Forever My Duke--Unlikely Duchesses

by Olivia Drake

  “A fall from his horse during hunting season. To be honest, I scarcely remember him. There’s just the impression of a tall man who would pick me up and swing me in the air to make me laugh. Other than that … nothing.”

  “Your poor mother, to lose both her husband and her son all at once. It still seems cruel to me that you were removed from her care.”

  “For company, she had my younger sister, Elizabeth, who was given everything she desired and consequently picked up all of our mother’s habits of impetuosity and overindulgence. But one cannot dislike Lizzy for her faults since she also inherited Mama’s generous heart. And my sister has wisely married an extremely wealthy marquess, though she may yet beggar Wrenbury before all is said and done.”

  In his half-smile, Natalie detected a genuine fondness for his mother and his sister. It touched her heart, and she felt a slight crumbling in the wall she’d erected against him. “Do you see them often?”

  “Enough to make up for the years apart.” Hadrian gave her a sardonic grin. “I devote a fair amount of time to scolding them about their spending. I haven’t given up yet on reforming them.”

  “And here I believed all aristocrats to be useless wastrels.”

  “I’m neither miser nor saint. Yet I might very well have squandered my fortune as a gambler and profligate had I remained in my mother’s keeping.”

  Natalie braced her palm against the cold stone of the bench in between them. “Regardless, I still think it’s wrong to separate a child from his mother.”

  He glanced away, his gaze pensive. Then he looked back at her and shrugged. “The past is done. Growing up at Oak Knoll, I learned moderation and discipline. As a boy, I thought Godwin too strict, but now I can appreciate his tutelage, for he taught me to be a shrewd investor and a prosperous landowner.” Hadrian smiled mischievously, his gray eyes showing a hint of blue in the brightness of the sun. “So, Natalie, have I redeemed myself in your critical estimation?”

  His smile charmed her with all the power of a wizard’s enchantment. He was only being affable, so why did she feel like a moonstruck girl?

  Matching his light tone, she said, “I stand corrected, of course. You were not precisely spoiled as a child. Only unfairly elevated to a privileged stature by an accident of birth.”

  His chuckle held a note of irony. “My rank is an immutable part of who I am. It’s not something I would change, even if I could. So if you wish to start a revolution here in England, that will make us enemies, and I would far rather count you as a friend.”

  Friend. Could she truly be the duke’s friend when she felt assailed by this relentless tug of attraction to him? When she felt a pang of regret that they were from two utterly different worlds? For the sake of her sanity, Natalie reminded herself that their relationship was merely temporary. It would last only until she could secure Leo’s future and feel confident that he had at least one strong ally before she returned to the United States.

  An ally who would help keep the boy on the right path.

  “Then as a friend,” she said, “I have to question why you would indulge Leo with an extravagant gift—a pony that he doesn’t deserve for being naughty. It makes me wonder if you see yourself in him. And if you’re instinctively trying to compensate for things you were denied as a boy.”

  Hadrian appeared startled by the observation. He swung his gaze toward Leo, who was kneeling on the ground outside the garden wall, using a stick to poke at something in the dirt.

  “Don’t be absurd!” he growled before tempering his tone. “Well … at least I hadn’t intended it that way. Do you really think that could be true?”

  “It’s a possibility. Did you have a pony?”

  “My mother once bought me one, a fine chocolate-brown fellow just my size. His name was Mud.”

  Her heart melting, she pictured him as a little boy. The gift must have meant a lot to him since he still remembered it so clearly. “Mud?”

  “I was only six. The pony was my favorite gift, and Mama took me to the park in London so that a groom could teach me to ride him. But Godwin sold Mud. He said that ponies gobbled far too much grain and I could learn to ride on one of the stable hacks … but I suppose that proves your point.”

  He cast an annoyed look at her, but she merely lifted her eyebrows, deciding it was best for a man of such lofty pride to draw his own conclusions.

  “Well, blast,” he said with feeling. “The brat needs a pony no matter what convoluted motives you may ascribe to me.”

  “What if Godwin sells that pony, too?”

