The Spring Duke (A Duke for All Seasons) Read online

  She did so through an unwelcome sheen of tears as rain continued to batter the windows and her heart continued to break.

  It had suffered its first tear when Ambrose told her in no uncertain terms that he was not in love with her. And it had continued to unravel, like a loose thread on a cloak, when he went on to treat her as if she were just another governess. Just another servant to be employed or sacked at will. Just another acquaintance in his life who meant nothing to him.

  Except she wasn’t just another governess. Or a servant. Or an acquaintance. Or at least, she hadn’t thought she was.

  “But he certainly told you differently, didn’t he?” she said aloud, swiping angrily at the moisture gathering beneath her lashes. She hated to cry. Almost more than she hated being treated as if she didn’t matter.

  Her parents had done it all of her life. She had been a constant disappointment to them and eventually, she’d simply become invisible.

  Oh, she knew they still loved her. In their own way, at least. But they’d stopped seeing her years ago. And she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed being seen until Ambrose looked at her with those startlingly blue eyes and something inside of her shifted.

  Damn the duke. Damn him. Sniffling, Athena packed another hat away. It was his fault she felt this way, and she hated him even as she continued to love him so fiercely it hurt.

  Ambrose saw her. She almost wished he didn’t, for then surely it wouldn’t feel as if her heart was being torn in half. Because seeing her meant he knew who she was...inside and out. He saw her qualities. He saw her flaws. He saw her vulnerabilities.

  He was the first man – the only man – to see her for who she truly was.

  And he didn’t want her.

  “Why won’t this stupid hat fit – in – the – damn – box!” Clenching a silk turban in her fist, Athena threw it across the room where it hit the wall and bounced harmlessly onto the bed. In a fit of anger she struck out and the tower of hat boxes she’d painstakingly stacked one on top of the other went tumbling onto the floor in wild disarray.

  “Bloody perfect,” she muttered, borrowing Ambrose’s favorite curse as she gave one of the boxes a half-hearted kick.

  “Miss Dogwood?” Opening the door a few inches, Victoria peered uncertainly into the bedchamber. “May I came in?”

  “Yes, of course.” Dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, Athena managed a watery smile. “How was your harpsicord lesson?”

  “Boring.” Victoria looked down at the hat boxes scattered across the floor. “Did they do something to upset you?”

  “I suppose you could say that.” Had she really thought hats might be the secret to marrying a duke? As it turned out, there was no secret – because she and Ambrose were never going to marry. Like her great-grandmother, she was going to return to America with a broken heart.

  And there was nothing she could do about it.

  She wouldn’t beg Ambrose. Nor would she continue on as his governess. Not when she knew, deep down inside, she could be – they could be – so much more. Which was why she really had no choice. She had to go back to Boston.

  Even if it meant leaving her heart in London.

  A piece of that heart belonged to the young girl standing in front of her. She was going to miss Victoria, she realized with a pang. Perhaps just as much as she was going to miss Victoria’s father. Crouching until she and her charge were eye level, she took Victoria’s hands in hers and gave a gentle squeeze.

  “I have bad news, I’m afraid. I am going to be returning home.”

  “But you cannot!” Victoria protested. “You’re the best governess I’ve ever had.”

  “You’ll soon find another governess you like just as much. And you will not put a frog down her dress or a worm in her tea,” Athena instructed sternly. “I think you’ll find your father less strict than he has been in the past. As long as you mind your manners and treat your future governess with the respect she deserves, you should have more freedom to do as you like.”

  Victoria’s chin quivered. “You’re leaving because of him, aren’t you?”

  Perceptive child.

  “The duke and I did have a...disagreement, of sorts. But that is not the only reason. I was only ever supposed to be a temporary governess, Victoria.” She smiled apologetically. “You knew that.”

  “But I don’t want you to be temporary! I want you to stay forever.” Snatching her hands away, Victoria crossed them over her chest and stomped her foot. “Just because you and Father had a fight doesn’t mean you have to run away.”

