The Duchess Hunt (3 page)

One of the boys – Mark, Sarah remembered –
stepped forward, cradling a steaming cup in his hands, which the duchess took
and handed to Sarah after blowing a bit upon its surface. It was sweet and warm
and soothing, and Sarah sipped at it and held her body as rigid as the statue
of the Laocoön while Mrs. Hope applied the woodsy-smelling salve. If the
Laocoön could be so still while being strangled by a gigantic serpent,
then she could be still while her cuts stung and burned.

And if Simon had thought her brave, then
she would be.

Just then, the door opened, and yet
another servant stepped in, followed by her father. He rushed inside, then
halted suddenly, drawing himself up and fumbling to remove his wide-brimmed
gardener’s hat as the boys tumbled in behind him.

“Your Graces.” He bowed low toward Simon
and his mother. “Please forgive me. My daughter —”

“Ah, you must be Mr. Osborne.” The duchess
rose from her chair to greet him. “Welcome to Ironwood Park. I do hope you have
found its landscape to your liking.”

Papa’s gaze flitted to Sarah, who gave him
a fearful look, but she was still trapped behind Mrs. Hope’s ministrations, her
leg being held down, and she couldn’t move to his side despite the fact that
his expression summoned her.

“Ironwood Park is an idyllic setting, Your
Grace. I am honored to be employed here. The landscape is nothing less than an
artistic masterpiece, and I will do my best to maintain its glory.”

Sarah swallowed hard. She knew what Papa
was doing. Trying to convince the duchess that despite his daughter’s wayward
behavior, he was determined to perform his duties well.

He was trying to keep his position. And it
was Sarah’s fault he had to do this.

“It
is
quite lovely, isn’t it? Boys” – the duchess waved her hand toward
the door as she addressed her sons – “you are excused. You may remain outdoors
until dinner. Keep an eye on each other, and please try not to ruin your
clothes today.”

“Yes, Mama!” The four boys tumbled back
out of the room, but Simon didn’t move from his mother’s side. He stood
quietly, his shoulders straight and hands clasped behind his back. He gazed at
her father with solemn green eyes, his face a mask of politeness.

The duchess smiled at Sarah’s father. “The
duke rescued your daughter from the throes of a blackberry bush attack.” Her
dark brows rose into perfect arches. “No one informed me when we took you on
that you were in possession of a family, Mr. Osborne. Fredericks has been
remiss. I have told him time and again that he must tell me everything about
everyone who makes their home at Ironwood Park.”

Papa bowed his head. “It is only Sarah and
I, Your Grace. My wife, she – died last year.” Papa still couldn’t talk about
Mama without a catch in his voice. “I gave my assurances to Mr. Fredericks that
I would keep the child out of the family’s way.”

The duchess waved her hand. “The more
children frolicking happily about this cold and desolate place, the warmer and
friendlier it becomes. And your daughter, despite her ruffian appearance, is
quite the epitome of sweetness. Not to mention that this house lacks in female
blood.”

Simon turned to his mother. “We do have
Esme,” he pointed out.

The duchess laughed. “I tend to forget
that my youngest is female sometimes. But that poor child – with five older
brothers, she’s more likely to turn into a ruffian like the rest of them than
into a proper young lady.”

Papa gazed at the little girl, then looked
back to the duchess, clearly unsure how to respond.

“Now,” the duchess said, “back to the
problem of Sarah. As I told you, she suffered a brutal attack from a thorned
assailant. However, the housekeeper has assured me that the damage is minor. I
am relieved to report to you that the scratches are not deep and, thanks to
Mrs. Hope’s miraculous salve, will not scar, save the one on the knee,
perhaps.”

Papa gave a short nod, then cleared his
throat. “My daughter has a tendency to wander. However, I can assure you that
it will not happen again. She will remain in our cottage from now on.” There
was a note in his voice that promised future discipline, and Sarah cringed
inwardly at the sound of it.

“Oh, but Mr. Osborne, it is natural for
children to wander, to explore their surroundings and to discover. Especially
in an unfamiliar place. I have always encouraged my children to explore to the
extent of their curiosity.”

Papa gaped a little at that, but then he
gathered his wits and bowed his head, clutching his hat to his chest.
“Nevertheless, ma’am, my daughter should not be gallivanting about the grounds
as if she owned them. She will refrain from doing so henceforth.”

