Chapter 6
“Look, Izzy,” Prudie called out excitedly as she soared into the air on the swing, “Cousin Adam is pushing me way up high!”
Isabel couldn’t believe what she was seeing. The children were at play in the wastrel’s den of iniquity while the man himself pushed Prudie on the swing, a contraption where any number of depraved acts had likely taken place.
She struggled to contain her fury. Any outburst or harsh word from her would upset Prudie. The girl had a sensitive nature. Besides, all of Isabel’s considerable ire was not directed at either child; it was reserved for one very infuriating duke.
He was casually dressed, in shirtsleeves and an open collar with no cravat to shield the strong lines of his throat. He wore some sort of dark, loose-fitting pants, and his russet hair was damp, as if he’d just bathed. It was a state of dishabille in which no gentleman would allow himself to be viewed by a lady. But she was no lady, not in his eyes. He knew nothing of her past and hadn’t asked.
“How could you allow Prudence, an innocent child, onto that filthy swing?” she asked him in as controlled a tone as she could muster.
“The swing doesn’t look dirty to me,” Prudie said.
“Do relax, Finch.” The half smile on his aristocratic face could best be described as smug. “I had the swing replaced just yesterday. It needed new ropes and a new seat.”
She wondered if that was true. She’d ask John later. At the moment she had a more dire matter to worry about. She took a breath and turned her attention to Patience, perching on the edge of the billiards table. “Patience, come down from there at once.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The girl catapulted herself high into the air and did a half somersault.
Isabel’s heart dropped to her stomach when the child came down hard on her feet, stumbling a few steps before losing her balance altogether and tumbling to the floor. But she bounced right back up on her feet and turned to Sunderford. “Did you see, Duke, did you see? I did it.”
“I did indeed.” The man still stood behind the swing, pushing Prudie to and fro. “But that was only half a somersault, not an entire revolution.”
“I can do it.” She appeared ready to scramble back onto the table to prove the truth of her words. “I know I can. I’ll try again.”
“You will do no such thing,” Isabel said sharply. She remained in a constant state of disquietude where Patience’s fearlessness was concerned. Isabel had once been that way too, until catastrophe had upended her life and left her reeling. Patience must learn to have a care. If Isabel neglected to teach her as much, life and society certainly would in a far more devastating manner. “I said you were not allowed to tumble. I’m afraid you must be punished for disobeying me.”
“But Duke said I could,” the girl protested.
“Be that as it may, you disobeyed my rules.”
“Apparently, you misheard the child.” Sunderford’s precise diction dripped with condescension. “The child just informed you that I gave her permission.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “You did what?”
“I told her she could practice her tumbling in here. She enjoys watching herself in the mirror.”
Isabel forced a deep breath. She’d never been able to hold her temper, a fault that had landed her in trouble more than once. “Perhaps you weren’t aware that Patience is punished after what occurred outside on the garden wall.”
“I’m aware. The urchin informed me.”
She gaped at him. “And you let her do it anyway?”
“I did.”
“As you know nothing about children,” she said coldly, “perhaps you should leave the disciplining of them to me.”
“No, I think not.” The duke left Prudie on the swing and came over to her. “I am the guardian of these children. You, on the other hand, are merely the hired help here at my forbearance, to serve at my pleasure.”
She inhaled her shock at the unmistakable warning. If he chose to, this scoundrel could upset everything in the girls’ lives. “Forgive me, Your Grace.” She forced a calmness she did not feel. “It’s just that your sudden interest in the girls has taken me quite by surprise.”
“You are the one who said we all need to adjust to our new circumstances. I am doing so. Perhaps you should as well.”
Tension hung over the room. The girls had gone very still. Wide-eyed, they took in Isabel’s exchange with the duke. Even Pan sat motionless with his tail perched in the air.
Isabel turned to them. “Please return to the nursery. I must speak with His Grace in private.”
The girls scurried for the exit with Pan darting out ahead of them. Isabel moved to shut the door after them because Patience was known to listen at the door on occasion. Adult conversations fascinated the child.
She turned back to the duke. “What are you doing?”
The deviant shrugged as if he wasn’t quite certain himself. “Asserting my position in the children’s lives?”
