Читать книгу The Hidden Heart - Candace Camp, Candace Camp - Страница 9

Lady Leona Vesey crossed her arms and looked over at her husband as if he were a rat that had just run into the room. They were sitting in the single private dining chamber in the Grey Horse Inn in the early afternoon, waiting for their luncheon to be brought. Leona had had more than enough of the uncertain service and unsophisticated amenities of a village inn. As if those things were not irritation enough, Lord Vesey had just told her that they were going back to the General’s manor house.

“Have you gone mad?” she asked in a scathing voice, her tone implying that she had already answered her own question. “Why in the world would we want to go back to the General’s house—I’m sorry, I should say, to that misbegotten brat’s house? I, for one, have no liking for having the door slammed in my face.”

Her husband scowled back at her. He had spent the evening after the reading of the General’s will comforting himself with a large bottle of port, and, as a consequence, this afternoon his tongue felt coated with fur and his head seemed to have acquired an army of tiny gnomes hammering away.

Lord Vesey did not like his wife at the best of times. Right now he was entertaining cheerful visions of putting his hands around her throat and squeezing until her eyes bulged. “The door won’t be slammed in our face.”

“Your brain is obviously soaked in port. Don’t you remember? The General kicked us out.”

“Yes, you bollixed that one up, all right,” Lord Vesey agreed.

“I?” Leona exclaimed, her eyes widening. “I bollixed it up? You were the man’s great-nephew. It was you who made him despise you.”

“Ah, but you were supposed to be able to wrap an old man around your finger. Remember?” Vesey grinned evilly as he reminded his wife of her earlier, confident words when they had first heard that General Streathern was on his deathbed.

Personally, Lord Vesey had never admired his wife’s looks. He had married her because she was the only woman he had found in the Ton who was utterly indifferent to his little peccadilloes and quite happy to let him go his own way…as long as she was allowed to go hers. Other men fell all over themselves to get at those swelling breasts of Leona’s, but he found such lushness rather grotesque. He much preferred a lither, slimmer silhouette…such as the one on that Gabriela chit. Unconsciously he licked his lips as he thought of her. Leona was far too old, as well. It was the sweet bloom of youth that he preferred, and there was nothing quite like the joy of being the first to pick the fruit.

He relished Leona’s look of chagrin so much that he went on. “That is the second one, you know. First you bungled that affair with Devin last summer, and now you couldn’t even rouse the interest of an old man. I fear you are losing your touch, my dear. Or is it your age showing, do you think?”

Flame leaped in Leona’s eyes, and her face screwed up in an unattractive snarl. She wanted to leap on him, claws out, and damage him. But she knew that Vesey was such a coward, he would probably start wailing and shrieking, and then someone would come running. It would be thoroughly embarrassing to have everyone in a common inn see what a pitiful, mewling creature her husband was. So she contented herself with saying, “As if you would know what a real man wanted! You are nothing but a degenerate!”

“My, my, and to think you know such big words.” Vesey widened his eyes in mocking amazement. “Have you been bedding down with a man of letters?”

Leona sneered at him. Vesey was hardly a man. He had come to her bed a few times when they were first married, making a feeble attempt to get her with an heir—as if either one of them cared about that! She had soon set him straight in that regard. She had no intention of growing fat with anyone’s child, and she took pains to prevent that occurring. His lovemaking she regarded as pathetic, nothing like the passion that Devin had been able to give her. Her eyes glowed a little even now as she thought about his skillful caresses. No other man had been able to make her shudder and moan as Dev had, and she had missed him sorely during the past few months. No matter how many men, from lord to common laborer, she had tried to replace him with, none had proved to have his stamina or skill…or inventive mind.

What rankled the most was the fact that Vesey was right. She had indeed bungled the whole thing with Devin. She had overestimated her power over him. She had been the one to suggest that he marry the American heiress. But how was she to have known that the whey-faced, social disaster of a woman whom she had envisioned would turn out to be a cunning beauty? Instead of Devin’s taking the woman’s money and spending it on Leona and their pursuit of pleasure, he had settled down with the doxy at that stupid estate of his in Derbyshire, and Leona had been left both penniless and sexually frustrated. The whole thing had made her permanently cross.

“It doesn’t matter now, anyway,” she said in disgruntlement. “We got nothing in the General’s will, and the best thing we can do is go home. I can’t wait to get away from here. I cannot conceive how anyone can stand to live in the country.”

