To Trust a Duke

by Aston, Alexa

  “I’m sorry we’re meeting under such sad circumstances,” he told them. “Once things have calmed down and I have a better idea of my new responsibilities, I hope the four of you will return to Gillingham for a week or so in order for us to become better acquainted.”

  “That would be lovely,” Gemma said. “Though you shouldn’t wait too long, Reid.” She patted her belly. “Our baby will arrive in late June.”

  “I’ll make it soon, Gemma.” He looked to Charlotte. “And bring young Viscount Warren and the girls when you come.”

  They spoke a few more minutes and then the two couples departed to return to their own estates, making them the last of the mourners to leave. Reid found himself tired and still hungry since he hadn’t bothered eating anything from the trays that had circulated through the crowd.

  Dalinda came to him and immediately said, “They are good boys, Reid. Merely high-spirited.”

  “They were both rude and incredibly obnoxious,” he declared. “There’s no excuse for such ill behavior. Father would be appalled.”

  “Well, he wasn’t around to guide them the last two years,” she said, anger sparking in her eyes.

  Pity filled him, knowing she’d lost her husband, one she seemed to have truly loved.

  “I know you’ve done the best you could, Dalinda, especially with Father being so ill. I’m sorry it took me as long as it did to end my service to the crown and return home. I’m here now and ready to help you in rearing the boys. They need a mother’s love but a firm, male hand will also be important.”

  “I won’t have you beat them, Reid,” she declared. “They are just boys.”

  “They are—but they’re closer to being men than you’d care to admit. Are they at Eton together? Or somewhere else? Tell me a little of their schooling and background. I want to get to know them better, not only as their guardian but as family.”

  She hesitated.

  “Dalinda, is something wrong?”

  She began wringing her hands. “They were at school. In fact, they’ve been to three schools. No, four.”

  Concern filled him. “Why so many? Did they have a difficult time adjusting to being away from home? Some boys do, you know.”

  “No, they . . . well, they . . .”

  “Spit it out, Woman!”

  “They’ve been asked to leave every school they’ve attended,” Dalinda wailed. “You’ve got to help them, Reid. I don’t know what to do with them. They’re unruly. I cannot control them any longer. It’s hopeless. You’re going to have to handle them now because I don’t know how.”

  It was not the homecoming Reid had hoped for.

  Chapter Two

  Ashlyn readied herself for the day. She pulled her hair into its usual chignon, an easy style for her to manage on her own. When she’d left Dunbury, she hadn’t taken Dilly with her, not wanting any reminders of her time there. Though Mark Clarke, the new Earl of Dunwood, offered Ashlyn the dower’s house, she’d refused. He’d settled a nice sum upon her for giving up the residence. That, along with what her father had secretly provided, proved enough for Ashlyn to start her own school. Dunwood Academy now operated from a rented property in Kent, with four instructors and between ten and twelve students in attendance at any given time.

  She’d been drawn to establishing a school due to her love for her son and wanting to find a way to honor Gregory. Knowing she could never give her heart again as she had to her boy, she’d decided never to wed. Instead, she made herself useful in the lives of other boys, troubled or lonely ones who needed special attention. That’s why she enrolled only a select few so that each pupil would have ample care, both academically and emotionally. While most of her students’ parents paid their enrollment and boarding fees, one pupil was the recipient of the Gregory Clarke scholarship. Ashlyn liked to think Gregory would be proud of what she and her staff accomplished each day with the pupils in their charge.

  She arrived in the large dining room and saw most of her tutors going through the buffet Mrs. Clayton had set up. Ashlyn employed no butler or footmen and so the housekeeper was responsible for placing Mrs. George’s dishes out for each meal. Ashlyn thought it more collegial for her tutors and pupils to serve themselves. She met with her staff each morning during this first meal so they could discuss their students and the various upcoming lessons. After half an hour, the instructors left to prepare for the day and she dined with the boys.

