by Olivia Drake
Including Lady Ellen.
He winced from more than just the ache in his shoulder. By letting himself be distracted, he’d forgotten all about his intended bride. He mustn’t let that happen again.
Nevertheless, his thoughts strayed back to Natalie. His intense desire for her could not be faulted. Any adult male not on his deathbed would find her enticing. But he would admire her from afar and control his baser impulses.
They’d be friends. Just friends, nothing more.
* * *
Natalie used the pinning of her hair as an excuse to watch the duke—Hadrian—walk away. He strode directly to his cousin, who was sitting on the ground, rubbing his knee. The husky, dark-haired fellow in workman’s clothing who stood over Wymark must be Bert, the groom. When the duke reached them, he and Bert pulled Wymark to his feet. The younger man proceeded to slap the dust from his buckskin breeches and green coat.
Dragging her gaze away, she looked for Leo. The boy was lying on his stomach beside the paddock fence, playing with his toy cavalryman as if nothing untoward had happened. He deserved a sound scolding, but she was still too shaken to summon the energy to administer one.
It was more than the near-tragedy that disturbed her. It was also the experience of lying beneath Hadrian in the aftermath. She had a vivid memory of his hard body, heavy and masculine, pressing into her bosom and hips. The alluring feel of him had awakened a hunger unlike anything she had ever known. Excitement had sizzled like wildfire in her depths, along with the giddy desire to let him do with her as he willed. Her body still quivered with the afterglow of warmth.
Heaven help her. He was an English lord, the highest rank of the nobility. It was absurd to feel so drawn to a man who was all wrong for her.
Wasn’t it?
Then again, any woman would be attracted to the Duke of Clayton. Even if one ignored his title, he was a tall, well-built man who exuded an air of competence and strength. The breeze tousled his thick brown hair, the sunlight picking out lighter caramel strands. But it was more than just his devilishly handsome features that appealed to her. In the gray eyes that she’d initially found cold and impenetrable, she had come to see intelligence and humor. She’d enjoyed the byplay of their conversations. And although his countenance was often serious, he also had an ironic wit that made him stimulating company. He’d parried her teasing well, and she’d always appreciated a man who could laugh at himself.
At the moment, though, he appeared to be in full ducal mode.
It was clear from those stern features that he was in the midst of issuing a severe reprimand to his cousin, who wore a sullen scowl. The family dynamics sharpened her curiosity. Although she didn’t know Wymark’s precise age, he looked to be perhaps twenty, not quite having reached his majority. Any young man on the cusp of manhood would resent being dressed down by an older relation.
The breeze carried the sharp rumble of Hadrian’s voice, though she could not quite discern his words. But she noticed that it was utterly unlike the warm, husky tone he had used with her. A memory teased her mind. In the instant when she’d noticed his injury, he’d been in the middle of saying something to her.
You’re the most—
The most … what? The most outspoken woman he’d ever met? The most vexing? The most beautiful?
She shook her head to deny the treacherous melting inside her. How ludicrous. Hadrian doubtless found her quite ordinary. He must be acquainted with dozens—perhaps hundreds—of elegant ladies who had the luxury to do nothing but pamper themselves all day. He would never sing the praises of a provincial American who had taught school in the wilderness, who refused on principle to curtsy, and who had managed to lose a wayward six-year-old boy twice in a matter of a few days.
No, if Hadrian had any interest in her at all, it could not be respectable.
Her father had grown up in England, and he’d spoken disparagingly of the noblemen who dallied with commoners while marrying blue-blooded ladies. Papa’s father—Natalie’s grandfather—had been a member of those exalted circles. A dislike of the aristocracy had been a primary reason why her father had emigrated to America as a young man. She’d be foolish to ignore the wisdom of his experience and form an attachment to any lord.
It was best to relegate the duke to the role of useful ally.
With that firm decision, she focused her attention on what was truly important. “Leo, please stand up. You and I need to have a talk about why you left the nursery.”