“Ah, but we still have a chance to gain something, my dear—quite a lot, in fact, if we only have the courage to seize the moment.”

“Seize what moment? What nonsense are you babbling?”

Vesey sighed exaggeratedly. “Are you really so short on wit? We may have been cheated out of our inheritance, but Gabriela is only fourteen. Her fortune will be handled by her guardian. If I was her guardian, we would have a tidy sum at our disposal. And I would be quite willing to take it upon myself to, um, look after the girl’s proper education.”

Leona rolled her eyes. “You are a pig, Vesey. Not only that, you’re stupid. She already has a guardian. And the Duke of Cleybourne is not a man you want to cross.”

Vesey shrugged. “You are thinking of the duke as he used to be. The truth is, for the past four years he has been a shell of a man. You know what a recluse he turned into when his wife died. You think someone like that will welcome an adolescent girl into his household? He doesn’t need her money—he’s as rich as Croesus. Besides, he’s far too noble to think of using her money for his own benefit. No, she will be nothing but a bother to him, and I am willing to bet that he will be happy to lay the burden off on someone else.”

“Not if that someone is you.”

“I’m not saying I would be Cleybourne’s first choice. He and I have never been friends—he is far too dull. But if I am already in the house, if I am in possession of the girl, so to speak, and he sees it will be a battle in court to regain her, well, it will be a far easier matter to hand the guardianship over to me.”

“What makes you think you will be in possession of her? They won’t even let us in the door.”

“Really, Leona, who will stop us? The servants won’t have the nerve to deny me admittance. The old man is dead now, after all. They no longer have his authority behind them. They won’t dare say no to a lord, especially since they know that if the girl does not reach her majority, I would inherit the place as her only relative. Believe me, they will not risk offending me.”

“The girl can tell them not to let you in.”

“A fourteen-year-old female? She wouldn’t have the courage or the wit.”

“Her governess is a dragon.”

“She may be, but she is merely a governess. She won’t stand up to a lord, either. When I show up at the door, they won’t know what to do except stand back and let me enter. Once we are in the house and have actual control of the girl, we will be in the catbird seat. I will sue to be named her guardian. As her only living relative, I have a good case for it, and, besides, I don’t think Cleybourne will contest it. What will he care? He doesn’t even know the chit.”

Leona looked at her husband doubtfully. The whole thing seemed far less sure than Vesey made it out to be. On the other hand, they were teetering on the edge of financial ruin. Indeed, they had been slipping down the side of it for quite some time. Their creditors were becoming increasingly insistent, and the last time Leona had been to the dressmaker, the blasted woman had flatly refused to make another garment for her until Leona paid her bill. Any possibility that would alleviate their situation would be worth a try.

“Oh, all right,” she agreed testily. “Let’s go over to the bloody house. At least if they slam the door on your nose, it will be somewhat amusing.”

There was a knock on the door, and without waiting for permission to enter, the innkeeper opened the door and backed into the room, carrying a large tray. “Good afternoon, my lord. My lady. Here’s your luncheon.”

His wife bustled in behind him, carrying another tray, and together they unloaded a vast array of food on the table. Leona cast an eye over the fare, plentiful but, she felt sure, as bland and plain as every other dish the inn had given them in the past few days. Never, she thought, had she appreciated her cook in London so much.

“Ah, Sims, tell them to have my carriage brought ’round after we eat. Lady Vesey and I are going to transfer to the General’s house.”

“Of course, my lord. Goin’ over there to see to things, are ye? I warrant they’ll be glad to see ye after that theft last night.”

“Theft?” Vesey looked blankly at the portly innkeeper. “What are you talking about?”

“Why, at the manor house, my lord. I thought ye knew. I supposed that was why ye was goin’ over there, to make sure the house is safe and all.”

“What happened?” Leona asked. “What did they steal?”

Sims shook his massive head. “That’s just it. They didn’t take much. The safe was broken into, and things inside it were all scattered about, but Pierson didn’t know exactly what the General had in there. Some jewelry’s gone, they think. All the drawers in the old man’s desk were opened, and papers all over—the General’s will, ye know, and all kinds of business papers. Couple of things broken. The place is a right mess, is what me nevvy told me. He were makin’ a delivery there, ye see, and the cook told him about it. He says the butler near had a fit, ye know, seein’ that. What with the General barely cold in his grave.”

