The Duke of Fire: Regency Hearts Book 1

by Jennifer Monroe

  The boy smiled. “Do you believe so, Miss Harcourt?” he asked, his eyes so innocent that they warmed her heart. “I think Father was pleased.”

  Jane brushed back his hair and took his small hand in her own. “Samuel, it was the grandest recital any of my students have ever done. Your father is very proud of you, and I know I am, as well.”

  “I’m glad we didn't have to eat with everyone,” Samuel said thoughtfully. “I think I would grow bored having to bow to everyone. There are a lot of people to bow to, you know.” He said this with such authority, that Jane let out a small laugh.

  “You are right, I suppose. One day, when you are much older, you will marry and then host your own parties. There will be lots of bowing then.”

  “That’s true,” he said with a yawn. “Then one day I will be a Duke. But I promise that if I host a party, you will be invited.” He was firm in this statement, and Jane could only smile at his naivety. “I will let everyone know that Miss Harcourt is my best of friends, and she can sit near me.”

  Jane rustled his hair and then leaned over to kiss his forehead. “That is very kind of you, Samuel. I look forward to receiving your invitation. Now,” she said, rising from the bed, “it is time for you to get some sleep.”

  He sighed as though she requested of him a task so great, the idea of it was simply unbearable. “Miss Harcourt, can I tell you something?”

  “Of course. What would you like to tell me?”

  He sat up in bed as he bit at his lower lip. It was obvious something was bothering the boy. “Would you speak to Father and ask him not to let me go to Uncle Robert’s anymore? I don't like him or Aunt Catherine.”

  Jane scrunched her brow, for this was not the first time the boy had spoken negatively of his aunt and uncle. Retaking her seat at the side of the bed, she patted the pillow and he lay back.

  “Now, Samuel, why would you say such a thing? They both care for you deeply and only want to spend time with you.”

  “You know how you told me it was rude to listen to adults talk? Ease droppings?”

  Jane smiled, a shake coming to her head. “Eavesdropping?”

  “Yes, that’s it. Well, I eavesdropped on them when I was over there last month. Aunt Catherine said that soon my uncle would be the Duke. But that cannot be true because Father is the Duke and there can only be one, I think.”

  Jane's mind raced as she wondered what the two could have been talking about to bring on such a discussion. The only way Robert would become Duke of Hayfield was if both Michael and Samuel both died. However, Michael’s health was fine, and Samuel had many years ahead of him.

  When she saw the look on Samuel’s face, she reminded herself that he was only a child. Perhaps he had eavesdropped on a conversation mid-discussion, or recalled only bits of it. “I believe there is nothing about which to worry,” she assured him. “Your father is the Duke and shall remain so for many, many years to come. Now, do you feel better?”

  “I do,” he said with another large yawn. “Thank you, Miss Harcourt, you always make me feel better.”

  “You are most certainly welcome,” she said, rising from the bed and picking up the candlestick. “Goodnight and dream of more rabbits.”

  He laughed and she walked to the door and then looked back at him. The boy was simply adorable, and the thought of one day being his mother made her happy. Closing the door behind her, she thought she saw movement near the Duke's room.

  Perhaps he needs to change his coat, she thought as she crossed the hall to her own room. Letting out a sigh, she closed the door, and then a few moments later, began to change out of her dress. She had loved the way Michael smiled at her, his eyes relaying what was on his heart. It was love, pure and simple, but she saw something else, as well—a desire for them both to be together as husband and wife. One day the question would arise and Jane would be required to give him an answer.

  As she placed the dress on the bed, a knock came to the door, and before she could answer, Catherine hurried in.

  Catherine,” Jane gasped as she pulled her dressing gown to her breast.

  “Jane, there is no time to talk. The Duke has requested your presence in the ballroom, and I believe he means to introduce you as the one he is courting.”

  Jane’s heart soared as much as it fell. “I do not understand,” she said as the woman tried to pull her nightdress over her head. “He told me he wished to wait for him to quell the rumors about the fire before we announced our courtship.”

