The Duke of Ravens

by Monroe, Jennifer

  Caroline almost tripped on a stone. “I-I am unsure what you believe, to be honest. You are very quiet.”

  “I am always quiet.”

  To this she gave a nod. The man was fascinating, that much was true. If only she could hear his thoughts or get him to speak about himself so she could know him better.

  Then an idea came to her. Margaret had said that one way to loosen the tongue of a man was to ply him with drinks. Perhaps during dinner this evening she could get him to agree to several drinks with her. She would, of course, stick to wine, for spirits could easily turn against her. However, she would see that he had several glasses of brandy or whiskey and see where that led.

  Suddenly, Miss Lindston yelped and would have fallen if Philip had not raced forward and caught her by the arm.

  “Are you all right?” he asked her.

  “I believe so, Mr. Butler,” she replied. “I’m afraid I was not watching where I was going.” She smiled at him. “Thank you.”

  He returned her smile, and a burning in Caroline’s stomach unsettled her. She placed her hand on her stomach and turned to a shop window, and she gazed through it without seeing what was inside. Had she eaten food that had disagreed with her? The prunes at the morning meal had seemed off.

  She pushed aside the uneasiness and returned her thoughts to the matter at hand. She really did need to learn more about this man to whom she had entrusted her life and the life of her son.

  “Your Grace,” Miss Lindston said from behind her, “should I take Master Hayward back to the room for a nap?”

  “No!” shouted Oliver as he rubbed his eyes. “I don’t want to go to sleep.”

  “Now, Oliver, even if we are on holidays, your sleep is very important. Why do you not go on now and if you are good, I will allow you one small cake before bed. If not, you will get none. What say you?”

  The young boy’s stance changed. “Oh, yes, that would be nice,” he said. Then he grabbed the governess’s hand. “Come on, Miss Lindston. We have a cake to eat.”

  Caroline laughed at the urgency with which her son now spoke, but that laughter died when she noticed the smile the young governess gave Philip. “And Miss Lindston,” she said before the pair could leave, “if you would please see that he is read a story? I am afraid I will be involved in some matters of business and will not be able to do so.”

  The woman gave her a curtsy and replied, “Of course, Your Grace.”

  As the pair walked away, Caroline stiffened her resolve. She had no business to which to attend; however, if she wished to become closer to Philip, she had to strike quickly, or another woman would catch his eye.

  How strange, she thought. She had seen Philip as handsome, to be sure, but until she had seen the look the governess had given him, she had not realized that she desired more from him that his protection. She desired more, indeed.

  ***

  The sound of the waves crashing on the beach was relaxing, the full moon breathtaking, and the presence of Philip beside Caroline was spellbinding as they walked along the beach. Her plan to ply him with drinks had gone awry, for she suspected she was now more inebriated than he was. Rather than loosening his tongue, it was she who did most of the talking, but somehow she could not dam the flow of words.

  “No one is about,” she said in a chastising tone. “Why not pull back your hair.” Did her words sound slurred?

  “As you wish,” he said, and he pulled back his hair over his shoulder.

  Oh, yes, this man was handsome, exceedingly so, and she found she could not take her eyes off his face. However, what captured her was his smile; it was comforting and had a kindness to it, despite his reluctance to speak about himself.

  “Thank you,” he said, though he did not look at her. “I have been told I am handsome, but handsomeness does not define a man.”

  She stopped and stared at him aghast. Had she spoken aloud? But of course, she must have. Why had she consumed so much wine, and on such an important night of all times? How was she to glean any information from the man if she could not hold her wits about her?

  Despite the horror she felt within, she could not stop the giggle from escaping her lips. Oh, really! She needed to pull herself together or all would be lost.

  “This week has been a joy to Oliver and me,” she said in an attempt to guide the conversation away from her bungle. “Even Miss Lindston has seemed to enjoy herself, courtesy of you.”

  “Oh?” he asked, still not looking at her. “And how is that? I have hardly spoken two words to the woman.”

  Caroline could not stop the snort she gave. “When you saved her from falling, I saw the look in her eyes. It was a look of a woman with specific interests in mind. You did not release your grip from her at first. Perhaps you enjoyed holding her.”

  What am I doing? Caroline thought frantically. This deceitful tongue of mine!

  Philip stopped and turned to smile at her. “That could be true,” he said, a bit of mischief dancing in his eyes. “Or perhaps I wanted to assure myself she was safe before I released her.”

  Caroline laughed. “Allow me to show you,” she said, though inside she screamed, No! “Catch me.”

  With that, she fell forward and was relieved when Philip caught her, his strong arms holding her up at her waist. “Now, do not let go, and I shall act the part of Miss Lindston.”

  He gave her an amused smile and nodded.

  “Oh, Philip,” she said in that damsel-in-distress manner of the theater, her eyelashes batting dramatically, “thank you for saving me!” She giggled.

  What a silly thing to do! her mind screamed. However, she could not stop herself; her heart was in charge, fighting her mind for control of her tongue. “You are such a strong and handsome man. I can see why you are not letting go of me.”

