Never Doubt a Duke Read online

  Larissa glared at her youngest sister. Abelona sank back against Jane’s skirts. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare her.”

  “Creatures don’t take well to sudden movements, Abelona,” the duke murmured. “You might remember that with your unicorn.”

  If Miss Thorn wondered about the reference to the mythical beast, she did not comment. Instead, she shot Abelona a look. “Fortune doesn’t frighten easily. I’m certain she was only startled. Ah, here she comes now.”

  Fortune strolled out from under the chair, then paused to delicately lick the white of her front paw. Glancing up, the cat blinked great copper eyes as if surprised to find them all watching. Then she wandered up to Larissa and rubbed herself against the white of her muslin skirts. Larissa was so still, Jane thought she might be holding her breath.

  “She likes you,” Miss Thorn said with approval. “You may pet her if you like.”

  Larissa reached down and stroked her hand along the grey fur. Fortune arched her back against the touch. Larissa smiled.

  Calantha was trembling in her need to move. “May I pet her too?”

  As if in answer, Fortune moved to twine herself around the girl’s ankles.

  Calantha giggled. “She tickles.”

  “Me too, me too,” Abelona begged.

  Fortune eyed her a moment, and Jane feared the little girl was about to be snubbed. But the cat suffered herself to come closer. Abelona gently patted her head.

  “I believe,” Wey said, voice hinting of amusement, “you had questions for my daughters, Miss Thorn.”

  She smiled at him. “Answered to my satisfaction, Your Grace.” She turned to Jane. “And how are you getting on, my dear?”

  So many thoughts crowded her mind, pushed against her lips. Mr. Parsons’ stiff-backed manner, Larissa’s rigid expectations of order in the schoolroom, the duchess’s demands, Jane’s suspicions about Simmons. But she glanced up, and her gaze collided with Wey’s. His smile seemed hesitant, as if he knew all her doubts and concerns, as if he feared she would leave them.

  As if he wanted more than anything for her to stay.

