Strathmere's Bride (8 page)

“Water dries, sir. And dirt is washed off. Within moments,
voilà,
one is ‘good as new.’ But the heart, that is what matters, not so much the skin. If building castles in the dirt brings the children joy, what harm is there in it? Would you have them tied to their nursery, allowed out like animals to be exercised when their owner deems?”

“
Mademoiselle,
please do not insult me.”

“Then what philosophies do you, your grace, espouse?” She was becoming impassioned, her resolution to remain calm and unflustered giving way under the pressure of the emotions building inside her. “Do you believe children should be kept on a tight rein as your brother was, never allowed…”

She stopped when she saw his face, not understanding at first what she had said. When she realized, she pressed her hand over her mouth.

His tone was flat. “I believe that is all for today, Miss Chloe. You are relieved of your duties with the children until further notice.”

As intense as her regret was a moment ago, it faded quickly in the face of her righteous anger. “If you will dismiss me, do it now. It is what your mother has wished from the start. She tried to get Charles to do it, but Bethany wouldn’t allow it. Now she has your ear, and she will use it to get her way. I wonder if these are your thoughts at all, or merely her bidding.”

His eyes widened for a moment before he turned away sharply, presenting his profile. “That is all, Miss Chloe. I have dismissed you.”

“Then I am to leave?”

His head snapped around to her. “I did not mean for you to leave for good. Believe me, when I send you packing, you will know it.”

“Then you intend me to go! Why wait?”

He took a step toward her. It was almost threatening, and some insane instinct made her take a step forward, too, until they were only inches apart.

She had to tip her head up at him, but she met his glare head-on.

“You ought to tread very carefully here, Miss Chloe.”

“Why, sir? Why? To keep this precious job? Do you think I need it so much, or that I even
want
it? My father can well afford me to return home. Do not forget, your grace, that my bloodlines are blue enough that my first cousin was deemed worthy to be the Duchess of Strathmere. And I come from no line of paupers, I assure you. So, why should I take care when I wish for nothing more than for you to do the very thing that you want so desperately to do?” She bared her teeth in a flash of a smile. “We are both trapped,
non?
I wish to leave, but cannot. You wish to send me away, but you cannot do it. The children, your grace. We think of them and can do nothing of what we wish.”

His breath was fanning her cheek. He was panting a little, and his breath was warm, almost as real as a touch. It distracted her. As she watched him, his eyes moved over her face, losing their intensity, and something began to grow, to come alive in the air between them. Within moments, it filled her nerves with leaden tensions, but she had no name for the dense atmosphere that arose suddenly between them.

“How right you are,” he said, and there was a distant, whimsical quality to the words. “Trapped. The two of us, in our separate prisons. How aptly put.”

Insanity reigned, registering the absurd notion that there was raw pain behind that statement. It raged, making Chloe want to reach out her hands and touch His Perfectness, who sometimes let her see that he wasn’t so perfect, so all knowing, so heartless.

God, what was this feeling stealing her mind from
her? Her chest burned, her arms ached with the effort to keep them still and off the duke’s exalted person.

“Please leave me, Miss Chloe. I will be visiting the nursery for afternoon tea tomorrow. I will expect to see you there.”

“Then I am not relieved of my duties, your grace?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head once. “A rash statement. You saw through it immediately, did you not? No. I am not sending you away from the children. It would be detrimental to them to toy with separating them from you. And I have seen, firsthand, how irreplaceable you are. Much to my regret.”

He was referring to the night he had come to the nursery while she was quieting Rebeccah. Remembering how he had seen her in such a state of dishabille, she blushed and turned away.

“But do not mistake me, Miss Chloe. Push me too far, and I will do it. Not for the thrill of power, not for the need to prevail, not for spite. Understand that it will cause me great anguish, but I will not allow you to damage those girls with inappropriate behaviors.”

“I understand,” she said sincerely. “And I am sorry, your grace. I truly am.” The strange tension of earlier had dissipated, leaving her feeling empty. “I do not think what I did was wrong. However, I apologize for disobeying you. It shall not happen again.”

He didn’t say anything. The silence stretched on, and she felt awkward. Then, she remembered she had been dismissed some time ago. “Very well, then, good day.”

She turned toward the door, took a few steps, then stopped. “I am particularly sorry for the unforgivable thing I said regarding your brother. That was very wrong of me. I do not know why I did it, but it hurt you and I deeply regret that.”

