Outwitting the Duke

by Deb Marlowe

  He gave her the merest flicker of a glance, amusement brewing in his dark blue eyes. “I’m Richard Carew.”

  “Captain.” What on earth should she do next? Curtsey or apologize? “I am so sorry, you must think me terribly insolent.” She managed to say it in a rush without tripping over her words, as she curtsied briefly, keeping her eyes trained dutifully on the bare parquet floor.

  “Oh, never mind that.” He grabbed her by the hand. “Look, the only room I’ve got furniture in is the sitting room. Is it all right if we speak in there?”

  “Certainly.” How odd that he would even ask her opinion, for it was really his decisions that mattered. As far as she was concerned, they could stand on one foot on the head of a pin to do the interview. It didn’t matter where, so long as she was able to secure the position.

  Captain Carew, still holding her by the hand, tugged her down the vacant hallway, their footsteps echoing on the wooden floor.

  “Here.” He pulled her into a room that was completely stripped of all ornamentation, save two small wooden chairs and a spindly table near the fireplace. Even the windows were bereft of curtains, and the morning sun streaming in was bright enough to hurt her eyes. The captain loosened his grip on her and indicated one of the chairs with a brief nod of his head. She sank onto it, eyeing him expectantly. Surely he would give some sort of explanation for all of this strangeness. Gentlemen didn’t live in bare houses, and they certainly didn’t live alone, without staff of any kind. Why was he even in search of a governess? There seemed to be no children about.

  Captain Carew clasped his arms behind him and began pacing the floor as he might pace the deck of a ship. Laura took this opportunity to get a better look at her potential employer. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and his skin was tanned. He must have been at sea for some time to be so brown. He was clean-shaven, and his dark brown hair was cropped close to his head. As he paced, she could detect the flex of his muscles beneath his shirt sleeves.

  He stopped pacing abruptly and fixed her with a piercing glance. Laura dropped her gaze to the floor, heat rushing to her cheeks. She’d been ogling him so rudely, and she had been caught.

  “I owe you an explanation,” he began. “You have every right to stare. I know how this must look. A vacant house, no servants—it’s strange, I know. The thing is, I’ve only just rented this place. I’ve been ashore for exactly two days. I just got back from the West Indies, and I have a child.”

  Richard watched in fascination as the color rose in Miss Stephens’s cheeks anew. It had been so long since he’d been around a proper British young woman, and he’d forgotten how prettily they could blush. Miss Stephens had, since he had offered her a chair, held herself quietly with her hands folded in her lap. Yet there was something about the set of her shoulders that spoke of determination and grace. It was almost as though she were holding herself in check.

  What would happen if she slipped her own leash?

  She raised her eyes to his. “A child?”

  “Yes.” Better to get back to business. His thoughts were straying down unprofessional territory and that could only lead to disaster. “A ward, left to me by a former…friend who passed away.” He couldn’t tell this impressionable young woman about his real relationship with Marguerite’s mother. “She is six years old, and can speak French, Dutch, and English. She was brought up in the West Indies, but it is my wish that she have a proper English upbringing.”

  Miss Stephens nodded. “I understand, sir.”

  “Good.” Perhaps, then, she would be his partner in this endeavor. “I rented this townhouse when we returned, but I have nothing with which to furnish it. Marguerite has been sleeping on pallets upstairs with her maid, Claudine. I’ve been staying in my ship at night. So you see, Miss Stephens, I need a governess to raise Marguerite, and I need you to also make a home for her. I suppose you were well-trained at this school you went to? Pray, where are you from?”

  “I grew up at the Lime Street Orphanage, and took full advantage of their training at the orphanage school to become a governess, sir. Miss Pickard, my last instructor, can provide you with particulars—“

  “No, never mind that.” He waved his hand as though irritated by the mere thought of Miss Pickard. “Until you order the furniture, I am afraid you’ll have to join Marguerite and Claudine, sleeping on pallets.”

