Chapter Four

True to his word, for that was something he never went back on, Luke had the nursery moved off the third floor and into one of the rooms in the north wing of the house. Near his room. Just like he didn’t want to be sleeping near Percy, he didn’t want the girls sleeping on that side of the house, either.

Nor Aislinn.

That had been the only positive thing about them being up on the third floor—that Aislinn was with the girls. She was as protective as a mother hen, and he appreciated that.

He still believed that he was the reason Percy had fired her. First, they’d tried to make her life so miserable that she’d leave on her own, and when that hadn’t worked, they’d taken another route.

Aislinn’s care was more than up to anyone’s standards. Beyond anyone’s standards. Percy and Hazel had wanted her gone, before he ever arrived. Moving her and the girls to the third floor had been an attempt to make her leave.

Though the tiny space up there had been neat and clean, moving them into that room had been to prove one thing. That Percy had control over everyone and everything in the house.

Or so he thought.

His brother had inherited the Dukedom, as was his right as the second brother, the next male in succession. It could only be taken away by an Act of Parliament or Royal prerogative, which rarely, if ever, happened, and in this case wouldn’t, because Percy wasn’t committing treason or some other vital disrespect of the crown. If Rowland had left behind a son, instead of daughters, things would be different. The son would have inherited the title and consequential holdings.

Now, according to all rights and passages, the next in line was Caldwell—the young lad Luke had yet to meet.

That would happen in time, but it wasn’t the issue at hand. Luke wasn’t interested in having the Dukedom removed from his brother or his brother’s son. He had never wanted the title, nor the life that went along with it, and never would. However, in opposition to what others may think, he did want his family’s name to remain in good grace. He also wanted Fern and Ivy to receive what was rightfully theirs.

Where Percy was overstepping was in the fact that he was pretending to have inherited everything, which he had not. The title did come with holdings, including an estate, but that estate wasn’t this manor house. The ruins of what had been a castle, six miles to the north, that had been abandoned by the Duke four generations before them, was the home that went with the title. Their great-grandfather had married a neighbour and, subsequently, moved into her home—the manor house. The manor had become their family home, but was not part of the entitled holdings of the Duke of Havenbrook.

Luke knew the story well. As a child, he’d often pretended to be a knight, fighting off foot soldiers with branches broken off the trees that had grown up around the broken-down stone wall surrounding the ruins.

He grinned at the memory. Not only because he’d always had fun exploring the old ruins, but because he remembered when Aislinn had asked him how far he’d had to walk, and he’d asked her which time.

There, at those ruins, had been the first time he’d been left afoot. His horse had become spooked by a flock of birds that had been roosting in the trees and, unprepared, he’d lost his seat in the saddle. He’d walked the full six miles. Upon arriving home after dark, by which time his mother had been near the peak of hysterics, fearing something dreadful had happened to him, his father had told him all about their ancestor. The first Duke of Havenbrook had been a commoner, but the monarch had bestowed the title upon him for his bravery and skill on the battlefield.

It was after hearing that story that his own wanderlust had fully taken root. Dreams of travelling to foreign lands, of battling unknown adversaries and taking on new challenges, consumed his young mind. He’d known then that he could never stay here. Knew deep in his very soul that he needed to leave, to find the place where he could create a life, build a legacy that would make him happy.

He’d found that life in America, but he still had duties that he needed to fulfil from his old life, because that, too, was a part of who he was.

The manor had housed the family for generations and would continue to do so. But it was a Carlisle family holding, not a Duke of Havenbrook holding. Upon the death of their father, ownership had been divided equally between him, Percy, and Rowland. Now, since Rowland’s death, the house belonged to him, Percy, and Fern and Ivy. With him being the twins’ guardian, that meant he owned two-thirds to Percy’s one-third.

Letting out a sigh of longing, Luke looked at the pair of boots he’d taken off a short time ago, which were now sitting next to the wardrobe in the suite he’d be calling his room for the time being. He and those boots had put in a lot of miles together. The leather had formed to his feet long ago, making them comfortable and familiar.

The ones he’d just pulled on came up to his knees, and had his toes bunched up together like five puppies vying for the same teat.

