Duke of fire

by Monroe, Jennifer

  He turned his head to the side, but Jane could not see his face through the hair that hung in front of it.

  “They are a sum indeed,” he said. “However, we are not hear to discuss the cost of books but rather the education of my son Samuel.”

  Jane nodded and wondered if the kindness she heard in his voice was a ruse, a way to trap someone such as herself in his web, much like a siren would a man on the sea. She was reminded of her cousin’s words and she raised her guard to protect herself just in case.

  “Tell me about your former employer,” he said, still hiding behind his hair. “It was the Earl of Waterwood, if I am not mistaken.”

  Jane stared at the desk as she swallowed hard, her heart beating against her chest. How did he already know what had transpired in the man’s employ? “I…well, yes, Your Grace, he was my former employer.” She could not raise her voice above a whisper. Perhaps it was her way of not allowing him to hear her so she did not have to answer his questions concerning the Earl.

  Then the Duke moved the hair that hung in front of his face, though he remained turned away from her, and Jane gasped despite the fact that she had hoped she would not. What she saw was a stately face with smooth skin and a strong jawline. This man was handsome, and despite what others said, he did not appear to be a murderer. Not that Jane had many, if any, interactions with murderers to know the difference. Regardless, he did not seem as evil and savage as she had expected him to be.

  “I pity anyone who would be forced to work for a man such as he,” the Duke said. “Tell me your philosophy of teaching, if you will, Miss Harcourt. The education of my son is very important to me.”

  Jane sat up straight in her chair. “My philosophy is simple. Teach from a book as well as the heart, for both have wisdom in their own way, if applied correctly.”

  The Duke nodded once and then turned to once again face the window.

  “Very well, then. You know of the pay I am willing to give if you should accept the position?”

  “Indeed, Your Grace. It is a very generous wage.”

  “The cost of my son’s education knows no bounds, Miss Harcourt,” the man said. He paused and then continued. “Several people have already told me of your past. Is it true that a Marquess allowed you to learn from his own children’s tutor?”

  Again, Jane was surprised by what this man already knew about her. “Yes, it is true. I was very fortunate that he allowed me to learn; it has served me very well.”

  At first, the Duke did not respond. However, he finally let out a heavy sigh and said, “Would you like to remain here at Wellesley Manor and teach my son?”

  Jane’s mind raced. This was her last chance to leave, to run far away from a man said to be a killer. However, where would she go and what would she do? This was an opportunity to make money and save for her own cottage, and she would not let the rumor wheel keep her from reaching her dreams.

  “Yes, I would like that,” she replied with a firmness that did not match the turmoil in her stomach.

  “Excellent. Let me introduce you to my son. We can talk about the specific details of your employment afterward.”

  Jane stood just as the Duke turned around to face her straight on. Expecting to finally see the damage that was said to cover his face, Jane was uncertain if she felt relief or disappointment that his hair fell over what she had hoped to see. He did not look up as he walked past her, and Jane followed the man as she wondered what his son was like.

  ***

  “Father!” the young boy cried, and Jane felt her heart soar. He was the most handsome boy she had ever seen, with dark hair and adorable blue eyes. When he saw Jane, he straightened his back in a formal fashion that made him all that more endearing.

  “Samuel,” the Duke said as he and Jane walked up, “this is Miss Jane Harcourt. She will be your new governess.”

  The boy smiled and then bowed with such rigidity, Jane covered her mouth to halt the laugh that threatened to erupt. “It is very nice to meet you, Miss Harcourt. My name is Samuel.”

  “I am pleased to meet you, as well, Samuel,” Jane said in reply. “Are you excited to begin your studies once again?”

  The boy nodded, his smile widening. “I am. My maths are very good, although I would like to become a better reader.”

  “Well, we will make sure it improves, then,” Jane said, which only increased the boy’s grin.

  “Samuel, please return to the house,” the Duke said. “I wish to speak to Miss Harcourt alone.”

  Samuel walked away, and Jane could not help but smile after him. When the boy was out of sight, she turned back to the Duke. Although it was not appropriate for a woman to look at a man so, she could not turn her attention from how broad his chest seemed under his coat and the well-defined muscles under the sleeves. However, when he turned, she returned her gaze to the floor.

  “My carriage can take you back to your home to retrieve your things,” the Duke said. “If you would like, you may move into your rooms tonight. Everything you will need will be provided to you, of course. As to the education of my son, I have the materials necessary for you to use in his instruction. However, if you are in need of anything more, please do not hesitate to ask.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” Jane replied without looking at the man. “I will return this night to settle into my new rooms. As to the education Samuel will receive, I look forward to such instruction.”

  The silence in the room stretched for so long, Jane wondered if she had said something wrong. Finally, the Duke spoke. “Why do you look at the ground when you speak?” he asked, not unkindly. “Are the rumors about me so terrible they make it impossible for you to look at me?”

  Jane was taken aback by the question. It was true she did not look him directly in the face, but it had nothing to do with the rumors she had heard. She was not one to gossip on a regular basis, though listening to the occasional words spoken among those around her had helped her in various ways in the past. Despite that fact, it was a rarity indeed if she allowed what she heard to be repeated from her lips. Only those with a low opinion of themselves—or perhaps too high an opinion—stooped so low as to demean others through careless words of gossip. Had she not been a victim of such tales?