“By teaching them to be disobedient and unruly?” His cavalier attitude inflamed her. The Duke of Debauchery had no idea the damage he could do to the children. “You do them no favors by leading them to believe they can flout society’s rules.”
“I’m granting them time to be children.” His sharp tone took her aback. “I will not allow humorless dried-up old nursemaids who have no joy in their lives to ruin the girls’ lives by enforcing pointless rules designed to drain all of the joy and enthusiasm out of them.”
She stared at him. He’d never spoken so forcefully before. Up until now, Sunderford had been all languid sarcasm and childish indolence. Before this moment, he’d never struck her as a formidable man or a powerful force to be reckoned with. Fear snaked up her spine. He’d realized his power over her and intended to wield it.
“You know nothing at all.” Emotion suddenly closed her throat. “You’ll ruin their futures.”
He seemed to register her distress. “You are overreacting,” he said adamantly. “I was merely allowing them to be children, and I intend to see to it in the future that they are allowed time to play and explore.”
“How noble of you.” She huffed a humorless laugh. “Little girls grow up to be women. Do you know what happens to women who don’t follow the rules?”
“I have some notion.”
“I doubt that.” She abhorred how shaky her voice sounded. She hated betraying any weakness before this addle-pated scapegrace. “Society is very cruel to women who follow their own desires and refuse to be meek.”
He shook his head, his expression making clear just how completely he disregarded her views. “It’s quite obvious that your rank in life has made you bitter.”
“You don’t understand at all. You are a wealthy man, a duke in possession of a fortune.”
“And you are a governess. I’m aware. Do you have a point?”
“A man like you can afford to break all of the rules. Society will still adore you.”
“It’s not me they adore. It’s the title and the fortune. I harbor no illusions about the source of my allure.”
“Precisely. The ton’s most respected matrons will throw their marriageable daughters into your path in hopes you will make one of them your duchess. Your rank and wealth will always protect you.”
“Has it not occurred to you that I can use those same advantages to protect the brats?”
“There is only so much you can do. Society’s censure—and laws that give men every advantage while giving females none at all—holds more power than almost anyone or anything…even a duke.”
“It may have escaped your notice, Finch, but the girls are of a different class than you. They are the great-granddaughters of one duke and the wards of another.”
“As if that will save them from heartache.” She knew from her own circumstances that high connections did not guarantee shelter and safety with the ones you loved.
“Good God, Finch! You certainly have a grim outlook on life.”
“It is a realistic view, Your Grace.” One that was well earned, although she would never tell him as much. Her past, her history, was her own private hell.
His brows drew together. “Is this what you are teaching the children? That gloom and doom lurk around every corner? Because that will not do.”
Outrage seared her chest. How dare this derelict, do-nothing duke challenge her fitness to supervise the girls? “As the children’s governess, it is my duty to prepare them for society.”
“You remind me of my governess,” he said with obvious contempt. He clearly held no affection for the woman with whom he’d spent much of his childhood. “She was just as joyless and bitter. She made my childhood a misery.”
Something inside her snapped at this man-child’s gall and presumption. As if he knew anything about true privation. “Oh, I can just imagine how much of a hardship it must have been,” she retorted. “To be the ducal heir and to have dozens of servants and so many other inferiors ready to serve your every need and obey your every command.”
He stiffened. “You will mind your tongue and remember to whom it is you speak.” Anger blazed in his eyes, making them an even more vivid silver. “I am not only your superior but also your employer. You are here to obey my every command. Is that clear?”
She swallowed a desire to lash out at him, but something about this version of the Duke of Sunderford roused her survival instinct and put her on her guard. Instead of his usual state of drunken loutishness, this Sunderford seemed fully aware of the immense power and influence at his fingertips. It took every last bit of Isabel’s self-control to reply calmly and without emotion. “Very clear, Your Grace.”
“And just to make certain that we understand each other, it is I, and not you, who am the girls’ flesh and blood, as well as their guardian. As such, I will decide what is appropriate for them. And that begins with their playing in here today. I will not have those children punished for it. Is that understood?”
“Yes.” She did not meet his gaze. “I understand perfectly.”
