Devoted to the Duke, page 3
Jeremy had never known the man but Cor always spoke of her husband fondly. He regaled her for an hour about places he and Matthew had visited, including some of the businesses they stopped at.
“You’ve always had a head for numbers,” she noted, shaking her head. “I’m afraid your brother only has a head for women.”
He frowned. “Has Luke gotten some girl into trouble?”
“Trouble seems to find Luke wherever he goes. He was in a good deal of it during his Christmas holidays.”
He sighed. “What has he done now?”
“I had to dismiss one of the maids at Eversleigh.”
“Was she with child?”
“No, fortunately. She was almost twice his age. I caught them in a compromising position in the conservatory. It seems Luke started paying her three years ago to . . . teach him . . . things.”
Shock filled him. “Paying her? What kind of lessons did she offer?”
Cor sniffed. “Kissing lessons, to begin with, starting when he was twelve. They had progressed from chaste kisses to more . . . friendly ones. Luke pressed her—”
“He didn’t force her?” Jeremy asked quickly.
“No, nothing of the sort. Luke merely encouraged her to help him expand his horizons as time passed. They’d never engaged in relations, thank the heavens. All but that. She admitted to me that Luke was most likely the best kisser in the county and beyond. He confessed to me that he’d learned how to appreciate a woman. How to worship her body. How to please her in small ways. He said it was all quite useful information that would benefit him in the future.”
Jeremy shook his head. “The audacity of that boy. Father should take a firmer hand with him.”
Surprise filled Cor’s face. “You think your father would chastise him? For all I know, my son encouraged this maid to take Luke under her tutelage. It wouldn’t surprise me if he also paid the woman to educate Luke in the ways of the flesh.”
“You’re right,” Jeremy admitted. “I never told you before but Father took me to a bawdy house when I was around fifteen. It was mortifying. He wanted us to share the same tart. He forced me to watch them couple and then wanted me to do the same as he observed and offered advice. I refused and walked out. He never mentioned it after that.”
She shuddered. “Now that you’re home, my darling, it would be good for you to take Luke under your wing. He needs a good example of what it means to be a true gentleman. I can think of no one finer to guide our Luke than you.”
“I will do my duty, of course, Cor. What happened to the maid?”
“Luke begged me not to dismiss her. He claimed everything had originated with him and that she’d gone along in order to keep her position. While I doubted it, I didn’t have the heart to turn her out without a reference. She is quite a good maid and they can be hard to come by. In the end, I sent her to a property I inherited from my family. It’s isolated, with only a small village nearby. She won’t find much to do there but she still has work.”
“You are kindhearted, Cor.”
She shrugged. “I do my best for this family.”
“I’m afraid to ask since the news of Luke has been all bad, but what of Rachel?”
Her face softened. “Rachel is a delight. She reads voraciously. Asks about everything. Her riding skills have improved tremendously.”
“Is she still climbing trees?”
Cor chuckled. “Would you expect anything less? I turn a blind eye to some of her activities but, mind you, I know everything she does. As far as Luke goes, he’s a good boy, just a bit misguided. His grades at Eton have been excellent. He has tremendous potential. They both do.” She paused. “I know they are only half-siblings to you, Jeremy, but you must promise me you’ll look after them when your father and I are gone.”
He took her hands in his and kissed them. “That won’t be for many years, Cor.”
She smiled. “You’d be surprised. I’ve been to my fair share of funerals lately. It seems I have friends dying to the left and right of me. You can do me a favor, however.”
“Name it. I am yours to command.”
“Escort me to the Wethersby ball tonight. A dear friend of mine will be attending. She lost her husband over a year ago and buried herself in the country. She’s only just come to town and I promised I would meet her there. Besides, it would be a good way to let others know you are back in London.”
“I can do that but I have a favor to ask in return.”
She patted his knee. “You only need to ask, my boy. I doubt I would deny you anything.”
“Father seems to be hiding something.” He watched as she stilled. “I aim to find out what. I want to tour all of our properties and become familiar with how they’re run. He’s—”
“I will share with you what I know, Jeremy. Why don’t we meet after breakfast tomorrow to discuss matters? Right now, I’m sure you’re ready for a bath and a good English meal.”
Soaking in a hot bath sounded very appealing but he disliked being put off again. Still, Cor would be true to her word and tell him everything she knew. He supposed he could wait until morning to discover what his father had been up to.
“I’ll take your advice, Cor. It will be a bath for me and fresh clothes.”
“Evening wear, darling. Don’t forget the ball.”
“Of course.”
He kissed her cheek and made his way to his bedchamber. Manfry was ecstatic to see him and immediately sent for hot water. While Jeremy waited for it to arrive, he dashed off the letter of recommendation for Matthew Proctor and asked Manfry to entrust it to Barton’s care. He fully intended to speak with his friend tomorrow but leaving it with Barton would be more convenient.
As Jeremy soaked in the hot tub, he wondered what Cor might reveal about the state of their affairs.
*
Catherine exited the carriage and her father offered her his arm. She took it and he escorted her and her mother inside. They joined the receiving line and were soon greeted by Lord and Lady Wethersby. The viscountess remarked upon Catherine’s birthday gift.