  “If I let go,” Philip said, his smile still filled with mirth, “Her Grace would dismiss me for allowing her governess to fall and be injured. It is for that reason I continue to hold you.”

  They stood there for several moments looking into each other’s eyes, and Caroline could hardly breathe. The air around them had changed, as had the hold that Philip had on her. No longer was it keeping her from falling; now it held her close. “And why do you hold me now?” she asked. “Because I might dismiss you?”

  He shook his head. “No. I still hold you because I do not want to see you hurt.”

  Nothing could have made her heart soar more than those words at that moment. “It was the same when you gave me water when you should not have; you risked your position so I would not suffer. However, I know that, in your arms, I could never suffer.” The last came out in a whisper, and her mind no longer chastised her words, for it had joined her heart, giving her the feeling of flight.

  He went to speak, but she stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his. Although it was the first time she had kissed a man of her own free will, his response brought her back down to earth, for his lips did not press back. What she had expected was a reflection of what was in her heart, but instead, there was nothing.

  “Why do you reject me?” she asked as she took a step back from him. “Am I not pretty enough for you?”

  He offered her a smile that left her disappointed. What she should have seen was anguish or hurt, not this affable smile he wore. “I value our friendship all too much,” he replied. “I do not wish to lose such a gift.”

  Anger coursed through her, although she knew deep inside that it lacked reason. She had opened herself up to him, and he dared to speak of friendship? “You told me we could not be friends, for if we became as such, you would have to leave me. Now I am in your arms and you reject me?” She knew she was shouting, but she could not stifle the words, her ire was so great. “Tell me, am I not suitable for you?” She brushed away the hot tears she could not keep from sliding down her cheeks. How could she have humiliated herself this way?

  He remained calm in the wake of her anger. “You are far better than to be suitable for the likes of a
man such as myself,” he said in quiet contrast to her shouted words. “You have a sharp mind, a kind heart, and your beauty radiates upon a thousand hills.”

  “I do not understand! Why do you reject me?” she asked, unable to control the pleading in her voice. “Is there another?”

  Then realization came to her as she saw the truth in his eyes. He loved someone, and that someone was not her. She had thrown herself at a man about whom she knew nothing. That had been the goal of this evening; to learn more about him. Instead, she had acted no better than Miss French.

  “No need to explain,” she said with a low voice. “I have embarrassed myself enough for a lifetime.”

  She turned to leave, but he reached out and grabbed her arm.

  “No,” he said. “You do not understand.” How could his voice remain calm while hers was that of a raving madwoman? And from where had that madwoman come? Had she been hiding away inside her all this time, or had she conjured some angry spirit with her actions?

  Despite from where these new emotions came, when she looked into his eyes and saw the pain within, she discovered she could not walk away. Not without hearing what he had to say.

  “I once loved a woman,” he said as he looked out across the waters. “I loved her more than anything in this world. Her death is a shame I carry to this day…and the reason I cannot love another.”

  The pain in his eyes deepened, and Caroline realized that she had misread him. She could have attributed it to the alcohol she had consumed, but she knew it was her own misguided naivety that was to blame. The alcohol had only brought forth what was inside. How she wished she could remove that pain he carried, but it could not be so, for the love about which she had wondered, he had experienced, and the loss of it had crushed him.

  “I am sorry, Philip. I did not know.”

  He nodded, and they stood on that beach for several moments in silence, both lost in their own thoughts.

  After some time, he turned and smiled down at her. “It is time I took on a friend, Caroline,” he said. “I believe you are the finest friend a man or woman could ever want. If it is not too presumptuous of me, might I be your friend as well as your protector? Allow me this one honor and I will ask for nothing more.”

  She did not need to take time to consider his request. “Of course,” she replied. Then she surprised herself by wrapping her arms around him, not in the embrace of lovers but rather that of friendship. Although she would not have the love she had sought, she knew it was a special kind of fondness. For that she was happy and would cherish it always.

  “You will always be my friend, Philip,” she said. “And as my friend, you may never leave me, do you understand? Whether I marry one day or not.”

  He gave her a nod. “I understand,” he said, and she believed him wholeheartedly.

  Chapter Nine

  Caroline watched from the window of what had once been the office Reginald had used when he wished to work without any distractions, which was often. Philip and Oliver walked down the garden path, Philip teaching him the names of the different flowers and plants as they strolled along. Oliver had taken an immediate enjoyment to learning about what grew in his garden, and Caroline found nothing wrong with such lessons. He was now the Duke, but that did not mean he could not learn about that which many in his position would deem as beneath them, for all knowledge would only make the boy a stronger man.

  She found it intriguing that only a few months ago, Caroline thought her future bleak, one from which she wished to run away. Her life had been misery, lacking in love, her son withheld from her. Now, however, the future was hers.

  The day following her drunken expression of love, she had woken to a piercing headache and a shame from which she worried she would never find relief. Despite his rejection of her love, he had reached out to her in friendship, and for that she was glad. It was a beautiful friendship, and although deep in her heart she wished for more, she knew it was not meant to be. Perhaps, in time, it could become more—when the man had healed properly from his loss—and she would be there waiting for him. For herself, there would be no other man, for in her heart, there was only Philip; he could deny that truth all he wanted, but she did not.

