by Regina Scott
~~~
Miss Thorn’s disappearance was the one concern overlaying Jane’s delight in seeing the capital in the company of Alaric and the girls. Everything went so well, even with Mr. Mayes’ continued surveillance. For one thing, though the duchess kept busy with friends for the most part, the elderly staff at the London house were welcoming and eager to help.
“His Grace stays with us so infrequently,” the round-cheeked housekeeper Mrs. Winters confided in Jane, “and never before with the darling girls. It’s a real treat to be of use.”
For another, the house sat a few blocks from Hyde Park and had its own mews, so they were able to ride or walk every day.
“Though I miss Unicorn,” Belle said, eyeing the prancing iron unicorn mounted on the crest on the gates of the park’s main entrance.
Most of all, though, seeing London through Larissa, Callie, and Belle’s eyes made everything seem wonderful. They gazed up and up at the stuffed giraffe on the top floor of the British Museum, leaned over the railings to watch the great ships pass under London Bridge, and ran through the just-risen daffodils in Hyde Park holding hands. Every day was a new adventure, a chance to see and try and do. She could tell Alaric felt the same way, for that smile his mother so prized hovered about his lips on a regular basis, and never more than when they took the girls to see Astley’s.
Astley’s Amphitheatre was located on the other side of the Thames, a short carriage drive away. Though the equestrian display generally opened after Easter, the owner had consented to start early with so many lords and their families in town for Parliament. The great dome curved over a dirt-floored arena more than forty feet across, with a stage and painted scenery three stories tall along the back and a pit for the orchestra in between. Four tiers of seats soared around the circumference, crowded with ladies and gentlemen eager for spectacle, more than two thousand people, according to Mr. Mayes, who had accompanied them. With Alaric on one side and him on the other side of the girls, Jane had no concern for the boisterous crowd.
Neither did the girls. They cheered for the juggler, applauded the brave bear tamer, and laughed over the antics of the clowns. Even Mr. Mayes praised Madam Chivka, who rode with the reins in her teeth while twirling flaming batons.
“She should ride for Wellington,” Alaric murmured, breath brushing Jane’s ear. She shared his smile.
Finally, the ring cleared, and the master of ceremonies stepped to the front of the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, Astley’s is proud to present our wild allies of the Peninsula, the Russian Cossacks!”
The troop came pounding into the arena, whooping and hollering, their dark hair flying under their tall blue hats. Brandishing curved swords, they followed the rim of the space, dirt churning under the hooves of their shaggy mounts. Mr. Mayes gave them a rousing “Huzzah!” Belle shrank back against Jane, Callie watched mesmerized, and Larissa clasped her hands against her flat bosom. Alaric glanced at Jane with a grin that set her stomach to fluttering again.
It was the panorama. It had to be. She couldn’t afford it to be anything else.
“But what’s this?” the master of ceremonies cried. “Ladies and gentlemen, I have been given terrible news. Napoleon has crossed the Channel!”
Ice raced through her veins even as cries rang out on every side. No, it couldn’t be! They’d fought for years, by sea and by land, to prevent that invasion. What would they do? How could she protect Alaric and the girls?
Before panic could do more than raise its ugly head, she realized her mistake. Likely old Boney was still wreaking havoc on the Peninsula, for surely he wasn’t the short, stout fellow riding into the arena below, his French Corsairs right behind him. Drawing his cutlass, he charged at the Russians, who turned to meet their enemy. Swords flashed as steel rang on steel.
“It seems our valiant allies are faltering,” the master of ceremonies lamented as the Cossacks began to tumble from their saddles, one going so far as to allow his horse to drag him through the dirt. “Can no one help them?”
Callie hopped to her feet. “I will!”
“Me too!” Belle cried, scrambling off her seat.
“Rule, Britannia!” Mr. Mayes shouted, rising as well.
“Shh!” Larissa scolded. “You’ll spoil it.”
But all around them, others took up the call. Men lifted their voices along with their top hats, ladies waved handkerchiefs. Alaric surged to his feet and added his voice to theirs. Larissa stared at him. Jane pulled her up.
