Awakening His Duchess (17 page)

Perspiration broke out on his spine.

“Are we going back already?” asked Etienne, jerking him back
to reality.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t keep you from your lessons any
longer, but we’ll go farther tomorrow.” He bit off explaining that Yvette had
interrupted and delayed the remainder of the ride.

“Is Maman all right?”

“She’s fine.”

Etienne studied him skeptically.

“Turn your horse and we’ll start back.” Beau started to
stifle Etienne’s concern with an admonition not to worry about adult matters,
but that was what his father would have done to him.

Etienne’s mouth tightened.

“Your mother and I will figure out a way to get along, but
it might be bumpy as we get used to each other again.” The horses ambled
forward. Beau leaned and caught the dangling reins of the hunter Yvette had
tried to ride. “I said things I shouldn’t have when I first saw her...and you.”

Etienne’s nose scrunched, and he tilted his head. “So are we
to be a family?”

“We
are
a family.”
Whether we want to be or not.
“And now we are together as it should be.” A little voice in his head mocked
him for that because he’d just as soon send Yvette far, far away.

“I had a family in Saint-Domingue. Pere and—”

“I am your papa, now.” Beau didn’t want to be reminded of
the other man in Yvette’s life. Not necessarily a legal husband, but her bed
partner. What had this Henri meant to her? “And your mother is my wife.”

The words felt strange, but as he watched Yvette walking
away, not so very wrong. He remembered a time when watching her walk away had
torn at him, left him feeling as if a part of him was ripping off to stay with
her. He’d yearned for time with her, adored her, practically worshipped the
ground she walked on, but she’d betrayed his trust in her. Her belief in him
must not have been nearly as strong—an act perhaps. He could only guess an act
to get at a richer man than the one she had been promised to.

He’d never feel that way again, but she was still a
beautiful woman. And she might be a decent mother, albeit too overprotective.

Yvette flounced past the split in the lane that led to the
stable block. Where the hell was she going? Even if the horse had gotten away
from her, she was supposed to meet him there. She needed to learn to ride.

“Come along, Etienne. Danvers is probably wondering where
you are.”

Suddenly the horses seemed far too slow. They rode into the
stable yard and the stable master Beau remembered from his youth came out to
greet them.

Upon seeing the riderless black horse, he blanched white and
reached out his hand for a post. His other hand wrinkling his shirt against his
chest, he whispered, “Is my lady all right?”

“She is on her way into the house,” answered Beau,

The man stared wide-eyed, his features twisting with
concern.

Beau had been ready to berate the man—Gates, Yeats—his
memory was fuzzy, but the fright on the man’s face stilled the censure. “I took
her off the horse before she fell off.”

The man leaned forward and let out a deep breath.

“Why would you put her on a horse like that, Mr. Gates? It
is Mr. Gates?”

“Gates, yes, my lord. I told her it was too much horse for
her, but she insisted. Then she set off well enough.”

Beau hummed. Without clear direction from the top, a servant
was caught in the middle when one of the family gave an order. And Yvette was
one of the family. “Put the side saddle on Daisy and bring her up to the front
of the house.”

Directives should come from the duke, but this was his wife,
his child, and he had a duty to protect them. “In the future, do not allow an
inexperienced rider on a horse he or she cannot handle.”

“Yes, my lord. It won’t happen again.”

“Tell all the grooms, I do not want my wife or my son on any
horse I haven’t approved. I will inspect the livestock after I am done with
giving my wife a riding lesson.”

“You sound like Grandpere,” said Etienne.

Beau groaned, but he turned a smile on his son. “If you’d
like, Etienne, you may ride with me and we’ll run the horse to the front.” He’d
get there faster that way.

Etienne nodded, his blue eyes opening wide.

“If you would, Mr. Gates, hand Etienne up to me.”

Etienne was settled in front of him and Beau wheeled the
horse out of the stable yard.

“Hold on tight,” he whispered as he nestled the boy tight
against his chest and then kicked the horse to a smooth canter.

