‘But if this night—if we—oh, Richard.’ She looked away, her face hot. She was not usually at such a loss, but then, she’d never had to speak of such a subject. Although at nearly thirty years she was no longer young, she still maintained her monthly courses, and thus it was possible that she might yet conceive a child, perhaps even likely, given Richard’s unquestionable virility. She swallowed, and tried to begin again. ‘That is, if we were now to—to—’
‘Become parents?’ He chuckled softly, making it clear that the possibility was a pleasing one to him. ‘I would welcome another chance, if we were to be so blessed. And if you bore me a son—’
‘Your son,’ she said, awed by everything those words represented. ‘Our son.’
‘My heir as well,’ he said happily. ‘Oh, I know my brother will grumble behind my back to lose his chance at the dukedom, but to have a son—our son—would be worth it. Consider that, Janie. You could be mother of a duke.’
‘That is not why you have offered, is it?’
‘What, because I am the rare gentleman who does not believe in scattering bastards across the countryside?’ he asked wryly. ‘No, Janie, though I don’t, if that’s a comfort to you. But what I truly wish for is to have you with me always. My wife.’
‘Then you are serious?’ she asked uncertainly. ‘You know your grand friends in the county and in London will judge you mad.’
‘And I don’t care a whit about their judgements. I’m the one marrying you, not they.’
‘But I’ll become your duchess as well as your wife,’ she said, ‘and I’ve never been more than a governess.’
‘What you are is the woman I love,’ he said firmly, ‘and the woman I wish for my wife. I’d be the greatest fool in Christendom to let you go. I’m not sure I could.’
She searched his face with wonder. ‘You are serious.’
‘I am.’ His smile twisted with something close to doubt of his own. ‘I know I’m not a young man, Jane, not so young as you deserve, but I vow I’m still in my prime, and you won’t find another who’ll love you more, or—’
‘Yes.’ She was crying, her tears sliding down her cheeks and on to the pillow, yet she didn’t try to stop them. ‘Yes, I will. Oh, Richard, I love you so much!’
‘My love,’ he said, and his eyes, too, were bright with tears. ‘My life. My Jane.’
The Signor di Rossi was in a black humour. His little English virgin had escaped him not once, but twice, and with the most humiliating ease, too. When he’d first learned that her great English oaf was bringing her to the Ridotto this night, he’d made what should have been perfect plans. He’d already observed her independence and had guessed that she’d leave the duke’s side on her own, and she’d done exactly that. He’d only had to wait in the crowd a short time before he’d plucked her up and made her his prize. How delectable she’d looked, too, a perfect Columbina in her pink-and-white satin, a plump and delicious dove ripe to be claimed!
And yet he had failed, and let her escape. When he should have been rough, he’d been too gentle when he’d had her alone. Fear could make a virgin flutter with distress, and the only proper way to subdue and ravish her was with absolute force. Her humble defence and attack had been like the sting of a little bee, more of a pinprick to his pride than any real wound, but it had been enough, and the memory of it now was enough to make him wince with shame.
He’d worked swiftly after that, sending two rascals of his acquaintance to attack the duke as if to rob him, to kill him and toss his wretched English corpse into the canal that swallowed all such secrets. Unprotected, the girl would then have been gathered up and brought here, to the Ca’ di Rossi. The men knew their trade, and it should have been the work of a few moments against a man as old as the duke.
But the thieves, too, bumbled and failed, with the one even daring to come whining here to di Rossi, begging to be paid still for the trouble of having his fellow killed. With disgust di Rossi himself had had him likewise dispatched soon after by one of his most trusted servants, an accident near the canal. It could not have been helped, really. There was nothing less trustworthy than a whining rogue, and the last thing di Rossi wished was to have had this one go tattling to the authorities.
He sighed irritably, and poured himself another glass of wine. The girl was in his blood like a madness, and the only cure would be possession. He knew now what must be done. He’d send his own servants this time, people who he knew could be trusted, and he’d have them carry the girl to another house, a secret place he used for assignations. There he could take her as it pleased him, and punish her, too, for the trouble she’d caused him.
