The Duke's Cinderella Bride (6 page)

‘Janette was spoilt and wilful,’ Jane’s nemesis continued coldly. ‘She had the ability to twist any man around her little finger in order to persuade him into doing her bidding. But she made a terrible mistake in judgement in her choice of lover,’ Lady Sulby sneered. ‘A mistake immediately brought home to her when he did not hesitate to dismiss her from his life when she told him of the child she was expecting. You, Jane.’

‘You are lying!’ Jane repeated forcefully. ‘I have no idea why, not what Janette was to you, but I do know that you are lying!’

‘Am I?’ Lady Sulby eyed her derisively even as she reached out a hand to her desk and plucked up one of the
sheets of paper lying there. ‘Perhaps you should read this, Jane?’ She held up the page temptingly. ‘Then you will see exactly who and what your mother really was!’

‘What is that?’ Jane eyed the letter warily. Who could be writing to Lady Sulby now, twenty-two years after Janette’s death?

‘A letter written twenty-three years ago by Janette to her lover. Never sent, of course. How could she send it when her lover was already married?’ Lady Sulby sniffed disgustedly.

‘How do you come to have her letter?’ Jane shook her head dazedly.

Lady Sulby gave a taunting laugh. ‘Think back to twelve years ago, Jane. Surely you remember that I came with Sulby when he came to collect you after Joseph Smith died…? Of course you remember,’ she scorned, as Jane flinched at the memory. ‘Just as I remember going through Janette’s things and finding letters she had written to her lover but never sent. Vile, disgusting letters—’

‘There was more than one letter?’ Jane felt numb, disorientated.

‘There are four of them.’ Lady Sulby snorted. ‘And in each one Janette talks to her lover of the child they have created together in sin—’

‘Give that to me!’ Jane snapped warningly, snatching the letter from Lady Sulby’s pudgy hand to hold it fiercely against her breast. ‘You had no right to read my mother’s letters. No right! Where are the others?’ She moved to the desk, sifting agitatedly through the papers there, easily finding the other three letters written in the same hand as the one she already held. Letters which
Lady Sulby had obviously been reading when Jane came into the room. ‘Does Sir Barnaby know about these letters…?’

‘Of course he does not.’ Lady Sulby sniffed scornfully. ‘I have kept them hidden from him these last twelve years. Why do you think I was so concerned when I saw you with my jewellery box yesterday?’

Because the letters had been hidden there!

‘How dare you?’ Jane turned fiercely on the other woman, cheeks flushed, her eyes glittering deeply green. ‘You are not fit to even touch my mother’s things, let alone read her private letters!’

Lady Sulby recoiled from that fiery anger, her hand held protectively against her swelling breasts. ‘Stay away from me, you wicked, wicked girl.’

‘I have no intention of coming anywhere near you.’ Jane faced the older woman unflinchingly. ‘I would not want to soil my hands by so much as touching you. I have tried so hard to like you but never could. Only Sir Barnaby has ever been kind to me here. Now I can only feel pity for him, kind and loving man that he is, in having such a vicious and vindictive woman as his wife.’

‘Get away from me, you horrible girl!’

‘Oh, I am going—never fear.’ Jane’s head was up as she walked to the door, her spine proudly straight. ‘Let me assure you that I shall leave here as soon as I have packed the few things that truly belong to me.’ Including her mother’s letters!

Jane knew, as she hurried down the hallway to her tiny bedroom at the back of the house, that she was glad—relieved!—to at last have reason to leave Markham Park.

No matter what the future held for her—where she went, what she had to do in order to survive—Jane knew it could never be as awful as the years she had spent at Markham Park under the knowing and cruel hatred of Lady Sulby.

H
awk luxuriated in the heat of his bath, relaxing back in water that today was pleasurably hot and shoulder-deep—compliments of the fastidious Dolton, he felt sure.

Hawk had risen early and dressed before going down to the stables to mount the horse he had instructed Dolton to have saddled for him, surprisingly enjoying the ride across the sandy beach, his mood lightening as the salty breeze whipped through his hair and drove the cobwebs from his brain.

He had even allowed himself, briefly, to think of Jane Smith. The early-morning light had helped to put their encounter late the previous evening into perspective, thus making a nonsense of it—and of the sudden desire Hawk had felt for her. He had been bored—extremely so—and not a little irritated, and Jane, with her curvaceous body and sharp tongue, had presented a diversion from that boredom and irritation. Not necessarily a welcome one, he had acknowledged with a frown, but a diversion nonetheless.

Hawk’s mood had been further lightened when he had returned from his ride to Markham Park and read the letter that had been delivered in his absence. It was only a weekly missive forwarded from his man of business in London, Andrew Windham, but the Sulbys could not know that. Without knowing the contents of the letter they had readily accepted Hawk’s explanation that they necessitated he leave immediately.

Or at least as soon as he had bathed, Hawk acknowledged with a satisfied sigh as he sat forward to pick up the jug beside the bath and tip its hot contents over his hair, before washing it, musing as he did so on the fact that he would be away from Markham Park within the hour. The arrival of Andrew’s letter—a letter Hawk had so wanted to arrange himself—could not have been more fortuitous.

