The Reclusive Duke

by Fenella J Miller

'No, the blame was mine. I have a quick temper and take offence easily. Please, Miss Sinclair, will you come inside with me? We need to talk.'

  'I should go after the children…'

  'No, you should not. That dog is more than capable of protecting them. Unless you run they will be so far ahead of you by now they will be home before you catch them up.'

  'You are right, your grace, and it's not as though they haven't been here on their own before. I will come in, but I must not stay long.'

  Bates was now pushing him round to the side door through which he was obliged to enter and exit whilst in his chair and she was walking beside him.

  'Good heavens, Miss Sinclair, to stay above fifteen minutes would be a gross breach of etiquette as we are both aware.'

  Her smile changed her face from ordinary to quite beautiful. 'And to be closeted alone with a gentleman to whom one is not related would be even worse in the eyes of the ton.'

  'We shall converse on the terrace as I'm quite sure that will break no rules.'

  He was at a decided disadvantage being trundled along like a sack in a barrow, but at that moment he wouldn't change a thing. Bates positioned him by the table as always. Refreshments were already laid out as he had intended to invite them all to remain for tea.

  As she brushed past him he was able to detect the scent of rose and lemon drifting from her shiny tresses.

  'As I expected the children to be joining us you will be unsurprised to discover the refreshments are somewhat unusual.'

  She laughed, a lovely natural sound and one he hoped to hear again. 'Richard and Emma will be disappointed to have missed this feast. Scones, strawberry conserve, a variety of cakes plus lemonade and buttermilk. All favourites of theirs. I'm sure we shall enjoy the treats ourselves.' She picked up a plate and gestured towards the table. 'What would you like?'

  'Whatever you care to give me, my dear, I am unused to eating at this time of day and can't remember the last time I had a cake or pastry of any sort.'

  Bates had politely stepped away but she beckoned him over. 'I should like coffee and bring whatever his grace would prefer.'

  She gave the order with a natural grace and dignity that surprised him; there was more to this girl than he had first thought.

  *

  Lydia's mouth remained unpleasantly dry after the scare Benji had given her. She was certain if she hadn't prevented it the animal would have savaged the duke. Was this the sort of dog to be a playmate to her charges?

  The last thing she wanted was food, but a glass of lemonade and then a coffee might restore her sufficiently to be able to discuss this matter with the autocratic gentleman beside her.

  After carefully splitting two scones and covering them with conserve and cream she handed him the plate. 'I am going to have lemonade before my coffee – do you wish to have the same?'

  'I've not drunk lemonade since I was a boy, but as the coffee has yet to arrive, I will join you in a glass.'

  She poured them both a drink and was pleased her hands didn't shake. Then she selected a chair a respectful distance from him, smoothed out the skirt of her gown, and sat down. 'I don't think we should keep Benji however much the children adore him. He was terrifying and I'm sure would have attacked you…'

  'Hounds are bred for their loyalty and fierceness, Miss Sinclair. He was doing his duty, he saw me as a physical threat to your safety and reacted accordingly. I can tell you with absolute certainty that your nieces, nephews and yourself, will come to no harm from him. Indeed, you can be sanguine that as long as Benji is with them they will be safe.'

  'That's all very well, your grace, but I've no wish for anyone else to be attacked because the dog believes he is protecting them. I fear the animal is unstable.'

  'I'm certain he is not. He has always been a follower, not a leader, was never completely happy as the underdog in my pack. He has found his true place in the world and will be your loyal companion for the next few years.'

  'Well, if you are sure that not only the children, but anyone they might meet, will be safe then I shall say no more about it.'

  The coffee arrived and she poured them both a welcome cup of this aromatic, bitter brew. The lemonade and a few sips of this restored her and she was now ready to indulge in some of the tasty treats set out on the table.

  Conversation turned, after discussion about the weather, the price of corn and other things, to the matter of the children's education.

  'I don't believe in confining children to endless study when the weather is fine. In the winter it is different and they are content to work all day at their letters and numbers. I am about to appoint a suitable governess – the interviews begin next week.'

  'When I was eight years old I was sent away to school…'

  'Richard is staying with me. I don't believe in such practices; I think it cruel and unpleasant for the child concerned.'

  His eyes flashed a warning and she hastily apologised for interrupting him.

  'I was not going to suggest that he did go away, I was merely telling you what happened to me. You are correct in assuming the experience was unpleasant – I certainly thought so.'

  'Good, I'm glad that we can agree on this. I thought that when he is ten years of age I would appoint a tutor so he could learn things that only a gentleman can teach. Until then I am content for him to have his lessons with his sister.'

  He nodded. 'I agree. I think it necessary to point out to you, Miss Sinclair, that I am the children's legal guardian. You must seek my consent to any changes you wish to make in their daily lives.'

  'Let me get this clear, your grace. Although you have no wish to be involved with them in any way, apart from providing the necessary funds for us to live a comfortable life, I need to ask your permission before I make any decisions on their behalf?'

  'I don't like children and don't see the necessity to have them constantly underfoot, but I do accept my responsibilities. I would not be doing my duty if I allowed you to let them run riot all over the country without stepping in to curtail this.'

