The Hidden Heart

She was overwhelmed with weariness as soon as her eyes fell upon the bed, and it was all she could do to take the time to wash her face and change into her bedclothes. At last, with a grateful sigh, she stretched out between the sheets and closed her eyes.

Tomorrow would be better, she told herself again, and she fell asleep, thinking about the troublesome duke.

3

Lady Leona Vesey crossed her arms and looked over at her husband as if he were a rat that had just run into the room. They were sitting in the single private dining chamber in the Grey Horse Inn in the early afternoon, waiting for their luncheon to be brought. Leona had had more than enough of the uncertain service and unsophisticated amenities of a village inn. As if those things were not irritation enough, Lord Vesey had just told her that they were going back to the General’s manor house.

“Have you gone mad?” she asked in a scathing voice, her tone implying that she had already answered her own question. “Why in the world would we want to go back to the General’s house—I’m sorry, I should say, to that misbegotten brat’s house? I, for one, have no liking for having the door slammed in my face.”

Her husband scowled back at her. He had spent the evening after the reading of the General’s will comforting himself with a large bottle of port, and, as a consequence, this afternoon his tongue felt coated with fur and his head seemed to have acquired an army of tiny gnomes hammering away.

Lord Vesey did not like his wife at the best of times. Right now he was entertaining cheerful visions of putting his hands around her throat and squeezing until her eyes bulged. “The door won’t be slammed in our face.”

“Your brain is obviously soaked in port. Don’t you remember? The General kicked us out.”

“Yes, you bollixed that one up, all right,” Lord Vesey agreed.

“I?” Leona exclaimed, her eyes widening. “I bollixed it up? You were the man’s great-nephew. It was you who made him despise you.”

“Ah, but you were supposed to be able to wrap an old man around your finger. Remember?” Vesey grinned evilly as he reminded his wife of her earlier, confident words when they had first heard that General Streathern was on his deathbed.

Personally, Lord Vesey had never admired his wife’s looks. He had married her because she was the only woman he had found in the Ton who was utterly indifferent to his little peccadilloes and quite happy to let him go his own way…as long as she was allowed to go hers. Other men fell all over themselves to get at those swelling breasts of Leona’s, but he found such lushness rather grotesque. He much preferred a lither, slimmer silhouette…such as the one on that Gabriela chit. Unconsciously he licked his lips as he thought of her. Leona was far too old, as well. It was the sweet bloom of youth that he preferred, and there was nothing quite like the joy of being the first to pick the fruit.

He relished Leona’s look of chagrin so much that he went on. “That is the second one, you know. First you bungled that affair with Devin last summer, and now you couldn’t even rouse the interest of an old man. I fear you are losing your touch, my dear. Or is it your age showing, do you think?”

Flame leaped in Leona’s eyes, and her face screwed up in an unattractive snarl. She wanted to leap on him, claws out, and damage him. But she knew that Vesey was such a coward, he would probably start wailing and shrieking, and then someone would come running. It would be thoroughly embarrassing to have everyone in a common inn see what a pitiful, mewling creature her husband was. So she contented herself with saying, “As if you would know what a real man wanted! You are nothing but a degenerate!”

“My, my, and to think you know such big words.” Vesey widened his eyes in mocking amazement. “Have you been bedding down with a man of letters?”

Leona sneered at him. Vesey was hardly a man. He had come to her bed a few times when they were first married, making a feeble attempt to get her with an heir—as if either one of them cared about that! She had soon set him straight in that regard. She had no intention of growing fat with anyone’s child, and she took pains to prevent that occurring. His lovemaking she regarded as pathetic, nothing like the passion that Devin had been able to give her. Her eyes glowed a little even now as she thought about his skillful caresses. No other man had been able to make her shudder and moan as Dev had, and she had missed him sorely during the past few months. No matter how many men, from lord to common laborer, she had tried to replace him with, none had proved to have his stamina or skill…or inventive mind.

