Dukes Are Forever Read online

  He stalked toward her, each step fluid and silent, and she was struck by how much he reminded her of a panther, gracefully hunting. Which meant, she realized with a hard swallow, that she was his prey.

  He stopped in front of her and folded his arms across his broad chest. “Even if it takes weeks.”

  “Weeks?” she squeaked.

  “Weeks,” he repeated firmly as fire glowed in the black depths of his eyes. “Like it or not, angel, thanks to your father, we’re stuck with each other.”

  Without waiting for a reply, he reached around her for the door, shoved it open, and strode out.

  * * *

  Edward stood with tried patience while Arthur undressed him. As he’d anticipated, the old man was more bother than help as he removed the jacket from Edward’s shoulders, brushed it off, then discovered that there was nowhere to place it in the sparsely furnished bedroom. No armoire, no adjoining dressing room—not even a hook.

  “Just hang it on the bedpost,” Edward offered at the butler’s befuddlement, doing his best to muffle his exasperation.

  “Yes, Your Grace.” Arthur hung the jacket. “You’ll forgive us, sir, for not having a proper room for you. We weren’t expecting guests.”

  “It’s fine.” During his army days, he’d slept in much worse. This empty room was a luxury compared to nights sleeping among rats in the mud.

  Arthur tried to unbutton the waistcoat next, but the old butler’s arthritic hands shook so badly that he could barely grasp the buttons.

  “I can get that,” Edward assured him, but when he saw a dejected look cross the gray brows, he added, “but I need help with my boots.”

  “Certainly, sir.”

  Edward sat on the bed and yanked off his boots before the butler could make a grab for them and potentially knock him to the floor, then handed them over. “Shine them for me?”

  “They’ll be ready in the morning, sir.”

  “Actually, I was hoping you could sit there”—Edward nodded toward a wooden stool positioned near the fire—“and shine them for me now so they’re ready when I wake.”

  It was a silly notion, that his evening dress boots should be ready at dawn, but the old butler didn’t so much as blink at the oddity of it. “Of course, sir.”

  As Arthur sank onto the stool and began to wipe at the boots, Edward fought not to breathe an audible sigh of relief. He didn’t want to keep the man awake shining boots that didn’t need polishing, but the act was self-defense.

  He unbuttoned his waistcoat and removed his cravat. “Is she always so stubborn, Arthur?”

  “Miss Kate? Aye, sir. Always willful, even as a child.”

  “She must be insufferable to work for,” he said tightly.

  “Not at all. She’s an absolute gift!” With a crooked smile, he jabbed the boot into the air to punctuate his point. “Don’t know what would’ve become of me if not for her—or the lot of us, for that matter.”

  “You would have found employment elsewhere.”

  “Beggin’ your pardon, but no, sir—there isn’t a household twixt here and London that would hire us. And Miss Kate knows that. Even wit’ her own troubles, she takes care of us.”

  Even with her own troubles. Edward frowned. The stubborn woman was certainly frustrating, but she didn’t deserve to have problems.

  “That’s why I’m happy you’re here, sir.” He paused, as if weighing not only how much he could trust Edward but how much he was overstepping his station, then boldly continued, “It’s time someone looked after Katie for a change.”

  Edward turned away dismissively. “She has her father.”

  “That good-for-nothing wastrel? Bah!” With a scowl, Arthur attacked the boot with the polishing cloth. “Never cared about her mama nor Katie, nor anything ’cept the farm itself, and only for the money he could steal from it. Hasn’t been here for over a year. Even then he left mighty quick when he found out the miller was demanding real payment.”

  “Real payment?” Something about the way Arthur said that tingled the hairs on his neck.

  “Aye. Last year, Miss Kate arranged to barter for th’ cost of grinding flour with fruits an’ vegetables. But come spring, t’weren’t no more to exchange, and the miller asked for money to clear the rest o’ the bill.”

  “So her father was forced to pay the debt.”

  Arthur scoffed. “Miss Kate paid the debt.”

