Forever My Duke--Unlikely Duchesses Read online

  To her last breath, Audrey had desired only to shield her son from harm. Even if she didn’t agree with the decision, Natalie could understand that urgency, given the ferocious attack that had cost so many lives. Yet she’d have been happy to keep him with her forever. Nothing had ever meant more to her than fulfilling the role of foster mother to Leo.

  But now her fears rose to the fore. What life awaited him here? Who were these people that Audrey had felt compelled to flee at the age of eighteen? Why would she be so adamant about giving her son to a grandfather who might not even want him?

  Fierce resolve steeled Natalie’s spine. No matter what she had promised, she would never leave Leo in a harmful situation. She would remain with him until assuring herself that he’d be happy here at Oak Knoll.

  And if he was not?

  Then she would take him back to America and raise him herself.

  * * *

  Hadrian allowed Miss Fanshawe and Leo to alight first from the post chaise. While she turned to straighten the boy’s collar, he glanced up at the familiar stone façade of the manor house. So many of his childhood memories lay within these walls. Although the estate looked dreary from the hard winter, he admitted to a nostalgic fondness for the place. On school holidays, he’d whiled away many an hour fishing at the pond, galloping over the hills, or joining his uncle in hunting parties during autumn.

  He believed Leo could be happy here, too.

  If, that is, Godwin was amenable to accepting the son of his runaway daughter. Long ago, the man had forbidden anyone even to speak her name. Having been away at Oxford at the time of the brouhaha, Hadrian had learned second-hand about the quarrel in which Audrey had declared her intention to wed the man she loved and Godwin had threatened to disown her if she did. It had long been understood that Godwin intended for Hadrian to offer for her, although Hadrian had always viewed her as a sister, and a rather pious one at that. He’d suffered no heartbreak when she had eloped, other than wishing he’d had the chance to renounce any claim on her in hopes she might have stayed in England. Godwin, on the other hand, had acted as if she were dead.

  And now she was.

  Hadrian’s chest tightened. Moralistic or not, Audrey had been a familiar part of his youth and he had a keen desire to know what tragedy had befallen her and her husband. It had been something horrific, judging by the haunted expression on Miss Fanshawe’s face and the way she’d refused to speak of it in front of Leo.

  The massive front door clicked open, and a man stepped out onto the portico. The Earl of Godwin epitomized the proper gentleman in a nut-brown coat and nankeen pantaloons. His thick thatch of hair had receded at the temples, and age had dulled the color from a dark gold to the paleness of straw. Despite being of an unremarkable height and build, he exuded authority from his squared shoulders to the proud tilt of his jaw.

  His welcoming smile vanished as he spotted Miss Fanshawe and Leo. A puzzled frown confirmed that he was not expecting their arrival.

  Hadrian braced himself for an unpleasant scene. He didn’t share Miss Fanshawe’s belief that Godwin would be thrilled to acknowledge the boy. Yet he resolved to do whatever he could to facilitate this meeting.

  For Leo’s sake. And for Audrey’s.

  He offered Miss Fanshawe his arm, and for once she did not scorn gentlemanly protocol. Her gloved fingers curled around the crook of his elbow, gripping with a tightness that belied the pleasant curve of her lips. Given her independent streak, it surprised him to know that she could suffer from an attack of nerves.

  Little did she realize, he admired her pluck in crossing an ocean for the purpose of fulfilling a vow made to a dying woman. None of the ladies of his acquaintance would have had such fortitude. Most would have needed smelling salts at the mere suggestion of leaving the comforts of society.

  As they mounted the three wide steps to the entry, she held Leo’s hand. Uncharacteristically shy, the boy stayed close to her skirts. Hadrian was reminded of himself at about that age, compelled to leave his widowed mother and live with his cousins. He could still remember his mother’s weeping and his sense of being frightened and alone—but at least he’d had some familiarity with this house and the people here.

  Leo had only Miss Fanshawe.

  “Delighted to see you, Clayton,” Godwin said. “I presume the ice storm delayed you? Richard was jesting that you’d lost your way. After all, it’s been at least six years since you’ve deigned to visit Oak Knoll.”

  “We see one another often enough in London during the season, so the journey never seemed necessary. May I add, you’re looking in prime health.”

