The Art of Stealing a Duke’s Heart by Ellie St. Clair
Chapter 6
The woman was some kind of witch.
That was the only explanation for the enchantment she had seemed to place over him last night as he had stood there with her cool, soothing fingers upon his face.
He never let anyone that close. Never.
Not physically, and certainly not emotionally.
No, Jonathan was just fine on his own, and he didn’t need any capricious governess trying to absolve him of all of his problems.
Others had tried to come close to him before, and it had always ended in disaster. He wasn’t about to allow it now.
Even if, in that one moment, it had felt so good to rest his head against her hand and allow her to soothe him.
But now, in the light of the next day, he had returned to sanity and the truth of his life. A dangerous life of lies.
Before business, however, he had promised Davenport to meet him for a morning ride. After mounting his horse, General, Jonathan had led him into a warm-up walk before finishing with a trot as they entered Hyde Park. Jonathan could admit that one of the aspects he did enjoy about being in the country, as far as it took him from all of his business interests, was the freedom of riding. It was the only place where, as his infernal governess put it, he could be free and release those burdens.
But for now, the park, which should hopefully be nearly empty this early in the morning, would have to do.
“Davenport,” he greeted his waiting friend, who always looked as free as Jonathan did burdened. “Fine morning.”
“It most certainly is,” the marquess said. “You left the Sheffields early last night.”
Jonathan shrugged. “I had other matters to attend to.”
“You know, if you spent as much time charming young ladies as you did studying your ledger book, you would either be London’s most notorious rake or a happily married man,” Davenport said with a laugh, and Jonathan snorted as he shook his head.
“I don’t have much care to fall in love, Davenport, you know that.”
“But your mother expects you to marry. And she will be returning from Bath in the near future.”
“Yes, and then she can look after those little hellions.”
“I thought you found a governess.”
“I have.”
“Well, then, what does your mother’s return matter?”
Jonathan sighed. “I was hoping the children would keep her distracted from her intentions to see me wed by the end of this season.”
“Because she would far prefer that you had a wife who would be responsible for the children.”
“That is not entirely true.”
“But partly.”
“Partly, yes, most assuredly,” Jonathan said with a curt nod. “But for now, our current arrangement will have to do. Finding a wife has proven far too time-consuming.”
“I don’t know how you do it,” Davenport said, shaking his head.
“Do what?”
“Spend so much time with your work, your investments. Where is the joy in that?”
It was curious that Jonathan and Davenport had become such fast friends, for they viewed life completely differently. Davenport was all about finding the fun that life had to offer, which seemed to work just fine for him. But whenever Jonathan tried to follow suit, he was left unsettled, unsatisfied.
And then there had been the one time when he had allowed his heart to open. Look where that had gotten him.
“You’re thinking of her again,” Davenport said, causing Jonathan to swerve his gaze back toward him.
“Who?”
“You know who. The person I know you’re thinking of when your face closes off darkly.”
“I do not think of her.”
“No?” Davenport said, lifting one of those black brows in the expression that caused women to fall at his feet. “Is she not the reason you now are who you are?”
Jonathan grunted. “If anything, I should be thankful to her. For she taught me that I need to be careful who I trust, that I need to keep my guard firmly in place. Most people who I meet want something from me. She was no different, and I should have known better.”
“She turned you into a cynical man,” Davenport said, something close to regret lacing his voice. “Not everyone is out to get you.”
“Most are. Or out to get something. She wanted my name, my wealth, a man who would never question her for fear he would lose the respect that meant so much. I am only glad I discovered the truth when I did.”
“For that, I suppose, you can most certainly be grateful,” Davenport said with an audible exhale. “Well, enough chatter for one morning. What do you say we race?”
“I say it’s about time,” Jonathan said, relief sweeping over him that Davenport had finally left the issue alone.
“The tree down there,” Davenport said, pointing into the distance. “The one that was cracked in the storm, with the fallen branches. We’ll race there.”
“Are we wagering?”
Davenport’s normal smile now widened into a huge grin.
“Of course. What would you like to wager?”
“If I win, you never discuss my past again,” Jonathan said, hardness in his voice that caused Davenport to narrow his eyes at him.
“And if I win?”
“What do you want?”
“A night with that lovely creature under your employ?”
“What are you talking about?” Jonathan asked sharply, his gaze swinging to his friend.
“The one playing with the children on the green in front of your house yesterday. She caught the eye of many a passerby.”
Jonathan gritted his teeth. He knew he should never have allowed such a thing. He should have listened to his instincts.
“You know I can never agree to that.”
“Keeping her for yourself?”
