The Blue-Eyed Black-Hearted Duke

by Sandra Masters

  Their expressions were even brighter now. He sat, placed his hands on the table, and said with warmth in his voice, “I see in front of me boys who will grow into fine men. There will be many opportunities for you to hold lucrative positions. McClintock here will become a solicitor, a fine vocation. Others of you may wish to join the positions available in the service to the Crown. There is no end to your ambition if it is sincere.”

  He knew everyone wondered what would happen to the errant student, Matthew Higgins.

  One of the younger boys, about ten years old, tugged on his jacket sleeve. “What will you do to Matthew, Your Grace?”

  “Mister Matthew Higgins is a disappointment, I’ll admit. Before I condemn him, I’d like to know what provoked such untoward action. Brawling and drunkenness are not allowed from any of you. Do I make myself clear?”

  They whispered to each other in ultra serious tones.

  “Lady Hattersley,” Wolferton addressed his sister by her formal name. “Do you have anything to impart?”

  Taken aback for a moment, she inhaled deeply and then spoke in a soft voice. “Yes. Being here has been a delight. I’ve been honored to share high tea with all of you and your decorum is impressive. You see, we did not know my brother funded such a school. I am so proud of him and all of you. Thank you for sharing this with us.” Her smile went to each table of lads.

  The eight-year-old started to cry. “Young man, why do you cry?”

  “You are so pretty and remind me of my mama.” He lowered his head.

  Camille inhaled, her eyes brimmed. “I’m sorry I’m not her, but you may come and hug me. I want you to devote yourself to your studies so I can meet you again. Each time you excel in your studies, you will have earned another embrace.”

  The lad stumbled out of the chair and ran to her. Wolferton’s expression was serious, but inside he cried too. He addressed Jaclyn, “Miss Moreux, do you have something to add?”

  “Yes, I do, Your Grace.” She stood, and all the boys did too. “Please be seated, gentlemen.”

  The scraping of chairs against the polished floor and small thuds on the seats spurred her to continue. “I’d like to state that I am the orphaned daughter of Henri Moreux, who was a captain in the army under the duke, then a colonel. My father died on the field at the battle of Waterloo and asked his best friend, known as Colonel Radolf, to raise me as his ward. Radolf is the duke’s given name. His surname and title is Wolferton. I was eight years of age.” She fussed with the napkin in her hand.

  “This kind man sent me to school, much like this one, and ten years later, he took me into his home as his ward. If not for him, my future would have been bleak. You all have this wonderful opportunity, don’t disavow it. Embrace it with your heart and soul so that we may be proud of you. Who knows, one day one of you could be Prime Minister of England.” She sat and placed the serviette to her lips and caught a tear.

  Mr. Pidgeon arose, made brief remarks of thanks, and dismissed the students. He approached the duke. “Mr. Higgins awaits us in the office.”

  “Excuse me, ladies. I’ll return in a while.”

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  The Penitent

  The next day, Wolferton thought a great deal about how he could convince the magistrate to render mercy to the young lad. He had been young and performed many deeds he now regretted. There was no one of substance who would vouch for him. At the time, he had no idea of repercussions on those he hurt. Higgins’ circumstances were somewhat different.

  They entered the courthouse with Matthew Higgins and the schoolmaster, where they were directed to a small courtroom and waited for the magistrate to enter. He spoke to Higgins. “This is a solemn place and one of legal respect. Stand tall and speak the truth when asked.” The lad was young just as he was once. Mistakes made could be rectified if one believed in himself. God’s blood, he could be talking about his past.

  The judge entered the room. When he did, they stood.

  A court attendant told them to be seated and read the charges. The magistrate, dressed in judicial red robe and white wig looked over his spectacles, “Your Grace, what is your involvement in this case?”

  “Your Honor, I am the sponsor for the Quarters School which comprises eleven orphans of various ages. This institution has functioned for more than five years without scandal. This is the first time one of our students has instigated an incident. I am here to vouch for him.”

  Higgins squirmed in his seat.