  After the two men shook hands, the earl’s affability vanished into a haughty stare directed at the others. “You’ve brought guests?”

  “We met on the journey quite by happenstance. Lord Godwin, may I present Miss Fanshawe and Leo. They’ve come to call on you.” Hadrian deliberately left off the boy’s last name. And because he didn’t wish to give Miss Fanshawe the chance to offer her hand in lieu of a curtsy, he hustled them toward the door, which was held open by a footman. “Come, let’s get out of the chill.”

  The entrance hall wasn’t much warmer than the outdoors. Hadrian had expected that from the long years of living here. Even if there had been a hearth, it would have been difficult to heat such a cavernous space.

  Handing his greatcoat to the footman, he noticed that Godwin had not followed at once. As the man trudged toward them, his complexion looked rather ashen. Had he recognized Miss Fanshawe’s name? Had he received her letters, after all?

  Hadrian suspected as much, though it was difficult to be certain.

  Her attention on the earl, Miss Fanshawe surrendered her cloak and bonnet. A hint of stiffness in her manner indicated she was unsure of her reception. She helped Leo remove his coat while allowing the boy to retain hold of his miniature ship.

  When she turned toward Hadrian, a fist of desire struck him unawares. He was hard-pressed not to gawk at the shapely form revealed by the shedding of her voluminous outer garments. Not that there was anything indecorous about her appearance; rather, the simplicity of the plum gown served to accentuate her lustrous beauty. In London, she would attract a retinue of adoring gentlemen drawn by that stunning combination of upswept sable hair and luminous green eyes. With her head held high and her shoulders squared, she looked fierce and formidable. As if she were girded for battle.

  “Lord Godwin,” she began, “I believe you may know who I am.”

  “Perhaps this matter is best discussed in private,” Hadrian said smoothly. He willed her to understand that it would only make Godwin hostile if they broached the topic of a long-lost grandson in front of the footman.

  She aimed a measuring look at Hadrian and gave a small nod. Just then, Leo tugged on her skirt.

  “Miss Fanshawe, look at all the axes and swords!” Oblivious to any undercurrents, the boy was craning his neck to view the collection of armaments mounted on the paneled walls, and the suits of armor positioned on either side of the broad oak staircase. “There’s a real knight! Two of them!”

  She smiled down at him, smoothing his disheveled hair. “So I see. Only imagine how heavy that contraption must have been to wear into battle.”

  “You have to be a big, strong man. When I grow up, I want to be a knight. I’ll kill the enemy with my sword.”

  As the boy pretended to jab the air, Godwin’s ice-blue eyes narrowed. In a guttural grumble, he addressed Hadrian. “The family is waiting for us in the drawing room. The footman can escort these two to the kitchen to wait. I will speak to Miss Fanshawe after luncheon.”

  “No,” Hadrian stated. “They will accompany us upstairs.”

  The earl firmed his lips in a vexed expression that Hadrian recognized from his youth. But Godwin was no longer his guardian and knew better than to gainsay a duke, especially one who directed an implacable stare at him. Hadrian seldom pulled rank out of respect for his father’s cousin; however, this was a situation in whi
ch ducal status came in handy.

  Godwin gave a stiff nod, then led the way up the staircase. Hadrian followed with Miss Fanshawe and Leo, who clutched his toy ship like a talisman. Though he kept close to his guardian’s skirts, the boy gawked at the old shields on the walls as if he’d never seen anything quite so fascinating.

  Hadrian took that as a good sign. Leo soon would come to know the colorful history of this house and eventually to appreciate his noble ancestry. Providing, of course, Godwin could be convinced to forget his damned pride and acknowledge his daughter’s son.

  Upstairs, they went along a dim corridor, through an arched doorway, and into a drawing room that was decorated in rich shades of green and gold. A crackling blaze in the fireplace made the room decidedly warmer than the rest of the house. At the entry of the newcomers, the two people sitting by the hearth rose to their feet. Hadrian strode ahead of Miss Fanshawe to greet Lord Godwin’s wife, Priscilla.

  Always fashionable even in the country, Lady Godwin wore a gown of saffron lutestring, with cream braiding beneath her generous bosom. Her salt-and-pepper hair was elegantly styled to enhance her swanlike neck.