He didn’t know where Christopher had come up with the clothes filling the wardrobe, but they would do while he was here. They wouldn’t be as comfortable as he was used to, because they were far more formal. The ruffles on the white shirt were already tickling his neck, and not in a way that made him want to laugh.

Pushing himself off the chair, he had a quick glance in the mirror and let out a chuckle. If he were back in Montana, Raf would have several choice words for his attire. He’d claim the ruffles alone would spook the cattle.

The high-waisted, grey and black plaid wool pants were snug. The suspenders were more for looks than actually needed to hold up the pants. The white shirt had ruffles down the front and around the neck and wrists, and the vest was made of silk, both the gold printed front and black back. So was the ascot around his neck.

He’d put these clothes on after his bath because he was respectful of customs. His family had always dressed for dinner, and he was certain that hadn’t changed.

The clothes might have been Rowland’s, and considering he no longer needed them, Luke was certain his brother wouldn’t mind him wearing them. Truth was, if Rowland was here, he would have given him the shirt off his back if needed. That’s the kind of man, and brother, Rowland had been.

The house, the whole place, felt different, empty and sad, without Rowland here, and Luke had to admit that he felt that way, too.

Maybe the clothes would make him feel like a part of Rowland was with him. He wouldn’t mind that even one little iota.

He’d thanked Christopher for the clothes, and for Benjamin, the young man he’d sent to see to his needs, whose parents worked the estate. Up until today, he’d been a stable boy. Having someone to run errands and make requests on his behalf would be just fine, and he’d informed the young Benjamin, who was clearly still wet behind the ears, that he’d welcome his help, other than with getting dressed. He’d do that all on his own, and had sent him away as soon as his bath was ready.

Forgoing a hat, despite how naked he felt without it, Luke grabbed the frock coat from where it had been laid out on the bed. Hooking it over his shoulder with one thumb, he left the bedroom and crossed the sitting room to exit the suite.

A short distance down the hall, he knocked on a door.

The door opened, and he gave Aislinn a nod. ‘Are the three of you all settled in the new rooms?’

‘Yes, thank you.’ She stepped back so he could see into the room.

The sitting room furniture had been rearranged to make room for a child-sized table and chairs, shelves holding books and toys, and several other items. ‘You each have a bed?’ he asked. The girls had shared one bed in the room on the third floor, and from what he’d seen, Aislinn’s bed had been nothing but a narrow cot.

‘Yes, thank you.’

He’d instructed Christopher that the new nursery should have two bedrooms, and had examined this suite of rooms himself to make sure it would be suitable before he’d ordered the move to take place.

Fern and Ivy had noticed it was him at the door and left their small table. In the past, he’d never taken a lot of notice of children, leastwise not since he’d been one, but had to say that these two girls were as cute as they came. They’d inherited the Carlisle hair, black and thick. He had to have his cut regularly or he ended up looking like a sheep needing to be sheared.

On his nieces, the hair was adorable. Long, with sections tied on their crowns with ribbons, it was a thick mass of soft waves that reached well past their shoulders. Their deep blue eyes stood out on their round little faces, where button noses and rosy cheeks added to their cherub appearances. While outside earlier, he’d noticed the tiny mole on Ivy’s nose that Aislinn had mentioned, and he’d also observed that she’d been correct in saying Fern was more outgoing, while Ivy waited to see how things were playing out before joining the foray.

Even now, Ivy stood a step behind her sister.

‘Would you like to have a tea party with us?’ Fern asked.

He could guarantee he’d never tried a cup of invisible tea in his life, yet it sounded far more inviting than what was waiting downstairs for him. His mother had been a stickler for the entire family being present for pre-dinner drinks at least half an hour prior to dinner being served.

‘Your uncle is due downstairs for dinner,’ Aislinn said softly.

Fern accepted the answer with a nod, though Luke saw the disappointment on her face, and on Ivy’s. While they’d been outside, blowing the heads off dandelions, Aislinn had mentioned how Rowland had spent time with the twins regularly, and how much they’d missed that.

He was no replacement for their father. Never would be, but he was their uncle and that was a role he could create to be the next best thing.

‘I am due downstairs,’ he said, mind made up. ‘But I have time for a cup of tea.’

