by Joyce Alec
“Of course, Miss Brown, of course. The library is at your disposal. Make use of it whenever you wish.” His eyes took in her form as she murmured her thanks and gracefully made her way from the room, suddenly aware of her womanly curves. Not only that, but her attentions to his children had only further endeared him to her. It seemed she was, in fact, a welcome addition to the Huntington estate.
4
Sarah soon settled in and, to her great delight, the children took to her almost immediately, having worked out their differences. There was no sign that her father knew of her whereabouts and, as the days passed, she thought of him less and less, becoming satisfied and happy with her new life. She enjoyed teaching the children their lessons, with Samuel especially proving to be a quick learner. In the afternoons, they enjoyed walks in the gardens, exploring the ponds or hunting for treasure in the woods. The weather was cold and frosty, nipping their ears and toes but they were not discouraged. On days when it was too wet to even take a step outside, Sarah and the children would build forts, put on performances with their puppet theater, or practice their dance steps. She had heard that the duke was to host a Christmas ball in a few weeks’ time, and she was having difficulty containing Elizabeth’s excitement!
On one such day, Sarah dragged a fairly reluctant Samuel and an enthusiastic Elizabeth to the ballroom to continue their dancing lessons. Of course, as a daughter of an earl, she had been taught the steps from almost the time she could walk, her favorite being the quadrille. It was with this that she began and Elizabeth, as keen as ever to dance, began practicing with great zeal as Sarah played the piano, reminding her of the steps whenever Elizabeth faltered. Samuel stood stoically, refusing to take part. He hated dancing and, of course, at his age could not understand why it was such an important skill to have. Sarah smiled to herself knowingly. In a few years’ time, Samuel would be asking all the eligible ladies to dance and, if, God willing, she was still with the household, she would take great pleasure in reminding him of his stubborn refusals.
“Miss Brown, what other dances are there? Are there many? Am I to learn more than one?”
Sarah laughed at Elizabeth’s enthusiasm, her face pink with exertion.
“Yes, my dear, there are many, many dances for you to learn. In fact, when I was growing up, there was a new dance that came to England all the way from France. I have heard that in London, one must get permission to dance it.”
Elizabeth’s eyes grew round.
“Why, Miss Brown? Why must I get permission?”
Sarah paused for a moment, trying to come up with a simple explanation that this little girl would understand.
“It is a very special dance, Elizabeth; that is all. Not everyone is permitted to take part, it is so special!”
“Oh, I see.” Elizabeth seemed satisfied with her answer. “What is the special dance called?”
“The waltz,” came a voice from the shadows, causing Sarah to jump in fright. “Pardon me, Miss Brown, I was just passing when I heard voices.” The duke ambled into the room, taking in Samuel’s stubborn face and Elizabeth’s elated one.
“Yes... yes,” Sarah continued, trying to find her equilibrium. “It is called the waltz, Elizabeth, and, as I said, it came all the way from France!”
“Oh how lovely,” Elizabeth sighed. “What a lovely name. I should so like to see it one day.”
“Indeed you shall.” The duke put his hand out towards Sarah. “Shall we indulge her, Miss Brown?”
Sarah sat, nonplussed for a moment, aware of the vast impropriety of the situation. A duke did not ask a governess to dance, not even to satisfy the curiosity of a child. They certainly did not ask them to dance the waltz, a dance that was controversial still. She would be held close by him, and she would have to take his hand — and neither of them wearing gloves at that. Her breath hitched as she considered what to say. In the silence, Elizabeth answered for her.
“Yes, yes, Miss Brown, you must. Father is a terrific dancer, I am sure, and I would so love to see the waltz!”
With an encouraging shove from Elizabeth, which earned her a chastising glare from her father, Sarah found herself in the Duke of Huntington’s arms, preparing to dance her first waltz in years. She had only danced it twice before, each time with permission and with a gentleman she felt nothing for, but with the duke, it was completely different.
“There is no music, Your Grace,” she murmured, refusing to look him in the eye and instead focusing her gaze on a painting at the far end of the room.
“We do not need music, Miss Brown,” the duke replied, a smile in his voice. “I shall count to three to keep us in time. Please ensure you do not step on my toes as my valet has only just finished polishing my shoes.”
Sarah glared at him then, her eyes angry and a retort on the tip of her tongue. Before she could speak and without hesitation, the duke spun her onto the floor and into the waltz. She realized that he had been waiting for her to look at him, as though he needed to see her face. His hands were warm and strong, holding the correct distance apart, as propriety demanded. She heard his voice quietly counting to three over and over again, as they danced across the floor to the great delight of both children. The duke certainly was an excellent dancer, she thought, as she was twirled gracefully across the floor. His counting became the melody in her head as she relaxed in his arms, forgetting all about her lower rank. She was back in the days of her youth, a mere girl of eighteen who had been asked to dance by an eligible young man.