He smiled, anticipating her cries of anguish, of pain, of surrender. What pleasure he’d find in such a conquest!
And if the English duke still wanted her after he was done, then he was perfectly welcome to what was left.
Chapter Twenty-One
Jane lay curled beside Richard, blissfully warm and drowsy. The morning sun streamed into the room, for they’d not bothered to draw the bed’s curtains last night, and dappled reflections off the canal danced across the ceiling. With his large arm resting across her waist and her back curled against his chest, she felt safe and protected, but most of all, loved. That made her smile again, sleepy as she was.
Richard loved her, and she loved him, and now they were to wed. She’d long ago given up dreaming of ever finding such happiness, or being worthy of inspiring such a degree of love in any man that he’d offer to marry her, yet now she’d inspired exactly that in the Duke of Aston. He wished to marry her soon, too, here in Venice, as quickly as it could be decently arranged. Her Richard, her husband Richard—ah, was there anything more wondrous than those few words?
She chuckled softly, nestling more closely against him. He’d certainly proved his devotion to her last night, first defending her against the thieves, and then again, in this bed, several times over. She’d never dreamed the act of love could be so—so thrilling. It was undignified, yes, but it was also so full of pleasure and delight that she’d quickly forgotten the undignified part and had instead shamelessly, even eagerly, agreed to everything that Richard had suggested. She knew she was beyond fortunate to have a duke ask for her hand, but she suspected she was far more fortunate still to have such a skilled and pleasing lover, too.
She was truly blessed, beyond all measure and expectation. It was only a handful of weeks since she’d arrived in Venice, burdened with an unfortunate past and an uncertain future, and now, thanks to Richard, she’d wakened from her own nightmare to find herself in a world full of love, kindness and security.
‘Janie,’ he murmured gruffly, more asleep than not. He curled his arm more closely around her waist, pulling her to him. ‘Don’t leave, mind?’
She smiled, settling her hand over his. ‘I’m not, Richard,’ she whispered. ‘Not ever.’
‘As it should be,’ he said, and with a grumbling sigh of contentment, slipped back into sleep.
Still smiling, Jane closed her eyes and began to drift back to sleep herself, lulled by the peaceful, steady rhythm of Richard’s breathing. In the distance, she could also hear the sounds of Ca’ Battista coming to life with the day, the bustling footsteps of servants, someone complaining, someone laughing, and doors opening and closing, the same sounds of any great house in the morning.
Yet in an instant, it wasn’t.
A young woman’s voice, light and lilting, and her hurrying step on the marble staircase as she called to another in English.
‘Come along, Mary, don’t dawdle,’ she said merrily. ‘I can’t wait to see Father’s face when we surprise him!’
At any other time, Jane would have been delighted by what she heard: Lady Diana’s voice, with Lady Mary answering. Richard’s daughters, her own former charges, as dear to her as any true daughters, here in Venice five days before they were expected. Here, now, at the Ca’ Battista, here on the stairs, here outside Richard’s bedchamber and ready to surprise hi
m.
‘Richard, wake, please!’ Jane whispered urgently, shaking his arm. ‘Richard, please, the young ladies are here, your daughters—’
But the door to the room was already swinging open and the two young women were crowding through it together, dark-haired Lady Mary Fitzgerald and her blonde and pregnant sister Lady Diana Randolph, their horrified faces reflecting what they saw as clearly as any looking-glass: their father and their governess, naked and in bed together.
As an English duke, a peer of the realm and a gentleman long beyond the age of rash youth, Richard expected most matters in his life to be ordered without surprises. Falling in love with his daughters’ governess in Venice, however, had been well outside his expectations, and was most likely the largest and most pleasant surprise in all his life. But he’d welcomed it happily, and now that he and Jane were to marry, he expected everyone else to be happy for them as well.
Yet from the looks on the faces of his two daughters, sitting solemn and stiff-backed before him with their new husbands standing behind them, these expectations, too, were going to be challenged. He and Jane had dressed quickly, joining the others in this drawing room. He’d been imagining his first meeting with his wayward daughters and their new husbands with them begging his forgiveness, but somehow instead everything had turned topsy-turvy, and now he was the one being judged.