He stopped his cavalryman in mid-gallop. After taking one cautious look upward at her unsmiling face, he clambered to his feet and hung his head. “I didn’t want to practice my letters no more. I already know them.”
“Anymore,” she corrected. “And that doesn’t give you the right to wander about wherever you please.” This isn’t America, she wanted to say, but lacked the heart to remind him of his old life. “I spent the better part of an hour looking for you all over the house and the grounds.”
“Sorry,” he muttered, kicking the dirt with the toe of his shoe.
He did look repentant, but she sank down to his level anyway, placing her hands on his small shoulders and gazing into the grimy, freckled face that had been squeaky clean this morning. “By coming here to the stables without permission, you put yourself in harm’s way. That horse very nearly knocked you down. You might have been badly hurt.”
“Mr. Duke knocked me down instead. He saved me.”
Hero worship shone in his blue eyes, and Natalie felt a pang in her heart. She prayed that Hadrian would not disappoint the boy once she left here. Then she swallowed hard, not wanting to think about the future. “Well, you’re very lucky he was here. But you must promise never to run off like that again. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Miss Fanshawe.”
“Excellent. Let’s return to the nursery now. You’ll need a wash-up after playing in the dirt.”
To his credit, Leo didn’t argue as she rose to her feet and grasped his small hand. The route back to the house required them to walk toward Hadrian, who was still deep in conversation with his cousin at the edge of the stable yard. Nearing them, Natalie had the prickly sense of being watched.
And it wasn’t by the duke.
Her gaze fell on Bert, slouching against a fencepost. Arms crossed, the brawny groom was staring openly at her. He had curly black hair and a crude handsomeness marred by a crooked nose. As he caught her eye, his lips peeled back into a leering smile that made her skin crawl.
She pulled her shawl tightly around her and assumed a look of icy scorn before turning her attention from him. It was an expression that she had perfected to ward off sailors and other ne’er-do-wells who would take advantage of a lone woman.
Just then, Hadrian beckoned to her. “Lord Wymark wishes to say something to you and Leo.”
Judging by the sulkiness on the younger man’s face, she very much doubted that he wanted to speak to her at all. He turned and gave her a stiff bow. “I beg pardon for endangering you and the boy. It was not intentional.”
“Apology accepted. I know how difficult it can be to control a spirited horse.”
If anything, her response seemed to anger him, his frown deepening, and Natalie realized she oughtn’t have added a comment that a proud young lord would interpret as a veiled jab at his riding skills.
The duke, however, appeared satisfied. “Come,” he said, taking hold of her arm. “I’ll escort you and Leo back to the house.”
As they turned away, she had one last glimpse of Wymark’s resentful features. He seemed to begrudge their very presence here at Oak Knoll. Of course, the family suspected her of being an imposter, attempting to pass off her own son as Audrey’s. Nevertheless, Wymark ought to show at least some warmth toward Leo, who might be his nephew.
Perhaps, like his parents, he simply disdained the boy for being sired by a commoner and raised in the wilds of America.
Whatever the cause, his antipathy left Natalie deeply troubled. Wymark was a reckles
s young lord who had endangered a child—and he didn’t even seem to care. It was yet one more reason for her to feel reluctant to leave Leo with his only blood kin.
Chapter 10
“I’m gonna be a cavalryman when I grow up,” Leo announced.
Having departed the stable yard, they were strolling along the gravel path that led back to the house. Natalie could see that the duke appeared to be in a more relaxed humor now that he had dealt with his cousin.
“A cavalryman?” Hadrian said in mock surprise. “What about your ambition to become a sea captain?”
“I’d rather ride my horse into battle. Then I can kill the frogs with my sword. Take that, you Frenchie! Argh.” The boy pantomimed stabbing the air, then crumpled dramatically like a fallen enemy onto the grass alongside the path.
A gleam in his eyes, the duke halted to gaze down at him. “Well, brat, at least you finally have your adversaries properly straightened out.”
Leo sprang back to life and sat up, his face furrowed. “What’s ad-ver-saries?”