Oliver noticed the change in Sarah’s posture and face, the way she relaxed into the dance, losing herself in imagined music. He did not know much about her background, but he could tell from her unfaltering steps that she had been highly educated, trained in all the ways of a genteel lady. She was pretty when her face was not filled with worry, he thought, seeing her smile as she lost herself in some far-off memories. He forgot that his children were watching, that this was merely a show for his daughter, and pulled Miss Brown closer to his body. Her face was now so near to his own, he could feel her breath whisper across his cheek. Blue eyes looked up at him, a little heavy lidded, and in that moment, the temptation to lower his head almost overwhelmed him. Counting to three was no longer just keeping time but instead became the countdown to capturing her lips.
“Your Grace!”
A shout interrupted his thoughts, as he stopped the waltz abruptly, immediately dropping his hold on Sarah. The butler, apologizing for interrupting them, came close to the duke, his face pale and drawn.
“Your Grace, there is another.”
“Where?”
“At the front steps, Your Grace.”
All joviality gone, the duke turned to Sarah.
“Take the children to the nursery; it is almost time for dinner. I shall meet you in the library this evening. This may be something you can help with.”
With no other explanation, the duke marched out of the room, and Sarah was left confused and perplexed. There was no time to think about what his words meant, she would have to just wait until this evening. Sarah turned to Elizabeth and Samuel, who were both staring at her in bewilderment. The important thing now was not to frighten them, so she forced a bright smile and even brighter voice.
“Well now, what do you think about that, Elizabeth? You have seen the waltz, although it was not expertly done, I am sure!”
The little girl smiled at Sarah before spinning around in an attempt to copy the steps.
“It was wonderful, Miss Brown, I cannot wait until I may dance it myself.”
“What about you, Samuel? Did you enjoy it?”
Samuel shrugged, not as easily distracted as Elizabeth. “What did the butler want?”
“I am afraid I do not know, Samuel, and it is clear that your father does not want us to know either. We must trust that he knows best, and I am certain he can deal with whatever the trouble is. Now, back to the nursery. Perhaps we will have time for a game with your toy soldiers before dinner is announced.”
He grinned up at her before running to catch his sister. Sarah sighed in relief, glad that she had the presence of mind to mention the soldiers. Dancing diverted Elizabeth whilst toy soldiers distracted Samuel. She could not blame his questions. However, her own curiosity piqued as she wondered what the duke was going to reveal to her that evening.
5
Once Sarah prepared for the following day’s lessons, she made her way to the library, more nervous than she had expected. She was not afraid of the duke, but she was anxious about what he was going to reveal. She paused for a moment at his portrait on the wall, the last in a long line of men. The artist had captured his likeness well, managing to portray both his authority and caring nature. Indeed, the duke was vastly different from the man her father had become, although, she thought with a pang, he had been much like the duke at one time. Continuing along the hallway to the library, she thought about that waltz. She had lost herself and let herself dream, foolish woman that she was. The duke was a handsome man, his dark eyes causing her to shiver inside. When his black hair flopped forward, she had imagined herself brushing it back. She blushed as she remembered, hoping the duke had not guessed any of her ridiculous thoughts. It was inadvisable for her to think of the duke that way; her days of being a genteel and eligible lady were well behind her. Governesses were not likely to ever marry and to be seduced by the master of the house would be shameful indeed. She resolved to stop such imaginings immediately, knowing it would lead nowhere other than a broken heart. Knocking quietly on the library’s door, she waited to be allowed entry. To her surprise, the duke himself opened the door for her, whiskey in hand.
“Miss Brown, thank you for coming.”
His voice was serious, his face strained. Gesturing to a chair in front of the blazing fire, the duke sat opposite her, taking a swig of his whiskey before he began.
“Miss Brown, I am in a dilemma. It is most untoward of me to be seeking a governess’s advice, but I have no other course of action, and you appear to be a female of much sense.” He thought briefly of Samuel burning the switch.
Sarah felt herself blush slightly. “Thank you, Your Grace; I will try my best to help.”
“Here,” he held out a letter to her. “Read this. It was placed, along with a dead crow, on the steps leading to the front door this morning.”
Sarah, her stomach turning over at the thought, began to read the letter.
“Your Grace,
It seems the last two letters have merited no reaction from you. Should nothing change, I can assure you that further steps will be taken to force your hand. I shall expect the money to be left on Friday evening at midnight. Consider this your final warning.”
Sarah read the letter twice before looking up at the duke. He rubbed a hand across his brow, seeing her dismay.
“Before you ask, no, I do not know who is sending them.”
“What did the previous letters say?”
“Well, whoever it is wishes me to take out a substantial sum of money and leave it in a designated place in the churchyard. Of course, this I have not yet done and do not intend to do either.”
Sarah’s brows were knotted in confusion.
“I assume that they must be threatening you somehow, in order to request such a thing?”
The duke stared at her for a moment, hesitant to involve her without her consent.
“Miss Brown, I must ask. This is a serious matter, and I should have requested your permission before dragging you into it. Before I go any further, are you sure you want to become involved?”
She considered for a moment.
“Does it concern the children?”
He nodded before placing his head in his hands. Sarah considered the situation. It involved the children so, of course, she wanted to help. However, she was aware that, in all probability, this would draw her closer to the duke and that made her both eager and unwilling. The duke looked at her again, waiting for her answer and the pain and confusion in his eyes broke her resolve.
