by Gayle Callen
"Ladies," he began in his deep, unsettling voice, "is there something wrong?"
Meriel put aside her anger at his past conduct and tried to think of him as a concerned father, which he'd recently shown. In fact, he was looking at her with such a serious expression that her stomach felt uneasy. "Your Grace, I confess that Stephen took his leave of me once again."
Wearing a fake smile, he put his arm through Miss Barome's, as if they were having only a lighthearted conversation. In an overly loud tone of voice, he said, "Miss Shelby, they have run out of punch in the children's reception? Miss Barome, do show Miss Shelby where our refreshments are. I'll rejoin you ladies in a moment."
Meriel stared at him wide-eyed. Was he going to just hope Stephen would return? Miss Barome pulled her toward the punch bowl, and Meriel surreptitiously continued to watch the duke. There was a tension about him, a stiffness in the way he held his shoulders that seemed out of character. It reminded her of the afternoon on the beach last week, when he'd seemed concerned about a stranger walking toward Stephen. No, "concerned" was the wrong word— he'd been visibly worried. What did he think was going to happen to Stephen at an assembly?
Now the duke moved from group to group, chatting, smiling— and searching. He swept his foot beneath tables while he continued to talk, and on the third try, his foot connected with something. He pulled his son out from beneath and held the boy up in the air in front of him. Stephen's hands were filled with tarts and his face was covered in jam. For a moment, Meriel glimpsed a relief in the duke's face that seemed too great.
"So there you are, my boy," the duke said a little too loudly. "Your governess will be most upset that I lost you when I was supposed to be watching you."
Several women gathered around him and chuckled, assuring him that he was a wonderful father.
Miss Barome cocked an eyebrow and shook her head. Meriel didn't know what to think. The duke had saved her, when he certainly could have left her alone and embarrassed. He brought his sticky son to her, and she gladly pulled the little boy to her side.
"Now Miss Shelby," the duke began.
Meriel braced herself.
"You will forgive me for losing him again, won't you?" he asked, a twinkle in his eye.
"You know there's nothing to forgive, Your Grace," she murmured, feeling confused. Once again, the tension in him had dissolved so completely that she questioned her own observations.
"Nobody lost me," Stephen said grumpily. "I was hungry!"
Meriel leaned down to speak near to his ear. "Next time, please tell me, my lord, so that I can escort you to the children's refreshments."
As they started back toward the other room, Stephen tugged on her hand, and she leaned back over.
"My father didn't lose me," he said in a quiet voice. "Was he helping us?"
Meriel looked over her shoulder at the duke, who was conversing with Miss Barome. "Yes, he was."
She squeezed the little boy's hand, and he grinned in return.
At the end of the assembly, Meriel led Stephen back to his father. She noticed that the crowd had thinned out as people said their good evenings.
Miss Barome joined them and smiled at Meriel. "The duke has offered me a ride home, so I'll be joining you."
"We appreciate the company," Meriel replied, and meant it. The more adults between her and the duke, the better.
Outside, the duke signaled for his coachman, and as they waited, Meriel couldn't help overhearing the conversation between him and Miss Barome.
"Cecil," Miss Barome said in a low voice, "I feel the need to warn you about a rumor that could damage your reputation."
"Let me guess," the duke said affably, leaning against the doorway. "They said I cheat at cards."
Meriel stiffened and kept Stephen distracted by asking him questions about the stars.
Miss Barome put her hands on her hips. "You know about this?"
"Metcalfe told me tonight. I promptly told them all that it was a lie, played anyone who cared to challenge me, and won enough that they believed my skills."
"But Cecil, you're terrible at cards."
"I've been practicing. Maybe that's where the accusation came from. Or maybe not."
"What do you mean?" Miss Barome asked in a softer voice.
Meriel casually leaned nearer, only half listening as Stephen chatted on about using the North Star for guidance. If they chose to speak in front of her, it was not her fault that she could hear them.
"Who did you hear the rumor from?" The duke spoke in a voice that sounded too serious to be him.
"Sir Dudley," Miss Barome said. "But I cannot credit him with the intelligence to deliberately harm your reputation."
"I agree. Doesn't he move within Rexford's circle?"
"Yes."
"Then perhaps it came from him."
"But why?" Miss Barome asked.
The carriage drove up before them, and the duke waited for Stephen to scramble up inside before next lending a hand to Meriel.
He turned to help Miss Barome, and Meriel heard him say, "Not sure, old girl. It didn't hurt me, so what does a harmless prank matter?"
But Meriel didn't believe he cared so little about a challenge to his honor.