  She smiled at her benefactress. “I love it here. Best position I’ve ever held. Tell His Grace to pay you what you’re worth, for I never plan to leave.”

  ~~~

  Meredith agreed to allow Jane and the girls to take Fortune up to meet the duchess. Her pet snuggled into Jane’s arms and cast her mistress only a fleeting glance as the quartet left the library. So much for being needed. Oh, why posture? Meredith had always known she needed the cat far more than Fortune needed her.

  “I suspect I will shortly be asked to secure a cat,” the duke said with a fond smile toward the door.

  “A shame Fortune cannot have kittens,” Meredith replied. “An accident when she was young, I was told. At least she will not be judged on her ability to sire heirs.”

  The smile that turned her way was cooler, more polished, and she was reminded of his father. Now, there had been a duke—all power, prestige, and pride. She sensed more in Jane’s duke, a thoughtful kindness missing from this house for generations.

  “I do think he’ll be suitable for Jane,” she’d told Cowls only this morning before setting out for Wey Castle.

  Her elderly butler had put his long nose in the air, as if sniffing for the truth. “Very likely, given the tales told of him. But I shall endeavor to keep in touch with my contacts.”

  His contacts. She’d never dreamed when she’d asked her childhood butler to come out of retirement and serve in her first establishment that she was getting such a treasure. But Mr. Cowls’ ability to ferret gossip from other servants was legendary. He and his brother, who served Lady Agnes deGuis, had a network of former associates, family, and friends throughout London and indeed much of England. There was little they could not shortly discover. It was from him she’d learned the fate of the previous governesses, and the duke’s pressing need for a new one.

  But what if she and Mr. Cowls were wrong? She could not allow Jane to suffer for it. After all Meredith had endured as a companion to Lady Winhaven, she’d sworn never to see another brought so low. She had not thought Jane to be the type to be taken in by a handsome face and broad shoulders, but it wouldn’t be the first time a lady had seen a hero where a villain resided. She knew how easily a lonely heart could be deceived.

  She made herself lean back in the chair as if she hadn’t a care. “It seems Jane is satisfied with the position. What of you, Your Grace?”

  Was that a twinkle in the green of his eyes? “I thought my opinion was of no importance.”

  “Lesser importance, perhaps,” she allowed, “but importance nonetheless. Has Jane Kimball lived up to your expectations?”

  Once more his gaze veered to the doorway, as if he couldn’t wait to see Jane returning. “She has surpassed them.”

  Meredith smiled. Yes, kindness, and more. Just what she’d hoped for Jane. “Excellent. Then it does indeed appear as if my work here is done.”

  He inclined his head, gaze returning to hers. “If you would tell me the name of your bank, I will have my London solicitor Mr. Mayes deposit the agreed upon fee into your account.”

  Cold rushed past her, and she pressed her arms to her sides to keep from shivering. “Mr. Mayes? Mr. Julian Mayes?”

  “The same.” He frowned. “Is something wrong, Miss Thorn?”

  Very likely she looked as if she’d seen a ghost. She’d certainly tried to act as if Julian Mayes was dead to her. But the duke must never know that.

  She gathered herself and rose. “Not at all, Your Grace. But I fear a bank would be inconvenient for me. I would prefer my fee paid directly.”

  His frown did not ease. Neither did her tension.

  “Then where may I have Mr. Mayes bring the payment to you?” he asked.

  “I would prefer not to meet Mr. Mayes.” Her tone was becoming clipped. Could he hear it as well? Another moment, and he might recall a different dark-haired, lavender-eyed lady associated with the dashing Julian Mayes. “Perhaps you could pay me now.”

  “I regret that I do not keep cash at hand,” he replied. “There is seldom any need here on the island.” His gaze roamed over her face, as if trying to see inside her. “Is there some problem with Mr. Mayes in particular? I know his firm has distinguished itself for solving difficult situations, but I trust him in more mundane matters as well.”

  And she could not trust him at all.

  Perhaps she should merely decline. It wasn’t as if she needed the money. Lady Winhaven had seen to that, however shocked Meredith had been to find herself the beneficiary of her late mistress’ will. But surely His Grace would wonder if she refused.

  “I simply see no need to trouble Mr. Mayes,” she told him. “Have someone drop the free off at my place of business, forty-three Kensington Road. And now, I really must go.”

  Before she betrayed herself further.

  ~~~

  What was it about the Fortune Employment Agency and everyone associated with it that always left him feeling as if the world had tilted? Miss Thorn had seemed redoubtable, yet one mention of Julian’s name, and she was fleeing out the door and calling for her cat to be returned to her. Julian had established his credentials as an exceptional solicitor, handling any number of tricky legal questions from inheritance to infidelity for his wealthy clients. Surely Miss Thorn need not fear him.

  Unless she had something to hide.

  He shook himself. His father had been the skeptical type, always expecting people to be less than what they appeared. Very likely that was what had driven him to evict that family from the island years ago.

  “Suspect the worst,” he’d advised Alaric more than once, “and you’ll rarely be surprised.”

  Alaric had no intention in living that way. He’d rather suspect the best, and he’d only occasionally been disappointed. All that was required was to temper optimism with solid facts, well researched.

  Yet something inside him had soar
ed to hear Jane declare herself satisfied with the position. He told himself it saved him from another painful search for a new governess, that it maintained household order. But he found himself a little embarrassed at how eagerly he looked forward to their evening chat.

  As the time drew near, he tidied up the papers on his desk, pulled out Samuel Johnson’s dictionary and left it open as if he had been looking for the perfect word, brought a second lamp from the stack to better light the space. It was when he caught himself adjusting his cravat for the third time that he froze.

  What was he doing? He didn’t have to impress the woman. He was the Duke of Wey. She worked for him! Besides, who could hold a candle to her dashing cavalry officer husband? He was returning the dictionary to the shelf when he heard a movement. He forced himself to stroll out from among the shelves.

  Parsons was gliding to his place by the wall, and Jane was waiting by the desk. The two lamps sent amber lights skipping through her dark hair as she turned to watch him approach.

  “Your Grace,” she said.

  “Jane,” he acknowledged. “Are you here to tell me the girls want a cat?”

