Family Scandals (8 page)

Chapter Five

“Edward, although he wishes to be called Marcus now, has only been in residence for two full days, but he has already shown a marked interest in Miss Camden.”

Felicia, Duchess of Warringham, to her sister-in-law, Amanda Kenton, Countess of Wynton

The duchess allowed Caroline to leave her bed the next day, but she was not allowed any further than the gardens. With all the scrapes and bruises she still bore, Corinna knew Caroline’s protest was more from habit than dismay. She was sure of it when, in the rose garden that afternoon, Caroline lay on the chaise, content to listen to Corinna read.

Michael had gone off with his father, and the duchess, she knew, was in the cliff parlor writing letters.

Footsteps on the graveled path caused Corinna to look up from the book she was reading, only to freeze at the sight of Marcus coming toward them. Surprised Caroline had said nothing, she glanced over at her charge, only to discover she had fallen asleep.

Closing the book, she rose at his approach, trying to quell her nervousness.

“How is the patient today?” he asked in a low voice as he reached the foot of the stairs to the terrace.

“A little sore, but on the mend,” she answered in a correspondingly soft voice.

“Good. Michael tells me you like to fish.”

She smiled in amusement. “I’m afraid that, despite his sister and cousin, Michael thinks girls are all fluff and feathers.”

“And you haven’t taught him differently?”

Corinna looked away from that too handsome face. “I have only been with them since May,” she replied. “And I’m only temporary.”

“Ah, I think Michael mentioned his other governess was off tending an ill parent.” He climbed the stairs and leaned back against the balustrade of the terrace, studying her for a moment before he said, “But please, sit. Don’t stand on my account.”

“Oh, I wasn’t,” she assured him. “It’s just that I have been sitting and reading to Caroline for a bit of time. I needed to stand up, at least, if not stretch my legs a bit.”

“I shall be glad to play escort if you wish a turn about the garden,” he offered.

“Oh no. I couldn’t impose. Besides, I shouldn’t leave her alone.” She glanced down at the sleeping child and frowned. “I think I ought to move her inside. I’m not sure she ought to sleep in the sun.”

Marcus moved and she was struck by how smoothly he did. “Allow me,” he offered. Scooping up Caroline, blankets and all, he carried her into the house through a side door, Corinna on his heels. “Where do you want her?”

Corinna frowned again. “I-I hadn’t thought,” she began. “She won’t want to go back up to the nursery.”

“Where is Felicia?” he asked.

“Who? Oh, you mean Her Grace? I believe she is in the cliff parlor.”

Marcus turned without another word, and strode in the direction of the room in question. Corinna hurried to catch up with him. “But we shouldn’t disturb Her Grace,” she protested. “Take her to one of the other small parlors and I…”

Marcus did not deign to answer her, but continued to the back parlor, entering without knocking. Feeling embarrassed, Corinna watched as Marcus laid Caroline on a small sofa, then explained to his sister-in-law that Corrie needed to stretch her legs, and since Caroline had fallen asleep, she had not wanted to leave her charge alone.

Her Grace seemed to understand completely and agreed it would be just fine for her to keep an eye on Caroline and give Corrie some time to herself. Corinna could feel the blood warming her cheeks.

“I-I will only be a short time,” she assured the duchess, who only waived her away.

“Take your time. Caroline is not going anywhere, and I think when she wakes, we will spend some time at the pianoforte, bandaged hands and all.”

Flustered, Corinna had no choice but to follow Marcus’s broad shoulders from the room. She would have been even more embarrassed had she known the duchess watched the two of them depart, speculation and amusement in her eyes.

Bonnets were necessary for a number of things, not the least of which was keeping the sun off a woman’s face so she wouldn’t freckle or wrinkle. Corinna, however, was thankful for hers because it hid her burning cheeks from the too intent gaze of her companion as they strolled the paths of the topiary.

“So, what do you plan to do when the other governess returns?” Marcus asked.

“Her Grace has promised me a reference so I might find another position.”

“Have you no family?”

None, but you.
“No. My parents are dead.” Gregory, Anna, Phillip, Bernard and Diana did not count as family. In her book, families loved each other. They were not vindictive or mean, and they certainly never tried to do each other harm. “I lived with a great-aunt for a while, but she died earlier this year.”

“You nursed her until she died?”

She nodded.

“And what of her family?”

She hesitated before she answered. “She was my grandfather’s sister, and since all my grandparents are also gone, she had no one but me.”

“I see.”

Actually, he didn’t, but she wouldn’t disabuse him. She also did not consider great-aunt Mirabel’s son “family”.

“And you?” she asked in an attempt to draw the conversation away from her background.

“I have more family than I need.”

“More than you need?” she asked in disbelief, remembering the duke only had one other sibling, a sister. “But I thought you only had two siblings?”

He stopped to study a deer-shaped bush.

“And between them, eight nieces and nephews.” He turned to look at another bush, this one in the shape of a hare. “But it doesn’t signify as I don’t really
know
any of them except my sister. They may as well be acquaintances for all that they are family.”

“I suppose that’s what happens when you are gone for as long as you have been.”

“
Touché
,” he said, falling into step beside her.

“Were you not close to your brother and sister while growing up?”

“I was close to my sister, but my brother and I did not grow up together.” They had reached the hedge bordering the garden, beyond which was the meadow in which Caroline had fallen the day before. He turned to look at her and she noticed that his brown eyes had gold flecks in them. “Surely you’ve heard the tale by now?”