  “No, Your Grace,” she said. “It is not that at all.” She worried her lip in an effort to form the words to explain. “It is…well, you see…” How would she explain?

  “Please, you may tell me. I have no reason to ridicule you.”

  Jane gave a tight sigh. It was just as well he knew. “My eyes, Your Grace. They are of a color that others find…unsettling, perhaps even off-putting. I do not wish for people to stare or speak ill of them.”

  “Look at me.” His voice was kind but held an authoritative tone that Jane did not miss.

  Jane did as he bid and looked up at the mass of hair that covered the man’s face.

  “Your eyes are not terrible,” he said after a few moments of study. How he could be sure when he was peering through his hair, she did not know. “They are unique to be sure, but nothing about which to be concerned. Whoever told you that they were off-putting was a fool, and you should not heed their words.”

  Jane nodded and muttered a thank you as the Duke pulled back his hair to reveal the whole of his face. Scars covered most of the right side, including the entirety of his cheek and jaw, and it was clear that he expected her to react in some negative way. Granted, it was an unsightly scarring, but Jane could see that the man had once been quite handsome, and if one was to study the left cheek, they would see that he still was. She held his gaze, for she did not wish to upset him by looking away, and she found doing so not as difficult as she would have expected.

  “Now, this is not appealing,” he said as he pointed to his face. “I have shown you this for I do not like to cover my face. I ask you never to tell anyone about my disfigurement; my name has already been the subject of more rumors than I care to admit.”

  “Of course, Your Grace,
” Jane replied, stunned that he would ask such a thing. However, gossip did begin somewhere, and the fact this man did not know her must have been the reasoning for the request. “My time here, however long it shall be, will not be shared with anyone. That much I can promise you. I am here to teach your son and nothing more.”

  “Well then, Miss Harcourt, I believe we should get that carriage brought around for you. When you return, Jenkins will show you your rooms.” He led her to the front of the house. “If you need anything—anything at all—please let me know.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace. I look forward to my time here.” Although she meant every word, she could not help but wonder how a murderer could be so kind.

  Chapter Four

  When she returned to the cottage belonging to her cousins, Jane set to packing her few belongings. She placed the last item in her bag and slung it over her shoulder. Anne and David stood waiting for her, Anne smoothing her skirts, although they did not need smoothing, and David rubbing together the thumb and forefinger of his right hand as if he wished to remove something sticky from them.

  “You must tell us,” Anne said, her eyes wide, “is he as horrid as the rumors say? His face…tell me, how hideous was it? I have often wondered…”

  Jane let out a small sigh. She owed her cousin much, but the Duke had made it clear his desire to not be the topic of rumor, at least not any more than he already was. Plus, she had given her word.

  “I cannot say,” she said. When Anne tried to again to ask, she added, “I will tell you this. So far he has been kind to me.”

  David snorted as if he thought she had contrived a story.

  Anne’s face dropped in disappointment, but she did not press Jane further, for which Jane was glad. “Be careful of him,” she warned. “I heard that his son is as evil as he—a span of Satan as it were.” She pulled Jane in for a hug. “Just promise you will be careful,” she whispered in Jane’s ear.

  “There is a darkness around that family,” David added. “I don’t know why, but it’s as if a curse lies on the name.” Jane suspected that the man equated speaking the family name with naming the devil himself.

  “Do not worry,” Jane assured them both. “I know how to handle myself. I must be on my way; the carriage driver must be growing impatient waiting for me.”

  Anne walked her to the carriage, the sun just above the western horizon punctuating the concern for being on their way. Few ventured the roads in a carriage after dark. Too many had lost their lives when their horse misstepped or a wheel broke due to a hole in the road.

  “Thank you,” Jane said as she gave Anne one last hug.

  “I do worry about you, Love,” Anne said when the hug ended. “Please, give me your word that you will be careful.”

  “My guard is up and my mind is sharp. If I suspect the least bit of trickery, I will return to your home at once.”

  Anne stroked Jane’s hair as if she were sending off her only child. “I know you will, but I cannot help but worry. I wish your mother was alive to see what a beautiful and kind woman you have become. She would be very proud.”

  Jane smiled, her heart aching still from such a great loss, even after this long. It was Anne and David who had taken her in all those years ago. Their kindness had always been great. “I will visit soon,” she promised. Then she picked up her bag and put it in the carriage. With one final hug, she stepped up through the door and sat back into the seat.

  The carriage lurched as it moved over the short, rocky drive, and Jane turned to wave at the two people on whom she knew she could count to support her whenever her life became an upheaval. What she would have done without them, she did not know, nor did she wish to know.