  “How?”

  “Why, she sold her horse! Loved that little mare, too, she did. Cried for weeks o’er it, though she thought none of us know’d it.”

  That, Edward realized coldly, was why Brambly’s stables were empty, except for the ancient swayback in the barnyard. “And her father?”

  “Rode off in the middle o’ the night with the last piece of th’ good silver.” Arthur rubbed at the leather until it shined. “That’s the way it is with him. He arrives out of the blue—sometimes he’ll bring little gifts of ribbons, combs, that sort of thing—always bribes, if ye ask me.”

  Edward thought of the doll he’d brought for the child he expected to find, a gift to a little girl who might be frightened to meet him. He hoped Kate had seen it as just that, not as a continuation of her father’s bribes. Although why it mattered what she thought, he couldn’t say.

  “Then he’s gone in a day or two. And always, somethin’ from Brambly goes with him.”

  “Brambly’s entailed,” he corrected, pulling his shirt free from his trousers. “She owns it, not her father.”

  “Aye, Your Grace. Katie owns the house.” He raised a gnarled finger into the air to capture Edward’s attention. “But her father owns everythin’ inside it. An’ what he hasn’t managed to steal away, she’s had to sell.”

  Edward’s brows drew together. Arthur confirmed what he’d suspected. Benton cared nothing for his daughter nor her desperate situation here. In fact, he was complicit in it, stealing it from her piece by piece until nothing was left.

  Arthur finished the boots and stood stiffly, then placed them at the foot of the bed. “Anything else, sir?”

  “No, that will be all.” His tone was sincere as he added, “You were quite helpful.”

  “Sleep well, then, Your Grace.” Arthur closed the door. “I’ll be back in the mornin’ to help you dress.”

  Edward froze. Back in the morning? Good God.

  Exhaling a long breath, he crossed to the window to stare out at the chilly night and the crisp moon, which lit the countryside in a silver-white glow. Below him, the front lawn of Brambly swept down to the lane in one direction and to the ribbon of river beyond the orchards in the other. Beautiful, peaceful…he easily saw why Kate loved living here.

  She was innocent in the guardianship her father had tricked from him, he was certain of that now. Such a proud, independent woman would never have allowed anyone to take control over her, and she clearly wanted him gone, both from Brambly and from her life.

  Yet he couldn’t just ignore her situation and leave her here to fend for herself. Given what he knew about her father and what he had seen of the farm, she needed him more than she realized.

  Except that she despised him.

  He opened the window to let in the night air and leaned on his palms against the casement. He shouldn’t care what she thought about him. After all, she was nothing but an unforeseen complication.

  But she also didn’t deserve to suffer because of her father’s sins.

  Bloody hell. He rubbed his forehead. What was he going to do with her? Until she married and the burden passed to some other unfortunate man, he was legally responsible for her and the farm.

  He supposed he should give her an allowance, let her remain at Brambly, and not give his little flame-haired angel a second thought.

  But he couldn’t. By leaving her here without assistance or protection, he would only be extending the same rejection and isolation thrust onto her by her father.

  And he was nothing like Phillip Benton.

  Running a hand through h
is hair, he blew out a harsh breath. Christ. He had no business speaking to her like that tonight, trying to threaten and intimidate. Behaving like an absolute villain. But she had gotten under his skin, and so he’d lashed out. The woman could drive a saint to fury.

  Yet it was more than just the way she looked. It was her independence, confidence, self-reliance. That easy laughter, her bright smiles. Most of all, it was the way she fearlessly stood up to him. Most men weren’t that brave in his presence, but this slip of a country gel looked him directly in the eyes and fiercely stood her ground.

  True, she pricked at him. But oddly enough, he also found himself wanting to protect her. Now that he knew what she’d gone through to save the farm and the handful of servants employed on it, he wanted to safeguard her even more.

  He caught his reflection in the window, and his gaze dropped to his left shoulder, to the place where seven years ago a bullet ripped through his flesh and muscle.

