Forever My Duke--Unlikely Duchesses

by Olivia Drake

  It was a life-sized portrait of his mother.

  Seated on a gilt chair in the library, Audrey radiated a fresh, youthful beauty as she gazed into the distance with a dreamy expression on her patrician features. A cluster of pink rosebuds nestled in her blond curls, while a few tendrils of hair trailed along the slenderness of her neck. Against the fairness of her skin, a delicate string of pearls encircled her neck. An open book lay forgotten in the lap of her elegant white gown as if she’d stopped reading for a moment in order to contemplate a happy future.

  Tears blurred Natalie’s eyes. She blinked them away, not wanting to upset Leo. How amazing it was to see her dear friend again, if only in oil paints on canvas. How strange, too, to see her draped in such luxurious raiment. She felt a renewed admiration for Audrey, who had given up silks and jewels to wear homespun gowns in a simple cabin in the wilderness in order to be with the man she’d loved with all her heart.

  Yet the Earl of Godwin had banished the likeness of his eldest daughter to this rubbish heap. He had hidden it away so that no one in the family could view Audrey again. How dare he treat her so shabbily?

  Leo stood staring at the portrait, sucking on his forefinger, a babyish habit that Natalie hadn’t seen him do in months. She pulled him close to her skirts, her arm encircling his small shoulders. “How lovely your mama was. It must have surprised you very much, didn’t it, to come upon this?”

  He reached out as if to touch the painting, then popped his finger back into his mouth, moving his head up and down in a mute nod.

  The Duke of Clayton appeared at her side, and her muscles tensed from an awareness of his presence. He hunkered down in front of Leo. His voice low, he asked, “What do you say, brat? Is it a good likeness?”

  Again, the boy nodded.

  “I’ve often found that it’s difficult to speak with a finger in one’s mouth.” Reaching out, Clayton lightly tugged on the boy’s arm until the finger came out. “Now, you may answer properly. You do recognize who that is in the painting, don’t you?”

  “’Course. It’s Mama.” Leo turned his innocent face up to Natalie. “Is there a picture of Papa, too?”

  “I’m afraid not,” she said, brushing back a lock of his hair. “You see, your mama was Lord Godwin’s daughter. She grew up in this house, in the very nursery where we are staying. That’s why there’s a portrait of her here.”

  He ruminated on that for a moment, then said in a small voice, “If nobody wants it anymore, can I—may I have it?”

  Natalie’s throat caught. “I’ll have to ask your grandfather’s permission.”

  “I’ll speak to Godwin,” the duke said, rising to his feet. “In the meantime, brat, perhaps I could carry it to the nursery for you. We’ll hang it in your bedchamber. Would you like that?”

  Leo’s eyes lit up. “Yes, please, Mr. Duke.”

  Natalie bit her lip to keep from saying that it might not be a wise idea to display a constant reminder for Leo of the mother he had lost. After all, he had only recently overcome his grief. But she couldn’t bring up the topic of his nightmares while Leo was standing there, all ears.

  The duke picked up the oversized painting and motioned to Natalie to lead the way back down the winding stone steps of the tower. Grasping Leo’s small hand, she was conscious of a simmering resentment over what Clayton had said to Leo. You do recognize who that is in the painting, don’t you?

  He had been testing the boy. He’d watched and waited to hear the answer. No matter what he might claim to the contrary, the Duke of Clayton was just like the rest of his noble family.

  He, too, harbored doubts that Leo was truly Audrey’s son.

  Chapter 8

  Two days later, Leo vanished.

  Natalie discovered his absence upon returning to the schoolroom after going into her bedchamber for a few minutes. She had left him sitting at one of the pint-sized tables, laboriously copying a list of words. Now, slate and chalk lay abandoned on the wooden surface and his chair was empty.

  The toy cavalryman that had been on the table was gone, too.

  “Leo? Are you here?”

  Receiving no answer, she did a quick circuit of the large room to see if he was crouched on the floor, absorbed by a toy. She checked the cupboards to make sure he wasn’t playing a game of hide-and-seek. Then she dashed back down the corridor and into the bedchamber opposite her own. It was empty save for his neatly made cot, a ladderback chair, and the portrait of Audrey hanging on the wall above a chest of drawers.