  Athena sat back on her heels. “It was a bit more than a fight, and I am not running away. It’s important to know your own value, sweetling. You’ll learn that in time.”

  “How can I learn if you’re not here to teach me? Please stay,” Victoria implored, and the sheen of tears in her eyes intensified the ache in Athena’s chest a thousand fold. “Please. I promise I’ll behave. I swear it. Just don’t leave.”

  “My leaving has nothing to do with you.” Reaching out, she wrapped her arms around Victoria and hugged the crying child as tightly as she could. “You’re perfect just the way you are,” she murmured. “Do not ever let anyone tell you any different.”

  “I shall miss you terribly,” Victoria wept as she clung to Athena’s neck with all her might. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”

  “I know.” So do I, she thought silently. So do I.

  But as much as she wanted to stay – and she did want to stay, more than she’d ever wanted anything in her entire life – she knew that every day, every hour, every single minute in the duke’s presence would be akin to a slow, horrible suffocation. For what was love, if not air? Invisible to the eye. Impossible to touch. But as necessary to living as food and water.

  “When are you leaving?” Victoria sniffled.

  “Today, if I can secure passage.”

  “Today? But – but that’s so soon!”

  She squeezed Victoria one final time before she stood up. “Do you mind if I left my hats with you? I know you’ll take good care of them, and Lady Cherryblossom would look quite dashing in a turban.”

  Victoria bit her lip. “Lady Cherryblossom does like turbans.”

  “I thought she might.” As she felt her resolve being to waver, Athena pulled on her pelisse, picked up her small traveling bag – the only thing she was taking with her – and gave Victoria one last smile. “Mind your manners. Just don’t mind them too much.”

  “I shall try,” the child said solemnly.

  Before she could change her mind, Athena hurried out of the room and down the stairs. Thankfully, she saw no sign of Ambrose, only the butler, who was more than happy to send for a hackney.

  “Leaving so soon?” he asked.

  She rolled her eyes. “Do not pretend you’re upset.”

  “I won’t.” The butler paused. “Although I know someone who will be.” On that cryptic note he handed her an umbrella and opened the door.

  The storm had blown over and the sky had cleared to a dull, nondescript gray, but it was still lightly drizzling. As Athena fumbled to open the umbrella – they really were cumbersome things – rain misted her face...and mingled with the tears that rolled freely down her cheeks.

  “Victoria, have you seen Miss Dogwood?” Frowning, Ambrose looked in the parlor where his daughter was quietly practicing her embroidery.

  “She left,” said Victoria without looking up. His frown deepened.

  “She left? What do you mean, she left? To the market to run errands?” He stepped into the room, his gaze automatically going to the windowsill. A servant had straightened the curtains and polished the glass, leaving no evidence behind of the passionate tryst that had taken place there only a few hours ago.

  “No.” Eyes narrowed in concentration, Victoria slowly wove her needle and thread along the bottom edge of a white handkerchief.

  “Do you know where she went?”

  “Yes.” Turning the handkerchief cloc
kwise, Victoria began another neat line of stitches across the top.

  “Would you care to elaborate?”

  Finally his daughter looked up at him and the marked disapproval in her gaze made Ambrose feel for all the world as if he were the child and she the adult. It wasn’t a very good feeling, and the unease he’d been carrying with him ever since he and Athena parted ways heightened considerably.

  He should have gone after her. He knew that now. But he’d needed time – and space – to sort out his jumbled thoughts.

  With Sophia, everything had been so bloody easy. They’d had their future mapped out for them almost since birth. He’d known exactly how he was going to propose. When they were going to wed. Where they were going to raise their family. Everything had been neat and orderly, just the way he liked it. Then Sophia died, and he’d been left with an infant daughter to raise, and all of his careful plans had vanished in the blink of an eye. Which, he supposed, only proved what he’d been trying to deny for too long: life wasn’t easy. It was fickle, and messy, and there was no telling what tomorrow would bring.

