Outwitting the Duke

by Deb Marlowe

  He staggered back a bit. “Francie my dear, how are you?”

  She pulled a face. “Don’t call me Francie. It’s not dignified.” She stepped back, smoothing her skirts.

  “Says the young lady who nearly knocked me down,” he responded with a wink. “Where’s Father?”

  “Off somewhere, conversing with someone about a horse.” Frances shrugged. “Why are you here?”

  Before he could respond, Helen broke in. “He’s a rich man now, my dears. Quite independent of us all. He has his own ship and everything.”

  “What?” Mother’s concerned glance made him feel uneasy at once. Why should he, though? It was the truth, after all. “Is this a joke, Richard?”

  “No, Mother.” He sighed. He had started this mess by telling Helen his good news in the midst of a crowded ballroom, though now it seemed rather tasteless to be discussing his personal wealth amid a crush of people. “It’s quite true. I’ve returned a rich man. I’ve taken bachelor quarters here in London while I decide what to do next.” His conscience pricked him. Mother had always loved children. She would, no doubt, find Marguerite to be adorable, despite any concerns about the little girl’s parentage.

  Still, he could not bring himself to say anything about his ward, or her governess, or any of the myriad changes beyond his own independence now. It simply wasn’t the right time.

  “I see.” Mother gave him a tremulous smile. “Well, I must say it is good to have three of my four children under one roof, and to know that everyone is well and safe.” She turned to her daughters. “You two pride yourselves on your matchmaking abilities. Shall we see how well you can do, finding a belle for your brother? After all, you were quite successful with Anthony.”

  Richard chuckled. “So I don’t get to be an irresponsible rogue, Mother?”

  She gave a delicate cough. “My dear son, haven’t you been so for many years now?”

  He laughed. “True, but never one with my own money.”

  “Well, then, the situation is quite dire. It will never do for you to be a wealthy rogue. What if you give all your hard-earned independence to some…unworthy woman?” Mother lifted her brows. “Helen and Frances, you know what to do. Keep an eye on your brother, and help him find a suitable wife.”

  Richard groaned, but his heart was lighter than he had expected. It was good to be with his family again. He hadn’t expected it to be so fun—even though they were determined to marry him off as soon as possible.

  ***

  Laura bent over her sewing, concentrating on making fine stitches in the pink cotton. It was growing more difficult to see as darkness settled over the sitting-room, but being down here was so pleasant that she was loathe to go to bed. Marguerite’s latest play dress needed to be finished, and sewing had always been calming to her nerves. Besides, the captain would be out for hours, possibly all night. The Downes’ ball was sure to last through the wee small hours of the morning. She could roam the house as she pleased in his absence, and not confine herself to her rooms and the nursery. Which, over the past several days, she had done with more frequency.

  She held the dress up to the light. Yes, it was coming together nicely. Pink would look charming on Marguerite, too. It was pleasant to give a child pretty things—all the things she herself had been denied.

  “That looks nice.” Claudine spoke from the doorway. “May I join you?”

  “Of course.” Laura smiled. She had grown closer to the Frenchwoman over the course of setting up housekeeping. “I’m trying to finish this up. Do you think Marguerite will like it?”

  “I do.” Claudine settled into the chair across from Laura. “She has become quite a belle, you know. Very different from how I first knew her.”

  “So you have been her nurse since she was a baby?” They hadn’t really spoken about life before London. Too much needed to be done getting the house in order, and there had been no time to reminisce.

  “Oh, yes. Madame hired me shortly before Marguerite was born.” Claudine sighed, settling back in her chair. “It was difficult, you know. Madame was very unstable, even before she fell ill. I tried to be as much of a mother for the child as I could be. I must say, I was very glad when the captain fetched us. We were destitute. We had nothing. Even life on a ship was better than the lives we had been living.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Laura had been so eager to run from her past that she hadn’t given much thought to what Claudine and Marguerite had endured before coming to London, and the nurse’s simple confession shamed her. “I am so glad you’re here now. I can tell how much Marguerite loves you.”

