The Duke in Disguise Page 7

  "Another time, perhaps," Richard said, his gaze sliding back to Miss Shelby.

  She slid her spectacles back onto her nose and rose regally to her feet. From below he had the perfect view of her breasts, corseted so immovably within her dark blue gown.

  She frowned at him, so he stood up beside her.

  "Did we have an appointment I did not know about, Your Grace?"

  "No."

  Victoria and Albert trotted past him, and put their snuffling noses down near Stephen's. The boy laughed and put his arms around their necks.

  "But I made a decision that Victoria and Albert need more training than I can give them," Richard continued. "I thought Stephen should come with me to talk to the huntsman. You, of course, may come as well."

  He saw the indecision she didn't bother to hide.

  "I'll accompany Stephen, Your Grace. We can finish our studies afterward."

  "Will you accompany me, too?" he asked, enjoying the playfulness that he'd once thought didn't come naturally to him.

  "If I must."

  "Ah, your reluctance wounds me, Miss Shelby."

  She looked up at him over her spectacles. "I'm sure you have plenty of other ladies who would never wound you. A Lady Parthenope comes to mind."

  "Lord Yardley's sister?" He grinned down at her. "You are a natural flirt, Miss Shelby."

  She looked down at Stephen, who scratched the hounds' ears and watched his father and governess.

  "I do not flirt."

  "Then call it a natural ability to excel in drawing room conversation. Surely you did much of that before your…unfortunate circumstances."

  "Converse in drawing rooms?"

  "Converse with men— and women— in drawing rooms."

  She shrugged and leaned over to wipe the dirt and leaves from her skirts. "I attended my share of dinners and parties."

  "Do you miss them?" he asked, knowing he was going beyond playfulness.

  She could have answered flippantly, but she gave it some consideration. "I miss the companionship of a busy social life. But that could be summarized in one sentence. I miss my sisters more."

  She did not look at him, just continued to watch over Stephen, who rolled around with the dogs.

  "How many sisters do you have?"

  "You already asked me that at our first interview," she said crossly.

  He liked that she wasn't afraid to speak her mind to a duke.

  "You cannot expect me to remember such a detail from months ago when you were a stranger to me."

  "A stranger you were hiring to teach your son!"

  "Well, yes, so humor me and answer again."

  "I have two sisters."

  When she said nothing more, he said, "And their names? Their ages?"

  She sighed. "At twenty-four, Louisa is two years older than I."

  So Miss Shelby was young— eight years less than he. He was feeling older by the minute.

  "She went off to be a companion to an elderly woman. Victoria is four years older than I, and I just received word several weeks ago that she is to be married to Viscount Thurlow."

  "I don't know the man," he said thoughtfully, "but I've heard him speak in the House of Commons. He's quite the politician."

  Suddenly, she met his gaze, and in her own he saw worry.

  "Are you speaking with honesty, or with sarcasm?" she asked.

  "Honesty. Why?"

  "She only just met him." Her voice lowered and slowed, as if it were pulled out of her. "I worry that she is only doing this to save our mother from poverty."

  "And if she is, then she's a good daughter. Are you not attempting to do the same thing?"

  Miss Shelby closed her eyes for a moment. "Perhaps you're right. I guess I shall discover his character when I attend their wedding."

  It was his turn to frown. "I did not know of your request for a holiday."

  "I discussed it with Mrs. Theobald. I thought such a thing beneath your notice."

  "My son is not beneath my notice. When is the wedding, and how long will you be gone?"

  "I leave in four days, and I'll be gone for four. I assure you, Stephen might be glad for the holiday from me."

  She was attempting to lighten his mood, but he could see her worry. A man in his position could selfishly refuse her permission to go.

  And he was tempted.

  What if she didn't return? Her sister would be a wealthy woman. Surely Viscount Thurlow would provide for his new sisters by marriage. Miss Shelby could once again have all of London at her feet.

  "I'm sure Nurse Weston can keep Stephen occupied while you're gone," Richard finally said.

  She didn't bother to hide her relief. "Thank you, Your Grace."

  "But until then, you're at my beck and call."

  She took a step away, suspicious yet again.

  "Stephen and I have been invited to an assembly in Ramsgate."

  She looked at the boy dubiously, as he found a new patch of mud to play in. "Lord Ramsgate, we are with your father. Do behave."

  The boy sat back on his heels guiltily, but continued to look at the mud with longing.

  "Yes, Stephen will be attending," Richard continued. "There will be a separate party for the children, and I need you to watch over him. If you have nothing appropriate to wear, I'm sure Mrs. Theobald— "

  "I can find something, Your Grace. I will not embarrass you."

  She folded her lips together primly, and he knew she was offended.