“Excellent. I hope you do because I do not tolerate insubordination.” He spoke to her as if she was the lowliest scullery maid. “You are dismissed.”
Sunny awoke the following morning to find that Smith, his valet, had been called away in the night.
“Gone?” Sunny asked, his voice creaky with sleep, when Dowding drew back the crimson bed hanging. “Where the devil did he go?”
“Mr. Smith’s mother has taken ill.” Dowding set down the tray containing Sunny’s ritual morning coffee and vinegar tonic on the bed beside his master. “He’s gone to see to her.”
He shot Dowding a grumpy look. “Don’t I compensate my valet well enough for him to hire someone to look after the old lady?”
“As I understand it, Mr. Smith is particularly fond of his mother. He prefers to personally see to her care.”
“It defies understanding.” Sunny arched his back and stretched his arms high, working out any sleep-induced stiffness. He couldn’t imagine anyone rushing to care for their mother when they could hire a capable person to do it.
In his own mother’s final days, Sunny had made certain the servants kept the dowager duchess comfortable while he’d maintained his customary weekly twenty-minute audiences with her. He’d certainly never rushed to her bedside. Nor would she have wanted him to.
She’d have viewed any unscheduled visits as indecorous because they might hint at an unseemly show of emotion. Mother had been a stickler for the proprieties right up until the end. Which suited Sunny just fine. And when he’d finally received word of her death, he’d made certain his mother had a funeral worthy of her station before quickly resuming his routine.
He reached for his coffee. “It’s deuced inconvenient for me to have to do without Smith.”
“John, the upper footman, will be filling in while Smith is away,” the butler said soothingly. “You are familiar with the young man, and he in turn is accustomed to your…erm…habits.”
Sunny grunted his ongoing displeasure at Smith’s absence as he sipped his coffee. At least the libation was hot and full of sugar, just as he liked it. Dowding held out the vinegar tonic. “Your Grace?”
Sunny was about to reach for his usual morning-after cure to relieve the headachy nausea he habitually experienced after a night of debauchery. But this morning, his head felt strangely clear. His mouth wasn’t particularly dry, and Dowding’s voice wasn’t grating like nails on a slate board.
He shook his head. “I’ll have no need of the vinegar today.” Seeing Dowding’s puzzled reaction, he added, “Take it away. I didn’t have anything to drink last night.” Well, he’d had a glass or two of brandy, but nothing like his usual indulgences. He’d ended up staying in after his bout with the nanny.
Dowding’s expression brightened. The man obviously still held out hope that Sunny could be reformed. “Very good, Your Grace.”
“Dowding,” Sunny said, his thoughts going back to the termagant, “what do you know about the nanny?”
“Miss Finch, Your Grace?”
“Unless we have another nursemaid.”
“No, Your Grace, we do not. Miss Finch has every appearance of being a gentlewoman.”
“Meaning what? That she isn’t common?”
“Certainly not. Like most governesses serving in the finest homes, Miss Finch is obviously highborn.”
“If she’s wellborn, what’s she doing here?”
“Most governesses of a certain stature have excellent bloodlines but have fallen on hard times,” Dowding explained patiently. “Perhaps the family lost its wealth, or the heir cast her out with no funds.”
“And this is common?” Sunny had never considered the lot of governesses before. “That highborn women must seek employment?”
“Indeed, Your Grace. That is why Miss Finch does not eat in the servants’ hall. She is above those in service below stairs.”
“Hmm.” Sunny thought about Finch’s lot in life as he drank more coffee. “But she is a servant.”
“Not precisely, Your Grace. She is not considered as such. Unlike servants, governesses are often invited to dine with the family and attend family amusements.”
“I see. Does that mean that we should invite Finch to my ball?” Sunny threw one respectable entertainment each season, as the Dukes of Sunderford had done for decades. It was the sole time of the year that society’s most exacting matrons and their virginal daughters crossed his threshold without fear of being sullied by Sunny’s decadence.
“It is as you wish, Your Grace. It would not be inappropriate to include Miss Finch at your annual rout, if you chose to do so.”
