by Eloisa James
He pulled himself out of sleep thinking that someone was beating down the door, only to suppose groggily that rain was crashing against his window. A moment later he realized that mere rain couldn’t be causing that amount of noise. The window seemed about to shatter.
It must be hail. The worst hailstorm to hit southern England in years.
Villiers threw back the covers, fought his way through the bed hangings, and staggered out of bed.
Another blast of hail hit the window, shaking it so hard that the drapes actually shuddered. He walked over to the waiting basin of water and thrust his face into it. Then he straightened up and shook himself, chilly droplets flying in all directions. Finally he pulled back the drapes, expecting a sour gray light.
But instead there was sunshine. He closed his eyes and raked his hands through his hair. No hail. That implied…
He grabbed his towel and wound it around his waist, unlatched the door, pushed it open and stepped onto the stone balcony that looked over the gardens.
A thirteen-year-old boy was standing on the grass below, eyes bright.
“For Christ’s sake,” Villiers snarled, squinting down at Tobias. “What hour is it?”
“Late,” Tobias said cheerfully. “You don’t have any clothing on.”
He leaned against the balustrade and stared down at his progeny. “What in hell’s name do you think you’re doing?”
“Waking you up.”
“How did you know which window was mine?”
“Lisette told me.”
“Lisette? Lady Lisette told you which window to throw rocks at? You could have broken the glass.”
“Actually, she threw quite a lot of them,” Tobias allowed. “She just went around to the side of the house.”
“What is happening out here?” came a smoky voice.
He actually started. Eleanor wandered from her window onto what he now understood was a shared balcony—her chamber, it appeared, was next to his. Unlike him, she was swathed in some sort of thick wrapper that went from her collarbone to her toes.
Yet her clothing didn’t matter. There was something about her that made him want to nibble her all over. It had to be the dissolute appeal of her. Her hair tumbled down her back, not in pretty ringlets, but in the kind of wild disarray that a man wants to find falling around his face as he thrusts up and—
Villiers jerked his mind away, suddenly aware that his towel had tented in front.
Now Eleanor, too, had discovered that they shared a balcony. She didn’t turn a hair at the idea that he was practically naked. No blushing. The corner of her mouth tipped up and she looked him over, so fast that he would have missed it if he hadn’t been watching her at precisely that moment.
Villiers had no problem being surveyed. He had no illusions about the beauty of his face. His title and money brought women to his bed, but his body kept them there.
But Eleanor turned away as if he were no more interesting than a grasshopper and called down to Tobias. “You’re cracked if you think someone like the duke is going to get up this early.”
Tobias smiled, a bit shyly. “We thought—”
“We?” Eleanor asked, straightening up.
“Lady Lisette thought that the duke might like to go riding,” Tobias said.
“Can you imagine the duke on a horse without being dressed head to foot in gold lace?” Eleanor said mockingly. She glanced at him for a split second, but he felt it like a caress. “Your father takes so long to get dressed that the sun would be going down by the time he emerged from his chamber.”
She had said just the right thing. Villiers watched Tobias’s grin get bigger. He was a fool to hope that it was the words your father that made the boy crack a smile. Tobias was too serious.
He leaned back against the balustrade again and deliberately crossed his arms, because it made his muscles look even larger and he had the feeling that Eleanor liked muscles. Thank God, there was no way that Tobias could see the tent in his towel from below.
He moved his legs apart a bit, just in case she wanted to take another look. Obviously nothing would shock the woman.
“Am I to understand that you think I couldn’t be ready in less time than you?” he demanded.
She didn’t look at him. “Where’s Lisette?” she called down to Tobias.
Villiers moved away from the edge of the balcony. He didn’t mind showing some skin to Eleanor. But Lisette was a gently bred lady, with a kind of innocence that made her eyes shine with a deep-down purity.