He sighed lugubriously. “’Tis a sad, sad thing. No respect for the dead anymore. Ah, well, at least the girl was safe away. Reckon it would have scared her somethin’ awful.”

“Safe away?” Lord Vesey repeated in hollow tones.

“Why, yes.” The man looked at Vesey closely. “Didn’t ye know? The young lady and her governess left yesterday afternoon, after the funeral and all. Gone to her guardian’s, Will says, some duke in Yorkshire. I woulda thought ye’d know all about that.”

“Yes, of course. I was merely distracted by your tale. I do know that. She has gone to Castle Cleybourne.”

“Aye, that’s the place.” The innkeeper nodded. He stepped back from the table, giving Lord Vesey a cheerful grin. “Well, there ye are, my lord. Enjoy your meal.”

“What? Oh, yes, of course.”

“And I’ll tell them to bring up yer carriage.”

“Oh. Uh, yes, do that.”

The innkeeper followed his wife out of the room, closing the door behind him, and Vesey sank with a sigh into his chair. Leona regarded him with a malicious little grin.

“I would say that knocks your plans all cock-a-hoop,” she said with no discernible sympathy.

“Bloody hell! Whatever possessed that girl to go running off to Cleybourne like that?”

“Mmm. Perhaps she suspected what you were planning?”

“Don’t be absurd.” Vesey, who counted himself quite clever, sent his wife a nasty glance. “I didn’t even know it until a few minutes ago. How could she?”

Leona shrugged. “Well, whatever caused it, you certainly won’t be able to lay hold of her now. At least we shall be able to return to London.”

She walked over to the table and looked down at the array of food. Vesey remained in his chair, thoughtfully tugging at his upper lip.

“Perhaps not…” he said after a moment, rising and sauntering over to the table, looking pleased with himself.

“What are you talking about?” Leona asked crossly. “Not return to London? I trust you are not thinking of going to the manor house still.”

“No. Especially not with people popping in and out, taking things. I was thinking more of going to Yorkshire.”

Leona stared. “You can’t be serious. Yorkshire? Cleybourne? You think you can wrest the girl away from the duke?”

“Wrest? Of course not. Don’t be nonsensical. But it would do no harm to ask. I told you—what use does Cleybourne have for the girl? He’d probably love to get rid of her. If we were to go by there on our way to London…”

“A little out of the way, don’t you think?”

Vesey waved this objection aside. “I could offer to take the chit off his hands. Blood relative and all. He might be swayed by the argument.”

“I sincerely doubt it.” Leona had little faith in her husband’s ability to sway anyone. “Cleybourne’s always been an honorable sort—not a prig like Westhampton, of course. He did like to have a little fun back before he married Dev’s sister, but marriage ruined him.”

She paused, looking thoughtful. “But he has been living like a monk ever since Caroline died.”

Vesey looked over at her. “What are you saying?”

“Well…he might not be immune to a little feminine persuasion. What has it been since Caroline’s death—three, four years? That’s a long time. I’ve heard no rumor of his having an affair with anyone, even a light-o’-love, in that time.”

Lord Vesey smiled. “You think he might be ripe for the plucking?”

Leona’s golden eyes were alight with anticipation. “A lonely widower…winter evenings around a cozy fire…that’s almost too easy a target for one with my talents.”

The more she thought about it, the more Leona liked the idea. Cleybourne was a handsome man, tall and broad shouldered, and wealthy. Seducing him into her bed would be no hardship on her, and it would be pleasant to have a new, indulgent lover. She didn’t know whether he would turn the girl over to Vesey, but that was entirely secondary to Leona. Of first importance was the prospect of acquiring an infatuated lover eager—and able—to ply her with expensive gifts.

“I don’t know, Leona,” Vesey warned. “He is quite friendly with the Aincourts, and you know in what esteem they hold you.”

Leona’s eyes flashed. “I don’t care if he is as thick as thieves with the loathesome Lady Westhampton. She is Dev’s own sister, and her opinion of me never kept Devin out of my bed. Trust me, a few hours with Cleybourne and he’ll be panting after me. A few days and he will be willing to give me whatever I want.”

