War Chest: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 5 (7 page)

Chapter Five

Already Ruth felt an odd feeling of home about this place. Odd because she never felt that way about anywhere, even the house she’d grown up in. This dark, rambling house with few residents suited her mood, but it also fitted her instincts. She had never known such space before, such opportunities for solitude. When she awoke, she left her bed without even considering the matter and was at her washbasin, rinsing in cold water before she was properly awake. Unused to the chill, she was mildly surprised not to find a crop of goose bumps when she passed the sponge over her body.

Then the realisation hit her. She gasped, and goose bumps rose on her skin, though not from cold. Rather, from the memory of last night. He had kissed her, as a man kissed a woman—as if he’d meant it.

She shivered and reached for a clean shift. Nursery maids should always keep themselves clean, for fear of contaminating their delicate charges, but Ruth liked the feel of clean linen against her skin. She possessed precious few indulgences, but this was one of them.

Perusing her new clothes felt almost wicked. She touched the fine fabrics, letting her fingers run over the cloth. Eventually chose a gown of deep green and a petticoat of the same colour. It seemed a shame to fasten her practical white apron around her waist, but she was not here to look beautiful, even if she could.

When she glanced in the mirror above her washbasin, the colour on her cheeks shocked her. She was almost pretty. That would never do. He might take it into his head to kiss her again, and then where would she be?

On her way to being ruined. With her sister’s sad example to recall, Ruth was determined not to take that path. Except—Rhea’s stories made her wonder. Rhea had been a flirt of the first order and had thoroughly enjoyed her exploits, right to the end, including her affair with Marcus.

What would he be like naked? Powerful, no doubt. Would his skin be soft or hard under her hand? Would he rise, as the bulls in the field did, to serve her?

Such crude images sprang into her head, then Ruth clapped a hand over her mouth. Swiftly, she found her most enveloping and plainest white cap. After dragging all her hair back, she wrapped it in an uncompromising knot. When she stabbed her scalp with a hairpin, she welcomed the pain. Served her right for having such wicked thoughts.

Like a bad angel, her conscience whispered in her ear.
Why not? What do you have to lose?

That brought her back down to earth. She snorted as she tied the strings of her decent linen cap under her chin. As if anyone would want her. Marcus—his grace, that was—had probably merely done it to tease her. Still, it was pleasing to know she was not a total drab.

With a swirl of her skirts, Ruth left the room and went into the nursery to attend to her charges.

The scent of hot chocolate assaulted her nostrils, indulgence in a cup. The mill stood on the flagstones next to the hearth and Andrea sat at the table in the small sitting-room, a positive feast laid out for her. “The babies are sleeping, but they’ll be awake soon.”

The remnants of a meal lay on a plate, but to Ruth’s disappointment, little remained. “His grace has asked you to eat with him when you are awake,” Andrea said, as if it was commonplace for a servant to eat with her master.

“I see. Are you all right here for a while?”

“Perfectly.”

Ruth must never forget her position in this household, as she had been in danger of doing last night when he’d kissed her. She could not work here without meeting him ever again. The sooner she approached him and cleared the air, the better. She would demand he did not touch her again in such a way. She had her rights, and she would exercise them.

She left the nursery with her chin in the air and her jaw set. His grace would leap on any weakness, so she must take care not to show any.

This time she only took two wrong turnings before she found the breakfast room. What a pity the duke did not employ more servants, otherwise she could ask them, but as it was, she needed to pass myriad closed doors before she found a corridor she recognised.

She would navigate through the staircases. They appeared to be the one fixed element in the whole arrangement. That and the view through the windows, when she could see them. Maybe she should find herself a compass.

Still smiling at the thought of holding a compass to steer her way through the house, she pushed open a door and found the breakfast room. Although the morning was advanced, the leisured classes tended to eat at this time, or even later. If they rose earlier, they ate a small meal in their rooms.

The duke was sitting at the table in his shirtsleeves. He had not waited for her before beginning his own repast, but breakfast was frequently an informal meal. At home, food was doled out on small plates, as someone once told Ruth’s mother smaller plates made what was on offer look more generous. It did not.

