Nightingale. Part 11

"The old duke asked me right off if I had a temper and I told him I had, but I kept it under control, for the most part.

"He asked if I was a decent hunter, a fisherman, and swordsman. He said I looked like a bonny fighter. I a.s.sured him I was all of those and more. That seemed to please him well enough. He shouted for Patterson to find Devlin and send him to us."

Bear grinned at the memory. "He told Patterson not to bother to have the boy wash. Told me the middle son - nine years old, he were then - wouldn't stay clean long enough to make was.h.i.+ng worth our wait.

"As you might suppose, I took to Devlin right off, and he to me. The duke set most of his attention on training the older boy, Rothchild. He took little time or trouble with the younger ones.

"Lattimore - Lattie - he was only five years old when I come here. He mainly stayed with the nanny and the governess.

"But Devlin," his grin broadened, "was as fearless and adventurous as any boy born." Bear sent her a pride-filled glance while his grumbling words seemed to contradict his expression. "That's a bad combination in a youngster running unhobbled like he was." He stopped talking as if he were lost in his memories.

"You've been with them ever since?"

"Yes."

"Were you able to conquer Devlin's wildness?"

Bear laughed and shook his head. "Not so much conquered as reined it in a bit. I gave guidance here and there as I could. I never had no intention of breaking his spirit.

"The boy had a natural inclination with animals, particularly horses. He had no fear - not even enough to show a proper regard for wild things, in particular those a man is hunting. I sometimes helped best by letting him get into trouble. I only let him suffer enough to teach him to curb his riskiness some."

Bear touched the thin strip of his scalp where hair no longer grew. He smoothed his hair over with his hand so that the spot was covered. Was the scar a memento of his own youthful excesses, or of Devlin's?

"I tried to advise the boy before he stumbled into real danger. I helped him when he caught some of the hard lessons. If I didn't keep them from happening, I was there to pick up the pieces after."

"Like what?"

He appeared to approve the question. "Devlin broke his arm riding a waterfall that dropped fifty feet to feed the Longrine River."

"How old was he then?"

"I believe he was twelve, or nearly so."

"Did he cry?"

"Nah. He was trying to be a man by then. It took more than a broken arm to make him cry."

"How was it repaired?"

"I didn't bother the duke with it right off. I took the boy straight away to Dr. Brussel. He set the bone mending before nightfall. The excitement was past before we told the duke and d.u.c.h.ess."

"Did you like all three boys?"

"G.o.d's truth, I loved each one for being just who he was, but it was Devlin who was turned more to my ways."

"Were you devastated when Rothchild died?"

He looked surprised. "Of course. We all was ruined for a time. Soon after, the old duke talked to me about how it was even more important that I watch closer after Devlin."

"And .... ?" she began but stopped as Bear glanced at the sun and interrupted.

"Here now, we need to get going."

They had a long way to go, yet she wanted to learn more of Devlin as a boy. As they walked back to the coach, she prodded Bear again. "Was Devlin more careful after his brother died?"

"No. If anything, he was more daring."

"How do you mean?"

"Not long after Roth died, Devlin intentionally offended the Black Tartan at the gaming tables. Tartan would have killed him for sure."

"You prevented that?"

"I drugged his drink."

"The Tartan's?"

"Devlin's."

"Oh."

Acknowledging her surprise, Bear's laugh rumbled. "The new heir to the t.i.tle made quite a spectacle of hisself, sliding out of his chair and into a heap under the table. Dropped near a whole room full of drunken gamblers to their knees, rolling with laughter and bawdy talk about a boy with a mouth big enough to bait the Tartan being yet too green to hold his liquor." Bear hesitated. "I don't recall that I ever confessed that particular deed. I can't say I ever planned to. I'd just as soon you didn't mention it."

Jessica smiled, pleased that she and Bear shared a confidence. "Was he ever sickly?"

"Devlin? Nah. When he was, I nursed 'im through it, and through those heartbreaks a young man is bound to tumble into from time to time."

She felt as if a rock had hit the bottom of her stomach. "When he was in love?"

"Not that he ever was what you might consider in love, but he was a fair one to fall into infatuations easy enough."

"Have there been many women in his life?"

"He's had his share. He's a handsome fella'. Also, a' course, being rich as he is and with a t.i.tle and property and all. Well, them's the sorts of things that draws the ladies like bears to honey."

"You don't think he has been in love?"

"No." He eyed her oddly. "Not before now, anyhow. Most of the ladies in polite society disappoint him when they turn out to be less than the ideal woman an impressionable young man dreams up in his own mind."

They reached the coach door.

"Did he ever make a fool of himself over a woman?"

"Once, maybe. It came down to a duel. It had been a duel that killed Roth, a' course. I was not gonna let that happen to the old duke's family again. I sent word to the prefect of police who was at the site waiting for the partic.i.p.ants when we arrived.

"That policeman give the opponents a lecture. Told 'em about horrible diseases in his jail. He made promises, said he had no forbearance with young men with nothing better to do than challenge one another to duels. He said if they wanted to fight, they should buy theirselves a commission and go into the military. So that's what Devlin did."

"He did?"

Bear opened the coach door, caught the back of Jessica's elbow and rather firmly directed her inside.

"I went along, a' course. Our soldiering was cut short when the d.u.c.h.ess sent word the old duke was dying. We went home in a hurry." He slammed the coach door. "Just as this party is gonna do right now."

