She wondered what he would have done if he hadn’t become a Duke? She imagined him leading a party through the jungle in search of some fortune or serving in some far off army post. Instead, he sat in a carriage on his way to pick up his sister and his cook’s daughter. How life must seem so boring to him now.
She was tempted to ask him about the army but instead asked him where he had grown up, immediately realizing she was creating a risk as he might start asking about her past. The burning desire to know everything about him pushed aside any sense of caution.
They spent a very pleasant afternoon talking about politics and history. They talked about the recent scientific discoveries, even about the illness of King George. It was a wonderful afternoon. It made her a little sad to think that they would probably never have an opportunity like this again. He was being pulled further and further into his ducal world. The next thing would be him going to London, and her staying behind at Brookshire.
She wondered if they’d met in different circumstances, different lives. Would there have been this immense attraction between them. Would they have been able to pursue their true desires? God, she liked to believe so.
.o0o.
Thomas was frustrated and harried and wished for a quieter life. He closed his eyes and rested his head back against the squabs. All the drama surrounding his every action was becoming rather tiresome. The constant worry about bringing shame to his family’s name. The need for things to be perceived as right and proper rested on his shoulders like a bag of bricks.
Sighing to himself, he thought of what lay before him. What would his sister think of all this? Would she be mad at him for not getting her sooner, for ignoring her all these years? How did she feel about being a Duke’s sister?
Parliament would be convening soon which meant a trip to London, and he still had to make a tour of his other estates. It could not be put off much longer.
All he had ever hoped for was a career in the army, long periods of quiet interrupted by short bursts of pure terror. Followed up by a nice retirement in the country somewhere, he might have written his memoirs. Life would have been good.
Instead, he was trapped in this Dukish prison. A place, he might add, that kept him from pursuing the one thing he wanted, the woman in the seat across from him.
Opening his eyes, he looked over at her. She was breathtaking again this morning, in her plain gray traveling dress, bordered by lace at the collar and sleeves. No longer wearing a simple maid’s cap, she wore a light blue bonnet that almost matched her cloak. Her blond hair was up with a small segment loose in the back. A wisp he was sure she did not know about.
He knew she was attracted to him almost as much as he was to her. Her eyes dilated when she looked at him. She’d bite the inside of her lip and wring her hands when she thought he wasn’t looking. Or touch her hair and smooth her dress whenever he walked into a room.
All the signs were there. But the barriers between them were insurmountable. Society wouldn’t let them explore the possibilities, at least not openly. His family’s name couldn’t withstand another scandal. She would be viewed as a harlot, a temptress, trying to use her body to rise above her station in life. He would be viewed as a cad, using his position of power to abuse a frail weak woman, someone trapped in his employ.
He closed his eyes and tried to put the thoughts out of his mind. He failed miserably.
.o0o.
The school house was a drab gray building located at the edge of the village. Three small stone steps led to a brown door in a flat stone wall. Thomas gingerly exited the carriage and held out a hand to help Miss Harding. She tightly gripped his hand as she made her way down the vehicles steps.
Turning he escorted her up the steps and used the head of his cane to knock on the plain oak door. An austere butler dressed in black answered and after a quick perusal opened it wide enough for them to enter. The Dukepresented his card that simply saidBathurst,laying it on a silver tray.
The butler scowled at the card and asked them to remain there while he presented the card to the headmaster. Returning a moment later, he said that the Headmaster was available and asked them to join him in office.
The School’s leader stood behind his desk, the small white card in his hand. He was a tall, thin man, starting to go bald, with a pale complexion and a thin, weak chin. His eyes scrunched in confusion. Obviously trying to determine why a Duke would be visiting him.
“Welcome Your Grace, I am Mr. Strait, the Headmaster here,” he said, puffing out his chest a little. “How might I be of assistance?”
“Hello Strait, this is Mrs. Harding, we’ve come to retrieve Miss Morgan.” The Duke said, adding the Mrs. At the last second. Thinking it would avoid difficulty. She didn’t even flinch at the small lie. Good girl, he thought with a secret smile.
Strait’s face went chalky white and his eyebrows knotted in confusion. He obviously had no idea that Miss Morgan had any association with the nobility.
“I see, Your Grace,” he said, when he obviously didn’t. “I will have her brought in right away, she is currently teaching a class. Won’t you please have a seat,” he said, indicating the two chairs in front of his desk. “May I ask, how our Miss Morgan is associated with someone of your standing? I must say I am rather surprised.” His eyes darted around the room as if searching for an answer.
“Oh, her mother and I are very good friends, we’ve known each other since I was a little boy. Younger than many of your students here no doubt,” he said sitting only after he was sure that Miss Harding was comfortably settled in her chair. He looked up at the Headmaster, who had grown even whiter.
“Yes, of course … I um, yes of course. Let me get her, at once,” he said as he hurried from the room.
They could hear him yelling down the hall, directing someone to retrieve Miss Morgan and to have her come to his office.
The tall man slipped back into the room and behind his desk. Sitting down, he folded his hand in front of him, trying to gain control over something. He looked at the Duke, and then at Mrs. Harding. His eyes started to roam over her body. Probably thinking about how the high ton always got the best. His face blanched as he quickly remembered who she was with and instantly shifted his gaze back to the Duke.