Eleanor was leaning over the balustrade now, bantering with Tobias. Her bottom was very round under her thick robe. She was the antithesis of innocent. She made a man long to wake her up early enough so they could step out on the balcony with the first dawn light—
He wrenched his mind away again and readjusted his towel. This was becoming painful. It was rather fascinating to imagine how Eleanor became the woman she was, given that her mother seemed altogether wedded to convention.
Whereas Lisette, who seemed to be living more or less without a chaperone, was clearly untouched by the baser passions of the body.
“Women take much more time to dress than do men,” he told Eleanor, deciding that he ought to give her one more chance to look him over before he returned to his chamber.
“You’re not most men,” she said flatly. She did turn to face him, but her eyes stayed on his face rather than dropping lower. There was just a tinge of rosy color in her cheeks. Good.
He widened his stance again, daring her to look down. “You’re right. I’m not like other men,” he said.
Eleanor choked with laughter. “Because your sense of consequence is bigger.”
“And the rest of me too,” he said, wondering if he’d lost his mind. The Duke of Villiers never traded bawdy quips on a balcony. He never—ever—flirted.
“That remains to be seen,” Eleanor said saucily.
He bit back a grin. The Duke of Villiers didn’t smile in the morning. He squinted at the sky. “What time is it, anyway?”
“Don’t look so afraid. I assure you that the sun isn’t made out of green cheese,” she said to him. “I suppose it’s around eight o’clock.”
“Eight!” He shuddered.
“Leopold!” came a clear voice from the lawn. “Would you like to join us on an excursion?”
Villiers looked cautiously over the balcony, trying to keep his body out of sight. Lisette was the very picture of an English lady. Curls crested on her head like a frothy wave; her eyes shone brightly; she was wearing an enchanting riding habit.
“Hello!” she called, waving her hand at him. “Time to rise and shine, Leopold!”
“Yes, Leopold,” Eleanor said in a low, mocking voice. “Do start to shine, please. I think I saw the rising, but I definitely missed the shining.”
“As you said, there is a great deal of me that remains to be seen,” he said silkily, loving their verbal jousting.
Even though he never engaged in anything as déclassé as a flirtation.
“I’m afraid I can’t join you,” he said, raising his voice as he replied to Lisette.
She pouted. “No! Why on earth not?”
“I plan to pay a visit to the orphanage in Sevenoaks as soon as I am dressed.”
Her mouth formed a perfect rosebud. A confused rosebud. “Why on earth do you need to do that? The orphans will return this afternoon, I assure you. A group of them come every afternoon to work on the play, though now we’ve turned it to a treasure hunt.”
One couldn’t help but admire her devotion to those poor children. But the fact that two of them might be his own made him edgy. Still, he couldn’t figure out exactly how to answer.
Eleanor broke in. “The duke is thinking of sponsoring the orphanage,” she called down to Lisette. “He’s quite charitable, you know. I’ve heard tell that he’s peopled his very own orphanage.”
Tobias snorted, but Lisette’s smile didn’t waver. “I am thinking of doing that as well,” she
said earnestly. “Occasionally I have thought that the orphans are too thin, and wondered if they were well cared for. But I am assured that they eat sufficiently. If I had my own orphanage, I would make certain that they were offered only the foods they preferred.”
“So I shall tour the orphanage this morning,” Villiers said.
“We shall come with you!” Lisette said, clapping her hands. “Do you know, I’ve never toured the building? The children simply come to me, whenever I request it. I should like to see their dear little beds.”
“Excellent,” Eleanor said. “We shall all go to the orphanage this morning. Lisette…Tobias.” She walked back into her room without saying goodbye to Villiers, which didn’t sit well with him.
He scowled and didn’t even realize that Lisette was cheerily calling him to meet her in the breakfast room until Eleanor had already left. At least Lisette understood that one didn’t simply turn away from a duke.
He turned to enter his chamber.
“Hey!”
Hey? Could it be that someone was addressing him such? He turned, reluctantly. After all, he knew the voice.
“Do you want me to go to the orphanage and poke around?”
“Poke?” he said, staring down at Tobias. “What on earth would you look around for?”