The duchess’s expression softened. “Can
you truly expect a child of her age and disposition to sit in that tiny cottage
of yours every day while you go about your duties? No child should be
constrained so, Mr. Osborne.”

Papa glanced toward Sarah again but didn’t
answer. Clearly he wanted to be out of this great house and back to tending his
beloved bushes.

The duchess’s gaze moved from Sarah to her
father, an odd glint in her brown eyes. “Tell me, does Sarah know her letters?”

Papa’s body jolted at the change of topic,
then he straightened a little. “Why, yes, ma’am. Her mother was quite learned –
she was the schoolmistress at the parish’s charity school before we were
married. She taught the girl to read and to write.”

The duchess clasped her long-nailed hands
together in front of her. “Ah! I thought there was something about the way both
of you speak…” Musingly, she turned toward Sarah, who was holding out her arm
to Mrs. Hope while the older woman dabbed salve over a cut on her forearm.
“Would you like to continue your studies, dear?”

Unsure how to respond, Sarah glanced at
Papa. The answer was yes, of course she’d love to learn more. About everything.
Especially the Trojan War Simon had mentioned earlier. If Mama were still
alive, Sarah would run home and beg her to tell her the story right away.

But how would Papa want her to answer?

The duchess followed her gaze. “I see she
turns to you, Mr. Osborne. Well, then, did your daughter enjoy her mother’s
teachings?”

“She did,” Papa admitted reluctantly.
“Very much.”

“Good!” the duchess exclaimed, clapping
her hands. “It’s settled, then.”

Everyone stared at her, including Simon.
“What’s settled, Mother?” he asked.

“Starting tomorrow, Miss Sarah Osborne
will join your brothers in their studies with Miss Farnshaw.”

No one said a word. Sarah watched as her
father’s jaw slowly fell open.

And that was how a gardener’s daughter
ended up being educated with the offspring of a duke.

Chapter
One

Sixteen
Years Later

“Welcome home, Your Grace.”

Simon looked down at the stable hand who’d
taken the reins from him. “Thank you, Tanner. Have my brothers arrived?”

“Yes, sir. All but Lord Lukas.”

Simon ground his teeth as he dismounted.
He shouldn’t be surprised that Luke had ignored him – hell, Simon had sent the
note to his brother’s residence in London not even knowing whether Luke was
there. He could be off carousing in some bawdy house or on one of his drunken
revels. It was possible the directive Simon had sent had never entered his
brother’s hands.

Tanner led the lathered animal toward the
stables as Simon approached the enormous columns that flanked the front door of
the house. It had been almost three years since he’d last visited his ancestral
home, but Ironwood Park hadn’t changed. He hadn’t expected it to. Ironwood Park
never changed.

Mrs. Hope didn’t change, either. She stood
at the top of the steps to welcome him, her face awash with pleasure, looking
the same as she always looked, with her pale skin, rosy cheeks, and white hair
piled high on her head.

A feeling of rightness swept through him.
It was always this way – not Ironwood Park itself but the people who resided
here who made him feel like he’d come home.

“Your Grace,” Mrs. Hope said warmly.
“Welcome home.” And then concern furrowed her brow, and he understood. He was
sorry to be home under these circumstances. Sorry that he was so busy these
days that the only thing that could drive him home was an emergency of this
magnitude.

He took Mrs. Hope’s clasped hands in his
own and squeezed. “Thank you, Mrs. Hope.”

And then Esme appeared behind the
housekeeper, her dress as somber and dark as her hair, and he turned to greet
her.

“Esme. You look well.”

And she did. With a jolt, Simon realized
it had nearly been a year since he’d last seen her. Since then, she’d grown
even taller and filled out with womanhood.

“Thank you,” she murmured, eyes downcast.
“You, too.”

“Come inside, Your Grace,” Mrs. Hope
commanded. “You’ll wish to change before you see your brothers. They have
planned to meet in the parlor before dinner, and dinner will be served in…” She
glanced down at her fob. “Just over an hour.”

Dusk had settled like a soft blanket over
the house – dinner at Ironwood Park was always earlier than in London.
“Excellent,” he said. And to his sister, “I’ll see you in the parlor in a few
minutes.”

