The Forbidden Duke Read online

  Nora took in the magnificence of the drawing room with its tall windows cloaked with gold curtains overlooking the street, a myriad of landscape paintings that gave the space a welcome feeling of the outdoors, as well as gilt-edged mirrors that lent an expansive air to the already large chamber, and three ornate chandeliers, whose crystal sparkled and winked in the afternoon light.

  It was as elegant as Cousin Frederick’s had been, yet somehow more comfortable. Or maybe that was just Nora’s maturity showing, that she wasn’t intimidated by a fancy London house. She wasn’t as green as she’d once been.

  A moment later, Lady Satterfield entered the drawing room. She was tall, with dark hair and a regal bearing, but also a warm smile that lent her approachability. Nora immediately relaxed.

  “Good day, Miss Lockhart. I’m so pleased you could meet with me today. Please, sit.” Lady Satterfield gestured toward a settee, while she sank into an armed chair covered with blue silk.

  Nora perched on the edge. “Thank you, my lady. It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  “My butler is bringing tea in a moment. Do you know how to pour?”

  Nora nodded. “I do, my lady.”

  “Excellent. I thought as much, since you’ve been out in Society.”

  The countess made the statement without inflection, making it impossible for Nora to infer what her opinion might be of Nora’s past. And she didn’t think for a moment that the agency hadn’t informed Lady Satterfield of Nora’s indiscretions. Nora had been honest and forthright when she’d inquired with them, and they’d been just as direct in their response, telling her that placement might be difficult.

  Yet, here she was with an interview.

  She rushed to answer Lady Satterfield, even though she hadn’t asked a direct question. “Yes, I was out in Society for two Seasons.” Not quite, but close enough.

  “The agency informed me of your past experience.”

  Again, Nora couldn’t tell what Lady Satterfield thought of any of it, but Lady Satterfield’s invitation to today’s appointment had to mean that she wasn’t bothered. Still, she’d feel better to have the issue out in the open. “You’re aware of the circumstances under which I left London?”

  Lady Satterfield looked at her with…kindness? Yes, her eyes crinkled at the edges and her lips curved into a compassionate smile. “I am, and all I can say is that I’m sorry things worked out that way for you. We’ve all done foolish things in our youth, but most are fortunate to keep them private. Society is most unforgiving when it comes to women. Never mind that the man is at least equally accountable, or in some cases more so. It was Lord Haywood?”

  An image of the exceedingly handsome Haywood, an Untouchable, rose in her mind. With his dazzling smile, blond, wavy hair, and golden tongue, he’d quite charmed her nine years ago. “Yes.” She coughed softly to clear her suddenly cobwebbed throat. “I take full responsibility for my actions.”

  Lady Satterfield cocked her head to the side. “I admire your maturity. Did you hope to marry him?”

  “Foolishly, yes.” Nora didn’t bother trying to hide the self-derision in her tone. “When he pledged his undying love and said he planned to make me his wife, I believed him. At the time, an assignation in the library with my future betrothed seemed a touch risky, but I thought my future was secure.”

  How wrong she’d been. They’d been caught in an embrace in that library—during a ball—and the occasion had been the on dit of the Season. Cousin Frederick had packed Nora back to the country two days later. Haywood, meanwhile, had only been obliged to leave town for the Season; his reputation had been salvageable. He’d even gone on to marry a few years later. Nora, on the other hand, had been utterly ruined. All over a kiss, and not a particularly good one at that.

  Lady Satterfield shook her head and pursed her lips. “Men can be such clods.”

  Though simple, Lady Satterfield’s statement stoked a long-dormant fire in Nora’s soul. So few people cast any fault on the gentleman, preferring instead to lay all of the blame at Nora’s feet. Was it possible she empathized with Nora’s plight? “I’ve changed since then.”

  Obtaining acceptance, finding a husband, securing a place in Society—all that had seemed critically important. She had none of that, and yet she couldn’t say she was completely unhappy. She had her garden, her books, and something most women didn’t: relative freedom. Rather, she’d had those things.

