by Diana Quincy
“No doubt so His Grace can stare at himself all day long in all manner of activity.” The tart words were out of Isabel’s mouth before she could think to censor them. She castigated herself for her lack of tact. Her inability to curb her tongue was why she was now a governess, despite having grown up in luxury with a bevy of servants at hand.
The butler stared at her, his shock apparent, and made a choking sound. And she could have sworn John, the footman, suppressed a muffled laugh.
The duke’s hooded gaze searched hers out, his voice low and silky. “And what do you know of my private activities?”
Her stomach twisted at the unexpected change in the duke’s countenance; his expression became inviting, his tone insinuating. That was when comprehension finally slammed into Isabel. Suddenly she saw the bed-like chaises, wall-to-ceiling mirrors, and ceiling swing in an entirely new, and repugnant, light.
Revulsion rippled through her. Surely, he didn’t watch himself while…in the act…with his light skirts. And why were there so many chaises? The legend of his scandalous parties had reached Cornwall, but she’d never fathomed his routs could be so wanton that attendees engaged in certain intimacies in full view of their fellow guests. She inhaled a shocked breath. Everyone knew Sinful Sunny was depraved, but this was well beyond anything she’d ever imagined.
“Putting it all together, are you?” murmured the duke. Instead of being ashamed, the man actually had the cheek to sound amused. “Perhaps you’d care to join us one evening.”
“Absolutely not!” She eyed the loathsome man with disgust. “Even the swing is not for innocent play, is it?”
“Nothing about me is innocent.” One corner of his mouth quirked upward. “Would you like to see how the swing is best used? It is a demonstration that requires two people.” His disgusting gaze slid down the length of her body, filling Isabel with the urge to jump into the closest tub of steaming water to cleanse herself of that insinuating look.
She swung away from him, nausea churning in her stomach. “Prudence!” She practically screamed at the girl. “Get off that swing this instant. Now! Now!” She dashed over to pull the child off the contraption. She couldn’t get the children away from this abhorrent chamber quickly enough.
“But why?” Prudence stumbled as Isabel shepherded both children toward the door. “Sunderford hasn’t told us yet what he does in this chamber.”
“It is none of our concern.” She placed a firm hand on the girl’s shoulder to steady her while still keeping both children marching for the exit. “Out we go.”
“And make sure they stay out,” the duke called from behind her. “We wouldn’t want them wandering in whilst I am entertaining.”
Outrage fired in her belly. He planned to continue his debauched routs? Even with his young, innocent charges in residence? She paused only long enough to shoot him another appalled look, then followed the children out of the room and slammed the door hard behind her.
Chapter 4
Unfortunately, Finch didn’t leave him alone for long. The following morning, she invaded the breakfast room whilst he was attempting to enjoy the lavish spread Cook had laid out in honor of his return from Cornwall. Mrs. Kellet, who’d been with his family for as long as Sunny could remember, enjoyed spoiling him with an abundance of his favorite foods.
“A word, Your Grace.” The harridan paused by the door, this morning wearing some pale green shade that was a welcome departure from the sullen gowns she seemed to prefer. “If you please.”
Suppressing a sigh, he popped a liver into his mouth. “What is it, Finch?”
“I was wondering if you and Lord Abel settled the matter of the children.”
He cut into a chop. “Unfortunately not. My uncle is quite insistent they remain in my care.”
Her face fell. “Oh.”
He reached for his ale. “Come now, Finch, no need to look as though someone has drowned your favorite puppy.”
“It is not the outcome I’d hoped for,” she said glumly.
“Nor I, I assure you.” He tossed some ale down his throat. “I will continue to search for an alternative solution. Until then, I’m afraid, we are stuck with one another.”
Dowding, who’d been standing at attention by the sideboard, shifted. An almost imperceptible movement, but Sunny noted it, and he knew it signaled the butler believed something was not as it should be. “What is it, Dowding?”
“Your Grace?”
“When you move about like that, you have something on your mind, what is it?”
The butler flushed. “Nothing to concern yourself with, Your Grace. However, I was wondering whether Miss Finch would care for some breakfast.”
Sunny cast a skeptical look at the nursemaid. Surely, she had no interest in breaking bread with him. And she was a servant. Well, a governess, but it was practically the same. Some governesses took meals with the family, but his certainly never had.
Not that his old governess had missed much. The fourth duke had been a cold, punctilious bastard given to ruling with iron composure. He’d placed duty, status, and public decorum above all else, and pounding those principles into his only son and heir had occupied much of his time. Not that the effort had done much good.
Sunny addressed the dowd. “Do you wish to partake?” he asked grudgingly, fully expecting her to decline and leave him in peace to enjoy his livers and chops. “Or,” he prompted, “have you already taken your morning meal?”
Her gaze dropped to his gilded porcelain plate. “Is that liver?”
“Indeed it is.” Hopefully she detested liver.
“I adore liver.” She smiled sweetly at Dowding. “Perhaps just a spoonful or two.”
