by Joyce Alec
“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.
Chapter 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.
“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 since 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.
“Your Grace, there is a matter that requires your attention. A man has been spotted in the grounds, skulking around the windows and doors.”
“Indeed!” Oliver was already walking towards the door, purposeful once again. “Perhaps this mystery will be solved quickly after all. Gather some of the servants and let us search the grounds.”
Without even a backward glance at Sarah, the duke left the library, leaving her feeling both bereft and confused.
Chapter 6
Oliver was frustrated, pacing around the library. A few days had passed since the intruder had been spotted, but the man had not been found, and there had been no trace of him since. He had barely seen Sarah either; she always left the nursery or the schoolroom as soon as he entered, citing some forgotten book or some such nonsense. She was avoiding him, and he could not blame her. He had behaved like a complete cad, taking liberties that were inexcusable.
She had not given him leave to use her name, yet he had the audacity to ask her to use his. Not that she had refused, he thought suddenly, pausing in his steps. Did that mean something? Whilst she was a handsome woman, she was a gentle, caring and loving one at that. This was more than a base attraction; this went much deeper, piercing his heart. Oliver was stunned at his realization. He cared deeply for Miss Brown, more than he had ever cared for any woman.
His late wife had hated him almost from the moment they married, making no secret of it to either himself or the staff. Once the twins arrived, he had hoped a love for them might change her but, to his sadness, it had made her worse. He had never loved a woman before and did not know what it was supposed to feel like. Was this the beginnings of love?
He ran his hands through his hair, suddenly aware of the choices that lay before him. If he married Miss Brown, there would be an outcry amongst his peers, shocked that he would debase himself by marrying someone from the lower classes — not that he cared. His mother would be bewildered, certainly, but he was sure she would come to love Sarah in time. Without a doubt, the twins adored her, and he could ask for no better mother for them. The only question that remained was whether she would accept him or not. He must find out the depths of her feelings as well as confessing his own. Pouring himself a whiskey, he slumped into the overstuffed chair in front of the fire. He had a lot of thinking to do.
***
Sarah could not sleep. The wind whistled around her window, trying to get in through any cracks or holes it could find but, thankfully, it was not succeeding. The rain was torrential, and she was sure she heard thunder in the distance and she rather enjoyed a good thunderstorm.
Rising from her bed, she pulled back the heavy drapes, with the expectation that, should lightning come, she would be able to spot it. She hoped the children would not be afraid, although they had a nurse with them should they wake. They certainly had stolen her heart.
The days she spent with the children were filled with laughter and smiles as she grew in her affection for them. They would grow to be respectful and loving adults; she was sure of it. Smiling at the thought, she moved from the window to the single wooden chair in front of the warm fire, pulling her heavy woolen shawl over her shoulders for additional warmth.
Staring into the flames, she considered the last few days. She was embarrassed every time she was in the duke’s presence, remembering their embrace. Her feelings for him went further than just an appreciation of his physical features. He was a mild but commanding man and she trusted him wholeheartedly. She knew he would never hurt her or treat her like her father had. If he did take a drink, he stopped before he was lost to its influence.
He trusted her enough to tell her of the mysterious and threatening letters, knowing how much she loved his children. He sought her advice; he cared about what she had to say. Her heart broke a little as she remembered her untruthfulness in the face of his honesty. She had not been seeking a new charge; she was not even a governess. The letters of recommendation were forgeries, even her name was a fabrication, but how could she tell him now? Closing her eyes, she felt a tear run down her cheek, hoping her unspoken words would be a prayer enough.
A sudden noise startled her as she lifted her head. Wiping her tears, she looked around the room, uncertain as to where it had come from.
“Hello?”
Suddenly, lightning flashed and spotted the figure of a man holding onto her window, silhouetted in the bright light. Sarah screamed aloud, only
for him to disappear again into the shadow as the light faded. Shaking, Sarah backed towards the door, never taking her eyes from the window as she unlocked the door and left the room as fast as she could manage. Making her way, as best she could, through the dark hallway, she shrieked again as she bumped into — and was held by — a pair of strong arms.
“Sarah? Sarah!”
Sarah, recognizing the duke’s voice, collapsed against his chest, sobbing profusely as he held her in the dark. The butler, disheveled from sleep, appeared, apologizing for his lack of proper dress but Oliver halted him immediately, gratefully accepting the single candle.
“Let us go back to the library. Sarah, you must tell me what the matter is. Can you do that?”
Nodding, Sarah stumbled along beside the duke, her steps faltering as her body and mind gave into the shock. Soon she found herself seated gently into a chair and a glass of whiskey pushed into her hands.
“Take a sip, love, just one sip. It will help.”
Revolted by the smell and the reminder of her father, Sarah refused, handing it back to Oliver with shaking hands. She could do this without the aid of alcohol.
“There was a man, a man looking in my window,” she managed, finally. “Oliver, he was looking straight at me.” Her eyes looked up at him, huge and frightened.
“It is all right, you are safe with me now,” the duke replied gently. “Stay for a moment; I must speak to the staff.”
Still shaking, Sarah nodded, closing her eyes tightly as she tried to block out the memory. She could hear the duke murmuring to the butler and heard the door click shut as he left, with the duke returning instantly to her side.
“Sarah, can you look at me?”
Taking a deep breath, Sarah opened her eyes and found the duke’s face close to her own, his presence a reassurance and a comfort.