  The warmth returned to Lady Satterfield’s gaze. “I can see that, dear. You comport yourself very well. I don’t care what happened in the past. I only care what happens now. I am looking for a companion who will accompany me shopping, assist with correspondence and other secretarial-type matters, and provide companionship. Does this interest you?”

  Nora had already formed a quick opinion of the countess—she liked her. How could she not when she was the first person to show Nora such compassion? Being this woman’s companion would not be a hardship by any measure. “Yes, I should like that very much. I’m an excellent writer. My mother always praised my early handwriting. It’s likely why I worked hard to improve my skill.”

  “How long ago did you lose your mother, dear?”

  Nora’s chest tightened very briefly. The pain had lessened over the years, but in some ways, that bothered Nora. She didn’t miss her mother as much as she used to, and that felt wrong somehow. “It’s been twenty years.”

  “I’m so sorry you lost her at such a young age. I had my own mother until just a few years ago.” She smiled fleetingly. “I still miss her, but she had a lovely life.”

  The butler arrived with the tea then, setting the tray on a table between them. Nora asked how Lady Satterfield liked her tea, then set about preparing their cups accordingly.

  “You are quite adept,” Lady Satterfield said. “Tell me, why are you seeking employment?” She picked up her cup and sipped her tea.

  Nora smoothed her skirt over her knees, even though the outmoded fabric was lying perfectly flat. She hated admitting the embarrassing truth, but again preferred to be candid. “My father is moving to Dorset at the end of the month and will no longer have space for me.”

  Lady Satterfield’s lips pursed into a slight frown. “What a pity. I can’t say that recommends him, in my opinion.”

  Nora appreciated the countess’s support, but also couldn’t help but feel like a charity case.

  “And what have you been doing these past nine years?” Lady Satterfield asked.

  “Reading, mostly. I also enjoy working in the garden.” She was going to miss that. She’d cultivated a healthy display of flowers and shrubbery. She was most proud of the roses.

  “Have you been happy? That is, if not for the change in your circumstances, would you have continued on as you were?”

  Nora had difficulty understanding why this woman was inquiring after her happiness. No one beyond Jo had ever cared. “I expect so. My sister hoped that I would marry eventually.”

  Lady Satterfield took another sip of her tea. “Is that what you wanted?”

  Once, when she’d been a young lady, fresh in London, she’d nurtured dreams of marriage and children. But after her fall from grace, she’d lost all expectation of such a future, regardless of her sister’s determination to have faith. “Originally, but I have no such aspirations now. I shall be quite content to serve as your lady’s companion. That is, if you decide to hire me.” Nora felt color rise in her cheeks. She didn’t wish to be presumptuous.

  “I most certainly do,” Lady Satterfield said. “Can you move in immediately?”

  Nora couldn’t speak for a moment. “I’m…overwhelmed by your faith in me.”

  “You possess a lovely spirit as well as resilience and intelligence. I am not at all concerned you will repeat the mistakes of your past.”

  Joy and relief merged, and Nora couldn’t contain her smile. “I shan’t.”

  “Excellent. We shall need to move quickly since my ball is in just a few days, and you will need
to attend, of course.” Her gaze dropped to Nora’s horribly outdated traveling costume. “I gather you’ll need a new wardrobe?”

  Nora winced. “I’m afraid I haven’t needed fashionable clothing in recent years.”

  “That’s quite all right, dear. I am rather inspired by this project—not to say you’re a project, but I daresay you are.”

  Nora couldn’t possibly be irritated with the woman’s assessment, not when her gray eyes were sparkling with infectious enthusiasm. “It is my good fortune to be your project. Thank you ever so much for this opportunity.”

  “Excellent. After tea, we shall embark on our first shopping trip. I’ll have Harley send for your things.” Lady Satterfield shook her head, smiling. “But I’m getting ahead of myself. I’ll show you upstairs to your room and give you a thorough tour of the house. We have an extensive library downstairs—you did say you like to read, didn’t you?”