  Dear God, she had lost Audrey’s son again. It was just like a few days ago at the inn. Where could he have gone this time?

  Natalie checked the other three bedchambers in the spacious nursery, but the boy wasn’t there, either. Earlier, he’d been restless, wiggling in his chair, and grumpy at the prospect of more lessons. In retrospect, she ought to have realized that he needed the chance to run off his pent-up energy. They’d been stuck in the nursery for the past two days, and she should have taken him outside to explore the grounds on this fine, sunny day—never mind that his snooty relatives might object.

  She stepped to the open door and glanced in either direction. “Leo?”

  The only response was the echo of her voice in the narrow passageway. There was nothing else on this floor except for a few servants’ bedchambers. Just then, she heard the scrape of footsteps and rushed to the stairs to see a maidservant with an armful of linens trudging up the steps.

  “Susan! Did you happen to see Leo just now? He’s gone missing.”

  Alarm flashed across her youthful features. “Nay, milady. Shall I look for him?”

  “I’ll go. Please stay in the nursery. If he comes back, make sure he remains right here.”

  Grabbing her chocolate-brown shawl from the hook by the door, Natalie hurried toward the staircase. She needed to find the boy before he wandered into a part of the house where he was not invited. Heaven knew, it could be a disaster for him to encounter Lord Godwin. Especially after the way the man had cast nasty aspersions on Leo’s birth.

  Ever since the Duke of Clayton had revealed that the family suspected her of being a charlatan trying to pass off her own son as nobility, she had resolved to keep Leo away from them. It was only for the time being, she told herself, until Godwin’s solicitor arrived from London to verify the authenticity of the boy’s papers. Then the earl would have to accept Leo as his grandson.

  He would have no other choice.

  Meanwhile, she didn’t want Leo to be wounded by unkind remarks or cold scowls. He’d been happy since finding the portrait of Audrey, much to her relief. There had been no return of the nightmares he’d suffered after the massacre, and Natalie was determined to keep it that way.

  She hastened along a downstairs corridor, her shoes silent on the plush carpet as she glanced into elegant rooms, retracing the route they’d taken on their tour with the duke. She even went up into the tower room, but the boy was nowhere to be found.

  Every now and then, she called out his name. “Leo! Where are you?”

  Descending to the ground floor by way of a side staircase, she turned a corner and almost collided with Lady Godwin. The countess wore a gown of military-blue silk that hugged her lavish bosom. With the lace cap on her salt-and-pepper hair, she might have been deemed stately if not for the way her lips were pursed in distaste. She attempted to look down her long nose, but Natalie was half a head too tall for the snobbish expression to have any effect on her.

  “Miss Fanshawe. Did I hear you call that child just now?”

  “His name is Leo,” Natalie said testily. “And yes, he left the schoolroom when my back was turned. I don’t suppose you’ve spied him anywhere?”

  “If I had, I’d have sent him straight back upstairs with nothing but pap for his supper. See to it that you confine him to the nursery henceforth. I will not have strange boys wandering around this house.”

  “He is not a strange boy. He’s Lord Godwin’s grandson.”

  �
��That remains to be seen. Now, you had best find him before the earl discovers your negligence. My husband will not be so kind as I am.” On that incendiary statement, Lady Godwin sailed away in a rustling of skirts.

  Natalie took several deep breaths to dispel the heat of her anger. She could tolerate criticism toward herself, but not when it was directed at Leo. After losing his parents in that horrific attack, he needed love and compassion, not rejection from his only blood kin. For the umpteenth time, she entertained serious regrets about ever bringing him to England.

  But she had promised his mother. Audrey had comforted Natalie after the untimely passing of her father, had given her a home and a teaching post. The least Natalie could do was to honor her friend’s dying request.

  After checking the ground-floor rooms, including an enormous library and a deserted dining chamber, she began to wonder if Leo might have left the house. From the nursery windows, they’d watched the gardeners at work far below them, digging in the winter-bare beds, preparing for springtime. They’d observed a pair of swallows building a nest in the eaves. Then this morning, they’d seen the duke out riding with Lady Ellen and Lord Wymark.