Lord Vesey smiled. “Well, then…eat up, and we’re off to Yorkshire.”

Jessica awoke the next morning in a much improved mood. A good night’s rest was often the best antidote to one’s fears and doubts. Looking out the nursery window at the rolling Yorkshire countryside, washed with the pale light of a wintry sun, she believed the reassuring things she had said last night to Gabriela. This morning, she was sure, the Duke of Cleybourne would follow the honorable course and accept his guardianship of the girl and welcome her into his house. He had simply been caught by surprise last night.

She breakfasted with Gabriela, talking about how they would explore the house today, and later in the morning, when a servant came to the nursery with a summons from the duke, she followed him downstairs with a light step.

The footman ushered her into the same study where she had spoken to Cleybourne the night before, then bowed out of the room, closing the door behind him. The Duke of Cleybourne was seated behind his massive desk, more formally attired in a jacket and snowy cravat than he had been last night. He rose at her entrance and with a gesture indicated a chair in front of his desk.

“Miss Maitland.”

“Your Grace.”

“Please, be seated.”

Looking at his face, some of Jessica’s good mood evaporated. He was by daylight as handsome as he had appeared last night in the dimmer candlelight, but his expression was, if anything, even grimmer. She wondered, briefly, if this man knew how to smile.

“I have given a great deal of thought to this situation,” Cleybourne began in a heavy tone. “And I have come to the conclusion that it would not be in Miss Carstairs’ best interests to be my ward.”

Jessica stiffened, and her hands curled around the arms of her chair, as if to keep herself from vaulting out of it. “I’m sorry. Perhaps I misunderstood you. Are you saying that you are sending us away? Are you going to turn Gabriela over to Vesey?”

Her mind was racing even as she spoke, thinking how she could flee with Gabriela before he could give the girl up to Vesey. Where could she go? How could she protect her?

Cleybourne flushed faintly, and his mouth tightened. “Good God, no, I don’t intend to turn her over to that roué! How can you even ask that?”

“How can I not?” Jessica retorted heatedly. “I know nothing of you except that you refuse to be her guardian.”

“It is not that, exactly. It is just…well, when her father wrote his will, my circumstances were different. My wife was still alive, and my—” He stopped abruptly and rose to his feet, pushing back his chair. “But mine is a bachelor’s household now, Miss Maitland,” he went on, pacing away from her. “Scarcely a good place for a young girl. She needs a woman’s guiding hand, someone who can plan her debut and introduce her to society, teach her all the things a girl on the edge of womanhood needs to know. I would be at a complete loss at any of those things.”

“She has me, sir,” Jessica said, rising to her feet as well. “I may be only a governess, but I did make my coming-out in London. I was brought up as Gabriela should be brought up. And when the time arrives for her to come out, surely you have some female relative, a sister or mother or aunt, who would be willing to guide her through the waters of London society.”

“Makeshift remedies, Miss Maitland,” he said in a clipped tone, facing her from across the room. “No doubt you are an excellent teacher. However, she needs more than that. She should have the close guidance and company of an older woman, one experienced in the ways of society. I cannot provide that, and neither can you.”

“She needs comfort and strength right now, and that is more important than what she will need four years from now. She needs a home, a place where she belongs, where she is wanted. She lost both her parents six years ago, and now has lost the man who was a grandfather to her. She has no family because I will not consider Lord Vesey her family.”

“Of course not. But I am not her family, either.”

“No, but you were her father’s friend. You are the man her father would have wanted to be her guardian. Because of that, she places her trust in you. And you are the man the General wanted to be her guardian. He placed his trust in you. Did you not read his letter? He feared that Vesey might try to—”

“I will not let Vesey have her. I already told you that. It isn’t as if I am turning the two of you out into the street.” Cleybourne scowled at her blackly. “Damn it! You are the most infuriating woman. I told you, I will find a suitable place for her. My sister-in-law, perhaps. I will write Rachel and see if she and her husband would raise her. Of course you will stay here until I find the proper place, and I assure you that if Vesey should pursue the matter, I will take care of him.”

Jessica started to argue again, but she stopped and pressed her lips tightly together, controlling her anger. She had to stay with Gabriela; that was the most important thing, especially if this man was going to shuffle the girl about. She had already pushed him as much as she dared. She must not offend him so much that he let her go. “Very well, Your Grace.”

