Outwitting the Duke

by Deb Marlowe

  He looked around in wonder. “Indeed. Already this place is transformed.” The two spindly wooden chairs had vanished, and in their place were two low, comfortable-looking velvet chairs. The fire in the hearth crackled merrily, warding off the spring chill as the sun set. The settee faced the hearth, adding needed balance to the room. The effect was harmonious and pleasing.

  “I hope it meets with your approval.” She knelt on the floor beside Marguerite, and unwrapped a box for her. Marguerite sighed with pleasure as Laura brought out an entire wardrobe of doll’s clothes for her perusal. The little girl went straight to work, tugging the leather shoes off of her doll’s china legs.

  “That should keep her occupied for a while.” Laura rose, giving him a shy smile. “Long enough for you to give me further instructions, anyway.”

  He motioned for her to sit, and once she sank gracefully into a chair, he sat opposite her. For a moment, he gave himself over to the satisfaction of enjoying a pretty young woman’s company. She looked different this evening than she had when he interviewed her. True, she wore the same drab gown as she had before, but there was a lightness and a glow about her that had been entirely absent yesterday.

  Her dull gray bonnet was gone, too, that was a change. Thanks to its absence, he could discern that her hair was a glorious chestnut color. Even the plain way in which she had styled it could not hide how lovely it was.

  He was staring. What on earth was wrong with him? It wasn’t as though he hadn’t seen a woman before.

  “There was a servant woman scrubbing the floor as I came in.” He spoke more abruptly than he meant to, to cover the moment. “Apparently, she thought I was a workman.”

  “Oh, dear. That was Janet, our new maid of all work. I shall speak to her, of course. We’ve had people in and out of the house all day. I don’t suppose I told her that the master might be home.” She glanced over at Marguerite, who was still content with playing with her doll. “I hope you aren’t too offended. Not just by Janet, but by the whole house in uproar.”

  “Not at all.” In fact, the combined effects of the warm fire, the cozy chair, and Miss Stephens had worked to mellow his mood considerably, after his unsettling day. “In fact, I am very happy with the changes you’ve wrought.” He leaned forward with a conspiratorial air. “Just tell me you hired a cook. I am beyond famished, and after months at sea, the promise of a good meal is most diverting.”

  Chapter 3

  A nervous frisson shot through Laura as she raised her wine glass to her lips. This was odd, surely. Governesses did not get asked to dine with the master of the house on a regular basis, at least not as far as she had heard in school. But the captain had insisted, and she could think of no reason to decline his request after Marguerite and Claudine went upstairs to have their supper in the newly-furnished nursery.

  Across from her, Captain Carew raised the cover on his dish. “Upon my word, is this cassoulet? Did you hire a French chef?”

  “Yes, we did. I thought it rather unpatriotic, but Claudine insisted. She said that if you wanted to have a fine English home, you furnished it with English things. But since English cooking is beyond the pale, she said a fine English home always employs a French cook.” She set her wine glass aside and cast him a furtive glance. Was he pleased or unhappy?

  “I hate to say it, as an Englishman, but she’s right. I haven’t had cassoulet for years. This is a rare treat.” He motioned at her with his fork. “Go on, eat. It’s amazing.”

  She took a small bite. He was right. They never had food this fine at the school. Why, this was the type of meal that could fortify your very soul. She took another bite. Heaven.

  “I must say, I am in complete accord with all the changes you’ve made thus far,” he continued, giving her an appraising glance.

  She grew both hot and cold as his eyes sought hers. Goodness, she would have to get used to being looked at by a man. Having this reaction to a simple conversation was beyond ridiculous. Of course, he was uncommonly handsome, which could account for some of her idiocy. It was, after all, natural to feel something when a man like Captain Carew cast a glance your way.

  “But I have a question. You’ve changed everything, hiring staff and buying furniture, buying clothes and a doll for Marguerite, but you haven’t changed yourself. May I ask why?” He took another bite of cassoulet.