  "I would not be embarrassed if you attended dressed as you are."

  She gave him a disbelieving stare, then said, "But of course. I'm the governess."

  "You misunderstand me quite deliberately once again, Miss Shelby. I simply meant that your handsome looks make any gown passable."

  He wasn't giving her too much of a compliment, not really. But the faintest blush rose up her neck and overtook her cheeks.

  That was the response he wanted.

  "Now that that's settled," he said, "let us go visit the huntsman."

  Stephen jumped to his feet. "The huntsman? Will you hunt a fox today, Father? I could go with you. My riding is no longer so dreadful."

  "And who claims you're a dreadful rider?" Richard asked.

  "Why, you, Father."

  If Stephen had kicked him, it couldn't have hurt more. What kind of a fool was Cecil? Miss Shelby pointedly looked off to a distant corner of the garden, as if leaving Richard to sink or swim alone.

  "Then I did not make my meaning clear, Stephen," he said, trying not to sound too gentle. "I meant you were having a dreadful time that particular day, and we all have those."

  "Oh," Stephen said brightly.

  "But we're not riding today. Victoria and Albert have become quite willful of late, and some training is in order. Would you like to work with the huntsman to train them?"

  Stephen's answer was plain. He called the dogs by name and began to run toward the kennel, situated back behind the stables.

  "You'll still accompany us, Miss Shelby?" Richard asked.

  "If you don't mind, Your Grace, I have changed my mind. I have letters I should write."

  "To your sisters?" he said, wondering what he'd done to drive her away.

  "And my mother."

  "Then go ahead."

  She left him standing in the garden, and he watched the sway of her hips, and the disciplined way she held her shoulders before she disappeared past the fountain. Did she carry herself differently when she was free from the worry of finances? And however did such a lovely woman not have dozens of men clamoring to marry her, even without a dowry? He was tempted to have someone investigate further, but he chastised himself. He was not here to pursue a governess; he was here to see to his nephew's safety. His priorities back in place, he followed Stephen toward the kennel.

  Yet his mind betrayed him by imagining Miss Shelby at the assembly. Even though she would be taking care of Stephen, there would be men there who would want to dance with her.

  But he co
uldn't.

  Chapter 7

  Two days later, Meriel used her free time during the afternoon to lay out her evening clothes for the assembly that night. The sedate gown of deep purple, with a respectable neckline, had been crushed during the move, and she hadn't bothered to have it ironed.

  To prevent more unrest, Meriel was trying to keep quiet the news that she was attending, so she could hardly ask Beatrice or Clover to take the gown to the laundry. She would just have to ask the laundress herself. Surely the woman would not refuse her request.

  It was a several minutes' journey back to the servants' wing of the house, where the corridors were narrower and darker. She passed the occasional footman or scullery girl, but no one questioned her. She had to cross the entrance to the servants' hall on her way, and she held her breath, hoping that luncheon was long finished.

  A woman's voice called, "Miss Shelby?"

  Meriel closed her eyes and came to a stop. It was not Mrs. Theobald. She turned about and looked into the hall.

  There were several long tables with benches on either side. The ceiling rose high above, and on either end were massive hearths that would fit in as well with the decor in her own father's drawing room. Beatrice, Clover, and two other women that Meriel couldn't place were just rising from the table with plates in their hands.

  "Did you wish to speak to me?" Meriel asked, not knowing to whom she was directing her question.

  Beatrice coldly eyed the gown Meriel was carrying. "Back to the laundry again, are you?"

  Clover snickered behind her hand.

  Meriel simply nodded.

  "What do you need such a fancy dress for?" Beatrice demanded.

  This was the question she'd been dreading. "I'm to accompany young Lord Ramsgate."

  Beatrice reddened with obvious anger, Clover's mouth dropped open, and the two other women fell to whispering to each other.

  "You're attending the assembly?" Clover demanded.

  "There is a children's reception in the next room. I will be overseeing Lord Ramsgate there."

  "But you're attending the assembly," Clover said again.

  "I will be working," Meriel pointed out.

  Beatrice strode toward her, leaving her dishes forgotten on the table. "But you'll be escorted by His Grace."

  "He is my employer, the same as he is yours," she said patiently.

  "But you'll be escorted by His Grace!" Beatrice fairly shouted it like an accusation.

  "It's not fair!" Clover said to the other two women.

  "It is not my wish to attend," Meriel said, wondering if she could turn her back and walk away.

  "He can't have chosen her!" Beatrice said to the others. "He's been in London so long he hasn't picked one of us in ages!"

  Meriel was stunned that the woman was near tears. "He has not chosen me for anything other than as governess to his son."

