The Duke of Ravens

by Monroe, Jennifer

  Chapter Five

  The month after the passing of Reginald Hayward, Duke of Browning, left Caroline with a free spirit, a feeling she had not experienced for many years. Free to say what she pleased. Free to spend as much time with her son as she wished. Free to be herself. She should have been plagued by guilt for allowing such emotions to exist in a time of mourning, but somehow she could not allow herself to worry about it.

  She did put on a face of mourning—for the sake of Oliver. The boy had grieved, of course. What child would not grieve for the passing of his father? However, his spry spirit returned a week later, his cheerful smile and laugh brighter and happier than Caroline had ever seen them.

  Now, as the Dowager Duchess of Browning, Caroline found herself in control of a vast empire, through the inheritance of her son, of course. However, at eight years of age, he would be unable to fulfill those duties. Granted, she had no idea how she would go about preparing Oliver for his eventual responsibilities, but she would do what she could to see him ready and able to assume the title of Duke.

  “Poor Reginald,” Neil lamented beside the fireplace, a glass of brandy in his hand, “I shall miss my brother.” He lifted his glass as if to toast the ghost of the former Duke and downed it in one go. Then he walked over to the liquor cart and poured himself another, not once asking Caroline if she would like anything other than the tea she had sent for when the man arrived.

  Oh, how the man was vile! She wished she could simply throw him out of the house, but the man was her brother-in-law and he had just lost his brother. Who was she to eject a man who was in mourning?

  Neil turned to Caroline with that concerned look on his face that seemed so disconcerting to her. “I do feel sorry for Oliver. The poor boy must be beside himself with grief.”

  “Yes, he does miss his father.” It was not a lie; the man had been his father, and although Reginald had never mistreated Oliver personally, the boy had witnessed too often the mistreatment he poured on Caroline.

  Lord Hayward sat across from Caroline. The room was opulent, but it was much more garish than Caroline would have liked with its gold velvet chairs and dark wooden tables. It had maintained a manly presence, unlike other sitting rooms which were more feminine in nature. How was a woman to enjoy such a room? Unfortunately, it had not been updated in many years, and most of the décor and furnishings were more than a hundred years old, and if previous Dukes had the countenance of Reginald, it was no wonder the women had no say in how the room was decorated.

  “Well, I am glad that it is you who will help Oliver grow to the man he must be. He will need extra help in order to take over where his father left off. It is a comfort to know that his inheritance is in good hands.” Then he quickly added, “And his future, of course.”

  This was the second call the man had made on her this week, most of the time lamenting on the loss of his brother. In most cases, this would have been natural, expected; however, with this man she could not be so certain. What were his intentions? Not once had he placed a compliment on Caroline before—outside of commenting on her beauty or some other forwardness—and if he came to see Reginald, she might as well have been away for all he cared. One thing was certain, his current speech made her uncomfortable.

  Neil rose once again. He made a move to return to the liquor cart but turned instead, looking down on her with watery eyes. “Title, wealth, and beauty,” he said as he placed his glass back on the table. “You certainly have it all.”

  She remained silent, wishing the man to say his piece and leave.

  He walked around the sofa where she sat to stand behind her. When he placed an arm on her shoulder, she kept herself from shivering with disgust.

  “You have no husband and no experience with business,” he said, his voice now with an oily tinge to it, like a slippery eel sliding through ocean depths. “How will you ever handle it all?”

  “I will learn,” Caroline said as she rose from the sofa with the pretense of poking at the low fire.

  Moving did not keep him at bay, however, for when she turned, he stood behind her, close enough to smell the brandy on his breath. He took her hand in hers and said, “Marry me. Allow me to counsel Oliver and secure his future, as well as yours. He will be the next Duke of Browning…nay, he already is. And it is a title that needs a strong, guiding hand.”

  He took a step closer and wrapped his arms around her waist. Panic welled up inside her, and she tried to move back, but he was too strong. He pulled her to him, pressing his body against hers. “Allow me to take care of you.” His voice had an alarming huskiness to it that made her tremble in fear.

  The meal Caroline had consumed at midday threatened to discharge itself from her stomach. The man was vile, yes, but the alarm that erupted inside went beyond this man. In her mind’s eyes, images of Reginald and his harsh treatment of her flew before her. She had to get away!

  Yet, sensibility somehow pressed through. This was not Reginald. This man held no power over her, not like that which her husband had used to beat her down. And as the fear began to dissipate, anger took its place. She wanted nothing more than to slap this man across the face, to show him how his disregard for her, for who she was, made her feel. She tried to push him away, but he only pulled her in tighter.

  “You know we would be good together,” he whispered. “Marry me, Caroline. I have always wanted you; you should know that.” His lips came dangerously close to hers, and she could feel his hot breath on her face.

  “Your Grace?” a voice said from the doorway, “I apologize for interrupting, but I was told you needed to see me?”

  Neil released Caroline so quickly that she had to catch herself on the arm of the sofa to keep herself from landing on her backside. She looked over, grateful to see Philip, the gardener, standing at the door, his hat in his hands in front of him.