  “He won’t dare, by God. I’ll make certain of that. And pray recall that Audrey was like a sister to me. If Leo is her child, I ought to be allowed to behave like an uncle to him.”

  Natalie stiffened. “If? You told me that you believe he is her son. Or are you saying that you still have reservations about Leo just as the earl does?”

  Surprise flashed across Hadrian’s face. He pivoted on the stone bench and leaned toward her, his brow drawn in a frown. “Of course not. When I said if Leo is her child, it was nothing more than a manner of speaking, and poor wording on my part. I apologize.”

  Natalie gazed steadily back at him. His earnest expression made her want to believe him. But she had to be certain for Leo’s sake. “In the tower room the other day, you asked Leo if he recognized who was in that painting of Audrey. You seemed to be testing him.”

  “Only because I’d promised Godwin that I would look into the matter, that’s all. I myself was already convinced.” He reached for her hand, gently squeezing her fingers as if to convey his sincerity. “You’re a woman of good sense and intelligence, Natalie. So tell me, would I buy the boy a pony if I truly thought you to be an imposter?”

  Her pulse leaped at his warm touch, and she felt the tug of that peculiar connection with him, as if they were one mind and heart. It was illogical, considering they’d only met a few days ago and had so little in common. Yet the feeling persisted nonetheless, enhancing the pleasurable sensation of his strong hand around hers.

  She scrabbled for the thread of their conversation. “I concede your point. However, we haven’t yet agreed that you’re buying Leo a pony.”

  “Then I must devote myself to the task of convincing you.”

  Bringing her hand to his lips, he brushed a soft kiss over the backs of her fingers. His gaze glimmered at her as if he were issuing a challenge that he fully expected to win. Her lips curved in response to his roguish air and she felt an irresistible longing sweep though her body. Just how did he intend to persuade her? And why did she feel so eager to find out?

  Attraction sparked between them, as bright and intense as the sun. It melted her innermost depths and she glimpsed heat in the slight lowering of his dark lashes as he stared at her. That look held ardor and temptation and the promise of pleasure.

  Then, just like that, his warm expression altered subtly. A cool mask came over his masculine features, a shuttering of the candor in his eyes, a restraint of his playful smile. It was as if he’d remembered that she was merely a commoner, the temporary governess of his cousin’s son. Natalie needed that reminder, too. She must never forget that Hadrian was the Duke of Clayton, a powerful nobleman who clearly had a talent for charming women.

  He rose from the stone bench, drawing her to her feet before releasing her hand. “I’ve kept you long enough. We’ll talk about this another time.”

  With a nod, Natalie matched his neutral tone. “Tell Chumley to wash your shoulder with soap before he bandages it. Audrey was a firm believer that cleanliness helps to keep a wound from festering.”

  “Sound advice. Shall we go?”

  They proceeded to the garden fence to collect Leo, who had acquired damp patches on his knees and a smear of mud on his face. He opened his grubby palm and excitedly showed them an earthworm, then had to be persuaded by Hadrian that the squirmy creature belonged in the dirt and wouldn’t make a very good pet.

  Watching them, Natalie rememb
ered the close call with the stallion in the stable yard. Lord Wymark had only grudgingly apologized for his negligence. Between his careless manner and the unwelcoming coldness of his parents, Oak Knoll seemed a perilous place for a vulnerable little boy.

  She told herself the duke would protect Leo when she returned to America to open her school. Yet worry settled into her bones. How could she depend on Hadrian when he would soon go back to his life in London?

  * * *

  “Dear heaven!” Priscilla exclaimed from the window. “Archie, you must come and see this!”

  A few minutes ago, she had entered her husband’s study to discuss the preparations for their daughter’s debut. Priscilla was planning a spectacular ball that hopefully would also include an announcement of the girl’s betrothal to the Duke of Clayton. It was necessary to squeeze a generous budget out of her miserly husband. The earl was by nature the tightest of skinflints, begrudging every penny spent, even refusing her pleas for the family to travel to London early since he didn’t wish to incur a month’s extra expense in opening Godwin House for the season.

  He must be made to realize that procuring the exalted title of duchess for their daughter did not come cheaply.