  'I can assure you they are supervised at all times, if not by me, then by a nursemaid. I have asked Mr Digby to purchase them a pony each as I wish them to learn to ride. Does this meet with your approval, your grace?'

  'No, it does not. I shall organise this myself. You might not be aware, but I am an expert in horseflesh and run my own stud.'

  'I doubt that suitable mounts for my two would be found in such a place. However, if you insist, then I shall leave it to you to inform Mr Digby of the change of plan.' She deliberately didn't mention that his man of business was buying her a hack. She was quite sure if left to his grace she would have something quiet and steady – not at all what she required.

  The faint echo of the church clock striking four reminded her that she had been with him for almost an hour. Admittedly they had been sharing a delicious repast, and discussing important issues about the children, but she had overstayed her allotted time by a considerable amount.

  'I must go, your grace, and thank you for your hospitality.'

  For the first time since she had met him she thought he might be a gentleman she could like.

  'I bid you good afternoon, Miss Sinclair. When I have purchased the ponies, I shall have them sent to you. I take it you have renovated the stabling and appointed grooms to take care of the animals?'

  'The matter is in hand, your grace.' She stood up, shook the crumbs from her skirts, and nodded. She wasn't going to continue to curtsy to him as if she were a servant.

  She left via the terrace steps, and was about to cut across the grass to the drive when she saw a smart phaeton was awaiting her arrival.

  Two horses, matched chestnuts, looked around at her approach. The coachman bowed. 'His grace said this vehicle is to be at your disposal, miss, if you wish to go anywhere away from the Dower House. You have just to send word to the stables and I will be there within half an hour.'

  'That will be most useful. What is your name? If you ar
e to drive for me I need to know it.'

  'I am Jethro, miss. Pleased to be at your service.'

  Lydia climbed in unaided and settled back on the comfortable squabs well-satisfied with her meeting. Having such a smart equipage at her disposal was something she had never thought to have; it would make her journey to London so much easier.

  Chapter Seven

  The arrival of the seamstress and her two assistants the following morning was a cause of great excitement. Even the twins were eager to be measured for new garments and were happy to remain reasonably still for the required amount of time. Whilst the assistants and the nursemaid dealt with the children, Madam Ducray devoted her attention to Lydia.

  When she spoke to the lady in fluent French the deception was revealed. 'I beg your pardon, Miss Sinclair, somehow it is thought that the best dressmakers are from Paris so I adopted a false persona.'

  'As long as you are as good at your profession as I've been told, then I care not whether you are French or English.' Lydia picked up the colourful pile of fashion plates. 'Am I to select from these? I do admire the high waist, but I have no wish for flounces, rouleau, ribbons or bows all over my gowns.'

  'Very well, miss, I have noted that down. I have swatches of materials here; would you like to choose from the muslins first? These are ideal for daywear. I have silks, satins, organza, sarcenet, and other items which will be ideal for the evening.'

  The novelty of selecting patterns, materials and the necessary accoutrements to complement her new ensembles, rapidly faded as the day dragged by. The children were upstairs preparing for bed by the time she was left alone. She had chosen colours that would complement her dark hair and green eyes.

  She had no clear idea of what she had ordered as the patterns, materials and adornments blended one into the other after the first few hours. Madam Ducray had strict instructions to complete a riding habit first as she had every expectation of Mr Digby keeping to his promise and providing her with a riding horse in the next few days.

  Although she had done nothing strenuous she was more than ready to retire at ten o'clock.

  'When will your new gowns be ready, miss?' Beth, her newly appointed dresser, asked as she brushed Lydia's hair.

  'I didn't think to ask, but I expect the first one will arrive in a day or two. A Miss Fairbrother is coming tomorrow for an interview. Do I have something suitable to wear?'

  'I have already sponged and pressed the gown you wore when you visited his grace the other day. Would you like me to arrange your hair differently? If I braid it and put it around your head in a coronet, I believe you will look older.'

  'That's an excellent notion, Beth. From the information I garnered about this candidate, Miss Fairbrother is in her thirties, which makes her considerably older than I am.'

  'Are you sending the pony cart to collect her from the coaching inn?'

  'No, I have arranged for the phaeton to do that. It will make a good impression on her. I have already inspected the accommodation she will use if she is appointed and am satisfied she could have no complaints there.'

  'I should think not, miss. All the staff here are ever so well looked after – I doubt even those at the big house do better than we do.'

  The next morning the children had been told to stay close to the house so they could be called in to wash and change an hour before the governess was expected to arrive. Lydia had written out the list of questions she intended to ask, and also a list of rules that whoever was appointed must adhere to. The most important of these was that no physical punishment must be used. She did not believe that beating children did anything to improve their behaviour or temperament.

  She intended to make the interview as informal as possible. The candidate was more likely to relax and show her true character when walking about the garden, admiring the house and avoiding being slobbered on by Benji.

