Regency Scandals: Touch Me, Tempt Me & Take Me Box Set

by Lucy Monroe

  Finally, he said, "The children are in the garden with Mr. and Mrs. Drake. If your grace will await her pleasure in the drawing room, I will ascertain their exact whereabouts and arrange for you to be taken to them."

  Calantha wanted to argue. She did not wish to see anyone but the child. However, six years living up to the title of duchess came to the forefront. She acquiesced, allowing the butler to lead her to the drawing room. She needn’t have worried. The room was empty. Lady Ashton must have taken her house guests on an excursion.

  Filled with restless energy, Calantha paced across the room to the large window at the other end. It was open and summer scents wafted in on a light breeze. She could smell freshly cut grass and the sweet scent of ripening fruit. Looking out the window, she saw that it overlooked an orchard.

  "Your grace?"

  Calantha turned around to face a young footman. "Yes?"

  "If you will come with me, I will take you to Mr. and Mrs. Drake."

  The footman led her outside to the entrance of a small, enclosed garden. A three-tiered fountain resided in the center of the garden and three small children played in the base with paper boats. A puppy pranced around their feet before scampering off to chase a butterfly. Mr. and Mrs. Drake sat on a nearby bench watching the children.

  As they drew near, Mrs. Drake’s voice carried to Calantha’s ears. "I’m concerned about him, Pierson. He’s such a solitary man and to have set his sights on the Angel. Well, it’s..." her voice trailed off.

  Calantha realized two things at once. The first was that she should make her presence known immediately. The second was that Mrs. Drake was discussing Jared and herself. The second fact overrode the first and Calantha found herself unable to speak.

  The footman had not yet been noticed.

  "Did he say he plans to marry the Angel?" Mr. Drake asked.

  "Well, no. In fact, he said he’s not interested in a marble statue for a wife, but I can’t help worrying."

  Just as his wife finished speaking, Mr. Drake became aware of the footman and Calantha standing beside him. "Yes?"

  "Her grace has come to call on Miss Hannah."

  Mrs. Drake’s gaze settled on Calantha and her startlingly blue eyes widened. "Oh, hello."

  Calantha gave an abbreviated curtsy, calling on well-learnt self-control to hide her pain at the knowledge that Jared saw her as no more than a marble statue. Just like Clairborne.

  She tried to pretend the realization didn’t hurt; telling herself that it didn’t matter, that she knew Jared’s interest in her had not been personal. It did not work and that awful pain that had been unleashed with yesterday’s tears came roaring back.

  She ruthlessly tamped it down and said, "I do not mean to intrude on a family outing."

  Mrs. Drake smiled. "Nonsense. The children wished to play in the garden and Pierson and I used the excuse to duck out of the trip to a nearby abbey. There is only so much society I can take in one day. I’m not sure how Irisa stands it."

  Calantha liked the other woman’s forthright manner and she found herself smiling. Just the corners of her lips tilted, but it was a smile nonetheless. "I shall endeavor to be as un-society-like as possible."

  Mrs. Drake chuckled. "Then you may of course stay."

  Mr. Drake stood and gallantly offered Calantha his seat on the bench, but she shook her head. "I would much rather walk around the garden and watch the children."

  "The footman said you are here to call on Hannah?" Mrs. Drake queried.

  "I would really just like to see her." Sudden timidity had her shying away from the prospect of meeting the child. Perhaps she had not broken as many bonds yesterday as she had hoped.

  Mrs. Drake nodded. "She’s the bigger girl in the center. The other little darlings are my son, David and daughter, Deanna. And that scamp of a dog trailing around them is David’s birthday present from Jared."

  "They’re beautiful children." And she meant it, but her gaze did not settle on the tiny girl or sturdy blonde boy for very long.

  All of her attention was riveted on the child in the middle. Hannah. She had long, dark hair, pulled into two braids that were attached at the ends with a single ribbon. Her white pinafore was mussed with several streaks of dirt and one of her dimpled knees looked like she’d fallen on it.