She gazed up at him, and it was only then
that he saw the shine in Esme’s eyes. On impulse, he laid his hand on her
shoulder, only to feel her stiffen beneath him. His intention had been to
comfort, but his touch was so unknown to Esme, perhaps it had become unwelcome.
He removed his hand and said in a low voice, “Don’t worry. We’ll find her.”

Esme nodded, her gaze shining, then looked
away, blinking rapidly. At that moment Fredericks appeared in the archway
leading to the grand staircase. After Simon exchanged a greeting with the
steward, Mrs. Hope bustled him upstairs and into his dressing room, where a
basin steamed on the bureau and clothes for him to change into were laid out on
the clothes press.

He washed and shaved himself. The silence
of the room seemed loud after the bustle of London and Burton’s incessant
chatter. Due to the urgency of this visit, he’d left his valet in London,
probably happily fussing over some new outfit he was having tailored for Simon
during his absence.

Simon dressed in buff pantaloons and
buttoned on a wine-striped waistcoat and a dark tailcoat before combing his
hair and gazing into the looking glass at the somber visage staring back at
him. The crow’s feet at the edges of his eyes spoke of his exhaustion – he’d
ridden straight from London at the close of Parliament yesterday, changing
horses but not stopping to sleep. His eyes appeared dull, the green of them not
as light as usual, but dark and mossy.

It was time to face his brothers and
sister and reveal his plan of action. Unfortunate that he didn’t have one.

He left the dressing room and returned
downstairs, taking slow, deliberate steps to the parlor. When he reached the
door, he didn’t hesitate but stepped inside and closed it behind him before
turning to survey the room.

Everyone was present. Except Luke.

Samson, Simon’s older half-brother, leaned
against the casing of the enormous rectangular-paned window on the far side of
the room. Mother had given birth to Sam out of wedlock the year before she
married the Duke of Trent. One of her conditions upon marrying the duke was
that she would be allowed to keep Sam and raise him alongside any other
children she might have. For reasons unknown to Simon, his father had agreed –
he had even given Sam the Hawkins name – and it was one promise he’d never
reneged upon, though he had never gone so far as to treat Sam like a son.

Sam had been gazing outside but turned
toward Simon as he entered. This was the first visit home for Sam in nearly
five years. His work in the service of the Crown kept him busy, though Simon did
see him from time to time in London. Sam had always possessed a serious
demeanor, but the army had hardened him, given him a seemingly permanent cold
and detached expression that Simon expected would never go away now. His
brother had simply seen too much.

Simon’s younger brothers, Theodore and
Markos, sat side by side on the plum-colored silk sofa, their sandy brown heads
and eyes so similar, people had always thought them twins. But they were very
different in disposition. Theo was quiet and studious like Esme, and Mark was
the one person in the family who could bring levity to any conversation. Today,
however, Mark’s face was grim and set, his normal exuberance dampened by the
gravity of the situation.

Simon turned to the table in the center of
the room, where Esme was pouring tea, his gaze finally coming to rest on Sarah
Osborne, who stood at his sister’s side, assisting her.

His body came instantly alive at the sight
of her, even after all this time. Even under the circumstances.
Lust. Desire. Need.
All of it barreled through him
in a hot rush.

Damn. She was more beautiful than ever.

When he’d last come home to Ironwood Park,
he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her. God knew he’d tried.

Her mouth caressing his, the feel of her
body under his hands… It had been three years. He should have forgotten all of
it by now.

But how could he forget the sweetest lips
he’d ever tasted? How could he forget the curve of her bottom, the feel of her
soft, plump breasts under his hands?

How could he forget that he’d taken
advantage of an innocent? Someone who worked in his house, under his employ?
How could he forgive himself for crossing a line he never, ever should have
crossed?

She turned the full force of her wide
smile on him and then dipped her head as she dropped into a curtsy. “Your
Grace.”

“Good evening, Sarah.” He gazed at her,
taking in her dark, dark hair, her black-fringed blue eyes, her porcelain
complexion, her willowy stature, for perhaps a second too long before
forcefully returning his attention to his brothers. “I’m glad you all came so
quickly,” he told them.

“Where’s Luke?” Theo asked. “You wrote to
him as well, didn’t you?”

