They found the girls, sitting once more like little dolls, with the duchess. Only Larissa seemed to be in her element, smiling beatifically and commenting on the weather. Calantha was frozen, as if fearing to make the least mistake in word or deed, and Abelona’s fingers trembled on the cup that dwarfed her tiny hands.

“Wey,” Her Grace greeted her son with a welcoming smile. “What an unexpected pleasure. We have no need of you at present, Mrs. Kimball. You may go.”

Jane looked to the duke. He detached his arm from hers, and her heart sank. He was going to run away again, despite his brave words. She couldn’t blame him. Anyone should fear a tyrant.

“I asked Mrs. Kimball to join us, Mother,” he said. “I understand there’s some confusion about the girls’ course of study.”

Her Grace sniffed. “There certainly is. I see no need to force them to do complicated calculations. They aren’t studying to become accountants.”

Larissa’s smile was venomous. Calantha and Abelona shifted on their seats as if they wanted to escape.

“Perhaps I have a different definition of complicated, Your Grace,” Jane said. “And a higher estimation of your granddaughters’ abilities.”

The duchess drew herself up, to deliver a scold, no doubt, but the duke stepped between them. “Mrs. Kimball recommended a course of study, and I approved it. If you have an issue with the matter, address it to me.”

My, but he was magnificent. His head was high, his carriage erect, and she half expected to see a flaming sword appear in his hand.

His mother regarded him with a frown. “Very well. I believe your daughters would be better served preparing for the most important day of their lives.”

Larissa nodded emphatically. Calantha and Abelona fixed their gazes on their tea.

He cocked his head. “And what day would that be?”

“Why the day they come out, of course.” Her Grace shook her head as if astonished he would have to ask. “You can have no idea of the pressure. The need to do every little thing with perfection, from appearing before the queen to executing the first dance at your ball. Everything depends on it.”

Larissa drew in a breath, as if ready to take on the task now. Calantha had hunched in on herself as if fearing she would never measure up. Abelona had shut them out entirely, her gaze going to the window and the grey sky beyond. Jane wanted to reach out and gather them all close. Life was so much more!

“Everything,” the duke drawled. “So, in all your…years, Mother, you have never done anything more important than your come out.”

She smoothed her rose-colored skirts. “Nonsense. The come out was merely the beginning.”

“Precisely. There are many more days of equal or greater importance.”

“The day you wed,” Jane suggested.

He shot her a glance and a nod. “The days your children are born.”

All three of his daughters were watching him now.

“The day you learn you’ll be alone,” his mother murmured.

Jane’s heart cracked. She moved to the duchess’ side and lay a hand on her arm. “We are only alone if we choose to be, Your Grace.”

The duke joined her, setting his hand on his mother’s shoulder. “You are not alone, Mother. But I’d rather Mrs. Kimball prepare the girls for all those days. I hope you can respect that.”

She sniffed again, and this time the gesture held none of its usual disdain. “Certainly. When you explain it like that, it makes perfect sense.”

Calantha nudged Abelona, smile popping into place.

Larissa’s lower lip stuck out. “Then we have to learn arithmetic?”

“Arithmetic, science, history,” the duke said. “Art and riding as well.”

“I’m going to ride a unicorn,” Abelona piped up.

Her Grace frowned, but the duke grinned at Jane. “So I heard.”

Something fluttered in her stomach, as if Abelona’s unicorn was prancing inside her. She had felt that way only once before.

The day she’d met Jimmy.

She stomped the feeling down. She was a widow. Jimmy had only been gone thirteen months. And His Grace was a duke. She was the governess of his children. Any feelings she had would only end badly.

“Very well,” the duchess said. “The girls may return to their lessons. But I expect you to take an active role, Wey. No one sits a horse better than you do.”

And a horseman too? One of the reasons she’d fallen in love with Jimmy, she was sure, was the way he rode neck for leather. She found it hard to imagine her controlled, purposeful duke pounding across the fields.

And when had she started thinking of him as hers?

He smiled at his mother, the familiar pleasant look that made no promises. “I haven’t had the opportunity to ride for pleasure in some time, Mother. There are matters that must be attended to. Speaking of which, I should return to my duty.”

As one, the girls slumped.

Jane hurt for them. He’d cracked open the door, and they longed to push their way through but had no idea how. But she had a thought. As usual, it found its way out of her mouth.

“Perhaps you could spare us some time this afternoon,” she suggested. “We’ve exhausted our search for the unicorn near the castle. I understand your farm down the island has other steeds available.”

He quirked a brow. “Horses, yes, but unicorns…”

Jane jerked her head toward his daughters. “When it comes to unicorns, it’s the quest that counts.”

He looked to the girls. Could he see how they’d all perked up under his notice? The yearning on Larissa’s face cut Jane to the quick.

Abelona climbed off the sofa and hurried to his side. “Please, Father? You could find me a unicorn. I know you could. You can do anything.”

