Jane sat in the mail coach, squeezed between a massive merchant and a fat farmer, as the carriage raced for London. The space was so tight she could barely move. The air was thick with the smell of sausage someone had eaten for breakfast, the mingled cologne of her seatmates, the lemon verbena perfume of the farmer’s wife across from her. The drumming hooves matched her heartbeat.

She tried to count her blessings. She was safe and relatively warm, thanks to the cramped quarters. Mr. Quayle had loaned her a wool coat and the money for inside passage, so at least she wasn’t riding out in the elements like the few other hardy passengers on the top of the coach.

“Least I can do,” the master of horse had said as he’d put her in the duke’s own carriage for the trip to Walton-on-Thames. “And I’m sure we’ll see each other again so you can return the coat.”

She wasn’t nearly so sure. In fact, the future had never looked bleaker. She was leaving Alaric, the girls, and her heart behind. Even if Miss Thorn found her another situation, she didn’t have the stomach for this business. And yet, what choice did she have? She didn’t possess Patience’s temperament to sit with the sickly, nor any experience to commend her to another sort of work. She was eminently suited to serve as provisioner for the cavalry. A shame her gender prevented her from signing up.

Outside came a yell. The farmer and his wife peered out the window.

“Someone’s trying to catch the coach,” she reported.

The merchant pulled his satchel closer. “Must be a highwayman. He should know better than to try to stop His Majesty’s mail.”

The call came again, louder, and the hair stood up on Jane’s arms. It couldn’t be!

A white-coated horse thundered past, the rider’s greatcoat streaming out behind him like wings, and she caught enough of a glimpse to see the hair sticking up off the horse’s forehead like a horn.

“Stop this coach!” Alaric shouted.

“This is the mail,” the driver shouted back. “We stop for no one.”

“I am the Duke of Wey. Stop, or I’ll see you before the king.”

“Duke of Wey,” the merchant said with a snort. “Duke of no way, more like.”

The farmer’s wife nodded. “What sort of duke rides about in the rain, chasing coaches?”

Hers did.

Jane pressed her hand to her chest, as if she could still the hope rising inside her. He’d come for her, come after her. That had to mean something.

She thought for a moment the coachman would refuse, but then the mighty vehicle slowed, came to a stop. The passengers exchanged glances.

Alaric leaped from the unicorn and wrenched open the door. “Jane Kimball, come out!”

Now they all stared at her.

With an apologetic look, Jane shoved past her seatmates and climbed from the coach. The gentlemen on the top of the carriage gazed down at her, as if expecting some sort of farce to play out. She was a little afraid they were about to get their money’s worth.

“We can’t stop long,” the coachman warned Alaric. “We have a schedule to meet.”

“This will only take a moment,” the duke promised. His hair was blown back from his face, his cheeks red. His eyes gleamed green against the grey of the day. He took Jane’s hand in his.

“Forgive me, Jane, for being blind and stupid. Please come home with me.”

She wanted to kiss him; she wanted to push him back and escape before her heart hurt any more. “It’s impossible. I’m a horrid governess. You must see that.”

“You’re an unusual governess,” he allowed. “But I think you’d make the perfect wife and mother.”

Jane stared at him. That tender smile, the gentle squeeze of her hand said he truly was asking her to marry him. She couldn’t believe it. “Really?”

His smile deepened. “Never doubt a duke.”

Still she hesitated. So much stood against them—Larissa, Her Grace, Parsons and the rest of the staff, Society’s expectations, his need for an heir. Yet surely, if they believed in each other, they could overcome the rest.

“Go on, miss!” the farmer’s wife urged. “Say yes. He’s a duke!”

“More than a duke,” he promised Jane. “I’m the man who loves you.”

Jane bit her lip to keep from crying. She’d never thought to hear those words again, to feel the emotion singing through her. She wrapped her arms about him.

“Yes, Alaric, yes! I will marry you.”

The entire mail coach cheered.

“Best wishes, Your Grace, miss,” the coachman said, gathering the reins. “Give His Majesty my regards.” He saluted them with his whip, then shouted to the horses and started down the road at a high rate of speed. The men on the outside waved their hats at her.

As if he feared she’d change her mind, he held her hand as he positioned Belle’s unicorn for mounting. “You’ll have to ride up with me, and we won’t go as fast returning. This brave beast gave her all.”

She touched the horse’s neck with her free hand. “But what a run. Only a unicorn could do so well.”

The horse blinked her eyes against the rain. It was almost as if she’d winked at Jane.

Alaric put his hands on her waist and lifted her to the saddle. Then he swung up behind her. His arms bracing her, he turned the horse and headed back toward the island.

“We have a lot of people to convince,” she told him, warmth percolating into her from his body so close. “It’s not every governess who marries a duke.”

“No one’s opinion matters but yours and mine.”

Jane shook her head. “Spoken like a duke. What about the girls? What about Her Grace?”

“Callie and Belle adore you. And Mother all but ordered me to bring you back.”

Jane laughed. “Because she didn’t want to go looking for another governess, I warrant.”

“Because she expects me to marry you. She told me so herself.”

“I wish Callie had been there to confirm it,” Jane muttered.

Now he laughed. “Don’t worry, Jane. I’m a duke. I am allowed to make decisions.”

Jane leaned her head back against his chest, fancying that she could hear his heart beating. “Up until now, your decisions have been entirely about your duty. You’ll pardon me if I find the sudden change suspicious.”

His arms tightened around her. “I admit to selfish reasons for wanting to marry you. I love you, Jane. I want you at my side, not up in a schoolroom far out of reach. But the decision doesn’t just benefit me. It gives the girls a mother who cares about them, who will be engaged in their upbringing, who will make sure they don’t turn into the pretty dolls my mother seems to prefer.”