  Taking her place at the head of the table, Mrs. Clayton brought a cup of tea.

  “Good morning, Lady Dunwood,” the housekeeper said, her face ever cheery as she set the cup down. “Two sugars and cream, just as you prefer.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Clayton. Is Mrs. George preparing the baked chicken later today?”

  “She is, my lady.”

  “Good. I so enjoyed the spices she used last time.”

  The four men had finished filling their plates and taken a spot. Mr. Selleck began, noting which literature would be studied this week and that the language focus would be on Latin and French. Mr. Peterson spoke next. The bald, rotund man was the opposite of the tall and thin Selleck and taught arithmetic, logic, and economics.

  Short and stout Mr. Butler followed, noting his emphasis would be on famous philosophers during his ancient history lessons this week. It would go hand-in-hand with the lectures he intended to give on religion.

  Finally, the drawing master, Mr. Phillips, spoke his piece. The tall, elegant instructor also taught the boys how to play various musical instruments and helped Ashlyn with dancing lessons, as well. The pair also worked with each student individually on social etiquette and conversation. She believed being able to speak comfortably on a variety of subjects would help her boys attain success in their future schooling and later in life.

  “It sounds as if everyone has a busy week planned,” she noted. “I did want to mention that we are still at ten students since the Easton boys left. If you know of any worthwhile pupils that could assume their places, please let me know. If that’s all, I will see you later in the day.”

  Ashlyn had a habit of dropping in on classes. She wanted to keep not only the boys but their tutors on their toes. She also enjoyed taking part in the lessons and seeing the boys’ progress firsthand.

  The men left and Betty and Louise, the two maids, quickly cleared their dishes away as Mrs. Clayton and Mrs. George brought in chafing dishes for the next round. One of the things which had surprised Ashlyn most was how much growing boys ate. Her pupils ranged from seven to thirteen and though they were different ages and sizes, every one of them possessed a voracious appetite.

  Edward, the scholarship student, indicated for her to go first through the line and she thanked him. She was pleased he was becoming more comfortable at the academy. The son of a local farmer, the side of his face was marred by a large purple birthmark. Edward’s father had shared with Ashlyn how his son had been teased unmercifully his entire life and stared at by strangers, both young and old. Fortunately, she had created an atmosphere of acceptance at Dunwood Academy and believed her boys had accepted Edward—and that Edward was slowly coming around from his shyness. He was brilliant at both mathematics and music and she’d witnessed him tutor several boys in complicated equations, drilling down and explaining to them in simple, everyday language. She had high hopes of him winning a spot at Eton or another strong public school and going from there to university. Her secret wish was that he might one day return to Dunwood Academy as an instructor.

  As they all gathered around the table, she made sure the maids had placed a penny beside the silverware for each boy. Seeing they all had one, she looked to the far end of the table.

  “Peter, why don’t you start us off and give the penny for your thoughts?”

  Ashlyn had begun the practice at breakfast each morning, having each boy share whatever he wished without judgment. Once each boy had spent his penny and contributed to the discussion, the conversation was opened for anyone to speak. This way, everyone ha
d a say and no one was left out. It also kept certain boys from dominating the conversation. They would think carefully before spending their penny, not wanting to be shut out from speaking.

  The shy student grinned and tossed his penny into the jar in the center of the table. Cheers broke out since Peter sat the furthest away from the jar. Though no penalty occurred if a boy’s toss missed, an extra biscuit at teatime was awarded to those whose penny made it inside the jar. Ashlyn had the students rotate on a daily basis so no one had an unfair advantage by always claiming the closest seats to the jar.

  “I spent time with Mr. Jarrett yesterday in the stables caring for Maymorn. I got to feel her belly and the kicks from the foal inside her.”

  She was pleased Peter had put two complete sentences together. When he’d arrived a month ago, he was so shy that he couldn’t string two words together.