Sunny did his best to hide his scowl as she glided over to the sideboard, removed the silver-domed lid, and spooned a large helping of his liver onto her plate. She strolled away from the food and took the seat at the opposite end of the mahogany breakfast table, as far away from Sunny as possible, which amused him.
Good, he thought, keep yourself and those brats well out of my way. Swallowing another large gulp of ale, he again wondered how in Hades he’d allowed himself to end up in this predicament.
The shrew forked a morsel of liver into her mouth. “Mmm, this is delicious,” she said once she’d finished chewing. “Mr. Dowding, please do extend my most sincere compliments to Mrs. Kellet.”
The butler beamed as if the queen herself had bestowed a knighthood on him. “Very good, Miss Finch,” he said with a respectful tip of his head. “I most certainly will. She’ll be very pleased to hear it.”
Sunny resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “You may leave us, Dowding,” he said sharply, unable to bear another moment of his butler fawning over the nursemaid.
The shrew smiled at Dowding. “Please inform Mrs. Kellet that I’ll be down to discuss the children’s meals once I’m finished here.”
“As you wish, Miss Finch,” the butler said before disappearing out of the room and closing the door gently behind him.
Sunny stared at Finch as she enthusiastically attacked the liver and chops on her plate, his mind rolling over the way she’d commanded Dowding and her apparent meetings with Mrs. Kellet. It was as if she were settling in and becoming comfortable here, putting her own stamp on things.
That would never do.
She continued to eat, the silence hanging over the breakfast room—except for the scrape of her silver utensils against the porcelain plate—did not appear to discomfit her in the least. His irritation grew until finally he cleared his throat.
She looked up from her plate askance. “Is there something further you wish to say, Your Grace?”
“Yes. Don’t get too comfortable here. You won’t be staying.”
She raised a snowy white linen napkin to her mouth and patted delicately. “You say Lord Abel won’t take us back, and h
e has found no one else who is suitable to act as the children’s guardian.”
He gritted his teeth. “That is true.”
She set her napkin down and rose. “The children need stability. As there seems to be no suitable alternative arrangement, we all must adjust to the situation.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask what you mean by that.”
“I have given this a great deal of thought,” she said, her voice firm. “This is the girls’ home now. As their ducal guardian, you will be able to ensure their rightful status in society.”
Her newfound sanguinity about their current, very unsatisfactory, living arrangements took him aback. “I see you’ve given this a great deal of thought.”
“I have,” she said crisply. “I am most determined to make the best of things for the girls.”
“Are you now?” The liver he’d consumed felt sour in his stomach.
“Yes. Although our current situation is far from ideal, even I can see you possess the resources to provide the sort of education and social polish the great-granddaughters of a duke deserve.”
“You are aware of my reputation, are you not? Sinful Sunny is not a person who should be entrusted with the raising of two respectable, well-bred young ladies.”
“Nonetheless, I’ve been reassured you are a man of honor who will live up to his obligations.”
“Who the devil told you that?” he spat out. “Uncle Abel? He’s very wrong. He has no notion of the person I am now. All he remembers is the green little boy I used to be.” An earnest, morally correct boy who’d been determined to follow his father’s faultless example. Until the day in his eighteenth year when he’d witnessed for himself that his father’s behavior was far from faultless.
“Your uncle has placed his faith in you, and I know Lord Abel to be a discerning man.”
Intent on wiping the complacent expression off the nanny’s unremarkable visage, he said, “You’ve seen my playroom. I entertain there nightly. Often with more than one woman at a time.”
To his satisfaction, a sudden shot of color added life to her pallid cheeks. “That was before the children came into your care,” she said carefully. “You have new responsibilities now, to see to the girls’ gentle upbringing. And when the time comes, you’ll see to it that they have a Come-Out and dowry worthy of their station.”
“Good lord,” he burst out, unable to contain himself. “You expect to remain here—you and those little monsters—until they marry?” That was years from now. His youth, and all of the revels that came with it, would be well and truly shot by then.
“But of course,” she replied mildly. “You are their guardian, after all.” She gave a quick curtsy. “If you will excuse me, Your Grace, I’ll go and speak with Mrs. Kellet about today’s meals for the nursery.”
As he watched her go, realization settled over him. The harpy intended to take him in hand in the same manner in which she managed her charges. She thought to settle in, order his staff about, and rearrange matters at Sunderford House to her liking.
His gaze dropped to his plate, where the uneaten liver and chops began to look appetizing again. He stabbed a liver with his fork and popped it into his mouth, chewing slowly, savoring the strong, gamey taste.
It would not do for the nanny to become too comfortable at Sunderford House. She must learn that he was master here and not some green boy who needed to be brought to heel. He sat back in his chair, a huge grin opening up across his face.
And he knew just how to teach her that lesson.
* * *
—
“Good night, my loves.” Isabel gently closed the door to the nursery behind her. Prudie and Patience were bathed and settled into bed for the evening. She paused outside their door to stretch her cramped neck muscles.
The last few days of settling into Sunderford House had taken a great deal of effort, but things were finally beginning to fall into place. It was well past time to reestablish a routine for the children. She wandered down the corridor into the old schoolroom where the children’s daily lessons would soon resume.