Why couldn't she believe the worst about him? After they let Miss Barome off, the duke turned down the lamp so that Stephen could continue to watch the stars. Meriel answered questions from the boy, but mostly she sat on her bench opposite the duke in the darkness, where an occasional gleam from his eyes reminded her that he was watching her.
Not that she needed to see it to know it. Regardless of what she'd learned about him today, just being near him made her feel strange yearnings. She told herself he had been kind to her tonight because he wanted her impression of him to be favorable. As far as her physical impression of him, he didn't have to worry. Black and white evening clothes made him look dashing and elegant and handsome, and watching him dance with other women had made her feel her newly humbled position more than anything else had. In the past, she was the one every man had wanted to dance with.
Why could she not remember that he was a man who seduced his servants?
Because he was also a man who worried about his son, and spared his governess public humiliation. She told herself that he was only trying to soften her resistance.
When they arrived home, she saw Stephen up to his nurse, then took a chance and went back to look for the duke. She found him in the library, relaxing in a comfortable chair, his feet propped up as he faced the door— as if he was waiting for her.
As if he knew she'd come.
She stood in the doorway and linked her hands together, striving to look relaxed instead of nervous. "Might I come in, Your Grace?"
"Of course, Miss Shelby."
He said nothing else, only watched her, letting her make the next move. His cravat and stock were loosened, baring more of his skin.
Oh, why did she have to notice such things?
"I wish to apologize for my conduct tonight in regard to your son," she said.
He leaned his head back. "Your conduct? I heard you explain the stars to him in a way perfect for a six-year-old to comprehend."
"But I lost sight of him again, Your Grace."
"He is good at escaping, it would seem. I'm rather proud of the way his mind works."
She remained silent— confused, angry, grateful. These feelings conflicted within her, making her miserable. She should leave his employ, but instead she would only leave to attend her sister's wedding. Maybe the time away would help.
"I'll be leaving in two days' time, Your Grace."
He got so swiftly to his feet that she took a step backward.
"Leaving?" he said, stalking toward her, his usual pleasant expression gone.
By candlelight, he looked…dark and exotic and forbidden. And her insides churned in reaction to him.
"I have not terminated your position here."
She licked her lips and arched her neck to look u
p at him. He was far too close. "I am attending my sister's wedding. We discussed it several days ago."
He rocked back on his heels, hands on his hips, danger at bay for the moment. But she knew it was still there.
"I had forgotten."
He paused for an uncomfortably long moment, and she was almost about to escape when he spoke again.
"Your sister, the one who's marrying the viscount— she'll be able to take care of your mother now, won't she?"
She nodded, not bothering to hide her confusion.
In a softer voice, he said, "She would take care of you if you wanted her to."
Meriel stopped breathing as she stared up at him in silence.
"But you won't remain with her, will you? Stephen needs you."
A flash of anger took her by surprise. "Your Grace, I am offended at your presumption that I would abandon your son so easily."
And she was rather surprised at herself, that such a thought hadn't occurred to her.
But the viscount was rescuing her sister, and was being saddled with her mother. Meriel couldn't presume that he would accept sisters into his household as well.
And how could she leave Stephen? Every day the questions he asked filled her teacher's heart with joy. She loved sharing her knowledge with him. If she ever left him, she would have to make sure he was in capable hands other than her own.
Because she didn't trust his father. It all came down to that. Something was wrong in this household, and it wasn't just her worry about her physical reaction to the duke.
He cocked his head. "I didn't think you would abandon my son easily, Miss Shelby. But London is a city that lures people to remain."
"You think a city would induce me to remain, after I had given my promise elsewhere?"
"If not a city, then your family."
He was too close to her own thoughts. "No, Your Grace. I will be gone four days. That is my promise to your son."
Meriel excused herself and left him, striding angrily up through the mansion, wanting only her bed so that she could pound her pillow in frustration at the feelings she couldn't understand. Nurse Weston was just leaving Stephen's room in the nursery, and closed the door behind her.
"He had a wonderful time," the nurse said in a soft voice.
Meriel nodded.
"And did you enjoy yourself?" the nurse continued.
Meriel glanced at her with suspicion. "I watched over the children along with many governesses. I was working."
"I thought perhaps His Grace would…"
When she didn't finish, Meriel faced her and sighed. "Nurse Weston, whatever His Grace plans to do with one of the servants, it will not be with me. He has not chosen me for…for anything except as governess to his son."
Nurse Weston arched a brow. "I only seek to warn you, but His Grace most certainly is thinking about you."
This was too close to what Meriel saw in his eyes, so she only shook her head, remaining silent.
"Did you know he was waiting to escort you outside early this evening?"
"That can't be true— Stephen and I waited in the carriage for twenty minutes."