  “Pallets are hardly ideal, sir.” Miss Stephens glanced up at him, her entire being poised on the edge of the chair. “So, am I to understand that I have the job?”

  “Yes, of course. You come well recommended from that school you’ve been living in. Moreover, you look like a respectable young woman.” And of course, he was quite desperate. Trying to keep Marguerite entertained on the voyage home had been trying enough. Now that he was home, he needed to focus on getting his ship ready for the next voyage.

  Miss Stephens gave him a beatific smile and her posture relaxed ever so slightly. “Thank you, sir. I shall endeavor to bring Miss Marguerite up right, and to create a nice home for her.”

  “Excellent, excellent.” She had such a pretty smile. Pity she didn’t smile more often, but then, perhaps she was trying to appear serious for his benefit. “I will give you letters of credit to take round to the shops. Furnish this place as you see fit. I’ll also need for you to hire a full staff. I’ve been bringing meals over from the inns nearby, but Marguerite needs nursery foods.”

  “Certainly, sir. I will, of course, confer with you on every detail. I want to make sure you are happy with the home and with Marguerite’s progress.” She gave him a brief, businesslike nod. “Will you introduce me to Marguerite now?”

  “In a moment.” He paused. “I don’t require for you to check in with me on every point of detail. In fact, I do not plan to be here very often. I am fitting my ship out for our next voyage, and this is a job that requires all of my energy. I have no time for this other endeavor, Miss Stephens. I am entrusting you with it completely.”

  “Oh.” The light went out of her expression. “I understand.”

  “You think less of me because of this?” As soon as he spoke, he wished he could take the words back. How his men would laugh if they saw him so weakened, so nonplussed by a pretty face.

  “No, no, of course not, sir. You have much to do, I am certain.” Resignation swept over her features, and she rose. “May I begin today, then?”

  “Yes. But before we proceed, there is one more matter.” He faced her squarely. It was better to have it all out in the open—this part of the operation, anyway. Marguerite’s murky parentage aside, this was the most crucial factor in this undertaking. “You must remain completely secretive about me and about my connection with Marguerite. You see, my family would be in uproar if they knew I had a ward that I was raising on my own. I am taking a risk by setting up a residence here in London, especially during the Season, but it cannot be helped.”

  “The Season? Your people move in Society, then?” She gave him a curious glance.

  “You could say as much,” he agreed, giving an inward sigh. “My father is the Marquess of Westchester. My great-uncle is the Duke of Danby.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes widened.

  He gave an inward groan. Yes, his family connections had a habit of taking the wind out of people’s sails, if they didn’t know who he was. This was why he preferred life as a sailor, free of all the constraints of being the second son of a marquess. “Anyway, I am putting back out to sea as soon as I can. Once I am safely out of London, I am quite out of their range. But I must ask you to please respect my wishes in the meantime. There would be no end to the speculation, the interference, and the bickering we would all be subject to if my family found out.” It was ridiculous to have to say it so plainly, and yet it was true.

  As second son, he was under his family’s thumb and well he knew it. He would be lectured within an inch of his life, and then married off to some bland young lady of his great-uncle’s choosing, and made to live within a stone’s throw o
f his brother so that he could never escape the scrutiny of his relatives again. His seafaring days would be over. After this last harrowing journey, he had his doubts about spending his life on a ship, but he wanted that to be his decision—not his family’s.

  In the meantime, he would have to see how much fortune he had made and whether he had enough to retire comfortably, or if he would need to strike out on his own again. With Miss Stephens’ help, Marguerite would be nicely taken care of. He need never worry about her again.

  “I shall keep your confidence, sir.” Miss Stephens gave him a tentative smile. “Thank you for entrusting it to me. I’d like to meet Marguerite now, if I may.”

  He nodded, exhaling deeply as he did so. She understood, and she didn’t ask questions. This was working out better than he had hoped. “This way, Miss Stephens.”