“If it concerns the children, then I would like to help in any way I can,” she replied quietly, seeing the flash of relief cross his face.
The duke took a deep breath.
“My wife, rest her soul, was not a faithful woman.”
Sarah struggled to control her reaction on hearing such a shocking statement, aware that whilst it was common for men to have mistresses, it was considered improper for a wife to do the same.
“The author of the letter is somehow aware of this, and raises the question of my twins’ paternity.”
“But that is ridiculous!” Sarah exclaimed. “No one could doubt their parenthood; their coloring is so similar to your own!”
“Regardless,” the duke continued. “Should it be known that my children may be of illegitimate birth, it will have consequences for their whole lives. Even the suggestion of them being illegitimate will affect their chances of making a suitable match and, when the time comes for my will to be read and my fortune dispensed, they could be left with nothing, should the will be contested.”
“Would there be those who would contest the will on such grounds?”
The duke closed his eyes briefly. “Unfortunately, there are — even from within my own family!”
Sarah let out a long breath. It was a precarious situation, for what parent did not want to protect their children?
“It is a very significant sum this blackmailer is requesting?” she asked timidly, not wishing to suggest that the duke was somehow failing his children by not doing as he was bid.
“Miss Brown, it would ruin me,” he replied, his eyes back on hers. “Even if I did as he asked, what is to prevent him from coming back, again and again, with more requests? If I give in now, there is no guarantee it will end. The only thing I have been able to do is hire some men to watch the grounds to protect my children.”
Sarah rose to her feet and began pacing, her mind whirling with this new information. Now she could understand why the duke needed aid, but alas, she had no suggestions about the way forward. She watched the duke pour himself another whiskey and felt herself grow tense. Whenever her father drank, it would turn him into the violent man who enjoyed causing her pain. With every fiber of her being, she hoped the duke would not follow suit.
“What am I to do, Miss Brown? What am I to do?” His voice rising, the duke came nearer to her, unaware of her growing concern. “They are threatening my children and, no matter what choice I make, it seems they are going to be in the crossfire.” He took another gulp of the fiery liquid, walking ever closer. “There is no way out!” Raising his arm, he threw the glass in the fire with a roar, watching it shatter into a million pieces. Only then did he register the cry that came from Sarah and how she had raised her arms as though to defend herself.
“Oh, my dear!” Reaching for her, he rocked her shaking form, baffled by her reaction. “I would never harm you, Miss Brown, never once have I raised my hand to a woman. It was merely my frustrations getting the better of me.” He continued to hold her in a strong embrace, as the memory of her bruised body flooded his mind. Was this the reason for her terror?
Sarah couldn’t stop herself from shaking. The whiskey in his hand, followed by his thunderous voice had brought back memories of her father’s heavy hand. Without a doubt, she had reacted to defend herself, thinking she was now to be the brunt of the duke’s anger. How humiliated she was.
“I apologize, Your Grace,” she mumbled into his shoulder. “I do not know what came over me.”
The duke eased her back and looked her straight in the eye. “Sarah, I think you do know, and one day, I hope you will trust me enough to tell me the truth. I see a fear in your eyes that has long been resident within you. Whatever you are afraid of; you will not find me a violent man. I would never harm you.”
Sarah gave a slight nod, dropping her eyes to the floor as she became aware that he had used her given name. The way he said it brought warmth to her very soul; it had been so long s
ince her name had been spoken with kindness. The duke had not dropped his embrace, holding her lightly around the waist while the fire cast a warm glow around them.
Oliver’s senses were reeling. She fitted perfectly into his arms, her trembling slowly subsiding as he held her. He took in her lips, her eyes, and her hair and fleetingly wondered what it would look like unbound. Almost unwillingly, he reached and pulled a single pin from her hair, a short curl falling across her face. He rubbed it between his finger and thumb, marveling at its softness as she watched him with wide eyes.
“I suppose,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “That you may call me Oliver, but only when we are in private.” He swallowed hard, trying to rein in his desire. Sarah licked her lips, tormenting him further.
“Yes, Your Grace, I mean, Oliver.”
Sarah allowed her hands to rest on Oliver’s chest, feeling the strength of his body and the warmth of his skin through his shirt. Her mind was scolding her, reminding her of how much she could lose should she allow further intimacies, but she did not care. The duke was a kind man, and it was little wonder she felt drawn to him. His dark eyes drew her in, and she touched his hair as she had longed to earlier that day. She heard his sharp intake of breath, marveling at his reaction to her touch, feeling his hands roving over the small of her back.
“Oliver, I think-”
A knock at the door startled them, throwing them apart as they leapt away from each other. The spell was broken, the magic gone. Hastily pinning her hair, Sarah glanced at the duke, blushing crimson as she saw his eyes still on her. Oliver cursed his own weakness, watching her still. He was drawn to the woman like a magnet to metal; not only his body but his heart responded to her. With a soft curse, he finally allowed the butler entry, who displayed no reaction whatsoever on finding the master and the governess ensconced together.