Fern took one hand and, in order for Ivy to take the other, he handed Aislinn his frock coat. The girls led him to the table, where, afraid of breaking the legs off the small chair, he chose to sit on the floor.

As well as invisible tea, he was given a plate holding invisible biscuits with sweet icing. He could imagine them. They had been a favourite of his. That was one of the things American’s got wrong. A biscuit is a cookie, not a bread roll.

‘Did you have a biscuit after your dinner?’ he asked, knowing they, along with Aislinn, had already eaten their dinner in this room. That’s where he’d eaten his meals too, in the nursery with whatever household staff had been assigned to watch over him. He was sure he’d had a governess as an infant, even a small child, just couldn’t completely recall any one in particular. At age ten, he was sent to boarding school, and during his time at home from then on he was allowed to eat with the adults, unless there was a specific event that he was still considered too young to attend.

‘No,’ Fern replied with a sigh. ‘We haven’t had biscuits in ages.’

‘Ages, is it?’ he asked, holding in a chuckle at her embellished grievance.

‘The Duchess says they aren’t good for little girls,’ Fern said.

Ivy nodded. ‘Only boys.’

Luke set down the tiny teacup, afraid the ire creeping in might make his fingers tighten so hard the tiny handle would snap. ‘Well, now, I must say, I’ve never heard that before. But these biscuits that you just gave me were the best I’ve ever eaten.’ He gave them each a tiny flick on the ends of their noses, then stood up. ‘I must be going, but will see you both tomorrow.’

He’d have biscuits for them, too, but would keep that as a surprise.

They bid him goodbye, and Aislinn handed him his coat.

She also walked him to the door, where she quietly said, ‘Forgive me, but considering that I now work for you, there is something I’d like to know before morning.’

‘All right. What’s that?’ She hadn’t dipped into a curtsey, and he appreciated that. Putting aside mannerisms that she’d been required to use for years would take time, and he’d have to give her that. He did wish that she didn’t appear to be ready to take flight anytime he stepped close. Then again, he could understand her wariness, for she had been mistreated. She and the twins had all been mistreated, and he didn’t like that. Not at all.

‘I was wondering what you would like me to wear.’

Her head was dipped down, but he noticed the flush of her cheeks. He scratched the side of his face, wondering when and if he’d said something about her dress. Something unflattering? He was certain he hadn’t, but might have inadvertently. He was known to speak before he thought at times. ‘Wear?’

‘Yes.’ She swallowed visibly and turned redder.

He glanced down at her white blouse and black skirt. They covered everything from her neck to her wrists and ankles. ‘What’s wrong with what you have on?’

‘They—’ She took a deep breath and lifted her face to look at him. ‘They aren’t mine. When I was dismissed, I was told that, although the governess uniforms had been purchased on my behalf, they were property of the Duke.’

He’d thought he had enough fodder against Percy, but it just kept coming. At every corner... It. Just. Kept. Coming. ‘Is that what you’re wearing now? A governess’s uniform?’

‘No. Mrs Taylor gave me this skirt and blouse so I’d have something to wear when I left.’

He had to take a deep breath and hold it until it burned his lungs, to keep from saying the curses that were in his mind. The silent words he was calling Percy and Hazel were as unpleasant as words could get. If anyone deserved them, though, it was those two. They would have sent her away naked and not given it a second thought.

While letting the air out slowly through his nose, he ran his tongue over his upper front teeth, just to make sure he had full control over it. ‘Do you have the uniforms?’

She nodded.

‘Wear them.’

The way she blinked and leaned back told him that his tone was harsher than it should have been. He hadn’t meant to scare her. Without her, he’d be up a creek without a paddle. Reaching out, he touched her arm, softly and quietly cleared his throat. ‘You can wear anything you want.’

She nodded, and did her best to give him a ghost of a smile.

It wasn’t like him to be unsure of himself, yet he was with her. There was something about her that made him genuinely want to comfort her, to wrap his arms around her and give her a solid hug. Tell her that he was here now, that things were going to work out just fine.

He’d never thought twice about protecting a woman in danger. Hell, he’d saved two women from drowning in a river once, at the same time. He’d dragged them both up onto the bank before Raf had pulled his boots off. In Raf’s defence, they had been new boots and his horse wasn’t as fast as Buck, which meant Raf had only just arrived at the riverbank when he was already pulling the women onto dry ground.

