The Art of Stealing a Duke’s Heart by Ellie St. Clair

Chapter 12

As soon as she was out of view from the door, Calli broke into a run, her hand against her lips, where she could still feel and taste Jonathan upon them.

Oh, God.

He had tasted wealthy. Like brandy and coffee and wonderfully like the duke he was.

Whereas she… she was stealing from him. He had literally found her breaking into his room of treasures, which he had then gone on to share with her.

She didn’t deserve his trust, nor his kiss, nor his affection, nor his employ.

Arriving at her room, she threw herself on the bed, her head in her hands as she lay there, contemplating this mess she had found herself in.

When she had agreed to this, her role was supposed to have been to take a quick sketch of a painting. She was then to return home, where she would finish it and then allow Arie and Xander to do the rest.

Instead, here she was, wrapped up in this duke, in this family, unable to see her way out.

Knowing that there was little chance she would find sleep anytime soon, she locked the door before unrolling the canvas, which just fit across the expanse of floor that was not covered by any other furniture.

Calli arranged the paints in front of her before mixing them the color of the ocean that swept across the original canvas. It was so layered, the water moving in such great swirls of waves, that she knew it would be a challenge, but one she was up for. Her only concern now was how observant Jonathan would be over the painting. He seemed to have more knowledge on the subject than she had originally presumed. He was not a man who collected paintings for their value nor their prestige.

He didn’t even showcase his most amazing pieces, but instead kept them hidden away from the world in a place for himself. It was a shame, and yet Calli could understand it.

She could only pray that the painting he housed in his study was one that he had become so used to seeing that he didn’t even look at it anymore.

And when she left? Well, she would be nothing more than a memory for him. Hopefully a memory he looked back on with some fondness, if she did her job well and he never discovered her true intentions.

For if he ever did?

Well, she didn’t even want to fathom it.

* * *

“Do you think she’s dead?”Matthew’s voice drifted into Calli’s dreams.

Poke.

“I don’t think so. Maybe she knocked her head.” Mary. They were both here.

“On what?”

“How would I know?”

“If that was true, how did she get into her bed?” Matthew sounded indignant.

“Maybe she crawled.”

“But wouldn’t the light have woken her up?”

“I suppose…” Mary’s confidence was waning.

“That’s why I think she’s dead.”

Calli cracked her eyes open to see two matching, curious faces peering down at her.

“Oh, look, she’s alive.” Calli nearly laughed at how disappointed Matthew sounded.

“Thank goodness. I don’t want Uncle to have to find a new governess.” At least Mary was relieved.

“What time is it?” Calli groaned as she sat up straight in the bed, even as she brought a hand to her eyes to block the annoyingly bright sun that radiated through her south-facing window.

“I’m not sure, but we’ve already had breakfast.”

“You have? How?”

“The maid left a tray.”

“Why didn’t she wake me?”

The children looked at one another and shrugged.

Calli sighed as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, hitting one of the containers of paint as she did. She had mixed them at home, knowing what colors she might need, and had then asked Xander to bring additional hues. She reminded herself to ask Xander to mix the final thin glazes for her when she returned to London. She tried to nudge the container under her bed with her toe, hoping the children wouldn’t notice.

“What’s that?” Mary asked, crouching, and Calli stood quickly, trying to distract her.

“What’s what?”

“Whatever you just pushed under the bed.”

“Nothing. Just a snack from last night.”

“What were you eating?”

“I can’t remember.”

Why were children so relentlessly inquisitive? She couldn’t understand how they didn’t get through to their uncle. Their questions should be enough to wear anyone down.

Mary was faster than she, quickly reaching down and pulling the paint out from under her bed.

“Is this paint?”

“Ah… yes.”

“Why do you have paint?”

“I enjoy painting,” Calli said, deciding on the truth.

“Can we paint with you?”

Calli inhaled slowly, considering how much supply she had with her and how much the children might use. But one look at Mary’s hopeful face told her she didn’t have much choice.

“Of course. After I have my tea?”

They nodded and agreed to give her a few minutes to get dressed and prepare herself before joining them. After painting long into the night, Calli had only slept for a couple of hours. She couldn’t keep this up or she was going to lose more than sleep — perhaps her sanity.

Tonight she would forgo painting for rest, she promised herself. But, until then, she had a long day to get through.

* * *

Jonathan pulledon his gloves as he began crossing the green to the stables, where he would find General and then go explore the lands he had been told about.

He didn’t realize he was going to be waylaid.

“Uncle! Where are you going?”

He turned to find Mary and Matthew running up toward him.

“Children,” he said stiffly with a nod. “Where is Miss Donahue?”

“She’s sleeping,” Mary said.

“Again,” Matthew added.

“What do you mean, she’s sleeping? It’s noon.” He looked around for the woman.

“She was reading to us under the big oak tree and then she fell asleep. We had to wake her up this morning, too.”

Jonathan placed one hand on a hip as he rubbed the other hand over his forehead. Calli had been awake with him quite late last night, but she still should have found time for sleep.

“Show me where she is,” he said with a resigned sigh.

“Why don’t we come with you, instead?”

He gave them a look that told them he was not prepared for an argument.

“Fine,” Mary said, kicking the toe of her boot into the ground before leading him across the grassy field toward the trees in the distance.

His smile began to form when he first spotted her, and only served to grow the closer they came.

For there, sprawled on a blanket under the large oak tree as comfortably as could be, was Calli. Fast asleep.

The three of them crouched down next to her, Matthew poking her in the side.

“She was like this when we woke her up this morning,” he said, his words just above a whisper. “Barely moving. We thought she was dead.”