  Chapter 2

  “Goodness, child, your hair is an absolute bird’s nest.” Laura grasped Marguerite’s blonde curls in her left hand, as Claudine handed her the hairbrush, for though the maid had tried to comb through Marguerite’s hair, she was so rough that the little girl cried. It was now Laura’s turn to try. She worked slowly, untangling each lock little by little, so as not to make the girl cry. Infinite patience was required when one’s hair was this badly treated. At school, her own hair had been shorn off more than once by outraged teachers. How often had she been told that her bright chestnut curls were not suitable for a young woman of her position in life? “Shear it off,” Miss Pickard had always ordered. “Laura is a pauper and needs to learn her place.”

  Sudden tears leapt to her eyes at the memory, and she blinked fiercely to clear them. Captain Carew offered her freedom from the tyranny of the orphanage, as long as she kept her counsel and did as she was told. In fact, Laura had snuggled down on her pallet in her own room last night, breathing a thankful prayer that she need never return unless she chose to. And that would never happen.

  “Claudine, we must obtain servants today. At the very least, we need a cook and a maid of all work,” Laura mused, concentrating on a particularly vicious knot. “Do you know where we might find applicants?”

  “We could try at the nearby inn,” Claudine replied, in her singsong accent. “Perhaps they know.”

  “Good.” Having eased the last tangle out of Marguerite’s hair, Laura tied it back, securing it with a grosgrain ribbon. “There. Now you look like a proper English girl.” She turned her charge around and smiled.

  The little girl gave her a wan smile in return, dark smudges ringing her brown eyes. “Merci.”

  The poor thing seemed absolutely spiritless. She must have been on board ship for weeks, after the loss of her mother, and now she was cooped up in a vacant room, sleeping on a hard floor with just her maid for company. Until she regained her spirits, there was no use trying to teach her anything.

  “Claudine, has Marguerite any clothes, other than the dress she is wearing?” Laura turned to the maid, as a plan for the day began to form in her mind.

  “No, just the one dress and her nightgown.” Claudine shrugged. “We had to burn everything, after her mama died of the fever. We didn’t want the sickness to spread.”

  “Everything? Has she any toys, or books?”

  “No, miss. We have a hairbrush, and a mirror, and the two articles of clothing I mentioned.” Claudine sighed. “It has been most depressing. We had to leave all we knew. After madame died, and the captain fetched us, we have had nothing. Bien sur, I am glad that we finally have you. I was so dispirited, I was ready to give up.”

  That depression could account for the state of Marguerite’s hair, which should never have been allowed to become so matted and tangled. Laura gave them both a bracing smile. “Well, we don’t have that attitude in Britain. We must meet this challenge head on.” She took Marguerite’s hand. “I have letters of credit to every shop you can imagine. We have the wherewithal to hire a full staff. So we have no excuse for puttering around here any longer. Claudine, you are to go to the Inn and request help for the house. I shall take Marguerite shopping. By this evening, we shall be sitting down to a proper meal. Each day this week, life will get better. You’ll see.”

  “Very well.” Claudine rose from her position on the floor. “At the very least, a cook and a maid of all work?”

  “Yes. More if we can find them, although I suppose we should be choosy. After all, the captain wants a nice, comfortable English home for his ward. We must make sure the servants we hire can help us realize our goals.” She rose too, her mind spinning with plans. “Come along, Miss Marguerite.”

  She was halfway down the stairs when Marguerite tugged imperiously at her skirt. She paused, looking down at her charge. As yet, the little one had barely spoken two words together. “Yes?”

  Marguerite held her arms before her, as though cradling a baby. “Poupee? A doll?” She whispered the words so that Laura had to stoop to hear them.

  “A doll?” Of course. The poor thing had nothing, after all. It was almost criminal that she not have a single toy left in all the world. “We shall stop at the toy shop first, before we go anywhere else.”

  She was rewarded with Marguerite’s rare smile, more exceptional even than her whispered phrases. The little girl tucked her hand into Laura’s, practically leading her governess the rest of the way down the stairs.

