The Perfect Duke (6 page)

She shook her head. The real problem lay with her weak nature. She simply needed to treat him as she would one of her students.

But a nagging doubt remained. If she rescued him, who would rescue her heart?

Garret kicked at a stone on the path, sending it skidding into the hedge and dimming the high sheen of his boots. For two days now he’d been unable to concentrate. Damn his impulse to kiss her. He clenched his fists at his sides and headed down the once-familiar path to the mews.

His dealings with women had always been discreet, a monetary arrangement, nothing more. So, why couldn’t he keep from touching Cara?

This time he would keep her at a distance, but he intended to find out why the hell she’d gone to the stable. If she’d wanted to ride, she need only have asked, and a groom would have brought her a horse. Once again, her deportment seemed in question.

The stone and timber building he had once known so well came into view. More ivy climbed the walls, but other than that, it hadn’t changed.

Cool dampness tinged with the smell of horses and leather surrounded him as he passed under the massive beams that arched over the entrance. With one hand he leaned against a polished support pillar, head down, until his eyes adjusted to the dimness. It had been fourteen years since he’d last come here. This used to be his sanctuary. One more thing he’d lost . . .

The rustle of horses in their stalls couldn’t still the voice in his head. Six-year-old Cara, or rather, Caroline, had been so happy that dreadful day.

“Are you my knight?”

He remembered how her trusting expression had made him feel much older than a boy of sixteen. She’d stood outside the stall, her hands on her hips.

“Knights don’t exist any longer.” Garret held Storm’s bridle while he ran a hand down the stallion’s glossy neck. The large bay reached over and nuzzled him, trailing moisture on the sleeve of his black velvet coat.

“They do so.” Caroline crossed her pudgy arms. “Nanny told me all about them. They fight dragons.” She leaned forward and dropped her voice to a whisper. “She says if I’m not good, a dragon will come and eat me.”

He smiled. “Really, well, we wouldn’t want that.” With a final pat to Storm’s flank, he crossed to the stable’s wainscoted tack room, then lifted a barrel and set it near the door.

“Come here, Caroline.”

She skipped to the entrance, sunlight illuminating the dewy softness of her skin and catching the golden highlights in her hair. He grabbed her beneath her arms and hoisted her onto the barrel, her legs dangling under layers of skirts and petticoats.

He crouched down so he could look into her sherry-colored eyes. “I want you to do something for me.”

“What?” She appeared so serious he had to keep from smiling.

“I want you to learn to be a lady. Like the princesses in your fairy stories. Will you do that for me?”

Caroline nodded, her curls bobbing around her head.

“Good, because I’m going away for several years, but when I come back, you’re going to be my wife. Do you know what that means?”

An impish grin lit her face. “We’re going to live here, like Mama and Papa live at Attridge Manor.”

“Not here.” Garret shuddered. Only the Duke of Kendal lived at Belcraven. His older brother would one day have that dubious honor. Edward appeared to thrive on the strictures society placed on a peer; even Grandfather thought he would one day be the perfect duke.

Caroline made a face that resembled a worried cherub. “A knight needs a castle.”

“We’ll live at Eberston.” Garret chuckled. “It’s not a castle, but it is on the ocean. Would you like that?”

Caroline nodded and started to rock, banging her heels against the barrel. “Can we collect shells? Papa says you can hear the ocean in a shell.”

“If you wish.”

Silence descended. Caroline stopped smiling and chewed on her lower lip. “If you’re going away, I should give you this.” She reached up, untied the blue satin ribbon from her hair, then handed it to him as if it were a gift of rare value. With an expression of concentration on her pert little face, she recited something her nurse must have taught her. “This will keep you safe. As my knight, you must keep it always.”

He solemnly accepted her favor, then ruffled her curls. Perhaps, in a way, he was her knight. “Now, I have things to do.” He lifted her down and made sure to turn as he stuffed the ribbon in his pocket. “Stay over here while I groom Storm. If you get under foot, I’ll tell your nanny where you are and she’ll find one of those dragons you’re so afraid of.”

