“That color would look lovely on you, Camille, but for me it makes me think of the Madonna’s cape, and I so want to escape convent colors. No religious offense intended, but I simply don’t care for anything blue.”
“Ahem.” Wolferton cleared his throat. “I cannot change the color of my eyes, Miss Moreux.”
“Sweet heaven. That’s not what I meant. Your eyes are the color of a blue grotto, Your Grace. If I had them, I would certainly wear a color to match.” She returned to the cushioned seat. “Oh, there’s one more color that is dreary. It’s brown…like a monk’s garb.”
“Madame, please show my ward ensembles in the colors she favors. I do, however, insist on the modesty aspect. Miss Moreux, are you now content?”
“Yes, Your Grace. Thank you. I cannot believe I’ve been so bold, but I need to feel free to choose at last and not to be chastised for my preferences.” She lowered her gaze to the floor and then raised her head. “At school we perused the latest fashion magazines from France and Italy. There were girls there who had dozens sent to them by the family.”
“Yes, I assume it best that you speak your mind. I will await you ladies in the reception room and amuse myself.”
After he departed, Jaclyn spoke in a whisper, grasped Camille’s gloved hands. “I meant no disrespect of His Grace. Please help me. I’ll not marry just anyone who asks. I’ve seen my father’s unhappiness in marriage to my mother. I seek fidelity. Is it too much to ask?”
“No, that is why you should choose carefully and not have your head turned by fancy words.”
Wolferton left the room for propriety’s sake and after a perusal of some jeweled hair combs and hand-painted fans removed his pocket watch, having spent a good half hour to allow for all of his ward’s measurements. He tapped on the dressing room door and when told to enter, he asked, “Camille, have we purchased all we need? If not, we can return another day. Miss Jaclyn might be fatigued.”
“I believe we can conclude our time here. We will need to visit the jeweler once we see the décolletage of the gowns. Or did you prefer we use some of the heirlooms?” She went to Jaclyn. “You deserve jewels of your own, and of course, they should be amethyst to match your eyes.”
“Oh, no, please I have more than enough…” Then she corrected herself, “I didn’t mean jewels, but you’ve already given me so much. On occasion, I would like to wear a special cross my father gave me ever so long ago.”
“A religious cross? Is it covered in gems?” he asked and engaged her eyes.
“No, Your Grace. It is genuine gold, though. It would please me, but if you believe it is not good enough for the occasion, I’ll carry it in my reticule for his blessing and protection. I do not wish to appear ungrateful or unsuitable.”
On the way to the carriage, on the sidewalk of the establishment, he heard his name called by a man, Lord Halifax, and much to his surprise, Wolferton’s former mistress.
Halifax stopped, his lady’s arm joined in his. “Fancy to see you here.” He addressed the duke’s sister. “Greetings, Lady Hattersley.” He introduced the duke to his lady, who held the eye of the duke much too long.
“We were acquainted,” she said and nodded, the bird on her tulle hat seemed to quiver.
“Yes. I’d forgotten,” Marguerite said with a smile that indicated the opposite.
“And the attractive lady is?” asked the gentleman.
“Miss Jaclyn Moreux, who now resides with me as my ward.” His abrupt stare would curdle any fresh-made cream.
Jaclyn nodded. “A pleasure to meet you, my Lord.”
Wolferton found the introduction of his innocent ward to a courtesan a total departure from polite societal protocol, but there was no choice than to make the best of it and leave.
He ushered Jaclyn in front of him. “Come now, ladies, we must go. Our carriage waits.” The footman removed the step-down for them to enter. The duke doffed his hat. “Good day.”
He seated himself opposite Jaclyn. She and Camille spoke with great excitement about the purchases made. The other footmen placed boxes on the luggage rack at the back of the coach. He hadn't seen his mistress for a decade, nor had he replaced her with anyone else. There was too much in their past to dwell further, nor did he want to remember. It no longer mattered.
A tug at his coat sleeve brought him back to the present. Camille asked, “Are you all right, Radolf? You seem so far away.”
