The Blue-Eyed Black-Hearted Duke

by Sandra Masters

  “I’m not about to wear medieval armor, Soames, but I will have weapons. Thank you for your concern.”

  “Maybe me or Halbert can ride alongside you,” said the coachman.

  Wolferton pondered, “Prepare Midnight for me. I leave within the hour.”

  “Yes, sir.” He left the room shaking his head.

  Halbert volunteered. “I smell a rat. Let me come with you. I’m your batman.”

  “Halbert, Camille will need you to tend to all this commotion. Soames will be busy collecting relatives for the ball tonight. It’s too late. Tell the ladies I had an urgent errand that required my attention. I don’t need tears and supplications.” He paused. “I’ll be cautious. If anything seems peculiar, I’ll turn around and come back. Make sure I have an extra pistol and a rifle. Post extra guards tonight no matter the cost. I leave everything in your capable hands.”

  Again the gut instinct that served him well in the past jolted. He needed time to think and the ride would accomplish that. Curious, he’d heard no further gossip about that rogue Halifax and his goings on. To his knowledge, the scoundrel did not give up easily.

  Wolferton left the room and headed toward the steps, glad he met no one who might require explanations. The personal valet had already received word and his clothes hung on the stand.

  “If the ladies inquire about me, I’ll be back in time for this evening’s event. You don’t know any more information.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” he answered without a changed expression.

  Ready to leave with his weapons and coins, he left the house by the back steps and went to the stable where Midnight waited.

  “Good luck, sir.” Soames removed his hat and scratched his head.

  “I’ll be back. Not to worry.” Yet worry he did. More and more this seemed a foolish errand.

  He headed toward the access to the Great North Road, which was the slowest part of the journey. Once there, he kept a steady pace even though the horse seemed anxious to move faster.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  A Plot for Murder

  Wolferton and Midnight kept a good pace and were at the first toll gate within two hours. In front of him was a carriage where the driver was a drunken young man who drove a unicorn hitch. The driver claimed he only owed a toll for two horses, and that the front one was a cock-horse which didn’t have to pay tolls.

  To whittle away the time while he waited his turn, he removed the letter from the major and reread the contents. He snapped his head to attention—the seal was the wrong shade of red. He reviewed the salutation. The major would never address him as Your Grace, The Duke of Wolferton, either in person, or in correspondence. He was always called Colonel. The closing salutation was signed, Your Obedient Servant.

  It was a trap! No doubt about it. Halifax signed his letters to Jaclyn with such a closing.

  He needed to return to the London townhouse at once. The argument in front of him was still a seesaw of shouts and harsh words. The latest was from the toll gatekeeper who reminded the lout that cock-horses only operate on steep hills like the one by Banbury Cross, and that a third horse anywhere else is a unicorn and must pay the toll.

  With clumsy reluctance, the cock-horse driver paid the toll. Wolferton was next in line. “Which is the best way back to London? I’ve left something behind.” Like my life!

  “The roads are heavy today. Best to go cross-country and re-connect there.” The keeper pointed to a small road.

  Wolferton thanked him and paid the toll. He did not doubt that somewhere further ahead highwaymen waited to rob, maim, or kill. There could be others following behind him so he didn’t want to return the same way. He cantered with ease and once on the road held the pace, anxious to see what mayhem brewed at home. However, he did slow when London came into view.

  At the stable, Soames’ smile widened. “A short trip, Y’er Grace?”

  He dismounted. “Yes, I decided upon caution. My gut instinct told me to turn back. The matter will wait until the morrow. Take care of Midnight. He’s been a trooper. Like the old days, Soames?”

  “Aye, sir. Like the old days. I do miss the old times, but the rheumatiz reminds me I’m better off now.”

  Wolferton tapped his boots with his crop, and then headed to his suite. He needed to verify the culprit who wrote the missive, so he left the parchment on his bureau.

  There was a tap on the door. When told to enter, Jaclyn came in. “Radolf, may I speak with you about tonight?”

