Page 34 of Secrets of a Duke's Heart
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
ONE MONTH LATER
Dear Lord Montague,
I write to inform you that there is no need to marry in haste; the result of our mutual experiment in Cavalier Cove was null. You may pursue your duchess in peace.
-Clarissa Penfirth.
Dearest Clarissa,
I am devastated that you believe me capable of pursuing any lady other than yourself. If nature will not force the issue, may I pay a call upon you in London when I return there next?
-Lord Jude Montague
My Lord Montague,
I regret that I will not be in London next Season. I am traveling with my cousin Nathaniel to chaperone his new ward back to Cavalier Cove. Though I doubt our paths will cross again, I do wish you well.
-Clarissa Penfirth
* * *
Later that summer…
“We are passing near Acton Heath,”Nathaniel broke hours of companionable silence to inform her. “Would you like to see it while we’re in the area? I see no reason to come all this way and not do a bit of sightseeing.”
“I doubt Lord Montague wishes for me to trespass upon his property uninvited.” She hadn’t told her cousin what had happened with the duke, though she suspected he had guessed.
“Nonsense. The estate is open to the public. He won’t even know you are there. I would bet Miss Estelle would enjoy a visit, too.”
“She is but eleven, is she not?”
He scrubbed his face. “What am I going to do with a little girl? I know nothing about them.”
Clarissa shrugged. “Feed her, clothe her, educate her. Her father has provided a decent dowry for her. When the time comes, help her choose a suitable husband, assuming she wants one.”
“Strange that the Wayward Dukes wanted me, of all people, to take responsibility for her. She is his natural daughter, but born on the wrong side of the blanket. Why not a relative?”
“I’m sure we’ll get the story about that when we arrive.”
“Last chance to stop at Acton Heath in this direction,” he said. “The turn is just ahead.”
A nervous buzzing like a swarm of angry bees erupted in Clarissa’s stomach. “Perhaps on the way back.”
* * *
The swarmin her stomach had dissipated sufficiently on the return trip that when Estelle, a bright eleven-year-old girl, pleaded to visit Acton Heath, Clarissa couldn’t say no. She was taking the transition in stride—better than Nathaniel was. Estelle befuddled and charmed Nathaniel with her antics, but it was her governess, Miss Lydia Shaw, who confounded him.
“Please, Shaw, can we?” Estelle begged.
“Ask Lord Prescott. It is his decision, my star.”
The girl all but threw herself into his lap, her gloved fingers folded in a pantomime of prayer, and gazed up at him like a puppy yearning for a scrap of supper from the table. Clarissa bit back a smile. She needed minding, but Miss Shaw—whom Estelle addressed exclusively by her surname—had laid a foundation of good manners that made her antics more winsome than annoying.
Mostly. After a single afternoon together, Estelle’s increasing wiggles and Nathaniel’s impatience colliding with growing frequency, Clarissa was forced to admit that a break from the coach was in order. When her cousin cast a look of exasperation at her, she immediately acquiesced.
“A brief visit to the renowned ducal estate would be a welcome reprieve for all of us.”