“Look!” Jane pointed to the troop that entered the arena now. “It’s the Dragoons!”
The master of ceremonies confirmed it. “But all is not lost. Here comes the Tenth Dragoons, the prince’s own unit, with his Royal Highness leading the way.”
She thought the muscular fellow in the front looked a great deal fitter than the frivolous fellow Alaric had described, but the others certainly followed him. They flattened the French, until the so-called Napoleon and the pretend prince faced off against each other.
“You can do it!” Callie called to the prince.
“Show no mercy!” Larissa cried.
“Do it for your unicorn!” Belle shouted.
Something touched Jane’s hand, warm, secure. She wrapped her fingers around Alaric’s and hung on tight.
The two men circled each other, sneering and snarling. Napoleon tugged on the reins, and his horse reared, pawing the air.
“Coward!” Mr. Mayes called. “Face him like a man!”
The clash of their steel echoed over the cries of the crowd. Then the prince’s sword flashed, and Napoleon fell.
The crowd erupted—shouting, cheering, applauding, stomping their feet. As the prince rode the circle, hands up in victory, the French and Russians dragged their men from the dirt.
“I knew he’d win,” Larissa said. “Princes always win.”
Jane was more aware of the hand cradling hers. Did Alaric know he was touching her? Surely he could tell the hand he held was bigger than his daughters’. She glanced his way, but his gaze was on the ring, and she’d never seen such wistfulness. He deserved to have become a cavalryman, to ride to defend his country. He deserved better than to be shut up in a library, making decisions that would daunt other men.
He deserved a helpmate, a wife, someone who would love and cherish him, encourage him when things became difficult. If only she could be that woman.
~~~
Alaric kept Jane’s hand in his as he chivied his little band out of the building for the carriage. It was only practical, after all. He wouldn’t want to lose any of them in the crowd. Anyone who could afford the price of a ticket flocked to the famed amphitheater. He’d seen street mongers brush shoulders with viscounts. He felt a little like a sheepdog as it was, even with Julian alongside.
“Our coachman will find us,” Alaric told Jane. “Stay close.”
“Right at your side, Your Grace,” she promised.
And she had been. He had never enjoyed London—the crowds, the noise, the demands on his time. He’d had to make an appearance in Parliament, which had only resulted in a throng of petitions to support this upcoming bill, that worthy cause. Julian had brought several issues to his attention. And Society had attempted to impinge on his time. Even now, before the Season had started in earnest, a dozen invitations lay waiting for his reply. A duke in need of a wife was always of interest.
Yet Jane had been a constant source of support. She kept an eye on the weather, reminded him that it hadn’t done more than drizzle since they’d left. She arranged activities for the girls, kept him apprised of the schedule, and worked with Mrs. Winters to make sure meals and staff were available as needed.
And yet Miss Thorn’s mysterious disappearance cast a shadow over Jane. Try as he might, he could not forget Julian’s report. His friend remained wary; Alaric had noticed the number of times Julian frowned at Jane, as if trying to determine which woman graced Alaric’s home—the loving, unorthodox governess or the lawless former minister’s d
aughter, determined to take what she could from life.
The last few days should have been proof enough. Jane had been everything Alaric could have asked. Seeing the sights with her and the girls had opened his eyes to wonders he’d forgotten—the roar of the tiger in the Tower Zoo, sunlight shining on the Serpentine, the smell of roast chestnuts from the street vendors. He found himself nearly content for the first time in a long time. It was almost as if they were a family.
He reined in his thoughts. They could never be a family. Jane Kimball was the governess of his children. He owed her protection, respect, fair remuneration. He owed his daughters assurance that he had chosen their governess well. When he convinced himself to marry again, it would likely be to some fair flower of the aristocracy who had been trained since birth for her role in Society.
“That’s a very big sigh,” Jane said beside him. “Do you want me and Larissa to go in search of the carriage?”
Julian stepped closer. “No need. It will be along shortly.”
“Jane! Jane Kimball!”
