Wild Passions of a Mischievous Duchess

by Violet Hamers

  She hesitated, chewing her bottom lip. Then, he seemed to sense her gaze on him and looked up. For a flash of a moment, she saw the shape of his eyes, large and emotive just like his sister’s. She dropped the curtain, gasping as a jolt rushed through her blood.

  The moment of eye contact was over almost before it had begun, but it so rattled her that she forgot all about the paints. Deciding suddenly to pretend as though she had not seen the Duke arrive, she scurried out of the room and back to the gardens.

  The rest of the day, Elizabeth had felt unsettled. The excitement of the birth and her jangled nerves at the sight of the enigmatic Duke together made it impossible for her to sit still. Even the young lord seemed to notice her agitation.

  Now, as she knitted quietly in the firelight, she felt as though she could sense the presence of the two newcomers in the house. Even far below in the servants’ quarters, the arrivals brought a new energy that enlivened the normally dreary space.

  She went to bed that night with her mind swirling.

  * * *

  The next morning, Elizabeth was startled to find herself taking extra care with her appearance.

  Hoping to impress a Duke?

  She asked herself sarcastically as she put down her brush. Her reflection in the dark glass stared unmercifully back at her. She had always known she was plain. With her cool grey eyes, dark hair, and stern mouth, she was born to be a governess. She twisted the strands of her hair into plaits and coiled them at the nape of her neck, just as she did every day. Her pale cheeks had never known a touch of rouge, and she’d never really wanted for it, but now as she regarded herself, she found herself wishing, for perhaps the first time, that she was beautiful.

  Why? What good would beauty do you? She chided her reflection.

  Calming herself with a slow breath, she greeted the morning in her usual quiet manner. Lord Limingrose, at breakfast, was giddy with excitement.

  “Have you seen her?” he asked Elizabeth, as he shoveled eggs into his mouth.

  “I have not. Now, you must remember that your mother is very tired and quite sore. You must not jump up on her bed. And be careful around Anne as well, she’s very little and delicate.”

  “I know, I know,” The lad said around a mouthful of half-chewed breakfast.

  “Don’t speak with your mouth full.”

  He swallowed theatrically. “My uncle has arrived as well. Did you know? Father told me last night.”

  “Yes, I had heard that the Duke of Hadminster had arrived. Are you excited to see him as well?”

  This time, he didn’t deny excitement to see his uncle. He didn’t affirm it either, however. The boy merely shrugged. “Perhaps the baby will put him in a good mood. Everyone is in a good mood today, aren’t they?”

  “Yes, they are,” Elizabeth smiled. “Now, if you finish quickly and get dressed, we can go up to meet your sister right away.”

  Elizabeth’s heartbeat was slightly elevated as, with Thomas’ hand in hers, they mounted the grand marble stairs to the upper rooms where the Duchess and the new baby were convalescing. The house was quiet as a church, and a sense of holiness surrounded the room at the end of the hall. As they approached the door, the Duke of Stonehill appeared at the top of the stairs and seeing his son, he grinned.

  “Ready to meet your baby sister?” the Duke asked.

  The boy nodded, though he suddenly looked a little bit nervous.

  The Duke glanced at Elizabeth. “Thank you, Miss Peaton.”

  Thus dismissed, Elizabeth retreated from the domestic scene in which she had no place.

  * * *

  “Is that you, Thomas?” The Duchess called quietly. “Come in.”

  Jonathan pushed the door open with a warning glance to Thomas, pressing his finger to his lips in a gesture to remind him to be quiet.

  Thomas entered the room with his hands folded in front of him as though he were in church. His mother was sitting up in bed, smiling sleepily as she cradled the newborn against her breast.

  “Come here, my darling. Come and meet Anne,” she said quietly, extending an arm to her son.

  “Does she look like me?” Thomas whispered.

  The Duchess chuckled quietly. “Yes, quite. You were this little, too. Can you believe it?”

  “May I hold her?” he asked.

  His mother shook her head. “Not yet. When she is a little bigger you may. Jonathan?” Her eyes sought out her husband, summoning him to her side.

  “Would you take her for a moment? I can’t bear to put her down, but my back is aching.”

  “Oh. Yes, of course,” Jonathan said automatically, although his heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. Holding such a delicate newborn always frightened him slightly. He approached the bed and hid his uncertainty as the bundle was placed lovingly into his arms.

  “She slept like an angel all night. The nurse only took her for a few moments here and there,” Bridget said, stretching her pale arms above her head and elongating her back before plumping the pillows behind her. “I’m eager to get out of bed already, though they say it’s out of the question.”

  Anne, who had been roused by the transfer from her mother’s arms, looked up at Jonathan with those mystic gray eyes, and suddenly he felt a lump forming in his throat.

  “I’m sure rest is what you need,” he responded to his wife, though he was unable to tear his eyes away from the tiny, fragile miracle in his arms.

