The Duke's Marriage Mission (16 page)

“Perhaps one or two,” she admitted then obliged him with a fuller account of some of her activities.

As she spoke, her tone and expression grew animated. She painted such a vivid picture of Christmas at Nethercross that Hayden could imagine Kit and him in attendance, as well—helping the Kendrick girls gather greenery, passing around mugs of piping hot cider to the carol singers, partaking in festive dinners. His sense of caution sternly warned him that such frivolity would carry a host of threats to his son—a fall, a chill, acute indigestion. Yet when he pictured Kit’s smiles and sparkling eyes, the promise of his son’s enjoyment outweighed the risks.

“Lord and Lady Steadwell sound like a fine couple.” Anyone who treated Leah Shaw so kindly merited his approval, even if they had lured her away from Renforth Abbey for a whole fortnight. “You say her ladyship was a friend of yours at that dreadful school? How did they come to marry?”

By now they were well into a course of succulent game pie but Hayden scarcely noticed what he ate. Miss Shaw’s spirited conversation provided a more nourishing feast for his mind and heart.

“That is a story fit for a fairy tale,” she replied. “You see Grace was always a great beauty, though it brought her nothing but trouble at school, and later in her work as a governess.”

When Miss Shaw told him how her friend had suffered unwelcome attentions from gentlemen in the houses where she’d worked, a blaze of outrage swept through Hayden. “I hope you were never subjected to any such liberties in your previous positions!”

She laughed at the idea though he found nothing amusing about it. “Fortunately, my looks do not begin to compare with Grace’s. Neither is my disposition as sweet and gentle as hers. There was one young scoundrel who claimed to admire me. When he persisted after I tried to discourage him, he got a pitcher of cold water over his head to cool his ardor.”

Hayden’s relief vented in a hoot of laughter. It eased his mind to know Leah Shaw was capable of taking care of herself in such a situation. Yet he yearned to protect her if she should ever need it. He wanted no harm coming to the woman who was so important to his son.

“Poor Grace was not so fortunate,” Miss Shaw continued. “By the time she accepted the position at Nethercross, she had resorted to disguising her looks with spectacles and a dowdy, old-fashioned cap. It turned out Lord Steadwell had hired her precisely because she appeared so plain. His daughters’ previous governess had eloped and he did not want to risk them losing another one in the same way.”

As she related her friend’s history, Hayden hung on her every word. He could sympathize with Lord Steadwell’s concern for his daughters, yet he wondered how the baron could have failed to recognize the beauty living under his roof. Much as Leah Shaw extolled the delicate golden loveliness of her friend, he preferred more vivid coloring, animated by a bright, lively spirit.

By the time pudding was served Miss Shaw had concluded the story. “After all their early difficulties, Lord and Lady Steadwell appear to be living happily ever after. Now that he has recovered from the grief of his first wife’s death and is happy with Grace, his daughters are far happier, as well.”

Her words sparked the beginning of an idea in Hayden’s mind—an idea that part of him was reluctant to consider.

“There was one other thing that happened on my holiday,” Miss Shaw continued. Was she perhaps puzzled by his lack of response to the conclusion of her story? “I am pleased to report, I have my next position already engaged.”

“I beg your pardon?” Hayden knew what she must mean yet he shrank from acknowledging it.

“Admiral and Mrs. DeLancey are planning to take her son on a tour of the Continent and they have asked me to accompany them as Henry’s governess.” Miss Shaw’s mobile features glowed as she spoke of the opportunity. “What could be more ideal? I shall be able to travel and see the sights at no expense to myself. Then when I have saved enough money for my own tour, I can return to those places I admired or visit others the DeLanceys missed on theirs.”

It was clear she expected Hayden to share her enthusiasm for these plans, but that was impossible. He could not even pretend. The toothsome pudding turned to sawdust in his mouth.

“There is only one minor difficulty.” Miss Shaw pretended to measure it between her thumb and forefinger.

Only
one
and
minor
? Hayden could foresee any number of significant difficulties with her leaving Renforth Abbey.

