by Kit Morgan
After they finished their tea, Aldrich stood. “Shall we?” he offered an arm.
Tory got up, wiped her palms on the skirt dress and smiled. She was nervous, and hoped it wasn’t obvious. The man looked so dashing. He’d changed his clothes and was dressed in what must be … hmm, well, she wasn’t sure what. Men’s day clothes? A dark jacket – what was it called again – a frock coat? A grey vest, dark tie and slacks topped off with black shoes. To her, he looked dressed for a wedding.
Hmm, she mused silently. I wonder what he’d look like in a white tee-shirt and a pair of tight jeans?
She suddenly felt her cheeks grow hot. Stop it, Tory! She admonished just as silently. Enjoy his company while you have it and whatever you do, don’t flirt!
She smiled shyly as “don’t flirt, don’t flirt, don’t flirt,” pounded through her brain.
But it was hard. Not responding to him harder. He was so masculine she could barely stand it. She’d never met anyone like him. The only persons to come close were Mr. MacDonald and the duke himself. Speaking of which, where was he?
“Have you seen your friend?” she asked as Aldrich escorted her out of the drawing room.
“Friend?”
“The duke I mean.” Good grief! She couldn’t think straight. Maybe she’d better get away from this guy for a while. But extracting her arm from his would be rude, wouldn’t it?
“You mean Duncan?” he said with a chuckle. “Briefly, yes. I’ll speak with him again this evening. He’s a busy man, you know. And doesn’t stop his work on my account.”
“He doesn’t?”
“I insist he not. We have plenty of time to catch up and he manages to take me along now and then while he works. So there’s no shortage of time spent together.”
“That’s good. I wouldn’t want to steal you from him.”
“On the contrary,” he led her down another hall.
He stopped and looked at her. Really looked at her. She felt like a book that had just been opened for the first time. He leafed through her pages with that gaze, stopping occasionally to read. Her mouth went dry and she smiled weakly. “Contrary to what?”
He smiled back and her knees went weak. “My stealing you from him. I admit I enjoy spending time with you. Any woman who can put up with my lack of skill at teaching her to cast …”
“What are you talking about, lack of skill?” she blurted. “You were wonderful!”
His eyes roamed her face, fixated on her lips, and stayed there. Holy moly! Was he going to kiss her? She licked them in response as a shudder went through her. “Are you cold?” he asked gently. “I can have Becky fetch you a shawl.”
“No,” came out a tiny squeak. Dang if he wasn’t sending her over the edge! Of what she wasn’t sure but sensed she was at a precipice. If she wasn’t careful, he’d shove her off. That is if she didn’t voluntarily jump first.
He chuckled softly. “If I didn’t know any better, Miss Phelps. I’d venture to say that I make you nervous.”
“Me? Nervous? No way.”
He smiled as his eyes once more explored her face. “I dare say,” he said softly. “But you …” he abruptly looked away. “Haven’t seen this part of the house, have you?”
To be cut off from his gaze gave her a strange feeling of separation. Now that was new. She’d never felt anything like that before. “No, not yet. That’s why you’re giving me the grand tour, remember?”
He stared at her a moment before giving her a smile. “Quite. Shall we then?”
She nodded, unsure of what to say. They’d shared something a moment ago. Something special. He’d seen her. Really looked and seen her. And she caught the tiniest glimpse of him.
And … he was lonely.
Tory swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “Onward then.”
He gave her hand a tender pat and continued down the hall.
* * *
Aldrich, you cad, he thought to himself as he continued the tour. What are you doing? She’s Duncan’s hired tutor! An employee in his household! And besides which, she’s beneath your station.
Or was she? For all he knew, she was above him on that score. But he’d never know unless he started asking some questions. That was the real reason he needed to slow down. This was no foreign chit he could dally with. His dallying days were over. If he was going to get himself tangled up with a woman, it would be in marriage. The duchess was right, it was time. He needed to start thinking of settling down, having an heir to leave his estate and holdings to. Carry on the family name of Wolfe…
But to this woman? Hardly. She was the wrong choice by and by. He’d be a fool to think she would be right for him.