He could be at Mulberry Hall by tomorrow. Back in Gloucestershire. In control of his surroundings and the people who inhabited them.

And safely removed from that brief lapse of control he had known last night with Jane Smith…

Hawk banned Jane Smith and her bewitching green eyes firmly from his thoughts as he stepped out of the bath to wrap a towel about his waist and use another to dry his hair. He would ring for Dolton so that he might help him dress and shave before being on his way. He would not even delay his own departure until Dolton had packed his belongings into the second coach, preferring to be away from here, from the Sulbys—from the temptation of Jane Smith?—as soon as was possible.

It was not cowardice on his part but self-defence that made him so determined not to see or speak to Jane
Smith again before he left. Desire was something one felt for a mistress, not a young, unmarried woman—in this particular case the orphaned daughter of an impoverished country parson, who would surely have marriage rather than bedding in mind.

A bedding was definitely what he was in need of, Hawk mused as he strolled through to his bedroom. A good, satisfying tumble in bed with a woman of experience who would expect nothing from him in return but a few expensive baubles. Yes, that would dispel any lingering thoughts of Jane Smith firmly from—

He turned incredulously in the direction of the bedchamber door as, after the briefest of knocks, it was flung open. The subject of his thoughts came hurtling through the doorway, her face flushed, her eyes over-bright, and that glorious red hair dishevelled, with wisps trailing loosely against her cheeks and down her creamy throat.

‘Oh!’ Jane Smith came to an abrupt halt, the colour deepening in her cheeks as she obviously took in Hawk’s state of undress.

His first instinct was to pick up and quickly don the robe that lay waiting on a bedroom chair. His second instinct was to ask why should he? He was in the privacy of his bedchamber—a privacy Jane had rudely intruded upon—so why should he concern himself with her obvious embarrassment at his semi-nakedness?

He raised one disdainful brow. ‘I trust you have good reason for interrupting my ablutions in this abrupt manner?’

Jane stared at him.
Did
she have good reason? She couldn’t think—had no idea why she was even here. And
Hawk—most definitely not the Duke of Stourbridge!—was standing there looking so—so—

His shoulders had appeared wide and powerful in those superbly tailored jackets, but the naked flesh was so much more immediate. His arms were muscled, a dark smattering of hair grew on his tanned chest, and down below the towel wrapped about his tapered waist…

Her startled gaze returned to his face, and just as instantly became aware of the disarray of his recently washed hair as it curled, as yet ungroomed, across his brow, taking away much of his austerity and giving him a youthfully rakish appearance.

Minutes ago it had seemed vitally important that Jane speak to the Duke before he left. Now she could not even remember what she had wanted to speak to him about!

That dark brow rose even higher. ‘Jane?’

She swallowed, frowning as she tried to remember.

‘I wish you to take me with you when you leave today, Your Grace!’ The words tumbled from Jane unchecked as she finally remembered her purpose for being here.

She had gone back to her bedroom after leaving Lady Sulby in order to read her mother’s letters. Not ‘disgusting and sinful’ letters at all, but those of a woman pouring out her heart to her lover as she told him of the child she carried—the child they had created in love—assuring him that she loved their child as she still loved him. Whoever he was. Because all four of the letters had begun simply, ‘My dearest love’, and ended with, ‘Ever yours, Janette’.

Jane had sat and cried after reading them. For Janette. For Joseph Smith, whom her mother had ob
viously felt a deep affection for but had never loved in the way she had her married lover. For the real father Jane had never known…

But once the tears had ceased Jane had remembered her vow to leave here today. And that there was someone else leaving Markham Park this morning who, if asked, might take her with him.

The Duke of Stourbridge.

Except this morning he did not look anything like the Duke of Stourbridge, with his hair still damp and dishevelled after bathing, and only a towel draped about those powerful thighs!

‘You wish me to take you with me when I leave…?’ He spoke softly, incredulously, those sharply etched features revealing nothing of his inner thoughts at her request.

Jane nodded. ‘If you would not mind, Your Grace.’

If he would not mind!

This girl burst into his bedchamber, unannounced and with complete disregard for his privacy, and then proceeded to ask if she could accompany him when he left here today!

With what purpose in mind?

Yes, Hawk accepted that he had behaved with reckless impulsiveness the previous evening, when he had taken Jane into his arms and attempted to kiss her. But that really did not give her the right to think he might possibly want to pursue a relationship with her. Certainly not to assume he would want to take her with him when he left today!

His mouth twisted derisively. ‘Jane, can you be under the delusion that I wish to make you my mistress?’

‘No, of course not!’ She recoiled at the suggestion, her face paling, her eyes turning a deep, appealing green.

They had an appeal that, even in his wariness over her exact intentions, Hawk found he was not immune to. Irritatingly.

He lifted the towel from his shoulders to absently dry his hair. ‘Then what do you want from me, Jane?’