Taking the china teacup and saucer that
Sarah held out toward him, Simon thanked her then stepped forward. “I did. Evidently
he chose not to respond.”

Everyone was struck silent by that, until
Sam spoke up from his position near the window. “Or he didn’t receive the
missive. We all know how Luke feels about Mother.”

“It’s possible he didn’t receive it,”
Simon acknowledged. It was true – despite all of his shortcomings, Luke adored
their mother. “I wasn’t sure where to find him. You know Luke. He could be
anywhere.”

Theo gave a low whistle as Sarah handed
him and Mark their tea. “Thank you, Sarah. Right. Well, then, it’s just us. But
Luke won’t be happy we met without him.”

Simon arched a brow at his youngest
brother. “He should either visit his lodgings once in a while or let us know
where he is located in the world if he wishes to be privy to important family
news.”

Theo raised his cup. “True.” He took a sip
before setting the cup and saucer down on the oblong carved teak table that
squatted low in front of the sofa.

Simon lowered himself into the
Egyptian-styled bronze and silk-damask empire chair across from Theo and Mark.
He looked at his sister and gestured to the identical chair beside him. “Please
sit, Esme.”

As Esme approached, Sarah set down the
teapot and turned to leave the room.

“Sarah, you will stay.” His tone was
clipped and brooked no argument. He glanced at his brothers. No one reacted to
the out-of-place command, which meant they understood exactly why he wanted
Sarah in the room with them.

This was a family affair, and while most
might dismiss a maid after she’d finished with the tea, this particular maid
had embedded herself so deeply into life at Ironwood Park that she sometimes
knew things that occurred here that none of the rest of them did. His brothers
understood as well as he did that her presence might prove valuable.

Plus… well, damn it, he just liked having
her close. His brothers didn’t need to know that.

“Yes, Your Grace.” Her answer was
automatic, as was her bobbed curtsy. She stayed where she was, standing behind
the silver tea service, attentive but silent.

When he had everyone’s full attention,
Simon turned to his sister.

“Tell us what happened, Esme. We must hear
every detail. From the beginning.”

She nodded. Fixing her gaze on the teak
table and clutching the carved arms of her chair in her hands, she began. “I
don’t see Mama every day anymore – not since she moved into the dower house. So
I don’t know when it happened, but… but… I should have been paying closer
attention. She is my mother. I should have been visiting every day, making sure
she was all right…”

“When was the last time you saw her?”
Sam’s voice, as always, was cool and detached.

Esme’s eyes filled with tears. “A week
ago.”

Simon nodded. “Go on.”

“Well, the day before yesterday I realized
I hadn’t seen her in a few days, so I went to the dower house for a visit. And…”

“And?” Theo prompted, leaning forward, his
elbows on his knees, his eyes narrowing on their sister.

She turned her focus to Theo. “There was
no one at home. Binnie and James weren’t there, and Mama wasn’t there. All
three of them had simply vanished.”

Simon frowned. Binnie and James were the
two servants his mother had taken with her when she’d moved to the dower house.
He hadn’t known they’d also disappeared.

“I knocked and knocked. I tried the door,
but it was locked, and you know Mama rarely ever locks her door. I ran back to
the house and asked Mrs. Hope for the key. Sarah came with me, and we went
inside, but no one was there.”

“Why didn’t you go straight to the
constable?” Mark asked, his brow creased in a rare frown.

“I… I…” Esme broke off, and sent a
helpless glance in Sarah’s direction.

“We thought it best to send His Grace a
message before we involved anyone outside the family,” Sarah explained.
“Because once we contact the authorities, everyone will begin to speculate. We
thought it would be more prudent to allow His Grace to decide whether to
involve them.”

“You made the right decision,” Simon told
her. And he wouldn’t involve the authorities at all in this matter, if he could
help it. Sarah knew him well enough to understand that he preferred to keep
private family matters private, because when it came to the Hawkinses, the
gossipmongers tended to take facts and embellish them to the point of
outlandishness. In any case, he possessed more resources to use to find his
mother than any constable would.

Sam pushed off from the window casing and
took a step forward, his cool gaze focused on Esme. “What was the state of the
interior of the dower house? Was it clean? Ransacked? Were any of Mama’s things
missing?”