  He’d loved his wife. Of that he was absolutely, unequivocally certain. What he hadn’t been certain of was if he loved Athena. But now he knew the answer, and it was yes. Yes, he did love her. Not in the same way he’d loved Sophia. How could he, when they were completely different?

  Sophia had been a warm, comforting blanket you held close during a storm whereas Athena...Athena was the storm. But loving her didn’t mean he loved Sophia’s memory any less. If anything, it made him treasure what time they’d had together even more.

  He wasn’t replacing Sophia with Athena, which was one of the things he’d feared the most. He wasn’t forgetting her. He wasn’t tearing his heart into two pieces.

  He was growing it to twice the size.

  “Well, darling?” he asked when Victoria continued to stare at him as if he hadn’t properly wiped his shoes before stepping into the house. “Do you know where she is?”

  Victoria pursed her lips. “You and Miss Dogwood had a fight.”

  “Did Miss Dogwood tell you that?” he said guardedly.

  “She was crying.”

  His stomach tightened. “She was...crying?”

  “Yes. You upset her,” his daughter accused.

  “I know. I know I did.” And he regretted his cold, callous words more than he could possibly express, although he was damn well going to try. “Which is why it’s very important I speak with her at once.”

  “Then you had better hurry.”

  Ambrose stilled. “Why? Why do I need to hurry?”

  “Because,” said Victoria matter-of-factly, “she’s on the next ship bound for America.”

  As Athena walked slowly up the gangplank her feet felt as heavy as the wood beneath them. It was a sharp contrast to the hope she’d felt when she had first arrived in London. Hope that had carried her, light as air, all the way to the Duke of Blackburn’s front door. Hope that had made her believe in the impossible. Hope that had all but abandoned her now that she knew her dream of finding love across the Atlantic had been just that: a dream.

  She’d hoped for desire and all she’d gotten was disappointment.

  The line of passengers ascending the gangplank slowed to a crawl and then stopped entirely when a woman in a large hat attempted to board with three yapping cocker spaniels. One of the crewmen tried to take a spaniel and it latched onto his arm, causing him to yell and stumble back. Sighing, Athena looked out across the harbor.

  It had finally stopped raining. A glimmer of sunlight reflected off the water and a warm breeze stirred the air while gulls circled overheard, their sharp cries contributing to the general sense of mess and mayhem as ships were loaded and unloaded. The docks were even more crowded than they’d been the day she arrived, but her heart felt far emptier. It was as if someone had reached inside her chest and plucked the offending organ out, leaving her completely hollow.

  Reaching into the pocket of her pelisse, she removed the letter that had started it all. The parchment crinkled as she opened it and the ink blurred as she started to read, but her tears did not stop her from reciting every single word from memory.

  My Dearest Dorothea,

  I miss you.

  There are probably better ways to start a letter from the heart, but know that I am no poet and thus I must begin in the simplest of terms with the simplest of emotions. Since you left there has not been a day that I have not thought of you. There has not been an hour that I have not missed you. There has not been a minute that I have not yearned for you. I ache for the sight of your smile and the sound of your laughter.

  I miss you, my dear, darling Dorothea. You are a part of me. You will always be a part of me. And while the miles between us are long, the memories are short and all I need to do is close my eyes and there you are.

  I don’t know if we will ever see one another again. I fear, given the circumstances and distance under which we find ourselves, our story will not end in happily-ever-after. Please know that I wish you happiness. I wish you love. I wish you everything you could possibly desire.

  I shall carry your memory forever, my beautiful Dorothea. And you shall hold my heart for always.

  Yours.

  Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow.

  Daniel

  Athena finished the letter and dashed angrily at the tears running down her face. If her great-grandmother had managed to keep going after losing the love of her life then she, too, would persevere.