  “Yes, but—“Claudine paused. “I don’t know how to say this. Perhaps I shouldn’t say this. But I want to go home. I have a family of my own back in France. I would like to live there again. Now that Marguerite has you, she will be fine. You already see to her welfare. In time, I would become unnecessary anyway. Do you think I could ask the captain to let me go?”

  “Of course.” Laura’s heart sank. It was one more separation for Marguerite to endure, and she herself had grown used to having someone around with whom she could speak freely. “I am sure Captain Carew would understand your desire to see your family. I imagine he would arrange a voyage for you.”

  “Yes. He is a good man. A bit of a libertine, we might say, with the ladies. He was one of Madame’s favorite beaus.” Claudine sat back in her chair with the air of one settling down for a bit of gossip.

  Laura’s cheeks grew warm. “Libertine? Are you sure?”

  “Oh, mais oui. Madame accepted the protection and favors of many men. She adored Captain Carew. Marguerite is not his daughter, but even so, Madame knew that he would take care of us. She told me to send for him at once, when she fell ill. Madame knew his true character.” She gave Laura a beatific smile.

  Laura managed to smile back, but it took effort. Of course, Captain Carew had seemed rather, well, flirtatious to her. But she never imagined that he was the kind of man to keep a mistress. Had she given him any indication that she might reciprocate his flirtations? Her cheeks burned hotter. Time and time again, she had been warned not to get involved with the master of the house. Had she forgotten her early schooling?

  “It’s good of him to care for Marguerite, even though she’s not his child,” she admitted. That much was true. So many men would have cast her off, or stuck her in a school somewhere, but Captain Carew had brought his ward to London, to raise her as a proper English girl. That much spoke in his favor.

  “Yes, he is a good man.” Claudine glanced at her. “I will miss you, Miss Stephens. You are a good friend. You are so sweet to care for Marguerite as you do. I suspect that you, too, have dealt with uncertainty and poverty in your life.”

  Laura nodded. “But all is well, now.” She set to work hemming Marguerite’s dress.

  Claudine rose. “I shall go to bed, then. Marguerite has taken to waking me up at five o’ clock in the morning. I confess, it is too early.” She laughed, and, with a little wave, quit the room.

  Laura finished the hem with trembling fingers. It was all just so much to absorb at once. Claudine’s intent to depart, Marguerite’s parentage, and Captain Carew’s reputation for womanizing—nothing Earth shattering, just a lot to endure at the end of a tiring day.

  At length, the clock on the mantel chimed midnight. Laura snipped the end of the thread and tucked her sewing supplies back into her basket. She must go to sleep. Even though her thoughts were still whirling, she must try to rest.

  She rose and gathered all her things. As she crossed the hall, a familiar voice spoke up.

  “Hello there.”

  Laura gasped. She dropped her sewing basket, which tumbled down the hallway, sending thread, needles, and scissors skating across the wooden floor.

  “I’m so sorry.” Captain Carew chuckled, stooping down to pick up the basket. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “It’s quite all right.” She knelt, retrieving the spools of thread. “I shouldn’t ha
ve acted like such a ninny. I just thought everyone else was asleep, and that you’d be gone for hours.”

  He grabbed the thread from her, his fingers grazing her palm. She jerked backward, her cheeks growing warm again. Thank goodness the hallway was somewhat dim. Perhaps he wouldn’t see her blush.

  He reached down for the scissors and a packet of needles. Placing them carefully in the basket, he glanced down at her. “Did you finally make a dress for yourself?”

  “No, indeed. This is a play dress for Marguerite.” She held it up for his inspection. Perhaps if she directed the conversation back to his ward, she could get over her sudden embarrassment.

  “Very nice.” He smiled. “I am not relenting, though, Miss Stephens. You must have some new gowns, too.”

  “When I’m done with making Marguerite’s wardrobe, I might consider it.” She took the basket from him. “Good evening, sir.”

  “You haven’t even asked me why I returned so early.” He leaned against the balustrade. “Aren’t you curious?”

  “It isn’t really my place to ask,” she replied evenly. She busied herself with arranging the little dress more securely over her arm. “I do hope you had a pleasant evening.”