  Natalie had stared at Clayton’s fine form until the small party on horseback had disappeared into a copse of trees. Had he finally cajoled the girl into accepting his courtship? The probability of that stirred disquiet in the pit of her belly. They seemed an ill-suited couple—not that she cared a whit how the English aristocracy conducted their grand marital alliances.

  Leo had asked rather plaintively when Mr. Duke would take him fishing as he’d promised. Natalie had made an excuse, fearing that Clayton’s interest in the boy only extended to discovering whether or not he was truly Audrey’s son. The duke had never actually intended to escort him down to the river …

  The river. Of course! That must be where Leo had gone.

  Galvanized, she headed toward the rear of the house and found a door that led out into the garden. As she stepped outside, the air held the tang of freshly turned loam. She loved the smell of spring, the warmth of the sun, the promise of new life. But at the moment her priority was to find Leo.

  As she hurried over the paving stones, a grizzled old gardener who was trimming the rosebushes tipped his hat to her. She paused to ask, “Have you by chance seen a little boy out here?”

  “Nay, milady,” he said, scratching his brow and leaving a dirty streak on his teak-dark skin. “Can’t say as I have.”

  Though tempted to correct that milady, Natalie thanked him and darted past his wheelbarrow, which contained an odorous mound of horse droppings. She clutched her skirts to protect her hem from other suspicious brown piles along the path. Perhaps Leo had departed the house by a different door.

  Beyond the garden wall stretched a vast carpet of grass, with green shoots dotting among the dead brownness. The rolling landscape hid the river that had been visible from the upstairs window. But she knew the general direction and headed across the lawn and into a copse of trees. Here, tiny buds of leaves formed a soft green mist on the barren branches.

  She tightened the shawl around her shoulders as a chilly breeze whipped a few dark tendrils from her bun. With every breath, she drew in the fecund aroma of fallen leaves from the previous autumn. Sunlight dappled the forest floor and lent a cathedrallike serenity to the scene. Strange how this English woodland could remind her of the American wilderness. At least she needn’t carry a gun here for fear of encountering a bear or a wolf.

  Just as her senses detected the burble of water and the glimmer of a stream through the trees, she saw someone standing near the bank. Her eyes widened. No, it wasn’t one person, but two.

  A man and a woman who were locked in a fervent kiss.

  Natalie stopped in her tracks. Even from a distance, she recognized the woman from her golden curls, the slim figure garbed in a robin’s-egg-blue pelisse. It was Lady Ellen, and she appeared to be fully engaged in the ardent embrace, with her head tilted back to allow the man to nuzzle her throat.

  Was that the duke?

  Warmth suffused Natalie from head to toe. To think Lady Ellen had professed to dislike him!

  Then her lover lifted his head to coo at the object of his affection. Natalie blinked at him in surprise. Those youthful features most definitely did not belong to the Duke of Clayton.

  Feeling oddly relieved, she decided to take a circuitous route to the river. She had no desire to be caught spying. This clandestine affair was none of her concern.

  As she started to retreat, however, her shoes crunched on the dry leaves and the couple sprang apart. They both turned to gape goggle-eyed at Natalie. The man reached inside his fine coat and drew out a sheaf of papers, which he furtively handed to Lady Ellen. Then he absconded at a swift pace into the forest, heading in the opposite direction from the house.

  Lady Ellen stuffed the papers inside her pelisse. Her straw bonnet hung by its strings behind her neck, and she quickly drew it up over her head and retied it as she came hurrying toward Natalie.

  “Miss Fanshawe! I daresay you’re wondering who that was. Mr. Runyon is one of our neighbors.”

  “He appeared to be more than just that,” Natalie said dryly.

  “Well … he’s besotted with me.” A charming flush on her cheeks, Lady Ellen let her fingers flutter over the paper corner that protruded from her pelisse. “He writes the most marvelous poetry. He thinks I have eyes like glowing sapphires and skin like sun-kissed cream.”

