Never Doubt a Duke Read online

  She was all business now. With the girls bundled in their matching blue coats, she helped them up into the waiting carriage—one of his smaller vehicles—then climbed in beside them. He joined them last. Mrs. Kimball sat facing forward, with Calantha on one side and Abelona on the other, leaving him to sit backwards with Larissa. It was a gentleman’s duty to give the lady the better seat, but Larissa did not look amused by the arrangement.

  “I should be sitting there,” she declared, pointing at her governess’s spot.

  Mrs. Kimball shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She rose, and Larissa slipped across the space, nose raised in triumph.

  Mrs. Kimball settled next to him. “You don’t mind, do you, Your Grace?”

  He should probably point out that Larissa owed her older governess respect. He should also be an example of putting service before preferences. But as the carriage started out and Mrs. Kimball bumped against him, he merely smiled. “Not in the slightest.”

  They rode out the gate onto the lane that led down from the castle to the island. The largest piece of property in the river for miles, the island was bisected by a single road north and south, crossed by a lane leading east and west. The farm that supplied the castle and held the other horses stood in the center. Fields lay fallow in all directions, dotted by copses of trees still dark with winter. Here and there a stone cottage jutted up. Most of his tenants were nestled inside, but the few who had ventured out in the cold raised hands in greeting as the coach passed. So much potential, so many lives, all in danger unless the lock worked.

  He’d pinned his hopes on the structure after reading about how the Thames Navigation Commission had installed locks and weirs upstream and down from his lands. Those structures were used to keep river traffic moving expeditiously, but they’d had the added benefit of slowing the progress of the river in places. Working with an engineer his friend Julian had located, Alaric had developed a scheme to turn the side stream that ran below the castle into an overflow for the spring floods. It had been a bold notion, requiring his tenants to take time off during the busy summer months to dig out the channel, line it with stone to form a canal. While they harvested crops, he’d overseen the building of the lock gates, created from timbers massive enough to hold back the mighty Thames. They were so close to finishing. He was merely glad January had been more cold than wet. Who knew what February would bring?

  “Just think, girls,” Mrs. Kimball said beside him, “the next time you come this way, you could be riding.”

  Calantha nodded, but Larissa raised her chin. “We have had some lessons, you know. I’m sure I’ll do quite well in the saddle.”

  “Very likely,” he agreed with a smile.

  “I’ll ride well too, Father,” Abelona predicted, “as soon as I have my unicorn.”

  “I know you will, Abelona,” he assured her.

  “Was their mother a good rider?” Mrs. Kimball asked.

  Not in the slightest, but he didn’t want to give Larissa a reason for refusing in future. “She wasn’t fond of horses.”

  He turned his head to meet the governess’s gaze. For a moment, it was as if she saw inside him, his loneliness, his loss. Then she looked away, and he almost spoke her name aloud.

  Jane. Would she let him call her that? Impertinent to ask. Impossible to ask with three little girls watching.

  “A shame.” She turned her gaze to the window, as if seeing something more than the winter-frosted land. “There’s nothing quite like being on horseback—the power beneath you, the freedom before you.”

  He knew the feeling. Even now, he could imagine giving his horse, Decatur, his head and flying over the fields until they reached the grey rolling waters of the Thames beyond. Instead, he sat in a coach as his daughters chatted, the sound surprisingly sweet.

  They reached the farm easily and climbed out of the carriage in the stable yard. Two stable blocks stood at right angles, each block holding work, carriage, and riding horses. Another building housed carriages, from the big landau built for travel to the tiny gig Evangeline had used to tool around the island.

  Alaric led the girls and Jane into the nearest block, where stalls ranged on either side of a center aisle. The air was thick with the scent of damp straw and rich earth. He did not spot his master of horse, Mr. Quayle, but one of the more seasoned grooms showed them around. He kept glancing at Alaric as if expecting a reprimand. Alaric had no cause. The place was well run, and the horses were fine beasts—he wouldn’t have had them in his stables otherwise. Unfortunately, none seemed the right size or disposition for a little girl and her first horse.