She didn’t look at him; she didn’t dare. She waited a few heartbeats before continuing on her way, almost running up to her room before the tears fell.

Ridiculous to let the disastrous interview disturb her so. She never cried—at least almost never. She had cried when her mother died, and she cried when that terrible accident took the lives of Bethany and Charles. Grief was something she could understand. What she couldn’t fathom, as she threw herself on the counterpane once she reached her little room off the nursery, was why she was crying now.

H
e came to tea the next day, just as he promised he would.

It was a horribly awkward affair, filled with gaping silences and strained nerves as the two adults and two children poured tea, stirred in sugar and passed the scones, cucumber sandwiches and biscuits. Rebeccah was clearly afraid of the duke, watching him with wide eyes. She refused to eat or drink any of her sugared tea with generous quantities of cream stirred into it. Sarah, on the other hand, had no such qualms. She stuffed biscuits in her mouth with aplomb and grinned at her uncle, crumbs spattering all over the chair, the table, the floor and her chest. Chloe tried to swipe them away as inconspicuously as she could, but the duke caught her and she gave up, knowing she was not getting anything past his eagle eye.

She was still aching from yesterday. It was strange, the weak, helpless sensation that weighed on her heart. There was no hope of ever making the duke understand what she felt, and felt so strongly, was best for the children. And the truth was abysmally
clear. It was only a matter of time—assuredly not a very long time—until she would be asked to leave.

She tried to ignore the melancholy pulling at her insides as she nibbled with flagging enthusiasm on a strawberry tartlet while her tea cooled in the china cup.

“Miss Chloe,” Rebeccah whispered with a furtive glance at her uncle. Chloe was sympathetic to her awe. The duke did, indeed, look large and alien seated at their plain wooden table and chairs in the corner of the nursery.

“Hmm? Yes, Rebeccah?”

She looked as if she hardly dared give voice to her request. “May I have a cucumber sandwich, please?”

“
Certainement, ma petite.
Your grace, would you please pass the sandwiches?”

Jareth grabbed the platter and held it out to the child. She shrank back as if it were a plate of fire. Beside her, Sarah munched, oblivious to the swelling tensions.

“Take the plate from your uncle, Rebeccah,” Chloe said in a reassuring voice. When Rebeccah looked at her, her eyes filled with fright, Chloe nodded and prompted, “Go ahead. It is all right,
chérie.”

Her little hands trembled visibly as she held them out to receive the platter. To Chloe’s great relief, she set it down gently and placed several wedges of sandwich on her plate.

“Très bien,”
Chloe said.

Sarah looked at the duke and smiled, reaching a chubby hand toward the sandwiches. Smoothly,
Chloe picked up one and placed it in her grasp to keep her from rummaging among the neat pile.

Searching wildly for some—any—topic of conversation to relieve her growing anxiety that the children would do something unmannerly to anger the duke, Chloe struck on an inspiration. “Why do you not tell us of your adventures at sea, your grace? I was given to believe you were in the shipping business. You must have sailed the seas to all manner of exotic destinations.”

“I was in the shipping business, but I did not sail often.”

That was all he said. In the silence, he picked up his cup and sipped. His dark eyes seemed fastened to Sarah.

“But you did go to America, did you not?”

“Yes, once or twice.”

She wanted to take the teapot and tap him on the crown of his head for his meager effort. “I am certain the children would love to hear your tales of that fascinating country.”

“It is always busy, everyone is much too loud, uncouth, and it is dirty.”

Silence. He still stared at Sarah as she began searching on the floor for a lost piece of bread. Chloe quickly intervened. “No, no,
chérie,
here is a new one.”

Sarah was happy with the replacement. Rebeccah munched silently on her sandwiches, her eyes round and alert. Her prolonged quietness was disturbing.

“Your grace, did you ever meet any of the famed Red Indians while in the American country? I hear they dress in buckskin—whatever that is—and run about constantly, whooping loudly.”

“Buckskin is a leather made from deer hide,”‘ he explained, lifting his cup to his mouth. “They do whip themselves into a frenzy before battle by issuing eerie war cries, I have heard it said. I never met one myself.” His expression bespoke of no interest in the topic as he sampled a sugared lemon peel.

“Oh.”

