The draft flattened the nursery candle and made the corridor sconces flicker. In the poor light, His Grace’s shoulders looked tense. A shorter man, dressed plainly in brown stood at his elbow, with George waiting a few paces away.
“I regret having to disturb you at this late hour, Miss Harrismith,” the duke said. “But I wanted to introduce you to our new guard, Mr. Irvine as he is to begin his duties first thing in the morning. Everyone, except you and Forrester believe he is here in connection with my stables.”
“How do you do, Mr. Irvine.” Jenny’s worries eased slightly at the sight of the bulky, grim-faced gentleman. He appeared most competent, without saying a word.
“Pleased to meet you, Miss Harrismith,” he said, a smile softening his rugged features.
“George will remain on duty this evening,” His Grace said. “Mr. Irvine will ride with William while I give Barbara a riding lesson on her pony. Would you bring my daughter down to the stables at eleven?”
“Certainly, Your Grace.”
Jenny was acutely aware she was naked beneath the robe. Her damp hair hung down to her waist. She flicked a curling lock back over her shoulder and resisted tightening her belt, her fingers curling nervously over the bow.
“I have caught you at a difficult time. I do apologize.” He stepped back. “Tomorrow then.” After a few words to George who would be relieved by Jeremy at midnight, both men departed.
Would the duke think her indolent to be in her nightclothes so early? Although it grew dark earlier as winter approached, the children had only just gone to sleep. She frowned and raised her chin. Well, her time was her own after all.
With a nod to George, Jenny retreated into the nursery and shut the door, smiling and light-hearted for the first time in days. She crept across the carpet to check on William. He slept soundly on his back, arms and legs flung out, as did Barbara, who lay with a small hand curled over the coverlet, Carrot beside her. Jenny tucked her in and went into her bedroom to douse the fire. The nights were growing colder, and although the schoolroom fire was lit during the daylight hours, she would never leave a fire burning in the nursery at night.
She removed her dressing gown, donned her nightgown, and shivering, climbed into bed wishing for the bedwarmer she had at home. Taking up the splendid novel by Miss Austen, she removed the bookmark and settled down to read by the argand lamp, but her thoughts kept returning to the duke. She wished she knew what he thought finding her in a state of undress, but with the candlelight behind him, his face was cast in shadow. She’d found no condemning note in his voice, however, as he informed her of the new arrangement then ushered Mr. Irvine away.
*
Andrew paused onthe stairs to advise Irvine of the direction he wished him to take when he rode with William. “My son will want to ride to the river. But I prefer he does not, for that was where the shot was fired. Take the bridle path to the west as far as the first fences. Do not allow him to cross the meadows to the river. He is to ride one of the smaller horses, the gray mare Lavender, is quite docile, although he may protest, he is keen to ride one of my hunters.”
“Very well, Your Grace.”
“Should I be unavailable, you can seek Forrester’s advice. I don’t intend the housekeeper, Mrs. Pollitt, or the staff to learn why you are here. For all intents and purposes, you are a new member of my stable staff. I prefer to keep it that way.”
Andrew said goodnight to Irvine and made his way to the drawing room.
He found a game of faro had just finished. Greta glanced at him sharply. “You are joining us, Your Grace? One might ask what has kept you.” She took up her wineglass and sipped her wine, her blue eyes suspicious.
“Forgive me. A matter with the staff,” Andrew said refusing to be drawn.
Naturally, that failed to satisfy her. He knew what she was thinking, but as he was unable to dissuade her of it, and indeed had no desire to, especially in front of his cousin and her brother, he kept silent. He suspected anything he said to her now would fall on deaf ears. It was an uncomfortable business which he would soon have to deal with.
“You are just in time for the next hand,” Raymond said.
Andrew eased his shoulders, discovering Irvine’s appearance made him enormously relieved. As if a weight had been transferred from himself to Strathairn’s man. He anticipated the sensation would be brief, for tomorrow, he would return to his constant state of vigilance. Tonight, he could relax in the knowledge that Miss Harrismith would remain alert. She had not unlocked the door without confirmation of who was on the other side of it, despite knowing George would be there.
“Right,” he said, “if you are game, gentleman, let us continue. Raymond, you are banker. I shall now endeavor to remove a goodly amount of yours and Ivo’s blunt.” He smiled at Greta, but she looked away. She had come here on his invitation. It behooved of him as a gentleman to offer some explanation which wouldn’t matter should it reach Ivo’s ears. As he suspected everything did.
He poured himself another glass of claret from the drink’s table and took his seat before the board. Greta perched on the sofa arm next to Raymond to watch.
Andrew’s gaze flickered over her. She wore an exquisite evening gown the color of lilacs threaded with silver, with diamonds at her throat and ears, her pale hair dressed in an elaborate chignon by her French maid.
Although undeniably lovely, Greta failed to banish the image of the governess from Andrew’s mind. He should have been repentant to have caught Miss Harrismith in dishabille, but found he wasn’t. Not a bit of it. Her face had flushed becomingly in her rose pink dressing gown. She’d unwittingly offered him a brief glimpse of a slim lower leg and ankle; her masses of curly brown hair half dry down her back. Initially embarrassed, her relief to meet Irvine quickly banished any self-consciousness. It would not have occurred to her that she looked so appealing. He found the absence of artifice beguiling and accepted that he was beyond the pale.
He gave a deep regretful sigh, a little guilty about Greta, because of the direction of his thoughts. She’d accused him of fancying Miss Harrismith. And dammit, he did! He’d known such men who took their governesses to bed. Andrew had disparaged such behavior as the lowest of the low. And while it was only thoughts and not deeds, he still accepted what a hypocrite he’d become.
He laid down his chips centering them at the corners of four cards.
Raymond protested, and Ivo chuckled.
Greta kept silent and avoided eye contact. Andrew toyed with the stem of his wineglass. It proved to be an uncomfortable evening, and he did not look forward to the conversation between them which would likely follow. He couldn’t blame her for being angry. Circumstances had disrupted their plans for spending an enjoyable time together, and while he was so worried about William, he could not make himself care. Upheaval sometimes revealed people in a more honest light.
He and Greta would not suit, of that he was now quite sure. He acknowledged he’d been different in Vienna when his life was a giddy round of social gatherings. A charming world ruled by etiquette and oftentimes a brittle gaiety. Laughter, noise, and color swirling beneath crystal chandeliers, while some momentous matters were argued over in an antechamber and others gambled away their fortunes in the adjoining room.
But this was what he was, a man who preferred the quiet and the freedom of the country to Town. Who wished to enjoy his children while they were young. They would not thrive in the polluted air of London. The man he was before Catherine died. And whom he wished to be again. Not the social animal Greta thought she knew. He wasn’t about to change his mind, but he wished to handle the matter tactfully at the appropriate time.
As if she heard his thoughts, or sensed his cooling ardor, she leaned over and rested her hand on Raymond’s shoulder and spoke to him in a seductively low voice.
When Raymond chuckled, and patted her hand, Ivo cast Andrew a measuring glance.
As the evening continued, Greta continued to flirt outrageously with his cousin and Raymond seemed under her spell. Ivo made several attempts to distract them but failed. It was Greta’s way of gaining his attention, Andrew understood, and making him pay for his careless disregard of her, so he chose to ignore it. Trouble was Raymond had begun to take it far too seriously.