  She came forward with a smile and curtsied to him. “Your Grace, we’re delighted you’ve arrived at last. Ellen in particular was sorely disappointed that you missed dinner yesterday evening. She went upstairs for a moment, but should be back down shortly.”

  For a second his mind went blank. Why would his much younger second cousin mind his absence? Then he remembered with chagrin the entire purpose of this visit. To assess Lady Ellen’s suitability as a bride.

  How had he become so distracted he’d forgotten that?

  He gave the countess’s cheek the obligatory peck. “The sleet made the roads impassable, I’m afraid. I was forced to take shelter along the way.”

  A young man with wheat-gold hair strolled forward to shake his hand. His tailored blue coat bore the look of Weston, though with that wiry build he undoubtedly required padding in the shoulders. Richard, Viscount Wymark, was heir to the earldom and Godwin’s only son. At twenty, he’d already acquired a reputation in London as a gamester.

  “I see you’ve brought visitors to liven up this dull party, Clayton. And just who might they be?”

  Wymark flicked only the merest glance at Leo. A smile lifting one corner of his mouth, he fixed his gaze on Miss Fanshawe in a covetous manner that made Hadrian’s blood boil.

  Hadrian strove to alleviate the untimely spurt of anger. It was unlike him to allow emotion to cloud his judgment. Better he should get straight to the issue at hand.

  “Lady Godwin, Lord Wymark, this is Miss Fanshawe, who was stranded at the same inn as I was. By chance, I discovered she was on her way here to Oak Knoll to bring tidings of grave interest to this household.”

  Lord Godwin’s nostrils flared. Though he said nothing, he shot a piercing stare at Leo. Was he searching for a family resemblance?

  Hadrian detected a similarity in the fair hair and the slight roundness of the blue eyes, perhaps also in the bone structure of the face. It was hard to be certain since a child’s features were less defined than in adulthood.

  Miss Fanshawe stood with one hand protectively resting on the boy’s shoulder. “It’s a pleasure to meet all of you. Leo and I have traveled quite a long distance to come here.”

  “And we’re very eager to hear what you have to say.” Hadrian stepped to the fireplace to pull the bell rope. “However, perhaps you’ll agree this discussion is for adult ears only.”

  He’d have sent Leo downstairs from the start, but it was important that everyone have a look at him first. He went to the boy, hunkering down to his level. The wariness on that small face reminded Hadrian of himself at that age, sent here to live after the death of his father. Gently he said, “So, brat, would you rather stay here and listen to dull talk, or eat some cakes and biscuits in the kitchen?”

  Leo had been hanging close to Miss Fanshawe’s skirts, but his freckled features perked up at the prospect of treats. He cast a glance up at her. “May I, Miss Fanshawe?”

  She stroked her fingers through his hair. “Of course. Just not too many sweets or you’ll be sick.”

  Leo hesitated. “You won’t leave while I’m gone, will you?”

  “Absolutely not. I promise to come and fetch you shortly.”

  The warmth of her smile touched Hadrian more than it ought. It reached deep inside of him, stirring mawkish feelings that he didn’t care to examine. One thing was clear, her devotion to Leo made her a strong advocate for the orphaned child. Hadrian could see why his cousin had entrusted her with the boy’s care.

  He went to give instructions to the footman who had appeared in the doorway, while Miss Fanshawe hugged Leo before sending him on his way. Upon Hadrian’s return, he noted that the others were watching him—and Miss Fanshawe—with avid interest. Godwin appeared to be clenching his jaw, etching hard lines in his patrician features.

  Wymark strolled to the sideboard. “Brandy, anyone?” he asked, waving the decanter. “You look as if you could use a drink, Clayton.”

  Hadrian declined the offer with a shake of his head. He’d as soon not had Wymark present, but could hardly evict him from the drawing room in his own home. Perhaps it was just as well the family hear this together. It would save him the trouble of multiple explanations.

  Lady Godwin fluttered her pale hands. “What a shoddy hostess you must think me, dear Hadrian! Though it’s nearly time for luncheon, I should have rung for refreshments.”

  “Not now,” he said. “In fact, you may wish to sit down. All of you.”