He glanced up, then got to his feet and motioned to a place far too close to his for Ruth’s liking. “Help yourself from the buffet, Miss Carter. Would you like tea or coffee?”

After thinking wistfully of the hot chocolate the nursemaid had received, she answered, “Coffee, please.”

“Ah. You wanted something else? Milk, perhaps?”

“No, sir. Coffee is fine.” She refused to tremble, or to show him anything but the politest of manners, but it cost her to do so.

“You should be more honest. I shall speculate as to what you prefer, since I don’t intend to waste my question for the day on such trivial matters.”

Her mind was in such turmoil, she had forgotten that foolish pact. She must think of something relatively innocuous, so he did not press her too hard in return. Above all she wanted to create distance between them.

Annoyingly, the serving spoon rattled against her plate when she helped herself to some scrambled egg. She took her plate to the table.

He shot a glance at her meal. “Ruth, you will not last until dinnertime if you don’t eat more. You need sustenance. I insist.” He got to his feet and picked up a plate, even though he already had one at his place. She didn’t look around, but heard the chink of spoon on plate. Then he reached over her shoulder, removed the modest helping of scrambled egg and replaced it with a brimming plate of viands. Everything, from devilled kidneys to chops, eggs, ham and bacon was arrayed there. “That is a proper breakfast,” he said.

“I’ll never eat all that!”

“Then leave what you don’t want. The pigs on the home farm will be glad of your leavings.” As he took his seat, he smiled crookedly. “Nothing goes to waste.”

“I’m glad to hear it, sir.” Ruth took up her knife and fork and attacked her food. After her third mouthful, she laid her cutlery neatly on the plate. “I don’t wish to keep you, sir.”

“I have nothing better to do.” He picked up the folded newspaper that lay by the side of his plate. “Shall I read to you?”

“I could not possibly—” What? Impose on him? If he wanted to, she could hardly ask him to desist.

“As I said.” He shot her a sharp glance over the top of the paper. Shaking it out, he scanned the page. “This is the court page. Utterly tedious, but perhaps you enjoy hearing of the acts of the frivolous. In any case, most of society is out of town. Apparently the king is once again indisposed.” He glanced at her.

Ruth pretended not to notice and continued to eat as he summarised the court page for her. Even she had heard of some of the people listed. It was as if the night before had not happened, that he had not met her in a state of undress and stolen the most devastating kiss she’d ever experienced in her life. Not that she had much to compare it with, but still, she couldn’t imagine anything else affecting her more.

No more kisses. She could not bear it. It appeared the duke did not want to revisit his action. That was just as well, because she certainly didn’t. Her teeth closed over her fork, jarring her.

“Ruth?”

Even his use of her name kept her on edge. Forcing a tight smile, she glanced at him, and then away. “Sir?”

“Please don’t do this.”

“What?” She was doing her best to behave properly.

“Don’t hold back.”

Shock rippled through her. He could not mean…? Why not, since he’d seduced her sister? Only the fact that he had taken the children in reconciled her to his treatment of her. She had begun to believe he was misunderstood, but he had kissed her, and had he wanted more?

With sparks of anger rippling along her veins, she put her knife and fork on her plate, ignoring the clatter. “Sir, I think you assume more than I ever meant. Perhaps I am better remaining in the nursery wing. Or leaving this house.”

The thought of quitting this early sent her into despair, but she ignored it and allowed the anger to ride her. “I am a respectable woman.” She pressed her hands on the table, preparing to rise and leave with as much dignity as she could.

He prevented her by putting his much larger hand over hers. “You misunderstand me,” he said quietly. “If I offended you, then I apologise for it. I meant no disrespect.”

When she stiffened, he should have removed his hand, but he did not. She contented herself with glaring.

“What I need is a friend. I have none here, nobody I can talk to. I’m riven by—something. I can’t sleep, I have no respite except when you are here. Why that should be I don’t know, except you are the only person who speaks to me.”

“Everyone speaks to you.”

