Heiress in Love

by Christina Brooke

  A twinkle replaced the indignation. She fluttered an airy hand. “It matters not who.”

  Grinning, he recalled his own youthful tendre for a pretty little parlor maid. “Is Violet still here? Now she was a saucy piece.”

  “Ah, but she had ambition, that one,” said Marthe. She shrugged. “Some visiting milady took a liking to her and lured her away to become her personal maid.”

  Constantine swallowed. “Good for Violet.” He looked around the kitchen. “I’m amazed the fine milady didn’t lure you as well.”

  Marthe shrugged. “Many have tried, but me, I am paid very well and I have been content. But eh voilà! Now that you are here, I can create!”

  He grinned. “Excellent. Marthe, you shall create to your heart’s content.” He waved his fork in a shooing motion. “But I am keeping you from your meal. Go, I insist!”

  “Yes, milord.” With a chuckle, Marthe bobbed a curtsy and left.

  Constantine devoted himself again to his plate, but the clatter of footsteps down the stairs disturbed his enjoyment. He looked up to see a dark-haired boy erupt into the kitchen, then stop short.

  One glance told Constantine this was no kitchen boy. The cut of his nankeen jacket and the quality of its brass buttons proclaimed his status as a member of the family.

  The boy seemed to collect himself. He made a quick, jerky bow and panted, “Lord Roxdale, sir.”

  Constantine smiled. “And you must be Luke.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Rising, Constantine moved around the table and held out his hand to his ward.

  Luke tilted his head a little, as if confounded by his guardian’s offer to shake hands. Then he stretched out his own and gripped Constantine’s with a slightly aggressive force.

  Ah. So Lady Roxdale wasn’t the only one who objected to his presence at Lazenby.

  Lightly, Constantine said, “If you’ve come down here in search of a decent breakfast, let me recommend the bacon. It’s excellent.”

  A furtive glance to the servants’ hall betrayed the boy. His eyes grew round when his gaze alighted on Constantine’s heaped plate.

  “I won’t tell if you don’t,” said Constantine.

  Luke swallowed and sent another glance toward the kitchens. “It’s just that I don’t like to hurt Aunt Jane’s feelings.”

  “I quite understand. But this sort of grub is more what a man needs for sustenance than that, er … lighter fare upstairs,” said Constantine. “Load your plate and bring it back here, will you? You and I ought to become better acquainted.”

  The boy’s highly expressive face reflected the war of conscience and desire that went on in his mind. Desire finally won, and he scampered off to collect his own meal.

  Upon his return, he sat on a chair a little removed from Constantine’s. Luke kept his eyes on his plate, shoveling Marthe’s flavorsome food in his mouth, presumably so he didn’t have to talk to his companion.

  Undeterred, Constantine kept up an easy stream of reminiscences about his time at Lazenby. “When we were boys, Frederick and I would come down here and visit Marthe. We’d pack our saddlebags full of treats from the kitchen and ride all around the estate. We were knights, slaying dragons and rescuing fair maidens.” He grinned. “I liked the rescuing part.”

  There was a touch of envy in Luke’s gaze. “Aunt Jane says I’m too young to ride my pony without a groom along. She rides with me sometimes, but…” He shrugged a shoulder.

  Constantine frowned. “How old are you again?”

  “Six and three quarters,” said Luke, his voice tinged with indignation.

  “Hmm.” At that age, Constantine and Frederick had been up to all sorts of mischief, enjoying the freedom of boyhood to the full. He didn’t blame Luke for the despondent tone to his voice. Taking along a groom was not conducive to high adventure.

  Clearly, Cousin Jane restricted the boy to an unreasonable degree. Not out of malice. No, she wasn’t a cruel woman, anyone could see that. Perhaps merely overprotective. Either way, it wasn’t good for the boy to be coddled.

  Constantine framed his response carefully. “You are fortunate that Lady Roxdale takes such a keen interest in your safety. However, there are some things ladies do not understand. I’ll speak with her and see if we can come to a better arrangement.”