What rankled the most was the fact that Vesey was right. She had indeed bungled the whole thing with Devin. She had overestimated her power over him. She had been the one to suggest that he marry the American heiress. But how was she to have known that the whey-faced, social disaster of a woman whom she had envisioned would turn out to be a cunning beauty? Instead of Devin’s taking the woman’s money and spending it on Leona and their pursuit of pleasure, he had settled down with the doxy at that stupid estate of his in Derbyshire, and Leona had been left both penniless and sexually frustrated. The whole thing had made her permanently cross.

“It doesn’t matter now, anyway,” she said in disgruntlement. “We got nothing in the General’s will, and the best thing we can do is go home. I can’t wait to get away from here. I cannot conceive how anyone can stand to live in the country.”

“Ah, but we still have a chance to gain something, my dear—quite a lot, in fact, if we only have the courage to seize the moment.”

“Seize what moment? What nonsense are you babbling?”

Vesey sighed exaggeratedly. “Are you really so short on wit? We may have been cheated out of our inheritance, but Gabriela is only fourteen. Her fortune will be handled by her guardian. If I was her guardian, we would have a tidy sum at our disposal. And I would be quite willing to take it upon myself to, um, look after the girl’s proper education.”

Leona rolled her eyes. “You are a pig, Vesey. Not only that, you’re stupid. She already has a guardian. And the Duke of Cleybourne is not a man you want to cross.”

Vesey shrugged. “You are thinking of the duke as he used to be. The truth is, for the past four years he has been a shell of a man. You know what a recluse he turned into when his wife died. You think someone like that will welcome an adolescent girl into his household? He doesn’t need her money—he’s as rich as Croesus. Besides, he’s far too noble to think of using her money for his own benefit. No, she will be nothing but a bother to him, and I am willing to bet that he will be happy to lay the burden off on someone else.”

“Not if that someone is you.”

“I’m not saying I would be Cleybourne’s first choice. He and I have never been friends—he is far too dull. But if I am already in the house, if I am in possession of the girl, so to speak, and he sees it will be a battle in court to regain her, well, it will be a far easier matter to hand the guardianship over to me.”

“What makes you think you will be in possession of her? They won’t even let us in the door.”

“Really, Leona, who will stop us? The servants won’t have the nerve to deny me admittance. The old man is dead now, after all. They no longer have his authority behind them. They won’t dare say no to a lord, especially since they know that if the girl does not reach her majority, I would inherit the place as her only relative. Believe me, they will not risk offending me.”

“The girl can tell them not to let you in.”

“A fourteen-year-old female? She wouldn’t have the courage or the wit.”

“Her governess is a dragon.”

“She may be, but she is merely a governess. She won’t stand up to a lord, either. When I show up at the door, they won’t know what to do except stand back and let me enter. Once we are in the house and have actual control of the girl, we will be in the catbird seat. I will sue to be named her guardian. As her only living relative, I have a good case for it, and, besides, I don’t think Cleybourne will contest it. What will he care? He doesn’t even know the chit.”

Leona looked at her husband doubtfully. The whole thing seemed far less sure than Vesey made it out to be. On the other hand, they were teetering on the edge of financial ruin. Indeed, they had been slipping down the side of it for quite some time. Their creditors were becoming increasingly insistent, and the last time Leona had been to the dressmaker, the blasted woman had flatly refused to make another garment for her until Leona paid her bill. Any possibility that would alleviate their situation would be worth a try.

“Oh, all right,” she agreed testily. “Let’s go over to the bloody house. At least if they slam the door on your nose, it will be somewhat amusing.”

There was a knock on the door, and without waiting for permission to enter, the innkeeper opened the door and backed into the room, carrying a large tray. “Good afternoon, my lord. My lady. Here’s your luncheon.”

His wife bustled in behind him, carrying another tray, and together they unloaded a vast array of food on the table. Leona cast an eye over the fare, plentiful but, she felt sure, as bland and plain as every other dish the inn had given them in the past few days. Never, she thought, had she appreciated her cook in London so much.

“Ah, Sims, tell them to have my carriage brought ’round after we eat. Lady Vesey and I are going to transfer to the General’s house.”

“Of course, my lord. Goin’ over there to see to things, are ye? I warrant they’ll be glad to see ye after that theft last night.”

“Theft?” Vesey looked blankly at the portly innkeeper. “What are you talking about?”