“What might that be?” he forced out the question in spite of his constricted throat.

“The DeLanceys hope to sail for Ostend by the end of June, which is a month earlier than I had intended to leave Renforth Abbey,” Kit’s governess replied in an offhand tone, oblivious to the tempest into which she had thrown Hayden. “But if we begin right away I am certain we can find a suitable replacement by then.”

They might find a governess to fill the position, Hayden reflected as he tried to stifle a spasm of alarm. But would they ever find one as devoted to Kit as Leah Shaw? Or one courageous enough to oppose the will of a stubborn duke to secure more freedom for her pupil? Even if they located a candidate with those qualities, would she be so adept at making Kit’s studies a pleasure for him rather than a chore? Would she provide Hayden with such stimulating company?

Once again, it seemed Althea had been right. It was imperative he find a way to keep Leah Shaw at Renforth Abbey—by whatever means necessary. That conviction collided in Hayden’s mind with an earlier thought he had been reluctant to acknowledge. Lord Steadwell had kept his daughters’ governess at Nethercross by making the lady his wife.

Hayden wondered whether he ought to follow the baron’s excellent example.

Chapter Ten

“A
re you quite well, Miss Shaw?” The duke’s question stirred Leah from her private thoughts as she stared out a tall window at the end of the west range.

Her view of the Renforth Abbey grounds was as drab and dreary as it could possibly be. In the two weeks since she had returned from Berkshire, the dusting of Christmas snow had been washed away by days of cold rain. Only once during that time had she managed to escape the house for a brief walk. Even then there had been nothing to see but sodden ground, bare trees and bushes. Her boots had gotten soaked and the hem of her skirt thoroughly spattered with mud.

Lord Northam’s warm, caring tone seemed to pierce the winter gloom like a ray of May sunshine.

Leah turned away from the window and affected a cheerful air for his sake. How many long, isolated winters had he endured caring for his son? “Do not worry, Your Grace. I promise you, I am not ill. If I had a chill or a cough, I would make sure to keep away from your son and not risk him catching it.”

“I know.” The duke regarded her with quiet trust. “But I did not inquire only for Kit’s sake. You may not be seriously
ill
, but you do not seem to be quite yourself of late. I hope you would confide in me if something were troubling you. I would very much like to assist you if it were within my power.”

His solicitude made Leah smile. This time there was nothing feigned about it. “Unless you possess an uncanny ability to influence the climate, I fear there is little you or anyone can do. Winter always has a depressing effect upon my spirits when I am obliged to remain indoors so much. It reminds me of my years at school, which felt like one endless cold, damp, hungry winter.”

What a blessed relief it was to be able to speak freely of her time at the Pendergast School. None of her previous employers had ever asked about her past or given any sign they cared. The sincere sympathy in the duke’s gaze seemed to reach out and wrap around her.

“There is no excuse for you to be cold or hungry under my roof.” Lord Northam held out his arm to her. “Dinner is waiting and we can move our places to the end of the table nearest the fire, which I will have stirred up to a good warm blaze.”

“Those things will certainly help.” Leah grasped the duke’s strong arm and felt her spirits beginning to lift. “Though no more than the warmth and nourishment of your company. Your kindness never fails to lighten the winter gloom.”

“You make it sound like a sacrifice on my part.” Lord Northam cast her a sidelong smile as they headed off to the dining room. “I assure you nothing could be further from the truth. All the years I did little but care for my son, I did not realize how much I missed adult conversation on subjects other than estate business.”

His remark reminded Leah of what her friend Grace had said about the duke being lonely. She was pleased to hear her company had helped to ease his isolation, though she wondered whether any other companion might have done just as well.

“Your wife...” The words burst out before she could stop them. “I suppose you miss her very much, still?”

She recalled one other time they had talked of his wife and how reluctant he had seemed to discuss the subject. What had made her raise it now? Grace had told her how long and how deeply Lord Steadwell had mourned his late wife before finally opening his heart to love again. Did the Duke of Northam expect to remain alone for the rest of his life, devoting all his affection to his son?

