The Reluctant Duke (Love's Pride Book 1) (5 page)

“Oh no Your Grace, I couldn’t have my Isabel working here at Brookshire sir, not in service. I had such higher hopes for her. She has been trained as a lady, sir. She wouldn’t be having any idea how to work, not really work sir,” she said with a knowing look shared between them.

“Um, well, obviously we must get her out of that wretched place. I wonder…” he paused, his mind evaluating and analyzing alternatives. “I wonder, would she be interested in being a ladies companion, at least for a short period, until something more to her liking might open up. Maybe we could find her a governess position eventually.”

“Yes Your Grace, I think she might like that.” Mrs. Morgan said with a confused look.

“Good then, it is settled. I will be retrieving my Sister fr…”

“Your Sister?” Miss Harding blurted out without thinking then immediately placed her hand over her mouth when she realized what she had done.

The Duke raised one eyebrow and looked at her silently for a second before returning to Mrs. Morgan.

“Yes my sister, Elizabeth, She is attending school near Swinton, she’s old enough not to need a governess, but I’m sure she’d like to have a companion here at Brookshire.”

He didn’t tell them that he barely knew his sister. She’d been eight when he left, and he had only seen her four times over the remaining years. He’d been putting off bringing her here to Brookshire until he had everything under control and running smoothly. In all honesty, he wondered if that would ever happen. Having a companion for her would go a long way to freeing him up from the obligation of keeping her entertained.

“Oh yes Your Grace, I think she’d like that just fine.” Mrs. Morgan said, her face cracking into a small smile for the first time in days.

“Good, then that is settled, Please prepare a letter of introduction. We will be leaving in the morning.”

“We….?” Miss Harding asked, nonplused.

“Yes, Miss, Harding, We! I cannot be expected to accompany a young Lady I don’t even know, all by myself halfway across England. Not without creating some scandal. Isn’t that right Mrs. Morgan?” he asked, looking at the cook for support.

“Yes Your Grace, And I have written to Isabel about Miss Harding here, she will not be surprised to see her.”

“That settles it,” he said with a final nod of his head. “And now to the matter of my breakfast, if you could Mrs. Morgan?” he asked.

“Of course, Your Grace, right away Your Grace,” she said as she scurried out the door.

.o0o.

Gwen didn’t even see her leave, her eyes locked on The Duke.

“Your Grace, I can’t travel with you to retrieve Isabel.”

“Why ever not?” He asked in all innocence.

“Your Grace,” she said in exasperation. “For the same reason that you can’t travel alone with Isabel.”

The thought of leaving the safety of Brookshire was frightening to her. The thought of being cooped up in a closed carriage with him was terrifying. Her heart started to race as she thought about it.

“Miss Harding, you are my employee, we are alone together every day,” he said. He looked at her with those deep silver eyes of his as if he had no idea what she was talking about.

“But Your Grace, people will talk, people will think that you and I are…” She couldn’t continue, her face flushed, and she could have kicked herself for letting it happen.

“But Miss Harding, You are on my staff, we are alone each day. I assure you no one would ever besmirch your good name. You must know that the rules are different for servants, even beautiful ones.” The Duke said, His eyes searched her face for understanding.

“Besides I need you, it is impossible to imagine traveling with a young school girl I have never met. What would we talk about?”

Why is he being so difficult she wondered? It wasn’t like him.

Had he learned something, did he know her secret? The thought of him knowing shook her to the core. She couldn’t live here if he knew.

Watching his eyes for any clue. He gave no indication of reproach or disappointment in her. Nothing that said he knew. But then why was he making her go through with this. His words sank in, did he really think she was beautiful she wondered, trying to suppress the warm glow that spread across her middle.

He looked at her with comforting eyes and said, “I do apologize for putting you in this situations, but I really must insist.”

Sighing, she nodded her head and bobbed a quick curtsy before leaving the room.

Gwen’s shoulder ached with a cramped pressure as the carriage rocked back and forth. The Duke took up so much room in the seat across from her; his legs stretched out in front of him as he worked on correspondence on a small folding desk across his lap.

She shrugged as she tried to release the tension in her neck while trying to concentrate on the book in her lap.

All she could think about was the man and how he filled the small space. The disturbing dreams had bothered her again last night, dreams full of steamy bodies twisted together on a carpet before a roaring fire. His hands and lips touching her, driving her crazy. She felt herself growing hot and bothered thinking about it.

Trying to gain control again, she focused on her book but caught a brief glance her way, his eyes peeking out from a lowered brow. Within minutes, she gave up on the book and set it down next to her and looked out the window at the green fields.

After only a few moments, the silence became oppressive. The pressure continually building until Gwen was about to explode. Finally, she had to let something out.

“The Sergeant Major said that he thinks France will stay beaten this time, that they’ll accept their loss,” she blurted, mentally kicking herself for sounding so dumb and immature.

The Duke set aside his papers and looked at her with a serious frown.