  Anyone looking at him now would never have suspected that the wound had nearly killed him. But it also ultimately saved his life. When he first arrived in Spain, before he’d met Grey and Thomas and still felt the sharp torment of Jane’s betrayal, he’d been rash and reckless, charging into battle at every opportunity. Until the bullet found him. It had taken a ball in the shoulder and nearly losing his life in order for him to move on from Jane.

  God only knew what it would take to untangle Kate Benton and her guardianship from his life.

  * * *

  In her room, Kate, stared at her reflection in the mirror, and with a soft sigh, she wondered again what her mother would think of the woman she’d become.

  “It’s peculiar, that’s what.” Mrs. Elston unfastened the tiny buttons down the back of Kate’s dress, slipped it from her slender shoulders, and helped her step out of it. “No good will come of this, mark my words.”

  Normally, Kate would have undressed herself, and Mrs. Elston would already be in her own room, the covers pulled up to her chin and snoring loudly. But tonight, Kate craved the comfort of the woman’s motherly attentions. Edward’s arrival had shaken her world, and with the veiled threat he’d given her before he’d stormed from the drawing room, he’d also shaken her nerves.

  “He can repair Brambly,” Kate reminded her quietly.

  The guardianship was a mistake. Even if he’d gone bankrupt, her father would never have given up his claim to the farm. But having the duke’s help might just bring Brambly back to the splendor she remembered from her childhood, long before her mother died and her father left it in the hands of unscrupulous agents who stole from the accounts and let it fall to ruin.

  Mrs. Elston snorted as she placed the dress into the armoire. “We don’t need any help from the likes of him.”

  Guiltily, she lowered her eyes. “If the agreement is true, I’ll ask him to pension Arthur and Dorrie.”

  “Oh.” The old governess paused, then closed the armoire. “Well, there is that, I suppose.”

  Kate bit her bottom lip. She planned on asking Edward to pension Mrs. Elston, too. All of them deserved quiet retirements, even if Kate didn’t want them to ever leave Brambly. She wanted them to stay right there, continuing to take care of each other as they had since her mother died.

  Her chest panged, and she briefly closed her eyes against the fear and worry swirling inside her. Her life was spinning out of control, all because of a piece of paper. Edward promised her his protection, and for that, she should have been grateful. But at what cost—the surrender of Brambly and her own freedom?

  “And all the accounts can finally be paid in full.” She forced a lightness into her voice she certainly didn’t feel. “Hopefully, I can convince him to expand the orchards to increase Brambly’s value.”

  “Is that what he plans on doing with you?” Mrs. Elston removed the pins from Kate’s hair. “Increase your value?”

  Kate frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Dress you up, debut you into society.” She shrugged. “Parade you through London to attract a husband so he can wash his hands of you.”

  “His Grace wouldn’t do that.” But her denial was unconvincing even to her own ears. He wouldn’t…or would he? Edward was practically a stranger, after all.

  As if reading her thoughts, Mrs. Elston continued, “He may be a duke, but he’s no gentleman.”

  Saying nothing to that, she let Mrs. Elston brush out her hair, something the old governess hadn’t done since she was a little girl, but tonight, it brought both of them solace. Yet she wasn’t a child anymore. In fact, she was now as old as her mother when she married her father.

  Kate turned away from the mirror, unable to tolerate tonight the memories of her mother’s unhappy marriage. Mrs. Elston was wrong. Edward could dress her up and parade her down the promenade all he wanted, but she would never subject herself to the same misery as her mother. She would never give up her medicine, Brambly, her freedom…her heart. She may look identical to her mother, but she would never make the same mistake of marrying a man who did not love her.

  Mrs. Elston laid out her night rail. “I want you to get a good night’s rest. You’ll straighten out this whole mistake in the morning.”

  But Kate was beginning to think that the agreement wasn’t a mistake. She had seen her father’s signature right there on the document—Edward Westover was her guardian.