“Yes, I suggest we forego luncheon. We’ve taken longer than expected. ” He took out his pocket watch. “It’s about ten minutes more to the house.” Wolferton once cared about Marguerite, but he could not allow infidelity. He inhaled with a deep breath, his mind tired, and his spirits diminished.
Chapter Four
The Haunted Heart
Back at the London Manor House, Wolferton went to his study, and the ladies ascended the steps to their rooms for a rest. He was on the horns of a dilemma. From his desk drawer, he retrieved a blank piece of paper and with quill and pen wrote Suitable Bachelors on the top.
After at least thirty minutes of work, he got no further than ten men on the list, but then he scratched through them. All the gentlemen he knew were dissolute.
A tap sounded at his door. “Enter,” he said and glowered at the damn list of nobodies. How could it be difficult to know some good, sensible, young to middle-aged men who would suit? He laughed at himself. He’d have to check with Camille.
Halbert came in. “Beg your pardon, Your Grace. Alistair Lord Halifax is here to see you if you are available.”
His trouble had surfaced. Wolferton placed the list in the drawer and then leaned back into his chair. “Show him in.”
Right behind the majordomo, Halifax followed. “Good of you to see me. I thought to chat a moment with you.”
“About what?”
“Marguerite reminded me you and she were once involved.”
“I was under the impression you were aware of the fact. However, involved would be the wrong word to describe our relationship. Marguerite liked a hot bed, and I had a need. There was nothing more. It was so many years ago I almost didn’t recognize her. Tell me, why did you come here?” his voice held in a deliberate arctic tone.
Not sure why, he handled the wolf globe still captivated by its serenity. He inhaled, rose, and nodded to the viscount. “You’re welcome here as long as you don’t require money. Care for a drink?” He went to the sideboard that held the decanters and crystal goblets.
Halifax said, “Perhaps you’d like to toast my good fortune?” He sat in the chair opposite the desk without invitation.
“If fortune has smiled on you, you’re indeed fortunate.” Wolferton’s smile was still wary of his so-called friend in the loosest sense of the word. “Brandy, cognac, or whiskey?”
With a salacious smile, he said, “Your finest French cognac, if you please.”
Wolferton arched one brow. He poured and handed a goblet to Halifax and returned to his seat.
“I’m glad to know that you can now afford fine cognacs and the like. Will you purchase a pair of fine Arabians or Argamak Turks for your stable? Oh, yes, I’ve forgotten, your stable burnt and you haven’t repaired it.”
“Now, Wolferton, I will forget your comment and tell you my news. Then you may question away. My great aunt passed and left me a decent amount of money because I was her only relative. Batty as a hare, she held affection for me in spite of my many faults. Therefore, I am here to give you this voucher for the money you lent me in return for my promissory note.” He removed a paper from his breast pocket and placed it on the desk.
He thought to wipe Halifax’s smug smile from his face. However, he refrained from such an action, not sure of the reason for his irritation. It had nothing to do with his former mistress. Perhaps there was a hint of remorse that the woman he once cared about had stooped so low.
“When the voucher clears my bank, you will receive your receipt. I trust this will suffice. In actuality, I am pleased with your turn of
fortune. I hope you intend to cease your wagers in those hell holes you favor and take this opportunity to start a new life.”
Halifax roared a laugh. “Like you? I wouldn’t go so far, but it is nice to have a sense of security—something you’ve always had, and I haven’t.”
“I wasn’t aware you were privy to my investments and bank accounts.”
“I’m not, but you wear your assets in your countenance. I admire that,” the younger man said.
Wolferton lowered his head and decided not to let the rogue antagonize him. The double entendre comment was meant to irritate. He could afford generosity to the scoundrel.
The sound of laughter came from the adjacent drawing room.
“Your sister entertains someone?” Halifax asked.
He scrutinized the man in front of him who wasn’t a good friend—or a good anything, but he would allow friendship in the loosest sense of the word because the viscount had a reputation worse than his. It was an amusement, to say the least.
“Yes, she’s with my ward, whom you’ve met. Her shopping spree and all the rest with regard to her introduction take much effort.”
“I wasn’t aware.”