Caroline had scurried off to a hay mound, a slight pout to her lips. She’d plopped into its center and her natural smile had reasserted itself as she laughingly made a game out of throwing fistfuls of hay into the air.

Garret grimaced at the memory. He hadn’t been much of a knight. With his free hand, he groped for the pocket that held its well-worn ribbon. Thinking about that time made him feel as if the last fourteen years had been a nightmare. Her laughter had seemed so real.

Devil take it, he
did
hear a girl’s laughter. It had to be Rachel. Why was she in the stable? He straightened and hurried down an aisle between the stalls. “Rachel.” He hadn’t meant for it to come out in a roar, but all his frustration bundled into that one word.

By the time he’d turned the corner, his niece couldn’t be found and Cara sat demurely on a bundle of straw. Did she think to play games with him? He strode to the set of hooks on the back wall, turned one, and yanked the panel door open. As he suspected, the cobwebs still fluttered and tiny feet had disturbed the dust. It would do no good to call her back now. He’d deal with her later. He shut the tunnel entrance and faced Cara. “Did you think to trick me into thinking my niece had not been here?”

“Of course not, but I did think it prudent for me to speak with you before you saw her.”

“And what could you possibly say?” He held up a hand before she could open her mouth. “Let us start with an easy question. Why are you here?”

“I’ve been holding some of Rachel’s lessons in the stable.”

“For God’s sake, why?”

“If you knew your niece at all, you’d know she loves horses. I thought she might be more receptive to lessons in a place where she feels at home.”

“Belcraven is her home, not the stable.”

“But she’s at ease out here. She insisted we have lessons in this corner to keep a horse company. It may sound odd, but she thinks he’s lonely.”

His gaze followed the direction she pointed. “That is ridicu . . .” He swallowed hard and fought back an unfamiliar sadness. An older and grayer Storm watched him with soulful eyes. The horse gave a soft neigh, as if he recognized him, even after all these years.

He crossed to the stallion and gently tugged on his forelock. Storm burrowed against him. Garret closed his eyes and rested his head against the horse’s neck. Would it have been so hard to ride Storm on occasion? He’d found it easier to cut out every aspect of his old life. His horse had suffered as a result.

“The horse seems to know you.”

“He should. There was a time when I practically lived in the stable. Storm was my favorite.”

“What happened?”

“I became a duke.”

“Oh.”

He straightened and forced his features into a mask of indifference. “So, Rachel loves horses.” He turned to face Cara. “I can appreciate my niece’s fondness, but I can not allow her to frequent the stable.”

“Why not?”

“It is not proper for young ladies of her station.”

“Garret, she’s a child.”

It was the first time she’d used his name, and somehow, Rachel visiting the horses didn’t seem like such a large request. “I will only allow it if she uses the passageway. At least I can keep the knowledge of her visits to a minimum. If you come with her, you will need to use the tunnel as well.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

She blushed and turned her face away. “I’m afraid.” She said it so quietly, he wasn’t sure he heard her.

“Afraid? Of what?”

“Dark, enclosed places. Even as a child, I fell asleep with a candle burning.” She faced him and gave a small smile. “Perhaps I’m afraid that a beast will gobble me up in the dark.”

“There are no beasts at Belcraven, Miss McClure.”

“Please, call me Cara.”

“All right, Cara. There is nothing here you should be afraid of. I would not allow anyone to hurt you.”

“Anyone?”

“Never.” He started toward her and stopped. Damn, it would be better if he didn’t get close to her. He turned and started out of the stable, but the whisper of her response followed him.

“Not even you?”

It happened, however, that the Lord gave orders for a ball to be held so he could choose his future bride. How Cinderella wished she could attend. But how could a cinder girl marry the golden prince?

Cinderella

Garret turned the key in the study door, poured a brandy, and sat near the fire. The picture of his grandfather drew his attention, as it always did. He raised his glass to the portrait, threw back the contents, and set the glass on his mother’s favorite table. July seventh. He’d made it through another year.