The duke’s eyebrows rose in faint surprise at her capitulation. “Yes. Well, that’s settled, then.”

“Shall I bring Miss Gabriela to meet you now?”

“What?” An odd look, one almost of fear, crossed his face, and he shook his head quickly. “No. I—it would be best if we did not meet, I think.”

“What?” Jessica was too astounded not to stare at him. “You will not even meet her?”

“It would be better for her.”

“How is it better for her?” Jessica demanded, anger boiling up too fast and hard for her to be prudent. “To know that you will not even see her? That you cannot be bothered?”

“That is enough, Miss Maitland!” His dark eyes flashed. “I am her guardian, if you remember, and that is my decision. She should not become attached here. This will not be her home. It will be easier for her to leave this way.”

“Easier for you, you mean!” Jessica retorted hotly.

Richard’s eyes widened in astonishment, and Jessica realized then how far she had overstepped. But, in the next moment, to her surprise, the duke let out a short bark of laughter. “I cannot imagine how you managed to be a governess, Miss Maitland, given that razor of a tongue of yours.”

Jessica lifted her chin a little. “General Streathern approved of straight speech.”

“I would not think he brooked insubordination.”

Looking Cleybourne straight in the eye, Jessica said evenly, “The General was not a man to use his power unwisely.”

Cleybourne looked at her for a long moment. Finally he said, “Thank you. That is all.”

Jessica, resisting the impulse to give him a sarcastic curtsy, merely nodded and left the room.

Inside she was seething. The man was unfeeling! She stalked down the hall, scarcely noticing where she was going, and scowling so blackly that a maid, dusting a table, quickly stepped out of her way.

She knew that she could not return to Gabriela in this mood. She must come up with some way to present Cleybourne’s decision to the girl without hurting her, and right now all that would come spurting out of her would be the furious, unvarnished truth. She decided a walk would be the only way to burn off her ire, so she went down the back stairs and out a door into the pale winter sunshine.

Immediately she realized her mistake; it was far too cold to be outside without a wrap. But she could not go back upstairs for her coat without running into Gabriela. She decided one quick turn around the garden would have to do.

She had walked halfway down the center aisle of the garden when footsteps on the stone behind her made her pause and turn. A small woman, bundled up in a cloak, was walking toward her, and over one arm was draped another cloak. She smiled as she neared Jessica.

“Miss Maitland, I thought you might find it a wee bit cold out here, so I brought you a cloak.”

Jessica took the wrap from her gratefully. “Thank you, Miss…”

“Brown. Mercy Brown. I am the housekeeper here.” Her eyes twinkled merrily, matching her smile. “And I must confess it was curiosity more than kindness that sent me out here. I have been wanting to meet you ever since Baxter told me about your arrival with the wee one.”

Jessica smiled back at the woman. “It is a pleasure, Miss Brown, whatever the reason. But Miss Gabriela is scarcely a wee one.”

“Ah, well, she was but a baby the last time I saw her. She was a pretty thing then, and Baxter tells me she still is.”

“Yes. She is very pretty. And good-natured, as well.”

The housekeeper’s smile grew even broader. “I’m glad to hear that. It will be so good to have a young person about the place again. It will be good for the master, too.”

“The duke? Not much. He plans to ship her off somewhere as soon as he can,” Jessica told her sourly.

“No!” Miss Brown looked dismayed. “He never said that.”

“Close enough. He says it’s not the ‘proper place’ for a child, him being a bachelor. He is the most arrogant, irritating man—I cannot imagine why the General thought he would take care of Gaby. He was obviously deluded about the duke’s sense of honor and duty.”

“Oh, no, he is an honorable man!” the older woman protested. “And he would not shirk his duty.”

“Mmm,” Jessica replied on a note of disbelief. “So long as it did not put him out, I suppose.”

“You must not judge him so harshly,” the housekeeper told her earnestly. “The duke is a good man. He really is. You have to understand—he has had a sad history. Things have happened to him that have made him, well, a bit of a recluse, but there isn’t a wicked bone in his body.”

“What else would you call it when he rejects an orphaned girl whose last relative has just died, who has been entrusted to him by a man who was his friend? Her father and General Streathern trusted him to take care of Gabriela, but he cannot be bothered. So he plans to ship her off to whoever will take care of her for him.”