Calantha nodded.

He took a deep breath. “Not anything, Abelona. But if it matters so much to the three of you, I’d be delighted to join you on your search.”

Abelona gave a little skip as she returned to her seat.

“Thank you, Father,” Larissa said. Her nod was all polish, but Jane could see the glimmer of tears in her eyes.

“I’ll meet you in the courtyard at two,” he said. With a nod to the room in general, he turned and left.

Her Grace rose. “Go back to the schoolroom, girls. You should have time for a lesson or two before you change to go out. I’d like a word with Mrs. Kimball.”

Jane’s stomach tightened. Larissa gave her a sharp-edged smile, as if she knew Jane was about to receive an overdue lecture. Jane promised herself to be as pleasant as possible. The duke had won the battle for her. No sense losing the war over her pride.

“I do not approve of some of your behavior,” Her Grace began, eyes narrowing. “Nor do I appreciate the impertinence that so often comes from your mouth.”

“I am a sad trial,” Jane acknowledged.

“That I am beginning to believe. The girls will require discipline. Do you have what it takes to be stern with them?”

Jane kept her face respectful. “Absolutely. Daily beatings and bread and water until they improve on their studies.”

The duchess blinked. “No, no. You misunderstand me.”

Jane frowned. “Did I? Well, perhaps a regimen of studies and exercise, opportunities to use their God-given talents and imagination, and a great dollop of love and kindness will suffice.”

“Yes,” the duchess said, looking a bit as if she’d come through a windstorm. “I suspect they might.” She shook herself and raised her chin. “Let me be clear, Mrs. Kimball. I love my granddaughters, and I want the best for them, but I have high expectations of you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Jane said.

The duchess’s lips tightened, and she took a step closer. Jane had to force herself not to retreat. She’d thought she might have a moments’ reprieve before the next battle, but it seemed Her Grace had rallied her troops.

She pointed a finger at Jane’s chest. “You and I may never resolve our differences. But if you continue to advocate for my granddaughters, I will stand by you.”

Jane stood straighter. “Thank you, Your Grace. May I go?”

The duchess narrowed her eyes. “One thing more.”

Jane steeled herself. Would she spout more nonsense about deportment? Order Jane to dress more fashionably? Criticize her demeanor, her opinions?

The duchess’s gaze was firm and implacable. “If you can make my son smile like that more often, I will support anything you do.”