  She didn’t look a bit like Deveril and yet she didn’t look much like Mary either, except for the bow shaped mouth. Yet something about the child tugged at her heart and reminded Calantha of her dear friend.

  "She’s very sweet," Mrs. Drake said.

  "Is she? Then she takes after her mother."

  That seemed to startle the other woman. "You knew her?"

  "Yes."

  "Jared’s very good with her," Mrs. Drake ventured again.

  "He would be." He had all the elements of a good father, gentleness, protectiveness, concern. The puppy came trotting over and sniffed at Calantha’s skirts.

  Mr. Drake laughed. "The little beggar is always looking for something to eat. We have to keep him away from the kitchens or the cook would rebel."

  Calantha leaned down and scratched the dog’s ears. He twisted his head and licked her wrist.

  It tickled and startled a small laugh from her. "What a charming creature."

  Mrs. Drake smiled and the genuine warmth in her eyes stunned Calantha after the comments she had overheard upon entering the garden. "Yes, he’s a darling. It’s the only thing that saved Jared’s hide when he gave a dog to my son for his birthday after I had refused to do so."

  Calantha could imagine Jared doing such a thing quite easily. In his arrogance, he assumed he knew what was best for everyone around him.

  She turned her gaze back to the children. "David is quite lucky to have such understanding parents."

  Mrs. Drake said, "Thank you. He’s a wonderful little boy, but then I am unashamedly biased."

  Mr. Drake smiled at his wife with obvious fondness and said, "Yes, he and his sister have succeeded in doing what nothing else could have. They’ve drawn their mother’s attention away from her business. There are days when her assistant despairs of getting her out of the nursery."

  Looking at the precious little people playing in the fountain, Calantha could well imagine. If she had had a child, even her conservatory would have been neglected on occasion.

  "Does Jared realize you’ve come to visit Hannah?" Mr. Drake asked the question and succeeded in drawing Calantha’s attention away from the children.

  "No."

  "Why have you come to see her?" Mrs. Drake asked, her voice vibrating with concern for her brother rather than curiosity.

  Calantha could not tell them of her husband’s behavior. It shamed her. "You will have to ask Jared."

  "But I’m asking you."

  Calantha turned her attention back to Hannah for one last look before turning to leave. "Because I had to see her."

  It was as simple and as complicated as that.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Later that afternoon, Calantha sat at the small round table in her parlor, papers spread around her.

  She’d begun a compilation of the fossilization data concerning the rose several months previously and was in the final stages of her research outline for a book she intended to write on the subject. She’d pulled her work out after returning from Ashton Manor, needing a return to normalcy after the emotional excesses she’d experienced since meeting Jared.

  Unfortunately, her mind kept wandering back to the sight of Hannah playing in the fountain, her dark hair glistening in the sunlight. Mary’s baby. Deveril’s baby. An innocent child. Jared’s reason for seeking her out. Each disjointed thought made the prospect of losing herself in her studies more and more impossible.

  She could not simply ignore Hannah’s existence. Something must be done, but what? She had no legal claim to Hannah. Deveril had not left her well off and what money he had left her was under his brother’s control.

  She was under no illusions that the current duke and duchess
, or anyone else in the family for that matter, would want Clairborne’s illegitimate offspring recognized.

  Jared certainly had more to offer the child. He wasn’t afraid to claim Hannah as his responsibility.

  Calantha hadn’t even been able to bring herself to talk to the little girl. She’d fled Ashton Manor like a spineless jellyfish. What had Jared thought when his sister told him of her visit? Would her reaction to Hannah further underscore his notion of her as a marble statue? If only she were! She had tried so hard to cut off all emotions, but they’d come rushing back in a tide of pain and suffering at the news of Mary’s death.

  And that small child was all that remained on this earth of Mary. Even if she had never seen her and felt the spark of recognition, Calantha would have loved the child simply because she was Mary's. Odd how easily she dismissed Deveril's legacy in Hannah, but even knowing what she did, Calantha could not help seeing Hannah as more Jared's child. No doubt Mary had fervently wished that had been the case.

  "Your grace, Lord Ravenswood and Miss Hannah would like to know if you are receiving visitors."