She blinked. ‘Merely to ride in your carriage with you when you leave here today. I have a small amount of money saved, if you require payment—’

‘No, I do not require payment, Jane! Not of any kind.’ Ice edged his voice. ‘Because you will not be coming with me.’ He threw the towel impatiently down on a chair before donning his robe after all, a dark scowl creasing his brow. ‘How old are you, Jane?’ he demanded as he tied the belt tightly about his waist.

She looked dazed by the question. ‘How—? I am two and twenty, Your Grace.’

‘Indeed?’ Hawk nodded abruptly. ‘Old enough by far to know that you do not burst unannounced into a gentleman’s bedchamber and then, finding him in a state of undress, proceed to ask him to take you away with him!’

Put like that, perhaps his assumption that she wished to become his mistress was understandable, Jane acknowledged ruefully. If completely wrong. She simply wanted to leave here as quietly and as speedily as possible.

She grimaced. ‘I do not wish you to take me away with you, Your Grace. I merely wish to share your coach with you when you leave.’ She also wished she’d had the forethought to wait until he had invited her to enter before bursting into his bedchamber in this way. She
would certainly have saved them both embarrassment if she had done so.

Although the Duke didn’t exactly
look
embarrassed as he began to pace the room restlessly. Even dressed only in the black silk robe, he was still possessed of that supreme self-confidence that seemed such a natural part of him it surely had to be inborn.

Deservedly so, Jane acknowledged as she found herself remembering the lean strength of his body. Muscles rippled in those long legs even now as he walked, and the defined muscles in the chest she had viewed earlier were something she dared any woman to resist. And especially a woman who had already found herself dreaming about him quite shamelessly the night before.

Jane felt her nipples swell and harden against the softness of her drab-muslin gown, her breasts rising and falling beneath the bodice. She suddenly found it difficult to breathe, and that strange warmth was back between her thighs.

She did not believe the accusations Lady Sulby had made about her’s mother wantonness. Those letters she had read seemed to confirm that her mother had loved only one man: her married lover, Jane’s natural father. But as Jane looked at the Duke of Stourbridge—at Hawk—she could not help wondering if she might not herself be a wanton. She had dreamt of this man last night. Hot, erotic dreams. And she was so physically aware of him now that she once again felt an unaccustomed ache low in her stomach.

‘You have no idea what you are asking, Jane!’

She raised her eyes to meet the Duke’s glittering
golden gaze as he glared at her. ‘I assure you I would try not to be any trouble—’

Hawk interrupted with a humourless laugh. ‘Believe me, Jane, you do not have to try!’ He could not spend hours, days, confined in his coach with a woman he had already physically responded to so uncharacteristically.

Damn it, he might respond in that way again, once alone in his coach with her, and take her on one of the seats!

‘Why the urgency, Jane? What has happened since yesterday evening to make you so determined to leave here?’

She turned away so that he could no longer read the emotions in her eyes. ‘I have decided I can no longer reside under the same roof as Lady Sulby. That is all.’

No, damn it. It was not all. What had that witch done to Jane to create the desperation he sensed in her? What could Lady Gwendoline possibly have said or done to Jane this morning to precipitate her immediate flight from Markham Park?

It was none of his business, Hawk reminded himself sternly. He did not like Lady Sulby, and had found her to be a pretentious and spiteful woman, but she was nevertheless the wife of Jane’s legal guardian, and as such Hawk knew he had no right to interfere.

No matter how disturbed he was by the haunted look he had perceived in Jane’s eyes a few minutes ago. Even if the thought of leaving her here to the continued coldness of Lady Sulby brought the bile rising to the back of his throat.

If Jane left her guardian’s home with the Duke of Stourbridge—a single gentleman—then without a doubt the Duke of Stourbridge would be forced into marrying her.

Something Hawk did not intend to happen!

He turned away from the renewed appeal in those expressive green eyes. ‘No, Jane. I am afraid it will not be possible for you to travel in my coach with me today. Whatever disagreement you have had with Lady Sulby, you must face it and deal with it. Running away from your problems solves nothing.’ Hawk knew that what he was advising was the correct and only course in the circumstances, but inwardly he could not help but feel appalled as he listened to his own pomposity.

What other choice did he have? None that he could see.

But he could have wished that Jane did not look at him so disappointed before she turned her head away and her slender shoulders slumped defeatedly.

He drew in a sharp breath. ‘Perhaps if you were to tell me exactly what has occurred to cause this distress—’

‘Thank you, no, Your Grace.’ Her shoulders were tensed proudly now. ‘It only remains for me to wish you a safe journey.’ She walked towards the door.

‘Jane!’

‘Goodbye, Your Grace.’ The quiet dignity of her voice cut through him like a knife.

Hawk crossed the room in long, forceful strides to press his hand against the closed door. ‘Jane, surely you must see how unsuitable it would be for you to travel anywhere alone with me?’

‘I understand completely, Your Grace—’

‘Jane, I have warned you about “Your Gracing” me in that dismissive way!’ Hawk reached out to grasp her shoulders with both hands. ‘I can see that you are upset, Jane.’ His voice gentled. ‘But can you not see it is an upset that will quickly pass? Lady Sulby does not mean to be cruel, I am sure—’