  Everything was happening so fast, but then that was good, wasn’t it? Nora had needed a new situation and quickly at that. Now she had one.

  She would be companion to a kind and generous countess. She would have a new wardrobe and access to a fabulous library. So she would never be married or have a family of her own.

  That was fine, since she’d abandoned that dream long ago.

  Titus arrived ten minutes before his stepmother’s tea was due to begin. Harley, the Satterfields’ typically unflappable butler, blinked, registering a moment’s surprise at seeing Titus.

  “Your Grace, Lady Satterfield will be delighted to see you. She is already in the drawing room.”

  “Thank you, Harley. I’ll see myself up.” Titus climbed the stairs to the first floor and entered the drawing room, where his stepmother was speaking with a maid.

  When Lady Satterfield saw Titus, her eyes lit, and her lips spread into a broad smile. “Kendal, you came.”

  She came toward him, and Titus bussed her cheek. “I told Satterfield I was coming. Didn’t he inform you?”

  “He did, but I wasn’t going to believe it until I saw you for myself.” She looked up at him and brushed her hand across his shoulder. “You had a speck of lint.”

  “Thank you.”

  “No, thank you. I know events like my tea today are not of your particular interest.”

  He glanced around the drawing room, which the maid had just vacated. “Where is your companion?”

  His stepmother had sent word that she’d hired someone. “She’ll be down directly. You’ll like her, I think.”

  Titus had no intention of getting to know the woman well at all, but supposed he must at least be polite for his stepmother’s sake.

  Lady Satterfield’s gaze moved toward the door behind Titus. “Ah, here she is.”

  Titus turned. The companion was not at all what he expected. He’d anticipated a middle-aged woman with graying hair, perhaps wearing spectacles and a lace-edged cap. She at least ought to have been unremarkable, but this woman was the exact opposite. In fact, Titus might have expected to see her at the Cyprian ball he’d attended last night, if she’d been dressed quite differently. Instead, she wore a charming day dress that only hinted at the curves cloaked by the gentle drape of the fabric. But it was her eyes that captivated him, at once sharply inquisitive and lushly inviting. He would’ve spoken with her last night and perhaps even employed her.

  However, this was neither a Cyprian ball, nor was he in the market for a mistress any longer.

  His stepmother’s voice drew him briskly and sharply back to the present. “Kendal, allow me to present my new companion, Miss Eleanor Lockhart.”

  As stunned as he’d been by the woman’s appearance, he was aghast at her identity. He was also distinctly uncomfortable. Which he should be. She’d been utterly ruined by one of Titus’s former inner circle, the idiot Haywood.

  Led by Titus, their select group of bucks had gallivanted all over London, doing whatever they damn well chose. Titus had set the tone—gambling, racing, and romancing women had been among his chief pursuits. He’d thought nothing of flirting with and perhaps stealing a kiss or two from a young miss. It had been a foolish practice, as were most of their activities, and in retrospect, Titus was shocked he’d never been caught. But then he hadn’t been as stupid as Haywood, whom Titus had encouraged in his endeavor to lead some poor young woman into an embrace. That poor young woman had been Miss Lockhart, and they’d been caught.

  Haywood, coward that he was, hadn’t risen to the occasion and offered for her. He’d needed a moneyed bride, and so he’d skulked off to the country to bide his time until he could try again. Three years later, he’d snagged a wealthy wife, while Miss Lockhart had been left with nothing, and worse—no chance for anything.

  Masking his recognition and discomfiture, Titus offered a benign smile. “Good afternoon, Miss Lockhart. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” It was no lie—they’d never been formally introduced, despite his awareness of who she was.

  Lady Satterfield pivoted to her young and distractingly attractive companion. “Nora, this is my stepson, His Grace, the Duke of Kendal.”

  Nora. A strong but feminine name. It suited her.

  Miss Lockhart dipped a curtsey. “It is an honor to meet you, Your Grace.”

  Her behavior was completely appropriate—necessary even—but he didn’t want her showing him deference. Which was silly since he expected that from everyone else. “The honor is mine.”