  “I wouldn’t presume to do so.” She glanced down at her serviceable gown. “I didn’t feel I needed to change. I was charged with preparing your household and with caring for Marguerite.”

  “You are a part of my household, and as such, you should make yourself a few pretty frocks.” He sat back in his chair and regarded her with green eyes that twinkled roguishly. “I approve of seeing your hair, uncovered as it is now. Very nice.”

  “Thank you.” Her hands were trembling now, and she had nothing more to say. She had to grasp after common sense. How many stories had she heard at school, tales of governesses who had become too friendly with their employers? Did any of those stories ever end well?

  Never.

  She must stop being so silly. Working for Captain Carew meant that she need never worry about returning to the orphanage again, as long as she kept her wits about her.

  She would simply have to turn the conversation toward something other than her personal appearance. “I understood that you wouldn’t be coming here often, sir. I wasn’t expecting to see you again for some time.” She laced her words with a slight tone of reproof, signaling that she certainly wasn’t pining after him.

  “You know, I hadn’t planned to. My thoughts were that I would return to the ship this evening, since there is much to be done before our next voyage. The thing is, I received the most stunning news today, and after I left my attorney’s office, I found myself walking here instead. I was drawn here, you see.” His voice, like his expression, had softened.

  “I see.” Should she even ask what the news had been? It really was not her business, after all. “Well, I hope it was good news, and that you were drawn here for a pleasant reason.”

  “I would say yes on both counts.” He glanced up at her suddenly, and her pulse quickened. “Tell me, what would you do if you found that one morning, you were independent? You had a secure income, and no need of working ever again. How would you live your life?”

  “I honestly don’t know. I’ve never imagined circumstances like that for myself, because I know I will never be that free.” She looked away from him. Honestly, being regarded like that by such a man would stir the emotions of the most stalwart female—surely. She was not, after all, made of stone.

  “Why not? You have as much a right to dream as anyone else.” He poured more wine into her glass, and then filled his too. “I give you leave to imagine these circumstances, then. What would you do with your newfound freedom?”

  He obviously wasn’t going to let her demur. She must answer the question, even if it was a ridiculous one. She paused for a moment, considering. What on earth would she do? Her earliest memories were of the orphanage, later, the school. She slept in a large dormitory with several other children. Her hair had been cut off. She wore a drab wool dress and bathed in cold water. The severity of her circumstances taught her to expect nothing from life. If she wanted something, she would have to try her best to earn it. However, there were some things that would forever be beyond her grasp.

  She raised her eyes to his, willing herself to stop acting like such a fool under his regard. “Four walls and a door,” she replied steadily. “Now that I work here, my dreams have come true. I have a room of my own, and privacy. I never had a moment to myself at school.”

  He sat back in his chair, a rueful smile quirking the corners of his mouth. “You shame me. You ask so little of life, when others have so much.” He sighed. “I spent my formative years chasing after fortune on the seven seas. Today, I found out that I no longer have to seek wealth. I have been given the ship I captained, and may do with it as I please. I must confess it daun
ts me. As a second son, I knew I was doomed to a certain fate—marrying a suitable heiress, for example, and remaining under the heel of my family. Now, I find I can do whatever I want.”

  His direct gaze continued to be unnerving. “Congratulations, sir.” She took a sip of wine, eyeing him with sudden caution. This was exciting news for him, of course. But what did it bode for her?

  “Your voice sounds hollow,” he replied, his eyes darkening. “Don’t worry, nothing here will change. I need you. Stay here with Marguerite, no matter what happens.” He waved his hands, indicating the newly furnished dining room. “I like this. I’m happy with the progress you’ve made in less than a day. I just never thought I would have the choice to stay and enjoy your handiwork.”

  “I wish I could take credit for it all, sir. But I must confess, your letters of credit were the means of expediting everything you see around you.” She waved her hand around, indicating the changes he mentioned.