  For that reason, she had brought him a snifter of his favorite brandy and wore the marine-blue silk that he’d always admired. She might no longer be the blushing bride that he’d married, but Priscilla had worked hard to maintain an elegant figure. Over the years, she’d learned a few tricks to coax him into prying open his locked purse.

  One of which was to take up a stance by the window so that the sunlight enhanced her full-breasted form. Like any man, he could be most easily manipulated when he was distracted by lustful thoughts. The trouble was, all of her scheming had flown away when she’d glanced outside and spied a sight shocking enough to chill the heart of any matchmaking mama.

  Pivoting, she saw the earl was still sipping brandy in his leather chair by the fire. “Godwin,” she snapped. “For pity’s sake, come here at once!”

  The earl grimaced—not a promising sign for sweet-talking him—but Priscilla feared there might be a bigger crisis in the making. She waited impatiently while he put down his glass and arose to join her at the window.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  He was ogling her bosom and she had to tug on his arm to get his attention. “Look outside! Clayton is with Miss Fanshawe. And they appear to be far too cozy!”

  Godwin cast a desultory glance out the window. “They’re merely walking toward the house.”

  “They were sitting very close together beneath the oak tree just a moment ago. Worse, the duke was kissing her hand and gazing into her eyes! If you’d come when I first called, you’d have seen it for yourself.”

  “You must be mistaken. Even if Clayton had an interest in her, he’s too much the gentleman to conduct an affair in full view of the house.”

  “An affair? That isn’t what I meant. What if that colonial upstart tries to steal him away from Ellen right under our noses?”

  “Bah, he’d never marry a woman so far beneath him. Miss Fanshawe is beautiful, I’ll grant you. She’s precisely the brazen sort that a man looks for in a mistress. Since Clayton dismissed his latest chère-amie some weeks ago, it’s likely he’s merely seeking to replace her.”

  Priscilla frowned as the duke and Miss Fanshawe collected the boy and then disappeared into the house. Despite her husband’s nonchalance, she felt a cold prickle. Noblemen did make mésalliances from time to time. Only look at the duke’s own mother.

  “We mustn’t underestimate Miss Fanshawe,” Priscilla insisted. “I’ve seen how she puts on airs. When I met her in the corridor earlier, one would have thought she was the lady of the manor. You don’t suppose…”

  “What?”

  The nagging thought took shape in her mind. “There’s something familiar about her dark hair and green eyes. And it just now struck me. You don’t suppose she’s related to those dreadful Lincolnshire Fanshawes, do you?”

  “Balderdash. She’s an American.”

  “Well, I believe she has designs on Clayton. Pray recall that she’s already trying to trick us about the boy.”

  He scowled. “We don’t know that for certain.”

  His continued refusal to denounce the child worried Priscilla. She had the sinking suspicion her husband believed it was not a hoax, that Leo truly was Audrey’s son. That must be why he was behaving even more tight-lipped than usual. He’d been deeply distraught over his daughter’s elopement all those years ago, and the sudden appearance of a possible grandchild had ripped open the old wound.

  It would have been better for everyone if Leo had never come here at all.

  Besides, Priscilla had brought a considerable dowry to her marriage many years ago, and she didn’t wish to see a penny of it go to a boy not of her blood. Nor did she intend for such a rich matrimonial prize as the Duke of Clayton to slip out of her fingers.

  She sidled closer and stroked her husband’s sleeve. “I’m only trying to help, darling. Pray keep in mind that Miss Fanshawe isn’t to be trusted. She may well be scheming to nab the duke as an alternate plan to placing her son in this house.”

  Godwin’s expression hardened in spite of her effort to charm him. “Enough with these useless speculations! Until my solicitor arrives, I will hear no more about this matter.”

  Turning, he marched to the table and picked up his glass, tossing back a drink. Priscilla glared at her husband. Men! At times they were too stubbornly blind to see what must be done. It would be up to her to find a way to discredit Miss Fanshawe.

  To force the woman to take that bothersome boy back to America where he belonged.

  Chapter 11

  “Do you enjoy poetry?” Hadrian asked Lady Ellen at dinner.