For his sake, Leah hoped not. And yet the thought of him remarrying did not sit well with her, either.

Lord Northam considered her question. Rather than changing the subject as she feared he might, the duke gave her an answer. “I suppose I do. I hardly know. By now I have been widowed longer than I was married. My time with Celia feels like a distant dream.”

As she pondered his unexpected reply, the duke posed Leah a question she’d anticipated even less. “Speaking of marriage, Miss Shaw, have
you
ever been tempted to settle down? You told me once that you had never been asked, though recently you mentioned a suitor who got a pitcher of cold water over his head.”

What made him ask such a question? Leah wondered. It flustered her, though she was not quite certain why. How could she refuse to answer after the duke had been so forthcoming in his reply to her?

“I would not dignify that fellow with the title of suitor, Your Grace. I doubt his intentions were honorable. If they had been, I would not have thrown cold water on him but neither would I have encouraged him. I have remained single less because I lacked proper suitors than because I have never had an inclination to wed.” Somehow her declaration did not sound as adamant as it might once have done.

They had reached the dining room by this time, for which Leah was grateful. Now their conversation could return to more impersonal topics.

But after the duke had Mr. Gibson shift their places nearer the fire, and they took their seats, Lord Northam made no effort to change the subject. “Why have you not wished to marry, may I ask? Have you not met a gentleman who meets your expectations of a husband? Or do you find something objectionable about the institution itself?”

Leah tried to suppress her impatience, reminding herself it was she who had first raised the subject of marriage. “I cannot say I have ever entertained any particular expectations of a husband, Your Grace.”

What qualities would she look for if she were to change her mind about marriage? This was the first time Leah had ever considered the matter. Humor would be a great asset, obviously, as well as kindness and strength of character. Any man who married her would need to be patient and understanding. A voice from deep in her mind warned her not to go any further with such an inventory.

“Then it is the
idea
of marriage you find repellent?” The duke did not appear to have much appetite for his soup. He kept glancing down into the bowl whenever Leah tried to meet his eye, stirring its contents with a furtive air. “On what grounds, may I ask?”

Had they not talked about this enough for one evening?

Leah tried to stifle her impatience. “From the time I was very young, my grandmother warned me that marriage meant the end of a woman’s freedom.
The tender trap
she called it. She said she had once longed to travel abroad but instead she was persuaded to marry my grandfather. By the time she was widowed and her children grown, she had lost her sight. She hoped I would be able to see and do all the things she felt she had missed.”

Leah chided herself for going on at such length. She stilled her tongue and put it to work consuming her soup.

“With all due respect to your late grandmother,” the duke replied in a tone of cool disapproval, “it sounds as if she was not allowing you any more choice in the matter than she was given. Is not the ability to make decisions about our lives the most basic freedom there is?”

A calm whisper of reason told Leah that Lord Northam had a point. But that whisper was drowned out by bellows of outrage from her heart.

Ripping the napkin from her lap, she surged to her feet and flung the square of crisp, snowy linen onto the table. “What right have you to question my grandmother’s advice when you limit your son’s choices so severely?”

The duke hastily struggled to rise, as propriety dictated a gentleman should. Though she knew she had already said too much, Leah could not control her impulse to lash out at him. “The longer you keep Kit ignorant and immobile, the fewer choices he will have as he grows up. Is that what you want for him?”

The look in Lord Northam’s eyes gave her the bitter satisfaction of knowing she had provoked the same intense reaction in him that he had stirred in her.

Lightning seemed to flash in his gaze, not quite masking the deep shadow of pain. “I want my son to have the opportunity to grow up! I thought you understood that. I fail to see how my actions compare with poisoning the mind of an impressionable child against marriage.”

Why could she not defuse this mounting antagonism with a jest? Leah hated the volatile feelings seething within her and rather feared them. They threatened to seize control of her words and actions, leaving her powerless to choose a different way. No one had ever made her feel so helpless to direct her emotions.

What gave Hayden Latimer that dangerous power? Part of her guessed the answer but she refused to admit it, for that would make it true.