Thomas’s hackles jumped as a heavy anger washed through him. He decided that he didn’t like this man. He’d been willing to chalk everything up to a misunderstanding, to retrieve Isabel Morgan and never have any dealings with this man or the school again, keeping everything quiet. It would be best for Miss Isabel, his sister, and for him.
That had been his intentions until the scoundrel had looked at Miss Harding that way. The man was a despicable cur and would be made to pay for that simple glance of disrespect.
The Duke’s mind began to wander to the many ways he could ruin this man’s life. He was only now beginning to realize all of the levers of power that a Duke possessed.
The office door opened, and a young woman of about eighteen stepped in. Dressed in a simple charcoal gray frock. With her hair tied back she looked plain and nondescript. A surprised expression registered on her face when she saw two other people in the office and stepped back when everyone else stood up in greeting.
“Hello Miss Morgan, I am the Duke of Bathurst, and a good friend of your mother. This is Mrs. Gwen Harding, who I am sure you have heard much about from your mother.”
Young Isabel nodded but remained confused, then remembering her manners, dipped a quick curtsy.
Miss Harding stepped forward with a smile and held out a letter. “Your mother asked me to give you this, she is well and said that the letter would explain everything.”
Isabel took the letter and then looked at the two newcomers trying to figure out what was happening. Seeing their smile of encouragement she opened the letter and started to read. Her face slowly went white.
“My mother told you of my situation,” she said, throwing Mr. Strait a hateful look, then returning to reread the letter.<
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“See, here, I really must be told what this is all about. Miss Morgan works for me, and I really can’t allow…” the headmaster said, shaking his head in confusion.
“Mrs. Harding, why don’t you help Isabel retrieve her things and we will be on our way,” Thomas said, gently smiling at the two young women.
Miss Harding curtsied and held Isabel’s arm as she escorted her out of the office. The young woman didn’t make her goodbyes, walking out in a daze, totally ignoring the headmaster.
Thomas turned and looked down his nose at the man behind the desk as if he were a piece of filth stuck on his shoes. Mr. Strait was flabbergasted and couldn’t believe what was going on.
“I say, see here. I can’t allow Miss Morgan to leave. She has classes to attend to; her students need her. No, I really must insist.”
“Mr. Strait, you seem to be under the confusion that I care what you want. You have made a terrible mistake,” Thomas said through clenched teeth. “You chose to pressure Miss Isabel Morgan because you believed her to be poor, young, and desperate. Most of all you believed her to be without any male protection. I know the kind of man you are. You sir are a coward and a cad. I plan to make it my mission in life to see you removed from your position. A man like you shouldn’t be anywhere near young women.”
The headmaster sputtered. Obviously he was not used to people talking to him that way. He clenched his fists while spittle ran down his chin as he looked around the room for some type of assistance. He started to come out from the desk and reclaim his employee only to have the Duke move in front of him, daring him to take another step.
His Grace, the fourth Duke of Bathurst relished the idea. The huge man gently leaned his walking stick next to his chair so that he would have both hands free, squared his shoulders and stared into the man’s eyes. Daring him to take another step.
A gentle knock on the office door broke the moment.
Miss Harding stuck her head in and said, “We are ready Your Grace.”
She looked over at the Headmaster and registered the look of alarm and fear on his face. She smiled at the Duke and then backed out.
Thomas grabbed his stick and went to the open door. He turned and said to the man. “You and I are not done. I would strongly recommend that you find employment elsewhere while you still can. Once I am done with you, you won’t be able to get a job shoveling coal in a pit.”
Miss Harding and young Isabel stood there waiting, both dressed for traveling.
Isabel, approached him, her eyes cast down. “Thank you, Your Grace, Gwen, Mrs. Harding, has explained everything, and I wanted to express my sincere appreciation for all that you have done.”
“It is of no matter, I assure you,” the Duke said.
Isabel smiled and said, “That is what Gwen said you would say, but my thanks all the same. And if I might, may I delay you a moment longer.”
“Of course.”
Isabel lifted her head and straightened her back and marched into the Headmaster’s office, leaving the door wide open for all to see. The man continued to stand behind the desk unable to grasp what had just happened. His eye lit up when he saw his former employee enter and watched her walk across the room to stand directly in front of him.
He looked down into her eyes and she looked up into his. Then she reached back and slapped him across the face with a fully open hand. The smack resonated off the walls and into the hall.
Young Miss Morgan turned on her heel and walked out of the office, a large smile on her face.
Chapter Six
Gwen was amazed at the difference between schools and school leaders. Elizabeth Marshall’s school was light and colorful, and the headmistress, Mrs. Givens, a middle-aged woman of average height and slightly larger than average girth, with frizzy brown hair and spectacles. Her quick smile and twinkly eyes made her appear as if she had a hard time restraining her bubbly nature. Gwen would have loved to go to such a school.
Mrs. Givens asked them to be seated and informed them that Elizabeth was on her way. Isabel and Gwen both sat while the Duke remained standing, one hand resting on his stick, the other behind his back.