Yvette’s riding lesson would have to wait, not that she was
getting out of it. Turning the horse down the drive, he urged it to a run.

Etienne’s delighted laugh rang in Beau’s ears. These were
the sort of moments he wanted with his son. And the child was too big to get
the chance to hold in his arms often.

As they approached the gate to the road, he turned the horse
across the park. His muscles tensing and releasing, the horse flew across the
grass and Beau leaned into the small body in front of him. The freedom of speed
and holding his son was like the seventh level of heaven.

He started to shout instructions about how to flow with the
horse, but Etienne’s natural instincts already had him moving in rhythm.

Beau guided the horse into a long arching turn and then
kicked it up to full speed back across the parkland. Etienne’s excitement was
contagious. They could do this all morning or until the horse dropped from
exhaustion.

The front door of the house opened. Danvers came out onto
the top step.

Beau winced. In his youth he had ignored his own lessons too
many times, but he couldn’t encourage Etienne to shirk his schooling. Part of
being a father meant he had to be responsible and do right by his son, not
indulge in a day of just riding.

Beau slowed the horse to an easy lope and steered the animal
toward the front steps. He pressed a light kiss into the boy’s tobacco-colored
hair. Not hard enough that the boy might realize what he was doing. “Was that
fun?”

“Do we have to stop?” Etienne twisted around, his tilted
blue eyes shining.

“I’m afraid so. We’ve already made Danvers come look for
you. I shouldn’t have kept you so long.” Beau swung off the horse and reached
up for his son.

“Can we do it again?” His squeaky little voice was
breathless.

Beau groaned internally and looked toward his old tutor with
an apology. “Tomorrow, if you have a good day at your studies.”

Danvers gave him a half smile and held out his hand for
Etienne.

Etienne nodded solemnly and started up the stairs toward the
man. Halfway up he turned. “You should do that with Maman. She would
want
to ride horses then.”

Beau held his council. He didn’t think a mad gallop would
leave either him or Yvette thinking about the joys of riding horses. Then again
maybe it would be interesting.

 
*~*~*

Yvette stormed into the suite, her blood boiling. Her
humiliation was complete. She had all but indicated she wouldn’t fight against
the duke’s wishes for more grandsons, but Beau had made it clear he didn’t want
her. She embarrassed him. All the way back and up the stairs she had been
thinking he had no right to be embarrassed by her. No right to despise her and
to try and banish her from Etienne’s life. He had chosen her, she had never
asked for or expected him to marry her, and it wasn’t right that he rejected
her now.

Since she was an embarrassment to Beau, she’d just go back
to the nursery floor. She would not pretend all was well between them. And she
wouldn’t be
ordered
to conceive his children. A shudder moved from the
top of her head down to her toes.

Her maid was in the dressing room, likely arranging her
clothes.

“Stop putting away my things. I am going back to my old
room,” Yvette told her as she neared. “You may start taking my things back.”

“I can’t do that, my lady, the duke would have me sacked.”
Her maid gave her a sideways glance.

“Fine.” Yvette yanked an armful of dresses off the shelves.
“I shall do it myself.”

“Wouldn’t you like me to fix your hair instead?” asked the
maid a little desperately.

“Not now.” She carried the garments out the door and up the
stairs.

The maid followed her. “You can’t go back to your old room. His
grace will be furious.”

“I care not.” Yvette kept marching up the stairs.

“But it isn’t made up.”

“I can make a bed.”

Her maid gave a huff as she opened the door.

Yvette wheeled into her old room and dumped the clothing on
the stripped mattress. She’d have to get sheets or take the ones off the bed in
the suite.

She turned around and went to fetch another load.

“What will Lord Arrington say?” Her maid followed, yapping
all the way. “His lordship hasn’t been home long. I’m certain if you give it
some time...”

Yvette ignored her and all the other maids who stopped
working and peered out at her as she stalked back down to the shared suite. In
the dressing room she slid stacks of petticoats, stockings and chemises into
her arms. Adding a corset to the top of her load she backed out of the dressing
room.

“Where is she?” demanded Beau from the sitting room.