  She looked at him, her brown eyes the color of his favorite tawny port, and he had the sense no one had said such a thing to her. And why should they when she’d been a pariah? He wanted to ask what had happened to her since that unfortunate event. More importantly, he wanted to know why she was here.

  But he didn’t.

  At that moment, Harley announced the first guests, and Lady Satterfield went to greet them, taking Miss Lockhart with her.

  Titus watched them go, then turned and went to stand near the window closest to the corner away from the entry point, away from where people would congregate…just away. He fixed his gaze on the street below so that he could survey the arrivals. Why, he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t as if he cared who attended. Plus, his brain was completely focused on Miss Lockhart and her present circumstances.

  The event that had caused her ruin may not have been directly his fault, but he should at least have inquired after her welfare.

  He stood near the window for a good half hour. As usual, people cast glances in his direction, but no one approached him. Nor did he approach anyone else. His stepmother would perhaps chastise him for his aloofness, but only for a bit. She knew he preferred solitude, even if she didn’t understand it.

  Since his father had died and Titus had inherited the title, he’d thrown himself into his duty, as both a landowner and a member of the House of Lords. He enjoyed spending time with his steward on his estate and with his secretary when he was in London. Beyond that, he had no interest in friendships or relationships of any kind—save the mistress he took for the Season. He supposed it was odd that a duke had no use for Society’s entertainments, but he’d spent his youth playing the role of dissolute rake to perfection and preferred never to look back.

  However, the presence of Miss Lockhart was forcing him to do just that, and he didn’t like what he saw.

  From the corner of his eye, he caught Satterfield approaching. Titus pivoted slightly. Satterfield was one of the only people he accepted into his inner circle.

  “You came,” Satterfield said, echoing his wife’s earlier statement.

  Titus kept his focus on the street, but darted a look toward his stepfather. “You and my stepmother have so little faith in me.”

  “It isn’t faith, my boy. It’s just that we know you.” He smiled briefly. “Genie says you’ve been standing over here brooding the whole time.”

  “I’m not brooding. I’m enjoying the only company I can tolerate.”

  “That doesn’t speak well of any of us, does it?” Satterfield said th
is with humor, provoking a small smile from Titus.

  He glanced at his stepfather. “Present company excluded, but then you haven’t been here the entire time.”

  “Gads no, but then I can barely tolerate this sort of thing either.”

  “So why are you here?”

  Satterfield pivoted so that his back was to the window and he faced the room at large. “Same reason as you, I expect. I love your stepmother, and I want to support her. Did you meet Miss Lockhart?”

  At the mention of her name, Titus had to reassess his behavior. Perhaps he had been brooding after all. “I did.”

  “She and Genie get on quite well. I wasn’t certain this would be a good idea, but I have to admit, it seems to be working out.”

  Titus was glad for that—no one deserved happiness more than his stepmother. She’d accepted him as her own son the moment she’d married Titus’s father and hadn’t treated him any differently once she’d finally had her own child. The loss of that child, Titus’s sister, was only one of the reasons Titus was eager to see her happy. He’d do anything for her, in fact. Anything except take a duchess.

  Maybe someday. Just not now.

  “And did your evening find a satisfying end?” Satterfield asked.

  It was his polite way of asking if Titus had secured his mistress for the Season. He had. Isabelle Francis was incomparably beautiful—or so Titus had thought last night. However, she now seemed a trifle…colorless next to Miss Lockhart. Her hair was pale blond, while Miss Lockhart’s was a vivid auburn. Isabelle’s eyes were an incandescent blue—beautiful—but simple, as if she were only capable of a studied range of emotions. Miss Lockhart’s had possessed a feral quality. Somehow he’d detected a fierce independence buried in their depths.

  Titus turned his head to look at Satterfield and to see if he could catch a glimpse of Miss Lockhart. She stood on the other side of the room, engaged in conversation—a vibrant addition to the mundane tea. Indeed, she didn’t look much like a companion at all. Weren’t they supposed to sit out of the way and observe?