“And do those feelings lead to love, do you think?”
Anne gave her a sigh. “I believe they do. When David and I first met, there was that attraction many couples have—a physical attraction. We could not deny it. Then came the joy of seeing one another, the sharing of secrets and dreams. Yes, all these things may lead to love, but there are no guarantees.”
“Nothing in life is guaranteed,” Jane said as she thought about how she had found herself attracted to Michael when they first met, before she had seen his scarred face. However, she had told herself she could look past all that, and she realized today that it was true. She smiled as relief washed over her. Love? What a strange feeling it was. The poems never made it seem so strange.
“You make a very good point,” Anne said. “Life gives no guarantees, but we do what we must to be happy.”
Jane looked down at the brook and made a decision. “It is the Duke I speak of,” she said in a low voice. What she had expected was to see Anne smile or perhaps ask a mound of questions. However, what she did not expect was the laughter. “And what is so humorous?” she demanded.
The laughter stopped and Anne took on a seriousness that appeared peculiar on the woman’s face. “You mean…” she gaped at Jane, “the Duke of Fire?” Now she sounded astonished. “I thought you were making a joke! Jane, you cannot fall in love with that man!” She paused and took a quick glance around. “He’s a murderer!” she whispered, as if saying so aloud would summon the Duke at that moment.
“He is rumored to be but has never been outrightly accused. Plus, I suspect that he is not. I feel this in my heart, as much as my thoughts. He is much too kind and gentle to have taken the life of anyone, let alone the woman he loved.”
Anne tsked. “Jane, you are no longer the young naive girl you once were,” she admonished as she pushed herself up from the ground. “Do you not see what he is doing?”
“He has done nothing.”
“Ah, but he has. You said you feel something for him, did you not? Do you believe he returns your affections?”
“Perhaps,” Jane responded with honesty. “I do not claim to love him; you were the first to use that word. What I do feel is a special friendship for a man who is hurting.” Then it was her turn to look around, yet no one was there. “I am allowed to call him Michael. Surely that means something.”
Anne sighed. “Yes, you are still very naive, even after what you have been through. Do you not see that he is using your goodness to lure you to his bed?”
“No. I do not believe it,” Jane said, though she felt an uncertainty in her words. Could it be possible? Would he do such a thing? “He has made no attempt to touch me or press his lips to mine like the others have done. He is a kind man.”
“Kind or not, he is a Duke, and you are a governess. Dukes simply do not become romantically involved with their governesses unless their only plan is to bed them.” She placed a hand on Jane’s cheek. “Even if he was not a murderer and is as kind as you say, a Duke would never marry the likes of someone like you. It’s not possible.”
A tear burned down Jane’s cheek. “But today…the carriage ride. He talked of my words and how they helped ease his pain…” She felt no heat behind her words.
“Maybe they do help ease the guilt he feels. I don’t know. However, Jane, you cannot have feelings for this man. He will only use you for his own needs, and once he’s done with you, you will lose what little you have. But more importantly, he’ll crush your heart. Let it go now before it’s too late.”
Jane stared off at the creeping brook and knew that her cousin spoke the truth. No man in his position would consider a governess for his wife. For his table, maybe. For his bed, definitely. But for his bride, never. The world simply did not work that way.
“I’m sorry to be so blunt,” Anne said as she pulled Jane in for a hug.
“No, you are only telling me what I need to hear. I apologize if I became angry with you.”
“There is no need to apologize,” Anne said, releasing Jane from the embrace. “Do not be overly upset, for the right man will come along. One day you will look back and be happy that you did not waste your time—or your reputation—with the Duke of Fire. One day, the right man will come into your life, just you wait and see.”
Jane nodded, although she struggled believing it as truth. What she feared at the moment, however, was that the right man had already come into her life and his title would always keep them apart, whether he wished to be with her or not.
Chapter Eleven
Samuel sat hunched over his desk, or rather a small table that acted as a desk—he had insisted on a piece of furniture to complete his work like his father—as he worked the set of sums Jane had assigned him. The end of his tongue flicked out as he worked, which Jane found endearing. However, Jane was not as focused on the work the boy was meant to complete but rather on Michael, just as she had every day since returning from her cousin’s house over a week prior.
Something had changed in Michael while she had visited Anne, for when she returned, she had expected to find the same kind man who had deposited her at the house of her cousin, for that man had laughed and smiled. Instead, the man who had taken his place upon her return was sullen and forlorn.
Jane found she missed Michael’s warming aura but she knew not how to approach him about this strange and sudden change. Although the avenue of communication had opened between them, and the Duke had said that she could speak freely, Anne’s warning plagued her. Therefore, rather than confront him on his recent behavior, she remained silent. Although she saw him regularly, somehow they had returned to being strangers once again.