He stretched out his legs and rested his head back against the leather chair. The warmth of the fire and alcohol helped. With a sigh, he closed his eyes.

Had Edward really been gone fourteen years? It seemed as if only yesterday his grandfather was standing over him. Was it the old duke’s voice, or his very presence that had brought him out of the oblivion he’d clung to that day?

“I know you’re awake.” Disdain had edged the Duke of Kendal’s voice.

Why should that day be any different? Just because Garret’s brother, the heir to the Dukedom, was dead, didn’t mean his grandfather would show emotion. That would make him too human.

He’d opened his eyes, met his grandfather’s cool, green-eyed stare, and wished for the thousandth time that he didn’t look so much like the man. “Have they found him?” Garret tried to keep his voice from wavering, but it seemed as if his words bubbled up through a sea of grief in his chest.

“Edward’s body washed ashore, not far from where they discovered you.” The duke came around the edge of the bed and stared down at him. He was the picture of a nobleman, with his impeccable blue silk waistcoat, white powdered wig, and well-manicured hands. “At sixteen, I had hoped you would have garnered more sense. But then you have defied me at every turn.” He tugged at one lace-edged cuff. “Look at that ridiculous engagement to Caroline Pemberton. Thank God the girl had enough sense to die.”

Garret lunged upward, but weakness forced him back to the mattress. Bitterness at so many broken dreams weighted him more than his physical ailment. “Father and I had hoped to mend the feud with the Pembertons.”

The duke actually smirked. “Ah, yes, yet another
noble
cause. Your father was known for them. I am gratified to say that at least one of his sons did not possess that trait. Edward was a credit to the Kendal name.”

“You didn’t know him.”

“Did I not?” The duke bent over until his brandy-tinged breath warmed Garret’s cheek. “Your brother was on his way to becoming an admirable nobleman.” His voice fell to a whisper. “You will make a very poor replacement.”

“I don’t want the title.”

The duke straightened, and for the first time there was a flicker of calculation in his expression. Unease crept up Garret’s spine, but he held his grandfather’s stare.

With an arched brow, his grandsire turned his attention to the Belgian tapestry that hung over Garret’s bed. He studied it as if there were nothing pressing requiring his attention. But when he spoke, mockery oozed from every syllable. “Your
desires
are of little import. The title will be yours.”

The duke’s voice carried finality, and Garret bristled at the tone. He would not be a pawn in his grandfather’s game.

The old man turned toward him, clasped his hands behind his back, and appraised him with the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I had hoped you would be desirous of maintaining Edward’s standards. But perhaps it is too much to ask. Given that you caused his death.”

Garret stilled, hardly daring to breathe. “Why do you say that?” The pain so recently driven back by anger boiled to the surface, bringing with it the image of Edward’s expressionless face as it sank below the water, surrounded by a halo of blood.

The duke ran his thumb along the base of his chin. “Did you think I would not guess you were the one who wanted to take my boat out in the storm?”

“But I didn’t—”

“I cannot be sure how you encouraged your brother to join in your scheme, but because of you, he is dead.” The duke straightened to his full height. “You will take on Edward’s responsibilities as soon as you are well. After all, what else is there for you to do?”

What else, indeed?
All his hopes had died with the people he loved: Caroline, his parents, Edward. Did it really matter what he did with the rest of his life? All that remained were his younger siblings, and the Kendal estates. “What if I refuse?”

“Then I will implicate you in your brother’s death and you will be hanged for murder. You would not be the first younger brother to kill for a title.” The duke’s trace of a smile settled into a smirk. “After your death, I will train Evan to be a proper duke. He’s young enough to be malleable.”

“They’ll never credit your claim.” Garret’s wheezing voice turned into a coughing fit.

His grandfather shook his head and waited for Garret to quiet. “Whose word do you think the magistrate will believe? A young hellion, or a duke?”