Sunny huffed a small laugh, mostly to himself. It might be amusing to require that Miss Finch enjoy herself, as much as she seemed to detest any and all forms of entertainment. She wouldn’t want to attend, but what was the point in being a duke if you couldn’t occasionally order someone to do something they’d rather not.
He swallowed the last of his coffee. “Please inform Finch that I’d like to see her in my…” He paused. It wasn’t precisely appropriate to invite the harridan to his playroom, although that could prove amusing. “Send the nanny to my study in an hour’s time. And inform Finch that I expect her to present her credentials at that time.”
Isabel paused on her way to the study, taking a moment to try to calm her nerves. She checked her pocket again to reassure herself that her letter of recommendation remained in place. Sunderford’s request for her credentials had unnerved her. What did he really want?
There was only one way to find out. Taking a deep breath, resolving to maintain a calm demeanor, she approached the study to find the door to the chamber slightly ajar.
The duke’s voice reached her. “Just take it. I consider it money well spent.”
“It’s too much, Adam,” the throaty voice of a woman responded.
“I’ve got plenty.” His tone was dismissive. “You’ve a right to it. God knows, you’ve earned it.”
“If you’re certain.” Isabel peered in just as the woman caressed Sunderford’s cheek with a well-groomed hand. Blond and tall for a woman, she was well dressed and appeared gently bred. A shudder of disgust rippled through Isabel when the duke handed the woman what appeared to be a purse full of coins.
Had they just completed the act? Was this how degenerates such as Sunderford paid for services rendered? The idea of a man bedding a woman and handing her money directly afterward struck Isabel as extraordinarily base. She knew there were a number of peers who made a habit of the practice, but something about actually witnessing the transaction made her nauseous.
The duke’s gaze swept from the woman and landed on Isabel. “Finch,” he said when he spotted her. “Come in.”
“You are busy,” she said stiffly. “I’ll return later.”
“No need.” He showed no sign of discomfiture at having been discovered with one of his light skirts. “Anne was just leaving.”
“Yes, I was.” The woman favored Isabel with a kind smile as she turned to go. “You must be the new governess.”
Isabel struggled to maintain a polite expression. Sunderford discussed her and the girls with his doxies? “Yes. I am Miss Finch.”
“I am Anne. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“Don’t just stand there, Finch,” Sunderford interrupted, waving her in. “Did you bring what I asked for?”
The woman gave Isabel a friendly nod as the two passed by each other, Isabel making her way to Sunderford’s desk while Anne saw herself out, closing the door quietly behind her.
The duke settled himself in a tall-backed red leather chair behind an enormous rosewood desk. She pulled the letter from her pocket and handed it to him in a calm, efficient manner that gave no outward indication of the cluster of nerves knotting in her stomach.
“These are your credentials?”
She nodded. He unfolded the letter at a leisurely pace, taking his time to read through it while she stood waiting with her heart thumping loudly in her ears. She surveyed his desk, which was bare except for an ornate ormolu clock that ticked loudly, filling the tense silence.
He finally looked up with those radiant silver eyes. “And who is Mr. Harvey Drummond?”
“My former employer. He is wed to the daughter of Viscount Denbury. Mr. Drummond himself is the third son of the Earl of Winchester.”
Sunderford grimaced. “Denbury and Winchester?”
“Yes, are you acquainted with them?”
“Marginally. Priggish sorts, those two. They don’t approve of my lifestyle.”
“I gather that few do,” she said tartly before remembering to sensor herself.
“Those two are as thick as thieves. So they married their children off to each other, did they? Probably a move to consolidate the considerable power they hold in the House of Lords.”
“I wouldn’t know about that, Your Grace. All I can tell you is that, in my observation, Mr. and Mrs. Drummond appear to be very fond of each other.”
His attention returned to the letter. “This recommendation says you were with the family for six years.”
“Yes, Your Grace. They have four children…all boys.”
“And why did you leave their employ?”
“I left when the youngest, James, turned eight and went to boarding school.”
“I see.” He set down her letter on the massive, gleaming desk. “And after that?”
“Lord Abel retained me to look after Patience and Prudence. I’ve been with them since they were two, more than five years now.”
“And prior to that?”