“Yes, I believe they will. Napoleon is in St. Helens, in full exile. Their army is destroyed. Their economy is in shambles. I don’t see them coming back anytime soon.”

Gwen felt some of the tension ease; they hadn’t addressed the real question. But at least they’d let some of the air out of the tight carriage. It didn’t feel as constricting, and she was able to breathe again.

“Actually,” the Duke continued as if he was very interested in the subject. “I believe we are on the eve of great times for Britain. We’ve been at war with the French for Eight Hundred years, neither side ever winning a complete victory. I think Waterloo ended that. It’s opened up the entire world to us. Africa, India, Asia, the Americas, almost all of it, there is no one to get in our way. The recent discoveries in science, our full control of the seas, a young man could make his fortune,” he said, looking off into the distance almost wistfully.

Gwen realized that he regretted his situation. Someone had handed him a fortune and all of its responsibilities. He hadn’t had the opportunity to make it for himself.

She wondered what he would have done if he hadn’t become a Duke? She imagined him leading a party through the jungle in search of some fortune or serving in some far off army post. Instead, he sat in a carriage on his way to pick up his sister and his cook’s daughter. How life must seem so boring to him now.

She was tempted to ask him about the army but instead asked him where he had grown up, immediately realizing she was creating a risk as he might start asking about her past. The burning desire to know everything about him pushed aside any sense of caution.

They spent a very pleasant afternoon talking about politics and history. They talked about the recent scientific discoveries, even about the illness of King George. It was a wonderful afternoon. It made her a little sad to think that they would probably never have an opportunity like this again. He was being pulled further and further into his ducal world. The next thing would be him going to London, and her staying behind at Brookshire.

She wondered if they’d met in different circumstances, different lives. Would there have been this immense attraction between them. Would they have been able to pursue their true desires? God, she liked to believe so.

.o0o.

Thomas was frustrated and harried and wished for a quieter life. He closed his eyes and rested his head back against the squabs. All the drama surrounding his every action was becoming rather tiresome. The constant worry about bringing shame to his family’s name. The need for things to be perceived as right and proper rested on his shoulders like a bag of bricks.

Sighing to himself, he thought of what lay before him. What would his sister think of all this? Would she be mad at him for not getting her sooner, for ignoring her all these years? How did she feel about being a Duke’s sister?

Parliament would be convening soon which meant a trip to London, and he still had to make a tour of his other estates. It could not be put off much longer.

All he had ever hoped for was a career in the army, long periods of quiet interrupted by short bursts of pure terror. Followed up by a nice retirement in the country somewhere, he might have written his memoirs. Life would have been good.

Instead, he was trapped in this Dukish prison. A place, he might add, that kept him from pursuing the one thing he wanted, the woman in the seat across from him.

Opening his eyes, he looked over at her. She was breathtaking again this morning, in her plain gray traveling dress, bordered by lace at the collar and sleeves. No longer wearing a simple maid’s cap, she wore a light blue bonnet that almost matched her cloak. Her blond hair was up with a small segment loose in the back. A wisp he was sure she did not know about.

He knew she was attracted to him almost as much as he was to her. Her eyes dilated when she looked at him. She’d bite the inside of her lip and wring her hands when she thought he wasn’t looking. Or touch her hair and smooth her dress whenever he walked into a room.

All the signs were there. But the barriers between them were insurmountable. Society wouldn’t let them explore the possibilities, at least not openly. His family’s name couldn’t withstand another scandal. She would be viewed as a harlot, a temptress, trying to use her body to rise above her station in life. He would be viewed as a cad, using his position of power to abuse a frail weak woman, someone trapped in his employ.

He closed his eyes and tried to put the thoughts out of his mind. He failed miserably.

.o0o.

The school house was a drab gray building located at the edge of the village. Three small stone steps led to a brown door in a flat stone wall. Thomas gingerly exited the carriage and held out a hand to help Miss Harding. She tightly gripped his hand as she made her way down the vehicles steps.

Turning he escorted her up the steps and used the head of his cane to knock on the plain oak door. An austere butler dressed in black answered and after a quick perusal opened it wide enough for them to enter. The Dukepresented his card that simply sai
d
Bathurst
,
laying it on a silver tray
.

The butler scowled at the card and asked them to remain there while he presented the card to the headmaster. Returning a moment later, he said that the Headmaster was available and asked them to join him in office.

The School’s leader stood behind his desk, the small white card in his hand. He was a tall, thin man, starting to go bald, with a pale complexion and a thin, weak chin. His eyes scrunched in confusion. Obviously trying to determine why a Duke would be visiting him.

“Welcome Your Grace, I am Mr. Strait, the Headmaster here,” he said, puffing out his chest a little. “How might I be of assistance?”

“Hello Strait, this is Mrs. Harding, we’ve come to retrieve Miss Morgan.” The Duke said, adding the Mrs. At the last second. Thinking it would avoid difficulty. She didn’t even flinch at the small lie. Good girl, he thought with a secret smile.

Strait’s face went chalky white and his eyebrows knotted in confusion. He obviously had no idea that Miss Morgan had any association with the nobility.