  After that, there was nothing more to say. In fact, it was better if she retired. It had been a long day, after all, and she was not doing herself any favors by remaining in Captain Carew’s presence. She must school herself to remember her place, and to temper her reactions to his arrivals and departures. “If you will excuse me, I think I should go upstairs and check on Marguerite.”

  “That is Claudine’s job, not yours. Stay a bit longer. It is my wish.” He gave her an easy smile.

  With difficulty, Laura managed to control her mounting anxiety. It really wasn’t proper to be there at all. “Certainly,” she responded, keeping her voice even. “Shall I ring for dessert? I believe Cook has made some tartlets.”

  “Perfect. Miss Stephens, you are a wonder.”

  It was growing late, and there was nothing more Richard could do to detain Miss Stephens. They had lingered over dessert, and he had offered her more wine. There was no way to keep her around any longer, and in truth, her eyes were ringed with shadows, attesting to her long day.

  He was enjoying Miss Stephens’ company immensely, however, and had no desire to be left alone with his thoughts. She had an arch way of responding to him whenever her demeanor thawed ever so slightly that fascinated him. Not to put too fine a point on it, but seduction had always come relatively easy to him. Always, in any corner of the world, he could find lovely company for the evening. Women were, at all times, lavish with their smiles, their compliments, and their charms.

  Miss Stephens was, compared to other women of his acquaintance, far too stingy. There was something about her—perhaps it was the flash of her eyes on those rare moments where her rigid self-control slipped—something that hinted at a delightful warmth.

  “I will say good night now, sir,” Miss Stephens said, rising from her dining-room chair. “I have more workmen coming over in the morning and I must be ready bright and early to direct them.”

  He rose as well. “Of course. You have been a charming dinner companion.” He walked around the table and offered her his elbow.

  She glanced down, her brows drawing together. Then she slipped her arm through his. He led her out of the dining room and to the bottom of the staircase.

  “Good night, Miss Stephens.” Without hesitating, he took her hand and pressed it to his lips.

  She took a step backward, snatching her hand away. Her cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink. “Good night,” she murmured, before flying up the stairs.

  He waited until he heard her door open and shut, and then he made his way to the sitting room. As he crossed the hallway, servants entered the dining room to clean up the rest of the meal. Already the house was settling into the kind of regulated maintenance all proper homes boasted.

  Richard sank into one of the chairs near the fire. What to do now? Not just with this evening, but with his life? Should he continue to stay in his townhouse, and join the fray for the Season? He could see his family, now that he was master of his own fate.

  If he stayed in town for the Season, he still had to keep Marguerite hidden from view, at least until he could adequately explain her presence. Danby would have no end of lectures for him, but most importantly, his grandmother might be disappointed in him. The dowager marchioness was his favorite relative, and he always hid his goings-on from her.

  Surely the truth could be made manifest, somehow. Marguerite wasn’t his child. She couldn’t be. For one thing, she didn’t favor him, not in the least. For another, he saw Lucia five years ago, and Marguerite was six. Lucia probably kept Marguerite at home, with a nursemaid, as he was doing. When she came of age, surely Lucia would have placed her in a boarding school. When she passed away, however, she’d handed her over to Richard. Why would she entrust him? Why not any of her other many admirers?

  He stood up abruptly. This was all a great deal to think about in one day. Just this morning, he had been a mere ship’s captain with a ward. Now he was a man of means and the entire world had opened before him.

  He made his way up to the third floor of the townhouse, where his bedroom had been prepared. Miss Stephens had shown good taste in choosing décor for it as well. The furnishings were simple and masculine, and she had hung a tattered old map of the English shoreline across from his bed. It was a familiar, and soothing, sight. Normally, he never felt at home anywhere except on the deck of a ship, or possibly at some foreign venue, flirting with a pretty girl. Yet this felt strangely comfortable, as if, at last, he could call a house his home.