Alaric turned to see three fellows striding toward them. Their navy uniforms had a scarlet blaze down the front, and their trousers boasted a gold stripe.
“You were in the panorama!” Callie cried.
“Not these boys,” Jane said with a smile all around. “These are the real things. His Grace, Duke of Wey, Lady Larissa, Lady Calantha, Lady Abelona, Mr. Mayes, may I present Captains Montgomery, Fremont, and Holmes of the Twelfth Dragoons. Gentlemen, I serve His Grace as governess to these fine ladies.”
They clapped their heels and bowed, the scarlet plumes on their black and red helmets fluttering. Alaric thought he heard Larissa sigh. At least, he hoped it was Larissa.
“Ladies, gentlemen” Montgomery said, russet mustache quivering. “Forgive the intrusion, but when we saw Jane, that is Mrs. Kimball, we had to pay our respects.”
“I take it you know Mrs. Kimball well,” Julian said with a look to Alaric, as if Jane’s association with the cavalry was somehow more significant than having a husband who had ridden for glory.
Fremont nodded, blond hair glinting. “Great gun, is our Jane. Seen her stare down a cannon’s mouth without blinking.”
A cannon’s mouth? Alaric couldn’t help glancing at her. Pink was climbing in her cheeks.
“They’re exaggerating,” she insisted. “I wasn’t the one riding neck for leather across the plains screaming like banshees and scaring the French into retreat.”
“Indeed,” Julian said. “I’m surprised to see you gentlemen here. I thought the Twelfth was called to Badajoz.”
Now he even seemed suspicious of the cavalry. The action had been related in the papers.
“They let a few of us come home,” Montgomery said. “Wellington has old Boney on the run, just like in that show, eh your ladyships?”
Larissa and Callie nodded. Belle drew herself up. “I’ll send him my unicorn to help. He’ll be sure to win then.”
“That’s the spirit,” Montgomery said. He turned to Alaric. “I wonder, Your Grace, would you mind if we borrowed Mrs. Kimball? We’ll be back at the front shortly, facing our last moments. It would be good to speak with an old friend.”
Again, Julian cast him a look. The cavalryman was doing it up rather brown, but he was right. In a war, a cavalryman knew that any charge might be his last. He ought to give the fellows some time alone with Jane, yet something made him want to keep her close.
“Now, now,” Jane answered for him. “I can’t go deserting my post. What would Wellington say?”
Montgomery opened his mouth, glanced at Julian, and seemed to think better of his words. “Well, I’m glad to see you’re doing so well.”
They all bowed with such respect she might have been the Queen Mother. Jane smiled fondly. Holmes, the youngest, face still sporting spots, emboldened himself to speak at last.
“I’m not sure when we’ll see home again. Would you wait for me, Jane?”
Alaric wanted to put her safely behind him, inform the upstart he should move along. Jane would not be waiting for anyone but him.
He was only glad the words hadn’t tumbled out of his mouth.
“Now, then, Johnny,” she said with a sisterly cuff on his shoulder, “what would your dear Elena say? Off you go, and behave yourselves.”
“Too late for that,” Fremont said with a grin, but they bowed again and took themselves off. This time he was certain Larissa sighed.
Callie elbowed Belle. “I think Larissa changed her mind. She doesn’t want to marry a prince anymore. She wants to marry a cavalry officer.”
Jane flushed, but Larissa shook her head. “No, I don’t. Cavalry officers leave their wives behind.”
“They do indeed,” Jane murmured, gaze following her husband’s comrades.
Something tightened inside him. She deserved a husband to support and cheer her, someone who would appreciate her canny insights and unique character.
“There’s the coach,” Jane said. “Come along, girls.” She elbowed her way forward.
Julian caught Alaric’s arm before he could follow. “Well? Will you accept that she isn’t a proper governess?”
Alaric removed his hand. “No. You may prefer to doubt everyone you meet, but I have better ways to spend my time. I saw nothing out of keeping with the stories Jane has told me.”