  From there, the boys spoke up on their own. William told of a passage he’d translated and how much easier Latin seemed to him now that he was at Dunwood Academy. She was pleased he shared the tidbit without his usual arrogance and bragging. Samuel, who was very intelligent but liked to be left to himself, spoke about his fencing lesson yesterday. The boys listened attentively to one another as they ate and once each coin had been spent, they broke into smaller conversations. She looked at her pupils with pride, knowing each boy was progressing in different ways.

  The clock chimed and they looked to her expectantly.

  “I hope that you enjoy a marvelous day and have good things to share with one another tomorrow morning—if not before. You’re dismissed.”

  Each boy pushed back his chair and returned it to its place before picking up the used dishes and silverware and returning them to a cart Mrs. George had wheeled out. Ashlyn believed it important that her boys be courteous to all. Since she kept a minimum of servants, the boys contributed in small ways to the household. Collecting their dishes was one of them.

  As they filed out, telling her goodbye, Mrs. Clayton approached her.

  “You have a visitor, Lady Dunwood.”

  “I wasn’t expecting anyone,” she said, frowning. “I have bookkeeping to attend to.”

  “It’s the Duke of Gilford, my lady. He said it’s most urgent. I took him to your study and he awaits you there.”

  Ashlyn felt color flood her face. “Very well. Thank you, Mrs. Clayton.”

  She left the room and hesitated a moment. She longed to check her appearance in a mirror but refused to go upstairs to do so. Meeting the new duke at his father’s funeral a few days earlier had left quite an impression on her. Immediately, she’d been attracted to his height. His good looks. The thick, dark brown hair and eyes the color of melted chocolate.

  And that bloody uniform.

  It’s what had led her to dance with Daniel. He’d looked so handsome in his regimental colors. Look where that had gotten her. A forced marriage of one night. Years of loneliness living among strangers. Her dead boy.

  No, Ashlyn would have to be on guard around the Duke of Gilford. She would see what he wanted and get rid of him quickly. She didn’t need any disruptions in her life. It ran on an even keel. No ups. No downs. Just the way she preferred things.

  She arrived at her study. The door was already open. Gilford, still wearing his officer’s uniform, stood looking out a window, his hands clasped behind his back. Ashlyn swallowed and entered the room.

  “How may I help you, Your Grace?”

  *

  Reid waited for Lady Dunwood in the small, neat study. He was eager to speak to her again. She’d made quite an impression on him during their brief conversation after his father’s funeral. He’d learned from Bellows that the dowager countess was a war widow who’d opened Dunwood Academy in a rented property three miles to the east of Gillingham. Though the establishment was less than three years old, it had a reputation for helping troubled boys work through their problems and gain admission to more traditional schools.

  He only hoped she had room for his wayward half-brothers.

  As he’d met with various staff members at Gillingham, he’d heard numerous stories of the boys’ behavior the last few years. Harry and Arthur had placed toads in the beds of all the footmen. They had hidden the key used to wind the household’s clocks, causing every one to come to a standstill. They had switched Cook’s sugar for salt, resulting in a disastrous dinner party. They had even told two of the maids about the ghost which walked the halls, causing both to quit out of fright. Mrs. Paul had forced the servants to return and made Harry and Arthur confess how they’d made the ghost up. It seemed the more his father’s health declined, the more Dalinda had indulged the boys and let them run wild. In a way, he couldn’t blame her. From all reports, she’d been a devoted wife, nursing her husband in his illness, even though that meant neglecting her boys. Without a man’s steady hand, the pair did as they chose—and most of their choices proved to be unwise.

  “How may I help you, Your Grace?” a voice asked.

  Reid turned from the window and saw Lady Dunwood, looking lovely in a gown of sky blue. Her golden hair was swept from her face, highlighting her high cheekbones and delicate nose. As he moved to greet her, once again those deep, amethyst eyes drew him in.

  She curtseyed to him and he took her hand. He hadn’t done so before and a jolt hit him. She must have experienced the same for her eyes widened. She recovered quickly, though, her features returning to her usual calm, placid look as he released her hand.

