The Dutiful Duke Read online

  "As was I, my lady." Wyatt turned his shoulder on the captain in a deliberate slight. "I only learned of her existence a sennight ago, but we are fast becoming old friends now that she is with me."

  "How old is she?" Lady Geoffrey's eager interest betrayed the real reason they had sought him out. "No one knows a thing about her, and since you keep her locked up in that house of yours, I fear we are left to draw our own conclusions. You would not believe the whispers that were first being spread," she added, tilting her head to one side as she issued a challenging smile.

  Wyatt met her smile with a look of stony implacability. "Amanda is six, my lady," he said, his voice as glacial as his eyes. "As for my keeping her locked up, I had no idea I was so cruel. Perhaps I could bring her to your home so she might meet your children? I believe you have a daughter her age?"

  Lady Geoffrey's smug smile was replaced by a look of irritation. "My daughter is but five," she snapped, obviously annoyed by this reference to the fact that she was a mother. "And my son is two. Naturally they are in the country with their nurse."

  "Naturally." Wyatt allowed himself a faint smile before turning to the countess. "And what of your children, my lady?" he asked with a smooth innocence that fooled no one. "Are they also in the country with their nurse?"

  Lady Anne's outraged expression was a perfect mirror of her twin's. "I have but one child, Your Grace," she informed him haughtily, "and neither the earl nor myself would dream of exposing him to the dangers of London air. Now, if you will excuse us, I fear we must be going. Come Alexandria, Katie," and she dug her heels into her horse's side, sending the little animal bolting forward.

  "A charming lady," Ambrose observed wryly, his blond eyebrows arching as he watched the small group gallop off. "A family trait, I gather?"

  "Apparently," Wyatt replied, already dismissing the countess and her poisonous twin from his mind. "Although Lady Catherine seemed most pleasant."

  "How could you tell?" Ambrose asked with a laugh. "The chit had scarce five words to say for herself. Although," he added thoughtfully, "I suppose it would be difficult to get a word in at all in that litter of tabbies."

  They continued the rest of the ride in companionable silence, and after promising to meet Ambrose at his club later that afternoon Wyatt returned to his own home. He was handing his gloves and hat to the butler when a girlish laugh echoed in the hall. He turned to look just as Amanda came whooshing down the carved banister, a look of delight and terror on her face. When she saw Wyatt standing in the entryway, she waved in excitement.

  "I did it, Uncle Wyatt, I did it!" she crowed. "I slid all the way down, clear from the top!"

  The paralysis of fear that had held Wyatt broke, and he dashed across the marble floor to snatch his niece from the railing. "Amanda!" he cried, anxiously searching her for any sign of injury. "Are you all right? You might have been killed!"

  "Oh, pooh!" Amanda gave a pretty laugh, her arms resting comfortably about her uncle's broad shoulders. "You must try it, Uncle. It is ever so much fun."

  Wyatt imagined the little girl falling from the top of the grand staircase and tried not to shudder. "Where is Miss Pringle?" he asked ominously, only to have his question answered when Miss Pringle also came flying down the banister, her blue skirts tucked about her legs. The starched cap she always wore was askew, as were her wire-rimmed spectacles, but it was the sight of her slender ankles and calves that drew his attention. Her curved backside collided with the newel post, and he took a moment to admire it before raising cold eyes to her flushed face.

  The sight of the duke standing there with Amanda in his arms drove the smile of triumph from Nia's lips. "Oh dear!" she said, reaching up to straighten the spectacles.

  Wyatt handed Amanda to the butler, who had materialized beside him. He then lifted Miss Pringle from the banister, ignoring her awkward attempts to free herself. When he had her safely on her feet he stepped back, his eyes holding hers. "If you would be so good as to escort Lady Amanda to her rooms, I should like to see you in my study," he said, his voice carefully controlled. "Shall we say in five minutes?"

  Rather than flushing with shame or bursting into tears at his haughty tones, Miss Pringle merely nodded. "Five minutes, Your Grace," she said formally. "Come, Amanda." She held out her hand to the little girl and led her up the stairs they had just descended so precipitously.