“No!” he barked. “She’s a member of my staff and therefore under my protection. From men such as me — and you.”
“Most men wouldn’t agree with you.”
“That is of no consequence.”
Davenport sighed. “Very well. Five pounds will do.”
With that, they counted down together before urging their horses on, across the empty field toward the tree in question.
Jonathan’s heart raced in time with his horse’s hooves. Every gentleman loved to ride, it was true, but for him, riding was part of his very soul, the one time when his spirit soared free, when he felt like he was flying along with his horse. He could never properly explain it to anyone else, and when he had tried to broach the subject before, he had felt the fool, for no one seemed to properly understand the pure joy it brought him. But joy it did bring.
He became so caught up in floating over the air and the race against Davenport that he barely registered when the empty field was suddenly empty no longer.
A figure ran out in front of him, so small and slight that he nearly mistook it for an animal due to the speed of his own mount.
Jonathan cried out to Davenport even as he hauled on General’s reins, as the horse gave a loud whinny of protest when he dug his back feet into the earth. Jonathan just managed to hold on and avoid flying over the horse’s head as the child was suddenly covered from danger by the figure running after him, rolling over top of him and shielding him.
Even as the dust began to float down from the air surrounding them and settle to the ground, there was no mistaking who was before him.
His governess, the woman who, apparently, all of London was talking about if Davenport could be believed, was curled into a ball around his nephew.
* * *
Calli squeezedher eyes shut tight as she waited for the horse’s hooves to pound over her, and she prayed that she could keep Matthew out of harm’s way.
When the impending doom didn’t arrive, she cracked open one eye and then the other, even as Matthew began to squirm in her arms, apparently no worse for his near brush with death.
“Miss Donahue,” he grunted as he squirmed. “Miss Donahue!”
“Miss Donahue!” Another voice came from behind her, and she closed her eyes once more when she heard it. The intensity of it was enough to remind her that she was Miss Donahue. At least for the time being.
That voice did not sound particularly pleased so she decided to just ignore it for a moment.
She released Matthew, setting him back on his feet.
“Are you all right?” she asked, running her hands over him. “Are you hurt at all?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m fine.”
“Oh, Matthew, you had me so worried,” she said, her heart still pounding in her chest. She could still see him running out in front of the horses, sure that he was going to be trampled to death. She would never have been able to bear it.
Mary came running up to them and immediately began to scold her brother. “That was stupid,” she said, her hands on her hips. “You were nearly killed.”
“I was not!”
“You were too!”
“Everyone is fine,” Calli said as she turned over, except that as she did, she realized there was one person who was not entirely fine.
“Matthew, Mary!”
They all turned as one to see the duke striding toward them, his gait powerful, purposeful, and altogether displeased.
“Your Grace,” Calli said, attempting to get to her feet to curtsy, but as she stood, she nearly fell back over when her ankle didn’t seem to want to cooperate and hold her up.
“What is the meaning of this?” the duke thundered, and Calli winced as she placed a hand on the shoulders of Matthew and Mary, in part to offer them her support and in equal part to hold herself up.
“I’m sorry, Your Grace,” she said, still slightly winded from her sprint across the park. “Matthew got away from me and by the time I caught up, I was nearly too late.”
When the duke lifted his hat and wiped a hand across his forehead, Calli realized that he was not so much angry, but he was worried — which, she supposed, was a stride in the right direction to actually caring for the children.
“My God, Matthew, you were nearly killed — by my own horse,” he said, horror in his voice at the thought of just what could have happened.
“Luckily you appear to be a rider of great skill,” Calli said in an attempt to lessen the severity of the duke’s anger. “You managed to stop in good time.”
“Yes,” he said, turning his stormy gaze toward her, “but if you hadn’t caught Matthew, it would have been Davenport who would have run over the child.”
“Although I like to think that I am of equal, if not greater skill to Hargreave here,” said a handsome man with light, curly locks escaping from beneath his hat as he strode over from where the horses were now tied, sending Calli a wink and then a grin that she couldn’t help but return. He was an attractive man, that was for certain, and obviously a charming one as well. Was he really friends with the duke?
Calli’s employer turned his withering stare on the man and shook his head.
“Not right now, Davenport,” he said before looking at Calli, his gaze now levelled, something in his eyes akin to… was that respect? “You risked your life for my nephew, Miss Donahue.”
Calli shook her head, not wanting such praise. She didn’t deserve it. “I was just trying to keep him safe, Your Grace. Anyone would have done the same.”