“Why, at the manor house, my lord. I thought ye knew. I supposed that was why ye was goin’ over there, to make sure the house is safe and all.”

“What happened?” Leona asked. “What did they steal?”

Sims shook his massive head. “That’s just it. They didn’t take much. The safe was broken into, and things inside it were all scattered about, but Pierson didn’t know exactly what the General had in there. Some jewelry’s gone, they think. All the drawers in the old man’s desk were opened, and papers all over—the General’s will, ye know, and all kinds of business papers. Couple of things broken. The place is a right mess, is what me nevvy told me. He were makin’ a delivery there, ye see, and the cook told him about it. He says the butler near had a fit, ye know, seein’ that. What with the General barely cold in his grave.”

He sighed lugubriously. “’Tis a sad, sad thing. No respect for the dead anymore. Ah, well, at least the girl was safe away. Reckon it would have scared her somethin’ awful.”

“Safe away?” Lord Vesey repeated in hollow tones.

“Why, yes.” The man looked at Vesey closely. “Didn’t ye know? The young lady and her governess left yesterday afternoon, after the funeral and all. Gone to her guardian’s, Will says, some duke in Yorkshire. I woulda thought ye’d know all about that.”

“Yes, of course. I was merely distracted by your tale. I do know that. She has gone to Castle Cleybourne.”

“Aye, that’s the place.” The innkeeper nodded. He stepped back from the table, giving Lord Vesey a cheerful grin. “Well, there ye are, my lord. Enjoy your meal.”

“What? Oh, yes, of course.”

“And I’ll tell them to bring up yer carriage.”

“Oh. Uh, yes, do that.”

The innkeeper followed his wife out of the room, closing the door behind him, and Vesey sank with a sigh into his chair. Leona regarded him with a malicious little grin.

“I would say that knocks your plans all cock-a-hoop,” she said with no discernible sympathy.

“Bloody hell! Whatever possessed that girl to go running off to Cleybourne like that?”

“Mmm. Perhaps she suspected what you were planning?”

“Don’t be absurd.” Vesey, who counted himself quite clever, sent his wife a nasty glance. “I didn’t even know it until a few minutes ago. How could she?”

Leona shrugged. “Well, whatever caused it, you certainly won’t be able to lay hold of her now. At least we shall be able to return to London.”

She walked over to the table and looked down at the array of food. Vesey remained in his chair, thoughtfully tugging at his upper lip.

“Perhaps not…” he said after a moment, rising and sauntering over to the table, looking pleased with himself.

“What are you talking about?” Leona asked crossly. “Not return to London? I trust you are not thinking of going to the manor house still.”

“No. Especially not with people popping in and out, taking things. I was thinking more of going to Yorkshire.”

Leona stared. “You can’t be serious. Yorkshire? Cleybourne? You think you can wrest the girl away from the duke?”

“Wrest? Of course not. Don’t be nonsensical. But it would do no harm to ask. I told you—what use does Cleybourne have for the girl? He’d probably love to get rid of her. If we were to go by there on our way to London…”

“A little out of the way, don’t you think?”

Vesey waved this objection aside. “I could offer to take the chit off his hands. Blood relative and all. He might be swayed by the argument.”

“I sincerely doubt it.” Leona had little faith in her husband’s ability to sway anyone. “Cleybourne’s always been an honorable sort—not a prig like Westhampton, of course. He did like to have a little fun back before he married Dev’s sister, but marriage ruined him.”

She paused, looking thoughtful. “But he has been living like a monk ever since Caroline died.”

Vesey looked over at her. “What are you saying?”

“Well…he might not be immune to a little feminine persuasion. What has it been since Caroline’s death—three, four years? That’s a long time. I’ve heard no rumor of his having an affair with anyone, even a light-o’-love, in that time.”

Lord Vesey smiled. “You think he might be ripe for the plucking?”

Leona’s golden eyes were alight with anticipation. “A lonely widower…winter evenings around a cozy fire…that’s almost too easy a target for one with my talents.”

