Chapter Three
“Where have youbeen, Lord William?” Jenny asked, as her young charge entered the schoolroom. “Your father will be waiting. I hope you weren’t dirtying your clothes down at the stables.”
“No, Miss Harrismith. I’m not dirty am I?”
He waited for her answer, his eyes wide and guileless. An expression she recognized. The,I am innocent and unjustly accused,look, with straw still clinging to his dark head.
“I’m not sure where this came from then,” Jenny exclaimed, plucking it from his hair before the schoolroom mirror. “There.” She gave his hair a quick brush. “We don’t want to be late, do we?”
“No, Miss Harrismith,” he said growing still.
She put down the brush and smoothed his collar. “I’m sure your father is looking forward to a nice long chat.”
William merely nodded.
“Will Father like my dress?” Barbara picked up the skirts of the frilly pink spotted muslin frock Nanny had chosen and turned around exposing chubby knees.
“Yes, poppet, I am sure he will.” Jenny bit her lip on a smile. “Shall we go downstairs?”
A liveried footman stood outside the library.
A hand on William’s shoulder, she sensed how tense he was. She glanced at the grandfather clock in the corridor. It was precisely two o’clock. She nodded to the footman, and he tapped on the door with his gloved fist.
“Come.”
The footman opened it and Jenny ushered the children into the library, a massive space with a high coffered ceiling. The room was warm and smelled of leather and old tomes. She would love to spend time there exploring the books in the bays around the walls.
The duke stood and came around the desk. “Good morning, Miss Harrismith. If you please.” He gestured to the seating arranged beside the wide fireplace which was comfortably ablaze. Above the carved marble mantlepiece hung a painting of a beautiful blonde woman in a white gown, smiling serenely. The duke’s deceased wife, Catherine. Barbara was the image of her.
The children sat beside Jenny on the leather chesterfield settee, their small bodies leaning against her, while the duke took the armchair opposite.
His Grace’s portrait had not exaggerated. He was imposing: broad shouldered, with a narrow intelligent face, and faint lines at the corners of his blue eyes. He was thirty-one, but looked slightly older. It was not a physical thing, she decided, but more an attitude. As if the responsibilities of being a duke, and his work, whatever that entailed, lay heavily on his shoulders, and something else too. His tragic past perhaps.
In fact, he was so overwhelming, Jenny felt suddenly shy. She forced her mind to the matter at hand. What she needed to say.
When his gaze rested on his daughter, the shadows deepened in his eyes. “While we have our tea, you can tell me about yourselves, how you spend your days.” He turned to look at Jenny. “And afterward, Miss Harrismith can add anything else she deems to be relevant.”
A painful silence followed when neither child spoke. Jenny turned to the silent boy beside her. “Tell your father about your fishing, Lord William.”
William cleared his throat. “I’m learning to fly fish, Father,” he said in a careful voice.
His father smiled approvingly. “Well done. A sport requiring some skill. You’ll get the hang of it when you’re older.”
“The gamekeeper has been instructing him,” Jenny said, unable to let the moment pass. “Lord William brought home a trout for Cook. It was made into a pie and served to the staff. They enjoyed it, didn’t they, Lord William?” Jenny settled her features into a smile. She feared she’d been frowning.
His Grace raised his dark eyebrows, no doubt at her audacity. “A trout, eh! We must throw in a line together. But I fear you will put me to shame.”
The boy ducked his head. “I would like that Father,” he said politely, curling his fingers into his palms. It upset Jenny to see him attempt to hide the intensity of his feelings, his need for his father’s approval.
Barbara had become bored with playing with a ruffle on her dress and began to wriggle. “Will you come and visit my dolls, Father?”
“I shall, my dear. Do you have many?”
“William counted them. He is very good at sums.” She leaned forward to look at her brother. “How many dolls have I, William?”
“Eleven,” William said promptly, looking pleased.
“That’s a full cricket team,” the duke said, laughter in his eyes. It made him look younger.