  She didn’t know if she could marry someone else, as Dorothea had done. Her feelings were still too raw to even consider it. But she could be happy. She would be happy. The Duke of Blackburn be damned.

  Wiping away the last of her tears she began to tuck the letter back inside her pelisse, then suddenly stopped.

  The letter had come from London and it had brought her to London. Maybe this was where it belonged. Maybe...maybe the time had come to let it go. After all, she couldn’t carry it with her forever. Not if she wanted to move on with her life and not be reminded of Ambrose every time she saw it. But neither could she just put it back in another desk to gather dust and be forgotten. Surely, the last known correspondence between Dorothea and Daniel deserved more than that.

  The edge of the gangplank was marked off by a thick rope. It pressed into her belly as she leaned forward and held the letter out over the water below. She could feel the curious eyes of fellow passengers upon her but no one said anything, and with a small gasp she lifted her hand...and let the letter go.

  She expected it to be swallowed up by the frothy waves, but an unexpected gust of wind caught the parchment and sent it spinning through the air. It wove and dipped, dancing in the breeze like a bird. Twice it nearly touched the Thames, only to be thrust upward at the last possible second as if guided by an invisible hand.

  The love letter skimmed back over the gangplank before floating towards the docks. Without warning the wind suddenly died away and the letter dropped sharply into the crowd. But before it disappeared and was trampled in the mud and the muck, a gloved hand reached up and snatched the letter out of the air. Athena’s breath caught in her throat.

  There, unbelievably, stood the Duke of Blackburn.

  And he was staring straight at her.

  For a moment neither one of them moved. In the calamity and the chaos they stood perfectly still with their eyes locked, as if they were the only two people in all of London.

  Then Ambrose was running towards her and she was racing towards him, desperately ducking under trunks and squeezing between bewildered passengers waiting to board the ship. She fought her way back down the gangplank and Ambrose was there waiting for her, his dark hair windblown and his blue eyes frantic.

  “You’re still here.” He squeezed her arms, then dragged her against his chest. “My God, you’re still here.”

  She could feel the wild beat of his heart through his clothing. Pressing her face against the smooth satin of his waistcoa
t she closed her eyes and inhaled his scent, something she never thought she’d be able to do ever again.

  He smelled of sandalwood and sweat. Of dreams abandoned and dreams realized. Of hope lost...and hope found.

  “I believe this belongs to you,” he said gruffly, placing the letter into her hand. She accepted it blindly, unwilling to lift her face from his chest. When she spoke, her words were muffled, but Ambrose understood enough to lift a brow.

  “I nearly broke my neck racing to get here in time and that’s how you greet me?” he asked.

  Blinking more tears – happy ones, at least – out of her eyes, Athena tipped her head back and scowled up at him. “You wouldn’t have had to nearly break your neck racing here if you weren’t so damned stubborn in the first place. I should board that ship just to teach you a lesson.”

  He placed his hand on the side of her face, the pad of his thumb brushing tenderly across her cheek. “The only lesson I’d learn was how long it took to sail the Atlantic.”

  Athena blinked. “You’d cross an ocean to follow me?”

  “I would cross the world to follow you,” he corrected. “And you shall hold my heart for always, no matter where you are.”

  Her own heart flooded with warmth when he recited the words his great-grandfather had used so many years ago. “The letter,” she said softly.

  “The letter. I never imagined a piece of parchment could change my life, but here we are. Don’t leave me,” he implored, searching her gaze intently. “Don’t leave us. Victoria and I need you, Athena. Until you brought light into our lives I didn’t realize how dark it had become. Like my great-grandfather, I am no poet. All I can say is that I love you, and I hope that is enough.”

  “It’s enough,” Athena whispered. “It’s always been enough.”

  Flinging her arms around his neck, she rose up on her toes and kissed him right there, in the middle of the docks for everyone to see. “Does that answer your question?” she murmured against his lips.

  “Impertinent American,” he teased, tucking a loose tendril of hair behind her ear