  She always brought a smile to his face. Her hair was dressed upward and wound with amethyst and pearls into a small crown atop her head. He exhaled at the beauty of her face, but it was those eyes that glorified her image. “Yes, you may. Do you and Camille have special plans for me?”

  “I have a request.”

  Her sculptured features were always wonderment to him. At her birth, angels surely celebrated. Control, old chap. Exercise control.

  “That is?” He rose to come to her. “I hear the rustle of silk under your wrapper. You have your gown on. Am I late?”

  “No, I’m anxious, but I don’t want you to see the gown yet. Would you come to my door and collect me so that we can walk down the staircase together? Of course, Camille will follow because she’s worked so hard for this special evening. Though it can only be perfect if both of you are with me.” She fidgeted with the ribbon around her waist, but he could see a sliver of silk organza, and he knew which gown she’d chosen. It was a froth of palest lavender with iridescent waves of silver.

  “Your wish is my command, princess,” he whispered, and meant the word with all his heart. He took her hands. “Be careful, Jaclyn. Tonight you will turn every man’s head and if you value my life, stay in my sight. I’m so proud of you. I also request the very first and the very last dance. However, we can scandalize everyone by my proclaiming to everyone we are an engaged couple. I know that’s not done ordinarily, but I so want to profess my love to you. Would you allow me this request?”

  She bestowed a radiant but mischievous grin. “Like forever?”

  “Like forever.” Wolferton placed one soft hand in his and brought it to his lips, raised his head where blue eyes met violet orbs, and for a moment, they blended into a royal hue of purple. Of course, he argued, it was his imagination.

  Jaclyn smiled. “Yes, they’ll gossip. Pressmen will write it in the newspapers. But I don’t understand these strange English customs. Dinner is before the ball, and supper is during the ball. There’s so much food and drink. I’ve never seen so many servants so anxious to please. And we will be dancing through the midnight hour and then some.”

  “Fortunately, it will be our last ball in London. I enjoy the country too much now that I have you,” said Radolf.

  All at once, the light flickered, and the stained-glass window glowed with wolf eyes of blue and angel eyes of gold. Wolferton experienced the peace that overcame him. Jaclyn went to his outstretched arms and embraced him.

  “Thank you, Radolf. I-I-I…”

  “Don’t finish the words, my sweet angel. Enjoy tonight and pretend you have the world at your feet for if I could make that happen, I would.” He broke the embrace. “Now finish your preparations. I have to change to formalwear also. He frowned. “Jaclyn, do you have an envelope that Halifax has addressed to you? I’ve gotten a communication, and I believe it is his handwriting.”

  “Yes, I do. I’ll have Sedona deliver it.” She moved to the door, then turned and stood silent. Her hand rose to her lips, and she blew a kiss, which pleased him. Then she moved to the door and left the room, taking all the radiant light with her.

  What the hell had happened? More visions? Enchantments? Sorcery? Flashes, changed stained glass eyes, but different colors? His terms of endearment, never spoken to any other woman, flowed like wine from his lips, to echo the sentiment in his heart, which was only for her. Most of all he enjoyed the sensation it caused within him—a tiny whirlwind, a gentle sandstorm, and a forgiving rain.

 
; He arose and touched the figures on the window, and uttered, “What magic do you hold? Tell me I am not my father’s son and that you are pleased with me. Do you feel I am worthy of redemption?”

  Blue eyes winked from both guardians. If this was redemption, he could take it for a lifetime.

  Another tap on the door. This time, it was his valet with Sedona who followed. She bowed. “Your Grace, Miss Moreux asked me to give you this.”

  He accepted the letter and she left.

  It took only two strides to retrieve the letter from the bureau. He placed them side-by-side. The fact was incontrovertible. The cursive was the same. Clearly they hadn’t seen the last of the scoundrel. Tonight was Jaclyn’s. He wouldn’t allow anyone to spoil it.

  His valet had him presentable in a short time, and indeed he felt sartorial in his silver- colored jacket and purple waistcoat.

  With both letters in hand, he descended the steps to his study, placed the envelopes in the desk drawer, and locked it. He attempted to work on his ledgers, but he kept check of the clock until he felt he would lose his wits.