  “Thank you for seeing me, Lady Dunwood. I have a pressing matter to discuss with you.”

  She indicated a chair and took one herself. Reid seated himself and then said, “I’m told you are the solution to my very difficult problem.”

  Color rose in her cheeks, turning her ivory skin a soft rose. “And what problem would that be, Your Grace?”

  “My much younger half-brothers.”

  Understanding lit her eyes. “I see. You wish for them to attend Dunwood Academy.”

  “It’s a distinct possibility. I’d like to meet your instructors, of course. Discuss the curriculum.” He sighed. “And warn you of the immense challenge you would be taking on if you accept them.”

  “How are they challenging?”

  “It seems my stepmother devoted the majority of her time to my father during his last two years. His illness was time-consuming. That left Harry, who is now ten, and Arthur, who is twelve, on their own—without much discipline.” He paused. “I’m afraid they’ve been asked to leave four different schools, due to their unruly behavior.”

  She smiled and Reid’s heart turned over. “That is exactly the type of boy we specialize in helping, Your Grace. Boys who need extra guidance and attention. Some are withdrawn. Some are overbearing and arrogant. Others have had difficulty fitting in at traditional schools.”

  “My half-brothers are rude and sullen. I haven’t a clue as to their academic progress.”

  “That is easily established. And I do have two openings that recently occurred so if you choose to send them to Dunwood Academy, they could start immediately.”

  “Tell me about your offerings.”

  She ran through the names of the various tutors and what subjects they taught and how she frequently visited classes to keep both instructors and pupils sharp.

  “While we offer all the traditional courses you would expect, we expect greater participation from our young students. They are actively involved in lessons, both in small groups and on an individual basis. It helps us cater to their needs and also come to know each boy better.”

  Reid reflected on his education. “It’s a bit different from my own schooling. I rarely said a word. Even in university. My tutors treated me as a sieve which they opened and poured in a fountain of their own knowledge for me to soak up—and then regurgitate during exams.”

  “The tutors do give some lectures but they also employ the Socratic Method. Would you like to visit a few classrooms now and see for yourself?”

  “I’d
like that very much.”

  They left her study and visited several rooms. He heard conversations in French and saw boys helping one another with Latin verb conjugation and translations then a mathematics lesson where the lone pupil actively asked questions. Mr. Peterson scribbled equations on a blackboard and then sat next to the lad as he worked out answers on his slate. The history tutor was concluding a more traditional lesson by lecturing to a pair but then upon completion, he had the two students take the roles of different philosophers. The boys conversed in character, adopting the philosophy of their assigned man.

  As they left the room, Reid said, “That was very unique. And challenging for each boy.”

  “Yes. They had to not only know the basic tenets of each philosopher but have a deep understanding as to how he would stand on more modern issues,” the countess said.

  “I’m suitably impressed.”

  “Oh, there’s more for you to see,” she said airily as the clock chimed and boys filtered out, going different directions. “Come along.”

  They went to a large drawing room, where two boys were already present, along with an elegantly dressed man.

  “Mr. Phillips, this is His Grace, the Duke of Gilford.”

  The tutor bowed. “A pleasure, Your Grace. Are you touring the academy? You won’t find a better place if you have a boy who needs a stellar education.”

  “I’m looking for a suitable school for my half-brothers.”

  “We would be happy to have them here,” Phillips said. “If you’ll excuse me?”

  “Certainly,” Reid said.

  He watched as the tutor started one boy on a watercolor painting, demonstrating a certain type of brushstroke. He left the student to practice and then went to the other one, who’d been warming up with a violin.

  “Mr. Phillips also helps me teach dance and social etiquette,” Lady Dunwood said.

  “I can see how well-rounded instruction is.”

  She laughed. The rich, throaty sound struck something within Reid, making him want to say something witty in order to make her laugh so he could hear the sound again.