This was different, though. She was different—and not just because she wasn’t a dance hall gal like those women had been.

She was different from all other women he’d met, in a way that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but she sure did tug at his insides. There was something really compelling about her. More than compelling, she was captivating, and he couldn’t claim that it was just because of her caring nature towards Fern and Ivy.

At the same time, the idea of him finding any woman captivating was as out of character for him as the ruffles on the shirt he wore.

Stepping backwards, he grabbed the doorknob and pulled the door open behind him. ‘Good night, Aislinn.’

‘Good night,’ she said.

He walked into the hall, pulling the door closed behind him. There, while drawing in a well needed breath of air, he realised she hadn’t said his name. Not once since he met her.

Why should that matter to him? He had far bigger fish to fry.

Just the same, he’d like to hear her say it.

The air escaping Aislinn felt as shaky as her hands, which were indeed trembling. Her intention had been to not offend anyone by wearing the wrong thing, but it appeared as if she’d made a catastrophe out of something as silly as a uniform. She could have simply asked Mrs Taylor if she could keep the skirt and blouse for now.

Instead, she’d vexed Luke. The anger in his eyes had been startling, as had the harshness of his tone.

She took a hesitant step forward and grasped the knob to check that the door was shut securely. Unaccustomed to the trials, tribulations, and chaos of the day, she leaned her head against the door and closed her eyes.

The quiet solace she sought wasn’t there. Instead, her usually steadfast mind, filled with a common sense that she often prided herself on, told her to get used to it. Because as long as Luke was in this house, there would be chaos.

His letters had been full of chaos. Luke, and the old Duke, had referred to them as adventures. But tussling with a mountain lion was not a grand adventure. It was dangerous. Maddeningly dangerous.

So was fighting with the new duke.

Luke shouldn’t have been worried about being blindsided, he should have feared entering the lion’s den. That’s what he’d done, and she wasn’t the kind of partner he needed to help him.

She was a governess, for goodness’ sake.

A lowly servant. All she knew how to do was care for children.

An involuntary stiffness entered her spine, and she turned, looking at where Fern and Ivy were busy playing with their dolls. Now that they’d been moved into a larger room, there was space for their doll beds and other toys that had been boxed up and stored on the third floor. Much like they themselves had been boxed up and stored there.

That’s what it had felt like, and she should have protested. This was Fern and Ivy’s home. They should never have been moved to the third floor. It’s just that she’d never been one to protest or cause problems. It scared her to be in the middle of all that was going on, but that was exactly where she was.

Yet, she knew that wasn’t the only thing unsettling her. Luke himself, his handsomeness, his overall charisma, did strange things to her insides. He was quite extraordinary—in many ways—which would explain why she found it difficult to draw a steady breath in his presence.

If he was successful in keeping guardianship, something she sincerely hoped would happen, and then returned to America, he would need someone who knew more than simply how to care for children to remain with the girls. He would need someone who could stand up for Fern and Ivy, someone who would fight future injustices on their behalf during his absence. One who wouldn’t sit back and allow them to happen.

Someone more like him.

If she had any hope of remaining with the girls, she needed to become that person, rather than acting like a ninny who had never seen a handsome man before.

She stiffened her spine even more, squared her shoulders. What happened this morning would not happen again. She would not be separated from Fern and Ivy until her job was done. Until the day arrived when they were mature enough to not need her any longer.

For that to happen, for them to grow into women who would one day assume their positions in the ranks of society, their birthrights as daughters of a duke, they would need more than a governess. Without their mother, who had not only been loving and kind, but steadfast and confident, the girls only had one woman to look up to. To count on. To emulate. That was her.

A splattering of shame washed over Aislinn. The old Duchess would have been sorely disappointed to know that she hadn’t fought against being moved to the third floor. Fought against abandoning the girls.

Leslie would have been more than sorely disappointed, she would have been outraged over the treatment of her children.

Just like Luke had been. Just like she should have been.

She’d told herself that she was simply a governess and couldn’t do anything to oppose the new Duke and Duchess. That was an excuse. She wasn’t simply a governess. She was the governess.

The one who had been put in charge of the Duke and Duchess’s most prized possessions.