  The woman placed her hands on Jane’s shoulders. “My dear, there is no time to ponder men and their ways,” she said wisely. “Now, fix your hair quickly while I ready your gown.”

  Jane nodded vaguely and moved to stand before the mirror. Her hair was still up from earlier, but some had come loose with the changing of clothing.

  “Now, hurry,” Catherine demanded, as if getting Jane out of the room was a matter of life or death. “You must never keep a Duke waiting.”

  The woman helped Jane into the gown, Jane grateful that she had someone to help her with the multitude of tiny buttons that closed up the back. “Excellent. Now, we can add just a hint of rouge and the tiniest amount of color to your lips.” She stepped back to assess her handiwork. “Well, you will not be Queen of the ball, but I imagine all eyes will be on you nonetheless.”

  Although Jane was directly behind her in the hallway, Catherine insisted on continued speed. “You cannot make him wait,” she insisted once more.

  As they made their way down the hall, they passed the Duke’s bedroom. The door was open and Jane was not surprised to see Dalton inside. Although the candles in the room had yet to be lit, his eyes shone by the lights in the hall, piercing into her as they walked by, and she shivered. What was that man up to?

  Well, he is Michael’s valet,” she thought to herself. It is no business of mine.

  With hurried footsteps, they rushed down the stairs, the music and voices growing louder with each step. She had warned Michael that it would be best if she did not attend, but he had become much bolder since realizing his worth.

  Then her mind turned to Samuel and what he had told her concerning his uncle and aunt, followed by Dalton’s sinister gaze, and she cast a glance over at Catherine. The woman wore a crooked smile that bled malevolence.

  “Catherine?” Jane said as they neared the ballroom, and she saw Michael standing beside Robert. “Are you certain this is what he wishes?”

  Catherine pulled a pin from her hair, shook out several strands and allowed them to fall in a disheveled look. Then she quickly reached out and grabbed Jane’s arm so hard that Jane almost screamed in pain.

  “It matters not what he wishes,” Catherine spat. “It is what I wish that matters.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The ball was progressing perfectly. The melodious music played, drink flowed freely, and the guests danced and laughed. From Barons to Dukes, Baronesses to Duchesses, men and women smiled and congratulated Michael on this, his first ball in a very long time, and although they might still take a second glance when they looked at his face, they no longer grimaced. At least not where he could see. It was a start. Michael made a point of speaking to every guest in attendance so they could see he had nothing to hide; however, he was certain they still spoke behind their hands or off in far corners, but if they no longer openly ogled him, he was making progress. He was not foolish enough to believe that these changes would come about because of the goodness of the hearts of those of the ton. He had too much wealth and offered too many business opportunities for them to ignore him any longer. New beginnings nonetheless.

  “I must admit, this ball has gone far better than I thought it would,” Robert said from beside Michael as yet another important member of society walked away.

  “You doubted me, Brother?”

  “Not you,” he replied, “but your memory.”

  Michael felt a twinge of sadness. He had hoped to put aside thoughts of his impending madness, at least fo
r one evening, for, as Jane had told him once, “Live for the day at hand and not for the morrow.” She always had extraordinary words of wisdom to impart. How he loved her for that.

  Robert must have sensed Michael’s reluctance, for he did something Michael had never recalled him doing at any time in his life. He apologized.

  “I am sorry for doubting you, Michael,” he said. It took much for Michael not to gape at the man. “I hope you know that I care for you and Samuel and have only ever had your best interests in mind.”

  Moved beyond belief, Michael clapped the man on the back. “From the day Elizabeth left me, you have given me great counsel. For that, I am always in your debt.”

  “You are my brother. If you cannot trust your brother, who can you trust?”

  Michael smiled. He did not say aloud that he would trust Jane.