Yet, he hadn’t stopped thinking about her all afternoon. And didn’t he just admit he was showing her the house to spend more time with her? Get to know her better?
“How big is your estate?” she asked.
Aldrich took a breath. She’d startled him. He’d been over-thinking his attraction to her, fishing for an outcome he could never have. “Not as big as this one, if that’s what you want to know.”
“No, I was just asking. I know that this one is exceptional.”
“Mine’s not nearly so grand.”
“Considering you’re not a duke, I kind of figured,” she said with a bemused smile.
“Well, then, to answer your question. I have few servants, four to be exact. A butler, housemaid, cook, and stable boy.”
“That’s more than I’ll ever have.”
He stopped again. They were about to enter the library. “How many do you employ?”
She laughed. “None.”
He cocked his head slightly. But of course she didn’t. She was here as a mere tutor, not even a governess. He studied the delicate features of her face again. She was beautiful, and he could easily see her at his table, sharing meals, going on outings, playing with …
He cleared his throat. His family didn’t marry those of the working class. “This is the library,” he announced and opened the door.
“Oh my,” Miss Phelps whispered as they entered. “This is so cool.”
“You’re cold?”
“No,” she said with a laugh. “It’s another thing we say in America.” She gave him an odd look. “You don’t use the word “cool” here? I always thought it was used everywhere.”
“No, I’m afraid it isn’t. Here it means that one is cold.”
She giggled. He liked the sound. Blast.
“In more ways than one,” came a voice from across the room. The duke peeked around the wing chair he was sitting in, a book in his hand.
“Forgive us, Your Grace,” Aldrich said.
“There are no servants in here, Aldrich. Use my name, man.”
He smiled at Tory and led her to the chair. “I’m giving Miss Phelps a tour of the house. You don’t mind, do you, Duncan?”
“Of course not,” Duncan said as he stood. He set the book on the chair and stretched. “I trust you enjoyed tea with my wife?”
“We did,” Miss Phelps said before he could answer. “Very much.”
“Good. And I’m glad Aldrich here is showing you around. The first time my relatives from America came to visit, they kept getting lost.”
She laughed. “I can see how. This place is huge.”
“Large, yes, but mostly unused. We don’t get many visitors.” He exchanged a quick look with Aldrich, who knew well he was the only one to come for any length of time. But that’s because he was welcome. Unlike those wanting invitations for the sole purpose of gathering gossip to take back to the city.
“That’s too bad,” she said. “This is a great place to hold parties.”
“Yes, it is,” Duncan agreed. “Maybe we’ll host one while you’re here.”
Her face paled, and Aldrich felt his spine stiffen. What was wrong? He tightened his hold on her arm in reassurance. But was it for her, or him? “And how long is that, exactly?” he asked.
“Miss Phelps will be working with the
duchess on a trial basis. If my wife’s speech improves, then she stays.”
Miss Phelps pulled at her arm. Aldrich held it fast. “Um, excuse me, but, that’s not what I was told,” she said.
“Oh?”
“No. Mr. Mosgofian said that yes, this was a trial period, but that should I pass, I’ll be getting my own class to teach.”
“Oh yes,” Duncan said. “Forgive me, I stand corrected. Do you want an entire class?”
She stared at him, her mouth half-open. “To be honest, I don’t really know. Tutoring an individual then teaching a classroom full of people are two different things.”
“Indeed they are,” Aldrich agreed. “Especially as a woman.”
She looked at him, eyes full of challenge. “What is that supposed to mean? Don’t tell me you don’t have women teachers here.”
“Of course we do, but as you say, mostly as tutors and governesses. Most public and private educators of various institutions are men. Isn’t that how it is in America?”