“What a sumptuous necklace. It suits you, of course, bringing out the blue in your eyes. Your dance card will be filled in no time, Lady Catherine.” With a sly smile, she added, “I’m sure you’ll have your pick of the litter by the time the Season ends. Aim for a duke, my girl. With your looks and family name, it’s easily within your grasp.”
Catherine smiled benignly as she moved away. She couldn’t understand the fixation on titles that every woman seemed to possess. Everyone from her own maid to society matrons urged her to do what it took to wed someone above her station, especially a duke. For heaven’s sake, there were only so many dukes to go around and even then, most of them were already wed. Once again, she glanced at her parents and wished she could find love.
Or that love might find her.
“I’m off to the card room,” her father announced, kissing his wife’s cheek and then Catherine’s. “Enjoy yourselves.”
“Be sure to get your programme du bal,” her mother urged. “Last time, I believe yours filled up more quickly than any other girl’s did. Looking as you do tonight, I believe the same will occur.”
She saw her friend, Charlotte, and went to greet her as a footman handed her the dance card. Catherine slipped it into her reticule and joined Charlotte.
“Wherever did you get that brilliant necklace?” her friend asked, her eyes round as Catherine slipped her arm through Charlotte’s.
“Today is my birthday. Papa and Mama gave it to me in honor of the occasion.”
“Then I suppose I should steer my papa in your papa’s direction. Maybe he can learn something from Lord Statham. On my eighteenth birthday, I received a new hat.” She sniffed. “Mama is pleased we’re friends, you know.”
“Why so?” Catherine thought Charlotte’s mother a bit pushy, though she realized she had her daughter’s best interests at heart.
“You are so popular with the men and your dance card fills so quickly. When a gentleman asks you to dance and I’m standing beside you, they often turn to me and request the same. That pleases Mama greatly. I, on the other hand, simply enjoy your company and believe we’ll always be friends,” Charlotte declared. “You know, if we both wed at the end of the Season, we might have our first child around the same time. Why, by next Season, you and I could be old married ladies—and mothers.”
The thought of her life changing so rapidly frightened Catherine. No man had truly caught her eye, so she asked, “Have you formed any special attachment?”
“Not yet. I have my eye on a few prospects,” her friend said mysteriously. “Oh, look. Here comes the horde.” Charlotte moistened her lips and smiled prettily.
Catherine looked up and saw a group of eligible suitors headed their way. She raised a gloved hand to hide her mouth, stifling the giggle that threatened to erupt. The men looked like a pack of animals as they approached. A few fanned out in other directions, letting the alpha males of the pack have first dibs.
She watched as her programme began to fill with names. A blond man hovered nearby as she finished speaking with a viscount who had bucked teeth and a lisp. As the viscount moved toward Charlotte, Catherine recognized the waiting gentleman since they’d danced together previously but she couldn’t recall his name. That was the problem with the Season. So many social events. Dozens of introductions. Far too many dances with men who then disappeared to dance with another debutante. The evenings, with all the faces and names, became a blur.
“Good evening, Lady Catherine,” the man said. “I’m hoping you would do me the great honor of dancing with me again this evening. I so enjoyed your company when we danced together before.” His smile revealed white, even teeth as his blue eyes sparkled.
At least this one showed some potential. She needed to at least think about getting to know some of these men beyond casual comments regarding the weather. She offered her programme to him.
“You may claim the supper dance if you wish, my lord.”
His eyes lit up, knowing they would not only dance together but spend an extended time in conversation as they dined.
“I’d be most delighted.” He wrote his name and returned the card to her.
Glancing down, she said, “I look forward to our dance, Lord Morefield.”
After that, Catherine turned down several suitors, apologizing for having no more room on her card, heeding her mother’s recent advice before they’d disembarked from the carriage.
As she turned away another disappointed gentleman, Charlotte hissed,” How could you have no vacancies left? Most of the men who’ve asked you to dance have also signed my card. I still have five openings.”
“Mama begged me to leave two slots open tonight,” Catherine explained. “She instructed me to leave the supper dance and the final dance of the evening free. That way, if I found someone to my liking, I might offer a second opportunity and spend additional time with him. I allowed Lord Morefield to have the supper dance since he somewhat intrigues me. Instead, I left the one after supper and the last of the night vacant.”
“Oh, my word! Your mother is a genius, no doubt about it. I shall do the same from now on.”
As a few others approached them to ask for a dance and she shook her head, Catherine’s gaze scanned the room. She recognized many of the faces as everyone waited for the music to begin. None of them excited her, in particular. If she didn’t find anyone else interesting tonight, she would skip the final dance and go find her parents so they could depart before the rush of carriages clogged the road.
Then her eyes fell upon someone she didn’t know and her breath caught in her throat. This man hadn’t attended any event of the Season. She was certain of that for he would stand out in any crowd.
He was taller and broader of shoulders than the companion he conversed with. His hair was as black as midnight, matching his fitted trousers and coat. His shirt was snow white against his tanned face. She wished she could see what color his eyes were. As he gestured, it was with a fluid grace.
