Chapter 4

Unfortunately, Finch didn’t leave him alone for long. The following morning, she invaded the breakfast room whilst he was attempting to enjoy the lavish spread Cook had laid out in honor of his return from Cornwall. Mrs. Kellet, who’d been with his family for as long as Sunny could remember, enjoyed spoiling him with an abundance of his favorite foods.

“A word, Your Grace.” The harridan paused by the door, this morning wearing some pale green shade that was a welcome departure from the sullen gowns she seemed to prefer. “If you please.”

Suppressing a sigh, he popped a liver into his mouth. “What is it, Finch?”

“I was wondering if you and Lord Abel settled the matter of the children.”

He cut into a chop. “Unfortunately not. My uncle is quite insistent they remain in my care.”

Her face fell. “Oh.”

He reached for his ale. “Come now, Finch, no need to look as though someone has drowned your favorite puppy.”

“It is not the outcome I’d hoped for,” she said glumly.

“Nor I, I assure you.” He tossed some ale down his throat. “I will continue to search for an alternative solution. Until then, I’m afraid, we are stuck with one another.”

Dowding, who’d been standing at attention by the sideboard, shifted. An almost imperceptible movement, but Sunny noted it, and he knew it signaled the butler believed something was not as it should be. “What is it, Dowding?”

“Your Grace?”

“When you move about like that, you have something on your mind, what is it?”

The butler flushed. “Nothing to concern yourself with, Your Grace. However, I was wondering whether Miss Finch would care for some breakfast.”

Sunny cast a skeptical look at the nursemaid. Surely, she had no interest in breaking bread with him. And she was a servant. Well, a governess, but it was practically the same. Some governesses took meals with the family, but his certainly never had.

Not that his old governess had missed much. The fourth duke had been a cold, punctilious bastard given to ruling with iron composure. He’d placed duty, status, and public decorum above all else, and pounding those principles into his only son and heir had occupied much of his time. Not that the effort had done much good.

Sunny addressed the dowd. “Do you wish to partake?” he asked grudgingly, fully expecting her to decline and leave him in peace to enjoy his livers and chops. “Or,” he prompted, “have you already taken your morning meal?”

Her gaze dropped to his gilded porcelain plate. “Is that liver?”

“Indeed it is.” Hopefully she detested liver.

“I adore liver.” She smiled sweetly at Dowding. “Perhaps just a spoonful or two.”

Sunny did his best to hide his scowl as she glided over to the sideboard, removed the silver-domed lid, and spooned a large helping of his liver onto her plate. She strolled away from the food and took the seat at the opposite end of the mahogany breakfast table, as far away from Sunny as possible, which amused him.

Good, he thought, keep yourself and those brats well out of my way. Swallowing another large gulp of ale, he again wondered how in Hades he’d allowed himself to end up in this predicament.

The shrew forked a morsel of liver into her mouth. “Mmm, this is delicious,” she said once she’d finished chewing. “Mr. Dowding, please do extend my most sincere compliments to Mrs. Kellet.”

The butler beamed as if the queen herself had bestowed a knighthood on him. “Very good, Miss Finch,” he said with a respectful tip of his head. “I most certainly will. She’ll be very pleased to hear it.”

Sunny resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “You may leave us, Dowding,” he said sharply, unable to bear another moment of his butler fawning over the nursemaid.

The shrew smiled at Dowding. “Please inform Mrs. Kellet that I’ll be down to discuss the children’s meals once I’m finished here.”

“As you wish, Miss Finch,” the butler said before disappearing out of the room and closing the door gently behind him.

Sunny stared at Finch as she enthusiastically attacked the liver and chops on her plate, his mind rolling over the way she’d commanded Dowding and her apparent meetings with Mrs. Kellet. It was as if she were settling in and becoming comfortable here, putting her own stamp on things.

That would never do.

She continued to eat, the silence hanging over the breakfast room—except for the scrape of her silver utensils against the porcelain plate—did not appear to discomfit her in the least. His irritation grew until finally he cleared his throat.

She looked up from her plate askance. “Is there something further you wish to say, Your Grace?”

“Yes. Don’t get too comfortable here. You won’t be staying.”

She raised a snowy white linen napkin to her mouth and patted delicately. “You say Lord Abel won’t take us back, and he has found no one else who is suitable to act as the children’s guardian.”

He gritted his teeth. “That is true.”

She set her napkin down and rose. “The children need stability. As there seems to be no suitable alternative arrangement, we all must adjust to the situation.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask what you mean by that.”

“I have given this a great deal of thought,” she said, her voice firm. “This is the girls’ home now. As their ducal guardian, you will be able to ensure their rightful status in society.”