  The old governess squeezed her hand reassuringly, then excused herself for the night. It had been an exhausting and nerve-wracking day for her, too. The entire household had been turned inside out by the duke’s arrival.

  She slipped into her nightgown, turned toward the bed, and stopped. The doll that Edward had given her that morning sat propped against her pillow.

  With a soft sigh, she traced her fingertip over the silky blond hair and lacy pink dress. Her shoulders sagged. How could someone so cold and controlling also be thoughtful enough to bring a doll for a child he’d never met?

  She crawled into bed, pulled the duvet up to her neck, and stared at the canopy above her. When she was child, if anyone had brought her such a lovely gift, she would have been certain he would be kind to her. But now…Well, she simply wasn’t certain of anything anymore.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  In the early morning sunlight, Kate slipped from her room and made her way through the silent house with every intention of dealing with Edward Westover in the only way she knew how.

  She was going to hide.

  Oh, she was such a coward! And prowling through her own home like a thief, no less. But it was better to simply hide than risk saying more things she would regret and make her situation worse, so she planned on being long gone before the sun inched any higher and not returning until after dark, when she hoped he would have already retired to his room. To fill her time while she hid, she’d busy herself by thinking up the next excuse to avoid him tomorrow. And the day after that, and the one after that…until he gave up this silly notion of being her guardian and left.

  She couldn’t risk another argument like last night’s. The last person she needed as an enemy was the Duke of Strathmore, yet she’d never been good at holding her tongue. So the best course of action was simply to avoid him.

  She moved silently downstairs to the study, to leave a note for Mrs. Elston so she wouldn’t worry about her. With its cherry furnishings and brilliant white trim, the study was her favorite room, and the place her mother had preferred to work. Kate used to play for hours with her dolls in front of the fire while Mama sat behind the desk and tallied the estate’s books. Oh, how she missed those carefree days! When her mother was still alive, Brambly possessed funds for properly—if frugally—being self-sufficient, and her mother managed it brilliantly. Even then, Papa rarely visited, gladly leaving the farm to his wife’s oversight as long as she paid his allowance. Business, whether foreign or domestic, had never been Phillip Benton’s strong suit.

  Since her mother’s death, though, the study had suffered the same thinning of furnishings as the
rest of the house. The rug she’d played on was gone, along with the draperies, the paintings…Only the desk remained, which was too big to fit through the doorway, along with the books, which her father thought held no value. Yet Kate still enjoyed spending time here even though it now meant sitting in the room alone, juggling the dwindling figures herself.

  As she slipped inside, she glanced over her shoulder to make certain no one saw her, then closed the door, turned—

  And gasped.

  “Good morning, Katherine.”

  Edward sat behind the desk with a quill in his hand, making notations in a small notebook. Gone were his formal evening clothes from the night before, replaced by a plain white shirt with a black waistcoat and tan breeches. Scandalously without cravat and coat, his shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms, he seemed dressed more for a day of outside chores than business work, but judging from the stacks of books on the desk, he planned to do exactly that all day. A half-eaten breakfast sitting nearby proved that he’d already been there for quite some time.

  She rolled her eyes. The man was an early riser. Wonderful.

  “Your Grace.” Her shoulders sagged as her plan to hide dissolved away. Gathering what was left of her shredded courage, she stepped forward. “My apologies for disturbing you.”

  “Not at all.” He stood graciously and moved out from behind the desk to greet her. “Did you need me?”

  She bristled at the man’s audacity. No, she most certainly did not need him. “I came for a book.”

  Not strictly a lie. She often took a book with her when she went walking, and if that was the excuse she needed to hide from him for the rest of the day, then she’d gladly take an entire shelf of volumes and haul them on her back like a beggar woman if necessary.

  But a different set of books drew her attention, the red leather bindings of those stacked at his elbow. Brambly’s account books, the detailed ledgers where she so carefully recorded every one of the farm’s transactions and jotted down notes on strategies to pay for repairs and replace the household goods even as they’d disappeared around her.