‘You must admit it was a shock to us, Father,’ Mary began carefully. She was the more sensible of the two, and the one, too, who’d always been closest to Jane. ‘To discover you and Miss Wood in—in—’
‘In flagrante delicto, as it were,’ said her husband cheerfully, an Irish lord who seemed determined only to see the entertaining side of this whole wretched situation.
‘There was nothing flagrante about it,’ Richard answered irritably, keeping his hand firmly on Jane’s shoulder. ‘Janie and I had already planned to wed, as soon as the thing could be arranged with a respectable English minister. Not that I need answer to you, Fitzgerald.’
‘Be easy, Richard, please,’ Jane said. She placed her little hand over his, both to calm him and as an unspoken caution against losing his temper, and smiled warmly, once again the oil that had always soothed the conflict in his family. ‘Of course it must be a shock to you. It’s been rather a shock to us as well. Love seems to do that. Who would have guessed all of us would find the Continent such a romantic place?’
Richard smiled at that, unable to help himself as he gazed down at Jane with more love than he could ever hope to express. How could his daughters not see how happy she made him?
But Mary did not smile in return. ‘I suppose it is romantic, yes,’ she said. ‘But even you must admit, Miss Wood, that the circumstances surrounding my marriage and my sister’s are very different from this, ah, this alliance.’
‘I would rather you call me Jane, than Miss Wood,’ Jane said gently. ‘A simple thing, I know, but it might help ease us all through this.’
But Mary’s expression did not change. ‘I do not believe that is possible,’ she said slowly. ‘You shall always be Miss Wood to me, and I cannot imagine you otherwise.’
Richard felt Jane’s shoulder tighten beneath his hand, and at once he came to her defence.
‘Then perhaps you’d rather call her your Grace,’ he said sharply. ‘Once I marry her, she’ll outrank you, whether you like it or not.’
Mary flushed. ‘That’s not what I meant, Father. Miss Wood has been so important a part of our lives for as long as I can recall, and now to learn she’s to wed you is a very great change.’
She rose from her chair and came to stand before Jane.
‘If you truly are in love with Father, Miss Wood, and he with you, then I shall be happy for you both,’ she said, and at last she smiled—a shy, uncertain smile, but a smile none the less.
‘Thank you, Mary,’ Jane said, and held out her arms. To Richard’s relief, Mary at once embraced her with the same affection he’d seen between them a thousand times before.
‘I only wish you to be happy, Miss Wood, exactly as you wished for me,’ Mary said, still hugging Jane close. ‘I don’t give a fig that you were my governess. You were always our friend first.’
‘Well, I do give a fig about it,’ Diana said fiercely, her hand spread over her belly as if to protect her unborn child from such indignity. ‘I won’t fault Miss Wood, but you, Father! What possessed you? Have you lost your wits entirely? Don’t you realise the scandal this will cause?’
Richard snorted with disgust. ‘That’s a fine question for you to ask, Diana, considering all the mischief you contrived at home. Or have you conveniently forgotten that only this good lady’s intervention saved you from thoroughly destroying whatever reputation you had left?’
‘That was her place,’ Diana insisted tartly. ‘She was our governess. You paid her to look after us, though now it would appear that she was tending to you as well.’
‘Enough, Diana,’ Richard said curtly. It had always been like this between him and Diana, the two of them scrapping ever since she’d been a tiny girl. He’d spoiled her shamelessly, of course; he’d spoiled both his girls, his perfect right as a father. But it was more than that with Diana. She’d not only inherited his golden hair and his fearlessness, but his temper and stubbornness as well, and while he had come to recognise how much alike they were, it still didn’t make their quarrels any easier to bear. ‘I won’t have you speak of Jane with so little regard.’
‘She doesn’t mean it, Richard,’ Jane said swiftly. Though she still held Mary’s hand, she was ready to defend Diana, too, as she always had. ‘Please don’t make it worse.’