  Again, Robert seemed to read Michael’s thoughts. “As to that woman. Though it pains me to say it, I must admit that perhaps my suspicions about her were unfounded. I must admit, however, that I still worry about her motives, but I will hold my tongue concerning her since she seems to make you so happy.”

  “You have no idea how your words comfort me,” Michael said with all honesty. Although he wished to share with the man his true feelings—which were beyond happy—he decided to wait. Now was not the time. Once they were officially courting, then he could share with the entire world. However, for the time being, he kept silent.

  It was the reason Jane had not attended this evening, and he had agreed it had been the right thing to do. Granted, to have her at his side during such a momentous occasion would have pleased him no end, but the wisdom of her decision had convinced him that what she said was right. Tonight was his night to stand alone, and as to the ton, he cared not about what they thought, but soon—very soon—she would be introduced as his fiancée.

  “You will see that you were indeed wrong about Jane,” he said. “She is a woman of substance with a kind heart.”

  Robert nodded, but his features expressed some bit of reluctance.

  “What must I do to convince you that she is an honest and caring woman?” Michael asked. He gave a laugh when Robert frowned. “Just you wait and see…”

  Robert was not looking at Michael but rather was looking past him. “What is going on?” He pointed at something behind Michael. “Look!”

  Michael turned to see Catherine stalking into the ballroom, her hair disheveled and her face screwed up in anger. She had Jane in tow, gripping the woman’s arm so tightly that Jane grimaced in pain.

  “Catherine, what is the meaning of this?” Robert demanded in a harsh whisper. “And why have you brought this…servant…into my brother’s ball? Do you not know that you are embarrassing not only me, but him, as well?”

  Michael studied Jane’s face before turning to Catherine just as Dalton walked up behind her. “Your Grace,” he said, giving Michael a deep bow that almost doubled him, “I left to check in on Samuel, and I heard a noise coming from your room. When I saw Lady Blackstone passing by in the hallway, I informed her of what I saw.”

  Catherine then took up the telling. “That was when I went to the room and I found this woman there slipping something into her pocket.”

  “That is not true!” Jane shouted, wide-eyed and gaping. She gave Michael a beseeching look and shot a glare at Catherine. “I did no such thing.”

  Catherine spun around. “How dare you call me a liar, servant!” She said the word as if it were a bitterness on her tongue. Then she turned to Michael. “I went to confront her and she pulled my hair and attempted to strike me! I have never…” tears rolled down her face as humiliation overcame her, “been handled in such a way!”

  Robert went to console his wife. “What did you find in her pocket?” he asked consolingly.

  Catherine gave a derisive sniff. “I did not search her, for I did not feel it was my place.”

  The room had become quiet, the only noise the quiet shuffles of the guests as they strained to see and hear whatever drama was unfolding, much like a pup straining to reach the teat that would give it sustenance. A mortification Michael had never experienced, even after hearing of the rumors surrounding his wife’s death, hit him. This could not be true! Jane would never steal from him!

  However, doubt trickled through him. What if Robert had been right all this time? Could Jane have been attempting to ingratiate herself into his life in order to get her hands on his wealth?

  Michael studied Jane, who had suddenly gone quiet. “Jane, why were you in my room?” he asked quietly.

  Tears rolled down her cheeks as she stared at the floor. “I was not.”

  “Your Grace?”

  Michael turned to his valet. “What is it, Dalton?”

  “I apologize for speaking out, but Lady Blackstone speaks the truth. I saw it with my own eyes as this woman struck her.”

  Excited whispers resounded through the room, but Michael ignored them.

  Robert stepped forward, his face twisted in anger. “There is only one way to find out the truth and defend my wife’s honor, for no one shall name her a liar!”

  Michael went to respond, fearing what his brother would do. Before he could take more than a step forward, Robert reached into Jane’s pocket and pulled out the very necklace that he had offered her only weeks earlier—Elizabeth’s silver necklace with the sapphire pendant.

  A collective gasp resonated off the walls.

  “I did not put that there!” Jane cried.

  “Quiet!” Catherine hissed. “You have been caught red-handed!”