  “The offense is one of drunkenness and destruction of property of the pub owner. How does he plead?”

  “Guilty, Your Honor, with prejudice,” said Wolferton.

  “How does that apply?” asked the magistrate.

  “With your permission, I’d like him to explain the reason for his behavior.”

  With a nod, Higgins stood, nervousness obvious, one foot rolled to the other. “Sir…Your Honor. I received news that my drunken pa told my thirteen-year old sister to sell herself so he could buy liquor. My mama is dead. My maiden sister ran away, and Pa went to find her. When I heard of this”—he lowered his head—“I knew, as her big brother, I had to protect her. So I went in search of him.”

  The magistrate interrupted, “Did you find him?”

  “Yes, Your Honor. After visiting several taverns, I did. He cursed me for abandoning him so I could lead a good life. Sir, I offered him money I’d saved for my apothecary lessons to leave her alone.” Higgins lowered his gaze at the desk layered with legal papers.

  “Where did you get money?” asked the magistrate.

  “We perform extra chores and are compensated accordingly,” he answered.

  “I’m ashamed of his actions. I want to be better than him. As soon as I can, I’ll get my sister and make sure she comes to no harm. My pa told me I was no good, and she was only good for whoring. At that, I lost my mind, and when he hit me, I fought back.”

  “How old are you,” asked the judge.

  “Sixteen years,” he answered politely

  “Where is your sister now?” the judge asked.

  “I found her and brought her north to live with my mama’s cousin and her husband on a farm.”

  Although Wolferton had heard the story from Higgins before, it wasn’t in its entirety. The lad embraced his responsibility to protect his sister. It was his drunken father who furthered the fisticuffs. Higgins did not cry, but his words were packed with heartfelt emotion and glassy brimmed eyes.

  Wolferton tamped his pride at the lad’s sad story. He surmised there were many others like the young boy with no one to turn to, no one to guide them, and most of all, no one to care. Dependent on where you lived, London’s cesspool of men and women used these young people for nefarious purposes. It truly opened his eyes to this side of life. The London hidey-holes were noted for harboring orphans who were trained to beg, steal, and even murder, if necessary. The men who directed such activities were the scum of the earth. One did not venture into such dens without fear of their life.

  During the war, he saw different standards, regulated to keep everyone in line. In these hell spots in the inner city, there was no one to care unless you paid the piper. The thought of Higgins’s little sister working in a cheap brothel in a crib ripped him apart. Life was not fair!

  The judge reviewed the papers in front of him. “The tavern keeper has requested damages of forty pounds. Do you have that sum?”

  “No, Your Honor, but I do have eleven pounds.”

  Wolferton’s cool, calm voice interrupted. “Your Honor, if I may, I will be responsible for the balance of the sum owed. Also, I request that Mr. Higgins is removed from the school and housed at my country estate in Hertfordshire where he will repay his debt to me. I believe in consequences for ill-thought actions. The lad is an honorable young man faced with a difficult family problem. I cannot fault him entirely for wanting to save the maiden from prostitution.” He paused for a breath. “If ever England is to continue with pride at all levels of society
, those of us who can, should try to remedy such conditions. I request mercy for this petitioner.”

  Wolferton faced the tavern owner. “I regret the disturbance to your tavern, but as a purveyor of alcohol, it’s a risk you take. If this is fair to you, will you withdraw your charges for the sum mentioned? He’s only guilty of protecting the virtue of his sister. This was his motive, not disorderliness and carousing to cause harm.”

  The magistrate addressed the tavern owner, “What say you?”

  “I agree, Your Honor. I withdraw charges.” He bowed to Wolferton. “Your Grace, you’re a good and kind man. The damage was substantial. His old man was a brute and threw chairs at him and almost crushed his back with one. He fought bravely.”

  Some murmurs emerged in the courtroom. The older lads had been allowed to attend and sat in benches behind Wolferton.