  "And she's stupid, too!" Clover cried, aghast. "Everything's going wrong. He's never waited this long to choose one of us!"

  Meriel stared uncomprehending between them, and was relieved when the voice of sanity in the person of Mrs. Theobald spoke from the doorway.

  "Girls, what is going on here?"

  "Has he chosen her, Mrs. Theobald?" Beatrice demanded as spokesman for the group.

  The housekeeper's lips formed a thin line as she glanced at Meriel with a surprising amount of guilt. "He has not chosen anyone, girls. I am always the first to know."

  This seemed to mollify them. With their noses in the air, they marched past Meriel without saying another word.

  Meriel stared at the housekeeper in the silence that followed, waiting for an explanation. When none came, she said, "Mrs. Theobald, what do they worry I've been chosen for?"

  The older woman sighed. "Come to my office for tea, Miss Shelby."

  Meriel didn't want tea. But she wanted answers, so she accompanied the housekeeper across the corridor to her sitting room. Mrs. Theobald closed the door behind her and poured them each a cup of tea from a tray on her desk. The account books of her station were lined behind her on shelves. A table and several chairs were grouped on the far side of the room, where Meriel knew she often hosted the upper servants for dessert. Meriel had never been invited.

  Oh, she knew Mrs. Theobald would not deliberately hurt her. The woman was only thinking about Meriel's position as governess, one above the other servants. But Meriel would have enjoyed having an occasional conversation that was not about Stephen.

  Mrs. Theobald sat back in a cushioned chair next to Meriel and released a deep sigh. "Miss Shelby, His Grace has certain…peculiarities, all of which are tolerated because he is a duke."

  Meriel nodded, feeling worry begin to seep in to squeeze her chest.

  "Have you noticed how lovely most of the female staff are?" the housekeeper asked.

  "How could I not?" Meriel said dryly. "Nurse Weston said I was hired for the same reason, although I find that very doubtful. I am well qualified to be a governess— "

  Mrs. Theobald interrupted. "I have no doubt that you are, Miss Shelby. But it is true, His Grace prefers to look upon beauty in his household. There is a purpose to this of course, one that is morally reprehensible. But he is so generous about it that none of the girls mind. In fact they almost…compete."

  "Compete for what?" Meriel demanded, losing her patience.

  "Every month or so, the duke chooses a new mistress from among the staff, either here or in another of his homes."

  Meriel stiffened and simply stared at the housekeeper, who watched her closely.

  "Are you saying…he deliberately chooses a member of his own household and demands that she…satisfy his needs?" She felt sick to her stomach that she had not suspected the duke of such depravity. While she'd been trying not to fantasize about him, he'd been sizing her up as a potential conquest.

  "There is no demand involved," Mrs. Theobald said. "The maids understand very well what will happen. When the duke chooses a woman, she is treated like a queen for that month, showered with gifts, and in the end, given a sum of money that she could not hope to earn in her lifetime. Of course, she is then released from the household, but none of the women have minded."

  "Are you saying that it's acceptable because he pays them like they are prostitutes?" Meriel said, aghast.

  The old woman put her face in her hands for a moment. "His father the old duke was the same. I regret that I take it for granted, but there is nothing I can do to change it. If His Grace treated the girls cruelly, I would stand up to him. But he doesn't. They experience more kindness from him than most have ever seen. Do you know how they'd react should I try to stop the practice? You've seen Beatrice's and Clover's reaction to you."

  Meriel sat back and tried to rationally examine her own disappointment. Masters seducing their servants was nothing new— the fact that these women wanted to be seduced was something she couldn't imagine. She knew she'd been partly chosen for her features, but it seemed worse now that she knew he might act upon his baser needs.

  She finally realized that she had thought this behavior beneath him. Had she expected him to be noble, when he'd shown her no such inclination? Why did she want him to be different from other sinful men?

  Because she was attracted to him. Because the feelings she couldn't control told her he was worth her admiration.

  And she'd been lying to herself, letting her emotions sway her judgment. He had shown her the kind of man he was over and over— forgetting about his son for months on end, maneuvering to get her alone, talking to her like she was an equal to ease her suspicion of him.

  He was looking for a woman easily seduced. And the way she'd been behaving, he could have kissed her and she might have believed she was special to him. She was the worst kind of fool.

  "Miss Shelby?" Mrs. Theobald spoke in a hesitant voice. "Are you well?"

  "I am." Her voice was back under her control, and she would make sure her silly emotions followed. "Thank you for explaining everything to me."
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  "Are you going to leave your position here?"

  Meriel thought of Stephen, who'd seemed to blossom under her discipline and tutelage. How could she leave him with his father, a man who might very well hire the next governess because of her bosom, not her intellect!