“Halifax, far be it to divulge my situation with the likes of you, but I’m in a charitable mood. Come, we will join them if you promise to behave.” But his intent became a warning to the younger man.
“I will be the soul of decorum.” He arose and grinned, hand over his heart.
Wolferton clapped him on the back. “You’ll never change. Now, since all the bluster is over with, I’m relieved for you. Too many peers have been led astray.”
“Thank you, sir. You are a man of the highest water.”
“And you’d like me to drown in it,” he said as they walked toward the gaiety.
The ladies sat at the card table at a game of whist. When the men entered, they turned toward them.
“Camille, guess who came to pay a visit?”
Halifax nodded to the duke’s sister, but the man’s greedy stare went first to Jaclyn.
“Miss Jaclyn Moreux, whom you’ve met, has joined us after her education in Belgium. She is the daughter of my late best friend.”
Halifax granted her a sly smile and nodded. “Lady Hattersley, your brother is a rogue to keep such a treasure to himself.” He turned his gaze back to Jaclyn. “I am enchanted and rendered speechless, Miss Moreux.”
“Pay no attention to him, Jaclyn,” Camille answered. “His words are honeyed, but please remember, bees do sting.”
The duke enjoyed the banter and interplay, but it surprised him when Jaclyn said, “I have been known to swat a few pesky ones to protect myself. I have a wicked fist, too. My father taught me the fundamentals of pugilism.”
Ahh, the saintly angel had a bite when provoked. He couldn’t be more pleased.
Chapter Five
The Good Daughter
Jaclyn found herself immersed in Halifax’s cerulean gaze, a prominent feature on his boyish, handsome face. Wavy blond locks and an audacious smile complemented it all. Had a Greek God sauntered into the room? Everything about the man reflected the splendor of dress and demeanor. At the time of introduction in front of the modiste’s shop, Jaclyn was too excited to notice. In the confines of the drawing room, he strutted like a peacock. In comparison, Wolferton had fine looks with deep blue eyes and a superior, if somewhat indifferent attitude.
She placed her cards on the table with a triumphant look. “I’m still a novice at this game, Camille, but I believe I’ve won.”
“Humph, Jaclyn, I question how much of a beginner you are since you’ve won the last three times.” She scooped up the cards, placed them into a silver box, and turned to Halifax. “You have a prosperous air about you. Where have you been the last few months? We’ve missed you.”
“My dear Lady Camille, to know you did warms my heart.”
“You found a beating one along the way? But I'm harsh on you. Do sit and join us for tea. You, too, brother. It is a bergamot blend and tastes delicious.”
Jaclyn rolled the cart toward her, conscious of Halifax’s stare, then straightened and returned a stingy smile. “Lord Halifax, are you ill?”
He accepted the cup and saucer given to him by Camille. “No, in fact, I’ve never been better, but I confess I cannot help but think, Miss Moreux, you remind me of someone I used to know. I can’t recollect who at the moment.” He tilted his head in her direction.
She turned her back, strode to the wall, and looked out the garden window at a bluebird on a branch warbling to the others. Her mind wandered to another time when she was a little girl in the country with her father. The birds there were of a different variety, but their melodious songs made her happy. Of course, she held on to his hand, always afraid he would leave for another battle.
No, she mustn’t be sad and give in to melancholia. She sat on the settee.
“Miss Moreux, I’m told you’ve never been to England. How do you find our country?” Halifax held the cup with an uplifted pinky finger.
“Wet. But there’s warmth in this house that speaks to my soul. I’m most fortunate.” It was such a perfunctory answer. She retrieved her embroidery loop and punctured the linen with needle and thread, a process done many times with equal force. Jaclyn must remember she was a guest in a strange house in a strange country with even stranger men.
Halifax turned to Wolferton. “Perhaps we could spend tomorrow morning in a visit to the museum? Afterward, a light fare at Gunter’s Tea House might be enjoyable. Miss Moreux might like to see some of our national treasures. Ladies, allow me to accompany you.” His imperious gaze to his host resulted in rolled eyes and a nod by the duke.
The men arose, and Halifax went to Jaclyn. “I look forward to tomorrow with great expectations.”