  Luke’s face lit with hope. Almost immediately, though, his expression faltered. His eyes dimmed and lowered; his mouth turned down at the corners.

  “Not that it’ll do any good,” he muttered. “You are sending us away.”

  Constantine reached out and tilted up Luke’s chin so that he had to look him in the eye. “I am not sending you away. And that, my dear Luke, is a promise.”

  * * *

  “You wished to see me, Your Grace?” Jane entered the drawing room at the appointed hour, braced for the coming discussion. She was armed to the teeth with arguments for her cause, regardless of her prospective groom’s reluctance to tie the knot.

  The duke must have surmised by now that she’d been avoiding him. Last night, she’d pleaded fatigue. This morning, she’d refused his invitation to go riding even though she longed for a good gallop and fresh country air. But she couldn’t delay this interview any longer. The duke was leaving for Town shortly.

  Montford looked up from a letter he’d been reading. “Yes, my dear. Shall we sit down?”

  Jane glanced at the letter. For a missive to find the duke here, it must be important. “Not bad news, I hope?”

  The duke raised his brows. Jane braced herself for a set-down in return for her curiosity.

  But the duke merely folded the letter and slid it into his coat pocket. “Not at all. Some urgent business I must attend to. I regret I’m obliged to curtail my visit and leave immediately for London.”

  “So Rosamund told me. How tiresome. I’d thought you’d all stay the week, at least.”

  “Yes, I’d thought so, too.” He paused. “You, however, would do well to remain here while the solicitors sort out the estate. Keep an eye on things.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, a little surprised that Montford would not cavil at her remaining under the same roof as someone of Constantine Black’s reputation. “I’m persuaded my departure at such a moment would create more confusion than there is already.”

  Jane sat on the sofa and the duke followed suit, choosing a spindle-legged chair. He looked elegant and at ease and Jane wished she’d learned the trick of concealing her own feelings so well. Ah, but perhaps it was not a trick. Perhaps what they said of him was true: the Duke of Montford had no feelings at all.

  “Tell me, Your Grace, is the situation really as dire as Beckenham thinks?”

  The duke sighed. “Constantine Black has been left with Lazenby Hall and its contents, and all of the surrounding land. The rest—investments, stocks, bonds, and so on—are held in trust for you.”

  “But I don’t want it,” Jane said.

  “Nevertheless.”

  She licked her lips. “Is there no way I can give it all back?” In exchange for Luke, of course.

  “That would be complicated. The trustees would be in breach of their duty to allow it.” Montford spread his hands in an unaccustomed gesture of helplessness. “It is a great shame that Frederick sought to break up the inheritance in this manner, but there’s not a great deal we can do about it now. Put it in the hands of lawyers and it could drag on into the next century. You know what they’re like.”

  The duke steepled his fingertips together and pressed them to his lips. “You’re an intelligent woman, Lady Roxdale. You must have realized by now that there is but one way to piece this jigsaw back together, and that’s for you to marry the new baron.”

  She bowed her head. “Your Grace—”

  The duke held up a hand. “I don’t advise it, however. Were he a man of a different stamp…” He pressed his lips together, marking his disapproval. “But Constantine Black would make any lady miserable. His reputation is shocking. He is barely received in societ
y.”

  Jane blinked. Had she heard correctly? Had the duke actually advised her to seek personal happiness above familial duty? But how inconvenient that his change of heart should occur now, when she would gladly make that sacrifice to keep Luke.

  “What on earth did the wretch do?” She tried to make the inquiry sound offhand. “I seem to remember talk of some scandal, but Frederick would never speak of it.”

  “He seduced a young lady and abandoned her,” said the duke, not mincing his words. “He’d earned the reputation of a hellion well before that, but that particular episode put him beyond the pale. The family tried to hush it up, of course, but these things will out.”

  A heavy sensation in her stomach felt like disappointment. She blinked in surprise. She’d known Constantine Black for a scoundrel, hadn’t she? Why should she be disappointed?

  “What happened to the young lady?” she asked.