Her newfound sanguinity about their current, very unsatisfactory, living arrangements took him aback. “I see you’ve given this a great deal of thought.”

“I have,” she said crisply. “I am most determined to make the best of things for the girls.”

“Are you now?” The liver he’d consumed felt sour in his stomach.

“Yes. Although our current situation is far from ideal, even I can see you possess the resources to provide the sort of education and social polish the great-granddaughters of a duke deserve.”

“You are aware of my reputation, are you not? Sinful Sunny is not a person who should be entrusted with the raising of two respectable, well-bred young ladies.”

“Nonetheless, I’ve been reassured you are a man of honor who will live up to his obligations.”

“Who the devil told you that?” he spat out. “Uncle Abel? He’s very wrong. He has no notion of the person I am now. All he remembers is the green little boy I used to be.” An earnest, morally correct boy who’d been determined to follow his father’s faultless example. Until the day in his eighteenth year when he’d witnessed for himself that his father’s behavior was far from faultless.

“Your uncle has placed his faith in you, and I know Lord Abel to be a discerning man.”

Intent on wiping the complacent expression off the nanny’s unremarkable visage, he said, “You’ve seen my playroom. I entertain there nightly. Often with more than one woman at a time.”

To his satisfaction, a sudden shot of color added life to her pallid cheeks. “That was before the children came into your care,” she said carefully. “You have new responsibilities now, to see to the girls’ gentle upbringing. And when the time comes, you’ll see to it that they have a Come-Out and dowry worthy of their station.”

“Good lord,” he burst out, unable to contain himself. “You expect to remain here—you and those little monsters—until they marry?” That was years from now. His youth, and all of the revels that came with it, would be well and truly shot by then.

“But of course,” she replied mildly. “You are their guardian, after all.” She gave a quick curtsy. “If you will excuse me, Your Grace, I’ll go and speak with Mrs. Kellet about today’s meals for the nursery.”

As he watched her go, realization settled over him. The harpy intended to take him in hand in the same manner in which she managed her charges. She thought to settle in, order his staff about, and rearrange matters at Sunderford House to her liking.

His gaze dropped to his plate, where the uneaten liver and chops began to look appetizing again. He stabbed a liver with his fork and popped it into his mouth, chewing slowly, savoring the strong, gamey taste.

It would not do for the nanny to become too comfortable at Sunderford House. She must learn that he was master here and not some green boy who needed to be brought to heel. He sat back in his chair, a huge grin opening up across his face.

And he knew just how to teach her that lesson.

---

“Good night, my loves.” Isabel gently closed the door to the nursery behind her. Prudie and Patience were bathed and settled into bed for the evening. She paused outside their door to stretch her cramped neck muscles.

The last few days of settling into Sunderford House had taken a great deal of effort, but things were finally beginning to fall into place. It was well past time to reestablish a routine for the children. She wandered down the corridor into the old schoolroom where the children’s daily lessons would soon resume.

A large wooden table surrounded by ladder-backed chairs dominated the otherwise plain space. Massive windows at the far end of the chamber provided ample light and fresh air during the day. The space had been in dire need of cleaning and airing out when she’d first laid eyes on it. Fortunately, despite the duke being a useless degenerate, his staff was well trained and, at Isabel’s request, had efficiently dusted and polished the schoolroom.

Isabel had been sincere when she’d told the duke she intended to make the best of things. The children were her primary concern. They’d already lost so much in their young lives, their parents and two guardians, and she was determined to protect them from further deprivation. She must make Sunderford House a true home for them. She really had no other choice.

The duke might be a rake and reprobate, but he must possess at least a modicum of decency. For some unfathomable reason, his staff seemed particularly devoted to the man. One of the housemaids who’d come to clean the nursery earlier in the day had reassured Isabel that the duke never dallied with the servants, although—the girl had giggled through this part—more than a few of the maids were more than willing to give the duke a tumble.

“His Grace is still easy on the eyes, even if he’s not the sportsman he used to be,” the girl, Magda, had sighed. “You should have seen him before, when he was younger, he was the handsomest gent that ever was. I saw him without his shirt once, when he was fencing, and it was a sight to behold. I’ve never seen muscles like that before or since.”

If she were to be objective, Isabel understood exactly what Magda was saying. With his height, strong, proud features, silver eyes, and enviable bone structure, Sunderford had the makings of true beauty, but he’d apparently squandered his looks on women, drinking, and a decadent lifestyle.

Closing the door behind her, Isabel wandered down the corridor. She needed to speak to the duke about purchasing supplies for the schoolroom. She would see to buying them, of course, but he needed to approve the expenditure.