  Laura could not resist smiling too. Already, the day had a holidayish air about it. She, who had never had a room of her own, was now charged with furnishing an entire house to perfection. What’s more, she would have the fun of buying Marguerite all the toys and books and games that she herself had been denied for as long as she could remember.

  She fairly skipped out of the front door. Today was going to be a lovely day.

  Richard pushed his way through the crowds as he made his way back to the townhouse. A carriage would have been faster, but he needed the time to think. The attorney’s words still echoed in his mind.

  “The ship is yours now,” he had said, handing Richard a letter. “The owner was that impressed with how you managed not only to bring it to port in the West Indies after the death of the captain and first mate, but that you also brought the cargo back home. And not a crewmember lost or deserted, despite the uncertainty after the captain died at sea.”

  “I was merely fulfilling my duty.” Richard shrugged. “A second mate has to step up when needed.”

  “Duty or not, it is a rather astonishing feat.” The attorney settled his spectacles more firmly on the bridge of his nose. “The owner is getting out of the shipping business, and as it stands, he’s grateful you didn’t cost him a great loss. What can I say?He is grateful for your service, and he’s given you the ship. You’re no longer the captain, unless you wish it. You can hire your own crew and sit back and relax here in the comfort of your London home.”

  He was the owner of a ship, no longer merely crew. He pushed past a group of men idling on the sidewalk and dodged a peddler. He had earned money enough to provide for his ward, but this news meant something else altogether. He was now an independent man. It didn’t matter that his father’s fortune would go to Bexley, his elder brother. He had money enough now that he needn’t marry an heiress. He could do as he pleased.

  It was a most unsettling thought. For years, his pattern in life had been set. Sail the high seas, chase after adventure, pursue pretty women, and escape his family’s leash. Being saddled with a ward wasn’t going to slow him down in the least.

  He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets as he turned onto his street. Now his plans could change, if he wished it. He could hire everything out and sit back, as his attorney had suggested, as the money continued to roll in.

  Somehow, that didn’t sound quite as bad as it used to. He hated to admit it, but his shoulders were atrociously sore after sleeping in a hammock on board as he had last night. Perhaps it was time to enjoy sleeping in a regular bed.

  He bounded up the steps and jerked open the door to his townhouse. As he stepped into t
he entry way, a shrill female voice cried out, “’Ere! Watch where you’re going. I’ve just scrubbed this floor, and I won’t have it muddied up.”

  He fell back a step, frowning down at the strange older woman who was kneeling on the tiled floor. “I beg your pardon.”

  “Never mind.” She gave him a dismissive wave. “Go on to the back. She’s waiting for you there. Take anything you’ve got with you, she’ll know what to do.”

  He closed the door behind him and made his way to the back sitting room, his confusion mounting with each step. Everywhere he looked, workmen were installing pictures or carrying furniture. All was movement and noise, and since he had only ever known this house to be silent and vacant, the cacophony was nigh overwhelming.

  He opened the sitting-room door to find Miss Stephens standing in the middle of the room, directing two men on the proper placement of a sofa. As he stepped inside, Marguerite trotted up to him. Her normally tangled curls had been smoothed and secured with a bow. Her fussy black dress was gone and in its place, she was wearing a charmingly simple lavender frock. She held up a china doll, her eyes sparkling with pride.

  “I see,” he murmured, nodding at her. “Very nice.” His gift of talking to children was decidedly rusty. It had been a long time, after all, since he had been a child himself.

  Miss Stephens whirled around. “Sir,” she exclaimed. “I had no idea you would return today. I would never have allowed chaos to take over, had I known you were to be here.”

  Come to think of it, he hadn’t planned on it either. Why had he stopped by here? After leaving his attorney’s office, it just seemed the natural thing to do. “I’ll stay this evening if I may.”

  “Of course. This is your home, after all.” She nodded to the two men and scribbled her signature on the piece of paper one of them offered to her. “If you would please, bring the bedroom furniture to the top bedroom, the one on the third floor.” After the two men had left, she smiled at him. “Good thing I ordered for your room as well.”