The Twelfth Duke of Fornay paced the library. Instead of calming him, his mother's reading quietly in the chair near the window irritated him. Out of habit, he looked toward her and was soothed by the silhouette of her profile against the sunlight streaming behind her.

He stopped mid-stride.

It was the miracle he had sought. He could see. Not details, but shapes. Outlines of furnis.h.i.+ngs and his mother's form. The joyous shout nearly erupted before he thought. What changes might this miracle cause? He needed to put this into perspective before he shared it.

He should be jubilant. And he was, but if his sight had returned, he would no longer need Jessica's. He was not prepared to lose her - not yet. He wanted her near. Not just for her eyes.

As he pondered, a cloud blotted the sun. He lost the visual images and was once again blind.

The glimpse raised possibilities and, along with them, angst he did not expect. Return of his sight certainly presented new possibilities. He needed to harvest the benefits Nightingale provided - her exuberance, her optimism, her bright good cheer. The dowager was attached to the child as well. The entire household reflected her influence.

There were positive aspects for Jessica as well. He and the dowager could provide advantages for such a bright girl, establish her a place in society. Make a decent match for her.

Using his cane, Devlin fumbled his way back to his chair and sat heavily.

His returning eyesight presented a whole new realm of possibilities, not all of them pleasant.

Chapter Eight.

True to his word, Devlin was pacing the steps of his great house as the coach bearing the ducal crest returned. It was nearing midnight and Jessica was exhausted but unable to sleep, excited by her return to Gull's Way. It seemed as if she had been gone for days instead of hours.

She doubted he would be waiting as he had said, yet she recognized the figure on the steps. He stood like a statue, bent slightly, both hands clasped on the cane in front of him.

Jessica threw open the coach door before the conveyance stopped and leaped. Her feet flying, disregarding pride and petticoats, she bolted over the graveled drive and bounded up the stairs.

Grinning, the duke tossed his cane to the side, opened his arms and braced himself. She leaped and he caught her up entirely, wrapping his arms all the way around her.

Then was the moment she had waited for, perhaps all her life. She was home for, surely, in all the world, this was where she belonged. It was a ridiculous thought, yet she embraced him, pressing her suddenly tear-dampened face to his jaw. She breathed in the familiar scent of him, and felt the tickle of his well-trimmed beard. Home at last.

As he touched his lips to her cool cheek, the rumbling in his chest brought her to her senses. She wriggled, but he did not immediately release her. Instead, he twisted so that her b.r.e.a.s.t.s scrubbed his chest. In her excitement, she had revealed what she had been determined to keep secret.

The man thought her a child. That first night, riding Sweetness, he had run his hands over her shoulders, trailed them down her arms, had even fitted her hips snugly between his legs as she sat the saddle before him. In spite of that intimacy, he considered her an infant. He disregarded her initial claims that she was a grown woman, capable of experiencing the sensuous responses any woman might to such a man.

Holding her closely in this unguarded moment, he would be aware of her prominent b.r.e.a.s.t.s, which she had been able to keep from his sightless scrutiny. In spite of her earlier declarations, Jessica thought it better he not realize her maturity just yet.

Heated by a blush, embarra.s.sed by the joy of luxuriating for those brief moments in his arms, Jessica wriggled until she broke free. Devlin seemed reluctant to yield his hold.

"Oh, Your Grace, I am so sorry. It's a wonder I did not knock you down."

He cleared his throat. "Yes, well, your greeting may have provided a test of my recovery. I proved equal to the challenge, in spite of my surprise." His face took on that mischievous look as he added, "You might say, I was doubly rewarded."

She took his meaning. He had been made aware of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Perhaps they would no longer argue whether she was child or woman. The mystery of that misunderstanding was why other members of the household - his own mother included - who realized the duke's mistake, did not enlighten him, explaining that Jessica was not the moppet he thought.

Tangled in her web of thoughts, Jessica retreated two steps and caught one of Devlin's outstretched hands in both of hers to indicate her whereabouts, then she dropped a full awkward curtsy. She spoke breathlessly.

"Your Grace."

He sobered and adopted her formality. "Was your journey successful, Jessica Blair?"

"Yes. I accomplished everything I set out to do."

"Did you bring your mother home with you then?"

Tears threatened at his referring to his magnificent residence as home, speaking as if it were her permanent abode as well as his. He turned his face toward the carriage as if looking for her companion.

"No, Your Grace, my brother Brandon agreed to be responsible for our mother until you are recovered."

Devlin's expression became playful, but his unseeing eyes narrowed. "How much will Brandon's attendance cost you, Nightingale?"

Her laughter burbled at his usual perceptiveness. "I told him you were paying me one hundred pounds. He and I haggled over what his share should be."

"And?"

"He gets one-third of my purse, but believes that to be thirty-three pounds."

"Of a hundred pounds rather than five hundred pounds?"

"That is correct."

"Not thirty-three and one-third?"

She burbled another giggle. "Brandon is not particularly apt at sums."

"So, you are willing to take advantage of him, are you?"

She stiffened, wondering if his taunt were part insult, until she again noted the mischief in his expression.

"He is older than I, Your Grace, and able to see to his own affairs. He has taken the advantage of me often in the past."

Tugging her hand to pull her close again, Devlin turned her so that her back was to him and set his fingers on her shoulder indicating she should lead him into the house. Henry, the valet, retrieved the cane that had been tossed aside.

"Will he take proper care of your mother and your hens?" Devlin asked.

She a.s.sumed her usual guide's position, one step in front and one to the side.