She had not seen His Grace all day. He was like a vampire—sleeping all day and only coming out at night. He’d left the house the past two evenings. Good, she thought with hopeful satisfaction, at least he knew enough to take his scandalous behavior out of this house and away from the girls. She didn’t care where he went or what he did—his depraved private affairs were none of her concern—as long as he kept his debauched goings-on far from the girls.

But this evening, she noted, he’d not yet gone out. She hurried down the stairs from the third floor, eager to catch him before he left for the night. She found the earnest-looking young footman named John on duty near the second-floor landing.

“Good evening,” she said. “Have you seen His Grace?”

“He is in his…erm”—the footman’s sizable ears turned bright red—“playroom.”

“Please do not be discomfited,” she reassured the young man. “I do know that particular chamber exists.” She started in that direction; in the two days since the duke’s return from Cornwall, she’d noticed that he spent hours alone in the repugnant chamber. As she approached the room, however, it became obvious that the duke had company.

Laughter and a tinkle of conversation emanated from the playroom. Several voices, not just one or two. She frowned, dread trickling down her back. There was no doubt he was entertaining, but surely not…

When she reached the door, it opened and the duke’s head poked out into the hallway. “More champagne, John,” he called to the footman.

“Very good, Your Grace,” John answered and hurried down the stairs.

The vile man was about to withdraw back within when he spotted Isabel. “Ah, Finch.” His eyes lit up. “Looking for me?”

“Yes.” Distaste rolled in her stomach. “But it can wait as you are obviously otherwise occupied.”

“Perhaps you’d care to join us?” He wore a loosely belted red silk banyan that exposed a broad chest dusted with dark hair. He opened the door wider, allowing her a clear view into the room.

Against her better judgment, Isabel looked past the duke for a glimpse into his depraved world. At first glance, the guests appeared perfectly respectable. Some were playing billiards while others were lounging on the couches. But then one man turned his back to her, and Isabel’s eyes widened.

The man, young and well-built, wore trousers so tight they might as well have been painted on, but that was the least scandalous part of his attire. When he turned, two large holes in the seat of the trousers became apparent, each one exposing a white, round naked buttock.

The duke’s mouth was suddenly close to her ear. “Only, if you join us, as you can see, you cannot attend dressed as you are.”

Shocked, her gaze jumped to one of the ladies reclining on a couch. The woman wore a respectable gown that was obviously expensive, except that most of her plump fleshy breasts were completely exposed.

The duke’s warm, moist breath was in her ear again. “Each guest is required to bare the part of his or her anatomy they deem to be the most interesting.”

She was too stunned to move. The scene before her bombarded all of her senses. Everyone in attendance was indeed exhibiting some part of his or her body. Some men were entirely shirtless, one woman’s dress was indecently short, exposing long, smooth legs; another wore a gown with the waist cut out, baring her navel and pale, flat stomach. Another was in a gown that exposed the satiny curves of both of her shoulders. But what shook Isabel from her stupor was the man playing billiards, who had a hole directly…

“That’s Stenton.” The duke’s amused voice drifted over her. “As you can see, he’s quite the braggart. Very proud of his endowments, he is.”

Revolted, she spun away, pain shooting through her shoulder when she slammed into the doorframe as she stumbled into the corridor. “You are despicable,” she sputtered at him.

The pervert’s brows lifted in mock innocence. “You said we should make the best of our situation.” He flourished a wave in the direction of the debauchery behind him. “And so I am.”

Profound distaste rippled through her. She’d never known a man more repulsive than the one standing before her.

“Are you certain you won’t join us?” He smiled wide and wicked, his glittering gaze perusing her form. “I cannot wait to learn which body part you find most interesting.”

“You’ve certainly exposed yourself,” she said coldly, summoning her flayed composure.

He peered down at his loosely belted banyan, which bared quite a bit of skin, but stopped just short of complete indecency. “Surely, my dear Miss Finch, you cannot argue that I am possibly the most respectably dressed person here.”

“Yes,” she retorted, “but you have exposed something far more incriminating.”

His dark brows lifted. “Is that so?” Amusement laced his words. “And what is that?”

“Your true vile nature.” She turned away, shoulders back, forcing herself not to rush as she took her leave of him. He no doubt wanted her to scurry away like a frightened little mouse. She would not give him the satisfaction.

To Isabel’s surprise, he allowed her to have the last word, except for the deep chuckle that trailed after her as she made her way down the corridor.

---

Sunny strode from the mews to Sunderford House after his hack in the park, tugging off his gloves as he walked. He pulled open the garden gate and stepped past the stone wall, entertaining thoughts of a quick bath before joining friends for dinner at the club, followed by what he anticipated would be a long and lively evening with a buxom actress who willingly gave private performances while stripped to the skin.

The nanny and her two imps had upended his life, but it was high time he returned to his usual activities. Last evening’s social gathering had been an excellent start. He smiled to himself, remembering the nanny’s outrage.

