The Duke watched the two women, waiting to see what would happen; he breathed a small sigh of relief.
“My lady? Run Brookshire! What do you mean?” Elizabeth exclaimed, “Thomas, what does she mean.”
The Duke smiled and looked at his sister. “Lizzy, as the sister of a Duke, you are a Lady, in name as well as fact. And technically, the mistress of Brookshire, until I get married that is. You will stay a lady, but obviously my wife will become Brookshire’s mistress.” He said, wondering how they had gotten onto the topic of marriage, see this is what happens when you travel with a bunch of women.
Elizabeth took the news well and seemed to enjoy the fact that her friends were going to be so jealous.
The rest of the trip was uneventful. He sat there quietly trying to make sure he didn’t touch Miss Harding. Several times the coach hit a bump throwing them into each other. Each time he felt an electric shock travel between them. His heart would raced and everything became tense, he was sure the other women must notice.
Elizabeth and Isabel soon found many things they both liked and spent the afternoon with their heads together. Talking together, like long lost friends about books and fashion. Elizabeth controlled most of the conversation, but Isabel held her own.
He was proud of Lizzy; he’d been worried that she might be too high and mighty for a cook’s daughter. However, she seemed to be perfectly accepting of the situation. Again he wondered how a cook had been able to afford to send her daughter to a finishing school. What had she hoped would happen? He thought it was something he would have to explore. It was the unknown facts that could cause the most problems.
So many mysteries, Isabel, Miss Harding, and her unknown past. And now his Lizzy, what was he going to do with her. Brookshire would be a dull, boring place for her. Would he have to take her to London with him? Was she old enough for a season, and if so, how would he ever do that. He had no idea what to do.
They finally turned into Brookshire just before the last light of the day. Young Jack Rife ran up to hold the horse’s heads. Thomas sighed to himself it was nice to be home. The thought surprised him; he hadn’t really had a home for so many years. It was nice to know that he belonged somewhere.
Lizzy gasped when she stepped down from the carriage. She had never seen the ducal mansion. Her eyes tried to take in everything at once. She turned to Miss Harding.
“Miss Harding, my admiration has grown immensely; please assure me you will tell me what to do.”
“Of course my lady,” Gwen said with a smile.
“Don’t worry Lizzy, you don’t have to do anything until you feel comfortable,” Thomas said with a soft smile.
He followed everyone into the front hall and caught Miss Harding’s eye. A brief glimpse of sadness passed behind her eyes. No one would have ever seen it if he hadn’t been looking directly at her. He was positive she enjoyed Brookshire, and it should have felt good to be back home. Why was she so sad he wondered?
.o0o.
The next three weeks were rather uneventful. Elizabeth had decided to throw an informal dinner party, a chance to get to know some of the other people in the district. Rev. Moore had been invited, the Sergeant Major had returned from his travels and would also be attending. Baron Jensen, his wife and daughter Mary from the other side of the village would round out the guest list.
He knew that Lizzy was very worried about everything, but Miss Harding had things well in hand. She had subtly guided the young woman through all the decisions needed to make a successful evening.
Thomas was appreciative and made sure that Miss Harding knew it. He’d tracked her down in the pantry and made sure to thank her. She’d blushed at the compliment and then saw the other maids looking at her with a smirk.
She backed away and then said “Thank you Your Grace, but I have a lot to do.” Then turned and quickly departed the small room. Her actions left him confused and irritated.
The dinner party went very well, and Lizzy couldn’t stop smiling. Isabel had been placed between The Baron and Mr. Moore. Thomas could have sworn that the seating arrangement had Moore on the other side between Lady Jensen and her daughter Mary. Lizzy had made a last minute change, putting Isabel next to Moore for some reason.
Thomas looked over his guests and then down the table to Lizzy at the other end. She looked very grown up and beamed when Lady Jensen complimented the meal. It was a nice enjoyable evening, but something was missing.