The irony of the situation made Garret want to laugh. The old man didn’t truly believe he’d killed Edward, but he was willing to see him hang for it. Perhaps he should let him make good his threat. What difference would it make?

He shifted, trying to ease the tightness in his chest. Fatigue washed over him. His eyelids felt like lead, dragging downward and shutting out the light. If only he could go back in time. One simple mistake. He could have sworn he’d lashed the boom properly. He deserved death.

But wanting to die was the coward’s way out. Besides, Evan would never be able to stand up to Grandfather. Garret opened his eyes and schooled his features to match those of the duke’s. “I have no choice but to accept your
generous
offer.” A life for a life.

He’d done so well until now. Not that it had been easy, but Cara was never supposed—

Someone pounded on the door.
Damn
. Couldn’t they leave him in peace, just today?

He unlocked to door and opened it with more force than necessary. “What is it?”

Timmons stood in the doorway, his normally impassive face showed traces of anxiety. “Your Grace, I’m sorry to intrude, but there’s something I thought you needed to know right away.”

“Well, out with it.”

“Mallory’s returned.”

Bloody hell, couldn’t his sister do anything she was told? “Tell her I need to see her directly. I’ll wait here.”

He closed the door in Timmons’ face and took a deep breath. Now what was to be done with Cara?

Cara stood in the hallway, unable to turn away from the voices that drifted to her through the crack in the study doors.

“Mallory, I asked you to stay at Aunt Liza’s for a month.” Garret sounded annoyed.

His sister had returned? He should be happy. If she had a sister, she’d always be glad to see her.

“I hurried back as soon as I heard the news.” Mallory’s tone made Cara think of a mother reprimanding a young child. “Did you believe I wouldn’t find out? I had to endure endless balls where every female I encountered had pointed questions about my brother, the ‘Marble Duke’.” Exasperation tinged her voice and Cara could picture the admonishing look she gave her brother. “You really should do something to discourage that name.”

“I can not do any more about it than you can. Last I remember there was a bet in White’s book as to who would win the ‘Queen of Hearts’.”

“That’s not fair. I don’t ask men to fall in love with me and I certainly don’t encourage them, whereas, you do everything you can to make people think you’re heartless.”

“Perhaps I am.”

“I don’t believe that. I remember a time when you enjoyed life. A time before Grandfather . . . and Edward.”

“Do not bring up the accident.”

“Why not?” A dull thud filled the air, as if someone had slapped their hand on the desk. “I’m not going to let you marry that woman. You’ve only chosen her because she has all the criteria Grandfather expected in a wife. She’s more bloodless than you’re pretending to be—if that’s possible.”

“Lady Regina Stanton will make a respectable duchess.” Garret’s voice held a note of warning. “The final papers have not been signed, so I expect you to be courteous to her when she and her family attend the ball tomorrow.”

Garret was getting married? Cara wanted to sit down. Even better, she wanted to lie down and not have to face the duke ever again. With leaden limbs, she moved forward, not caring where she headed.

She remembered seeing the Stantons on the guest list. How could she face this Regina, knowing the woman would someday become Garret’s wife?

Cara stumbled down the hall of portraits. The old duke’s picture graced the wall at one end, and the disdain in his cold eyes emphasized her unworthiness. It’s not that she’d ever had any claim on Garret.

But she’d allowed herself to dream.

How could she have been such a fool? Unwittingly, she’d convinced herself that they’d find a way past their differences, just like the characters in her stories. Fairy tales were just that. Make believe.

They had nothing to do with reality.

The footman announced Cara. Garret didn’t feel ready to face her, but it needed to be done.

She entered the library at a subdued gait. It seemed as if the sparkle had left her eyes. Had she already learned of his sister’s return? He waited until the footman had given a slight bow and left. “I wanted to tell you in person that you will not be attending the ball tomorrow.” He’d expected hurt or anger, but she simply stared at him with those big, sherry-colored eyes. “My sister has returned unexpectedly, therefore she will be acting as my hostess.”