  The sound of Thomas’s superior accents brought her out of her reverie with a snap.

  "Please show them in, Thomas, and have Cook prepare a tea tray. Tell her to put some of the candied rose petals we made the other day on it for the child."

  "Very good, your grace." Thomas left.

  She stood and piled her papers into three neat stacks, one for research, one for her notes and the other her outline. She added a fourth pile, her written instructions for her servants. She had developed the habit of writing her instructions to the housekeeper when married to Deveril because there was less chance she could be blamed for a mistake if she had written record of her requests. Later, it had seemed the simpler way to remember to give instructions to Thomas when her mind often became sidetracked with her studies.

  "Is that her? She don’t have wings, Jared. How come she’s an angel?" a small voice asked hesitantly.

  Calantha’s entire body tensed at the sound. She forced herself to turn around, knowing the time had come to meet her dead husband’s daughter, but more importantly, Mary's child.

  "She’s called the Angel, but her name is Calantha. She doesn’t have wings because she’s really just a lady." Jared sounded satisfied by that fact.

  Calantha could not imagine why.

  "But I thought she was an angel. That’s what Deanna’s mama said. I wanted to meet the angel," the child’s voice, so quiet at first, had risen in distress and Calantha found herself moving forward without conscious thought.

  "I am not a real angel, I’m afraid. I’m just a lady, like Jared said." She stopped in front of the man and child, giving a full curtsy. "It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hannah."

  The little girl returned her curtsy, her dimpled legs bending in awkward imitation and her dark eyes fixed on Calantha with grave consideration. "You’re pretty like an angel."

  "Thank you. So are you."

  Hannah thought that over for several seconds before saying, "I don’t think angels have dark hair, but maybe they do."

  Calantha nodded, maintaining her usual serious demeanor. "I’m quite sure of it."

  Suddenly, Hannah's lower lip began to tremble and she turned to hide her face against Jared's leg. Her small shoulders began to shake.

  Calantha's heart squeezed in her chest. She had no experience with children. Had she done something to hurt or frighten the little girl? She turned horrified eyes to Jared, but he was not looking at her. His concerned countenance was focused entirely on the child.

  He lifted her until her tiny face was at the same level as his own. "What's the matter, sweet?"

  "I wanted her to talk to Mama, but she’s just a lady," she said on a quiet sob.

  Calantha felt like crying herself.

  "I’m sorry I’m not a real angel," she said, feeling as if she had let the child down, "I wish I could talk to her too. I miss her."

  Hannah turned her head to look at Calantha. "You knew Mama?"

  "She was my dearest friend. You remind me of her."

  "I do?" Hannah looked doubtful.

  "Yes. The shape of your mouth is the same. I bet you really look like her when you smile."

  "Mama was pretty when she smiled."

  "Yes. She was."

  Hannah's eyes filled with tears again. "I miss her."

  Calantha touched the child without conscious thought, rubbing her back gently. "I'm sure you do, darling. I’m sorry. Truly. I’d like to be your friend like I was hers, if you’ll let me. Maybe that will help us both miss her less."

  Hannah reached out and touched Calantha’s cheek. "’Kay."

  The caress of small fingers brought tears to her eyes and she blinked them away.

  Hannah turned back to face Jared. "She's nice," she said before shyly burying her face in his neck.

  "Will you stay for tea?" Calantha asked Jared.

  He looked at her for several seconds, his expression indecipherable. Finally, he said, "We’d like that very much, wouldn’t we, Hannah?"

  The little girl nodded against Jared's neck. "I like tea with lots of sugar," she whispered without looking at Calantha.

  "Then I shall make sure you have as much as you like."

  With his usual impeccable timing, Thomas arrived at that moment with the tea tray. Jared seated Hannah on the sofa next to him, while Calantha took her usual seat. It took some time, but Hannah slowly warmed up to Calantha enough to smile. She liked the rose candy, which pleased Calantha, who discovered she very much wanted the little girl to like her.

  "How come we don’t got rose candy, Jared?"