It was a few minutes before he realized that he wished Miss Harding was at the table. He missed her. Even though he knew she was in the other room. He wished she were sitting here next to him. He wondered what her impressions would be, did she know about the seating change and why.
Because it was a small informal affair, Thomas recommended the gentlemen forgo their cigars and brandy and escort the women to the parlor. The women heartedly agreed and the entire group made their way from the dining room. Thomas noticed that Mr. Moore was being especially solicitous to Isabel and that Lizzy noticed it also.
Smiling to herself like the cat with the canary, Lizzy watched her new friend. So that explains the seating change, Lizzy was acting as matchmaker. He didn’t know what he thought about that, but as long as she didn’t start with him he’d let it rest for now.
The evening was a huge success, an excellent meal followed by parlor games and gentle conversation. Baron Jensen proved to be a jovial companion and his wife an intelligent, interesting woman.
Their daughter Mary was betrothed to a young man currently serving in France. She had peppered him with questions about the Army and life in France. She was obviously well enamored of her young man, and he was more than happy to answer her questions. The fact that she was off the marriage market made the entire evening go so much easier.
After their guests had departed Thomas pulled Lizzy aside and gave her a quick hug and a kiss on the top of her head.
“It was a wonderful evening, you did a very good job,” he said.
She smiled up at him and then said, “I couldn’t have done it without Miss Harding, she knows everything, what should be on the menu, who should be seated next to whom. What we should talk about, everything.”
“Yet you felt comfortable enough changing the seating arrangements at the last minute,” He said with a knowing smile.
Lizzy blushed and looked down, embarrassed at being caught.
“It worked out well, don’t you think,” she said with a knowing smile that reminded him of his mother. His heart ached for a moment; she was much more a woman than a little girl.
Chapter Seven
It was late or early depending how you thought about it. His valet had departed for the evening. Thomas rubbed the back of his neck trying to relieve the knot of tension put there by too many hours poring over old ledgers. He’d spent hours holed up in his study comparing them to the figures brought back by the Sergeant Major.
Kicking off his boots, he pulled his shirt over his head before tossing it onto a chair. He was preparing to lower his pants when he heard a high pitched scream from the other side of the building. Lizzy?
Without thinking, he was out the room and running down the hall, cursing his wounded leg and the fact that it wouldn’t move as it should. His heart raced as he imagined all kinds of terror happening to his little sister.
He rounded onto the girl’s wing. A door halfway down the hall was open with a weak light leaking into the hallway.
Rushing as hard as his leg would let him he burst into the room.
Isabel lay on the floor in her night clothes. Miss Harding stood over her wearing nothing but a night rail with a fireplace poker held over her shoulder like a cricket bat.
Yelling, “Get away from her.” She swung and hit a tall, thin man in the chest with a thick thunk sound. The stark white look on her face reminded him of soldiers he’d seen in hand to hand combat; the rage and blood lust had taken over.
Not waiting, Thomas grabbed the man by the collar and belt then threw him a
cross the room, getting him away from his women. The man flew through the air like a wounded duck before landing on his back with a shock that vibrated through the floor boards.
Thomas turned and checked on the women, they appeared to be all right. Scared, but unharmed. Miss Harding stood there with the poker raised, ready to defend them. Isabel lay on the ground, resting on her elbows as she prepared to get up from the floor.
Lizzy appeared in the door and ran to hold Isabel. All four of them turned to look at the attacker.
Mr. Strait writhed on the ground grabbing at his chest trying to get his breath back.
Thomas’ hand instinctively grasped for an absent sword at his waist. Cursing under his breath, he pulled a bare foot back to kick the man in the head.
You’re not in France anymore he thought to himself with just enough time to save Mr. Strait from a severe headache.
Reaching down, he pulled the intruder to his feet. The tall man refused to remain still, flailing his arms about and trying to push himself away. Thomas had had enough, pulling his fist back he punched him square in the face, knocking him back to the floor once again.