  “And not a unicorn among them,” Jane said with a sad smile to Abelona.

  His youngest daughter sighed.

  “There’s a nice brown one,” Calantha offered. “It has pretty eyes.”

  “She certainly does,” Alaric said, glancing at the sturdy farm horse. “But she might be a little large for your sister.”

  Jane was gazing down the aisle. The stalls on the left generally held work horses, mighty things that would be turned out to plow the fields come spring. The stalls on the right held riding horses, some not yet properly trained.

  “Interesting,” Jane murmured. “Excuse me a moment, girls.”

  Alaric frowned, but she was heading toward the end of the aisle, where a white horse stood in its stall, head bowed. A recent acquisition, if memory served, and one he hadn’t been too sure of when Mr. Quayle had recommended it. The horse was big enough to work the farm, but she disliked being put into harness. Mr. Quayle was working with her.

  “What’s Mrs. Kimball doing?” Abelona wanted to know.

  Alaric wasn’t sure how to answer. At Jane’s nod, a groom led the horse out by its halter, and Jane walked around it. By the way her lips moved, she was talking to herself.

  Or to the horse.

  Larissa tugged on his arm. “You see, Father? She does the silliest things. I don’t want her for a governess.”

  Now Jane was stroking the horse’s long mane, which had yet to be cut to the appropriate length for its duties. For a moment, he felt as if her fingers were sliding through his own hair, and he shifted on his feet to chase away the sensation.

  Suddenly, she spit on her gloves and rubbed them in the forelock. Calantha made a face. Larissa gagged.

  Jane took the lead and turned the horse to face them.

  At his side, Abelona caught her breath. “Look, Father! Look! Mrs. Kimball made a unicorn!”

  So she had. The horse’s forelock stuck out from its head like a horn as she led the beast toward his daughter.

  “What do you think, Lady Abelona?” Jane asked.

  Abelona was hopping from foot to foot, and he thought she might attempt to scramble up the horse’s legs. Instead, she threw her arms around Jane’s skirts. “Oh, thank you, Mrs. Kimball. I love you!”

  Jane’s brows shot up. Something tugged at Alaric’s chest.

  Calantha nodded. “Me too. I don’t care if you do silly things and smell like dead flowers.”

  He had a feeling Larissa had made that second comment as well, for she was turning red.

  “It’s just an old horse,” Larissa said. “It’s not a unicorn.”

  Abelona released Jane to glare at her sister. “It is! You’re just too old and mean to see it. Isn’t that right, Father?”

  All gazes swung to his, and only Jane looked the least contrite about putting him in this position. He had meted out justice as a magistrate in his corner of Surrey, negotiated difficult settlements with other landowners, offered terms on behalf of His Majesty to warring nations. Somehow, none of that seemed as important as what he did now.

  “Pierce,” he said to the groom, “saddle this beast. I want to see how a unicorn rides.”

  Chapter Six

  Jane stepped back with Abelona, Calantha, and Larissa as the groom hurried to saddle the horse. The flash of the dark eyes, the toss of that white mane, called to her. The horse was a bit tall for Abelona, to be s
ure, but the little girl would grow into her. Funny how the duke made the animal look fine-boned and delicate as he settled onto the saddle. He sat erect, proud, and the horse’s head came up as if she knew the sort of man she carried. With a nod to Jane and the girls, he urged the horse out of the stable yard.

  All the girls ran out onto the lane to watch him as he broke into a gallop.

  “Unicorns can go fast,” Abelona said, climbing the gate to the fields.

  It wasn’t just the unicorn. The Duke of Wey bent low over the saddle, as if he were whispering to the horse, and Abelona’s unicorn stretched out, skimming across the fields. Jane wouldn’t have been surprised to see wings unfold from her sides. She hadn’t seen a man and horse so well attuned since…

  She made herself smile as he cantered back into the stable yard.

  “Unicorn is a fine mount,” he said, swinging down from the saddle. “I’ll have her and some of the other horses moved to the castle for your use. You may ride her, Abelona, when you have proved to Mr. Quayle that you can handle a horse this size.”