  Looking mystified, she obeyed, resuming her chair by the hearth and arranging her skirts. Miss Fanshawe did likewise, sitting with perfect posture, her hands folded in her lap. The only unladylike aspect about her was the vigilant way in which she studied each individual in the group.

  The other two men took nearby seats, while Hadrian opted to remain standing with his elbow resting on the fireplace mantel. “Now that we’re all settled,” he said, “I’m afraid I have unhappy tidings. As you know, Lady Audrey and her husband fled England a decade ago. I regret to inform you that Miss Fanshawe has come from America to bring us word of their deaths.”

  Lady Godwin gasped. “Oh no. How dreadful!”

  Her expression held the appearance of sorrow, but the lack of tears was understandable in light of the fact that she had been Audrey’s stepmother. As Lord Godwin’s second wife, she had tended to favor her own children, Wymark and Ellen. Wymark himself looked less than grief-stricken, for he’d been a boy of only ten at the time of Audrey’s elopement. He was leaning casually back in his chair, swirling the brandy in his glass.

  The earl displayed no emotion whatsoever. His inscrutable face might have been carved from marble. As if to further shield his thoughts, he shifted his gaze to stare into the flames of the fire.

  Yes, Hadrian judged, Godwin most definitely had received at least one or perhaps both of the letters sent by Miss Fanshawe, for he didn’t appear to be at all surprised by the news. It was also apparent that he hadn’t shared the content of those missives with his family.

  “Whatever happened to the poor girl?” Lady Godwin asked, groping for a handkerchief and pressing it to her cheek. “Was it illness? Or some dreadful accident? Oh, I warned Audrey not to leave this house for such a wild, uncivilized country! And with a common curate, too!”

  “Be that as it may,” Hadrian said crisply, striving to hide his impatience, “there is no point in rehashing the past. As to what happened, our visitor is privy to the details. She was Audrey’s closest friend.” He sent Miss Fanshawe a penetrating look, wondering at what secrets lurked behind that lovely face. “Perhaps now she will be so kind as to enlighten all of us.”

  Chapter 5

  Feeling the force of everyone’s attention, Natalie returned their scrutiny with tense composure. She hadn’t known what to expect from Audrey’s relatives, but it wasn’t this lukewarm reaction. Aside from the
duke, the only person who’d expressed any sadness was the countess, though she seemed to be putting on a performance rather than exhibiting heartfelt grief.

  Lady Godwin had been Audrey’s stepmother, Natalie recalled. Audrey had once alluded that the woman had seemed pleased by the elopement. Apparently, the countess had never warmed up to her stepdaughter, the only child of her husband’s first marriage.

  That assessment applied also to Audrey’s half brother, Lord Wymark, who seemed largely unaffected by the tragic news. He sat sipping his brandy, looking more avid than upset, as if he were hearing a bit of titillating gossip.

  Lord Godwin merely gazed at Natalie in flinty silence. On the long sea voyage, when she’d imagined this moment, she had hoped the man would feel anguish over the death of his eldest daughter. That perhaps over the years, he had come to regret sending Audrey into exile and washing his hands of her. But his aristocratic features revealed nothing.

  Did he truly feel so indifferent? Or had he already done his grieving weeks ago upon receiving one or both of Natalie’s letters? He was too much a stranger for her to discern the answer.

  The Duke of Clayton had shown the most genuine emotion. When she’d broken the news to him in the post chaise about Audrey’s death, stark distress had flashed over his face. He had regarded his second cousin as a sister, he’d said, having grown up with her in this house.

  At present, he stood somberly waiting for Natalie to speak.

  She took a certain solace in his grave countenance. It was clear that the duke, at least, had felt an affection for sweet, generous Audrey, who’d never had an unkind word to say about anyone. She had been an admirable person of strong convictions, brave enough to leave behind a life of luxury to be with the man she loved with all her heart and soul.

  They all needed to hear about that, not just her death.

  Natalie swallowed the lump in her throat. “To understand what happened,” she began, “first you need to know about Audrey’s life in America. She and her husband, the Reverend Jeremy Bellingham, shared a deep love for each other and for God’s word. They settled in the state of Pennsylvania and devoted themselves to preaching their faith to the people there. I first met them in Philadelphia about seven years ago. They were raising money to build a mission in the wilderness.”