Jessica glanced at the housekeeper and saw a look of great sadness on her face. The woman shook her head, saying, “Ah, poor man. It must be because of Alana. No doubt he cannot bear to be around a child again.” She looked at Jessica. “Why don’t you come back to my sitting room and warm up with a cup of tea? I will tell you about His Grace and why, well, why he is as he is.”

Jessica agreed readily, curiosity as much as the cold impelling her inside. The two women turned and retraced their steps to the house, where the housekeeper hung up their cloaks and led Jessica along a back hall and through the kitchen into a cozy little sitting room beyond that was the housekeeper’s domain. A word to a maid as they passed brought her to the room a few moments later with a pot of tea and cups, and a dish of scones, on a tray.

The scones were delicious, and a few sips of the strong sweet tea warmed Jessica up almost immediately. She settled back into the comfortable chair to listen to Miss Brown.

“I have known His Grace since he was a little boy. So have Baxter and most of us older servants,” she began, her brown eyes alight with fondness. “He was always a wonderful boy. And as he grew into manhood, well, you could not ask for a kinder or better employer. Almost ten years ago he married Caroline Aincourt, the daughter of the Earl of Ravenscar. An excellent marriage—old family, good name—but far more than that, His Grace was madly in love.”

Miss Brown let out a little sigh, her eyes taking on a faraway look. “Oh, but she was a beauty. Every inch a duchess, she was. Tall and striking, with black hair and green eyes. Good-looking lot, the Aincourts, whatever else they might be. There’s a portrait of her in the Great Hall. They were very happy. And, oh, the times we had at the castle then! There were often guests—for weeks at a time, sometimes. Balls and dinners and all sorts of entertainment. His Grace was a sociable man.”

“The duke?” Jessica asked in disbelief.

The other woman nodded. “Oh, yes. I am sure you would not credit it, to see him now. But he enjoyed company. He wasn’t one of those who was irresponsible or wild, you understand. He always did his duty and took an interest in his affairs, but he liked a party as well as the next man. And the duchess! Well, she fairly glowed at a ball. She was always the center of attention. They had a daughter, Alana.”

“A daughter? He said nothing about her. He said that his wife had died, but…”

Miss Brown nodded, her eye darkening a little. “Oh, yes, he had a daughter.” She smiled to herself. “Ah, she was a corker, that one. Lively as could be, always into everything, but no one could get mad at her, because she had the sunniest disposition. All she had to do was smile at you and say she was sorry, and you would forgive her anything. After she was born, they spent even more time here, only going to London for the height of the season. The duke felt it was better to raise a child here in the country, you see. Miss Alana didn’t even sleep in the nursery. His Grace thought it was too far away: they could not hear if she cried out. She stayed right down the hall from her parents, and her nurse slept on a bed in her room.”

“What happened? I mean, what changed everything?”

“They were in a carriage accident. The duchess and the little one were killed.”

“Oh, how awful.”

The housekeeper nodded, her eyes filling with tears as she remembered. “His Grace was riding outside the carriage. It was winter, before Christmas, right about this time of year, in fact.” She sighed. “They were probably driving too fast. Anyway, the carriage overturned as they took a corner. It rolled down an embankment, and the duchess was thrown out. Her neck was broken, and she died instantly. But the carriage, with the wee one inside, rolled on down into the pond.”

Jessica drew in her breath sharply in horror. “Oh, no! How awful!”

“There was a thin layer of ice on the top of the pond, but of course the coach broke right through. His Grace went in after her. The coachman said it was a pitiful sight, how he dived again and again into the cold dark water. Finally, he brought her up and carried her onto land, but it was too late. The poor sweet child was dead.”

Sympathetic tears welled in Jessica’s eyes as she thought about the horrific scene—the frantic parent, the frozen pond, the dark, icy night. She could imagine the overturned carriage, the frightened horses, the beautiful woman dead on the ground, and the duke throwing himself into the icy water in a desperate search for his child, emerging at last with her still form.

“He carried that child in his arms all the way home, and when he walked through the door, holding her—I’ll never forget his face that night. I’ve never seen anything as bleak. We could hardly pry the child out of his arms and bundle him off to bed himself. He came down with a terrible fever—it was no wonder, him being in that icy water and then in freezing weather all the way home—and he nearly died himself. His valet, Noonan, and Baxter and I took care of him. For days we thought we were going to lose him, too, and then it was still more weeks before he was well. He was so gaunt you would hardly recognize him, and that’s a fact. He aged years in those weeks.”