Not only had Michael’s demeanor changed toward her, but he also no longer came by to check on the progress Samuel was making. No further invitations to dinner or to walk together in the garden were forthcoming. Jane wondered if she had somehow displeased the man. Perhaps her visit with her cousin had allowed him time to reconsider where she stood in the household, for there was no other explanation that came to mind. It was not that she wished to be higher than her station—she was no opportunist—however, she had enjoyed their interactions, whether they were short and to the point or long and meaningful, such as the day of their outing.
What surprised Jane the most was the loss she felt. Granted, they had only begun acquainting themselves with one another, but that day they had gone on their outing had been very special to her and she had thought Michael had felt the same. Their friendship, if one could call it that, had brought a warmness to her heart, and now it was gone.
“Miss Harcourt?”
Startled, Jane drew in a breath, her heart thumping. She turned to Samuel and smiled, hoping the boy had not noticed too much her distractedness.
“I am sorry, Samuel,” she said, glad her voice told nothing of her momentary distress. “What is it?”
“I said that I’ve finished my sums.” He picked up the paper on which he had been working, the ink smudged in several places as well as numbers that had been corrected with a large X over the original sum.
“Well done, Samuel,” she said, glad to see that he had completed the work satisfactorily. “Your penmanship has improved exponentially since I first arrived. Tell me, how is it you do such a fine job at all of your studies?”
This seemed to tickle the boy, for he gave her a proud grin. “It can only be that I have a great teacher, that’s why.”
“That is very kind of you to say,” Jane replied with a smile, “but I believe it is because you have applied yourself more since I have arrived. Never forget that you can become better at anything you wish—if you apply yourself. The more you practice at a task, the better you become.”
“Yes, Miss Harcourt.”
Jane rose from the chair and walked over to the window. Without turning, she said, “If you put away your things, we may go outside for a while. Would you like that?”
“Oh, yes, please!” Samuel said and Jane heard papers rustling behind her.
She could not help but suppress a grin.
When she turned, however, she covered her mouth to hide her gasp, for in the doorway stood the Duke. He wore no smile, and Jane wondered if he was angry.
“Miss Harcourt, a word, please,” he said, his voice returned to the formal tone he had used when she had first arrived. She was glad he had spoken her name first, for now she knew the invitation to use his Christian name was more than likely not acceptable.
Jane walked over and stopped to stand in front of him, and for the first time she saw the dark circles and redness of his eyes. “I am not feeling well and will retire to my room. Will you dine with Samuel this evening? I am afraid I am much too tired to do so myself, and I do not wish for him to eat alone.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” she said with a light curtsy.
“Thank you,” he replied. “If any need arises, please send word with Duncan.”
Jane nodded. She doubted relying on the valet would be of much help if something terrible happened—he did very little even for a man of his high position—but at least the man could carry messages.
After Michael had gone, Jane turned to find Samuel standing behind her, a worried look on his face. “Is Father not well?” he asked.
Jane brought herself down so she could face him. “He is just fine,” she said. “He only wishes to lie down and rest for a bit. However, I do have some wonderful news.”
Samuel’s eyes widened. “You do?”
“Yes. I will be your guest for dinner this evening.”
He appeared very pleased by this and said, “Will you wear the blue dress again? Please?”
This made Jane laugh. “I suppose I can,” she replied. “Do you like it?”
The boy shrugged. “I think it’s pretty, and…well, Father said you look beautiful in it.”
Jane’s breath caught in her throat. She doubted very highly that the man had said such a thing. However, if he did not say it, then what had compelled the boy to say he had?
“Sometimes Father talks aloud when he thinks no one hears,” Samuel said as if reading her mind. “I heard him say it after you had dinner with us.”
Jane rose and tapped Samuel on the tip of his nose. “That was kind of him to say so,” she said. “However, you do realize that sharing what someone says of another person when that someone had no intention of telling said person is a form of gossip?”
Samuel gasped. “I didn’t know,” he said, clearly finding the idea unsettling.
“Well, now that you know, you must remember that such idle talk is something we should not do, for it is the root of most rumors, and few enjoy rumors, especially when they are about themselves. Now, we should be on our way if we are to have time outside before we ready ourselves for dinner.”
As she followed the boy down the hallway, Jane could not help but smile thinking of the Duke and that he found her beautiful in her blue dress.
***
Samuel and Jane had enjoyed their dinner together making polite conversation throughout the entire meal. Samuel seemed delighted to play the host, but he had refused to take his father’s place at the table, insisting that “only my father has a right to that chair. That is, until I become Duke”. Jane was glad he was still too young to realize that the only way he could assume his father’s place was when his father died.
Now, Jane sat in her usual place on the edge of his bed as she waited for him to close his eyes and fall asleep. She was unsure why this had become a regular occurrence, but she found she took pleasure in their bedtime routine of reading together several pages from their current story, followed by Jane pulling the blankets up to Samuel’s chin. Then she would sit with him until his breathing became even. Perhaps she indulged him all too much in this, but she would not have it any other way.