The one who was now Luke’s partner. He needed someone he could count on. She trusted him, but she needed to become someone he could trust in return. He’d said he needed her help, and so far, she hadn’t offered any.

She’d been granted four years of watching and admiring the old Duchess; it was time she used what she’d learned.

‘Is something wrong, Aislinn?’ Fern asked, staring at her from across the room.

‘No,’ Aislinn assured her. From the moment she’d become their governess, these girls became her family. The family she’d never had. She moved, crossing the room towards them. ‘But it is time to put your dolls to bed and for the two of you to put on your nightclothes.’

‘You won’t be gone when we wake up again, will you?’ Ivy asked.

Aislinn’s heart nearly broke in two, yet at the same time, her determination to make the needed changes inside herself was doubly reinforced. Dropping to her knees, she pulled Ivy into a hug. ‘No, poppet. I won’t be gone. I’ll be right here when you wake up, I promise.’

Holding out a single arm, she invited Fern to join in on the hug.

They were so precious, and they needed her, loved her, as much as she did them. She couldn’t fail them again. Wouldn’t fail them again. This time, she did have a saving grace. He went by the name of Luke Carlisle.

She wouldn’t fail him, either. There was too much at stake.

‘I like our new room,’ Fern said, wiggling out of the hug.

Aislinn released Ivy and planted a quick kiss on each of their foreheads. ‘I do, too.’

‘I like Uncle Luke,’ Ivy said.

‘I do, too,’ Aislinn agreed. Her heart had beat frantically earlier, when she opened the door and saw him standing there, dressed in his finery. He was handsome no matter what he wore. He was also confident. His stature alone said he was a man to be reckoned with. She couldn’t let that scare her—for that had to be the cause of her racing pulse. He was exactly what the girls needed.

‘Come,’ she said, rising to her feet. ‘Let’s put on your nightclothes and then you can each pick out a book for me to read to you before bedtime.’

The girls readily agreed, and soon all three of them were snuggled on the sofa, reading two of their favourite books. The stories were long and both girls were asleep before she was halfway through the second story.

One at a time, she carried them to their beds, and after tucking the covers around each twin, she stood between the beds for several still moments, simply watching them sleep, much like she’d stood in the doorway this morning.

That had been mere hours ago, yet it felt like a lifetime. So much had happened since then. She truly had been given a second chance, and would not squander it.

As if he stood behind her, rather than in her mind, Aislinn heard the words that Luke had spoken that morning.

‘The challenge of the unknown is what makes it an adventure.’

She had to become adventurous, and strong, and steadfast, and confident, and a number of other things. For the girls and for him.

The idea scared her. She’d never been adventurous, but it was also thrilling to think of all the things he’d seen and done. He was all that she’d imagined he’d be, and more.

Brushing her hair as she prepared for bed, her thoughts remained on Luke, and something else he’d said. About wagon trains. She’d read about them, but the conviction in his voice when he talked about them is what struck a chord in her. How he’d said that those people were armed with little more than determination. How that took courage, bravery.

What she remembered most, though, about what he’d said, was how he respected those people.

She was a servant, nothing would ever change that, but what he’d said defined the difference between being submissive and being respectful in a way she’d never considered.

Setting the brush on the dresser, she concluded that she had a lot to learn.

Later, after putting on her nightgown and lying in her bed, which was much more comfortable than the one she’d had the last few months, Aislinn closed her eyes and willed her mind to go back in time. To remember everything that she could about the old Duchess. The things she’d said, the way she’d carried herself, the way she’d interacted with others.

Leslie Carlisle had been a beautiful woman, slender, elegant in structure, with golden hair and blue eyes. She never appeared alarmed or overly excited. She’d been poised at all times, regal in how she ran the household, and loving towards her husband and children.

That was the kind of woman Luke needed as a partner. Aislinn knew she could never become the person Leslie had been, but she couldn’t imagine a better example from whom to learn all she needed to know. Except the old Duchess was no longer alive. Memories were all she had, so when faced with a challenge, she would need to ask herself—how would the old Duchess have responded? And hope to heaven she remembered correctly.

Or at least remembered enough.

It wasn’t going to be easy, but at least she had a starting point.