“Poor man.” However much he had angered Jessica, her heart was wrung with pity for him. He had suffered terribly—the loss of a beloved spouse was sad enough, but to have had his adored daughter taken at the same time seemed almost too much to bear.

“Yes.” The housekeeper heaved a sigh and leaned forward to replenish their cups with tea. After a moment, she went on. “After that he changed. Not just the way he looked. The way he was. At first he just sat in his chair and stared out the window. Didn’t seem to care whether he lived or died. He would hardly see anyone—wouldn’t let the vicar anywhere near him, and he barely tolerated the doctor. The only one who had much luck with him was Lady Westhampton, his wife’s sister. He would see the duchess’s brother, as well, Lord Ravenscar. The only place he would go was to the graveyard. It was terrible…terrible…. We were all so worried about him. Finally, one day, he told us he was going back to London. We were happy, thinking he had decided to get on with his life.” She paused, and tears glinted in her lively brown eyes.

“But he had not?” Jessica prompted gently after a moment.

The housekeeper shook her head. “Later he told his valet that it was just that he could not bear to live in this house any longer. It’s his ancestral home—it has been the seat of the Dukes of Cleybourne since 1246. And he lived in it his whole life. But he hasn’t been home for almost four years.”

“But surely he has gotten out more, living in London. He has lived a fuller life, even if he could not face this house.”

“No. I only wish he had. Baxter writes to me every month with news about His Grace and the household. You see, only a skeleton staff and I stayed here. Most of the staff went with him, so we are always eager for news of the rest.” She smiled. “We are close, a kind of family, you see. So I write to Baxter and he to me, and we share the news with the others. The sad truth is that for all that time His Grace has been a recluse in London as much as he ever was here. He sees his relatives and friends every once in a while—if they come to visit him. He never calls on others, and he does not attend parties. Baxter says he never even visits his club. He has shut himself off from the world. And Lady Westhampton, the Duchess’s sister, is worried about him. She has told Baxter that lately he has seemed even more melancholy. Of course, this time of year is the worst for him.”

“But he came back here,” Jessica pointed out. “Surely that is a good sign.”

“We hoped so. I was very cheered. But he—well, he is as polite and nice as ever, but there is a a sadness to him that just hurts my heart to see. Sometimes I worry about why he came home now.”

“What do you mean?”

The other woman frowned. “I’m not entirely sure, miss. But it being this time of year and all…I can’t help but think, maybe he’s come home to die.”

“To die!” Jessica raised her eyebrows in surprise. “But he is still a young man. He can’t be forty yet.”

“No, miss. He’s thirty-five is all. But…”

“Surely you don’t mean—” Jessica looked shocked. “Do you actually think he might intend to…to harm himself?”

Her companion looked even more troubled. “I don’t know. I don’t want to think so. He’s a strong man, but sometimes I fear that he has given in to despair. I think perhaps he hoped that one day, being in London, away from here, he would begin to heal his sorrow. Maybe he has become so heartsore that he fears he never will. I think Lady Westhampton feared it. She cautioned Baxter to look after His Grace carefully. Not, of course, that he would ever have done any less than that, and her ladyship knows it. It was a sign of her worry about him.”

She sighed, then shook her head firmly. “No, I will not think that. But, you see, that is why I was so happy to hear this morning that you and the young miss had arrived. I thought, a child in the house is just what he needs. She will bring life to the place again, and laughter. But when you told me that he would not keep her, would not even see her…” Again she sighed. “Ah, me, it’s a sad, sad thing. I think he must feel that he cannot bear to see a child here. Miss Gabriela is older than his own little one would have been, but still, it would be a reminder to him of all that he has lost.”

“Then that is why he wants to find someone else to take her guardianship from him. I am sorry. I misjudged him.” Jessica frowned. “Poor man. I thought him simply grim and unsociable. I had no idea such loss lay at the base of his actions.”

She thought back to the duke’s sharply carved face—the jutting lines of cheekbone and jaw, almost gaunt in their severity, the dark, brooding eyes, the taut lines of his body—and she could see now the sorrow that lay behind those things.