When she had been in the employ of Lord Clarkson, Lady Clarkson had insisted that staying with Arthur was simply a way to mollycoddle the boy and had forbidden Jane from entering his room once he had been put to bed. Unfortunately, this meant that if the poor boy woke from a nightmare, he was well aware that no one would come to his side to comfort him regardless of how afraid he became. Arthur, being the clever boy he was, however, had found a way around this rule: if he found himself troubled by bad dreams, rather than cry out and await the arrival of someone who could console him, he instead ran to Jane’s room. Jane never told the boy’s parents for by him going to her room, she was not disobeying the Countess’s rule. Not once did she return to Arthur’s room once he went to bed.
This night, Samuel lay heavy-lidded as he stared up at the canopy above his bed. His face was scrunched tight, as if he were deep in thought.
“Of what are you thinking?” Jane asked as she placed a hand on the blanket that covered his chest.
He shifted his gaze to her, his face remaining pensive. “Is my father your friend, Miss Harcourt?” he asked in the innocent manner of children.
She raised her eyebrows at him and then looked toward the window. Rain tapped against the glass as broad streaks of lightning flashed in the sky. She collected her thoughts before responding, wishing to answer as carefully as possible. “Your father is my employer, and I work for him. So, I would say that our relationship is one based on a business arrangement.”
He sighed as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “Do you not like him?”
“Why, yes, I like him. He is a very kind man and smart, just like you.”
He pursed his lips and tilted his head at her. “Well, I like you a lot.”
She stifled a giggle. “I appreciate that,” she replied. “And I like you a lot, too.”
“I wish you were my mother.”
Jane thought her heart had dropped to her feet as tears welled up in her eyes. “That is a very kind thing to say and it makes me happy. Thank you.”
“Then you’ll become my mother?” he asked hopefully.
She brushed back his hair as she fought back the tears. The boy did need a mother in his life, though sadly, it would never be her. “It is not my choice to make. One day your father will meet a woman and they will fall in love and marry. Then she will become your mother and love you as much as your father does.”
Samuel went quiet for a moment. “Is it my reading?” he asked. “I can work harder on improving it. Then you will be happy to be my mother.”
Jane could no longer hold back the tears and she brushed them aside as she leaned over to kiss his forehead. “You must understand that it is not because I do not think you worthy to be my son, nor have you done anything to upset me. You see…” she wondered how to explain the concept of love between the sexes when she, as an adult, struggled at times, “a man and a woman fall in love and then get married. Your father, though a very kind man, is not in love with me. Do you understand?”
He sighed. “I think so.” He took on an auspicious look. “But maybe one day he will be.”
Jane stood and gazed down at the boy. “One day he will meet a woman and fall in love again, but for now, you must focus on your studies…and getting to sleep.”
“All right, Miss Harcourt, I will.”
She picked up the candle from the bedside table and smiled down at him. “Good night, Samuel.”
Before she got to the door, he said, “Miss Harcourt?”
She stopped and turned around. “Yes, Samuel?”
“Father loves you, you know. Why else would he say you look beautiful in your dress?”
Jane gave him a smile and shook her head. “Good night, Samuel,” she said before closing the door behind her.
When she arrived at her room, she changed into her nightdress and walked over to the window. She found the patter of the rain calming as she thought on Samuel’s words. Why, indeed, did his father say he thought her beautiful in her dress? If he had said such words. Yet, he had commented on her eyes and how she brought light into his life. Men such as he did not speak such words lightly.
Anne had said that men in the Duke’s position oftentimes found
ways to lure women to their bed; however, Jane found herself doubting those words. The man held many secrets, and although Jane wished he would share them with her, she feared he never would. Or perhaps she feared what those secrets could be. But no, she still did not believe him capable of killing his wife, so any secret he was willing to share she would accept and then somehow help the man heal.
Slipping beneath the covers, Jane put out the candle and closed her eyes. She cared for Samuel, and his words about needing a mother pulled at her heart. However, the boy was young and did not understand the intricate web love wove. And although the thought of being wed to the Duke made her smile, she knew dreaming about such notions was foolish and a waste of time. She had a commitment to instructing Samuel; anything beyond that was beyond her control.
Chapter Twelve
Jane found herself in a field of rich green unlike any she had ever seen before. A light breeze caused her hair to flow behind her and her skirts to rustle. Beside her stood the Duke of Fire, his hand firmly gripping hers as if he meant to never let it go. No one knew the kind and gentle heart this great man had, nor would anyone be able to know the bond he shared with her. It was beautiful and, one would say, magical. Yes, that was what brought these two together—magic, a power and a feeling that could not be described in any other way.
“Miss Harcourt,” Samuel said as he ran up to them, his happy smile lighting up his face as it always did when they took these excursions.
Jane laughed. She was his mother now, and she found it amusing that he would still refer to her by her old title.
His hands came to her shoulders and he gently shook her.
“Miss Harcourt.”
Jane opened her eyes and found her heart racing as Samuel gently nudged her again. Although there was no candlelight, she did not need it to hear the fear in his voice.
“Miss Harcourt, Father is in trouble,” he said, a frantic ring to in his tone.
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