“Heck no.”
His eyebrows went up. “Heck?”
She smiled and rolled her eyes. “It’s a kinder word for hell.”
He looked shocked as Duncan cringed. But was he cringing at her expletive, or his reaction? He couldn’t tell. No matter. He needed to stop this absurd attraction and set about finding a real prospect. Perhaps he should speak with Duncan about it. Yes, that’s what he’d do.
Aldrich turned back to Miss Phelps. “Would you like to see the fencing room?”
Ten
Several days later, Aldrich and Duncan met in the duke’s study after dinner to discuss a few things. “I think the way you’re handling your estate should make you a profit in no time,” Duncan said. “I’m glad you’re finally doing something with that bottom land of yours.”
“I know. Thank you for your advice.”
“Speaking of advice,” Duncan said as he made slow, circular motions with his hand, swirling the amber contents of his glass. “Might I give you some concerning Miss Phelps?”
Aldrich heavy sigh. “Don’t worry, I’ll not entangle myself.”
“Entangle?” Duncan said in surprise. “Is that what you’re calling it, these days?”
“We’ve only just met, my friend,” Aldrich reminded him.
“And yet there is an attraction.”
Aldrich got out of his chair, went to a sideboard, and poured himself another brandy. “It’s nothing.”
“Isn’t it?”
Aldrich faced him. “Might I inquire as to your interest in the matter?”
Duncan shrugged. “I have no particular interest. What I do have are observations.”
Aldrich made a scoffing noise and took a sip of brandy. It burned down his throat, filled his senses, and warmed his belly. Enough to make him ask, “What observations?”
“Fishing the first day, for instance? Walks, riding in the afternoons, talking longer than needed passing in the hall …”
Aldrich’s face contorted into a smile. “You should have seen her and Barnes trying their best not to fall in. I thought sure Barnes would take a tumble several times.”
“Don’t change the subject. We’re not talking about Barnes, old friend. We’re talking about you.”
“I thought we were talking about Miss Phelps.”
“Her as well.”
Aldrich crossed the room and retook his seat. “So tell me, friend, what other observations have you made concerning her?” His voice was laced with irritation but he didn’t care.
“Only that the attraction is mutual.”
Another scoffing noise. “I’m not blind, you know.”
“No, but you’re also not the smartest when it comes to women,” Duncan pointed out with a smile. “If you were, you’d have married long ago.”
“Who?”
“I can think of several prospects, none of which matter now. What does, is you’re not getting any younger, Aldrich. And you’re thinking about a wife.” He set his brandy on a small table between them and leaned forward. “I can see it in your eyes.”
Aldrich took a sip, followed by a long swallow, draining his glass. “You’re seeing things.”
“I’m not.”
He rose from his chair, intent on the sideboard and brandy decanter. He snatched Duncan’s glass off the table and went to refill them. He’d decided not to ask about Miss Phelps the day before. He thought it would help curb his growing attraction to her. But now this? “The thought of a wife holds some appeal, I’ll grant you that. But Miss Phelps …” he poured a small amount into each glass. “She’s hardly one to take to London during the season.”
“I’ll grant she’s a diamond in the rough, but so was I when I first took over this estate. Then there’s Cozette.”
Aldrich laughed as he returned to the sitting area and handed Duncan his glass. “Your wife is a beautiful little savage. Wild, untamed, unspoiled. You’re a lucky man to have such a woman.”
“Exactly my point. You don’t criticize my choice of a wife. You admire her. Miss Phelps may not be cut from the same cloth, but she’s as unconventional a woman as my Cozette. What say you, Aldrich?”
Aldrich stared at him in shock. Was he suggesting what he thought he was? “Miss Phelps? Are you bloody mad? She’s … well she’s …”
“Wild, untamed, and unspoiled?”
“I didn’t say that. And don’t put words in my mouth, Sayer. I’ll only spit them out.”