  “Your Grace, you are to be commended for your concern for those less fortunate. The judicial process is difficult for we are here to pass judgment. I, for one, now declare that the charges are withdrawn. Payment is due to the plaintiff. Case discharged.” The magistrate arose and left the courtroom.

  Higgins, in a contrite voice said, “Your Grace, I’m sorry. She’s a good girl with the bluest of eyes and honeyed hair. I couldn’t have him make her into a whore.”

  Wolferton clapped him on the back. “There are times we do bad things for good reasons, and such is the dilemma of life. We must choose which path is right. You will return with us to Hertfordshire tomorrow morning. Say your goodbyes to your compatriots. Next time, consult with the schoolmaster or me before you take any untoward action. Consider yourself fortunate.”

  “I do, Your Grace. I do. I’ll pay you back quicker than you think. I’ll work for others too.”

  “It’s not the recompense I seek. You should continue your studies, but perhaps in a different setting. We’ll talk about it. You might find something of interest at Hertford that will spur your endeavors.”

  He turned to the lads behind him. “Let’s head back to the Quarters School. There will be changes there, too.”

  ****

  At the school, Wolferton announced that he was moving the school to the London townhouse he now occupied and deeded to the foundation governing the school. The old residence would be sold with funds from the sale to transfer to the Quarters School.

  At this good news, all the lads hip, hip, hoorayed for him. And the littlest boy ran to clutch his leg in happiness. There was a happy chorus of boys and staff. Rations of cookies were devoured. Wolferton couldn’t have explained how he felt. There weren’t enough words in a dictionary. The thrill crept up his spine and it was a good omen.

  To help others in need was indeed uproarious. He found himself laughing and joking with them. Good. Good. Good. There would be more pleasant news to come. He actually looked forward to their visit to the country. Once they saw endless possibilities, they would embark on the journey to betterment.

  Upon arrival at home, the ladies were surprised, but not shocked. Wolferton was indeed orchestrating his new life. After Jaclyn’s end of season ball, he would never see his hated townhouse as anything more than an edifice of education for deserving orphans. Amen!

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  A Promise of Redemption

  Wolferton went to his study. Fate had a way of clearing the cobwebs from his mind. Above the fireplace mantel hung a leaded mirror. He walked to it and studied the reflected image. A young, old man stared back at him. Where had his youth gone? To hell and back, he believed. He knew what he wanted now with such clarity, damn sure he gained absolution from the mighty God above who saw to the less fortunate.

  He went to his study and asked that Camille and Jaclyn come to him. They entered, anxious to know the outcome with the court. He explained all. The relief on their faces gave him satisfaction. Like a burden that is shared makes it lighter, so is it that a joy shared makes the pleasure greater.

  “I have something to say to both of you. We will have the ball at this town house and it will be the last event of this dynasty here in London.” He explained the gift of the townhouse to the Quarters School Foundation.

  “I understand your motives. We were all happier in the country. The cause is good. I’m proud of you, brother.”

  “As am I, Radolf. You’ve carried a heavy responsibility for so long,” said Jaclyn with a bright smile and glazed eyes obviously ready to weep.

  He arose from his chair, stood in front of the stained-glass window, and said to Jaclyn, “Hear me out, if you would. I have found a suitor for you.”

  Her expression changed in a blink of an eye. She placed her hand to her throat. “But you promised!”

  “Yes, I did, and I’ll keep it. Hear me out. The gentleman in question is in high regard, older than you, and quite a popular peer. He is kind, admires your many talents, and strives for your happiness. Your every wish will be granted. He desires to claim you for the strong woman you are and commends your courage and veracity. This suitor claims he dreams of you every night and worries about your welfare every day. He is arrested by your beauty and your humanity. Your father would want you to marry him.”

  “No. No. No.” She turned her head to Camille, her face filled with pain and shock.

  What had started as humor on his part now became clear that he hurt Jaclyn, which was not his intention. He thought to offer a dramatic proposal, one that she’d remember for all time, but not at her expense. Quick thinking, Wolferton went to his ward. “At least give the man a chance,” he said, but he smiled in mirth.