  “Oh, but I feel so alive. My baby is finally here, after all these months of waiting. And my brother, too. I think it is impossible for me to be any happier than I am at this very moment,” Bridget said, wrapping her older child in a squeeze as she buried her nose in his hair.

  “Mama, you’re squishing me,” Thomas protested against her breast.

  “Tell me,” she continued, releasing her son from her embrace. “Is the sun out today?”

  “Oh, yes,” Jonathan said, grinning at her. “Let me open the curtains for you.”

  He handed the babe back to her mother and crossed to the enormous window that took up most of the eastern-facing wall and pushed the curtains aside. The sunlight rushed into the room, illuminating the scene in a golden glow.

  For a few minutes, Thomas was snuggled against his mother's side, leaning on her shoulder as they both cooed over Anne. But, in time, the nurse arrived and the baby girl was taken away to be fed.

  “Now, be a good boy and pay attention at your lessons today, Thomas. Mama needs to rest.” Bridget said, yawning.

  Jonathan ushered Thomas away, seeing the exhaustion in his wife’s face.

  “Your mother is very sleepy, Thomas. Be a good boy and get your lessons done and you can see her and the baby again this afternoon.”

  Thomas was reluctant to leave, but he did as his father commanded.

  * * *

  When Lord Limingrose was returned to her, it was even harder than usual to get him to focus on his lessons, but Elizabeth couldn’t exactly fault him, since she herself was feeling rather scattered.

  It was lovely to see the young Lord so flushed with happiness at getting to meet his baby sister. Having a new baby in the manor was certainly a blessing, indeed.

  But, even beyond the mental distraction of the new baby, Elizabeth found her thoughts often returning to the gentleman in the hat. She wished she had gotten a better look at him. Those few moments of seeing him standing in the sunlight, his navy blue jacket in sharp contrast to the white marble of the stairs, were crystallized in her memory.

  She chided herself for being so empty-headed that the mere sight of a good looking gentleman could disrupt her entire day.

  And yet, no matter how many times she shook the thought of him from her mind, the pleasant glow of his unseen presence in the manor brought a certain lightness to her step. If she was so starved for pleasant things to think about that an impossible and ill-conceived attraction to an enigmatic Duke could make her feel so alive, then so be it. There was no harm in it.

  And anyway,
all the other women in the house seemed to feel the same way.

  “Have you seen the Duke yet?” one of the younger maids asked Elizabeth that night.

  Elizabeth shook her head. The young maid’s eyes were glittering with excitement.

  “I have! He came into one of the parlors as I was dusting. He’s magnificent. Absolutely magnificent. Oh, you should have seen his legs.”

  “His legs?” Elizabeth laughed, nearly sputtering her stew.

  “Aye! You can see just by looking at him that he keeps his body shipshape.”

  Elizabeth flushed, shaking her head slightly. Perhaps this attraction to the Duke was more immature and harmful than she thought, if it could reduce her to this sort of sordid chatter.

  “Cold as the devil, though. You’d have thought that a new baby would bring a smile to anyone’s face, but not his. Though his face looks just fine without a smile, if I do say so myself,” the young housemaid continued. “I’d almost say his meanness makes him all the more attractive.”

  Elizabeth pressed her lips into a tight line.

  “How can meanness make someone attractive?” she asked.

  “Oh, you know,” the maid said coquettishly. “It sort of sends a shiver down your spine, doesn’t it? The look of a gentleman like that.”

  “No,” she said. “The only shiver down my spine is one of fear that you will end up getting yourself hurt, believing things like that. A fine face...or fine legs...can’t erase the ugliness of a poor temper.” Elizabeth spoke the words to the maid, but really, she knew that she was speaking to herself.

  The maid shrugged her slim shoulders dismissively. “I didn’t mean to make you so serious. It’s all in fun.”

  Elizabeth chuckled quietly, lifting her spoon to her lips and sipping the rich broth. “I know. It’s all right.”

  The exchange sat uncomfortably with her for the rest of the evening. Being confronted with her own internal folly in the form of an impressionable young maid had thrown into sharp relief the dangers of attraction. Elizabeth determined to forget the Duke, and even to avoid him if need be, until he left. Not because of any foolish or vain belief that he might have any interest in compromising her, but out of a desire to shield her own heart from forming treacherous desires.

  Chapter Five

  Gerard studied his reflection in the glass, and deciding that it was crooked, untied his cravat before having his valet try it again. He was stalling. He knew he was stalling and yet he couldn’t stop it, as childish as it was. Within the private confines of the room he called his own while he was staying at Stonehill, there was no need for him to put on a pleasant face. Here, he was free to look as uncomfortable as he felt.

  But once he stepped out that door to meet his sister and her family, he knew that he had to do his best to be pleasant and sociable.

