of us will become an alcoholic.” He gulped his brandy glass down in one s
woop.

  Camille finished hers in three sips.

  “Now tell me everything that occurred. Leave nothing out.” He refilled his glass to the hilt as she spoke.

  His sister patiently reiterated every word and action. “It’s all my fault.”

  Still standing, Wolferton spoke, a brow furrowed. His gaze landed on the empty glass. “Camille, her maid is with her, but the fault is mine. She’s part woman and still part naïve little girl. My concern is that Halifax influences her. That’s clear. If I were to object to him, I’d drive her into his eager, greedy arms. Bloody hell, could she be with him? I’m going to have to kill the blighter.”

  Camille’s hand covered her mouth. She tilted her head toward him in a swift movement. “No, then I’d be without anyone.” She moved forward, to the edge of her chair. “You will have to find her journal and read it. She writes in it two or three times a day and at night too. Maybe we’ll learn more.” Her hands rested on his desk. “I refuse to believe she would seek Halifax for any help.”

  “You want me to intrude on her notes to find out all her female secrets?” If he were honest with himself, he’d thought the same thing. However, such a dastardly deed would be unforgivable. Jaclyn would forsake him for life.

  It was his turn to pace again, this time, in front of the fireplace.

  “Camille, why can’t you gain access to her journal? It’s a female pursuit. Diaries are not for men.”

  “She’d never forgive me, Radolf.”

  He went to the mantel and then stood on the Abuson carpet, hands clasped behind him.

  “In her shoes, I wouldn’t forgive anyone, but she’ll forgive you because you’ve become the mother she never had.

  “How can you be so sure, brother?”

  “I’m not sure about anything. She already thinks I’m an ogre anxious to get rid of her when that is farthest from the truth. It’s settled. It must be you. You can say you did it for me because of my concern for her safety.” He pounded the mantel and the porcelain figures shook and moved dangerously to the edge.

  “Can’t you see she’s in love with you? Why do you deny how you feel about her? Her note is clear. She does not want suitors. My heart is elsewhere. Those are her words. You are her elsewhere, and she doesn’t mean Halifax. How can you be so blind? Of what are you afraid? Rejection or redemption?”

  “You’re not fair to me. I’ve done everything… everything I promised. Everything I could to keep Jaclyn from harm. Love doesn’t enter into this. Every time I’ve cared for someone, I hurt them. I can’t do that with her. I-I-I…”

  Camille finished the sentence, “Love her too much? I’m not privy to all your deeds, but I know many of them were good.” She paused, scanned the room, and her gaze went back to her brother. “You do have a key to Jaclyn’s desk.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “It was mother’s desk, and the keys are in the secret back drawer. All you have to do is pull it forward, and the ratchets propel it open.”

  He plopped back into his chair, hands over the armrests, and then moved forward. “Yes, I remember now. I’ve been a long time away, Camille. Mother did have her hidden compartments, but Jaclyn’s key does not open those. It’s bad enough to invade Jaclyn’s private journal, but what other secrets of mother’s will I find? And how will I live with them when I do? No, I can’t.”

  “Do I have to come ’round to your desk and do it for you? I shall if it will relieve your conscience. I want her back, Radolf. And you must do this deed. If not for yourself, for me. She is as a daughter to me. The daughter I could never have. Please, brother. Please help me. Help us.”

  Her tears moved him to the point where all he could do was close his eyes and remember his faults. She and Jaclyn were blameless of all sins. One thing he knew in his heart was that Jaclyn would never give herself to a man outside of wedlock—if she had a choice. Jaclyn’s father was too strict in her short time with him—yet she’d seen her mother run off with another man.

  He opened his desk drawer, looked at the small delicate keys on the gold ring, and swore he heard his mother’s voice. You do this for our honor, Radolf. Perhaps you will even find peace. You are not your father’s son. You’re better than him. There’s a wolf and an angel that watch over you, and they come at my behest, for I love you.

  With the keys in one hand, he extended the other to his sister. “Come, we need enlightenment. She will have to forgive us both, but I will take total blame.”

  Camille grasped his arm. “Courage. We must find her before she comes to harm.”

  They ascended the steps in silence and went to Jaclyn’s room that used to be his mother’s. He’d forgotten how as a lad, the room offered serene space to come to his mother with problems where she would hug and kiss him when he climbed on her lap. Precious boy, tell me what’s upset you. Mother will set it right.