  The duke shrugged. “Oh, they married her off to some other fellow. A barrister, I think. Hardly comparable to what she might have become had Black done the decent thing by her.”

  Had Black done the decent thing, that unknown lady would supplant Jane as mistress at Lazenby Hall now … Oh, oh. What a horrible, selfish creature she was. That poor young lady, obliged to marry a barrister! There, that was the proper sentiment.

  So much for Cecily’s brilliant plan. Even if Jane succeeded in seducing Constantine Black, history showed he could not be shamed to the altar. Besides, she’d despise herself if she played such a low trick.

  She could well understand the temptation Constantine Black must have presented to an unseasoned girl. She herself felt the immense power of his charm, and she was neither a silly young lady, nor did she have any romantic illusions about bed sport.

  “How old was he at the time?” And why did she grasp at extenuating circumstances?

  The duke shrugged. “Twenty? Twenty-one? Old enough to know better.”

  Young enough to make a mistake.

  Jane shook herself. Defending him, now, was she? She’d no more sense than that poor, deluded young lady. An honorable man would never refuse to marry a gently born girl he’d ruined, no matter how young he was.

  It seemed the duke would not assist her in her plans to marry the new Lord Roxdale. She would have to secure Constantine’s agreement on her own.

  If the duke’s disclosure was anything to judge by, Constantine Black was ruthless when it came to avoiding the parson’s mousetrap.

  Reverting to their original topic of conversation, she said, “Whatever the case with the estate, I ought to remain here to ensure the reins of the household are handed over without too much disruption.”

  “Yes.” The duke took out his watch and flicked open the lid, then returned it to his pocket. “I would caution you to have a care, however. Constantine Black is not to be trusted.”

  She thought of the previous evening in the chapel. How reckless she’d been! But he hadn’t ravished her, for all that. Hadn’t even stolen a kiss. He had merely …

  Unbidden, a thrill shivered up her spine.

  To cover her reaction, Jane smoothed her skirts over her lap. “You needn’t be concerned, Your Grace,” she said. “I am not a silly young girl. Indeed, I am perhaps the last woman on earth who would fall for the wiles of such a man.”

  The hooded eyes regarded her for a moment. “Hmm. Yes. Still, it is not desirable that you remain in the same house with him for too long. I wouldn’t countenance it at all if it were not for the awkward way in which things have been left.”

  “Lady Endicott has promised to stay to lend me countenance,” she reminded him.

  Montford nodded. “To be sure. Where is the countess? I haven’t seen her since the funeral.”

  “She took to her bed yesterday evening with a sick headache. Her maid told me the countess is usually well again after a day’s rest.”

  He frowned. “It is to be hoped the lady doesn’t remain indisposed. She is hardly an adequate chaperone if she never leaves her bedchamber.”

  Jane lifted her chin. “As I said, I’m not a silly young girl, Your Grace. Constantine Black is unlikely to trouble me.” She regarded him steadily. “You do not think he would press his attentions on an unwilling woman, do you?”

  “No. No, I expect he would draw the line at that,” said Montford. “Still, it would be best if an alternative arrangement could be made, as Lady Endicott won’t wish to remain here for long. I will think on it and advise you.”

  Should she mention Luke? Perhaps that wouldn’t be wise. If Montford knew how much she wanted Luke with her, he might suspect her motives for remaining at Lazenby. He might step in to stop her courting Constantine Black.

  A bustle outside brought the duke to his feet. Unhurriedly, he moved to glance out the window.

  “Ah. It seems all is ready for our departure. I must take my leave.” In his elegant, leisurely fashion, the duke drew on his gloves.

  He looked down at her for a long moment. “Good-bye, Jane.”

  Her name. He’d used her name. She gazed back up at him in wonder. Did she merely imagine that his expression had softened? A trick of the light perhaps …

  She made no response, but turned to accompany him down to the carriage.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The duke’s entourage departed. Jane stood beneath the portico and waved until the carriages were blurry figures drawing out of sight. Though she knew why they went, she could not help but feel a touch abandoned.