“I understand, Your Grace. It’s only fitting that she return to her rightful place.” Her tone was flat, lacking the spirit he’d come to expect from her. Yet he couldn’t fault her response.

Leave it to Cara to try and be gracious, but her calm acceptance caused his jaw to clench. He wished she would throw something, the way Mallory did when she was in a temper. Then he’d know how to respond, but this . . .? “Perhaps Rachel would like to watch from the upper balcony.”

“I’ll advise her, Your Grace.”

“Cara.” He wanted to ask her why he’d gone back to being “Your Grace” and he desperately wanted her to understand that he had to do this. “Thank you for arranging the ball. I doubt many women of the Ton would be able to do what you have done in a week.”

“My pleasure. Is there anything else, Your Grace?”

“No.”

“Then, with your permission, I’ll retire.”

“As you wish.” He watched her leave with that proud bearing he so admired. Disappointment dug at him. Surprised, he realized he’d been looking forward to this ball, but without Cara present, it would simply be another amusement he needed to attend.

“If you asks me, I think it’s disgraceful. You planned the ball. At least he ought to let you attend this evening.” Esther collapsed another petticoat and shoved it in the trunk.

“It doesn’t matter. The duke doesn’t owe me anything.” In truth, Cara was somewhat relived that she wouldn’t be forced to meet Lady Regina Stanton. “I have to admit, it’s too bad I won’t get a chance to wear Lady Mallory’s dress. Your alterations were perfect.” Esther had turned into quite a seamstress.

Cara held up the gown in question. She knew the deep blue silk did wonderful things for her complexion. The lace trim on the three-quarter sleeves and low-cut bodice were of the finest quality. Gossamer roses, set against a background of leaves and pearls gave the dress a decidedly feminine appearance. It was beautiful . . . but she’d only wanted to wear it for him. Now that would never happen.

At a tap on the door, Esther moved forward to let in the most exquisite woman Cara had ever seen. She reminded her of a fairy tale princess come to life, with her delicate features, golden curls and deep blue eyes.

The princess came to a stop in front of Cara, an expression of genuine warmth on her face. “Miss McClure, I’m Lady Mallory. I wanted to thank you for taking care of the household so efficiently in my absence.”

“You’re welcome, My Lady.” Cara couldn’t be sure she’d accomplished much. Timmons and Mrs. Shaw had barely spoken to her this last week, yet the household had gone on as before.

Garret’s sister gave Esther a genuine smile. “Esther, would you tell Mrs. Shaw that I’d like to take tea in the garden?”

“Right away, Lady Mallory.” Esther retrieved the ball gown from Cara and left.

She’d remembered Esther’s name.
That alone would have caused Cara to like her. How could brother and sister be so different?

Lady Mallory glanced around the room, then gave Cara an assessing look. “I understand my brother is holding a ball this evening.”

“Yes. It was decided just under a week ago.”

“Odd, my brother rarely holds balls. But then, he seems to be full of surprises lately.” With a slight shrug, she crossed the room, sat on one of the wooden clothing chests, and leaned forward with her fingers curled around the edge of the lid. She didn’t appear to be the least concerned that she crushed the pink silk of her gown under her hands. “Please, sit down.”

Cara sat on the bench under the window. It seemed impossible that this less-than-formal
lady
was Garret’s sister.

Her visitor tilted her head and arched a perfectly shaped brow. “And you’re also Rachel’s governess?”

“Yes.”

“I’m glad. I worried about her staying here.”

“Why?”

“My oldest brother isn’t very fond of children.” She gave Cara a wry grin. “Or anyone else, for that matter.”

“You’re mistaken. He loves Rachel.” Perhaps he didn’t show it, but she knew his family was important to him.

“Does he? I thought perhaps he’d scared her into behaving by now.”

“She isn’t afraid of him.”

“I’m glad to hear that. He has enough people who stand in awe of him.” She sat upright and rubbed the fingertips of one hand lightly along the base of her neck. A speculative glimmer entered her eyes. "You’re not one of those people though, are you?” Her voice held surprise.