  “You fool!” Neil shouted. “Can you not see that Her Grace is engaged in a conversation?” Then he grimaced at the man. “No, of course you cannot, for that wild hair of yours blocks your vision. Go! Leave us at once. Her Grace will be available to speak with you at a later time.”

  Caroline stepped forward. “He will remain,” she said, the fear she had now replaced by a wave of red-hot anger, “and you will leave.” How dare this man order her servants as if they were his own? More importantly, how could he even dare to try to kiss her? She would take no more abuse from any man, regardless of who they were!

  “You dare throw me out of my brother’s home?” Neil said, sputtering with anger. “I am blood! You cannot do this!”

  Caroline smiled, her eyes meeting his without a drop of her previous fear. “This home may have belonged to your brother, but it is not yours,” she said, surprised at the authority in her voice. “Nor will it ever be. Do not return, or I will have you removed bodily and the story spread about the ton that you laid a hand on the widow of your brother.”

  The man faltered for a moment, his cheeks red with anger. “You will regret this,” he said, spittle spraying from his lips. “Fool,” he mumbled as he stormed past the gardener, who stood with his head bowed and his hair still covering his face, and out the sitting room door.

  When the front door slammed, Philip looked up. “He is gone. Are you safe…Caroline?”

  She took a moment to steady herself, for the room had begun to spin precariously around her. The interaction had upset her more than she thought. Taking a deep breath, she replied, “Yes, I believe so.” She studied the man who had helped her on more than one occasion. She had not called for him, and yet he had arrived at the exact moment she needed him.

  He did not raise his head, and she somehow found herself wanting to push back the curtain of hair that obscured his handsome features.

  “How is it you know when I am in danger? It is as if you can sense me.”

  He smiled down at her through his hair. “Luck,” he replied. “Or stupidity. I have not quite decided.”

  She could not stop herself from laughing.
“I promise you that you are not stupid,” she said. “For that, I am glad.” It was difficult to pull her eyes away from his, but she did so and moved to the seating area. “Please, come share a drink with me. The tea will be cold by now, but you are welcome to a glass of spirits. I have brandy.”

  “I should not…”

  “Oh, come now,” she said. “Can I not offer a drink to the man who has saved me not once but thrice?”

  He was hesitant, but then he nodded. She poured him a measure of brandy and handed him the glass.

  “Thank you,” he said in a low voice.

  Caroline walked over and sat on the sofa, offering him the place beside her. Rather than accepting that spot, however, he took a seat in the chair Neil had vacated. Well, if that was what he preferred, she would not argue with the man.

  “Neil sought my hand in marriage,” she said with a laugh. “Can you believe such a thing?”

  “I can,” he replied without hesitation—and without mirth.

  “You can?” she asked in shock.

  “Yes. It will not only be him, but other men will soon be looking to win your heart. Your title and wealth will call to the vultures. He is not the last, for many more will come.”

  “That title and wealth does not belong to me,” she said with a laugh.

  He gave her a half-smile. “No, it is that of your son. And how long will it be before he is old enough to take on the responsibilities of that title?” He did not wait for her to reply. “Many years. Therefore, men will come in droves to weasel their way into your life, even if they are only able to enjoy the benefits of your son’s money for a relatively short time.”

  “Oh, so what you are saying, then, is that men only seek my attention because I now have wealth?”

  His cheeks reddened. “Well, no, for you are a beautiful woman; that alone would cause a man to seek your favor.” He cleared his throat and looked back down, his hair once again returning to cover his face. “I am sorry. I have spoken out of turn.”

  Caroline took a drink of the brandy she had poured for herself hoping to ease the sudden flushed feeling that had come over her. She hoped she was not falling ill. Yet, she had been under a lot of stress as of late. Yes, that would explain the strange warmness she was feeling.

  “No, Philip, you have not spoken out of turn,” she replied. “I find myself now in control of things about which I know nothing, and then the brother of my husband comes with his brazen ideas to win me over. With me in my mourning period and the need to learn the ways of business before someone decides to take advantage of my lack of knowledge, I admit that I am more than a bit overwhelmed.”

  “Your husband had no bookkeeper? No one who took care of his finances?”

  Caroline shook her head. “No. He once told me that he did not trust anyone with his books. He said that if he did not take care of them himself, anyone could cheat him out of every farthing and he would not know the difference.” She sighed. “Should I hire a tutor in such matters? Or would it be better if I simply handed it all over to an accountant or some other person who deals in such matters?”

  “I do not believe I am the one to advise you in such matters,” he said in a low voice. “I am merely a simple gardener, and there are those who are far better suited.”

  Caroline sighed. “This might be true, and yet I trust no one here, save Quinton. And you.” She gave him a beseeching look. “It was you who risked everything to give me water when you were told explicitly not to do so, and I have not forgotten that kind gesture. So, now I must ask you again, what shall I do?”

  Philip seemed to study the brandy, which he had yet to drink. It took him several moments before he spoke, and Caroline worried he would not respond at all.

  “If you would allow me to look at your ledgers, I can advise you.”