 

~~~

 

A quest for a unicorn. Alaric shook his head as he stepped out into the courtyard that afternoon. He had a dozen things that called for his attention—studying reports from his various agents on the state of his investments, inspecting the new chain for the lock, reviewing the local militia, sending suggestions of different wording for the bill the prime minister had provided—and here he was, preparing to spend the afternoon on a fool’s errand.

All because a pair of speaking brown eyes had gazed in his direction.

Of course, he could not have ignored Abelona’s plea, the looks from her sisters. Who would have guessed they sincerely wished for his company? Their eagerness was motivation enough to join them. But he knew the true reason for his choice had been the importunate look from Mrs. Kimball. Why did life seem sweeter when she smiled?

She was all business now. With the girls bundled in their matching blue coats, she helped them up into the waiting carriage—one of his smaller vehicles—then climbed in beside them. He joined them last. Mrs. Kimball sat facing forward, with Calantha on one side and Abelona on the other, leaving him to sit backwards with Larissa. It was a gentleman’s duty to give the lady the better seat, but Larissa did not look amused by the arrangement.

“I should be sitting there,” she declared, pointing at her governess’s spot.

Mrs. Kimball shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She rose, and Larissa slipped across the space, nose raised in triumph.

Mrs. Kimball settled next to him. “You don’t mind, do you, Your Grace?”

He should probably point out that Larissa owed her older governess respect. He should also be an example of putting service before preferences. But as the carriage started out and Mrs. Kimball bumped against him, he merely smiled. “Not in the slightest.”

They rode out the gate onto the lane that led down from the castle to the island. The largest piece of property in the river for miles, the island was bisected by a single road north and south, crossed by a lane leading east and west. The farm that supplied the castle and held the other horses stood in the center. Fields lay fallow in all directions, dotted by copses of trees still dark with winter. Here and there a stone cottage jutted up. Most of his tenants were nestled inside, but the few who had ventured out in the cold raised hands in greeting as the coach passed. So much potential, so many lives, all in danger unless the lock worked.

He’d pinned his hopes on the structure after reading about how the Thames Navigation Commission had installed locks and weirs upstream and down from his lands. Those structures were used to keep river traffic moving expeditiously, but they’d had the added benefit of slowing the progress of the river in places. Working with an engineer his friend Julian had located, Alaric had developed a scheme to turn the side stream that ran below the castle into an overflow for the spring floods. It had been a bold notion, requiring his tenants to take time off during the busy summer months to dig out the channel, line it with stone to form a canal. While they harvested crops, he’d overseen the building of the lock gates, created from timbers massive enough to hold back the mighty Thames. They were so close to finishing. He was merely glad January had been more cold than wet. Who knew what February would bring?

“Just think, girls,” Mrs. Kimball said beside him, “the next time you come this way, you could be riding.”

Calantha nodded, but Larissa raised her chin. “We have had some lessons, you know. I’m sure I’ll do quite well in the saddle.”

“Very likely,” he agreed with a smile.

“I’ll ride well too, Father,” Abelona predicted, “as soon as I have my unicorn.”

“I know you will, Abelona,” he assured her.

“Was their mother a good rider?” Mrs. Kimball asked.

Not in the slightest, but he didn’t want to give Larissa a reason for refusing in future. “She wasn’t fond of horses.”

He turned his head to meet the governess’s gaze. For a moment, it was as if she saw inside him, his loneliness, his loss. Then she looked away, and he almost spoke her name aloud.

Jane. Would she let him call her that? Impertinent to ask. Impossible to ask with three little girls watching.

“A shame.” She turned her gaze to the window, as if seeing something more than the winter-frosted land. “There’s nothing quite like being on horseback—the power beneath you, the freedom before you.”

He knew the feeling. Even now, he could imagine giving his horse, Decatur, his head and flying over the fields until they reached the grey rolling waters of the Thames beyond. Instead, he sat in a coach as his daughters chatted, the sound surprisingly sweet.

They reached the farm easily and climbed out of the carriage in the stable yard. Two stable blocks stood at right angles, each block holding work, carriage, and riding horses. Another building housed carriages, from the big landau built for travel to the tiny gig Evangeline had used to tool around the island.

Alaric led the girls and Jane into the nearest block, where stalls ranged on either side of a center aisle. The air was thick with the scent of damp straw and rich earth. He did not spot his master of horse, Mr. Quayle, but one of the more seasoned grooms showed them around. He kept glancing at Alaric as if expecting a reprimand. Alaric had no cause. The place was well run, and the horses were fine beasts—he wouldn’t have had them in his stables otherwise. Unfortunately, none seemed the right size or disposition for a little girl and her first horse.

“And not a unicorn among them,” Jane said with a sad smile to Abelona.

His youngest daughter sighed.

“There’s a nice brown one,” Calantha offered. “It has pretty eyes.”

“She certainly does,” Alaric said, glancing at the sturdy farm horse. “But she might be a little large for your sister.”

Jane was gazing down the aisle. The stalls on the left generally held work horses, mighty things that would be turned out to plow the fields come spring. The stalls on the right held riding horses, some not yet properly trained.

“Interesting,” Jane murmured. “Excuse me a moment, girls.”

Alaric frowned, but she was heading toward the end of the aisle, where a white horse stood in its stall, head bowed. A recent acquisition, if memory served, and one he hadn’t been too sure of when Mr. Quayle had recommended it. The horse was big enough to work the farm, but she disliked being put into harness. Mr. Quayle was working with her.

“What’s Mrs. Kimball doing?” Abelona wanted to know.

Alaric wasn’t sure how to answer. At Jane’s nod, a groom led the horse out by its halter, and Jane walked around it. By the way her lips moved, she was talking to herself.

Or to the horse.

Larissa tugged on his arm. “You see, Father? She does the silliest things. I don’t want her for a governess.”

Now Jane was stroking the horse’s long mane, which had yet to be cut to the appropriate length for its duties. For a moment, he felt as if her fingers were sliding through his own hair, and he shifted on his feet to chase away the sensation.

Suddenly, she spit on her gloves and rubbed them in the forelock. Calantha made a face. Larissa gagged.

Jane took the lead and turned the horse to face them.

At his side, Abelona caught her breath. “Look, Father! Look! Mrs. Kimball made a unicorn!”

So she had. The horse’s forelock stuck out from its head like a horn as she led the beast toward his daughter.

“What do you think, Lady Abelona?” Jane asked.

Abelona was hopping from foot to foot, and he thought she might attempt to scramble up the horse’s legs. Instead, she threw her arms around Jane’s skirts. “Oh, thank you, Mrs. Kimball. I love you!”

Jane’s brows shot up. Something tugged at Alaric’s chest.

Calantha nodded. “Me too. I don’t care if you do silly things and smell like dead flowers.”

He had a feeling Larissa had made that second comment as well, for she was turning red.

“It’s just an old horse,” Larissa said. “It’s not a unicorn.”

Abelona released Jane to glare at her sister. “It is! You’re just too old and mean to see it. Isn’t that right, Father?”

All gazes swung to his, and only Jane looked the least contrite about putting him in this position. He had meted out justice as a magistrate in his corner of Surrey, negotiated difficult settlements with other landowners, offered terms on behalf of His Majesty to warring nations. Somehow, none of that seemed as important as what he did now.

“Pierce,” he said to the groom, “saddle this beast. I want to see how a unicorn rides.”