  What she felt was not love in spite of her words that evening; she was not prepared to name it so now that she was in her right mind, for, in truth, she did not know what such a feeling was. Nor could she imagine holding onto such a feeling if it was not returned. For the time being, she would call the feeling beautiful, for that was what it was.

  “With your promise to never leave me,” she whispered, “I will wait forever.”

  How a woman such as herself came from the poorest of homes to be where she was today still amazed her. With all that she possessed and the wealth at her disposal, she could have whatever came to mind, could purchase whatever her heart wanted, yet she had no desire to do so. What she wished for above all else was time with her son; therefore, what time she had with Philip was wonderful but not necessarily the most important.

  “Your Grace,” Quinton said from the doorway with a worried look. “You have callers; though, they refuse to enter.” He had always been a man of unflappable character, but the arrival of these guests had clearly unsettled him.

  “Who are they?” she asked.

  Quinton refused to look at her, which only piqued her curiosity all the more.

  “Come now,” she said as she turned toward him. “I cannot imagine who would come calling that would leave you speechless.”

  The butler cleared his throat and said, “It is Lord Hayward and Miss French.”

  He had been right to be hesitant in introducing Reginald’s brother and mistress. The entire household knew of Neil’s treacherousness, or they had to, and as to Miss French, well, it had been clear to everyone where she stood when Reginald was alive.

  Anger coursed through her as she straightened her back and walked as regally as she could past Quinton toward the front door. She had told both in no uncertain terms that they were not welcome in the house any longer, and yet, here they were, at her door? Well, she would see them thrown into prison for trespass if she had anything to do with it.

  However, when she opened the door, she stood shocked as she looked upon a woman who resembled Miss French only in her features. She now wore a dress made of burlap, not much different from the one Caroline herself had been forced to wear during her day working in the gardens.

  Beside her stood Neil. The man lacked his usual arrogance, and Caroline could not help but be suspicious.

  However, it was not only those two who stood on the stoop. Beside Neil stood a tall man with handsome features and impeccable clothing. He looked to be around the age of thirty, his hair yet possessing any signs of gray, but the smallest of lines shown in the corners of his eyes.

  “Duchess,” the man said with a diffident bow, “I am Lord Franklin Mullens, Baron of Routerly, and I wish to speak to you about a concerning matter that includes yourself.”

  “I am afraid I do not understand,” Caroline said, wishing all three would leave. “Neil…?”

  “I know you said never to return, but I believe you will find my disobedience worthwhile,” Neil replied. “Nevertheless, if you wish me to leave, I will do so.”

  How strange to have this man treating her with such respect. Not once during her five years of marriage had the man ever shown any sign of deference. His actions made her suspicious while at the same time curious.

  “No, stay,” she relented. She would hear them out and if she did not like what they had to say, they would be thrown out on their ears. “Please, come inside. There is no reason for us to stand here when we have a perfectly good sitting room inside.”

  Caroline led the trio down the hall and into the sitting room. Once she had taken her place on the sofa and the men in two of the chairs, she was pleased when Miss French remained standing, her head bowed and her hands clasped in front of her. Caroline did not bother to offer any tea; they would not be
staying long if she had anything to do with it.

  When everyone was situated, Lord Mullens continued. “Madam, I believe that Miss French has something to say to you.”

  Caroline turned expectantly to her husband’s mistress but said nothing, for she had nothing to say to the woman.

  Much to Caroline’s surprise, the woman gave her an unpracticed curtsy and said, “Your Grace, I sought after what was not mine, and my actions might never be forgiven.” Her words sounded practiced. “I know I can’t ever earn your favor, but I want you to know how sorry I am for what I’ve done, and I ask your forgiveness so I can begin a new life as a better person.”

  Caroline knew her snort was unladylike, but she did not care. “And how do you plan to do that?”

  Neil answered for the woman. “She will work at my estate, knowing what it is like to earn an honest wage. She humiliated not only herself but you, as well, and I will see that she pays for what she has done.”

  With a thoughtful gaze, Caroline looked at the woman, her anger now replaced by pity. She had every reason to return the woman’s disrespect with cruelty, to scream at her, and even strike her. However, revenge was a foreign idea to Caroline. Furthermore, she had been on the receiving end of such harsh treatment. Would doing the same be hypocritical of her? No, she would not do those things, for kindness was the only action she could take.

  “Very well,” she replied. “I hope you find peace.”

  “Your kindness precedes you,” Lord Mullens said.

  Caroline acknowledged the compliment, but her mind was on other things. She walked over and pulled the ring chord. When Quinton appeared, she said, “See that Lord Mullens is served tea.” Then she turned to Neil. “I will speak to you alone, if you please.”

  Neil rose and bowed. “Of course, Madam,” he said. “Mary, you will wait out in the carriage.”

  Miss French curtsied without lifting her eyes. “Yes, My Lord,” she said and then made her way outside. Caroline had to stop herself from gaping after the woman.

  Neil bowed once more to Caroline. “After you, Your Grace.”