  Caroline’s eyes widened. This was not what she had expected. What she had expected was that he would suggest a bookkeeper or other person practiced in that area. Had he not just said he was only a simple gardener? However, what other choice did she have?

  She walked over to a small desk in the corner and retrieved a stack of papers. “The solicitors gave me this,” she said as she handed them to Philip. “The ledgers on the shelf contain more information.”

  Philip set his glass on a side table and came to stand beside her. It was strange, but his nearness made her knees weak. Or was it that midday meal again? She once again felt a burning feeling throughout her body, but she knew it was not a fever. Strange.

  “May I look over the papers?” he asked.

  She looked down and realized that she still held what she had been given by the solicitors. With a nod of her head, she handed him the information and then hurried back over to the seating area. Pouring herself a cup of tea, she drank the entire glass to quench her parched throat. As she had suspected, it was cold.

  Philip moved his hair back over an ear and studied the paperwork, his lips moving slightly as he read in a most endearing manner. How handsome he looked standing there by the desk, as if he belonged there.

  Caroline was unsure as to what she should do while she waited. Oliver was busy with his studies, and she thought it best to remain here watching over Philip. It would never do to leave the gardener alone in the sitting room, would it? It had nothing to do with her wanting to watch him. At least that is what she told herself as she took a drink of the brandy she had not even noticed that she had picked up off the table.

  ***

  Caroline had not considered herself one for enjoying the drinking of spirits; however, she found herself enjoying it as she watched Philip. He had finally sat in the chair in front of the desk after pulling first one ledger and then another from the shelf and reading through them as if reading a book. The way he studied the pages as he turned them was somehow…alluring.

  She giggled as she looked down at her glass, the third thus far, much to her surprise. It was time to stop, for she would make a fool of herself as well as embarrass the poor man.

  “The books have been well-kept,” he said finally. “All his affairs seem to be in order. You have properties in town as well as in London and Bath. Most of the fortune was made in those properties; although it seems that shipping has been the main focus as of late.”

  She had known about the properties in town, as well as London. “Bath? I did not realize he had property in Bath.” She rose and stood to gaze down at the page full of numbers, none of it making sense to her.

  Philip nodded. “It appears he has property with several cottages on a large plot of land there. The tenants all pay their rents on time, and it brings in a nice sum.”

  “Please, go on.”

  “Well, with the income from the real estate alone, you and Oliver will never have to worry about anything. As I said, there are the rents in Bath, but most of the properties in London are storefronts, which bring in an even larger sum of money.” He closed the ledger in front of him. “You have enough money coming in to not only maintain this home, but it will also afford to buy any luxury you desire. Taking into account the money and his business ventures in shipping, Oliver’s grandchildren should never want for anything. If it is managed properly, of course.”

  Caroline let out a relieved sigh and placed her hand on Philip’s arm, surprised at the muscles beneath the sleeves of his shirt. He gave a slight tremor, as if her touch pained him, and she withdrew her hand. What had she been thinking, putting her hands on the man?

  “You have explained what I could not understand,” she said. Then a new thought came to her. “How is it that you speak so eloquently and are so educated?”

  “For a gardener, you mean?”

  Her cheeks burned. “Yes,” she whispered, embarrassed that she would have been so rude.

  He chuckled, seeming to not be offended by her words. “Like you, I was fortunate enough to have things taught to me.”

  She could not help but be curious about his past. However, that would come later, if at all. He was her gardener, a
fter all, not a man she should be asking intimate questions about his life. “Do you suggest I find someone to manage the estate for me?”

  He leaned back in the chair and pulled his hair back over his ear once again, silent for a moment. Then he said, “There are those in town who are of good repute. There is the Baily family. My advice would be to allow Marcus Baily to manage your holdings. Not that I believe you could not do it yourself if given proper instruction; however, for their cost versus the time it would allow you to spend time with your son and attend to your duties as the Dowager Duchess, it would be a wise decision.”

  Caroline smiled. “You save me from thirst, protect me from those who seek to use me for their own gain, and guide me in business. I have promised to repay you three times, and yet you still ask for nothing in return?”

  He rose from the chair, their bodies less than a hands-width apart. As he looked down on her, she thought her knees would buckle beneath her.

  “I do not seek any payment,” he said quietly. “I only ask that you allow me to remain here working on your grounds. I need nothing more.”

  Caroline stared up at him, and that feeling of freedom returned. She was now free to make her own decisions. She knew nothing of the world, yet this man did. He was kind and generous with his knowledge, and although she could not explain the reason, behind those soft, blue eyes she could see he would never hurt or use her in any way.

  “I cannot have you as my gardener anymore,” she whispered. “I need you as my protector. Someone who can escort me into town, to keep me safe from men who seek my hand only as a means to reach my son’s wealth. And to advise me when I need strength. Will you do this for me?”

  He rubbed his chin and seemed to consider her offer. “There are those who would be far more suitable for such a position,” he said finally. “It would be wise to choose someone other than your gardener.”

  She smiled as she returned her hand to his arm. This time the trembling was not there. “It is because of that advice that I want you,” she said. She knew her cheeks had to be bright red, for her face was aflame. “Will you accept?”