“They most certainly would not have,” he said, his voice brokering no argument. “Assuredly none of the boy’s other governesses. Now, I’m also not sure that any of them would have had the courage to take these two children into Hyde Park, but as you were foolish enough to do so, I appreciate what you were willing to do.”
She nodded. “Thank you, Your Grace,” she said, unsure how else to respond to what she assumed was a compliment, coming from him.
“Since you are here, now, Uncle, would you like to spend some time with us?” Matthew asked eagerly, sweeping his arm back behind him. “Miss Donahue said you couldn’t accompany us because you are working, but it seems that you are riding.”
“That was yesterday,” Calli murmured toward him, her cheeks burning hot at being caught in the lie, even by a child. “Your uncle is a busy man.” She turned back to the two gentlemen. “We shall be going. Come along, children.”
She began to urge them back toward the path, but as she tried to step onto her right ankle, she gave a hiss of pain.
“Miss Donahue?” the duke stepped toward her. “Are you all right?”
“Just fine,” she said, waving him away, wishing he would leave now. She was sure if she was able to make it back to the carriage and the footman who awaited them, they could be home quickly, before she made a spectacle of herself.
“It looks to me that you have injured your ankle.”
“It’s just a sprain, I’m sure of it,” she insisted, knowing that it would hurt a great deal more if it were anything worse. She had experienced such injuries before.
“Sit.”
“Oh, no, really, I—”
“Sit.”
When the Duke of Hargreave commanded someone, it was obvious that he accepted no answer but acquiescence. Even the children looked at her with the expectation that she obey. Calli sighed and sat down on the grass, even as the second gentleman crossed his arms over his chest and looked on with a smug grin on his face that Calli didn’t quite understand.
The duke held out his hands to her, and she looked up at him, confused. From what her siblings had told her, gentlemen were not supposed to touch ladies in public. Except, she supposed, she was not exactly a lady and they were not exactly in public.
“No need to be afraid of me ravishing you in the middle of Hyde Park,” he said rather snidely, earning snickers from Matthew and Mary — and his friend, who at least tried to cover his with a cough.
“I would never dream of such an occurrence, Your Grace,” she said, holding her head high, knowing that he would never deign to consider a dalliance of any sort with a woman like her — a woman in his employ, far from the standard of delicate beauty he would be used to.
She did, however, remember Diana’s suggestion that Calli would make a most enticing mistress for a gentleman, should the situation ever require it. Arie had become so angry at the idea of it, however, that Diana had quickly abandoned it.
When Calli found herself nearly trembling at the duke’s strong, firm fingers near her ankle, however, she pushed the thought away as quickly as it had invaded.
He didn’t look at her as he deftly untied the laces of her boot before slowly sliding it down her foot. It would have been a seductive moment in itself had it not caused a bolt of pain to shoot through her ankle, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out.
The duke’s firm fingers now stroked over the stockings covering her leg, feeling for any damage, and he asked her to turn her foot one way and then the other, still not looking her in the eye.
“How does that feel?” he asked, finally looking up to meet her gaze, and she had to swallow hard when he did, for his eyes had turned a rather dark, intense shade of blue.
“I-it hurts a bit,” she said, “but I can certainly still move it.”
“Good,” he said curtly. “Where’s the carriage?”
“We left it — with the driver and the footman — near Rotten Row,” she said.
“The footman should have accompanied you,” he muttered, before turning his head, not letting go of her foot. “Davenport, would you make yourself useful and ride over to find the carriage? Tell the driver to bring it back here, closer to where we are. That way we won’t be on display before the eyes of anyone out for an early stroll.”
“I am not your servant, Hargreave.”
The duke closed his eyes for a moment, clearly vexed.
“Please?” he said, the word nearly indecipherable due to the growl that accompanied it.
Davenport grinned in return. “Very well. Since you asked so nicely.”
He began whistling as he strode back to his horse, and soon enough he was thundering by them, leaving the four of them alone.
“We’ll meet them at the road,” he said before lifting Calli’s boot and attempting to slide it back on, but it was no use. The ankle was too swollen. “Damn it, I should have left the boot on,” he said, lifting his hat and running his hand through his hair. “I cannot have you walking in your stocking feet. If you even are able to walk, that is.”
“I am perfectly fine, Your Grace,” she said, shaking her head insistently. “Perhaps if the children can find me a stick of some sort, that would help me walk to the road.”
She looked up at them with an earnest smile, but before anyone could respond, the duke had risen to his feet, and then was bending down, scooping his arms beneath her.
“Your Grace, what are you—” Calli exclaimed, but it was too late. She was in the duke’s arms. And it didn’t seem likely that he was letting her go.