  “It would have been a sight pleasanter if my mother and sisters had given up their matchmaking ways,” he said with a chuckle. “As it was, I came home. There’s far more engaging company here.”

  For a moment, she allowed herself to be ridiculously flattered by his compliment. Had he really left a crowded ballroom to seek her out? No, of course not. And if he had, it boded no good for her.

  Men didn’t marry their governesses.

  “I am sure you missed Marguerite,” she replied pointedly. Gathering her skirts, she began to ascend the stairs.

  “Good night, Miss Stephens.” His voice echoed up the stairs after her.

  Chapter 5

  “I’ve a notion we should go to the Park today,” Laura announced as she walked into the nursery the next morning. She stopped short, as Marguerite ran to her, choking out a hiccoughing sob. “Goodness, child, whatever is the matter?”

  Marguerite buried her face in Laura’s skirts and pointed toward the corner of the room, where one shabby valise rested.

  “Claudine?” Laura called, as she patted Marguerite’s back. “Where are you?”

  “I am putting the finishing touches on my toilette.” Claudine sailed serenely into the room, tying her bonnet under her chin. “I spoke to the captain this morning. He’s already arranged my passage. I’m to leave by ten o’clock.”

  “Oh.” What a horrible way for Marguerite to find out, a child who already had endured so much loss in her young life. Why, Claudine had been the only person to care for the little one after her mother passed. Surely, Claudine could understand that her departure would cause a wrench. Why hadn’t she tempered the news? “I suppose, then, that you’ve told your charge that your leaving was not due to anything she has done?”

  Claudine raised her brows quizzically. “Why on Earth would she think that?”

  Laura swallowed her rising anger. Giving vent to her feelings right now would do Marguerite no good, and in fact, it could cause a great deal more harm. “Just a suspicion.”

  Claudine gave a merry little laugh. “Ah, you English. So strait-laced. I must confess I am beside myself with delight. I have not seen my family in so long. Ca alors! I wonder if they will even recognize me.”

  Marguerite heaved a shuddering sigh, pressing closer to Laura.

  “Marguerite, my dear, say good-bye to Claudine,” Laura said evenly, disentangling her from her skirts. “After you say your farewell, then you and I will have a lovely day together.”

  Marguerite shook her head, tears continuing to run down her cheeks. Laura fought between anger at Claudine’s complete obliviousness and heart-rending pity at the sight of Marguerite’s sorrow. There was nothing more to say. Claudine was leaving, and she was happy to go. That was natural, surely. When one had a family, then one would want to spend time with that family.

  Well, Marguerite was alone in this world, save for Captain Carew’s generosity, and the same could be said for Laura. So they would have to be family together. A sudden surge of love and protectiveness surged through Laura, and she gathered Marguerite into her arms. “Come now,” she crooned. “It’s a beautiful day outside, so sunny and so warm. Let’s go to the park.”

  Marguerite threw her arms around Laura, and her sobs quieted. Laura picked her up, though really she was far too big of a girl to be carried around like a baby. Today was a day for indulgences. “Have a safe journey, Claudine. I know how happy you must be to finally be on your way home.”

  She turned and left the room, carrying Marguerite downstairs. Once they were outside, Laura set Marguerite down. She was trembling from head to foot, and not because Marguerite was heavier than she’d estimated. No, her futile anger at Claudine was ebbing, leaving her shaking in its wake. “Come, kitten,” she said, lacing her words with as much cheerfulness as she could manage. “We shall have a picnic. We will stop by some of the stores and gather the things we need. Then, we will go to the park. We will spend the whole day there, if we want to.”

  She would make this day special for Marguerite. Her heart beat with sympathy and pity for the little mite who stayed so close to her skirts, and turned a tear-stained face up to hers now and then for a smile. No one had ever cared much about Laura having a magical day when she was Marguerite’s age. This, then, would be a treat for the both of them. She would do her best, from now on, to give this little girl the stability and affection she deserved, and which Laura had never experienced on her own.