  The lacquered escritoire sat against the cheerful yellow walls with pink cabbage roses hand-painted on them. He hesitated a moment and then went to pull out a drawer. Camille searched with her gaze. He searched with his hands. After a few attempts, she found the beribboned key.

  With reservation, he inhaled and then opened the locked drawer. Jaclyn’s cordovan leather journal had her name inscribed in gilt.

  “I can’t remove it, Camille. She’s entitled to her privacy. I am not that kind of scoundrel.” A tremor shook his hand, and he held the book as if it were on fire and returned it to the drawer. He gazed to his sister, who moved toward him and took the journal from its place, pulled a chair to the desk, and sat. She flipped recent pages and read with haste. “I feel certain this entire escapade had something to do with the cordwainer and the dancing slippers. I should have known better when she asked me about her school girlfriend and the fancy shoes, but I was too busy with vendors. Most likely that’s where she’s gone.”

  Camille squinted. “You worry needlessly. She wants to purchase the shoes and perhaps reacquaint herself with a friend.” The words spoken were as much for her benefit as well as his. “My lids blur, and I can’t read without my spectacles. You continue.” Camille brushed droplets from her cheeks.

  With hesitation and regret, he fanned the pages backward and scanned school dates where Jaclyn listed each year. “There it is. Her friend is Josette, but you said she had the address of the cordwainer’s establishment. I should be able to find him easily.”

  When he went to close the journal, he saw a dried black rose pressed between the pages, and his name inscribed at the top. He fought hard not to look at the words, but it tempted beyond any reason. Radolf, please learn to love me as I love you. What do I have to do?

  He took special note that she referred to him by his given name. Hmm. Camille had been correct. With care, he placed the journal back into the drawer, locked it, and replaced the key. One day he would tell her what they’d done. It was the honest thing to do. Bloody hell.

  “Before we leave, I need to check mother’s secret compartment. It’ll take a moment. Do you remember which key it is?”

  “Radolf, it’s the one with the heart-shaped top.” She extended her hand. “You’ll either find an empty drawer or peace of mind. I’ve wracked my brain and I remember the last time we saw each other before I married, she alluded to letters she’d written and hidden away. At least you must try.”

  With the correct key in hand, he inserted it into the inlaid drawer. Immediately, gears spun, and one smaller drawer opened behind the other. In it were letters—three of them—wrapped in a faded blue ribbon. He closed his eyes. They might hold answers. His stomach lurched. He stilled his hand at his effort to control trembling. Take hold, old chap. Not even during the wars did Wolferton experience such apprehension. He placed the envelopes in his breast pocket and relocked the hidden compartment. He ushered Camille out of Jaclyn’s room and descended the staircase to his study. Wheels of a carriage sounded outside, and Halbert ran to the door.

  Wolferton went to a parlor window, saw the emblem on his carriage, an
d bit his lower lip. “She’s home looking none the worse for wear.” He exhaled in a whoosh of relief.

  Jaclyn departed the carriage with her maid. The coachman went to stable the horses.

  “Good evening, Halbert,” Jaclyn said, as if it were a normal salutation with nothing askew. “I’ll be in my room if someone is interested.”

  Wolferton heard that last remark. “Bloody hell.” If someone is interested? He’d have a long talk with her about responsibility. That was for sure. But then he wondered if his talk should take a different direction. How would he handle this if he had to scale a mountain in a war zone? Would he use deception and good intent?

  Expressionless, Halbert accepted her outer clothes, and Jaclyn skittered toward the steps.

  Chapter Twenty

  The Challenge

  At the rustle of a silk skirt, Wolferton went to the door and entered the corridor in a silence meant to overwhelm, with the effect that his boot steps on the marble floor sounded like the hammer of cannon balls upon a distant stone wall.

  Jaclyn, dressed in a dark black dress that emphasized her hair, halted. The image startled him since she looked sad, but mature, as if she mourned. “Join us in my study for privacy.” He kept his voice calm but firm.

  They entered the sacrosanct room, and he closed the door. “Sit.” Wolferton assumed a position at the desk but remained standing.

  She went to Camille, clasped her hands, lashes lowered. “Please forgive me if I have caused you worry. It wasn’t my intention. There’s much on my mind. I needed time to think. If I caused you any concern, I beg you both to forgive me. My chaperone accompanied me.”

  Jaclyn raised her head an inch—like a child who has committed a transgression against her guardian—and faced the duke. “I’m not sure what came over me, but I suddenly held a need to run, escape, and fly.”