  Halbert walked into the room. “Is there anything you require, Your Grace?”

  “Why do you always call me Your Grace? None of the other men do.”

  “Because I am your batman and your majordomo, and it is an honor to be in this position. Therefore I offer you my respect all the time.”

  Blasted, he hadn’t wanted to hurt Halbert’s feelings. Yes, his men knew him as Colonel, but he was now also the duke.

  “I can’t find the velvet box with the ring. Do you know where I placed it?” He opened a few drawers without result.

  “I locked it in the safe and will retrieve it for you. You may wish to secure it in your breast pocket. It should accommodate the package.”

  “Yes. You hover over me like a mother hen.” He recognized the concern in Halbert’s eyes. “I’m to marry. That’s true, but you are my friend for life. There’s no one that could take your place.” He grinned. “But Jaclyn is prettier than you are.” He arose and went to the liquor table. “Have a toast with me, my batman. Wish me a happy life with the lady I adore. I’ll pour.”

  “But…”

  “In the wars, sometimes we shared a canteen of the stuff. I remember. Do you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Wolferton handed him a half-full glass, and they toasted together. “To happiness and a good life for us all.”

  “For you, sir. For you deserve it more than most.” He chugged it. “Your Grace, I hear my name, and it is Lady Camille. I’ll have to go.”

  “Halbert, keep an eye out for Halifax. He’s up to no good.”

  “But sir, he wasn’t invited. He wouldn’t dare attend, would he?” His head cocked to the door.

  “I’ll tell you the story of the trap tomorrow. For tonight, stay sharp. Keep a pistol in your holster. Halifax will be here, be assured. Warn the other men to keep strict watch over Jaclyn unless she’s with me.”

  “I understand, sir. I’m not used to matters of amour.”

  “I can relate, my friend. Now out with you. There are things to do.”

  Chapter Sixty

  The Proposal

  Wolferton ordered guards dressed as guests posted on the premises near the entrances, exits, the veranda, and gardens. He knocked on Jaclyn’s door. “Are you ready, princess?”

  Her voice was merry. “Only a moment, Your Grace.”

  When he saw Jaclyn, it was as if the firmament opened and invited him in for a celestial view. She stepped back and bowed. If only her father, Henri, could see her now. Wolferton lost the ability to speak. Her diaphanous-tinged lavender gown radiated all shades of the base color, and shimmered as she moved. Her arms, encased in lace to her fingers lent her a regal presence. The modest sweetheart neckline showed every curve she owned. Her cinch-waist skirt flowed outward in tiers and tiers of underlayment. She sparkled like the crown on her raven-hued hair, which brought out the sheen of flowers and pearls. When she turned her back to him, the dress curved downward, with a hint of immodesty that seemed modest. He couldn’t explain it except that he was jealous for anyone to see her for it conjured intimate intentions. He would have to make a quick announcement of his proposal to keep the wolves at bay. Though engagement announcements were rare at such events and more private affairs, he wanted the world to know. The ton be damned. He was a duke and his wishes would be obeyed.

  “Speechless, Radolf?” she questioned with one raised eyebrow.

  “More than that, you’ll have every young man at your feet tonight.”

  “I see that your waistcoat matches my gown. I’d say it’s a cross between lavender and purple. How did you know which dress I would wear, since your embroidered silver jacket has deep black roses to match my ensemble? I’ll have to make sure the other ladies do not steal you.”

  “There are no other women in my world.” Radolf pledged to stay by her side to thwart other men from salacious ideas. The scent of her lavender spiced perfume always intoxicated him, but could others perceive the intoxication, too? His emotions amok, he surmised innocence about a woman about to embark on a new path to life. Did she know the image she presented would stun every onlooker? She was the ultimate picture of beauty encased in a body that demanded worship.

  Jaclyn took her reticule and fan, reached for his extended arm, and they went to Camille’s room.

