Strathmere's Bride (13 page)

“Ho, Miss Pesserat!” he called, trotting up behind her. Chloe turned. “Ah, I see the good sheriff is busy gathering clues. Picked your brain, has he?”

“He merely asked me to relate the facts,” she replied. She didn’t particularly like Gerald, but after her initial aversion she had come to view him as harmless. He was no threat. Indeed, he had made it a point to be friendly, which was a welcome change from the rancor with which she had met at Strathmere thus far.

“Any theories on who the culprit could be?” he inquired.

“A thief, it is believed.”

He nodded sagely. “The rascals are everywhere.”

“If you will excuse me, I am already late.”

“One more moment, if you please. I wanted to tell you that I have spoken to my aunt on behalf of the children with regard to the matter of the kitten.” Puffing up his chest, he pronounced, “It was not easy, but I have gotten her to agree.”

Chloe was truly delighted with this news. “Really?
Mon Dieu,
but this is wonderful. The children shall be so happy. Thank you, sir.”

“I thought perhaps we could go together, the four of us, to pick out the new pet. What do you say?”

“Oh,
monsieur,
the kittens are too young to be separated from their mother just yet. It will be several weeks before one can be taken.”

He was visibly disappointed. “Drat. I was rather fond of my good deed and am impatient to see its reward. I hate to be kept waiting.”

Chloe giggled. “The children shall find it impossible, as well. No doubt they will pester me a thousand times a day with wanting to know if it is time yet to bring it home.”

“I was under the impression that the little one doesn’t speak.”

“Sarah. Yes, it is true, but she makes her will known in other ways. Strongly.”

“Ah, I see.”

A new voice cut in. “What do you see, Gerald?”

They turned to find Jareth standing only a few feet from them. He had his arms crossed over his chest, and his expression looked as if he had just caught them pilfering wine from the cellars.

“We were speaking about the children,” Gerald explained.

“I was not aware that you were interested in the children.”

He pinned his cousin with his icy stare. His dark eyes had gone cold and hard and his angular face set in stern lines. She felt a tremor of response snake up her spine, touching off a slow burn in the pit of her stomach. For all his severity, he looked so handsome just now, she felt the strength drain out of her knees.

Gerald merely chuckled, as if Jareth’s comment pleased him somehow, and excused himself.

“I see you are up and about, your grace,” Chloe said. “Your injuries do not trouble you?”

“I have many troubles,
mademoiselle,
but other than a little stiffness and some bruising, my physical health is not one of them.”

“Excellent.”

“What were you and my cousin talking about?”

“He has received your mother’s permission for the children to keep a pet kitten.”

Jareth snorted. “He was always able to charm her. I believe he could procure her permission for his horse to be stabled in the front parlor if he put his mind to it.” He peered more closely at her. “See to it he doesn’t turn your head with his idle ways.”

Chloe drew herself into a rigid posture.
“Certainement.”

He nodded, apparently satisfied, and waved his hand at her. “You may go.”

Oh, how she wanted to slap his smug face when he was like this,
The Duke,
through and through. She did not, of course, nor did she say anything to the imperious dismissal. However, she did allow a touch
of insolence to color her movements as she turned and headed up the stairs.

Jareth watched her go, his mood darkening, if that were possible. The swing of her hips was deliberate, he was sure, but not to entice. It was meant to convey insouciance.

The minx should straighten her manners if she were wise, because he was not in a mood to be trifled with. After being set upon last night, he had had a fitful night’s sleep, his mind besieged with all manner of images of that infernally irritating woman stretched out on top of him and conversing with him as easily as if they had been seated at dinner. Then this morning, immediately after his meeting with the sheriff, he had been informed that one of his servants had behaved in a manner unbecoming to her position, and he had had to dismiss her.

But by far, coming upon Gerald and Chloe was the most distressing thing yet. This puzzled him, for while he was not fond of Gerald, he could certainly find no fault in his showing kindness to Chloe. Except that Gerald often delighted in stirring up trouble.

With a bit of surprise, Jareth realized he was jealous of Gerald. Gerald still had his freedom. Freedom to come to Strathmere if he wished, or to winter in Rome or Florence or the south of France. Freedom to while away his days hunting in the forests, his greatest love.

Freedom to pursue an upper servant, for example, an enchanting, exasperating, invigorating sprite with a French accent and a smile to light up the heavens more beautifully than any constellation.

A
s soon as she stepped into the nursery, Chloe was set upon by a tearful, trembling Mary.

