Duke In Disguise (The Stafford Sisters Book 1) Page 2

  “It will be all right. I promise you.”

  Lydia could only shake her head as her lips tightened in obvious disapproval. “Perhaps you should send Isabell. If she is caught, she can claim ignorance. Heaven knows the girl gets away with everything as it is.”

  “Send me where?” their youngest sister said as she stormed into the kitchen through the back door. The girl had only recently started to break out of that gawky, long-limbed stage. Ann’s heart softened as she watched the young girl.

  “Where have you been?” Lydia demanded. “You were supposed to dust the front room.”

  “I did it already,” Isabelle said as she snuck a piece of carrot off the cutting board. “And I was up at the main estate. You will never guess what I heard.”

  The thought of her little sister drawing attention to them troubled her. Their aunt was only distantly related to the Earl. He had given her this house to use only because there was not enough land to support a fully functioning farm.

  To make it even more tenable, the three sisters were not even related directly to the Earl himself. At any time, he could well decide that he had closer family more in need. And once again they would find themselves out in the cold.

  The thought of her sister upsetting the people at the estate and word getting back to the Old Earl made her stomach turn over. Luckily, the man was hardly ever in residence. Instead, spending his time in London. A good thing, she thought to herself.

  “Why were you at the main estate?” Ann asked.

  Isabelle smiled a secret smile.

  “A new stable boy has been hired, I bet,” Lydia said as she wiped her hands on her apron.

  Isabelle smiled even wider and Ann knew that Lydia had probably been correct.

  Ann sighed internally. Why couldn’t her sister be drawn to intelligent, well-bred young men? Men who would amount to something? Instead, Isabelle seemed to find the wild ones the most interesting.

  “Do you want to know or not?” the young girl asked.

  “What did you learn?” Lydia asked.

  Isabelle held silent for a moment, obviously enjoying the suspense and the fact that she knew something her older sisters didn’t.

  “The Earl is dead. And his son, the Viscount as well.”

  “What?” Ann snapped as her stomach clenched into a tight ball. Not because she cared about the Earl. She had never actually met the man. No, it was the sudden fear of what this could mean for them.

  Isabelle nodded vigorously. ”Elizabeth, one of the chambermaids, told me.”

  “What, did she join you in spying on the new stable man?” Lydia asked.

  Isabelle’s cheeks grew a little pink as she glanced down at the floor. It seemed Lydia had been right and hit the mark. A flash of anger filled Ann. Didn’t her sisters realize what this could mean? The new Earl had no family obligation to care for Aunt Ester. He could very well tell them to leave at any time.

  “When?” Ann asked as her mind whirled. What other options did they have? There was a distant cousin that lived in Yorkshire. But she was even poorer than themselves and could never take them in. Her stomach turned over with pure fear.

  “Several weeks ago,” she said, “they only learned yesterday when a letter came from London.”

  “Did they say anything about the new Earl?” Ann asked as she scrambled to push back the fear that had settled at the bottom of her stomach.

  Isabelle shook her head. “No, they know nothing more. Although Caroline did say that Mr. Wesley, the butler, mentioned that there was every chance that the Earl might not come to the estate himself. She said that he wouldn’t stop talking about how today’s nobility just wasn’t as good as the older generation.”

  “You shouldn’t be gossiping with the servants,” Lydia said as she shook her head. “It is unbecoming of a lady.”

  Isabelle stared at her sister with disbelief. “We aren’t ladies, remember? If we were, we wouldn’t be living in a cold cottage in the middle of nowhere. You wouldn’t be making stew again for the fourth time this week.”

  Lydia lifted her nose a little and said, “That doesn’t mean we can’t act correctly. Momma would have wanted us to.”

  Ann shook her head. This was an old argument between the two of them. Lydia regretted all they had lost. The chance of a season. The possibility of meeting and marrying a rich, powerful husband. Isabelle regretted the expectations of being a lady without any of the benefits. The constraints naturally pulled at her. Hemming her in, as it were.

  Deciding the best way to stop this argument was to separate them before it became a yelling match. She asked Isabelle to retrieve some water from the well and handed her the bucket.

  “And don’t go running off again,” Lydia said as the young girl exited, letting the backdoor slam behind her.

  Lydia sighed heavily as she closed her eyes for a moment, obviously to gather herself and stop from screaming after her sister. She turned to Ann and frowned.

  “Will we be alright, do you think?” she asked with an obvious fear behind her eyes.

  Ann sighed, her stomach told her that she should be worried. Very worried. But there was no need to frighten Lydia.

  “Things will be just fine,” she said as she patted her sister’s arm. “Now then, you finish dinner. I will go give Aunt Ester the news.”

  Ann left her sister and took a deep breath. How would their life change? she wondered. And why had the Viscount died as well? It was as if the world was out to get them. He, as the Earl’s son had been directly related to Aunt Ester. Their chance of remaining would have been so much better.