Julian sighed. “Then I’ll just have to keep digging. I can’t see you taken in, Wey. You deserve better.”
Perhaps. But he couldn’t help thinking that what he really wanted was Jane.
Chapter Seventeen
Jane was leading the girls on a constitutional around Clarendon Square on a day that threatened rain when Miss Thorn appeared at last. Alaric was meeting with his London agents, and Her Grace was out visiting friends. Larissa had just passed the door of the town house Jane was still sure belonged to Miss Thorn when the green door opened, and out came her benefactress, Fortune up in her arms. The cat’s grey fur exactly matched the grey of the poplin skirts peeking out from under the lavender redingote.
“There’s Fortune!” Belle cried, and Jane reached out to hang on to her shoulder before the little girl could dart forward.
Miss Thorn didn’t look the least surprised to see them, or the least embarrassed about not having recognized Jane and Alaric’s previous visits. She swept down the steps, feather in her hat bobbing a greeting. Fortune’s little mouth tilted up as if in a smile to Jane.
“Jane, girls,” Miss Thorn acknowledged, acting as if she would pass them.
Jane released Belle and stepped into the employment agency owner’s path. “You have nothing more to say to us? We were worried about you.”
She paused with a tight-lipped smile, hand stroking Fortune’s head. “Sorry to have concerned you, but you indicated that you were pleased with the position. That is still the case, is it not?”
Mystified, Jane nodded. “Yes, I love being a governess.”
“And we love Mrs. Kimble,” Belle piped up.
Right. She had an audience. Larissa was frowning, and Callie had her chin up, as if she were memorizing every word exchanged. Which she probably was. Still, Jane refused to let her former benefactress go until she had some answers.
“You must know disappearing like that would raise questions,” she said. “His Grace and Mr. Mayes are certain they recall meeting you.”
She stilled. “Are they? How inconvenient. Please assure them there is no reason for a duke or a solicitor to remember a tradeswoman.”
“They seem to think you weren’t a tradeswoman then,” Jane said. “Were you associated with them? Is that how you knew the duke needed a governess?”
She waved a hand. “His Grace’s difficulties are common knowledge. Lady Calantha isn’t the only one who listens to what others say.”
Callie dropped her gaze, coloring.
“I don’t believe you,” Larissa put in. “My father is respected.”
“He’s a duke,” Belle said with a nod, as if th
at were that.
“That’s enough, girls,” Jane said with a look all around. Then she returned her gaze to Miss Thorn’s. Something flashed in the lavender—regret, fear? No, surely not fear, not the redoubtable Miss Thorn.
“I’m trying to help,” Jane told her. “I don’t like people suspecting you. I don’t much like them suspecting me either.”
She lay a hand on Jane’s arm. “Forgive me, Jane. I had no intention of jeopardizing your position. But you are settled. My efforts now must turn to others who are less fortunate.”
So that was it. She was washing her hands of Jane. Jane ought to feel relieved that no harm had come to the woman, but she couldn’t help feeling like day-old cabbage.
“I see,” she made herself say. “Well, then, I suppose this is goodbye.” She reached out and rubbed Fortune’s head. The cat raised her chin to allow her access to her creamy throat. Jane’s throat was tightening.
“Take good care of your mistress, Fortune. Everyone needs someone who cares about them.”
“Jane,” Miss Thorn started, then her head came up. Jane heard it too. A carriage had entered the square and was coming around the park in the center. She could see the unicorn crest on the side.
Miss Thorn leaned forward. “If you ever need anything, Jane, please let me know. I want only the best for you.” Clutching Fortune close, she hurried across the street and disappeared into the park.
~~~
Jane wasn’t sure whether Alaric had spotted Miss Thorn until she joined him in the withdrawing room that evening. She and Alaric had taken to playing chess for a time after the girls had been put to bed and Her Grace was out at various soirees and events. The chess set here was of warm wood, the grain smooth in her grip. With the only light from the coals in the hearth and the lamp on the desk, the footman hidden in the shadows, she and Alaric existed inside their own private cocoon for a time, away from demands, expectations.