  Wyatt went into his study, crossing the carpeted floor to where the cellaret stood. He poured himself a glass of sherry and downed it in a single gulp, the cloying taste of the pale wine making his face screw up in protest. When he'd finished the second glass, he set the goblet down with a thump and stalked over to stare down at the fire burning in the grate.

  Lord, he thought, thrusting a shaking hand through his hair, he had never been so frightened in his life. Each time he thought of Amanda clinging to that narrow piece of wood three floors above a hard marble floor, and what would have happened had she lost her grip, his blood ran cold. She might have been killed, he raged silently, or crippled at the very least. He had no idea what the devil Miss Pringle meant by encouraging such a stunt, but he meant to find out.

  He was contemplating what he would say to her when there was a tap on the door and Miss Pringle entered. "You wished to see me, sir?" she asked, her tone defiant as she met his gaze.

  All of the cold, succinct comments he had rehearsed fled from Wyatt's mind as he glared at her. "Just what the bloody hell did you think you were doing?" he demanded, his good manners lost with his temper. "Amanda might have been killed!"

  Nia's resolve faltered at the note of panic in his voice. Arrogance and temper were things she could have easily fought, but the genuine terror she saw burning in his dark eyes was another matter. She'd come into the room fully prepared to do battle, but now she found herself wanting to comfort him instead.

  "I know it must have looked dangerous, Your Grace," she said soothingly, taking a cautious step toward him, "but I promise you the risk to Amanda was minimal at best. You must know I would never allow her to come to any harm."

  "And how do you know what the risk was?" he snapped, his jaw clenched with anger.

  "Because I tested it myself before letting her try."

  Wyatt blinked at her. "You what?"

  "I tested it myself before letting her try. I knew she was going to do it anyway," she added when he continued to stare at her in disbelief. "I'd already caught her trying twice before, and I knew it was only a matter of time before she succeeded. I thought that if I went first, showed her how best to do it, the danger wouldn't be so great."

  "But Amanda came down first," he protested, his heart lurching at the memory.

  Nia cleared her throat, her cheeks pinking with embarrassment. "That was my second time," she admitted, lowering her eyes to the floor.

  Wyatt stared at her another moment, and then incredibly, he was laughing. "Miss Pringle, if all governesses are like you, then I am eternally grateful I have yet to meet another one," he said, shaking his head in wonder. "I do not think my nerves could stand the strain."

  Nia glanced up, not certain she had heard right. "You aren't angry with me, Your Grace?" she asked, scarce believing her luck. "You won't dismiss me?"

  "I am furious with you," Wyatt informed her, although his voice lacked conviction. "But no, I shan't dismiss you. Not unless you try another stunt like that, that is," he added quickly. "No more sliding down banisters for either Amanda or you, ma'am. I mean it."

  Nia's shoulders slumped with relief. "Yes, Your Grace," she promised, her eyes earnest as they met his. "I shall speak to Amanda, and—"

  "No," he interrupted, raising his hand. "I shall have a word with her. It is about time she and her poor uncle came to an understanding regarding her stay here."

  Nia wanted to continue debating, but decided not to press the issue. She was wise enough to know she'd tried her luck enough for one day. Lord Tilton had won the field this day, but next time, perhaps, it would be she who emerged victoriou
s. And there would be a next time, she admitted as she left the study. Given both their stubborn and willful natures, future skirmishes were inevitable, and she knew it was only a matter of time before they crossed swords once more.

  The prospect should have alarmed her. Instead she was looking forward to it.

  Chapter 5

  Over the next few days Wyatt found himself remembering Lady Geoffrey's accusations. Her charge that he kept Amanda locked away stung, all the more so because he feared she was right. In the fortnight since Amanda had been in his care he'd not so much as taken her for a drive, and the realization of his neglect made him squirm. He also recalled he'd promised to show her Carlton House, and decided it was time he kept his word.

  The next morning he strode into the schoolroom only to find his niece and her governess had already left for the day. "Did they say where they were going?" he demanded, scowling at the nursemaid who stood in front of him ringing her hands.

  "T-to the park, Your Grace," Nancy stammered, her heart pounding at the fearsome look on the duke's face. "They was going to s-study the flowers."