  “I see.” Natalie bit back a smile. It sounded precisely the sort of atrocious verse that would appeal to a green girl. “I thought you wanted to enjoy your first season unencumbered by a fiancé.”

  “But I do! I’ve no intention of accepting Mr. Runyon’s offer of marriage.” She clasped her hands to her bosom and twirled, her skirts swaying around her trim ankles. “It’s just so lovely to have admirers. Mr. Runyon is going to London next week, too, with his family. We shall dance together at every ball.”

  “Then perhaps you should wait until then to see him again, when you can be properly chaperoned. I can’t imagine your parents would approve of you two having assignations in the woods.”

  The girl demurely lowered her gaze. “Yes, Miss Fanshawe.”

  Natalie wondered if Lady Ellen’s word was to be trusted, but she had problems of her own to solve. “By the way, did you happen to see Leo out here in the woods? He left the nursery and I thought he might have come down to the river.”

  “Oh, he didn’t. Earlier, I saw him heading toward the stables.”

  The stables! That made sense, considering he’d taken his toy cavalryman. “He must have gone to look at the horses. Shall we walk back together?”

  Lady Ellen made no objection, falling into step beside Natalie. “You won’t tell Papa, will you?” she said a trifle anxiously. “About Mr. Runyon, I mean.”

  “I see no reason to be a tattletale. But is he really so ineligible that you must meet him in secret?”

  “He’s merely the third son of a baron. Oh, Papa will be furious if he learns about this. He and Mama want a grand title for me.”

  Though unwilling to encourage the girl to further misbehaviors, Natalie felt compelled to say, “If you love a man, then perhaps rank and money oughtn’t matter quite so much.”

  “Bah, I could never give up everything as Audrey did. Besides, I don’t even want to think about marriage just yet.”

  They emerged from the trees and strolled toward the stables that were situated a short distance from the fortresslike house. Despite the brevity of their acquaintance, Natalie felt a glimmer of sisterly sympathy for Lady Ellen. How sad it must be for her to know that society viewed her as a prize mare to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. “Well, it seems to me you’re rather young to make any hasty commitment.”

  “That’s what I told Mama, but she insists that I lure His Grace into making me an offer. She even made me go on a ride with him this morning.” Lady Ellen wrinkled her pert nose. “She doesn’t care
that the duke is old and stodgy. Or that I never know what to say to him.”

  Natalie frowned. “I assumed by now he’d have charmed you into accepting his courtship.”

  “Charmed? Why, he isn’t romantic in the least. Can you imagine him writing poetry to me? How absurd!” The girl’s eyes abruptly rounded, and a whimper escaped her rosy lips. “Oh no, there he is! Pray pardon me, Miss Fanshawe. I must dash away before he spots me!”

  Picking up her skirts, Lady Ellen scampered off, making a beeline for a patch of rhododendrons alongside the garden wall. The girl crouched down so that her bonnet dipped below the thick shrubbery while she crept toward a side door of the house.

  Natalie was hard-pressed not to laugh at the spectacle.

  A moment later, the duke came striding through the rear garden. He was a sight to behold in a midnight-blue coat that fit his wide shoulders to perfection. A snowy white cravat adorned his throat, and a pair of polished black boots and buff breeches accentuated his long, powerful legs. He appeared as faultlessly turned out as if he’d stepped straight out of an exclusive tailor’s shop, having purchased the most expensive attire available.

  Old and stodgy were the last words Natalie would use to describe the Duke of Clayton. The mere sight of him took her breath away—even though he might well be as unreliable as the rest of his family. She would not quickly forget what had happened in the tower room, when he’d asked Leo if he recognized the woman in the portrait. As if a six-year-old boy could be convinced to lie about the identity of his own mother!

  Leo. She still had to find him.

  Ignoring the duke, who had veered in her direction, Natalie cut across the lawn at a right angle away from his path. The red roofs of the stable buildings appeared through a stand of elms. She had not quite reached her destination when he caught up to her, matching his stride to hers.

  “Miss Fanshawe. Is there a reason why you’re running away from me?”