She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“What is your background, Miss Finch?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I am your employer. It is my right. Is your family from London?”
“No, Your Grace. They are from”—she tried to come up with the farthest place she could think of—“Plymouth.”
“The coast?” His brows rose. “You are very far from home.”
“I have no home there. My mother and father died when I was very young.”
“And what of a brother to look after you?”
“I have no brother, so I am left to look after myself.”
“Hmmm. Is your status as an orphan the reason you are determined that the girls see the world as a dark and joyless place?”
Her patience broke. “I am not trying to take the joy out of their lives. I’m attempting to keep the girls safe,” she snapped. The man was beyond infuriating. “Patience could have seriously injured herself had she fallen off the garden wall and hit her head. And I shudder to think of what could have happened to the child had she hit her head when she tumbled off the billiards table. She could have been rendered permanently insensible. And you just let her do it without thinking of the child’s safety.”
“What I think,” he retorted, “is that you don’t allow them to have any pleasure in their days because your life is devoid of it.”
“Not at all.” She forced the words out through gritted teeth. “If I am overly protective of the children it is because I know what it is to be left alone in the world. As their governess, I am the only constant the girls have had in their young lives. I try to do my best by them but, of course, there can be no replacement for a mother’s or father’s love.”
He made a skeptical noise in his throat. “I wouldn’t know anything about that.” He came to his feet. “Very well. You seem qualified to care for my wards.”
Relief rushed through her as she watched him move to the sideboard to pour himself a drink. “Will that be all, Your Grace?”
“No.” He turned to face her, drink in hand. “One more thing.”
“Yes, Your Grace?”
“I’m hosting a rout here in a sennight. I expect you to be in attendance.”
“Me?” Outrage sizzled in her veins. “I most certainly will not attend one of your depraved parties.”
“Calm yourself, Finch.” His eyes twinkled. “It’s not one of those parties. I host one respectable ball each year during the Season. Society’s most upstanding citizens will be in attendance.”
She regarded him suspiciously. Why did he want her to attend? “I cannot.”
“I insist,” he said in an amiable voice.
“I have nothing suitable to wear,” she shot back in an even more amiable tone.
“Then we’ll have to take you to the modiste, won’t we?”
“That’s not possible. I’m a governess and cannot afford such an extravagance.”
“Fortunately, I am a duke with rather too much money, so I will bear the expense.”
She stared at him. “That would not be appropriate. I cannot accept a gift from you.”
He made an amused sound. “I’m hardly courting you, Finch, and it’s not a gift. I’m your employer, and I want you to attend my ball. Since I am requiring your presence, it is incumbent upon me to see that you are properly attired.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because youe not being properly attired for my ball would reflect badly on me.”
“Are you bored? Is that what this is about? Have you decided to toy with your drab and boring governess for your amusement?”
He came closer. “I find you to be many things, Finch. Disagreeable? Yes. Infuriating? Certainly. Drab? I suppose, especially given those god-awful shrouds you encase yourself in. But boring?” He smiled. “You most certainly are not boring.”
The duke was near enough for his scent to reach her. He smelled clean, like soap—he must have bathed recently—mixed with a raw, masculine scent that appealed to her. Something inside Isabel’s belly quickened, prompting shock to ripple through her. She was not an innocent. She recognized sexual attraction for what it was. She stared at him in shock.
“Why do you look so surprised?” he asked. “I may be foxed most of the time, but I’m no fool.”
But she apparently was. Otherwise, how could she feel anything remotely physical for this dolt? Yet, here she was, feeling hot all over and supremely sensitive to his proximity.
She had to get away from him. “Very well,” she said tightly. She would have agreed to just about anything to escape him at the moment. “I will attend if you require it. May I go now?”
“Yes. You are excused.”
She did not meet his gaze. She worried what might happen if she did. Her heart thumping hard in her chest, she curtseyed and left him with all the grace she could muster when what she really wanted to do was scurry from the room like a frightened mouse.
“Oh, Finch,” he called after her. “One more thing. We’ll make certain you won’t be wearing brown or black or any of your other dull colors to my ball. Perhaps less morose colors will brighten your countenance.”