The smile he beamed seemed false. For a pound note, she might pummel him. Goodness, where were her manners? She’d been taught better, but…
Jaclyn didn’t think before she answered, “Oh, will there be portraits of self-indulgent Greek gods for us to view?” Oops, somehow, she knew her cheeks were on fire. The man’s face registered surprise.
“If there are Greek gods, I would hope they’d be clothed. I don’t believe Wolferton would approve of nudity to one so young and uninformed.” He appeared to pause for emphasis. “The Greeks and Italians valued the innate quality of the naked torso.”
“You forgot the French and the Turks, also the Renaissance classical painters. They too valued such naked museum pieces.” Then she realized a lack in her deportment in her taunted banter with Halifax, and tilted her head, bestowed a grin, and held her guardian’s gaze a moment too long. “Until tomorrow, if you can spare the time from your other female social responsibilities, my Lord.”
Her inference was crystal clear about his lady, Marguerite. I’m no fool, and I recognize flattery from you is a canard. She turned her back and walked out of the room. Camille followed.
The duke remained with his hands behind his back. “You are not Romeo.”
“Your ward is not Juliet, but I would wager there’s quite a bit of fire in that woman.”
Wolferton stepped forward. “I caution you to remember who she is—my ward, and above reproach.”
He rang the bell pull. “Halbert, show Halifax out before I lose my temper.”
Chapter Six
The Outrage
“Halifax is insufferable, Camille. I’ve never behaved with a lack of etiquette to anyone. I cannot say, but something about the upstart is false.”
Her inexperience with men represented a major flaw. But how was she to gain such knowledge in such a sheltered environment? Again, her thoughts mingled with good behavior and flirtations. Sweet heaven, what would she do if Halifax or any other man attempted to kiss her without her permission? She remembered gossip at the school from some of the older girls in regard to men liking to open kiss. When she asked them to explain, they laughed at her. It was Josette, younger but wiser, her dearest friend, who ex
plained that the man searches for her mouth and if she opens it, he inserts his tongue and they mate. She closed her eyes at the thought. Nothing seemed…sanitary. How could any of that be fanciful, not to mention, she didn’t think it romantic.
She stopped pacing and swirled to Camille. “Will the duke be upset with me? Are they best friends?” Jaclyn paced on the concrete floor of the heated conservatory and shuffled aside leaves from a fallen plant with her pointed leather shoe.
“No, in fact, Halifax is not a favorite of his. He’s young, inexpert, and in love with his image in the mirror, though he is a charmer. The ladies fawn over him, and it feeds his narcissism. Don’t misunderstand. The man is a rake, hell-bent, and will stop at nothing to get his prey. Please don’t be taken with him.”
“Taken with him? I find him repulsive. The way he stared at me, he stripped me of my clothes.” She averted her gaze.
“Jaclyn, there are times when I wonder about the life you had at school. Did you have schoolmasters or schoolmistresses?” She patted for Jaclyn to sit by her.
“We had teachers and nuns, but there was one man…” She lowered her head to hide her face.
Camille reached out to clasp both her hands. “I’m your friend. You can tell me anything, and I will not reveal it. We women must protect ourselves at whatever the cost.”
“The dancing instructor called me out of class and asked me to follow him. I was left no choice but to obey. He said the superior wanted him and me to appear in a special pageant when the bishop came to visit. It would require extra practice so I obeyed.” She inhaled and sobbed at the same time.
“Do you need water, or perhaps a cordial?” Camille softened her tone.
She shook her head. “No. The instructor led me along some corridors, and while I knew almost every path of the school, there was a walkway unfamiliar to me. It led outdoors to a garden so beautiful the flowers kissed the sun. There was a paved floor suitable for a dance. He bowed and took me in his arms and hummed a tune.
We danced a few steps and then he pulled me so close I couldn’t breathe. I attempted to break away, but he only held me closer. Somehow, I managed to slip from his grasp and ran down the path. His footsteps behind me echoed in my ears. I screamed and thought no one heard. I struggled, but he was so close behind me.” She gasped and clutched her hands to her chest.
The Blue-Eyed Black-Hearted Duke Page 3