  “I’ll do it, Father,” she promised. “I’ll be ever so good in the saddle. You’ll see.”

  He lay a hand on Larissa’s shoulder and another on Calantha’s, the touch hesitant, as if he feared he’d break them. “All my girls will do their best to be good riders. They are Drydens.”

  Larissa ducked her head, blushing, and Calantha sucked in a breath and stood taller.

  He released them and turned to Jane. “I should see about some work on the western tip of the island. Are you comfortable returning the girls to the castle?”

  Their faces fell. But after the way his ride had affected her, Jane was more than happy to take the girls back alone. “We’ll be fine. Thank you, Your Grace.”

  He nodded to the groom, who went to fetch a big-boned black horse. Very likely he was the duke’s regular mount. The horse certainly seemed powerful enough to carry a knight into battle. As she and the girls moved toward the carriage, he mounted and rode out at a far more sedate pace.

  But she could not forget the sight of him, silhouetted against the sky and flying.

  ~~~

  She managed to escort the girls back to the house and the schoolroom, but it was clear Larissa was still smarting about her father’s decision to support Jane’s curriculum. Jane decided not to give her charges arithmetic but directed them instead to a history piece about the War of the Roses. Though Calantha and Abelona listened intently as Jane read, even tales of thrilling battles failed to amuse Larissa. Jane could almost see the thoughts percolating behind her hazel eyes.

  Finally, she leaned forward and perched her chin on her hand. “We must be a terrible burden to you, Mrs. Kimball.”

  Calantha and Abelona straightened, frowning.

  “Not at all,” Jane assured them all. “I’m a governess. Caring for young ladies is my duty.”

  “But we’ve made it difficult,” Larissa protested. “Grandmother can be so demanding.”

  “Miss Carruthers said she was a perfectionist,” Calantha helpfully supplied. “I’m not allowed to say what Miss Waxworth called her.”

  “Her Grace wants what is best for her granddaughters,” Jane said. “Quite understandable.”

  “But we’re a trial as well,” Larissa persisted. “Abelona will only ride a unicorn.”

  “I love Unicorn,” Abelona said, gaze turning dreamily out the window.

  “And Calantha is horribly afraid of spiders.”

  Calantha squeezed her shoulders so high her neck disappeared.

  So much for a history lesson. Jane closed the book. “Here’s the thing about spiders. They’re squishy.”

  Larissa shuddered even as Calantha said, “Ew!”

  “No, that’s a good thing,” Jane told them. “It makes them easy to kill. Scorpions, now, those are nasty. Luckily they aren’t native to England.” She rose and went to the bookshelf for a volume she’d spotted earlier. “Let’s look up what is native to England, particularly the small woodland creatures.”

  Calantha and Abelona gathered close to her once more as she retook her seat and opened the book. Larissa pouted.

  The duke’s eldest didn’t give up, though. She pointed out every little flaw in her sisters, from the way Abelona’s printed her letters crookedly to Calantha’s tendency to slurp her cream of asparagus soup at dinner. As bedtime neared, the two younger girls shrank in on themselves more and more.

  Jane beckoned them to the hearth as they waited for the nursery maids to turn down the covers and fetch them for bed.

  “No one,” she said, gazing at each in turn and especially long at Larissa, “is perfect. I don’t expect you to be. I expect you to try your best and to keep trying. That’s all.”

  Calantha and Abelona nodded. Larissa stared at the toes of her slippers.

  “I know you’ve had several governesses. It’s hard to get used to people when they leave so quickly. I don’t plan on leaving any time soon. This is my position, my home now. You can expect me to keep trying my best too.”

  The maids came in then, and Jane wished the girls good night. Larissa gave her a narrow-eyed look as she left.

  “I’m not sure your oldest likes me in the slightest,” she told the duke when she saw him a short while later in the library. He had been standing beside a table and chairs nestled among the bookcases when Parsons had let her in. A fine marble chess set sat on the table, the knights riding high on their horses. His hands were clasped behind the back of his navy coat, fingers curled and thumb twitching as if beating time with his thoughts as he considered his next move, and she wondered who his opponent might be.