Shaking his bruised hand, he looked around and saw Freddy at the door.
“Goodwin, please ask the Sergeant Major to join us.”
A few minutes later. “Sir, you sent for me,” The Sergeant Major said from the doorway as he took in the scene around him. The footman Goodwin peeked around his bulk.
“Sergeant Major, Please escort Mr. Strait to my study, I will be down in a few minutes.”
“Yes Sir,” the Sergeant Major said, walking over and picking the man up by the collar of his shirt and propelling him out of the room.
“You heard the Major, this way.”
Thomas walked back to the women, Miss Harding had lowered her poker and stood there staring at his bare chest. Her fingers turned white as they squeezed the metal handle.
His heart skipped a beat when he looked at her. The fire backlit her long legs and every curve. For a moment, he forgot about everything else in the world. He forgot about the other people in the room, about the books and papers waiting on his desk. He forgot it all and saw only her. It moved him, sending a warm feeling through his belly.
Shaking his head he turned to Isabel, “Are you sure you are all right my dear,” he asked.
“Yes, Your Grace, thanks to Miss Harding that is,” Isabel said and smiled at the housekeeper. “He said I had to go with him, that I belonged to him. He was quite mad.” The young girl shuddered, hugging herself with her arms crossing her chest.
“Well we have him now, no need to worry about it,” he said looking off into the distance, fighting with himself to not look at Miss Harding again.
“The Sergeant Major and I will take care of everything, you try to get a good night sleep. Lizzy, please see to Isabel, Miss Harding, please come down to my study,” he said, still not looking at her.
She seemed to realize that she was standing there in her night clothes without a robe. Her face went white and her hand to her throat, pulling the shift tight. Then she reached for a blanket on the bed, pulling it off and hiding behind it.
“Yes Your Grace, I um, let me get changed and I will be right down.”
“Yes, of course,” The Duke said, feeling a little disappointed about the blanket. He’d truly loved the prior vision. Turning, he left before he said or did something he would regret.
.o0o.
Gwen’s hands shook, and her heart raced. The memory wouldn’t go away, she couldn’t bury it. Shaking all over, she sat on her bed wringing her hands as if trying to grasp reality. Her body felt as if it had lost all warmth.
His Grace was waiting she reminded herself but still she couldn’t force herself to move. Just like last time she thought, would she ever be able to put it behind her.
- The piece of white paper being handed to her stepfather. A document that sealed her fate. Selling her to a man she didn’t know nor want. - The stink of rum on the Earl’s breathe as he held her down. - The hard thwap sound the fire iron made when she struck him in the head with it. Like tonight, it had been the only weapon within reach. – The red blood that seeped from the wound.
Had she killed him, she didn’t know, she may never know. She’d run before she could find out, escaped. Fleeing barefoot in her nightgown.
Like a ship before a storm she’d been blown up onto this island of Brookshire. The one safe place in the world she’d thought. Until tonight.
Shuddering, she took a deep breath to try and calm herself. It’s over Gwen she repeated in her mind, it’s over, everyone is all right. It’s over.
After several minutes, her heartbeat slowed enough. Squaring her shoulders, she stood and donned her robe. His Grace was waiting.
Gwen slipped into the study, quietly closing the door behind her. She pulled the belt tight at her waist and ran a hand over the back of her head to make sure the tie for her hair was still in place.
The Duke had put on a white shirt before coming downstairs. Mr. Strait was trapped in the center of the room, The Sergeant Major behind him, ready to render him immobile if necessary.
His Grace stood before the man; His hands folded behind his back. As if he was having to restrain himself from throttling him. He glanced back to acknowledge her entry then looked at the prisoner as if he was a slug in the garden.
“Thank you for coming Miss Harding. I wanted you here as a witness to the proceedings. I would have asked Isabel and or Lizzy, but I think they have had enough excitement for the night. Don’t You?” The Duke said with a soft, soothing voice. As if he was gentling a new colt.