The more she thought about it, the more Leona liked the idea. Cleybourne was a handsome man, tall and broad shouldered, and wealthy. Seducing him into her bed would be no hardship on her, and it would be pleasant to have a new, indulgent lover. She didn’t know whether he would turn the girl over to Vesey, but that was entirely secondary to Leona. Of first importance was the prospect of acquiring an infatuated lover eager—and able—to ply her with expensive gifts.

“I don’t know, Leona,” Vesey warned. “He is quite friendly with the Aincourts, and you know in what esteem they hold you.”

Leona’s eyes flashed. “I don’t care if he is as thick as thieves with the loathesome Lady Westhampton. She is Dev’s own sister, and her opinion of me never kept Devin out of my bed. Trust me, a few hours with Cleybourne and he’ll be panting after me. A few days and he will be willing to give me whatever I want.”

Lord Vesey smiled. “Well, then…eat up, and we’re off to Yorkshire.”

Jessica awoke the next morning in a much improved mood. A good night’s rest was often the best antidote to one’s fears and doubts. Looking out the nursery window at the rolling Yorkshire countryside, washed with the pale light of a wintry sun, she believed the reassuring things she had said last night to Gabriela. This morning, she was sure, the Duke of Cleybourne would follow the honorable course and accept his guardianship of the girl and welcome her into his house. He had simply been caught by surprise last night.

She breakfasted with Gabriela, talking about how they would explore the house today, and later in the morning, when a servant came to the nursery with a summons from the duke, she followed him downstairs with a light step.

The footman ushered her into the same study where she had spoken to Cleybourne the night before, then bowed out of the room, closing the door behind him. The Duke of Cleybourne was seated behind his massive desk, more formally attired in a jacket and snowy cravat than he had been last night. He rose at her entrance and with a gesture indicated a chair in front of his desk.

“Miss Maitland.”

“Your Grace.”

“Please, be seated.”

Looking at his face, some of Jessica’s good mood evaporated. He was by daylight as handsome as he had appeared last night in the dimmer candlelight, but his expression was, if anything, even grimmer. She wondered, briefly, if this man knew how to smile.

“I have given a great deal of thought to this situation,” Cleybourne began in a heavy tone. “And I have come to the conclusion that it would not be in Miss Carstairs’ best interests to be my ward.”

Jessica stiffened, and her hands curled around the arms of her chair, as if to keep herself from vaulting out of it. “I’m sorry. Perhaps I misunderstood you. Are you saying that you are sending us away? Are you going to turn Gabriela over to Vesey?”

Her mind was racing even as she spoke, thinking how she could flee with Gabriela before he could give the girl up to Vesey. Where could she go? How could she protect her?

Cleybourne flushed faintly, and his mouth tightened. “Good God, no, I don’t intend to turn her over to that roué! How can you even ask that?”

“How can I not?” Jessica retorted heatedly. “I know nothing of you except that you refuse to be her guardian.”

“It is not that, exactly. It is just…well, when her father wrote his will, my circumstances were different. My wife was still alive, and my—” He stopped abruptly and rose to his feet, pushing back his chair. “But mine is a bachelor’s household now, Miss Maitland,” he went on, pacing away from her. “Scarcely a good place for a young girl. She needs a woman’s guiding hand, someone who can plan her debut and introduce her to society, teach her all the things a girl on the edge of womanhood needs to know. I would be at a complete loss at any of those things.”

“She has me, sir,” Jessica said, rising to her feet as well. “I may be only a governess, but I did make my coming-out in London. I was brought up as Gabriela should be brought up. And when the time arrives for her to come out, surely you have some female relative, a sister or mother or aunt, who would be willing to guide her through the waters of London society.”

“Makeshift remedies, Miss Maitland,” he said in a clipped tone, facing her from across the room. “No doubt you are an excellent teacher. However, she needs more than that. She should have the close guidance and company of an older woman, one experienced in the ways of society. I cannot provide that, and neither can you.”

“She needs comfort and strength right now, and that is more important than what she will need four years from now. She needs a home, a place where she belongs, where she is wanted. She lost both her parents six years ago, and now has lost the man who was a grandfather to her. She has no family because I will not consider Lord Vesey her family.”

“Of course not. But I am not her family, either.”