Yvette’s heart skittered. Why had he come after her? He had
no call to be angry with her.

“In the dressing room. I told her she couldn’t leave. Beg
pardon, my lord.”

Yvette marched out of the dressing room with her load of
undergarments. The least he could have done was interrupt a load of dresses.

Beau leaned against the archway to her bedchamber. He folded
his arms across his chest. “You were supposed to wait at the stables.”

Her pulse jumped. “I do not wish to ride.”

Beau tilted his head toward the maid. “Thank you, that will
be all for now.”

The girl curtsied and moved past him. His eyes trailed the
girl’s walk to the door and out into the hallway. God forbid he should look at
his wife.

The aching disappointment reminded her why she had to leave,
before she went insane. He stirred things in her that were best left dormant.

The door clicked shut and he looked at the floor. “The
horses are waiting,” he said stiffly as if she hadn’t said she didn’t want to
ride.

Yvette replayed her refusal in her head and was certain the
words had come out correctly. Did he just mean to ignore what she wanted as the
duke was wont to do?

“I am not learning to ride. Besides your father he waits to
speak with you.” She eyed the space between him and the doorframe and decided
she could make it past him. Ducking her chin she scooted past, bumping her
shoulder into the far side.

“He can wait. Why don’t you want to learn to ride?” asked
Beau, sounding curious.

But if he wouldn’t look at her, she wasn’t going to continue
looking at him like a lost puppy hoping for a scrap of food. She drew to a halt
in front of the door to the corridor and tried to shift her stack to open the
door.

He reached around her and twisted the knob. “Where are you
going with those?”

She shivered but marched through with her armful of
undergarments. “I return to my old room.”

“Is there something wrong with your room here? Would you
like a different bed or drapes?” He sounded puzzled.

The only thing wrong with the room was that it was attached
to his. “My old room is better.”

Wanting away from him and the unbalanced way he made her
feel, she picked up her pace.

“We should discuss this before you do something mad,” he
muttered.

“I do mad thing?” She whirled and would have poked him in
the chest except for her load of clothing. “Blaming me for what I am is mad.”

A footman down the corridor paused and waited for them to
continue. Two maids peered out of rooms.

Beau’s blue eyes slid to the floor, and her chest tightened.
Could he not even look at her? Did she embarrass him that much?

“No, and as soon as you drop off this...clothing we will go
outside for a riding lesson.”

“Non.”
She spun back around and tripped on the long
skirt of the habit. Stumbling, she recovered her balance and turned toward the
stairs.

“Wait.” Beau lifted the long train out of her way.

Her skirt became lighter. The gesture seemed oddly
considerate given that he wanted to make her ride a dangerous animal, but she
couldn’t think about that now.

“After your riding lesson, the servants can move your things
if that is what you want.
After
we talk.”

“My maid she refuse.”

“Ah.” His breath was near her ear and made her insides
tickle.

She took the stairs as fast as she dared without actually
running. English ladies didn’t run.

The hell with them if she embarrassed him with her lack of
English breeding. She took the last six stairs two at a time, leaving Beau
behind. Stopping in front of her old door, she tried to shift her load around
to reach the doorknob. The servants were everywhere except when she needed one
to open a door.

Beau pulled up beside her, and the heavy rasp of his
breathing made her tense and listen for the wheezing that would signal
tightness in his lungs. A twinge of guilt hit her. He opened the door.

She darted inside, trying not to brush against him. His gaze
swept the room taking in the single chair, washstand, narrow bed and armoire.
“This is your old room?”

She risked a glance at him. His brow lowered.

“You can’t prefer this.” His voice tightened. “Why were you
put in a governess’ room?”

He couldn’t be...insulted that she was housed in so ordinary
a room. She hadn’t thought it mean. It was as large as any room she’d occupied
in Saint-Domingue. Although it was plain and sparsely furnished compared to the
luxurious rooms appointed to the heir and his wife. However, this room, as
humble as it was, didn’t suffer from the coldness of his disgust. She’d be far
more comfortable here.