‘What will be worse, Miss Wood, is if Father insists on continuing this intrigue with you,’ Diana said, her voice turning plaintive as she turned once again towards Richard. ‘Can’t you conceive of what will be said, Father, or how people with laugh behind your back when it becomes known? A governess for your duchess! Everyone has always respected you in the county, but if you return to Aston Hall wed to one of your servants—’
‘Hush, cara, please,’ interrupted Diana’s husband gently, his English laced with the accent of his native Rome. ‘This is between the two of them, not you. Your home is with me in Rome. Why do you care what gossips may say out of your hearing?’
He brushed his lips against her cheek, then kissed her hand for good measure. These had been the first words he’d spoken after the introductions, and, to Richard’s mind, most sensible words they were, too. Lord Anthony Randolph was a handsome, dark gentleman, exactly the kind of half-Italian rogue that would have swept Diana off her feet, but now he also appeared to have the rare patience necessary to cope with her as well.
‘Calm yourself, carissima, please, please,’ he continued, bending over her with tender solicitation. ‘It’s not good for you to be so vexed, nor good for our child, either.’
‘Very true, Randolph, very true.’ Richard’s new son-in-law was rising in his estimation by the minute. ‘You’re going to be a mother, Diana, and you must learn to put the welfare of your child first above all things.’
A single fat tear slid down her cheek. ‘Then why aren’t you doing that for me, Father? Why are you being so mean to me? I’m still your child, aren’t I?’
Richard sighed with exasperation. ‘Of course you are, Diana. But there’s nothing to be gained from the sort of hateful, slandering gibberish that you’re flinging at poor Jane. Be reasonable at once, Diana, and consider someone other than yourself.’
‘But I am, Father!’ she cried, rising clumsily to her feet. ‘Don’t you see that? I’ve been trying to put the welfare of my innocent babe first, yet here you’ve gone and spoiled everything!’
Before anyone could stop her, Diana rushed from the room, her hand clasped dramatically over her mouth.
‘Oh, hell and thunder,’ Richard said. ‘Mary, go fetch your sister back here.’
‘I’ll go after her,’ Jane said softly, slipping free of his hand to stand.
�
��You don’t have to go,’ Richard said, not wanting to be apart from her even for a few minutes. ‘You’re not her governess any longer.’
‘No,’ Jane said, ‘but I am to be her stepmother, and I don’t wish to begin like this.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Mary said. ‘She’ll listen to me.’
Jane shook her head. ‘Thank you, Mary, but no,’ she said. ‘It will be better if we resolve this between us alone.’
Though Jane smiled over her shoulder at Richard as she hurried after Diana, she wasn’t feeling nearly as confident as she pretended to be. Diana was always unpredictable, and her pregnancy had clearly made her even more so. Now Jane didn’t have far to follow her. With two uncertain servants hovering nearby, Diana stood in the hallway with her head bowed and shoulders quaking, sobbing as if her heart had been broken.
‘Oh, sweet, no,’ Jane said, hurrying to her side. ‘Don’t cry, not over this.’
‘But I’ve—I’ve missed you so, Miss Wood!’ Diana wailed, and threw her arms around Jane. ‘I can’t tell you how much!’
‘You don’t have to, my dear,’ Jane said, tears of her own smarting her eyes as she hugged the younger woman. ‘I’ve missed you as well. But now we’re together, so there’s no need to weep, is there?’
‘But there is!’ Diana cried miserably. ‘Seeing you now makes me realise all over again how much I love you, and need you, and—and, oh, Miss Wood, how will I ever manage without you?’
Jane smiled, deeply moved, and hugged her close. ‘You will manage perfectly, perfectly well, Diana. I’ve only to look at you to know that you’re happy and prospering.’
‘But that’s now,’ Diana said through her tears. ‘What will happen after the baby comes? When I must be a mother? What will I do?’
‘You will do exactly as every other new mother does,’ Jane said, patting her back. ‘You will love your new babe, and the rest will follow. You’re far stronger than you realise. You’re a Farren, you know. And pray don’t forget your husband. His lordship will be there with you as well.’
The Duke's Governess Bride Page 22