  .o0o.

  Ann woke with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had spent the night tossing and turning as a desperate fear ate at her. Not for the first time, she re-examined her inability to attract a husband. At nineteen she should have been married.

  But the men in her small world found her intimidating. They didn’t know where to place her. Educated as a lady, she was thought too high in status to be a farmer’s wife. Yet too poor to attract any man with ambition.

  There had been the butcher’s son, Edward. But the man had frightened her. Something about the cold set of his eyes and the way he looked at her as if she were nothing more than a carcass to be hung in his father’s shop. It was enough to turn her away before the thought could even be entertained.

  The realization that she would probably die alone sent another wave of sadness through her. That might be true, she thought. But that did not mean it had to happen to her sisters. No, she would work on finding them suitable husbands when the time arose.

  In the meantime. She must think of what to do if they were turned away from this house.

  Later that morning as she made her way to the main estate’s orchard, she let her mind roam. But once again, she came up blank. Empty, as once again, no solution came to her. Leaving her sick with a tired feeling hanging on her shoulders.

  There was no work she could do. Not really. Perhaps a governess. But that would mean leaving both Lydia and Isabelle, a thought that sent a cold chill through her entire body. Besides, she doubted she could ever find an employer. There was nothing else she was qualified for.

  Sighing, she swung her basket and decided to try and not worry about it for the moment. The day was too perfect to let such sad thoughts occupy her mind. A high blue sky without a wisp of clouds hung over her. A soft breeze with a hint of the coming winter picked at her dress.

  As she approached the orchard, she was careful to make sure that no one was about. Once she was positive that she was alone, she made her way to the tree tucked out of the way. Where all the other fruit trees were lined up in long rows, this one sat to the side, up against the natural forest.

  She wondered briefly if it had been planted at the same time, or if it was an offshoot, sprouting years later.

  Approaching the tree, her heart fell. Someone had taken all the low hanging fruit. A brief anger filled her. How dare they. Someone had stolen the apples befor
e she could steal them.

  She looked up at the higher branches and sighed heavily. The tree was laden with rich red fruit. All of it far out of her reach. Once again, the anger returned. It wasn’t fair. She and her sisters had counted on this tree.

  A fierce determination filled her. She wasn’t going to be denied. Setting her basket down she hiked her dress and started to climb. It was only an apple tree, not some giant oak, she thought.

  Slowly, from branch to branch, she pulled herself higher. As she started to near the fruit, she looked down and was surprised at how high she had climbed. It had seemed a lot closer from down on the ground.

  She set aside the fear that tickled her insides and focused on her goal. Edging out on a branch, she started to pick the fruit only to realize she had no way to hold them.

  No, she thought. She would not be denied. Pulling up the hem of her dress she made a quick pocket and started dropping in fruit. As she cleared an area, she scooted out a little further only to realize she hadn’t thought things through.

  She couldn’t climb down and still hold her gains. Glancing down to judge the distance, her heart jumped. There, beneath the tree stood a handsome man Looking up at her with a quizzical stare.

  Her heart fluttered as she realized just how handsome he was and that she had exposed her petty coats.

  “Who are you?” she demanded as she scowled down at him. The man was dressed in workman’s clothes. Wool pants, a soft cap, and a linen shirt open at the throat. Once again, her stomach fluttered. He had wide shoulders, dark hair, and eyes that looked like they could pierce her very soul.

  He continued to stare up at her with a frown, “Who are you?” he asked.

  The mocking tone of his voice sent a burst of anger through her. She knew everyone at the main estate and this man was not one of them.

  “Go away,” she said, as she shifted on the branch so that he would not see her petticoats.

  He laughed and said, “No. The view is just too much to ignore.”

  Her insides squeezed tight as she felt her cheeks grow warm with embarrassment.

  “You sir, are no gentleman. Please leave,” she begged.

  He slowly shook his head. “Do you need help getting down?” he asked, ignoring her treaty.

  She grimaced. What could she do? To climb down she would surely expose even more of herself. She could well imagine him grinning to himself as he watched her rear end the entire time she was descending down the tree.

  For some reason, the thought troubled her in a strange new way.

  “Please,” she begged again. “You don’t belong here.”

  He continued to look up her as a smile slowly crossed his face. Once again, her stomach fluttered. The man really should smile more often, it made him appear even more dangerous and therefore enticing.

  As she shifted, she heard a slight crack at the other end of the branch. Her insides squealed as she froze in place, afraid to move.

  “You should come down from there before you get hurt,” the stranger said with a concerned look that made her feel special.

  “I will be perfectly all right,” she said just as the branch once again cracked, then let go.

  Ann found herself hanging in mid-air for a moment then she squealed as the world fell out from beneath her.