  They made their way to a nearby shop that sold all sorts of dainty confections. “I say, let us choose our dessert first. It is, after all, a special day,” she informed Marguerite.

  The little girl nodded, her wide eyes growing serious as she contemplated a meringue.

  A pretty young lady, who was very fashionably dressed, smiled over at Marguerite. “What a doll,” she crooned, coming over to stand beside Marguerite. “Frances, do come and see this darling child.”

  “Just a moment, Helen.” Another woman of about the same age—surely no more than eighteen at the most and quite au courant--spoke from the countertop. “I’m selecting bon-bons.”

  Marguerite nodded gravely at the lady called Helen, and then turned her attention back to Laura. She pointed at the meringue.

  Laura smiled. “As many meringues, as you can fit in that bag, please,” she told the woman working behind the counter.

  The woman nodded and set to work, deftly wrapping up the sweets. As she did so, the young lady named Frances came over, smiling down at Marguerite. “What a lovely child.”

  “Say thank you, Marguerite,” Laura prompted in an undertone.

  Marguerite bobbed a brief curtsy, her eyes shyly trained on the ground.

  “You must excuse her.” Laura spoke up, giving the two young ladies a hopeful smile. “She’s had a difficult day. Her nurse has gone back to France. She and I have decided to just make a day of it.”

  “Well, meringues are a splendid way to repair a trying situation,” Frances averred.

  “Miss, which account?” The woman behind the counter interrupted, handing down the packet of meringues.

  “Charge it to Captain Carew’s account,” Laura replied, accepting the package. “Well, Marguerite? Shall we go?”

  She turned to say goodbye to the two young women, but they were both eyeing her with the most peculiar expressions on their faces. They seemed both shocked and curious. Had Marguerite done or said something outrageous when her back was turned for a moment? Surely not. She was the shyest child Laura had ever known.

  “I beg your pardon?” Helen spoke slowly, as though unsure how to proceed. “Did you say Captain Carew?”

  “As in Richard Carew?” Frances added, her eyes wide.

  “Yes.” All at once, Captain Carew’s admonishments came back to her in a rush. He had bee
n trying to keep Marguerite’s presence a secret. Laura must be discreet always. And here she had said his name plainly, in front of two women who were obviously of his class.

  What an idiot she was.

  There was no way to unsay the words now. So she merely nodded. “Yes, Captain Carew.”

  The two young women glanced at each other, amazement showing plainly on their features.

  “Upon my word,” Helen spoke at last. “Richard’s our brother.”

  From the front stoop, Richard Carew reached for the latch of the townhouse door, only to find it being opened for him. A regal-looking old man, around Grandmother’s age, stood before him, blinking impassively.

  “Captain Carew?” He assessed Richard with a gaze that harkened back to Danby’s many unimpressed stares. Obviously, he was not measuring up to this fellow’s estimation.

  “Yes, that would be me.” Richard had the uncanny feeling that he was now a stranger in his own home.

  “I am Roberts, sir,” the old fellow continued. “I am your new butler. I do hope it’s all right, but Mademoiselle Claudine showed me in this morning, before she departed for France.”

  “Of course.” Richard shrugged. “I understand that there are going to be changes taking place daily until I am well and truly settled. Thank you, Roberts.”

  “Very good, sir.” Some of the dissatisfaction vanished from Roberts’ assessing gaze. “There are two ladies waiting for you in the sitting-room.”

  “Do you mean Miss Stephens and Marguerite?” Richard laughed. “I hardly stand on ceremony with them, Roberts. Perhaps Miss Claudine neglected to inform you that Marguerite is my ward.”

  “No, Captain. Miss Stephens and Miss Marguerite are still out. I understand they were going to make a day of it.” Roberts waved him towards the sitting room. “The young ladies are, I believe, related to you.”

  Richard’s mouth suddenly went dry. He turned and strode down the hallway. It couldn’t be his family. No, surely not. This had to be a joke. Though he had shown his face to his family, he had very carefully neglected to tell them where he was living. They should assume that he was staying on board the Marie Elise until it came time to set sail—or send a crew in his stead.