A large wooden table surrounded by ladder-backed chairs dominated the otherwise plain space. Massive windows at the far end of the chamber provided ample light and fresh air during the day. The space had been in dire need of cleaning and airing out when she’d first laid eyes on it. Fortunately, despite the duke being a useless degenerate, his staff was well trained and, at Isabel’s request, had efficiently dusted and polished the schoolroom.
Isabel had been sincere when she’d told the duke she intended to make the best of things. The children were her primary concern. They’d already lost so much in their young lives, their parents and two guardians, and she was determined to protect them from further deprivation. She must make Sunderford House a true home for them. She really had no other choice.
The duke might be a rake and reprobate, but he must possess at least a modicum of decency. For some unfathomable reason, his staff seemed particularly devoted to the man. One of the housemaids who’d come to clean the nursery earlier in the day had reassured Isabel that the duke never dallied with the servants, although—the girl had giggled through this part—more than a few of the maids were more than willing to give the duke a tumble.
“His Grace is still easy on the eyes, even if he’s not the sportsman he used to be,” the girl, Magda, had sighed. “You should have seen him before, when he was younger, he was the handsomest gent that ever was. I saw him without his shirt once, when he was fencing, and it was a sight to behold. I’ve never seen muscles like that before or since.”
If she were to be objective, Isabel understood exactly what Magda was saying. With his height, strong, proud features, silver eyes, and enviable bone structure, Sunderford had the makings of true beauty, but he’d apparently squandered his looks on women, drinking, and a decadent lifestyle.
Closing the door behind her, Isabel wandered down the corridor. She needed to speak to the duke about purchasing supplies for the schoolroom. She would see to buying them, of course, but he needed to approve the expenditure.
She had not seen His Grace all day. He was like a vampire—sleeping all day and only coming out at night. He’d left the house the past two evenings. Good, she thought with hopeful satisfaction, at least he knew enough to take his scandalous behavior out of this house and away from the girls. She didn’t care where he went or what he did—his depraved private affairs were none of her concern—as long as he kept his debauched goings-on far from the girls.
But this evening, she noted, he’d not yet gone out. She hurried down the stairs from the third floor, eager to catch him before he left for the night. She found the earnest-looking young footman named John on duty near the second-floor landing.
“Good evening,” she said. “Have you seen His Grace?”
“He is in his…erm”—the footman’s sizable ears turned bright red—“playroom.”
“Please do not be discomfited,” she reassured the young man. “I do know that particular chamber exists.” She started in that direction; in the two days since the duke’s return from Cornwall, she’d noticed that he spent hours alone in the repugnant chamber. As she approached the room, however, it became obvious that the duke had company.
Laughter and a tinkle of conversation emanated from the playroom. Several voices, not just one or two. She frowned, dread trickling down her back. There was no doubt he was entertaining, but surely not…
When she reached the door, it opened and the duke’s head poked out into the hallway. “More champagne, John,” he called to the footman.
“Very good, Your Grace,” John answered and hurried down the stairs.
The vile man was about to withdraw back within when he spotted Isabel. “Ah, Finch.” His eyes lit up. “Looking for me?”
“Yes.” Distaste rolled in her stomach. “But it can wait as
you are obviously otherwise occupied.”
“Perhaps you’d care to join us?” He wore a loosely belted red silk banyan that exposed a broad chest dusted with dark hair. He opened the door wider, allowing her a clear view into the room.
Against her better judgment, Isabel looked past the duke for a glimpse into his depraved world. At first glance, the guests appeared perfectly respectable. Some were playing billiards while others were lounging on the couches. But then one man turned his back to her, and Isabel’s eyes widened.
The man, young and well-built, wore trousers so tight they might as well have been painted on, but that was the least scandalous part of his attire. When he turned, two large holes in the seat of the trousers became apparent, each one exposing a white, round naked buttock.
The duke’s mouth was suddenly close to her ear. “Only, if you join us, as you can see, you cannot attend dressed as you are.”
Shocked, her gaze jumped to one of the ladies reclining on a couch. The woman wore a respectable gown that was obviously expensive, except that most of her plump fleshy breasts were completely exposed.
The duke’s warm, moist breath was in her ear again. “Each guest is required to bare the part of his or her anatomy they deem to be the most interesting.”
She was too stunned to move. The scene before her bombarded all of her senses. Everyone in attendance was indeed exhibiting some part of his or her body. Some men were entirely shirtless, one woman’s dress was indecently short, exposing long, smooth legs; another wore a gown with the waist cut out, baring her navel and pale, flat stomach. Another was in a gown that exposed the satiny curves of both of her shoulders. But what shook Isabel from her stupor was the man playing billiards, who had a hole directly…
“That’s Stenton.” The duke’s amused voice drifted over her. “As you can see, he’s quite the braggart. Very proud of his endowments, he is.”
Revolted, she spun away, pain shooting through her shoulder when she slammed into the doorframe as she stumbled into the corridor. “You are despicable,” she sputtered at him.