"And he was waiting in the entrance hall for twenty minutes— for you."
Meriel swallowed heavily and leaned back against the wall. "Oh, heavens. Why would he do such a thing?"
The nurse only shrugged, but her expression spoke clearly.
"Then it's a good thing I'm leaving for a few days," Meriel said. "Maybe he'll be so lonely that he'll choose someone else."
But Nurse Weston didn't look convinced.
* * *
After Miss Shelby had left for London, Richard thought Thanet Court seemed…quiet. He hadn't realized how much he enjoyed catching glimpses of her throughout each day. He buried himself in his subtle work to rebuild the finances of the estate, but that was difficult and tedious, when he kept having to pretend he wanted to learn what to do.
Stephen seemed unusually quiet the first day, and on the second, he reverted to the wild boy he'd been before Miss Shelby had begun to tame him. Nurse Weston came to Mrs. Theobald with her concerns, and she in turn came to Richard.
Richard stared at the housekeeper, who stood near his study door without coming fully into the room. There was a watchfulness to her that made him uneasy, and he'd been avoiding her as much as he could. Of all the servants, she'd been at Thanet Court the longest, and knew both Cecil and him.
"What would you like me to do about Stephen?" he asked. "The nurse should be able to handle this."
"Your son is lonely, Your Grace, and lately he has enjoyed your interest in him. Surely that wasn't just because of Miss Shelby herself."
"No. I know I have not been the best father."
"Then have luncheon with him today. He usually eats with Miss Shelby, and I think yesterday's luncheon set him off to a bad afternoon."
Richard thought about his own childhood in this massive, lonely place. He had been the only child for five years— he knew what Stephen was feeling. Then why did he feel like he was making a mistake?
"Send him to the dining room then," he finally said. "Perhaps I can also find something for him to do afterward."
"Thank you, Your Grace," she said.
She used a cool, professional tone that he did not associate with her. Was she disappointed in him?
After she'd gone, Richard leaned back in his chair and contemplated Miss Shelby— Meriel. She had a beautiful Christian name, one you could almost put to music. He remembered the night of the assembly, how she'd looked in the library after everyone had gone to bed. Her silk gown had shimmered by candlelight, and her hair had gleamed like gold. Never before had he met a woman who made him almost stumble over his words, made him forget everything but the thought that he might not see her every day. She spoke her mind, not caring that he was a duke— that he was supposed to be the duke. He missed her presence as much as Stephen did.
Was he letting himself be distracted from his true mission, Stephen's protection? Right now, Richard was presenting himself as the target. After all, he was portraying the duke, and if Charles wanted to control Stephen, he would have to manipulate Cecil— Richard— first. Richard was certain that Charles's first move had been to discredit the duke's honor. What would Charles try next?
When Richard arrived in the dining room for luncheon, Stephen was already there with his nurse. The woman looked tired and exasperated, and much as Richard would have liked to give her time off, Cecil would never think of it. So the nurse had to stay.
"Stephen, what have you been doing since Miss Shelby returned to London?" Richard asked.
"She left me 'signments," he said glumly. "But only she knows how to make it interesting."
Nurse Weston rolled her eyes, and Richard smiled at her. She blanched and looked back down at her food, as if he would yell at her. Meriel would have understood the humor of the situation. Every sentence out of Stephen's mouth contained "Miss Shelby" somewhere. Richard noticed that the nurse was eating quickly, as if she couldn't wait to leave.
A selection of desserts was brought in on a cart, and Richard chose an apple tart as Nurse Weston turned to speak to the footman.
Stephen leaned closer to Richard and whispered, "You can't eat that."
Richard frowned down at his plate, his fork at the ready. "Why not?"
"Father, you don't like apple tarts, remember?"
Richard stared at the little boy, who glanced at the nurse, then went back to his food single-mindedly. Richard hesitated, a cold feeling of worry settling inside him. Stephen couldn't possibly know the truth about his masquerade…could he? Wouldn't he have said or done something before now, if he thought an impostor was pretending to be his father?
Richard had the footman take away his dessert, and the boy smiled. Maybe Stephen was just playing a game with him. After all, the boy seemed more restless and fidgety than he'd been since Richard had arrived as the duke. But he had to be certain.
"Nurse Weston, I've been meaning to ta
ke Stephen fishing at my favorite childhood place. Take the afternoon for yourself."
Both Stephen and Nurse Weston perked up. The nurse looked tired and hopeful, and the fact that she didn't hide her emotions testified to how exhausted she must really be.
Richard grinned down at Stephen, who was bouncing with excitement. "But Nurse Weston," Richard added, "find him some old clothes first."