Duncan laughed. “You’ll do no such thing because you know I’m right. You want something different, Aldrich. I know you do. Ever since you were introduced to my wife, you began searching.”
Aldrich took a swig of brandy. “How would you know? You never go to London any more.”
“There’s enough talk among the gossip mongers to bring news as far as Stantham Hall. Remember, a lot of that tongue wagging is about my wife. If extra gossip gets tossed in, it comes to me as well.”
Aldrich sighed heavily and rested his glass in his lap. “I do want a wife.”
“Is that the brandy talking?” Duncan asked in all seriousness.
“No.” No sense hiding his thoughts at this point. Duncan always managed to wheedle them out of him. “There’s something strange about the woman.”
Duncan leaned forward again. “How so?”
“I don’t know. Other than she’s rough about the edges. No, it’s something else, but I can’t put my finger on it.”
Duncan smiled then quickly took a sip of brandy. “Perhaps you should find out what it is?”
“And how am I to do that?”
“Simple. Spend more time with her.”
Aldrich rolled his eyes. “You’re the most infuriating sort of matchmaker, Sayer. Why not have me escort her to a ball?”
“Excellent idea.”
“What? Are you out of your bloody mind?” Aldrich said in alarm.
Duncan smiled slyly.
Aldrich was about to take another sip of his brandy and stopped. “What have you done?”
“Cozette has decided to have a house party.”
Aldrich groaned. “Oh bloody hell.”
Duncan sat back in his chair. “Don’t worry, I’ll not allow her to go armed this time.”
Aldrich smirked then smiled. “Though the last time was entertaining.”
“That was a long ago,” Duncan reminded him.
“But the ton still talks about it.”
“Let them talk. The party is in eight days. I’m charging you with having Miss Phelps ready for it.”
“Me? What am I? A nursemaid?”
“No, an instructor,” Duncan said, his voice stern. “As Miss Phelps tutors my wife, you can tutor Miss Phelps.”
“Great Scott, you are out of your mind,” Aldrich stood.
“What’s the matter? Afraid you can’t do it?”
“Not at all. Of course I can do it.”
“Good, I’m glad you agree.”
“I did not agree!”
“But
you like her,” Duncan said simply.
Aldrich snapped his mouth shut. He did like her, and the thought of poor Miss Phelps dealing with some of the ton made his chest tighten. They’d destroy her. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
“Good man. This is a job for a knight, you know. I need a fine warrior to protect my wife’s tutor.”
Aldrich shook his head in resignation. True, he came from a long line of warriors sworn to protect the nobility. But as an instructor to Miss Phelps?
Duncan raised his glass. “To the duchess’s house party.”
Aldrich slowly raised his own. “May we survive it.”
Their glasses clinked together in a toast. Aldrich hoped he wasn’t going to regret this. That thought in mind, he got up and poured himself another brandy.
* * *
“Do I what?” Tory asked in surprise.
“Dance,” Sir Aldrich said with a smile. “Kippers?”
She looked at the silver-serving tray full of oily looking fish. They’d been split and butterflied from head to tail along the dorsal ridge. She could handle trout, but wasn’t going to risk something new. “No, I don’t think so.” She picked up a pair of tongs and served herself some bacon instead.
He watched her and put several kippers on his plate. “The duchess serves some of the best jam in the county. Do try some.”
Tory took some eggs, followed by a piece of toast, and went to the table. She sat and waited for him to join her. “Where are their graces?”
Aldrich laughed. “Gone for a morning ride, I suspect. Hunting most likely.”
“Hunting? What is there to hunt around here?”
“Quail, pheasant, perhaps a wild boar.”
“A boar!”
“Yes, of course. They make a fine feast.”
“Well, so I’ve heard, but I’ve never thought to hunt one. It’s much easier to hit the meat counter at the grocery store.”
“Hit the counter?”
She scrunched up her face in surprise. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard that expression.”
“Hardly.”