  The silk cravat ran through his fingers with a faint swishing sound as he checked it again. It had been easy, upon his arrival, to be swept up in the excitement of the birth and forget his own discomfort at being in London again. But as the furor had died down, a quietness had settled upon the manor that left him no place to hide from the unpleasant memories.

  With a deep breath, he gave himself one last look in the glass, and finding no other excuse to stay in his bedroom a bit longer, he went down to meet the happy couple.

  His footsteps echoed down the corridor as he walked, but the sound was soon joined by another noise. Stopping in his tracks, he listened for a moment.

  “Why do I need to know the parts of a dandelion, anyway?” Came the complaining voice of his nephew from a further room.

  Gerard’s lips pulled in a half smile. He had met Thomas briefly at dinner after his arrival, but had not had a chance to really say hello. On his previous visits to Stonehill, Gerard knew had been unnecessarily cold towards the boy, and he wished to remedy that this time.

  As he approached the door from which the voice could be heard trying to wheedle his way out of an apparent botany lesson, Gerard noticed that he was oddly nervous. He hovered near the doorway, peering in silently.

  Sitting in front of a window, the child was leaning his elbow on the table and frowning at the paper before him. Sitting across from him was a young woman who dressed too old for her age. Gerard recognized her at once as the maid who had been looking down at him from the window when he had first arrived. Not a maid at all, it seemed, but his nephew’s governess.

  She looked too young to be a governess. The smoothness of her cheeks belied her matronly attire. Her expression was solemn, and Gerard wondered what kind of hell Thomas must give this serious young lady.

  “Familiarity with all the wild medicinal plants of the area is knowledge most useful for a self-sufficient young lord like yourself,” she coaxed. “Suppose one day you are stranded in the wilderness and must provide for yourself?”

  “You cannot fool me. I know it’s girlish to keep a garden diary.”

  The governess smiled and looked instantly younger. “This is not a garden diary. It’s a scientific portfolio. Come along now, I can understand you arguing over Latin or sums, but painting a picture of a dandelion is hardly torture.”

  Thomas sighed so theatrically that Gerard chuckled, inadvertently giving away his position. The young woman’s head jerked up, her eyes finding his instantaneously. There was a look of terror on her face that she quickly masked as the boy jumped up from his seat.

  “Uncle!” he said.

  “Good morning, Thomas. I see that you are troubling this young woman over your lessons,” he said as he strode into the room. Thomas did not approach him, but stood gripping the back of his chair with his spine straight, like a soldier at attention. Gerard had meant only to tease the boy, but he looked as though he had been truly scolded.

  “I’m sorry. I will work harder,” said Thomas, sitting down and right away beginning to trace the contours of the roots onto his page.

  “I...” Gerard glanced helplessly at the quiet governess.

  The woman seemed to understand his predicament. Her shrewd eyes travelled between himself and Thomas as she seemed to search for a way to gloss over this awkward miscommunication.

  “My Lord...um...perhaps your uncle would like to see what you are working on?” she offered.

  “Yes, please. I’m...yes, I’m very interested.” Gerard didn’t understand why he was fumbling so. His desire to be accepted by his nephew hadn’t seemed quite so dire until that very moment when the boy looked up at him with those untrusting eyes.

  “If you wish, Your Grace. Right now I’m doing watercolors, but I have to do the pencil first.” The boy leaned away from his page, revealing a crude but recognizable outline of the dandelion specimen.

  “Yes, I see. Very good.” Gerard replied glibly, kicking himself for his apparent inability to behave naturally in the presence of this child and his governess.

  The governess in question was not helping matters by the way she looked at him. Her dark eyes were narrowed slightly, as if he were a scientific specimen for study as well. Her gaze was not unkind, but it was unusually direct. He shifted slightly under the weight of her scrutiny, feeling oddly exposed. He felt that all of his intentions and anxieties about his relationship with his nephew were laid bare before this strange, quiet woman.

  “Lord Limingrose is a very bright student. He doesn’t always like to work hard, but when he applies himself he is surprisingly talented,” she said after a tense silence.

  “Ah, well what five-year-old truly likes to work hard?” Gerard said, feeling idiotic.

  “My Lord, perhaps you might show him some of your other drawings?” she said to her student, her expression softening. She seemed to have reached some unspoken conclusion about him. Gerard wondered what opinion she had landed on at last, but he didn’t dwell on it because he was simply relieved that she seemed to have decided to coax his friendship with his nephew along.

  Thomas was still suspicious of the attention, but nonetheless appreciative of a break from his work.
He got up and retrieved a portfolio from a bookcase on the other end of the room, bringing it back.

  “They’re not very good,” the boy qualified, as he handed the portfolio to his uncle.

  Gerard glanced at him, then at the governess, who was smiling warmly at her student. He began to flip through the drawings inside. They were childish, yes, but even with just this small selection, Gerard could already see a progression in the child’s technique and skill.