It was no use trying to engage him in any sort of conversation that would involve the children and therefore allay their fears, at least Rebeccah’s fears. Oddly, Sarah was quite comfortable in the man’s company, though he did nothing but stare at her in a fashion that was so intense, it was almost rude.

She was about to surrender to silence when a tiny voice asked, “Did you ever see any pirates when you were at sea?”

Rebeccah had spoken. Chloe glanced anxiously at the duke, hoping against hope that he would not brush off this inquiry as he had the others, that he would understand how vital it was that he respond to the girl’s question with some measure of positivity.

She was sorely disappointed.

“There are no pirates, or at least very few these days. Do not believe in those ridiculous stories—”

“Surely, your grace, you have encountered a brigand or two in your travels,” Chloe said, trying to give him the hint.

Jareth shook his head and frowned. “I assure you, Miss Chloe, I have never had any such unfortunate altercations. However, had I the occasion to make one such fellow’s unfortunate acquaintance, I should not think I would deem it suitable entertainment for children’s stories.”

She could have killed him. Rebeccah stayed perfectly still in her chair, eyes downcast. Chloe wanted desperately to reach out a hand to the small shoulders so stiff with apprehension. “What a shame,
monsieur,
for the children would be so happy to hear such tales as those.”

His gaze drifted once again to his youngest niece as he took another sip of his tea.

Chloe resigned herself. It was an utterly disastrous afternoon.

Sarah wriggled off her chair and took up Old Samuel the bear, stuffing him into a toy perambulator and wheeling him about the nursery. The stiff silence of the remaining three at the table was punctuated with crashing and banging as Sarah worked busily.

“May I be excused?” Rebeccah said.

Chloe would have answered, forgetting it was the duke’s place, but she was saved that embarrassment by Jareth’s quick reply in the affirmative. The child nearly scurried away, grabbing a picture book and curlıng up in the window seat with her back to them.

He looked after her only a moment, then switched his attention to the younger, who was fussing importantly with her miniature pram.

“Why do you keep looking at her?” Chloe asked.

He blinked and lifted his eyes to hers for a moment before they wandered off, focusing on some faraway point beyond the window. Her question he obviously had chosen to ignore.

“Well,” Chloe declared, rising. “This was
très amusant.
Please make your visits more frequent. The children enjoyed it so. And I have rarely been treated to such delightful companionship.”

She immediately regretted her jest; it seemed
cruel, but she was frustrated with his insensitive abstraction.

He didn’t react to her sarcasm. He didn’t even seem to hear her. He appeared to be lost somewhere within himself.

Without word or comment, he stood, folding his napkin and placing it on his plate with as much care as they had been in the formal dining hall. “On Monday, Lord and Lady Rathford and their daughter, Lady Helena, are coming to dine. I would like to present the children to them. Please prepare my nieces for the meeting. If there are any expenses involved, see the housekeeper, Mrs.—Mrs.—”

“Hennicot.”

“Mrs. Hennicot, yes.”

“Very well, your grace.”

As soon as he was gone, Chloe went to sit by Rebeccah, avoiding several collisions with the manic perambulator driver on the way.

“What are you reading?” she asked the child gently.

A pause. Then, “King Arthur.”

“One of my favorites.” Chloe smiled gently. “I was speaking to the duke the other evening, and he was saying how well he liked King Arthur.”

Ah, a spark of interest. “He did?”

“Actually, I know a great secret about him.”

The spark surged into a tentative flame. “I can keep a secret!”

“I believe the duke is shy, and that is why he did not talk much to you today. He has no more idea what to say to you than you do to him.”

She was clearly disappointed. “Was that the secret?”

“No,
ma petite amour.
He is shy,
c’est sûr,
but he is not so when you are talking about the stars. You know, the night lights that wink and twinkle in the sky.”

“Why?” she asked, quite skeptical.

“It is his hidden passion—to watch the stars. That is the secret. Not many know of it. I am trusting you with the secret, but you must be worthy.”

“Oh,” Rebeccah said with a wise nod. “I will be.”

Chloe laughed a little. “So, what I was thinking was that if perhaps you and I work very hard to learn some of the constellations in the sky, the next time your uncle comes to tea, we would have something we could talk about and it would be a more pleasant time.”