  "Which park?" he asked, making an effort to control his impatience. "There are several of them, you know."

  Nancy's pale eyes filled with tears. "I don't know, sir," she confessed, certain he would dismiss her on the spot. "M-Miss Pringle didn't say."

  Surmising he would get nowhere by terrorizing the hapless maid, he went in search of Johns, hoping his butler would be slightly better informed. He was not disappointed.

  "I believe they have gone to Green Park, my lord," Johns said with a low bow. "Miss Pringle inquired where one might find the best selection of flora, and I recommended the park. Is there some problem?" he added at his employer's look of displeasure.

  "Only that she neglected to inform me of her plans," Wyatt replied grimly. "When did they leave?"

  "Approximately half an hour ago, Your Grace. I sent William, one of our footmen, with them as I did not feel it proper for Lady Amanda to go out without proper escort. They were," he added with a disapproving sniff, "walking."

  Wyatt's jaw clenched in fury, and after thanking Johns for his assistance he went outside where his crested carriage was waiting. Less than five minutes later he was at Green Park, but it was another ten minutes before he succeeded in tracking down his quarry. He found them sitting on a stone bench, studiously examining a dusty and forlorn rose.

  "As you can see, Amanda, William, the petals are almost symmetrical," Miss Pringle was saying, indicating the rose's drooping blossom with the tip of her slender finger. "This is but one example of how one might find mathematical precision in nature. Another might be—"

  "Uncle!" Amanda was the first to spy Wyatt, and she lost no time in racing to his side. "Have you come to look at the roses, too?" she demanded, tilting her head to gaze up at him.

  "Actually, I've come to take you for a ride in my carriage," he replied, brushing back a strand of blond hair that lay on her cheek. "I did promise to show you the prince's house, remember?"

  Amanda's eyes widened in delight. "Will I meet the prince?"

  "I am afraid not," Wyatt apologized. "But perhaps we might catch a glimpse of him as we drive by."

  "Miss Pringle! I am going to see a prince!" Amanda ran back to where Nia was standing.

  "So I hear," she said, raising her head to study the duke. He was standing on the stone pathway looking darkly handsome in a blue velvet jacket and tight, buff nankins, his cravat knotted beneath his lean jaw. That jaw, she noted, was clenched with temper, and she wondered what she'd done to anger him this time. Suppressing a resigned sigh, she gave him a polite nod.

  "Good morning, Your Grace," she said, her tone wary but respectful. "I hadn't thought to find you here."

  "Nor I you, Miss Pringle," Wyatt returned, capturing her hazel gaze. "You may imagine my surprise when Johns informed me you and Amanda had left the house without my knowledge."

  Nia flushed, belatedly recalling she'd promised to keep him apprised of her and Amanda's movements. She was about to offer a stiff apology, but the duke had already turned to William.

  "You may return home," he said, slipping a coin into the footman's hand. "And when either Lady Amanda or Miss Pringle leave the house, you are to accompany them. Is that clear?"

  "Yes, Your Grace!" William said, blushing with gratitude. "You can count on me, sir. I'll keep my peepers on 'em!"

  "I'm sure you shall." Wyatt gave him a warm smile. "Go on now, lad, and tell Mr. Johns we shall be home for luncheon."

  After William had rushed off, Wyatt glanced down at Amanda, taking in her appearance with a thoughtful frown. Like her governess his niece was wearing a plain cloak of blue wool, her hair stuffed beneath an even plainer white cap. He thought of the other children he had passed while walking through the park, and realized they'd all been dressed in velvets and furs.

  "Where is your other cape, Amanda?" he asked, taking care to keep any hint of censure from his voice. "That one doesn't look very warm."

  "Oh, it's warm enough." Amanda dismissed the matter with an indifferent shrug. "And I haven't got another cape."

  A sharp pain knifed through Wyatt at this further proof of his neglect. "I see," he said, striving for calm. "Perhaps we shall buy you one when we are out today. Would you like that?"

  Amanda gave another shrug. "All right," she said, not really interested. "But I'd much rather have a doll . . . or a book," she added, her eyes taking on a thoughtful gleam. "One about balloons, if I may."