  Chapter 4

  Richard scanned the crowded ballroom, searching for any glimpse of his family. He had debated whether or not to join the social whirl of the Season for several days, and here was the end result. The Downes’ ball was one of the favorite delights for the ton, and anyone who was anyone should be here. He would finally, once he glimpsed at least one relative, put an end to evading both parental and ducal obligations.

  “Upon my word, Richard! Is that really you?” His sister Helen charged toward him, her skirts flying. She threw her arms about his neck, engulfing him in her lilac perfume. “I vow, I expected you to look like a pirate. Where is your beard?”

  He laughed. Helen could be fun, when she wasn’t dreaming up some ridiculous matchmaking scheme. “Oh, we sailors shave as soon as we reach terra firma. Where is everyone? Is Bexley here?”

  “Anthony? Dear me, no.” She shot him a bemused glance. “We sent word, but you must not have received it. He got married and refuses to leave the countryside. He married Rosamond Hughes.”

  “Rosamond?” Amazement flooded through him. “I thought she liked me best.”

  “Ah, well,” Helen tapped his arm with her fan, “I know it’s hard for you to accept, but she preferred Anthony, after all. They are absolutely besotted with one another.”

  Hm. Well, that was strange. His elder brother was married, and to a woman that he himself thought was his, whenever he got around to asking her. She was the kind of person Father had encouraged him to pursue—wealthy and well-bred, even if her money was new. Rosamond was a soft, clinging kind of woman, not to his taste in general, but she would have done in a pinch. Well, he didn’t have to worry about marrying anyone for money now. That was the best thing to remember during this somewhat embarrassing moment.

  “I am glad for both of them,” he replied with a courtly air. “Tell me, has anyone else married without my knowledge?”

  Helen chuckled, tucking her arm through his. “No, your sisters remain wallflowers. We were, however, instrumental in pushing Rosamond and Anthony together. Shall we arrange a match for you as well?” She was leading him past the fashionable throngs, toward the other side of the ballroom.

  “I will answer the same as I always have—never on your life.” It was good to be here, sparring with Helen. He had forgotten how much he missed his baby sister. He drew her aside. “I have news, by the way.”

  “Have you?” She glanced up at him, a puzzled look in her eyes. “Did you find gold on the high seas?”

  “In a manner of speaking.” He told her briefly of his la
st voyage, carefully omitting any mention of Marguerite. “So you see, once I brought the ship and its cargo safely to port, the owner was pleased. He gave me the ship, and now I am independently wealthy.”

  “Oh, Richard! That is excellent news.” His sister gave him a proud smile. “Are you going to keep sailing, then? Or can we count on you to be home this Christmas?”

  “I haven’t thought that far ahead.” That wasn’t exactly the truth, but it did at least cover him for the moment. He had no desire to talk with Helen about the debate that had been raging in his mind ever since he’d found out he was completely independent.

  “Oh, Richard, you are a bore.” Helen gave a little impatient sound. “Come on, you need to at least say hello to Father, Mother, and Frances. After that, we shall see about finding some suitable dance partners for you. Since money is no longer an object, what are you seeking in a woman?” She led him towards the back of the room once more.

  “Beauty. You know that.” But even as he said the words, they rang hollow. No, he was no longer interested in just a pretty face. If only he could find a woman who was a stimulating companion. Someone like Miss Stephens, who was not only lovely to look upon, but also adept at piquant conversation. If only he could ask her to accompany him on the social rounds that comprised the Season. He wouldn’t be bored, that much was certain.

  The crush of fashionable men and women parted, and Richard caught a glimpse of his mother standing near a table. “Richard!” she cried, beaming at him.

  “Mother,” he answered, coming forward to clasp her hands. “I am so happy to see you.”

  “What a strange trick, showing up at the Downes’,” she continued. “You should have come to see us first.”

  Helen skipped off, returning with Frances, his other sister, in tow.

  “Richard!” Frances launched herself, full force, at him.