And yet hosting one of his bacchanals with the termagant and two brats just one floor above all of that delicious depravity hadn’t felt quite right. He’d actually experienced a twinge of conscience. Damn it all to hell. The nanny had him feeling guilty about doing as he pleased in his own home. Well, he had no intention of abandoning his wicked ways. No indeed. But perhaps, for now at least, he should carry on his carousing outside of these four walls.

“Look at me!” an annoyingly familiar high-pitched voice chirped from the far side of the garden. “Watch what I can do.”

He spotted the little nuisance atop the stone garden wall with her arms spread wide open to balance herself as she edged along the narrow ridge. “What the devil are you doing?”

“I am walking the entire length of the wall without falling,” she declared with a bright smile on her cherubic little face.

“Well, bully for you,” he said as he walked past her, determined not to break his stride.

“I’ll wager you can’t do it,” she called after him.

He halted and doubled back to her. “Please. This is child’s play. I can walk any wall.”

“So can I,” she shot back. “Only I can do it in skirts. Can you?”

That prompted a huff of amusement from him. “I cannot say that I have tried.” He ran an eye over her loose, orange printed gown with frilled edges and matching bloomers. “A duke does not wear skirts.”

“Hmmm,” she murmured impertinently, her little nose firmly in the air. “Do you want to see what else I can do?”

“No, not particularly.”

“Watch!” she ordered, paying no heed to his answer. She extended her arms high in the air before wheeling them down onto the wall, supporting her body as she went into a handstand and cartwheeled only to land on her feet again. Well, she didn’t exactly land, because her feet wobbled as they touched the ridge, and she teetered—

Sunny leapt forward to catch the brat as she tumbled off the wall. “It seems to me,” he said when she landed safely in his arms with a light thud, “that this particular acrobatic feat requires more practice on your part.” She felt very small and fragile in his arms and barely weighed anything at all.

“That was the best I’ve ever done it!” A bright smile lit up the child’s face. He surmised this urchin was Patience because she was the one who was always tumbling about. “Once I practice it a few more times, it’ll be perfect.”

“You will do no such thing!” a female voice raged from behind them. Still holding Patience in his arms, Sunny turned to find the apoplectic nursemaid charging out of Sunderford House heading straight for them.

“It looks like you’ve done it now,” he murmured to the child. “Will Finch send you to bed without supper?”

Patience giggled. “I think she’s angry at you, not me,” she whispered, and for a moment he felt a sense of kinship with the imp.

“Angry at me?” he asked incredulously. “Whatever for?”

“What is the matter with you?” the nanny berated him as she came to a halt, her hands fisted on her hips like a fishwife taking her husband to task.

“With me?” He set the child back atop the stone wall in a sitting position. “What did I do?”

Her eyes widened. “What are you doing? Get her off the wall!”

“As you wish.” He shrugged and exchanged a puzzled look with the child before swinging her off the wall and onto her feet on the ground. He straightened and addressed the nanny. “Happy now?”

“How could you let her tumble around on the wall?” she demanded, gesturing toward the stone barrier, which came up to her shoulder. “Had Patience fallen, she could have seriously injured herself.”

“Do not be so overzealous,” he admonished her. “Had Patience fallen, she’d have bumped her head or scraped a knee; it seems to me that would have taught her not to be so reckless.”

“You don’t understand the child. She has no fear.”

“Quite right. I do not understand her, nor is it my place to. It is yours.” He decided it might be amusing to put Finch on the defensive. “I am not her minder. You are. I presume that is what I pay you for, is it not? To mind the children?”

“You were right here when she wheeled herself on the ledge.” She was indignant, giving no quarter, but Sunny sensed a tinge of guilt in her words. “You should have stopped her.”

“I should have stopped her?” He suppressed a smile, quite enjoying himself now. “It’s a fortunate thing that I was here to catch the child, considering that you were being derelict in your duties.”

“Children are children.” She flushed, the added color again enlivening her unexceptional face. “I cannot watch them every moment of the day. You are the child’s guardian. It is also your responsibility to see to her safety and well-being.”

“Which I did,” he said neatly. “I caught the child, did I not?”

She exhaled loudly through her nostrils. “You should have ordered her down the moment you found her on the wall.”

“I am the Duke of Sunderford, the master of this house and your master, too, I might add.” Toying with Finch was really quite entertaining. “I take orders from no one, least of all a nursemaid who cannot be trusted to watch her charges.”

Deciding that was an excellent line upon which to exit this scene, Sunny pivoted on his heels and strode loftily into the house. The puff of outrage that erupted behind him made Sunny chuckle.

And once he was in the house and well away from Finch, he laughed out loud.