“Your enemies. They are no longer the British, I see.”
The boy thought about that for a moment, then shrugged and skipped ahead of them, the embodiment of childish unconcern for adult matters.
“You may thank Susan, the nursery maid, for his transformation,” Natalie explained as they resumed walking. “She’s been entertaining him with hair-raising tales about Britain’s war with the French.”
Natalie had overheard them talking while the maid gave him his bath the previous evening, and then again this morning after delivering their breakfast. In a matter of only a few days, Leo was setting aside the land of his birth and altering his loyalties to align with his new home here in England. She felt a twinge of sorrow at the thought.
Hadrian gave her a commiserating look that seemed to penetrate her very soul. Reaching out, he gently squeezed her hand. “It was bound to happen, you know. If Leo is to live here as the grandson of an earl, he’ll have to conform to our way of life.”
His enveloping touch warmed her blood, scattering her thoughts, so she pulled her fingers free. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
He seemed amused by her retreat, one corner of his mouth lifting. “Point taken. However, adaptation is for his own good. So is proper behavior. He oughtn’t have left the schoolroom without permission.”
“I’ve already spoken to him about that.”
“Perhaps it would help for him to hear it from someone else, too. Hey, brat. Come back here.”
As Leo trotted toward them, pretending to hold the reins of an invisible horse, the duke guided Natalie to an oak tree beside the path. He waved her toward a stone bench that overlooked the house and the vast sweep of lawn. “Shall we sit for a moment?”
She hesitated, glancing at his shoulder, where blood had seeped through the makeshift bandage of her handkerchief. “What about your wound? Doesn’t it need tending?”
“It’s nothing. A few more minutes won’t matter.”
When she sank down, he settled beside her. Thankfully, the bench was long enough to allow a circumspect few inches between them. She oughtn’t be tarrying in his company, not after that sizzling encounter in the stable yard. His mere presence stirred a flight of butterflies inside her rib cage.
But the early spring afternoon was too lovely to be cooped up in the nursery just yet. A flock of sparrows soared against the blue of the sky, and the gentle breeze carried the scent of freshly turned loam. The tree had not yet leafed out, so there was enough sunshine through the spreading branches to keep her from being chilled.
Leo stopped in front of them and gave Hadrian a cautious look. “Was I running too fast, Mr. Duke? I didn’t mean to!”
Hadrian leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his face level with Leo’s. “No, it’s your sneaking out of the nursery without permission that concerns me. You knew it was wrong.”
The boy’s chin dipped. “Yes, sir.”
“You caused Miss Fanshawe a great deal of worry today. A gentleman doesn’t behave that way.”
“But I’m not a gentleman. I’m just a half-pint. That’s what Papa used to call me.”
Natalie’s heart squeezed. She’d feared that at his young age, his parents might fade completely from his mind. Many months had passed since their deaths. But ever since the portrait of Audrey had been hung in his bedchamber, Leo had mentioned them a few times. He no longer seemed as distraught by the memories as he’d been in the weeks after the attack.
“Even half-pint gentlemen need to follow the rules,” Hadrian stated. “Henceforth, you must listen to Miss Fanshawe and do exactly as she instructs. Is that understood?”
His head bobbed up and down. “Yes, sir, Mr. Duke.”
Affording him a shrewd look, Hadrian added, “There’s another very good reason for you to mind your manners. If you show me that you can behave, I’ll buy you a pony.”
“What?” Natalie sputtered. Just like that, all of her good will toward the man vanished like smoke in the wind. “You can’t—”
“A pony? A real pony?” Leo’s excited voice drowned her out. His face lit up, his eyes big against his dirt-streaked face. “Can I—may I learn how to ride him, please?”
“Of course. Riding is an essential part of every young gentleman’s education.”
“Yippee! I’ll be the bestest gentleman ever!”
“Excellent. Now go and play. But stay where we can see you.”
In a burst of boyish exuberance, Leo cantered off across the lawn.