  “You broke your promise to me. How can I ever trust you again? You thought to weaken my resolve by allowing me to enter your life at the school. What a beast you are to deceive me so.” Jaclyn arose to leave.

  “When did you come to this conclusion?” Camille interjected. “You know how she feels about a forced marriage. This is so unlike you.” She pounded her knee with a firm hand. Her gaze to Jaclyn held tears. “I knew nothing about this. I don’t know what else to say.”

  Wolferton moved back to the front of the Guardian window. “Jaclyn, don’t leave.” He opened his arms wide, like a lover waiting for his beloved to come to him. “Come to me, my Jaclyn. I’m not sure how to please and honor a woman such as you, but I do promise to try for the rest of my life. Will you marry me? Life without you holds no wonder. Say yes, otherwise I will kiss you senseless until you do.” He placed a finger to his chin. “Now what a pleasant thought that conjures, my love. My one and only lady for all eternity.”

  Jaclyn stopped in her tracks, turned, and shook her head. “You have proposed to me? You? Me?”

  He grinned with happiness, “My lonely arms are still outstretched to declare my intentions for you. Come, my Jaclyn, allow me to embrace you.”

  The smile she awarded him told him everything he wanted to know. As she ran to him, he crushed her within his arms. “I have yearned to do this since the first day in my study. I love you with all my heart. Will you accept my proposal?”

  “Yes, a thousand times yes.” He nestled her head under his chin and inhaled the lavender scent of her hair. Her words were clear to him. “I have loved you since I was a girl. You are my hero of fairy tales.”

  “Sister, can you give us a few moments together? I think I want to kiss her senseless.”

  Camille rushed out of the room with a broad grin and closed the door behind her.

  “Now where was I, my love? Let’s see. I was about to kiss you witless.”

  Jaclyn tilted her head toward him, aligned her lips to his, and when he coaxed her mouth open, there was no doubt he was her forever man. A dizzying current pulsed through her. A roiling sensation in the pit of her stomach ached. At least that’s what she thought. She wanted him to do so much more as he stoked her fire. A slender, thread of sensuality spiraled up her spine. The longing for him to satisfy the elusive desire fluttered within and then became a firestorm.

  “Jaclyn. My Jaclyn.”

  Angels sang at the s
ound of her name and danced in her head.

  She stood close to him, cradled in his embrace. The beat of his heart pelted against hers. The intoxicating musk scent of his body was a lure to her senses. A shudder passed through her. What was it? She wanted more. She bit her lip to stifle the delight it imbued. Heat surged from her fingertips to her toes.

  Jaclyn held him as if there was no tomorrow…only right now. His marvelous arms rocked her back and forth. Her hip brushed against his thigh. The response from her body became a fiery sensation. The undeniable magnetism between them soared to amazing heights. The persuasive touch of his hands splaying her back was more than welcome.

  Whisper close, his breath hot to her ear, “Oh, how I love you.”

  With reluctance, she parted away a few inches. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear those sweet words from you.”

  Jaclyn dropped her head against his chest and sighed in pleasure, yet something inside demanded satisfaction. She gasped when he lifted her skirt with one hand and found her warm, moist flesh. Her skin tingled as the strokes of his fingers sent oh-so-pleasant sparks through her that escalated into unbelievable desire. The heat and urgency demanded. The touch of his hand was almost unbearable and her moan became an invitation to love.

  The touch of his hot hand skimmed the inner part of her thigh and he drew small circles with it. Jaclyn tightened an inner muscle she didn’t know existed in expectation of something wonderful. The fingers inched upward to the apex between her legs. His wet mouth on hers swallowed her gasp. Lost, she was spellbound by his masculine onslaught to her body with his fingers and his mouth that became an inferno. But the look in his eyes as they locked together spoke more than any words. When he moved his hand to her pleasure point, she inhaled at his tease, thrilling her with his magic touch. When he slid his finger out to skim her other thigh, she grieved the loss.