She shook her head. “Only the gossip of the servants, but some of what I have heard is difficult to credit, so I confess I haven’t believed much of it.”

She wouldn’t admit to him she knew even more than what she had heard through the servants. A conversation she had overheard in the stables at Houghton Hall eight years ago now made more sense in light of the bits and pieces the servants knew.

White teeth flashed in an approving smile. “Beautiful, and smart too.”

Corinna blushed and turned away. At the rear of the garden, on a slight rise, she sat on a bench positioned under an elephant standing on its hind legs.

“You must be curious,” he probed, seating himself beside her. “I have never met a woman who wasn’t anxious to know the most juicy gossip.”

She didn’t bite. “I confess I have found some of the facts curious, but gossip implies it will be passed on, and I have no interest in that.”

He was surprised, but her next statement revealed more to him than she intended. “Besides, who would I pass it on to? The children?”

Marcus looked over at the woman beside him. Her bonnet hid her hair from view, but he remembered fine gray eyes shielded by long, dark lashes, a smooth porcelain complexion, and a mouth made for kissing. For a moment, he let himself fantasize about kissing those luscious pink lips, then brought himself up short. Good God! Home less than two days and already lusting after the governess. What was wrong with him?

Marcus wondered if she felt betrayed by fate for being left to make her way alone in the world. It couldn’t be easy.

There were few avenues open to a woman on her own, and even fewer if she was a lady. A governess or companion were the accepted occupations for ladies with no other options. Even those, however, were limited. He wondered if she knew how lucky she was to have secured a position in this particular household. One where she would not be propositioned, or worse, forced to endure the unwanted attentions of the males in the household.

And just what do you think you’re doing?

He was suddenly ashamed of his earlier complaint of not knowing his family. His sister, older by three years, had doted on him until he was sent off to school. But his brother had disappeared when he was two, so he hadn’t known him at all. He had been smothered by an overprotective, overbearing mother who had been obsessed with him inheriting a dukedom he had not wanted, so friendships beyond a small, exalted circle were discouraged. Only Douglas had been brave enough to maintain their friendship in the face of his mother’s disapproval.

Despite it all, they would be there for him, come what may, but who would be there for the twins’ Corrie? He had already been told that, after only two months, the twins preferred Corrie to Kenny. Not that they didn’t like Kenny, Michael had confided in him, but Corrie was much more fun—and she could run really fast.

A small sailboat came into view and Corinna shaded her eyes to get a better look.

“Someone you know?” The motion had drawn the top of her dress tight across her breasts, and Marcus felt his body react. He turned and looked in the direction of her gaze.

“It is your brother and nephew.” Her voice washed over him like a gentle breeze. “I thought they might take the opportunity to go sailing while Caroline was indisposed.”

“Sneaking away?”

She shook her head. “No. Caroline would never admit to seasickness, but she is not a good sailor. And Michael would have been at loose ends without her this afternoon anyway.”

“They are close?”

“Very,” she said on a sigh. “They may eventually grow apart, but I do not think they will grow very far. I pity the young man who eventually catches her eye. His Grace will be bad enough, but I think Michael will be worse.”

He chuckled. “I was seventeen when my sister married. I remember making Trent promise never to hurt her. I’m sure he agreed in order to humor me—I was little more than a boy to him at the time.” Two gulls screeched overhead, then dove down beside the cliff and disappeared from view. “And it was unnecessary, as it was patently obvious he was very much in love with Eliza. I think it amused him I cared enough to say anything to him at all.”

Corinna knew why a sudden sadness settled in her heart. The pain of Douglas’s loss was never very far from the surface. The picture of Marcus as a youth, caring enough for his sister to approach her betrothed, brought her memories of Douglas. She could see him doing much the same for her. In her case, however, he would not have needed to extract such a promise. He had known that Marcus would never hurt her.

And so had she. So why didn’t she trust herself to tell him who she was? What was she waiting for—or afraid of?

She had very few options in her life right now, but would telling Marcus who she was give her more or less choices? She had no doubt he would insist on their marriage being recognized, but was that what she wanted? And did she want to trap him that way? Wouldn’t it be better for her to live her life on her own, rather than trap Marcus in a loveless marriage?

A silent sigh escaped as she pushed away the disturbing thoughts and turned her attention to the afternoon and the man sitting beside her.

Marcus put down the letter he was reading. It was the last of his father’s letters to Brand, this one detailing his grandfather’s downfall. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to concentrate on it. Instead, he kept seeing a pair of gray eyes awash in sadness.

And loneliness.

It was something he understood intimately. When Douglas had been killed, he had lost his best friend. His only friend. It was as if a part of him had died as well. When he received the letter addressed to Douglas, he had not wanted to open it. Once he had, he wished he hadn’t.

Losing a wife he hadn’t really known hadn’t affected him as much as it affected his mourning for Douglas. Suddenly, he was mourning not only his friend, but also the friend’s sister whom he had sworn to care for and protect.

She, too, had gray eyes. Closing his eyes, he tried, but could not completely recall Amy’s face. Instead, the governess appeared before him, her eyes drawing him in.

Amy would have been about the same age. But she had been much shorter, and thinner. What would she have looked like all grown up at seventeen, he wondered. Would she have gained any height, or weight?

At fourteen she had been outspoken, forthright and honest to a fault. Would she have retained those qualities, or would school have tempered them? After all, she had been sent to the same school Felicia had attended. He and Douglas both hoped the school would have tamed her a bit. She had needed those qualities at home—living in a household with siblings who more often than not attempted to do her harm.

But none of that mattered any longer. Amy was gone.