“No, but you were her father’s friend. You are the man her father would have wanted to be her guardian. Because of that, she places her trust in you. And you are the man the General wanted to be her guardian. He placed his trust in you. Did you not read his letter? He feared that Vesey might try to—”

“I will not let Vesey have her. I already told you that. It isn’t as if I am turning the two of you out into the street.” Cleybourne scowled at her blackly. “Damn it! You are the most infuriating woman. I told you, I will find a suitable place for her. My sister-in-law, perhaps. I will write Rachel and see if she and her husband would raise her. Of course you will stay here until I find the proper place, and I assure you that if Vesey should pursue the matter, I will take care of him.”

Jessica started to argue again, but she stopped and pressed her lips tightly together, controlling her anger. She had to stay with Gabriela; that was the most important thing, especially if this man was going to shuffle the girl about. She had already pushed him as much as she dared. She must not offend him so much that he let her go. “Very well, Your Grace.”

The duke’s eyebrows rose in faint surprise at her capitulation. “Yes. Well, that’s settled, then.”

“Shall I bring Miss Gabriela to meet you now?”

“What?” An odd look, one almost of fear, crossed his face, and he shook his head quickly. “No. I—it would be best if we did not meet, I think.”

“What?” Jessica was too astounded not to stare at him. “You will not even meet her?”

“It would be better for her.”

“How is it better for her?” Jessica demanded, anger boiling up too fast and hard for her to be prudent. “To know that you will not even see her? That you cannot be bothered?”

“That is enough, Miss Maitland!” His dark eyes flashed. “I am her guardian, if you remember, and that is my decision. She should not become attached here. This will not be her home. It will be easier for her to leave this way.”

“Easier for you, you mean!” Jessica retorted hotly.

Richard’s eyes widened in astonishment, and Jessica realized then how far she had overstepped. But, in the next moment, to her surprise, the duke let out a short bark of laughter. “I cannot imagine how you managed to be a governess, Miss Maitland, given that razor of a tongue of yours.”

Jessica lifted her chin a little. “General Streathern approved of straight speech.”

“I would not think he brooked insubordination.”

Looking Cleybourne straight in the eye, Jessica said evenly, “The General was not a man to use his power unwisely.”

Cleybourne looked at her for a long moment. Finally he said, “Thank you. That is all.”

Jessica, resisting the impulse to give him a sarcastic curtsy, merely nodded and left the room.

Inside she was seething. The man was unfeeling! She stalked down the hall, scarcely noticing where she was going, and scowling so blackly that a maid, dusting a table, quickly stepped out of her way.

She knew that she could not return to Gabriela in this mood. She must come up with some way to present Cleybourne’s decision to the girl without hurting her, and right now all that would come spurting out of her would be the furious, unvarnished truth. She decided a walk would be the only way to burn off her ire, so she went down the back stairs and out a door into the pale winter sunshine.

Immediately she realized her mistake; it was far too cold to be outside without a wrap. But she could not go back upstairs for her coat without running into Gabriela. She decided one quick turn around the garden would have to do.

She had walked halfway down the center aisle of the garden when footsteps on the stone behind her made her pause and turn. A small woman, bundled up in a cloak, was walking toward her, and over one arm was draped another cloak. She smiled as she neared Jessica.

“Miss Maitland, I thought you might find it a wee bit cold out here, so I brought you a cloak.”

Jessica took the wrap from her gratefully. “Thank you, Miss…”

“Brown. Mercy Brown. I am the housekeeper here.” Her eyes twinkled merrily, matching her smile. “And I must confess it was curiosity more than kindness that sent me out here. I have been wanting to meet you ever since Baxter told me about your arrival with the wee one.”

Jessica smiled back at the woman. “It is a pleasure, Miss Brown, whatever the reason. But Miss Gabriela is scarcely a wee one.”

“Ah, well, she was but a baby the last time I saw her. She was a pretty thing then, and Baxter tells me she still is.”

“Yes. She is very pretty. And good-natured, as well.”

The housekeeper’s smile grew even broader. “I’m glad to hear that. It will be so good to have a young person about the place again. It will be good for the master, too.”

“The duke? Not much. He plans to ship her off somewhere as soon as he can,” Jessica told her sourly.