  Wolferton was shocked to see Camille in a silk chiffon French empire-styled dress of emerald green reminiscent of verdant fields. She rarely wore vibrant colors. “You should dress in such hues more often, sister. It suits you so well.”

  A giddy laugh followed. “Brother, would this dress impress a Frenchman?

  She twirled, and Wolferton noticed that the figure in the dress was quite voluptuous. His sister came to life.

  “I believe Dupree will have to fight off other dancers,” he answered. “Have you learned any more French?”

  “I borrowed a book from your library. There is a downstairs maid who speaks French fluently. Having her teach me will be my new adventure. French is a beautiful language.”

  “Dupree will not be able to keep his eyes off you,” squealed Jaclyn.

  The game played was fun and something not done before. Wolferton extended his other arm, and they headed to the top landing of the concentric banisters. “Down we go.” Music played, and the attention was on the three, while Halbert announced them. Wolferton held his head high, proud as a peacock, and his ladies gazed to their left and right to nod with radiant smiles.

  Most pleased and now at the end of the steps on the lower landing, all the guests clapped hands, and then the pandemonium began. Josette ran to Jaclyn, but their demeanor was sophisticated to fit the circumstances. No giggles or silly talk, only quiet words whispered behind fans.

  “If the nuns could see you now, Jaclyn. They’d be proud.”

  Monsieur Dupree congratulated Wolferton, but his eyes were held fast by Camille and the two unknown gentlemen beside her.

  Wolferton cringed when gargoyles in the shape of matron mothers dragged their daughters into the fray to introduce them to him. One matron pushed her way to him with two of her charges in tow. Bloody hell, their figures reminded him of plums. “Your Grace,” she called. “Allow me to introduce…”

  Wolferton moved with haste in the other direction but compared it to a bombardment at Waterloo. He ushered Jaclyn and Camille by his side to the large dining room and smiled when he heard the dinner announcement. At least he’d be able to breathe while seated. The thought that Jaclyn would be near thrilled him more than he imagined.

  This moment was special to Wolferton and the beginning of his new future with the woman of his dreams. Excited to shock all the guests with his engagement announcement, he looked around the long table at the fashionably dressed men and women in conversation. He could only guess their thoughts. Who would be the lucky man to woo and win his ward? Too late, he chuckled to himself.

  He considered himself the mos
t fortunate of men. The fates were kind, with the help of the Guardians he’d won her love at last. Inwardly, he recognized that he had to suffer bad in order to achieve good. It was a moral lesson he’d never forget.

  Comfortable in his own skin, he allowed his imagination to run wild. Exalted at his freedom, he envisioned languid days and nights making love in all manner of ways—to introduce her to the joy of bed sport. He thought that he should have another bath tub installed in her room, one that was feminine and perhaps hand painted with black roses? He also heard that some homes had cisterns installed which gravity flowed down to these with warm water. Now that would be different. He dreamed of applying sweet oils to her body and have her do likewise to him. All that he missed in his days of abstinence would be experienced with his wife-to-be.

  The grandfather clock chimed eight bells, and the invited attendees sat. All in all, there were thirty-six dinner guests. Wolferton seated at the head table smiled to Jaclyn at his right. Camille was at the opposite head in her function as hostess. The jovial mood lent an air about possible suitors for Jaclyn’s hand.

  Wolferton turned to Jaclyn, whispered in a furtive voice, “Whether you recognize it or not, you are the topic of conversation, but no one speaks about your suitors. Are you prepared for the shock that will ensue if I kiss your hand?”

  Oh, he was having a grand time in anticipation of what was to come. It titillated its way to his groin, and that felt so welcome. As far as he was concerned, it was nothing to be ashamed about because it was with his Jaclyn. As if he could read her mind, he wondered what she would answer. How daring would she be? In many ways in the past, when he held her in his arms, she was daring, tempting and tantalized, always demanding more. Her face showed some expression perhaps of a decision to be made to have their special moment of fun.

  “Now?” she asked and gazed across the table while all guests seemed to dwell upon them. “Yes. Have at it, Your Grace.” She extended her ungloved hand, and with a smoldering glance at her, he kissed it.