“Poison my
mind
?” she echoed the duke’s words, her tone bristling with scorn. “Gran did nothing of the kind. If she had, at least that would have been no worse than poisoning a child’s body.”

That was not fair. She knew it as soon as the words left her mouth. The duke had trusted the wrong person, but he had not fully grasped the danger of giving Kit laudanum. Though part of her took grim satisfaction in knowing she had struck a blow, her conscience reproached her. The staff of the Pendergast School had taught her little of true charity, but Leah thought she had learned something of it from her friends.

Pride and hurt refused to let her back down yet. But before the duke could say anything more to escalate their quarrel, Leah sensed the best thing she could do for both of them was disengage, giving them an opportunity to recover their composure.

“If you will excuse me, Your Grace, I fear I have lost my appetite.”

Without waiting to hear whether he granted her leave to depart, Leah spun away and fled the dining room. Regrets nipped at her heels like a pack of hunting dogs as she dashed down corridors and upstairs. When she reached her room, she slammed the door behind her to shut them out, but they were too quick.

They pounced upon her, driving her to her knees where a bewildering storm of tears overwhelmed her.

* * *

Could his first faltering overtures toward Leah Shaw have gone worse?

As her rapid footsteps retreated into the distance, Hayden collapsed back onto his chair. He was grateful for the discretion of his servants, who had melted away at the first sign of trouble. Still there was bound to be gossip below stairs in spite of Gibson’s inevitable efforts to suppress it.

Such a scene had not played out at Renforth Abbey since the days of his marriage, unless one counted his son’s tantrums. Even his sister, with whom he had been so often at odds, did not provoke him to such a show of temper. Was he misguided to consider wedding another woman whose priorities and disposition were so much at odds with his?

In poor Celia’s case, he had not realized their differences until it was too late. Their marriage, which had begun with so much hope and promise, had been strained by the disparity between their temperaments and interests. He’d wanted to believe that he and Leah Shaw had settled all their differences and come to a tolerant understanding of one another. This jarring confrontation had proven him wrong. He reproached himself for escalating hostilities. Nothing he’d said to her was untrue, but some of it had been most unkind. Though the accusations she’d hurled at him had been hurtful, that did not make them false.

A subtle movement drew his gaze toward the dining room door where he spied the butler hovering.

“Shall I fetch the next course, Your Grace?” Gibson was clearly trying hard to ignore the empty chair opposite his master’s.

Hayden shook his head. “Miss Shaw felt unwell and I must confess I have lost my appetite, too. Please convey my apologies to Cook and assure her it is no reflection on her skill.”

“Very well, Your Grace.” The butler managed to sound as if he believed every word, which Hayden highly doubted. “Is there anything else you require?”

Brandy, perhaps? Again, Hayden shook his head. He did not approve of the frequency with which many of his peers sought to drown their troubles.

“Nothing, thank you.” Possessed of a sudden need for movement, he rose from the table and strode off without giving much thought to where he was headed.

His feet bore him to the cloisters, where he had often come in the past to clear his mind. The long enclosed walkway leading to the chapel was damp and rather chilly, which succeeded in cooling any lingering embers of anger within him. The soft, steady drip of water off the eaves was a soothing sound, though he wondered if Leah Shaw might find it dismal.

Between the isolation of Renforth Abbey in winter and his blundering efforts to sound her out about marriage, it would be a wonder if Kit’s governess did not pack her bags and leave his household at first light. In spite of their confrontation, Hayden could not bear the thought of her going...for his son’s sake.

It was
because
of their differences that Leah Shaw would make an ideal mother for Kit. Her compulsion to give the child as much freedom as possible balanced his caution and protectiveness. Between those opposite stances, with a certain amount of give and take, they had so far managed to strike a compromise that benefited his son. Hayden wanted that to continue.

But how could it if he drove the lady away? A shiver ran through him that was not entirely due to the damp chill of the cloisters.

It drove him back into the house, his pace hastening with every step. As he mounted the great staircase at a run, he met Leah Shaw descending almost as fast. They came to a halt on the landing and addressed one another at the same time, each in a breathless rush.