  The world began to spin as Robert placed the necklace into Michael’s hand.

  “Do you not recall,” Robert said in a hushed voice, “that I told you how she bragged to my wife about this piece of jewelry? And what of the number of dresses she ordered? I warned you from the very first day I met her that this woman was trouble, did I not?”

  Michael felt numb as he nodded. He did remember, but he had ignored his brother’s warnings time and time again. Shame and humiliation tentacled through the numbness, soon replaced by hot anger. The woman who would not look up at him, appearing all innocence, but who showed confidence later. Her refusal of the carriage and any gifts he had tried to give. The reluctance to purchase new dresses only to order many. All of that he had dismissed, for he cared for her. He had been foolish to believe it had been because he had convinced her of her own worth when it was all a ruse. Robert had been right all along; she had used him to get to his wealth.

  “Jenkins,” he said in a cold, firm voice, “escort Miss Harcourt to her room to collect her belongings and then arrange for a driver to send her away from here.” Then he paused and added, “The dresses remain. She leaves only with that which she came.” He turned to Jane and pushed away the stab of regret that tried to infiltrate his heart. “I trusted you in my home—and with my son. You have broken that trust. Do not ever return.”

  Robert stepped up and whispered in Michael’s ear, “I can send for the magistrate, Brother. Send this woman to prison where she belongs!”

  “No,” Michael said. “That will not be necessary. All I want is her out of my home…and my life.”

  “No!” Jane shouted. “Michael…Your Grace, please, do not doubt me! I did not take the necklace!”

  Jenkins walked over and grabbed Jane by the arm.

  “Goodbye, Miss Harcourt,” Michael said before turning his back on her. He could hear the woman’s sobs as Jenkins removed her from the room, and he closed his eyes until he could no longer hear her.

  When he opened his eyes, he stared into the faces of all of his guests. Many looked away, but most attempted to hide their shock, no doubt filing away all they had seen and heard so they could wag their tongues later. For six years, he had hidden himself away from these people and their harsh gossip. Now that he had built up the courage to face them once again, that courage had been stripped from him all in one night. How would he ever be able to live through his humiliation th
is time?

  ***

  Never had Jane walked a path of humiliation so great as she did that night as she followed Jenkins out of the ballroom. Casting a glance behind her, Michael still stood facing away from her, any hope of one last look now gone. Not only was her heart broken, but anger swept through her as Catherine gave her a sly smile, half hidden by her down-turned face. Samuel had been right all along; both Catherine and Robert were up to no good. To what extent they had mired themselves into their devious plans she did not know, but she feared for Michael and Samuel.

  Wiping at her eyes, she kept her head low. The murmur of voices as the guests spoke in charged whispers rang loud through the foyer as she and Jenkins made their way up the stairs. Once they reached her room, she cast a glance at the butler as he stood with his hands behind him beside the door.

  “I do not ask you to believe me,” she said. “I doubt anyone would. However, please watch Michael—that it, His Grace—for those close to him seek only to hurt him.”

  The man seemed to hesitate. Then he nodded. That was enough for her. “I will wait for you in the foyer, Miss Harcourt,” he said and then turned and walked away.

  She entered the room and closed the door behind her, taking a moment to take one last look at the room that had become her home these past few months. The candle was still beside her bed, its flame flickering and casting shadows around the room. Tears flowed unchecked down her face as she went to the wardrobe and removed the few items she owned, including the old blue silk dress.

  She removed the new dress and lovingly placed it on the bed before donning the old one. Although it was no longer in fashion, Michael had said it looked nice on her. At least she would have that memory.

  As she added the remainder of her items to her bag, she wondered at how quickly things could change. Just last night, she and Michael had professed their love for one another, and now she was leaving with no chance of ever seeing him again. Throwing her out of his home was one thing, but to turn his back on her publicly told her that he would never trust her or speak to her again. That thought alone hurt worse than anything else that had befallen her this night.