His eyes flashed. “Do not wilfully misunderstand me. You respond, you give me an opinion, even if it differs from my own.”

“You could find many such in London.”

He swallowed. “I don’t want to return there for a while. Matters are not good. If you will agree to be my friend, then I will promise to treat you with respect. I swear it. Let us be relatives in kind, if not in truth.” He gazed at her so earnestly she could barely think.

Had he said that to poor Rhea? Ruth was so confused she didn’t know who to believe. She knew the question she needed to ask. “Then why take the babies if they are not yours?”

His eyes widened. “Where did that come from?”

Surmising she had nothing to lose, she dared to ask. If she was leaving, which seemed likely, then she would satisfy her curiosity. She was happy the babies were cared for, so she could leave them to his care. Or so she told herself. Her parents would not have done as much.

“I wondered,” she said lamely.

With his hand still over hers, he gazed at her, narrowing his eyes. “Did you know Rhea Simpson?”

Such perspicacity deserved some kind of answer. “Once,” she said, not precisely a lie, but not the whole truth. She did not feel guilty. Not at all, not one bit.

“I see. So you are concerned for her?”

“Yes.” At least she didn’t need to lie about that.

“I told you the truth. I promised to tell you the truth, did I not?” When she nodded, he continued, “The children are not mine, that much is true. Society assumes they are. I contacted her parents, but they did not respond. I confess I didn’t expect them to. Rhea was in disgrace, for which I’m very sorry, but it was not my doing. Since society assumes they are my bastards, I might as well treat them properly. Can you imagine the opprobrium I would receive?” He snorted with derision. “I possess the means. They scarcely make a dent. I will not treat them as my sons, though, because they are not.”

“Was that today’s question?” Only when she’d said it did she realise she had somehow accepted she was staying. His explanation rang with truth. Either the children weren’t his, or he truly did not believe they were. In which case he’d done the right thing. “Do you care so much what society thinks of you?”

“No, that is not today’s question, and no, I do not care what society thinks of me.” Again, he answered without thought. “However, others do. One day I will marry, and my wife might care. Although if I was to swear off marriage, that might prove an asset.”

He still kept his hand over hers. She should withdraw it, but the inclination to do so somehow left her. “Will you do that?”

When he removed his hand, she felt deprived. Or—what was he saying? That he did not wish for a wife? Men who didn’t marry generally came in two varieties. The ones that were too interested in women, and the ones who were not interested in the other sex at all.

He grinned. “I’m in no hurry, but I am bearing the prospect in mind. I have no heir, so I need to provide for the estate.”

She was still left wondering. In many ways she would prefer the second option. The first made him too dangerous and her too vulnerable. Because she would not deny she was attracted to him. “You are short of female friends. Forgive me if I don’t quite believe you.”

His grin widened. “Emphasis on the friend. I would like someone to talk with, someone to listen and give their opinion instead of agreeing with everything I say. You are intelligent enough to understand where we must draw the line, are you not?”

“If you say so.” He had drawn her in again. “Sir.”

The grin turned into a laugh. “Please, do not stop. Will you stay?”

“Yes.” Because she had little choice. She’d made her decision when she left the house she’d been born in, turned her back on everything her parents offered, which was little enough. They had offered security. Now she had none. If she left here, she would need to seek another position, with her forged character references.

But she had one more question she needed to ask. “I also read of a scandal concerning you.” His affair with a French duchesse had been public and shocking, even for jaded Londoners. She could not pretend to be ignorant of it. Many reports made him seem priapic. She needed to know she was not opening herself up to sexual attack.

What she’d seen of him and the reports she’d read made him seem like a different version. He had always shown her respect, even when he’d stolen that kiss. He could have taken her then, but he walked away. None of the servants complained about him, either.

He pinched the bridge of his nose before he answered her, as if warding off a headache. “What happened between Virginie and myself was unusual behaviour for me. I was enchanted.” He paused. He didn’t sound enchanted now. “We were both infected with a madness. She is now married to someone else and believe me, I do not look for a replacement.”