She did look quite peaceful in her repose. She always carried an air of joy about her, but in sleep her tranquility was almost envious. Jonathan had the feeling that he never slept that soundly, instead always tossing and turning as he thought of all that was required of him the coming day.

“Should we let her sleep?” Mary asked, turning her head to look up at him, and Jonathan noted how much the girl looked like his sister. It was nearly disconcerting.

“I cannot leave you alone.”

“We could come with you.”

“I have to ride a fair distance.”

“We know how to ride,” Matthew said, pulling himself up to his full height, which was not actually that tall.

“Yes, but can you ride as fast as General?” Jonathan asked, lifting a brow, to which Matthew hung his head.

“No,” he said ruefully. “No one can ride as fast as General, and I’m afraid I’m not tall enough to fit upon him.” He looked up at Jonathan, hope in his eyes. “I could ride with you.”

“And what of Mary?”

“I could take her.”

They all jumped at Calli’s voice, looking down to see that her eyes were now open and she was leaning up on her elbows.

“You’re awake.”

“Of course I’m awake,” she said, her nostrils flaring indignantly, to which Jonathan couldn’t help but laugh, and Calli and the children all looked at him wide-eyed with astonishment.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, looking between them all.

“You laughed,” Mary said, her mouth slightly open, showing the gap between her teeth.

“Yes?” he said, not understanding.

“You never laugh,” Matthew said, his little fists on his hips.

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Sure, I do,” he insisted, then hedged, “sometimes.”

Calli took pity on him and began to push herself to her feet. Jonathan held out a hand to help her, her fingers closing over his, causing a flood of memories from the night before to wash through him.

“You say you can ride, Miss Donahue?”

“Yes,” she said, although her confirmation was far from sure.

“Did you ride much, growing up in London?”

“Now and then.”

“Hmm,” he said, looking at her and the firm tilt of her chin. “Very well. But you will ride Buttercup.”

“Buttercup?”

“Yes, Buttercup. Come, then. Let’s go before I change my mind.”

* * *

Calli was morethan relieved to find that Buttercup was a rather old, sturdy, docile mare. Calli hadn’t lied when she said she could ride, but she wasn’t exactly skilled. She remembered riding a pony as a child, and when Arie’s fortunes had grown enough to buy himself a horse, he had taught them each to at least lead the horse in a walk, should they ever find themselves in a situation that required it.

Well, here she was.

Mary settled in behind Calli, squeezing her little arms tightly around her, and Calli was suddenly gripped with how much responsibility she had taken on. The child’s life was in her hands. Jonathan must have sensed her sudden unease, for as he handed Calli the reins, he placed his hands upon her clenched ones for a moment.

“Remember, the horse can sense your emotion. Be calm, and Buttercup will be calm as well.”

She nodded, forcing herself to smile with a confidence she didn’t quite feel.

Soon enough, however, they were walking slowly out of the stables, and Buttercup’s steady rhythm provided Calli with assurance that even if she couldn’t trust herself, she could, at least, trust the horse.

“That’s it,” she said, gently patting the horse on the neck as they followed Jonathan and Matthew upon General, a horse just as magnificent as his owner.

“How far are we going?” she called over to Jonathan as they caught up.

“To the next land over,” he said. “We should only be gone for a couple of hours.”

She nodded in response, although even a couple of hours atop a horse was a couple more hours than she had ever spent on one. She said nothing, however, but followed along behind, pleased, for the moment, to simply enjoy the beautiful day they had been gifted.

Now and again, she looked over at Jonathan, who seemed quite at home in the saddle. In fact, ever since they had arrived here at Wyndmere, he had slowly softened, losing some of the hard edge of his exterior that had surrounded him like a shell in London.

Perhaps it was the outdoors. Or maybe the fact that he was away from some of the responsibility that followed him around in the city.

Whatever it was, she enjoyed it. Perhaps too much.

For it was also far too easy for her to forget exactly why she was here in Jonathan’s home. In London, her family made sure to constantly remind her, just in case she lost sight of what she was supposed to be doing.

Not so here in the country.

For goodness sake, she wasn’t even thinking of him as the duke anymore, but as Jonathan. Which was incredibly dangerous. For the duke was an unattainable man, one who held far more wealth and prestige than was fair for any one man to have.

Jonathanwas another entity altogether.

Especially a Jonathan who had agreed to take the children with him on an excursion. Matthew looked positively thrilled, his back straight and a wide smile on his face as he held onto his uncle. It was obvious how much he looked up to him, the man who was his family and the one person who had taken them in when they needed it the most.

“Miss Donahue?” Mary said from just behind her ear. “Can we go faster?”

Calli looked down warily at the reins she held ever-so-loosely in her hands.

“I’m not sure…”

“Please?”

Calli looked over at Jonathan, who must have heard, for he looked at her with brows raised and question in his blue eyes.

“We can go a little faster if you feel up to it.”

She nodded determinately. “Of course.”

She remembered Arie’s teaching and nudged her heels softly into Buttercup’s side.

It was obviously not nearly enough prodding, for Buttercup continued her slow, methodical pace.

“A little harder,” Jonathan called, and Calli looked up to find a wide grin on his face. The man was laughing at her. She shot him a look of chagrin and nudged her heels in, much harder this time.

Buttercup obviously wasn’t entirely pleased as she let out a slight whinny, but she listened this time, picking up her pace.

Jonathan urged General forward, and the two horses began an amiable trot together, nearly in unison.

Mary laughed in glee from behind Calli and Matthew seemed similarly thrilled. Calli looked over at Jonathan, the two of them sharing a smile — one that they couldn’t seem to break, nor could they look away from one another.

This feeling… the connection between them, the children, the horses, the sun upon their faces… it was better than anything Calli had ever known.

Which made the thought that it was fleeting only hurt that much more.