  A smile blossomed on her lips, and his smile rose to meet it. “There was some talk,” she admitted, “but I discouraged it. The castle really isn’t situated to allow a feline easy exit and entrance, particularly in the winter. I doubt Mr. Parsons would want to carry a kitten out to do her business.”

  Alaric caught his butler grimacing before Parsons returned his gaze to the books.

  “Very thoughtful of you,” he told Jane. “Then things are going well?”

  She shrugged, setting her skirts to swinging. “As well as might be expected. Singing lessons met with approval. Arithmetic still evinces moans. But we progress.”

  He shook his head. “I feel as if I should apologize again for my household, Jane. I never realized we were so topsy-turvy until you arrived.”

  He thought Parsons sniffed his disagreement.

  “I’m not sure my arrival helped,” she said.

  “On the contrary. Thanks to you, we might actually be righting the ship of state.”

  She looked impressed. “Then perhaps I should go help his Royal Highness next. He’s always getting himself into trouble, from what I hear.”

  “Dreadfully dull fellow,” Alaric told her. “Nothing but frivolity morning, noon, and night. You’ll be better entertained here.”

  She glanced up at him from under her thick lashes. “Promise?”

  All at once, he was ten years younger, fresh from school and certain the world was his. He could imagine meeting her at her first ball, taking her hand, leading her onto the floor, proud to be partnering the wittiest girl in London. They’d take a turn on the floor, wander out onto the veranda. And, in the moonlight, he could bend his head to hers…

  Somewhere beyond the circle of golden light, Parsons shuffled his feet. The image vanished, and with it his ability to act. He was the duke. She was the governess. Duty and honor demanded that he remember that.

  Alaric pasted on a smile. “I promise, Jane. Never doubt a duke. Now, I should let you get some rest.”

  She curtsied, the proper response of an employee to an employer. But that gleam was back in her eyes as she rose. “We have a saying in the schoolroom. Sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite. Good night, Wey.”

  He inclined his head, and she turned and walked out the door. But he rather thought it was his conscience and not the bedbugs that would be biting him tonight.

  Chapter Ten

  What was she doing? Jane’s cheeks were still hot as she hurried up the stairs for the schoolroom. She’d been flirting with the duke, pure and simple, as if she’d been at the local assembly and he was no more than a squire’s strapping son. But he wasn’t the son of a local landowner. He was a duke, the father of her charges, her employer. If Jimmy’s stepmother hadn’t thought Jane good enough for a cavalry officer, Jane certainly wouldn’t be good enough for a duke.

  If she had any doubts about the matter, the next day proved her place at the castle. The morning was so cold, ice sketched patterns on the schoolroom windows, so she hadn’t the heart to take the girls on a constitutional or for a riding lesson. Instead, she led them marching around the schoolroom to the delight of Calantha and Abelona and Larissa’s unveiled contempt. Ladies, it seemed, did not march. She had just settled them with a history text when Mr. Parsons appeared to inform them that they were wanted.

  “Lady Carrolton has come calling,” he announced. “Her Grace desires that her granddaughters attend her and her friend.”

  Abelona hopped to her feet, but Calantha and Larissa followed more slowly.

  “I told you we needed to practice deportment,” Larissa said with a look to Jane. “We aren’t ready.”

  “It’s just a visit from an old family friend,” Jane said, rising and setting aside the book.

  “Not just any visit,” Larissa insisted.

  Calantha nodded. “Lady Carrolton is grandmother’s best friend. She comes by at least once a week. Betsy calls her Lady Quarrelsome.”

  Mr. Parsons drew himself up. “You can be certain I will speak to Betsy about the matter. I do hope you’ll do better about talking out of turn, Mrs. Kimball.”

  “I never could keep my opinion to myself,” Jane told him. “But I’ll try.”

  He did not look comforted as he led them from the room.