“Chloe, I need to speak with you,” the maid said in a rush, looking over to where the children played with a plump servant who was just barely out of childhood herself.

“Of course. Bette, would you mind staying a bit longer?” Chloe asked.

“No, miss. I enjoy the children. They’re a pleasant break from my chores.”

“Thank you.” She pulled her distraught Mary along with her into her bedroom and shut the door.

“Oh, Chloe, he sacked me!” Mary sobbed. “Someone must have told him I was in the stables. He warned me to stay away from there, stay away from Daniel, but I couldn’t! I love Daniel. How can I keep away from him? My heart breaks when a day goes by without seeing him.”

Chloe was horrified. “Of course you should not be forbidden to see your love. What did the duke say?”

“He called me in this morning. He was terribly
angry. He said he knew I disobeyed him, and he dismissed me then and there.”

“But who told him you were seeing Daniel?”

“I don’t know.” Her face held a question, and Chloe reacted.

“You do not think that I told him about the other day when I saw you in the stables, do you?”

“No, no! I do not know what to think.”

“It must be someone who is jealous of you. Another servant, perhaps, who wants Daniel for herself and so would like you gone?”

Mary paused and sniffed. “Oh, what difference does it make? I shall be in disgrace to return home after being dismissed, and how will I ever find another position?”

Chloe grabbed her hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze. “There is no disgrace, Mary. Never let him do that to you. Never let him take away your love. It is a wonderful thing.”

“Why would he do this?” Mary wailed, collapsing into sobs.

Chloe sighed. “I have no answers for you. The duke is a man whose soul is dying. He is good, I believe—a part of him is good. But that part is losing the battle. Perhaps because he can’t have love in his life, he wants to destroy it in others.”

Mary was so amazed, she stopped crying. “How do you know him so well?”

Chloe fetched a handkerchief from her pocket and handed it to her. “I know nothing about him. Nothing at all.”

Jareth was speaking to his mother—in fact he was in the middle of a sentence—when the pocket doors
to the front parlor were thrown open.

Mouth still open, he turned to find Chloe standing in the doorway.

The bottom fell out of his heart. She looked magnificent. A deep blush stained her cheeks, her hair was in wild disarray about her face. Like Diana fresh from the hunt.

Dumbfounded, everyone in the room was silent.

“May I speak with you, your grace?” she said. Her voice had an edge.

He shut his mouth and frowned.

“Strathmere,” his mother hissed. A little reminder not to be led about by this slip of a thing. He didn’t even look at the duchess when he said, “It’s all right, Mother. I shall speak to Miss Chloe in the hall.” He tried to sound threatening. “After all, I know the matter must be of strident urgency to necessitate such a startling interruption.”

Chloe’s chin came up. “It is, I assure you.”

His mother’s glare of displeasure burned into his back as he stepped outside. “Shall we?” he asked Chloe, leading her across the hallway and into the library.

The heavy oak door had just clicked shut when she was upon him.

“How dare you!”

“Pardon me?” he asked, his voice lowering to convey his ire. “Do keep your head, Miss Chloe. You have a tendency to forget to whom you are talking.”

“A man with a bloated sense of his own self-importance, that is who! I cannot believe you have done this terrible thing.”

“I should ask what terrible thing I’ve done, but you see, I hardly care.”

“Yes,” she snapped with a wry twist of her mouth. “That is precisely what is wrong in this household. You do not care about anything or anyone save yourself and your whims.”

“Miss Chloe,” he began, struggling with the urge to shout, “if anyone else spoke to me in this manner, I would dismiss them without another word.”

“Ah, your answer to all your problems with your staff. Dismiss people if they displease you. My goodness, I think you will be toasting your own bread in the morning and making your own bed if you keep it up at this rate.”

“Is that what this is all about? You are angry because I dismissed a maid?”

“That maid has a name. It is Mary Curran. She also has a life beyond fetching your slippers and wiping the dust from your fine furniture. She has a family who depends on her income to make ends meet. She has a mother and a father who are proud of her, or were before you sent her home in disgrace. She had plans and dreams for her life, and yes,
monsieur,
it is true that she has a love. A nice gentleman, one of your grooms, a man named Daniel. Why this offends you so greatly, I cannot imagine, but it seems perfectly natural that a young woman and a young man would be attracted to each other, and therefore seek each other’s company in their free moments.”

“I need not explain myself to you,” he said with a flick of his wrist, and began to walk away. She stepped in front of him to block his path.

