The coach pulled up before the massive front entry where all the upper servants stood to receive him. Two liveried footmen rushed to attend them. When they stepped from the coach, Andrew, wishing his butler, Forrester, hadn’t seen fit to make a fuss, walked along the row. He greeted each of them recognizing only the housekeeper, the butler and some of the grooms. His father’s staff had slowly been replaced over the years.
He came to the end where his children stood waiting. He had not seen them for months and his heart lurched in his chest as William and Barbara were gently pushed forward by their governess, whom he was yet to meet. He’d forgotten the lady’s name.
“Father.” William bowed.
“You’ve grown like a sapling since I saw you last, William.” Andrew wanted to hug him, but shook his son’s proffered hand instead. “And who is this beautiful sprite?” Andrew fondly contemplated his daughter in her muslin dress, already a young miss, her blonde curls caught up with a blue ribbon. She was so like her mother that his heart ached at the sight of her.
“I am Barbara, have you forgotten?” She backed away and reached for the governess’ hand.
“Well, of course I haven’t. I was teasing. I have only one beautiful daughter,” he said wanting to kiss her but fearing it would be unwelcome. He raised his eyes to the silent governess. Tall and willowy, she seemed very young and rather too pretty for the post. Now what was her name?
The housekeeper, Mrs. Pollitt rushed to fill in the awkward pause. “This is Miss Harrismith, Your Grace.”
“Ah yes.” He nodded at the governess who could only be in her early twenties. His gaze took in her large gray eyes, firm mouth and chin, her curly dark brown hair arranged in a top knot. Not fashionably dressed, but her appearance was as neat as a pin, in a modest high-necked green dress, a cameo brooch adorning the bodice. “Miss Harrismith. I trust you find your new situation agreeable?”
She curtsied gracefully, perfectly composed and obviously at ease in society. “I do, thank you, Your Grace. But I should like to speak to you about the children.”
How efficient, Andrew thought. I am not yet through the door. “Very well. Please bring the children to me at two o’clock.”
A wave of his hand encompassed Greta and Ivo. “Shall we go in?”
“Your son is so like you,” Greta said as they entered the great hall.
“Do you think so?”
“But of course. The same black hair and blue eyes.”
“And has quite the ducal manner,” Ivo added with a chuckle.
“Good to see you, Forrester.” Andrew addressed his earnest butler and introduced his guests. After arranging to meet them later in the yellow salon for a glass of wine before they dined, he left Forrester to see to their needs.
Andrew entered his library, which ran the length of the south wing where latticed windows overlooked the formal gardens. Nothing had changed. Nothing ever did. Bookshelves filled with gleaming red and gold bindings lined the walls, his carved oak desk polished to a high shine, and his favorite chair. He’d felt suffocated by it all after Catherine died, but now as the years passed and the pain ebbed away there was comfort to be found in the familiar. He welcomed the memories too, both sad and glorious. After reflecting briefly on the past he was determined to face the future, and not alone. He wanted his life back, and now felt ready, and keen to embrace it. Seated on the maroon leather chair, he leaned back, eyes closed and thought of his children. He opened his eyes and frowned. He’d made Barbara nervous. She’d sought safety with the governess. And William. The boy had stood ramrod straight trying to make himself appear taller. It reminded him of himself around that age. But Andrew was practically a stranger to them. Foolish to expect them to feel a deep affection for him. He must earn their love.
He closed his eyes again and instead of seeing Greta’s beautiful visage, the young governess’ gray eyes swam into view. His mouth twitched. The deuce! She’d been frowning at him.
Chapter Three
“Where have you been, Lord William?” Jenny asked, as her young charge entered the schoolroom. “Your father will be waiting. I hope you weren’t dirtying your clothes down at the stables.”
“No, Miss Harrismith. I’m not dirty am I?”
He waited for her answer, his eyes wide and guileless. An expression she recognized. The, I am innocent and unjustly accused, look, with straw still clinging to his dark head.