  “I’m not sure Larissa likes anyone except her mother,” he replied, gaze on the pieces. “Calantha and Abelona were nearly babies when my wife died. Larissa is old enough to remember. I suspect any woman would have trouble with her.” He raised his head, pleasant smile firmly in place. “You seem to have won over her sisters.”

  “Amazing what a unicorn can do,” she quipped.

  “There wouldn’t be a unicorn but for your quick thinking,” he countered. “Though I shudder to think what Mr. Quayle will say if you have to spit on the horse’s mane each time Abelona wants to ride.”

  “He’ll accommodate,” Jane predicted. “And eventually she’ll love the horse so much it won’t matter.”

  He waved her into the seat across the board and took the one nearest him. “Do you play chess, Mrs. Kimball?”

  She nodded, gaze going to the pieces. “My father taught me. Looks like someone has you in a corner.”

  His smile warmed. “My friend Julian Mayes. Care to press his advantage?”

  Jane rubbed her fingers together, noting location, the pieces still available. She grasped a bishop and slid it closer to the king.

  He stroked his chin with two fingers as he studied the board. Such a strong chin—determined. And his lips…

  Jane sat straighter. Better to think of something besides his lips. “You certainly put that unicorn through her paces today. Where did you learn to ride like that? I could see you leading a charge.”

  He moved his king to the right, out of the path of both bishop and the knight that had been threatening. “As a lad, I wanted nothing more than to join a cavalry unit. I trained for months in the vain hope I could persuade my father. In the end, he refused. I was the heir, you see, and there was no spare. Heaven forbid I die in battle.”

  “Fathers are like that,” Jane commiserated, edging a pawn forward. “Mine wanted to keep me close as well. I suspect that’s why Jimmy’s father let him go. He had three older brothers at home.”

  She glanced up to see something spark in those green eyes. “Jimmy—your husband?”

  Funny how it didn’t hurt so much to talk about him. When had grief turned to acceptance? “Yes. He was something on a horse. He could do all manner of tricks—hang off one side, ride standing with the reins in his teeth while firing.”

  He quirked a brow. “That must
have been something to see.”

  “Oh, it was. He might have ridden for Astley’s, the equestrian show in London, if he hadn’t decided to follow the drum. That was his dream as well. Took him two years to save enough for a commission.”

  He was watching her. “You must miss him.”

  She shrugged. “Not as much as I did.” The truth of it struck her hard, and she dropped her gaze to the board. Why, she’d almost made it sound as if the duke had taken Jimmy’s place!

  “Forgive me, Your Grace,” she murmured. “I’m here to report, not reminisce.”

  A noise behind her reminded her that Parsons was listening to every word. Jane raised her head, fixed her gaze on the bookcases beyond the duke’s left shoulder. That’s what Jimmy had said was the right way to report to a commanding officer—not too familiar, proper, respectful.

  “We haven’t found our rhythm yet as far as studies go,” she admitted. “Calantha and Abelona seem interested in history and the natural sciences, but Larissa still doesn’t see the need. Still, I live in hope. We’ll try arithmetic again tomorrow and see how that fares.”

  He sat back, as if realizing the time for informality had passed. “Excellent. I look forward to hearing of your success.”

  Her success? She glanced directly at him. The polite smile had become warmer. It encouraged her to share confidences, dreams. But there lay the danger. She had no right to share anything with this man, except the progress his daughters made.

  She rose and curtsied, and he stood and bowed as if she was a fine lady, an equal. The best she could do was escape the room before she said something to reveal herself further. Parsons saw her out and closed the door firmly behind her.

  What was wrong with her? She shook her head as she started up the sweep of the main stairs. Twice in one day she’d let blatant sentimentality intervene. She should not be looking for encouragement of a personal nature from the duke. They had no personal relationship. Their professional relationship made it impossible to be truly friends. She had not come here seeking a husband. She’d had a husband, a wild, passionate, devil-may-care husband. She didn’t want another. The duke didn’t appear to be looking for a wife. And he certainly wouldn’t go hunting for one in the schoolroom.