“I can see what it’s like. I’ve heard stories about that sort of place.”
“Stories about orphanages?” Villiers’s jaw tightened but he pushed the thought away. Of course his children were fine. For one thing, Lisette saw to the orphans’ welfare herself. But Tobias had an awkward eagerness to him, as if he were a setter on a leash. “All right,” he said.
Tobias gave a sharp nod and set off.
“Wait!” Villiers bellowed. And then, feeling very queer to be saying it, he asked: “Have you broken your fast?”
Tobias cast him a look of absolute scorn. “I’m in the nursery,” he said. “I was offered gruel at six this morning.”
“Gruel? They made you eat gruel?”
He gave a sharp burst of laughter. “I don’t eat that! The footman brought me a meat pasty.”
“I hope you tipped him.” Villiers paused. “Do you have any money?”
“No thanks to you,” Tobias said, but without anger. “Ashmole gave me some. I’ll be off now.” And he was gone.
Villiers dressed meditatively, but with speed. In the last month he had gained some experience in dealing with the class of persons who cared for indigent children. With the intent of inspiring awe, if not fear, he chose a riding costume of a deep scarlet, with buttonholes picked out in gold thread. His breeches buttoned tightly to the side of his knee; his hussar buskin boots gleamed, and more importantly, each sported a tassel of French silk. He pulled back his hair and tied it with a scarlet ribbon. Finally he slid on his heavy signet ring and belted on his sword stick.
Some minutes later, Lisette sat beside him in the carriage, chattering like a magpie about the children, the treasure hunt, and about Mrs. Minchem, who ran the orphanage.
“Mrs. Minchem?” Eleanor inquired. “I don’t like that name.”
Villiers didn’t like it much either.
Lisette was off in a peal of laughter. “You can’t judge people by their names, silly Eleanor!” she said. “Why, think if we were to judge you by the name Eleanor.”
“What of it?” Eleanor said, raising an eyebrow.
But Lisette galloped ahead. “You know what I mean,” she cried. “It’s a heavy name, isn’t it? Don’t you think so, Leopold?”
“It’s a queen’s name,” he said. “A chaste name.” He didn’t look at Eleanor. “Yes, I think it sounds like the kind of queen who is locked in a tower and never allowed to fall in love.”
“That’s sad,” Lisette said, her mouth drooping.
“Whereas your name is as pretty as you are,” he said.
Eleanor’s eyes narrowed and he realized too late that he had inadvertently implied that Lisette was prettier than Eleanor. Lisette was prettier than Eleanor, but since Eleanor had that sultry ladybird look, no red-blooded man in the vicinity of the two of them would want Lisette over Eleanor. Eleanor was bewitching.
He could hardly point that out, though, so he just leaned forward as the carriage jolted to a halt and examined the orphanage’s façade. It was big enough, but it looked like a mausoleum. He’d been in a number of orphanages and children’s workhouses in the last two months, and had yet to see one that he’d want to live in.
Not that the question was really important. He was a duke. He’d never even noticed the many places he wouldn’t want to live in before, so why was he giving a second thought to the issue now?
He was still thinking about the many unpleasantries that dukes never contemplate when his footman announced them to the orphanage’s headmistress.
Mrs. Minchem, unfortunately, lived up to her evocative name. She looked like a cheese-paring, bitter woman, the kind of woman whose small mouth was more vertical than horizontal. She looked like an irate rodent. But she smiled, showing every single tooth.
“Your Grace,” she said, dropping into a curtsy that made all the keys on her chatelaine jangle. “And Lady Lisette, what an honor it is to welcome you to Brocklehurst Hall. Lady Eleanor, it is indeed an honor.” The ribbons on top of her cap trembled with her emphatic words.
But Villiers wondered, looking at her pinched mouth. He decided to say nothing of his children for the moment.
“We would much appreciate a tour of your establishment,” he said with his most charming smile.
Mrs. Minchem wasn’t stupid; she actually recoiled. There must be something in his smile, he thought, that wasn’t quite as benevolent as it could have been.