“I’m not sure where this came from then,” Jenny exclaimed, plucking it from his hair before the schoolroom mirror. “There.” She gave his hair a quick brush. “We don’t want to be late, do we?”
“No, Miss Harrismith,” he said growing still.
She put down the brush and smoothed his collar. “I’m sure your father is looking forward to a nice long chat.”
William merely nodded.
“Will Father like my dress?” Barbara picked up the skirts of the frilly pink spotted muslin frock Nanny had chosen and turned around exposing chubby knees.
“Yes, poppet, I am sure he will.” Jenny bit her lip on a smile. “Shall we go downstairs?”
A liveried footman stood outside the library.
A hand on William’s shoulder, she sensed how tense he was. She glanced at the grandfather clock in the corridor. It was precisely two o’clock. She nodded to the footman, and he tapped on the door with his gloved fist.
“Come.”
The footman opened it and Jenny ushered the children into the library, a massive space with a high coffered ceiling. The room was warm and smelled of leather and old tomes. She would love to spend time there exploring the books in the bays around the walls.
The duke stood and came around the desk. “Good morning, Miss Harrismith. If you please.” He gestured to the seating arranged beside the wide fireplace which was comfortably ablaze. Above the carved marble mantlepiece hung a painting of a beautiful blonde woman in a white gown, smiling serenely. The duke’s deceased wife, Catherine. Barbara was the image of her.
The children sat beside Jenny on the leather chesterfield settee, their small bodies leaning against her, while the duke took the armchair opposite.
His Grace’s portrait had not exaggerated. He was imposing: broad shouldered, with a narrow intelligent face, and faint lines at the corners of his blue eyes. He was thirty-one, but looked slightly older. It was not a physical thing, she decided, but more an attitude. As if the responsibilities of being a duke, and his work, whatever that entailed, lay heavily on his shoulders, and something else too. His tragic past perhaps.
In fact, he was so overwhelming, Jenny felt suddenly shy. She forced her mind to the matter at hand. What she needed to say.
When his gaze rested on his daughter, the shadows deepened in his eyes. “While we have our tea, you can tell me about yourselves, how you spend your days.” He turned to look at Jenny. “And afterward, Miss Harrismith can add anything else she deems to be relevant.”
A painful silence followed when neither child spoke. Jenny turned to the silent boy beside her. “Tell your father about your fishing, Lord William.”
William cleared his throat. “I’m learning to fly fish, Father,” he said in a careful voice.
His father smiled approvingly. “Well done. A sport requiring some skill. You’ll get the hang of it when you’re older.”
“The gamekeeper has been instructing him,” Jenny said, unable to let the moment pass. “Lord William brought home a trout for Cook. It was made into a pie and served to the staff. They enjoyed it, didn’t they, Lord William?” Jenny settled her features into a smile. She feared she’d been frowning.
His Grace raised his dark eyebrows, no doubt at her audacity. “A trout, eh! We must throw in a line together. But I fear you will put me to shame.”
The boy ducked his head. “I would like that Father,” he said politely, curling his fingers into his palms. It upset Jenny to see him attempt to hide the intensity of his feelings, his need for his father’s approval.
Barbara had become b
ored with playing with a ruffle on her dress and began to wriggle. “Will you come and visit my dolls, Father?”
“I shall, my dear. Do you have many?”
“William counted them. He is very good at sums.” She leaned forward to look at her brother. “How many dolls have I, William?”
“Eleven,” William said promptly, looking pleased.
“That’s a full cricket team,” the duke said, laughter in his eyes. It made him look younger.
The boy chuckled.
Barbara huffed. “They are lady dolls, Father!”
“Oh yes, do forgive me, sweetheart. I don’t believe ladies play cricket, do they, William?”
“No, Father.” William grinned.
As William relaxed back in the chair Jenny grudgingly approved of the duke’s strategy.
“I am told you are doing well at your studies,” His Grace said, addressing William. “I shall engage a tutor for you this year who will prepare you for Eton. I have no doubt you will do well there.”
His young heir straightened. “I am a good rider, aren’t I, Miss Harrismith?”