  However, there was no time for such maudlin thoughts. She needed to steel herself for her campaign to court Constantine Black.

  She’d tried reason. She’d tried being pleasant—although that effort had not been entirely wholehearted, she’d admit. Cecily’s suggestion that Jane should let Constantine compromise her to force him into marriage was rendered moot by Montford’s revelations about the scandal concerning Miss Flockton. Clearly, the new baron did not care for anyone’s good opinion. Even if Jane could bring herself to play temptress, it would be for naught if Constantine Black refused to marry her.

  Perhaps Cecily’s other suggestion was more likely to bear fruit. Jane needed to charm Constantine Black into marriage. He would never love her, but if he liked her well enough and found her moderately attractive, he might choose to wed her instead of pursuing other means of repairing his fortune.

  So, it was up to Jane to captivate him. She sighed. Captivating gentlemen had never been her forte. Another reason she’d been glad to eschew a London debut and marry Frederick at seventeen.

  Jane turned to go inside, to find Constantine standing at the top of the steps, watching her. She met his eyes, and that jolt of … something hot and vital surged within her.

  She colored—stupid blushes!—and his expression warmed with appreciation. He descended the steps in a leisurely fashion, never taking his gaze from hers.

  A silly, panicked fluttering struck up in her chest. She tried desperately to think of something pleasant to say to him, but his demeanor, redolent of male satisfaction, made her hackles rise. Her instinct was to deliver a frigid snub, but that would not help her.

  Remember the plan. Remember Luke. Forget your pride.

  Constantine tilted his head, as if to examine her more closely. “I think it must be the translucence of your skin that makes your blushes so delightfully ready. May I touch it?”

  Her face reddened further. “No! You may not!” She darted a look around, but there was no one near them to hear this embarrassing exchange.

  A glint of triumph lit Constantine’s eyes. Clearly, he’d intended to fluster her and was pleased with the result.

  Remembering her cousins’ strictures, she bit back an acid retort. Her lips stiff, she said, “It is a fine day. Would you—would you like me to show you the gardens?”

  He didn’t dispute the patent untruth of her comment about the weather. Nor did he point out that he was already acquainted with the house and its gardens.

  Instead, he gave a slight sh
rug of those broad shoulders. “Why not?”

  Constantine made as if to take her arm but she swept past him and stepped briskly toward the path. “This way.”

  Jane led him to the parterre garden, a geometrically designed relic of a more formal age. She kept up an informative commentary as they moved along. All the while, she was aware that his gaze never left her, even as she pointed out several unusual species and points of interest.

  She decided to take the bull by the horns. “You seem distracted, my lord.”

  He glanced into the distance, then transferred his gaze to her. “Might we put an end to this foolish and quite unnecessary formality? We are cousins by marriage, after all. Jane.”

  She’d always thought her name prosaic, but it sounded quite different when he said it. Warm and intimate, like a caress. The thrill that single syllable produced shocked her.

  She ought not to allow the familiarity, not from a man of his reputation. In ordinary circumstances, she’d refuse him.

  Yet, was it not her objective to promote goodwill between them? As long as that goodwill didn’t extend too far …

  She temporized. “I admit, it is a little confusing to call you Lord Roxdale, after Frederick. And we are related by marriage, as you said.” She gave a crisp nod. “Very well, then.”

  He halted her by placing a hand on her arm. “And still, you have not said my name.”

  Of course, he wouldn’t let her elude him so easily. Jane stared up at him for some moments. In a clear, deliberate voice stripped of emotion, she said, “Constantine.”

  She wondered if he experienced a thrill similar to hers. His darkened expression told her he had. Or perhaps that look signified satisfaction at so easily getting his own way. What did he want with her?

  Suddenly, she felt as if the two of them were very much alone out here. Jane’s blood rushed in tune with the fountains playing behind them. The breath hitched in her throat.

  Before she knew it, he’d reached out and brushed a crooked finger down her burning cheek.

  “You’re doing it again,” he said. “Regrettably, I have business to attend to this morning or I’d find a thousand more interesting ways to make you blush.”