“It is too bad that he has decided to turn Gaby away,” Jessica went on. “I think you are right. She might be just the thing he needs in his life.” She sighed. “Ah, well, I shall just have to explain it to Gaby as best I can.”

After Jessica left the housekeeper’s room, she walked into the Great Hall, the large area that ran back through the middle of the house from the front door, centered by the staircase. It was two stories high and had been the main room of the castle back in its early days. It was here that the housekeeper had said the late duchess’s portrait hung.

Obviously the first few pictures were not of her, for they were of men in the attire of Tudor and Stuart times. She came upon a painting of a woman in a high white-powdered wig, and then, just beyond that, was a portrait of a young woman in modern dress. Jessica stopped, sure that this must be the duke’s Caroline. She was beautiful, even allowing for the flattering nature of most portraits. Tall and slender, she smiled invitingly out at the viewer. There was a dimple in one cheek, and her green eyes twinkled. She stood beside a chair, one slender hand resting upon its back, and at her feet sat a toy spaniel, its black-and-white coloring reflecting the coal-black of the woman’s hair. She was dressed in green velvet that emphasized her large eyes, and a magnificent emerald ring glowed on her finger.

It was easy to see why Cleybourne had been so in love with her. She looked like the sort of woman who had men falling at her feet, declaring love. Jessica gazed at her with a certain fascination. She had never possessed the sort of charm that it was clear this woman had had. A gawky adolescent, Jessica had grown awkwardly into womanhood, and her blunt tongue and forthright manner had put off many a would-be suitor. She had never had the gift that women like the duchess seemed to possess naturally—the ability to flirt and beguile, to beckon men with a look or a smile. Her aunt, who had introduced her into society when she was eighteen, had often despaired of her, declaring that she would never catch a husband if she persisted in talking to men about the war in Europe instead of smiling and simpering like the other girls. Aunt Lilith, she remembered, had been both ecstatic and amazed when Darius offered for her. Jessica gave a small, wry smile as she thought that she, too, had been rather surprised.

Shrugging off her memories, she turned away and started up the stairs. It was useless to think of the past. She would not know the sort of married happiness she had dreamed of as a girl, but thanks to the General’s generosity, she would be well able to live without having to scrimp and save, or depend on others. She had her independence, and she had Gabriela, and she would have a very pleasant life.

Jessica turned over in her bed, sighing. It was late, and Gabriela had gone to sleep at least an hour earlier. Sleep, however, had eluded Jessica.

It was not for lack of physical weariness. Baxter had offered to show them around the house, and she and Gabriela had spent the majority of the day tramping all over with him. Surprisingly tireless for a man his age, the butler had shown them the entire castle, even poking into the unused wings and the cavernous cellars that had once held the castle’s dungeons and storerooms. Gabriela had especially enjoyed the latter visit, shivering with obvious delight at Baxter’s ghoulish stories of the dungeons. Afterward, he had turned them over to the head gardener, who had given them an equally detailed tour of the gardens and outlying areas. By the end of the day, even Gabriela was thoroughly worn-out. Jessica had been grateful for the exercise for both of them, after almost two days spent in a carriage, and she had thought she would sleep easily.

Instead, as soon as her head touched her pillow, she had started to think of all the problems and pitfalls that lay before them. She had tossed and turned for almost an hour.

Finally, she admitted to herself that she was not going to fall asleep any time soon. Jessica got out of bed and pulled her dressing gown on over her nightgown. She decided that she would read for a while in the hopes that that would encourage her to sleep. She thought that she remembered the way to the library, which Baxter had showed them earlier.

She checked on her charge, who was sleeping soundly, then slipped out of the nursery and down the stairs to the library. As she approached it, she saw that light spilled out from the duke’s study, which lay a few doors before the library. She hesitated for a moment, not wanting to see Cleybourne again. She thought about going back upstairs without a book, but instead, she tiptoed, hopeful that he would not even notice her passing.

He would not have, she realized as she glanced inside the room, for he was not looking out the door, but what she saw pulled her to a stop. She stared into the study.

Cleybourne was seated at his desk, leaning his head on his hands, elbows propped on the desk. To one side sat a decanter of liquor and a half-empty glass. In front of him lay an open case of dueling pistols. As Jessica watched, he reached into the case and took out one of the pistols. A chill ran through her. The housekeeper had been right. The duke was going to kill himself!