“Do you take both boys and girls?” Eleanor asked, intervening.
Mrs. Minchem snapped the answer out as if she were being interrogated by the Watch. “No, indeed, my lady! There are no male children. Ever. This orphanage is run by a ladies’ committee, and we allow orphans of the female persuasion only.”
Villiers instantly felt twice as male as he had a moment ago. Lisette was drifting around the room, humming a little tune, and examining some rather dreary watercolors depicting the dells. “What do your orphans become when they leave your establishment?” he inquired.
“Not that!” Mrs. Minchem said. “Good women is what they become.”
Eleanor walked forward a step. “My dearest Mrs. Minchem, the Duke of Villiers is considering the foundation of an orphanage of his very own. He has heard such excellent things about Brocklehurst Hall from Lady Lisette that he insisted on coming here first thing this morning.”
“It is rather early in the morning,” Mrs. Minchem allowed, thawing slightly.
“Are the orphans not awake?” Villiers asked.
“Of course they are! They’re up at four-thirty in the morning, Your Grace, with a full hour of improving prayers before they begin their day.”
“Four-thirty. My goodness,” Eleanor said. “And a full hour of prayers before breakfast?”
“Of course. Children learn better on an empty stomach,” Mrs. Minchem said authoritatively. “After they’re fed, they’re good for nothing and fall asleep on their feet.”
Likely because they were up at four-thirty in the morning, Villiers thought grimly. He was starting to have a very bad feeling. And Eleanor shared it, because their eyes met, and there was a frown in hers.
“We are interested in seeing everything,” Eleanor said, turning to Mrs. Minchem and smiling like a madwoman. She seemed to think that lavish charm would win admittance.
Equally clearly, Mrs. Minchem wasn’t charmed. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable without the agreement of the ladies’ committee,” she said, jangling her huge circle of keys. “They never authorized me to allow sightseeing trips.”
Lisette drifted over from the other side of the room. “There’s no need to worry about that, Mrs. Minchem,” she said. “I am on the committee. Don’t you remember that you didn’t wish the orphans to visit me un
til I joined the committee?”
She turned to Villiers. “Mrs. Minchem is an absolutely wonderful headmistress for the girls. She is fiercely protective of them, which is of course exactly what she should be.”
“I would prefer to have warning before I give tours of this nature,” Mrs. Minchem stated.
But Eleanor could have told her that no one gainsaid Lisette when she had made up her mind. “Dear, dear Mrs. Minchem,” Lisette cried. “You know that I am tasked by the committee to make four visits a year. And because I do delight in having the orphans to my house, I haven’t paid you a visit in…oh…three years.”
“I thought you said you had never visited Brocklehurst Hall at all,” Eleanor said.
“True,” Lisette said. “And all the more reason that we absolutely must pay a visit today. Now.”
Mrs. Minchem still looked ready to complain, so Villiers stepped in. “You certainly wouldn’t want anyone to think that there was something untoward happening with your orphans,” he said softly. “So annoying…the investigation…”
Mrs. Minchem’s eyelashes flickered, and she protested with real-sounding distress, “But the beds won’t be made yet! The house will be—”
“We know exactly how it will be,” Lisette said, putting her hand on the woman’s arm. “Now you just show us their cunning little beds, Mrs. Minchem. We don’t mind if they’re not made up. We know that the girls need to learn to care for themselves, and I’m sure that some of them are rather lazy!”
“They are that,” Mrs. Minchem said grimly. She nodded to the servant standing by the far parlor door, opposite where they entered, and he opened it.
The door opened into a perfectly ordinary corridor, lined with doors. Mrs. Minchem seemed resigned now, and she opened the first on the right. “These girls are learning to sew,” she said, standing to the side. “They begin with sheets and progress to sewing a man’s shirt before they leave.”
Villiers followed Eleanor and Lisette into the room. A group of girls in plain white frocks were seated on a half circle of stools before a window, industriously sewing. As the door opened they sprang to their feet and formed a line.