  When they were out of sight, she once again sat back into the cushioned seat. The road had leveled out and the journey became much smoother. Jane found herself thinking about the man she had met earlier that day, the man better known to the world as the Duke of Fire. The rumors concerning the appearance of his face were true; yet, though the scarring was considerable, Jane had never been one to be frightened by the odd or strange. What she did think on was the fact that the Duke held himself in a much different manner than she had expected. His mannerisms, his voice, both were kind for any man, let alone a man of his standing, which surprised her. It had been her limited experience that the higher the title, the greater the ego, or so her mother had told her. Yet, the man seemed humble, a distinct contradiction to his title.

  Then there was Samuel. Although she had only spoken a few words to him, Jane could tell the boy had a great heart. She herself would never have children as she had no hope of ever marrying, but if she could wish for children, she would hope they would be half as kind as he seemed.

  The carriage picked up speed, and the sun continued to tuck itself away for the night. Long shadows crept across the road, reaching out to the opposite side. Soon, Jane would be at Wellesley Manor as a resident, and although some of the mysteries of the home had been revealed, she knew many more remained to be discovered.

  ***

  Jane set her brush on the table beside a small hand mirror, the last of her meager possessions, and stepped back to once more look over her new room. Located on the second floor, it was the most beautiful room in which she had ever lived. To her utter amazement, the bed had a large canopy with flowing curtains tied back with ribbon. Although she had never seen it, the servants described such a bed in rooms belonging to the Earl and Countess of Waterwood. Yet she, a simple governess, allowed the opportunity to sleep in such finery was beyond her. And the luxury did not end there. The room also contained a large chest of drawers and a wardrobe so large, she would never fill either. All of the clothes she had ever owned could not have filled them.

  She changed into her dressing gown, hanging her day dress in the wardrobe. It looked pitiful hanging beside the two other dresses she owned, not for its quality but rather for the excess space left in the wardrobe. She wondered what it would be like to have so many dresses she had no space to hang another dress. However, she would never be in a position to know what that felt like. Unless she owned the thinnest wardrobe ever made.

  With the candle in hand, Jane walked to the window and peered down into the gardens. Although it was already dark, the full moon and shining stars provided enough light for her to see relatively clearly. Tomorrow she planned to take Samuel for a walk to better acquaint her with the boy. Then they would begin their lessons on Monday.

  The sound of a voice behind her, though it was quiet, made her almost drop the candle as she swung around. In the doorway stood young Samuel, his face sad.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Harcourt,” the boy said as he wiped his eyes. “I had a terrible dream.”

  Jane’s heart went out to the boy as she hurried over to him. “I am sorry, Samuel,” she said, leaning over to place a hand on his cheek. “I do not like terrible dreams, either. However, we know they are just that—dreams. Do you have good ones, as well?”

  This seemed to encourage the boy, for a smile crossed his face. “Oh, yes, I do. May I tell you about one?”

  “Yes, you may,” Jane said as she straightened. “However, let us return to your room first.”

  The boy nodded, and she slipped her dressing gown over her nightdress. Then she took his hand and led him back to his room. Of the same size as Jane’s, it had a more masculine feel to it. The bed also had a canopy, but the curtains that hung down the sides were a deep blue rather than pale pink as in Jane’s room. A dresser held a collection of rocks and other small items more than likely found on past excursions on which Samuel had gone during his short life. How much the room reminded Jane of Arthur Clarkson, her previous young ward.

  As Samuel crawled into bed, Jane set the candle on the night table and then leaned in to bring the blanket up to his chin. She sat beside him and smiled when his eyes lit up in anticipation.

  “Now, tell me of your good dreams,” she said, brushing back the hair that hung over his brow in an unruly fashi
on.

  “I once had a dream that I was riding a horse and rabbits were following me,” he said. “There were so many of them, I could not count them.”

  “Oh, how lovely!” Jane exclaimed. “And where were you taking them?”

  “I don't know.” He scrunched his brow in thought. “I think it was a place were other rabbits lived so they could play together,” he said and then let out a large yawn. “Can you tell me about your dreams?”

  Jane smiled at the boy as she thought on her own dreams, though she had not had many as of late, at least not many she could recall.

  “When I was your age, I had a dream about finding a box full of gold coins.”

  This seemed to intrigue the child. “What did you do with it?”

  She laughed. “To be honest, I went and bought a beautiful silk blue dress. It was very pretty, though it cost all of the coins in the box. What do you think?”

  Samuel grimaced. “I don't like dresses,” he said, making Jane laugh.

  “I suppose you would not, at that,” she said with a tap of her finger on his nose. “Now, you get to sleep and dream about those rabbits,” Jane said as she rose from the bed, taking the candle with her. “Perhaps you will learn their destination.”

  “Miss Harcourt?” His voice was quiet and Jane could hear the sleepiness in it.

  “Yes, Samuel?”

  “You’re not going to leave me like Miss Hester did, are you? It hurt me when she left.”

  Jane smiled, her heart going out to the child. “No, Samuel,” she replied. “At least not for a while.” Then she shut the door just as his eyes closed.

  As she returned to her room, a noise made her stop and listen and her heart to thump against her chest. It had come from the end of the hall, but she was unable to identify what exactly the sound had been. Her skin went cold and she was unsure what to do. She strained to listen to see if the noise returned, and indeed, it did. It was a voice, muted behind a closed door, a voice that sounded angry.