  The children had been instructed to behave normally, but not to do anything that would upset Miss Fairbrother. After the informal part of the process everyone would go inside for refreshments. Then the children could change and run off to play whilst she conducted the interview itself.

  The young woman duly arrived and Lydia took an instant dislike to her. She was supercilious, snapped at the children and shrieked with horror when the dog came over to investigate. There was no point in continuing the process and the unsuitable governess was dispatched without the bother of the formal interview.

  'You won't appoint her will you, Aunt Lydia?' Emma asked.

  'Of course not, sweetheart, nobody liked her. I sincerely hope Miss Stevens, who is coming tomorrow morning, will be a better choice. It's impossible to tell a person's character from a letter alone.'

  This was not quite true – anyone seeing the duke's handwriting would know at once he was an autocratic aristocrat.

  *

  Everett watched the two pretty Exmoor ponies trot by and nodded. 'They will do. Get a stable lad to ride them before they are taken over to the Dower House. I want to be certain neither animal has any vices.'

  He had learned to ride on an Exmoor pony himself, and knew them to be kind, reliable beasts. He would have liked to have visited them in their previous home, but knew them to have been the loving pets of his nearest neighbours' children and the family had been reluctant to part with them until now. With luck, they would remain sound for another ten years allowing the twins to learn to ride on them when they were old enough to do so.

  He was hoping there was something in his own stables that would do perfectly for their aunt. He spent the remainder of the morning having his horses paraded in front of him, including anything suitable from his stud.

  'No, there's nothing here that will do. Brown, I want a riding horse for Miss Sinclair – nothing too excitable and not above fifteen hands either.'

  His head groom nodded. 'I know of a pretty grey mare for sale – I was thinking of purchasing her to breed from. Shall I have her brought over for you to inspect, your grace?'

  'Do that. Do it today. I want the ponies and a mount for Miss Sinclair to be delivered at the same time.'

  Satisfied he had done all he could to expedite matters he got Bates to push him back to his study. He'd approved the guest list he had been shown and the invitations had been sent out. The house was in turmoil, something he would normally have disliked. However, he was rather enjoying seeing the place made ready for the visitors.

  He was happy to endure the constant racket of labourers, carpenters and suchlike refurbishing and redecorating where necessary. The curtains in the main reception rooms had been removed, sponged and were in the process of being rehung. Such trivia would not normally interest him, but he was determined to be involved with everything.

  An army of journeymen, employed from the local villages, were cleaning windows, pruning hedges and weeding flower beds. He was determined not to have his ancestral home criticised for being in disrepair when his neighbours came to visit for the first time in many years.

  Although still forbidden to use his crutches, so he could not see himself upright, he had begun to take an interest in his appearance after many years of neglect. He had had his hair cut short, was clean-shaven and his eyes were slowly regaining the sparkle they had once had. He was several stones lighter than he had been before the accident, but there was little he could do about that now. Once he was walking again he would do everything he could to improve his stamina and fitness. He was an unmarried duke, and therefore the most desirable bachelor in the country. Nevertheless, when he made his choice he wanted the fortunate young lady to marry him because she found him desirable, not just because of who he was.

  He approved the purchase of the grey mare and arranged for the three animals to be taken to the Dower House the following day. He had no doubt they would be received with delight and he was eagerly anticipating a visit from the children and their carer to thank him for his generosity.

  When he saw the phaeton leave for the third day in a row he was sufficiently
intrigued to enquire as to why it was needed so often. Digby came to answer his summons.

  'Miss Sinclair is interviewing for a governess for the older children, your grace. Today will be the third and final candidate. Jethro, the coachman, is keeping me fully informed. It seems there was a fourth but that candidate has withdrawn. So far she has rejected the others so let us hope this third young lady is considered suitable.'

  'I wish I had known this before, Digby, I have sent the ponies and the mare over and they are likely to arrive at the same time as the governess.'

  'You have purchased a mount for Miss Sinclair? I thought… never mind.'

  'Out with it, man. Why are you looking so perturbed?'

  'I too have been tasked with finding Miss Sinclair a hack. The gelding I purchased will also be arriving today.'

  'God's teeth! You should have spoken to me before doing so. The gelding will have to be returned from whence it came. I wish her to ride the horse I selected. It will be chaos at the Dower House today.'

  'I'm sure Miss Sinclair and the children will be able to deal with whatever occurs, your grace. I have found all of them, including the little ones, exceptionally intelligent.'

  Not for the first time Everett cursed under his breath that he was so incapacitated. He would dearly like to be there to see how the annoying young lady dealt with the arrival of not one, but four equines, plus the prospective governess.

  He was damned if he was going to moulder in this bath chair a moment longer. 'Bates, take me inside and then bring me my crutches.'

  This time the young man did not prevaricate – a wise decision on his part as Everett was in no mood to be gainsaid.

  He had practised standing on his good leg several times. He had also hopped about the place holding onto the furniture and was certain he was strong enough to use the crutches, whatever his physician might think about the matter.

  With Bates close at hand in case he needed assistance, Everett tucked the objects under his arms. Within a few swings, he had mastered the art and was able to move freely about the room with no discomfort at all.