“Yes Your Grace, I understand,” Gwen answered.
“Now then Mr. Strait. Do you have anything to say for yourself?” The Duke asked.
The thin man’s piercing eyes stared into The Duke as if he wanted to drill holes into the other man. Gwen thought he looked a little insane.
“I’ve lost everything; they took the school away from me. The parents threatened to remove their daughters,” he said, spitting out the words.
“I told you that was going to happen. A man like you should not be in charge of such a school. That does not entitle you to break into my home and assault someone under my protection,” The Duke said, his hands clenching into fists.
Gwen’s eyebrows rose in surprise. She hadn’t know that the Duke had ruined the headmaster, and so quickly. She watched as his fists clenched and unclenched repeatedly. She was sure that he was going to hit the man again.
Instead, he stepped back and addressed the Sergeant Major. “Jack, I believe that His Majesty’s Navy is in need of volunteers. Could you please escort Mr. Strait to the London docks and ensure he is safely placed aboard a vessel scheduled to depart on a long voyage.”
The tall, thin man blanched and started to sway back and forth as the reality of his situation sank in.
“Yes Sir, right away.” The Sergeant Major said.
“Your Grace,” Strait begged, dropping to his knees. “Please you can’t do this, you have no right.”
“Actually I do have the right, unfortunately, besides being a Duke of the realm, I am also the local Magistrate. Push me much more and I will change the sentence to a long imprisonment. Sergeant Major, carry out your orders.”
The soldier grasped the back of Strait’s coat and lifted him to his feet.
“I think I should inform you, if you try to escape I will shoot you where you stand. Please, please try, I haven’t shot anyone for months.” Jack said as he pushed him out of the room.
Gwen watched them, her mind racing. Pressed into the Navy, for a man like Strait it might very well mean a death sentence.
Was it really all over? Had she really hit that man with a fire iron?
She remembered the fear that had raced through her body when she saw him holding Isabel. Her past had flashed before her eyes and that sickening feeling of helplessness had covered her in a morass. Then she’d broken through and grabbed the first thing sh
e could think of and hit the man.
She’d wanted to kill him. All of her anger had been focused in hurting him. If The Duke hadn’t thrown him across the room, there was no telling what she might have done.
Smiling to herself, she remembered His Grace picking the man up and tossing him across the room like a rag doll. She looked up and saw that the Duke was looking at her with piercing eyes. He’d caught her smiling.
“Thinking about hitting Strait with that fire Iron? Felt good didn’t it.” The Duke said.
“Actually, I was thinking about you throwing him across the room,” Gwen said.
The Duke laughed. He watched her for a moment then reached out to pat her on the shoulder at least that is what she thought. Instead, somehow both his arms reached out and pulled her into a hug.
“Thank God you are safe, I was so worried,” he whispered into her hair.
Gwen melted into him. She didn’t think about it, her body reacted, letting him hold her. She savored the feeling as those strong, secure arms folded around her and knew that all was right with the world again.
The months and months of stress leaked away, and all that remained was a contentment that filled her. The terror of her memories, the fright of Isabel being hurt, all of it disappeared.
She put her arms around him and squeezed back, trying to make him feel as good as she felt. He smelt of smoke, and brandy, and all man. It was a scent she would never forget. Leaning back a little, she looked up and saw The Duke stare down at her, his intense silver eyes boring into her soul.
As she watched, he leaned forward and kissed her, his lips taking control of hers. Surprised at first, her body reacted without thought by sinking into the kiss. Her knees began to wobble as she held on tight to stop herself from falling.
He towered over her, making her feel small and feminine, everything about him made her feel good about herself. A weak moan escaped as her lips instinctively parted to let his tongue enter, exploring her mouth, setting her on fire.
She could feel herself slipping away; every part of her soul was lost in feeling what he did to her.
The Reluctant Duke (Love's Pride Book 1) Page 6