  Her Grace was entertaining in the withdrawing room, a cavernous space with pearly pink walls, gilded furnishings, and an inordinate amount of pottery. Jane tried not to gawk at the heavenly hosts cavorting about the painted ceiling and focused on their visitor instead. She had thought the duchess had an air of royalty about her, but the woman seated at her right on the pink velvet sofa made the duchess look plebian. Her long face was sculptured and pale, like finest marble. Not a curl was out of place in her elaborately styled white hair. Every inch of her amethyst-colored gown was pressed and stiff. She probably didn’t need whalebone to sit so tall.

  “Ah, there they are,” the duchess said, hands fluttering. “Come make your curtsies, girls. Mrs. Kimball, you may sit over there.”

  Over there appeared to be against the pink wall on a set of crocodile-legged chairs, one of which was already occupied by another woman a few years younger than Jane. Jane started to move, but Abelona snatched up her hand.

  “Don’t leave us,” she whispered.

  Jane twisted to meet her gaze. “I’ll be right there if you need me. Remember what your father said about respect. It applies to Lady Carrolton too.”

  Abelona sighed but went to sit beside Calantha on the matching pink sofa opposite her grandmother’s.

  Jane crossed to the wall. The other woman sat, feet firmly planted, both gloved hands tight on the tortoiseshell handle of the square red-leather case on her lap.

  “Travels prepared for anything, does she?” Jane murmured as the duchess reminded her friend of her granddaughters’ names and ages.

  The other woman’s gaze darted to Jane, then pointed steadfastly forward. She had honey-colored hair and eyes the blue-green of Lisbon’s Tagus River at sunrise. The shapeless navy gown betrayed nothing of her figure.

  “Her ladyship is under a physician’s care for a number of ailments,” she whispered back. “It’s important to be ready for any eventuality.”

  As if to prove as much, Lady Carrolton suddenly began sneezing, tiny little squeaks that nonetheless shook her slender frame. “Ramsey!” she cried between fits as the girls stared at her.

  Miss Ramsey rose and hurried to her side, drawing a large square of white silk from her pocket and holding it under the lady’s nose. The sound of her blow was far from delicate. Larissa sat unblinking, but Calantha winced, and Abelona looked impressed.

  Lady Carrolton sniffed as her companion withdrew the handkerchief. “Thank you, Ramsey. That will be all, but stay close.”

  “Of course, your ladyship.” Miss Ramsey snapped open her case, deposited the soiled handker
chief inside, and closed the case again before returning to her spot along the wall.

  Jane shook her head. “And I thought my post was challenging. I’m Jane Kimball, by the way, the new governess.”

  “Patience,” she said, adjusting her navy skirts around the box.

  “Yes,” Jane agreed. “I imagine you need a great deal of it.”

  Her mouth quirked. “No, that is yes, but that wasn’t my point. My name is Patience, Patience Ramsey. I’ve been Lady Carrolton’s companion for three years now.”

  “Then your name should probably be saint,” Jane told her. “Is she like this often?”

  As if in answer, Lady Carrolton began coughing, great whoops that echoed to the high ceiling. Larissa sat farther back in her chair, and Abelona cuddled against Calantha, who looked positively fascinated.

  Patience hurried to her ladyship’s side. She held a gilded vinaigrette under the lady’s nose and gently patted her back. “Easy, now. Breathe.”

  Lady Carrolton took several deep breaths, and the coughing subsided.

  “I must say, my dear, that you bear up well,” the duchess said as Patience returned to her seat.

  “I try, but it is a constant burden. My dear Lilith is beyond herself with worry.”

  “What’s wrong with the lady?” Jane whispered.

  “Everything,” Patience whispered back, “and, I fear, nothing.”

  Lady Carrolton began blinking hard. “Ramsey!”

  Patience hurried back with eye drops this time.

  And so it went throughout the visit. Lady Carrolton either convulsed over some ill or lobbed pointed comments at the girls.

  “Too thin,” she said to Larissa. “Have your governess dose you with calf’s liver oil.”

  The look Larissa sent Jane dared her to try it.

  “Too quiet,” she said of Calantha. “I cannot bear a girl with no opinions of her own.”

  “She’d love me,” Jane muttered to Patience.

  Patience’s rosebud mouth hinted of a smile again. “Your idea of an opinion may differ from her ladyship’s.”