  "We’ll have to get Calantha’s recipe, imp." He turned to Calantha. "I’ve got one for rose honey we use to cure our hams. We could trade."

  The teasing light in his eyes made her breathless and she waited a moment to answer. He raised his brow in question and she said, "That sounds heavenly."

  "Then it should be more than fitting for an angel."

  Calantha dropped her gaze and busied herself with the tea tray. She wasn’t an angel and she wasn’t a marble statue, but she didn’t expect Jared to understand that.

  After that, Calantha endeavored to spend several hours a day in Hannah’s company. She saw so much of her friend in the small child. Mary's intelligence and sweet spirit lived in her daughter. So did her mischievous sense of humor, though Calantha only saw glimpses of it in the girl still grieving her mother's loss. There was nothing of Deveril's cruel nature in Hannah, but she did exhibit his arrogance on occasion.

  Not that Calantha was entirely convinced she hadn't learned that trait from the man raising her.

  Although the frequent visits with Hannah meant spending time with Jared, Calantha avoided him as much as possible. She could not forget that he saw her as no more than a marble statue.

  However, just as being with Hannah brought Mary to mind, so too did the little girl keep Jared at the forefront of Calantha's thoughts. He was the center of her world and she talked about him constantly. In addition, his influence could be seen strongly in her character. Her stubbornness included, or so Lady Ashton had remarked.

  Calantha was inclined to believe Jared's sister, particularly at the present moment when Hannah had refused all invitations to join the other children on a promised excursion with the Drakes.

  "I want to stay and draw," she insisted obdurately.

  Calantha had given her a set of pencils and a sketchbook upon arrival that morning. She hadn't been sure such a small child would appreciate that sort of gift, but Hannah's squeal of delight had put paid to her fear.

  Apparently drawing was something she'd done with her mother. Calantha had remembered Mary's love of sketching and was delighted her daughter shared it from such a young age.

  "But you must come with us," Mrs. Drake said. "The other grown-ups have all gone on a ride and Jared is with your Uncle Lucas."

  Hannah set her mouth in a mutinous line, but it was the sa
d vulnerability in her dark eyes that tugged at Calantha's heart.

  "I will stay with her. I love to draw as well."

  "Are you certain you do not mind? Irisa and her guests should be back from their ride in less than an hour."

  "I will enjoy the time with Hannah, unless you think Jared would mind me watching her?"

  "Why should he?" Mrs. Drake asked and then took her leave with warm thanks.

  "Can I sit in your lap while we draw?" Hannah asked. "Mama used to let me."

  Too choked with emotion at that reminder, Calantha merely nodded and settled Hannah on her knees. It felt indescribably good to have the little one cuddled up to her as she drew and Calantha couldn't help fantasizing Hannah was hers.

  But the fantasy was bittersweet because each day brought her closer to the time when Jared would leave for his own estates and take Hannah with him.

  Knowing Jared would return in time for lunch, Calantha made herself leave when Lady Ashton arrived and offered to take charge of Hannah.

  ***

  Jared swore when he realized that Calantha had managed to call on Hannah while staying clear of him again.

  The woman seated next to him for lunch, who had just mentioned that the duchess had been to call, blanched. "Really, my lord," she said in disapproving accents.

  He frowned, but apologized. "Sorry."

  She nodded, but turned her attention to the gentleman on her other side. Jared shrugged. He had more important things to worry about than offending one of his sister’s guests.

  He’d made the mistake of telling Calantha that Ashton planned to show him an experimental crop planted by one of his tenants on the far side of the estate that morning. She had taken advantage of the opportunity to visit Hannah once again when she knew he would be absent.

  Damn it. She’d seen Hannah five times in the last five days and him only twice. Why was she bent on avoiding him? Was she still afraid of him? He would never forget the look of terror that had turned her face the color of parchment when he’d gotten mad at her in the meadow.

  Damn. He still didn’t understand everything that had happened or why Calantha had withdrawn her friendship from Mary. He wasn’t likely to either when he never got a chance to talk to her. She avoided him like some plague-ridden rat. He wasn’t going to bloody well put up with it.