“I see, Your Grace,” he said, when he obviously didn’t. “I will have her brought in right away, she is currently teaching a class. Won’t you please have a seat,” he said, indicating the two chairs in front of his desk. “May I ask, how our Miss Morgan is associated with someone of your standing? I must say I am rather surprised.” His eyes darted around the room as if searching for an answer.

“Oh, her mother and I are very good friends, we’ve known each other since I was a little boy. Younger than many of your students here no doubt,” he said sitting only after he was sure that Miss Harding was comfortably settled in her chair. He looked up at the Headmaster, who had grown even whiter.

“Yes, of course … I um, yes of course. Let me get her, at once,” he said as he hurried from the room.

They could hear him yelling down the hall, directing someone to retrieve Miss Morgan and to have her come to his office.

The tall man slipped back into the room and behind his desk. Sitting down, he folded his hand in front of him, trying to gain control over something. He looked at the Duke, and then at Mrs. Harding. His eyes started to roam over her body. Probably thinking about how the high ton always got the best. His face blanched as he quickly remembered who she was with and instantly shifted his gaze back to the Duke.

Thomas’s hackles jumped as a heavy anger washed through him. He decided that he didn’t like this man. He’d been willing to chalk everything up to a misunderstanding, to retrieve Isabel Morgan and never have any dealings with this man or the school again, keeping everything quiet. It would be best for Miss Isabel, his sister, and for him.

That had been his intentions until the scoundrel had looked at Miss Harding that way. The man was a despicable cur and would be made to pay for that simple glance of disrespect.

The Duke’s mind began to wander to the many ways he could ruin this man’s life. He was only now beginning to realize all of the levers of power that a Duke possessed.

The office door opened, and a young woman of about eighteen stepped in. Dressed in a simple charcoal gray frock. With her hair tied back she looked plain and nondescript. A surprised expression registered on her face when she saw two other people in the office and stepped back when everyone else stood up in greeting.

“Hello Miss Morgan, I am the Duke of Bathurst, and a good friend of your mother. This is Mrs. Gwen Harding, who I am sure you have heard much about from your mother.”

Young Isabel nodded but remained confused, then remembering her manners, dipped a quick curtsy.

Miss Harding stepped forward with a smile and held out a letter. “Your mother asked me to give you this, she is well and said that the letter would explain everything.”

Isabel took the letter and then looked at the two newcomers trying to figure out what was happening. Seeing their smile of encouragement she opened the letter and started to read. Her face slowly went white.

“My mother told you of my situation,” she said, throwing Mr. Strait a hateful look, then returning to reread the letter.

“See, here, I really must be told what this is all about. Miss Morgan works for me, and I really can’t allow…” the headmaster said, shaking his head in confusion.

“Mrs. Harding, why don’t you help Isabel retrieve her things and we will be on our way,” Thomas said, gently smiling at the two young women.

Miss Harding curtsied and held Isabel’s arm as she escorted her out of the office. The young woman didn’t make her goodbyes, walking out in a daze, totally ignoring the headmaster.

Thomas turned and looked down his nose at the man behind the desk as if he were a piece of filth stuck on his shoes. Mr. Strait was flabbergasted and couldn’t believe what was going on.

“I say, see here. I can’t allow Miss Morgan to leave. She has classes to attend to; her students need her. No, I really must insist.”

“Mr. Strait, you seem to be under the confusion that I care what you want. You have made a terrible mistake,” Thomas said through clenched teeth. “You chose to pressure Miss Isabel Morgan because you believed her to be poor, young, and desperate. Most of all you believed her to be without any male protection. I know the kind of man you are. You sir are a coward and a cad. I plan to make it my mission in life to see you removed from your position. A man like you shouldn’t be anywhere near young women.”

The headmaster sputtered. Obviously he was not used to people talking to him that way. He clenched his fists while spittle ran down his chin as he looked around the room for some type of assistance. He started to come out from the desk and reclaim his employee only to have the Duke move in front of him, daring him to take another step.

His Grace, the fourth Duke of Bathurst relished the idea. The huge man gently leaned his walking stick next to his chair so that he would have both hands free, squared his shoulders and stared into the man’s eyes. Daring him to take another step.

A gentle knock on the office door broke the moment.

Miss Harding stuck her head in and said, “We are ready Your Grace.”

She looked over at the Headmaster and registered the look of alarm and fear on his face. She smiled at the Duke and then backed out.

Thomas grabbed his stick and went to the open door. He turned and said to the man. “You and I are not done. I would strongly recommend that you find employment elsewhere while you still can. Once I am done with you, you won’t be able to get a job shoveling coal in a pit.”

Miss Harding and young Isabel stood there waiting, both dressed for traveling.

Isabel, approached him, her eyes cast down. “Thank you, Your Grace, Gwen, Mrs. Harding, has explained everything, and I wanted to express my sincere appreciation for all that you have done.”

“It is of no matter, I assure you,” the Duke said.