“Oh! Do you think it will work to please him? A very fine idea, Miss Chloe,” Rebeccah declared with as much arrogance as would make her grandmother proud. “Let us begin right away.”

Chloe ruffled her hair. “So you have decided to like this uncle?”

Rebeccah shrugged. “He is strange, but maybe he could be nice. If
Grand-mère
does not make him grumpy.”

As Chloe perused the shelves for a book to help her teach the constellations, she thought that the child had spoken a profound truth in that last statement, indeed.

“I have invited your cousin Gerald to come for a visit,” the dowager duchess said over deviled lamb’s kidneys the following morning.

Jareth replied, “Did you? That should be delightful.”

“Yes, I am quite fond of the rascal. It shall be good to see him.”

“Indeed.”

“He said in his letter he should arrive within the week.”

“I hope you have his old room prepared for him.”

“Mrs. Hennicot will see to it, of course.”

Jareth rose and came to brush a kiss against her cool, papery cheek. “I am looking forward to Gerald coming.”

“Yes, he was always a good friend to you boys.”

They both stopped. Jareth swallowed, even this offhand reference to his brother putting a painful lump in his throat. “He was at that,” he replied gamely, and exited into the hall, thinking to head straight for the library, then reconsidering.

He felt restless. Perhaps a ride would be the thing. Pulling aside a footman, he sent him to the stables to tell a groom to saddle his gelding, then headed upstairs to change out of his morning coat and into his riding breeches.

When he was ready, the horse was waiting for him in the semicircular driveway in the front of the house. He mounted and kicked the beast into action, taking off at a breakneck speed across the front lawn and heading directly toward the woods.

He slowed, giving the horse his head as they entered the tangled paths of the copse. The sounds of summer were gone. A growing chill brought a leaden silence to this part of the country. He opened his cravat and let the cool air twine into the collar of his
shirt. He shivered when it touched his sweatdrenched back.

In front of him, a deer appeared. A doe, a young one.

He stopped, staring. The doe seemed to stare back. Stock-still, they faced off. Then she looked away, apparently unconcerned at his presence. The touch of the brisk wind traced cold fingers along his flesh, and he was filled with a trembling awe.

“Hello, girl,” he said. His voice did not frighten her. Her nose quivered in the air, then her head dipped down to nuzzle the brown grass.

“You aren’t afraid of me, but you aren’t curious about me, either.”

She ate for a while, lifted her head and took a few steps to a new patch, then nibbled some more.

Jareth relaxed. He had played in these woods as a boy, ridden in them when on holiday from school as a youth, but he had never known a deer to be so casually accepting of human company.

Sliding off the horse, he flung the reins over a sapling and sat down on a rock, pulling his knee up under one arm.

The quiet and the doe worked their magical spell on him.

“Do you want to know something?” he said at last.

The doe didn’t stop her meal. She didn’t react at all to his question. He answered anyway. “I am a fraud.”

Her head came up, ears cocked forward, listening. It took only a moment for her to leap three times, then she was gone. He heard the fading sounds of her passage in the woods before all was silent again.

He let out a great sigh and came to his feet, grabbing the gelding and swinging into the saddle.

What do you know?
he thought as he wove his way through the dying bracken,
She doesn’t like frauds.

Chloe was cutting paper dolls for the girls when Jareth came again to the nursery. He stood inside the door, appearing tall and out of place in the room full of miniatures. As soon as Chloe saw him, she stood, the trimmings from her project falling like a colorful rain onto the carpet.

“Please continue with what you were doing,” he said, entering. His hands he had clasped behind his back, like a general perusing his troops.

Chloe’s mind raced. What had she done lately that would merit a visit? Could she think of any transgression, however minor, that would explain his presence here? Nothing came to mind, but that didn’t comfort her.

She sat down, deliberately feigning a casual attitude for Rebeccah’s benefit. The little girl’s body had gone stiff the moment the duke’s presence was noticed. Chloe began to cut again. “Perhaps we shall fashion her a ball gown?”

Rebeccah didn’t reply. Chloe began to cut.

“What exactly is that?” the duke asked.

Chloe nodded to Rebeccah.
“Chérie,
show your uncle the paper dolls we have made.”

The child obeyed, but appeared as if she were offering a sacrifice before a fickle god. He took up the proffered piece, considering it with a frown of thoughtfulness creasing his brow as he sank into a nearby chair.