“Lord William rides exceptionally well, Your Grace. The stable master told me he shows a natural aptitude.”
“Good, good.” His father accepted it without question. Jenny was sure all the males in this family would be incomparable riders.
A footman brought in a laden tea tray. The conversation halted while the children ate iced walnut cake and drank milk. Jenny poured cups of tea for herself and the duke.
“Thank you, Miss Harrismith.” He took the gold-rimmed porcelain cup and saucer monogrammed with the ducal crest from her, and added a slice of lemon with the silver tongs.
Jenny’s hand trembled. She carefully put down her cup and cleared her throat. “Your Grace, there are matters I should like to discuss with you if you have a moment. Alone.”
He sat back and sipped his tea while his blue eyes gently mocked her. “Yes, I suspected there might be, Miss Harrismith.”
He suspected? Now Jenny was as tense as William. She was relieved when the visit was over. “I shall see you here at eleven o’clock tomorrow, Miss Harrismith,” the duke said, as she ushered the children out.
“Well that went well, didn’t it?” Jenny said half to herself as they climbed the stairs to the schoolroom.
“I would like more walnut cake,” Barbara announced.
“You always eat too much cake, and then you feel ill.” William uttered a light-hearted laugh that Jenny was pleased to hear. “Do you think Father will come fishing with me, Miss Harrismith?”
“I believe he is a man of his word, Lord William.”
If he forgot she would have to find a way to remind him.
*
Andrew returned to the library where his man of business, Henry Thurgood, awaited him, having come down from London. Matters requiring Andrew’s attention lay in files on the desk. When Andrew directed him to sit, he pulled reams of paper from his valise and placed them before Andrew. His secretary, Anthony Bishop hovered over him ready to assist.
Two hours later, with Thurgood gone, and the matters dealt with, Andrew was left to his thoughts. From his memory, the Castlebridge governess of his childhood had a small mustache and a rather fierce voice. She looked nothing like the new governess. He grimaced. His children were scared of him. And Miss Harrismith, well, she continued to frown. What concerns did she have that she couldn’t express in front of the children? Wishing to see to his guests, he feared she would waste his time with her earnestness. But both his children were obviously fond of her. They’d almost hugged her while seated on the chesterfield.
Without appealing to Bishop, Andrew searched until he located her application for the position of governess, which the agency had sent for his perusal a year ago. At the time, he’d been away and barely glanced at the letter Bishop sent him. Miss Harrismith hailed from Yorkshire, a baron’s daughter, which surprised him and made him uneasy. His secretary’s cramped notes stated that her father had financial difficulties. A widower with a large family, he’d been forced to send his oldest daughter out to earn her living. A common, and sad tale, which made Andrew sympathize with her. How difficult it must have been to give up her privileged life for one of servitude. The list of her accomplishments was impressive. She had a sufficient knowledge of Latin to prepare William for school. A good grounding in music theory, and proficiency in the pianoforte. Her knowledge of drawing and watercolors would be excellent for Barbara. And it was obvious that Miss Harrismith had the poise and confidence to converse with him on equal terms.
Andrew picked up a pen and rolled the handle between thumb and forefinger as he paused in thought. He was inordinately pleased with the caliber of governess his children now had, the last one having been a disappointment, but by the same token, Miss Harrismith was a lady, and ladies were born with a certain knowledge of their place in the world. She would be prepared to speak her mind. And he was quite sure she would voice hers tomorrow. He expected if her father’s finances improved she might be called home. It was to be hoped that she wasn’t about to give notice, as he would be sorry to lose someone William and Barbara liked, but he doubted that was the reason. He looked forward with interest to what Miss Harrismith was eager to tell him.
He strolled to the fireplace and pulled the bell cord.
“Send the housekeeper to me,” he instructed when the footman entered.
Minutes later, Mrs. Pollitt stood before him hands clasped tight against the skirts of her black gown. “Everything has been made ready for the shooting party, Your Grace. Is there anything more you require?”
“Thank you, no. This concerns Miss Harrismith. Is she fitting in well?”