  "Your birthday is at the end of next month," Nia interposed quickly, recognizing the adventurous sparkle in her pupil's eyes. "Perhaps you might receive a book then."

  Wyatt gave her a sharp look. "I hardly think purchasing a doll and a book at the same time will put me in dun territory, Miss Pringle," he said coldly. "My pockets are deep enough to bear the expense, I assure you."

  Nia's lips tightened at the subtle rebuke. "I didn't mean to imply they weren't, my lord," she said, struggling to control her temper. "I was but making an observation."

  Wyatt made no reply, although the look he shot her spoke volumes. He glanced down at Amanda, whose amethyst eyes had lost their shine. "Are you ready to go, poppet?" he asked, giving her an encouraging smile. "I brought my special carriage with me. It has a team of coal-black horses, and my crest is painted on the side. Everyone who sees you in it will know you are riding with a duke, and they shall be green with envy."

  Amanda frowned thoughtfully. "Even Timothy Shanks?"

  "Especially Timothy Shanks." Wyatt gave her nose a gentle tweak. "Now let us be off. There is a great deal I wish to show you."

  As promised, Wyatt had the coachman take them past the elegant stone edifice that was Carlton House. Amanda gave the building a critical stare before dismissing it with a sniff. "I don't see any onions," she said when Wyatt asked what was wrong. "You said there would be onions," she added, shooting Nia a reproving look.

  Nia was puzzled at first, and then she gave a reluctant laugh. "I believe she is talking about the regent's pavilion at Brighton, Your Grace," she explained. "And the dome is not built of onions, Amanda," she added with a smile. "It is merely said to resemble one."

  "Well, I do not see why anyone should want to live in a house like that," the little girl responded with a disgruntled pout. "It must be ever so ugly. Yours is much prettier, Uncle."

  "Thank you, Amanda. Although you'd best take care not to repeat such things in public. The prince may take offense and clap you in the Tower."

  After driving about Carlton House, Wyatt ordered the carriage to proceed down Bond Street, and the sight of all the shops had Amanda's nose glued to the window of the carriage. While she was preoccupied with looking her fill, Wyatt motioned for Miss Pringle to sit beside him.

  "I thought it was agreed you would see to her wardrobe," he said in a low voice once she had joined him. "How is it that she has but one cloak to her name?"

  Nia felt her cheeks burn in embarrassment. "I have
been researching the matter, Your Grace," she said, hating the fact that he should think her failing in her responsibilities. "And I hope to have a modiste selected by the end of next week."

  "Researching the matter?" Wyatt's eyebrows arched at the unexpected reply. "You hire a modiste and order up a wardrobe, and that is the end of it. What else is there to consider?"

  Such masculine simplicity left Nia gaping at him in annoyance. "There is a great deal more to consider, sir!" she protested, keeping her voice soft with an effort. "One must think of fashion, and practicality, to say nothing of economy!"

  "Economy?"

  Nia gritted her teeth at the incredulity in his voice. "I'm well aware that you aren't a poor man," she said, pushing her spectacles back on her nose, "but that is no reason to throw good money after bad. If I went to a modiste and gave her carte blanche to sew up whatever she pleased, I'd soon find myself rolled up horse, gun, and blanket. How am I to teach Amanda financial responsibility if I do not practice it myself?"

  "Financial responsibility?" Wyatt was so stunned he forgot to keep his voice low. "Good Lord, ma'am, she is six years old!"

  "One is never too young to start learning." Nia stuck to her guns with dogged determination. "I would be failing in my duties if I neglected that aspect of her education."

  Wyatt could only shake his head, wondering what the devil he had got himself into. "Just see to it." He sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Preferably before it is time to research buying her a wedding gown."

  Nia lifted her chin at his sarcasm, but when she would have replied Amanda gave a delighted cry. "Uncle Wyatt, what is that place?"

  Wyatt glanced at the building she indicated. "That is Ackermann's," he said, his ill humor forgotten at the look on his niece's face. "Would you like to go inside?"

  Amanda assured him there was nothing she would like more, and they were soon walking down the wide aisles, gawking at the stunning array of merchandise. Nia was particularly intrigued by the colorful fabrics on display, and stopped to finger an ell of turquoise satin.