“No, you need no one, do you, your grace? You are completely self-contained, secure in the smug
knowledge that you are superior in every way to we simple folk of the lower classes. Why, you even have the right to dictate our lives.”

“I cannot have my servants sneaking off on trysts when they should be about their appointed duties! Or do you suggest I create Strathmere as a love nest, a pretty retreat for servants who wish to spend time with their beloveds?”

“Why do you mock love?” she demanded. “Is it because you have had so little of it in your life?”

He looked appalled. “You don’t know what you are saying. I never lacked for love.”

“Then your parents and mentors cannot be blamed. Was it a woman, then, who rejected you and so soured you on any
affaire de coeur?
”

He snarled at her, baring his teeth in a feral grimace. “I simply dismissed the girl because she was exercising poor judgment. And this might come as a shock to you, Miss Chloe, but I don’t require your permission to do it.”

“Yes, you are the Duke of Strathmere. You answer to no authority other than the king himself, so far above the rest of us are you.”

“Your French idealism is showing. Shall you gather a mob and haul me to a guillotine?”

Chloe’s spine went rigid. “I am not proud of the barbarism of the revolution, but I am most pleased with the result. We are a free country where no man is held prisoner by another because of his station.”

“So you wish to reform me?”

Her hands had curled into fists at her sides, and she jammed them now on her hips. “You are already being reformed, right out of your humanity. The days spent with your new title bring you closer and closer
to this—a thoughtless brute who has given no thought to the consequences of your actions. Servants, your grace, may not count for anything to you, but they are human, equipped with all the emotion and power of thought you yourself possess. Your disregard for them speaks ill of you.”

She took a step back, seeming relaxed after her tirade. “I would have thought you already knew that,” she added. “But they have been working on you. You are a credit to the aristocracy. But you are becoming a small person—small of heart and small of mind. It is the price you pay for your exalted station.” She shook her head. “What a terrible shame.”

He was speechless after that, mostly because it was true. It hit him like a blow, stunning him while she made a fabulous whirl and stalked out of the room. It was like a double blow, her words and then that lovely gracefulness.

When she had gone, he paced about the room. He hated himself for allowing her words to gather in his brain. What did it matter what his nieces’ governess’s opinion of him was? Strange that it annoyed him.

Because Chloe’s opinion mattered a great deal to him. That he knew as he went back into the parlor. But he didn’t like it.

His mother was waiting, her face lined with tension. “May I be so presumptuous as to inquire what that little scene was about, Strathmere?”

He hated being called that by her. It sounded so formal, so limiting, as if all he was to anyone anymore was the duke. “No, Mother, you may not.” He sat down and made no pretense of politeness.

Narrowing her eyes, she said, “I hope you are not
faltering in your station. You allow that woman too much latitude.”

The irony didn’t escape him. One woman just berated him for taking his position and title too seriously, and here was another denouncing him for not taking it seriously enough. He sighed.

“Your father or your brother would never have permitted a servant to speak to them in that insolent and forward manner, no matter what the crisis.”

Jareth rubbed his temple. “I know what is expected of me.”

The duchess looked doubtful. “You haven’t been demonstrating it of late. I tell you, Strathmere, it has not escaped others’ notice, as well. Lady Rathford has questioned your intentions toward Helena in light of your delay.”

“They have complaint against me, as well. Devil take it, Mother—why not? Let’s bring up the housekeeper and butler and they, too, can regale me of my failings.”

“You are being impertinent to your mother, and even a duke may not do that. Now, you have a duty to the duchy to marry.”

“Yes, my duty.” It always came down to that.

“When the solicitors return next Monday, you may wish to speak with them about a marriage contract. I believe Lord Rathford is anxious to settle on the matter with you.”

“Will you excuse me?”

“But where are you going? We have many other things to discuss.”

He didn’t answer. On his way out of the room, he almost ran into Gerald, who was coming in. The duchess saw him and called, “Come to me, Gerald.
My son has abandoned me, but your company is amusing. We shall play whist. It will keep me occupied until Strathmere is feeling better. It seems that thief last night got the best of him.”

The tone, more than the words, was scathing. Gerald looked at Jareth and hiked up his brows as if to convey the silent message,
Interesting.

Jareth left him, filled with disgust at the two of them, both schemers.

He was certain that if either one of them could dispossess him of his title, they just might do it, each for their own reasons.

And then he thought if there was a way to do it—leaving him alive, of course, and more important
free
—he might just allow it.