“She is so excited to be leaving. Although the faculty and her fellow students will miss her a great deal,” Mrs. Given said as the office door burst open and an exuberant seventeen year old young woman rushed into the room.
She was tall with long red hair the color of an Arabian sunset. She has the Duke’s brow and chin, Gwen thought as she watched the two look at each other across the room. The girl hesitated, trapped between the desire to show how mature she was and the need to hug her brother.
The Duke stood there in shock, his eyes as wide as saucers. This beautiful young woman was his little sister. She had obviously grown so much since he last saw her. The Duke had told her on the ride earlier that she’d been a rambunctious harridan when he’d last seen her three years ago.
Here she was all grown up, looking like she could step into any drawing room in the ton. His chest puffed up with pride as he held out his two arms. It was all the encouragement she needed to throw herself at him, almost knocking him over with her hug.
He stepped back steadying himself with a hand to the desk before he could wrap his arms around her and return the hug.
A mist clouded Gwen’s eyes as she watched the two siblings. She felt a deep sense of loss and a desire for her own family. She caught Isabel smiling and smiled back. It was such a wonderful picture.
“Uh-hu,” the Duke said, clearing his throat. “Elizabeth, let me introduce you to Miss Isabel Morgan and Miss Gwen Harding,” he said stepping to the side to make the introductions. They curtsied to each other and then she raised her eyebrows in questions, waiting patiently for an answer.
“I will explain everything in the carriage, we have a long trip and must get started at once if we are to make Brookshire by evening,” he said. Turning to the headmistress. “Mrs. Gavin, please accept my sincere thanks for the outstanding job you have done with my sister. I would hardly know the young woman before me.”
Looking down and tucking one foot behind the other, Elizabeth blushed and smiled at her brother’s compliment.
“Of course Your Grace, it has been our pleasure, Elizabeth has always been one of our best students,” Mrs. Gavin said as she stepped from behind her desk to escort everyone out. “Her things have been loaded, she has been packed for days, haven’t you my dear,” she said with a soft smile.
.o0o.
The Duke handed each woman up into the carriage and then thanked Mrs. Gavin again for everything she had done.
Stepping up into the carriage, he saw right away that there was going to be a problem. The two younger girls had taken the back facing seat in the front of the vehicle, leaving the spot next to Miss Harding as the only available seat.
The Duke hesitated for a moment as if trying to decide whether to make someone move or not. Finally shrugging his shoulders he sat next to Miss Harding, being careful not to touch her and stretched out his leg as best as possible.
The heat coming off her body was intense; he could feel it through his jacket. He glanced over; she sat there stiffly, her hands folded in her lap, and a slight blush creeping up her neck. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to settle down for a long trip, a trip that was going to put him through hell.
Elizabeth was looking at him, and then at the two other women, waiting for an explanation.
The Duke sat up straight and started to explain. “Elizabeth, I would like to introduce again, Miss Isabel Morgan, my cook’s daughter, and your companion,” he said. There that hadn’t been too hard.
Elizabeth looked back and forth between a shy Isabel and her brother.
“A companion, why do I need a companion?” She asked “No offense Miss Morgan, but I really can’t think of why I need a companion.”
“Because Elizabeth, Brookshire is rather large, and there are no other people your age. And because you are now the sister of a Duke, you cannot be
running around alone all over the countryside.”
“I don’t run around the countryside,” she exclaimed, almost stomping her foot.
“I realize that now, you are obviously not the same girl I last saw hanging from an apple tree. However, the fact remains, as my sister, you will need a companion, and Miss Isabel needs a position. She has recently been teaching at a young woman’s school. I thought you would have a lot in common. And it is much better than having Aunt Celeste come stay with us.”
The color drained from her face at the mention of their aunt. She took a deep breath and turned to Isabel, who had sat there quietly, obviously distressed to be the center of someone else’s conversation.
“Of course, I am sure we will get along famously,” Elizabeth said. A large smile lightened up her face as she reached out to hold the other woman’s hand, reassuring the young Miss Morgan that everything would work out just fine.
Elizabeth looked at Miss Harding and then pointedly at her brother.
“Miss Harding is our housekeeper.”
Elizabeth’s eyes flew open in shock. The thought of the beautiful young woman being a housekeeper was obviously preposterous, what would everyone say. She looked at her brother to see if he was joking. “But…”
“The matter is settled Elizabeth; Miss Harding has kept Brookshire running through some very difficult times. She is the only person I can rely upon to keep it running smoothly,” he said in a stern, big brother type of voice.
Elizabeth glanced at Miss Harding for a moment, mulled it over for a second. It was obviously a lot to take in after such a short time seeing her brother again. She probably felt all a twirl, her entire world was being turned upside down. Seeming to come to some kind of conclusion she smiled she dipped her head and said, “It is very nice to meet you, Miss Harding. I am sure Brookshire would be lost without you.”
Miss Harding’s shoulders relaxed as she smiled and nodded back. “Thank you, My Lady, if there is anything I can do to help you run the Duke’s Residence, please let me know.”
The Reluctant Duke (Love's Pride Book 1) Page 5