The instant he was out of earshot, Natalie rounded on Hadrian, her fists clenched in her lap. He was smiling indulgently, clearly pleased with his promise of a costly gift and unaware that he’d undermined her efforts to raise Leo according to the values of his parents. “You bribed him! That isn’t the way to teach a child. He must learn that proper conduct is its own reward.”
“Nonsense. He’s of an age when he ought to be learning to ride. I merely used the pony as an incentive.”
“A far too lavish incentive! I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to buy him a lemon drop in the village. Or give him a pat on the head and a kind word. But not this.” All of her fears for the boy’s future rose to the fore. “I won’t have Leo spoiled as you were, growing up in the lap of luxury, with your every wish indulged. It will ruin his character!”
All trace of pleasure vanished, leaving his features hard, his lips thinned. “Is that what you think of me? I’ve given you no cause to question the merits of my character.”
Aware she’d gone too far, Natalie said stiffly, “I didn’t mean to impugn your honor. But as a duke, surely you must have been raised with all manner of affluence and extravagance.”
“My childhood wasn’t like that at all.”
“Oh? I suppose a duke played with sticks and leaves as Leo did in America. Or with a handful of wooden animals carved by one of the settlers. No, you had that vast army of tin soldiers up in the nursery, along with a host of other expensive toys. And a pony, no doubt.”
Hadrian clenched his jaw, his brow furrowed, as if he were wrestling with an inner demon. “If you must know, those soldiers belonged to Richard—Lord Wymark. So did most of the other things in the cupboards. When I was Leo’s age, Godwin was a skinflint who didn’t approve of an excess of toys. He seized most of the ones given to me by my mother. It was only when he married the second time that he relented and indulged their two children—Richard and Ellen. But by that time, I was already living most of the year at boarding school.” Hadrian’s piercing gaze bored into her. “When I came here at the age of five, I had to make do with very little. So did Audrey. Perhaps that’s why she was able to adapt so well to living on your American frontier. Being the same age, we were raised together, and I doubt you’d have called her spoiled.”
His tirade left her somewhat chastened. His posture was rigid, as if she’d struck a nerve. Maybe his childhood hadn’t been quite the bed of roses that she’d presumed. He had, after all, ma
de a good point about Audrey, who had never behaved as one born to privilege.
As her anger ebbed, Natalie found herself curious about Hadrian. It seemed there was more to him than initially met the eye. “Forgive me, I oughtn’t have made assumptions. But … if your mother was alive, why did you have to come here to Oak Knoll? Why couldn’t you have remained with her?”
“Godwin was my legal guardian. My father naturally made provisions for his successor to be raised by someone who could be trusted to oversee my education and my inheritance.”
“Couldn’t the earl have done that without separating you from your mother? It seems unnecessarily harsh for you to lose both parents when one was still capable of seeing to your care.”
His mouth twisted ironically. “You don’t know my mother.”
“Then tell me about her, please. Was she unfit in some way? Negligent, perhaps? Uncaring?”
“None of that—she’s very devoted to me, in fact.” He gazed into the distance for a moment as if struggling to find the right description. “The duchess is … frivolous, blithe, sentimental, someone who can fuss over a maid with a sore tooth or weep copiously at the death of a fictional character in one of the novels she likes to read. She’s impulsive and extravagant, too, without the slightest notion of the value of money. As a child, I used to visit her for a week twice a year, and she would buy everything in the toy shop that caught my fancy.”
“And she sent those things back here with you, only to have Lord Godwin take them all away?”
Hadrian conceded that with a nod. “I was allowed to keep only one item, and the rest was donated to charity. Now, don’t look so aghast, it built character and kept me from becoming too spoiled.”
Natalie smiled rather abashedly to hear her own accusation mocked. For Leo’s sake, it was a relief to learn that not all upper-class children were overindulged. She glanced up at the castlelike house, picking out the nursery windows at the top floor and imagining Hadrian arriving here as a grief-stricken little boy who had been denied even the comfort of his mother. “How did your father die?”