Who was this very handsome stranger—and how could she persuade him to dance with her?
Chapter Four
Jeremy stood conversing with an acquaintance from his Cambridge days. He’d seen Cor settled with her friend and had wandered into the ballroom when he’d run across Neville.
“You simply must try Gentleman Jack’s while you’re in London, Sather. You were quite the boxer at Cambridge. I placed bets on you on several occasions and won every time.”
He’d taken up boxing in his youth because it interested Timothy and anything that Timothy wanted to do, Jeremy wanted to do even more. The brothers had sparred with one another, perfecting their skills over the years. After Timothy was gone, Jeremy thought he might never box again. Then someone had challenged him to a match his second year at Cambridge and he’d accepted. Word of the bout spread across the campus from college to college and a good number of young men turned out.
Jeremy had knocked his opponent out in the third round.
In boxing, he found an outlet for the pent up rage that had swirled through him ever since he’d lost his brother. Never one to back down from a challenge, he’d gone on to fight several times over the next couple of years, losing only once. He’d eaten something that violently disagreed with him the evening before and had spent most of the night bent over his chamber pot, puking his guts out. In a weakened state the next day, he should never have fought. Still, the fight went a good six rounds before he succumbed to his fatigue.
“I may investigate that, Neville, though I haven’t boxed in over a year.”
“I’d be happy to introduce you to the man himself,” his companion said. “Oh, is that Morefield? You two were friends, weren’t you? From your Eton days, I believe.”
He looked across the room and spotted his fair-haired friend—and the luminous beauty Morefield stood in front of. She wore a dress of deep blue and a sapphire necklace around her neck. Her auburn hair was artfully arranged and a contrast to her pale, smooth skin. In all his travels, he’d never seen a more beautiful woman.
“Who is that with Morefield?” Jeremy asked, unable to take his eyes from her.
Neville laughed. “That divine creature is Lady Catherine Crawford, older daughter of the Earl of Statham. She’s proven quite popular during her come-out. I hear she’s already been made three offers. Or it might be four.”
He tore his eyes from the beauty and stared at Neville. “Has she accepted any of them?”
“Not from what I’ve heard. Ton gossip says the lady refuses to entertain any more offers of matrimony until after the Season ends.”
An urgency to speak to her filled him. “Do you know her, Neville? I’d like to be introduced. Now.”
“Afraid not, Sather. She’s a bit out of my league, so why bother? Why don’t you ask Morefield to do the honors?”
He would. The viscount owed him.
“Good talking with you, Neville,” he said abruptly and made his way toward his old friend, who now headed in his direction.
As they crossed paths, Morefield caught sight of him and smiled. Pumping Jeremy’s hand enthusiastically, he said, “You’ve returned home. It’s very good to see you, Sather.”
“The same, Morefield. I only arrived in London a few hours ago. What have you been up to?”
The viscount had only recently finished his studies and spoke of that before he launched into a discussion regarding a pair of horses he was considering purchasing at Tattersall’s.
“Why don’t you come with me, Sather? You’ve always had a keen eye for horseflesh. Or are you going to bury yourself in the country or some other such nonsense?”
Jeremy’s closest friend had been his brother. After Timothy’s death, he found it hard to be around other friends and, gradually, most of them had fallen away. He was no longer a lighthearted boy but a man filled with guilt for having survived. He’d become something of a loner during his time at Cambridge, concentrating on his studies. Morefield was one of the few he’d spent time with, though not often, and he regretted letting their friendship lapse.
“I’d like to call in a favor,” he began.
Morefield stilled, his face growing serious. “You have every right to. I told you, years ago, I would do anything for you. You saved me, Jeremy. I wouldn’t be here today but for you.”
The viscount referred to when they were schoolboys. Morefield was a year younger and quite small for his age. When he’d arrived at school as one of the new boys, the older ones had bullied him unmercifully, reducing the newcomer to tears while their blows kept him covered in fresh bruises. Jeremy had little tolerance for bullies but hadn’t known Morefield and stayed out of the fray.
Until the night he couldn’t sleep.
Though against school rules, he left his bed in the wee hours of the morning. He found walking quieted his mind when it was racing. If he moved about, it calmed him and once he returned to his bed, he would be able to fall asleep easily. It happened at least once a month and he’d come to learn all the nooks and crannies of the school during these late night treks.
On one occasion, he’d moved through the halls, silent as a ghost, and longed to have some fresh air. Knowing he couldn’t leave the building, for a reason he would never know, he ventured up to the bell tower, a place he’d never been. As he ascended the stairs, he heard weeping as he never had. As if someone’s heart was being torn from his chest. When he reached the top and found the trap door to the belfry open, he climbed through it—and found Eric Saunders with a sheet knotted around his neck, his face ravaged with pain.
The younger boy’s eyes grew wide when he saw Jeremy.
“What are you doing here?” he said, choking on his words.
Jeremy saw Eric had stopped tying the other end of the sheet and realized the boy had been about to kill himself. He would have stepped through the trap door, his neck snapping in an instant.
“Is it because of the abuse from the older boys?” he asked softly.
Eric nodded, his eyes lowered in shame.