“The children do seem to like her,” Mrs. Pollitt said. “But a governess should keep a certain distance, in my view. It’s my opinion that they have become a little too familiar.”
“I imagine it would be difficult to stop them,” he said mildly. “The children, I mean.” And perhaps Miss Harrismith also. “I am not displeased with Miss Harrismith,” he said. “I hadn’t expected William to still be in the nursery.”
Mrs. Pollitt’s brow puckered. “According to Miss Harrismith, Lady Barbara begged Lord William to remain in the nursery with her.” She shrugged. “I did suggest the governess not bow to your daughter’s wishes, for Lady Barbara will become most dreadfully spoiled, but as you see, she has not chosen to remove Lord William from the nursery.”
“I see.” Andrew found himself much in agreement with Miss Harrismith on this issue, for it would happen naturally, when William wished it to, but he declined to say so. “Is Miss Harrismith’s accommodation adequate? I should like to see her made comfortable.”
Shocked, Mrs. Pollitt stared at him silently, as if he had suggested moving the young lady into his apartments.
“She has the attic room generally assigned to governesses, Your Grace. It is somewhat larger than those assigned to the maids.”
The housekeeper’s voice carried a hint of displeasure. Governesses were positioned somewhere between the servants and the family, which could prove difficult for them. “Perhaps a bedchamber on the same floor as the children’s?”
“There is only Nanny Evan’s bedchamber in the tower wing, Your Grace. Adjoining the nursery.”
“Oh yes, Nanny.” He rubbed his chin. “Thank you, Mrs. Pollitt. You may go.”
The housekeeper curtsied and left the room, no doubt wondering what bee had got under his hat. He wondered at it himself.
With a regretful glance at the pile of correspondence which would require several hours spent with his secretary, Andrew made his way to his apartments to change, before he met Greta and her brother in the yellow salon. Although there was a mountain of things demanding his attention, he intended to be a good host and see to his guests’ enjoyment.
Some hours later, as Andrew conversed with Greta and Ivo in the salon, the butler announced his cousin Raymond.
Raymond walked in with his chee
rful grin. He shook Andrew’s hand. “I heard you’d come home and as I was passing through Oxford, thought I’d call and see how you go on,” he said in his easy manner.
“I’m glad you did, Ray.” Andrew turned to his guests. “Allow me to introduce you. Greta, Baroness Elsenberg and Ivo, Herr Von Bremen, my cousin, the Honorable Raymond Forsythe.”
“I see a family likeness, Mr. Forsythe,” Greta said with her charming smile. “But I’ve never understood the English way of shortening names. Why do you call him Ray, Your Grace?”
“Because as a youth he was a ray of sunshine,” Andrew said tongue-in-cheek. “Charmed all the ladies.”
“Ah!” Raymond’s blue eyes danced. “What rubbish! Don’t believe him, Baroness. It’s pure indolence on Andrew’s part.”
Andrew grinned. “We spent a lot of time together growing up. Sit, please, Ray. May I offer you a glass of claret?”
Raymond seated himself in an armchair and crossed his long legs. “I would welcome a glass. Drove down from Caufield Park. That’s in Yorkshire,” he explained to Andrew’s guests.
“How is your mother?”
“In excellent health. I was obeying the order to visit.” He gave a rueful smile. “It’s been a while, and she accuses me of neglect.”
“Aunt Augusta is quite a formidable lady. She would shake Wellington to his boots,” Andrew said. “She scared me as a youth after I broke a window pane with a cricket ball.”
Raymond turned to Andrew’s guests. “Are you enjoying your stay in England? I shall direct the question to you, Baroness. Ladies are more observant, I find.”
Greta’s gaze rested on Andrew. “I like it more and more.”
“Not quite as civilized as Vienna,” Ivo said. “But it holds promise.” His laugh took the sting from his words.
“I haven’t had the fortune to travel to Vienna, but I hear it is a beautiful city,” Raymond said.
“Indeed it is.” Ivo nodded. “The Austrian women are charming.”
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