“You’re right there. You couldn’t keep me out of the schoolroom. I intend to see our girls more than once a day. No offense meant.”

“None taken. You reminded me I have a duty not just as a duke but as a father. I will take a greater part in my daughters’ lives as well.”

Jane cuddled closer, relishing the feel of him around her. “Very well. You’ve made your case. I already agreed to be your bride. There’s just one thing.”

“Name it.”

“You get to win over Larissa.”

 

~~~

 

Alaric rode into the courtyard of the castle, head high. He rather felt like a conquering hero, returning the fair princess to her rightful place. He still couldn’t quite believe Jane had agreed to his outrageous request. But, meeting her gaze, he knew he’d made the right decision.

Two footmen came out to greet him. He dismounted and lifted Jane from the saddle. “See that this fine steed receives a good rub down and an apple,” he said to one of his staff, laying a hand on the unicorn’s flank. “She saved my life today.”

The footman’s eyes widened, but he took the reins and led the horse toward the stable yard. Alaric turned to the other. “Gather Mrs. Kimball’s things and move them to the best guest chamber.”

“Oh, Alaric, no,” Jane protested. “That isn’t necessary.”

“My bride has no need to sleep in the servants’ quarters,” he said.

The footman’s brows shot up, but he hurried to obey.

Alaric was looking forward to his next duty, but Parsons was not in his usual spot in the entry hall.

“Afraid to face me, the scoundrel,” he said.

Jane gave his hand a squeeze. “Let him be for now. You need to talk to Larissa.”

He shuddered, and she laughed. “Now who’s afraid?”

“Guilty. Perhaps we could wait until after dinner.”

“You just called me your bride in front of the footman. By dinner, the entire island and half the county will know the Duke of Wey is marrying his governess. Larissa deserves to hear it from you, before Callie reports it.”

He could not argue that. Taking a deep breath, he went to confront his daughters.

He found them in his mother’s sitting room, listening to Her Grace read from the Book of Ruth. The landowner who took pity and married a widow. Rather appropriate. If Boaz had felt half for Ruth what Alaric felt for Jane, it would have been a happy union.

They all looked up as he came into the room.

Belle scrambled to her feet. “Did you find her, Father?”

“I did. Your unicorn led me to her. I am pleased to report that Mrs. Kimball is back in the castle and changing into dry clothes even as we speak.”

Callie rose as well. “But Betsy said Mr. Parsons sacked her.”

Belle frowned. “Why would Mr. Parsons put Mrs. Kimball in a sack? She wouldn’t like that.”

Alaric motioned them back into their chairs and went to sit on the floor among them. Interesting that Larissa hadn’t said a word. She was frowning, but over Jane’s return or his informal posture, he wasn’t sure. Very likely dukes were not supposed to recline on the carpet.

“Sacking means discharging, Belle,” he explained. “Mr. Parsons told Mrs. Kimball she could not work here anymore.”

Callie nodded, setting her pale curls to swaying. “Which is why Grandmother sacked him.”

Alaric’s look veered to his mother. Her Grace raised her chin. “I never liked that man. Entirely too full of himself. He had no right to discharge dear Jane.”

Belle nodded too. “I want Mrs. Kimball to work here. I love her.”

“Me too,” Callie said.

Alaric turned to his oldest. “What about you, Larissa?”

She shifted on her seat. “Mrs. Kimball isn’t a very good governess. But I like her anyway.”

“Then why did you tell Mr. Parsons it was all her fault?” Callie demanded.

Alaric frowned as Larissa squirmed. “Is this true, Larissa? Did you lie about Mrs. Kimball?”

Larissa lifted her chin. “I didn’t lie. It was her fault. If she hadn’t yelled at Simmons, you wouldn’t have sacked him, and he wouldn’t have wanted to punish everyone by breaking the lock.” She slumped, hands worrying before her gown. “I truly like Mrs. Kimball, Father. I just wanted her to learn her lesson. You must follow the rules.”

“Ah, yes.” Alaric glanced at his mother, who also squirmed. “The rules. Who makes the rules, Larissa? Who says they must be obeyed?”

She blinked. “Everyone.”

Callie nodded. “Miss Carruthers, Miss Waxworth, Miss Durham, Lady Fredericka, Grandmother.”

“And Mother,” Larissa murmured.

So that was the problem. Even from the grave Evangeline was exerting her influence over her daughter.

“I grant you there are rules that keep people safe,” Alaric said carefully. “Those are important to follow. There are also guidelines to polite behavior. We should generally follow them so that everyone feels welcomed and valued. But sometimes, doing the right thing means breaking the rules.”

Larissa frowned. “Like when?”

“Like when you insist that your son marry a woman he doesn’t love for the good of the family,” his mother put in. “The right thing to do is to let him find someone he can love, who still fits in well with the family.”

Alaric gave her a grateful smile. “Like when you become so busy with your duty you forget you have three daughters more precious to you than life. The right thing to do is make sure they know it.”

Belle wiggled out of her seat and climbed into his lap. “I love you, Father.”

“Me too,” Callie said, pasting herself against his side.

Larissa slid off her seat and put her arms as far around him as she could reach. “Me too,” she whispered.

He held them close a moment, marveling at the gift he’d been given, a gift he might have overlooked but for Jane.

“I love you too, girls,” he said, throat tight. “And I love Mrs. Kimball, that is Jane. I’ve asked her to be my wife and your mother.”

His mother beamed, eyes tearing. Belle and Callie pulled back and exchanged delighted glances.

Larissa sighed as she disengaged, and he readied himself for a fight.

“Oh, how marvelous,” she said, smile forming. “We’ll have a mother, and we can get a real governess.”