  Seated directly across the linen-draped table, she looked up, her blue eyes wide and startled. Gainsborough himself could not have painted a lovelier image of a young lady. In the softness of candlelight, Ellen had delicate features, rosy lips, and golden curls. A strand of seed pearls adorned her slender throat as was proper for a girl just out of the schoolroom.

  “Poetry?” She sounded wary, almost alarmed. “Only seldom, Your Grace.”

  She instantly lowered her gaze and resumed toying with her dessert, swirling the tines of her fork in the raspberry cream icing. She’d eaten very little of the cake, Hadrian observed, having seen her nibble only a few crumbs.

  That she could find her food more fascinating than him was a source of mild frustration. Over the course of the meal, he had attempted a number of conversational ploys, asking her about her interests, her friends, her plans for the upcoming season. But nothing he’d said had drawn her out of her shell for more than a minute or two.

  “You needn’t be shy, darling,” Lady Godwin said from the foot of the table. She, too, had been trying to coax the girl to little avail, and the smile she aimed at Hadrian seemed strained. “Ellen adores Shakespeare’s sonnets, Your Grace. I’m sure she has some favorites that she could quote to you.”

  Lady Ellen rolled her eyes. “That was when I was fifteen, Mama. I won’t have time for reading, anyway, once we go to London next week.”

  Wymark drained his wine goblet. “I daresay you might like Lord Byron’s verses, sis. He’s all the rage with the ladies. Not that I would read such silly drivel myself.”

  “Richard,” the countess said in a chiding tone, “that is most impolite when His Grace has expressed an interest in poetry.”

  Actually, Hadrian cared not a whit for such useless nonsense. He had only brought up the topic because Natalie had suggested he try his hand at writing a love poem to Lady Ellen. Thank God she seemed disinterested. He would have detested having to scribble clichéd cantos—words that had to rhyme, for pity’s sake—just to win her affections.

  “It’s quite all right,” he said. “Horses are a topic of greater interest to myself and Wymark. How is that new nag of yours, cousin? The one you purchased for a song
from Lord Ludington last week.”

  The younger man slid a glance at his father, who was signaling to the footman to take their plates. It was obvious Wymark would rather his sire not find out about the near-accident in the stable yard. Hadrian might have had sympathy if the stallion hadn’t almost trampled Leo and Natalie.

  “Thunder is no nag,” Wymark said defensively. “He comes from a line of winners. I’ll soon be able to collect high stud fees for him.”

  Godwin drilled him with a sharp stare. “You had better pray so,” he told his son. “That harebrained purchase wiped you out for this quarter and the next. Don’t come begging me for any advances, either.”

  “But I saved forty guineas off the going rate at Tattersall’s—”

  “You’d have saved a great deal more by not buying that wild beast at all. I’ve already received a complaint from Snodgrass. The animal tore across his newly planted fields and nearly flattened one of his tenant farmers.”

  “Baron Snodgrass?” Lady Ellen perked up. “Whom did he send over to deliver the note?”

  “That youngest whelp of his. Never can remember his name.”

  “Jasper,” the girl supplied brightly, then glanced around rather abashedly and lowered her gaze to her plate. “At least I believe that’s him.”

  Hadrian detected a spark of interest in her and wondered if he had a competitor for her hand. The possibility disturbed him less than he’d have expected.

  Before he could wonder why, Lady Godwin arose from the table. “Ellen, shall we leave the men to their port? We can wait in the drawing room.”

  Lady Ellen displayed an eagerness to depart the table. A vision in pale rose silk, she sprang up from the chair and trailed her mother out the doorway.

  Watching her depart, Hadrian thought it a pity she couldn’t be more like Natalie. Two women could hardly be more dissimilar in temperament. Where Ellen seemed to shy from meeting his eyes, Natalie had a saucy confidence and a readiness to voice her opinions. He’d had no trouble whatsoever conversing with her; in fact, he’d vastly enjoyed it. They might not always agree, but he appreciated Natalie for being open and forthright. That must be why, despite the obvious differences in their stations, he’d come to regard her as his equal.