  As she fell. A thousand thoughts flashed through her mind. What she would never experience. A man’s love. A child of her own. None of this would be hers for surely she was about to die.

  The ground rushed towards her as branches and leaves slapped at her, pretending to slow her fall. Just as she tightened every muscle in her body in anticipation of pain and death, two massive arms snatched her from the air as if she were a bird on the wing.

  “Umph,” he grunted as he took her weight and pulled her close.

  Ann froze with confusion as she tried to understand how she had survived. Then she looked up into his dark eyes and her heart melted. The strange man looked down at her, his eyes holding her in place as his arms held her next to his chest.

  Then he smirked slightly, and she knew she was lost.

  The stranger continued to hold her as if she were nothing more than an afterthought. Her body grew warm as she realized she was alone with a strange man. In his arms in fact.

  “Put me down,” she said, she struggled to get away. Suddenly, the most important thing in her world was to get away before she became lost forever.

  He smirked again and slowly let her feet down. Then he stood up and stared down at her, his eyes scanning her face, as if memorizing everything about her. Their eyes locked and Ann forgot everything else except the man standing before her.

  Finally, her brain settled enough for her to remember her manners.

  “Thank you, sir,” she said as she continued to look up at him.

  He smiled slightly. “My pleasure Miss?”

  Ann took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “Ann, Ann Stafford.”

  He smiled again and bowed as he tipped his cap, “Daniel, Daniel Marlow. At your service.”

  Chapter Three

  The Duke of Norwich studied the young woman and smiled to himself. How could he not? The woman was remarkable. Beautiful, in that innocent, yet enticing way some women had. No false fabrication. No artifice. Just a simple fresh country miss.

  Long brown hair. Eyes that sparkled with promise. A heart-shaped face designed by a master craftsman. And a figure that pulled at his very soul.

  Yes. Remarkable.

  He thought for a moment and realized that no other woman in his experience would have ever dreamt of climbing an apple tree. The idea would never have even entered their mind. Yet, this young woman had risked her very life for a few apples.

  The idea of a lady of the ton doing such a thing seemed preposterous.

  Add to that, the fact that the woman had come close to death yet shed no tears. No screams of woe or display of terror. She hadn’t hung to him like a frightened child. No batting of the eyelashes or touching of the hair. Nothing to entice him closer.

  No, in fact, she had pulled away as soon as her wits had returned. And even now, she appeared to desire to be somewhere else. Her flushed cheeks and the way she looked at the ground.

  “Thank you again, kind sir,” she said as she scurried to put the fallen apples into her basket.

  She’s going to leave, he realized. Run off like a fairytale princess and he’d never see her again.

  “Can I help?” he asked as he moved to take her basket from her. Perhaps if she let him carry it home, he could discover where she lived.

  “No!” she said as she pulled the basket away from him. “That is all right. I am perfectly capable.”

  A sudden disappointment flashed through him. She really did wish to be gone from him. How strange. For the first time, he regretted using his proper name. Perhaps if he had introduced himself by his title, she might not be in such a rush.

  Yet, for some reason, he didn’t wish this woman to think of him as nothing more than a mere duke. He enjoyed the idea of her thinking of him as the strange man who had saved her life. Daniel Marlow, wandering workman.

  Stepping back, he watched as she gathered the last apple then turned to him, her brow furrowed for a moment.

  “Why are you here?” she asked, obviously confused and perhaps a little curious.

  “Obviously, to save young women falling from apple trees,” he replied.

  Her cheeks grew even pinker as she once again looked down at the ground, unable to meet his gaze.

  She continued to frown, then curtsied slightly and said, “Thank you again. But I must be off.”

  A sudden bolt of worry hit him. “Might I accompany you?” he said. “We seem to be going the same way.”

  She stopped and turned on him as her forehead wrinkled even more with confusion. “There is nothing this way except our home.”

  Daniel frantically sought an excuse. “I thought to walk along the stream. It is a beautiful day.”

  The young
woman continued to frown. “Don’t you have work to do?”

  His insides tightened up, a thousand traps lay around him. The woman was right. Men did not spend their days meandering through the woods for no good reason. It took work from dawn to dusk to keep oneself and his family alive.

  “I am in search of employment at the moment,” he said realizing immediately how that would lower his status in this woman’s eyes. A fact that he found particularly disturbing.

  She stopped again and examined him, really examined him. Her brow narrowed. “You don’t look like a farm laborer.”

  “Why not?” he asked before he thought the matter through. He had purposely obtained the appropriate clothes. Well, in fact, Old Stevenson had obtained them and assured him they were appropriate.

  The young woman laughed, “For about a dozen different reasons.”

  “And they are?” he asked as a sinking feeling settled into the bottom of his stomach.

  She sighed as she set her basket down and examined him once again.

  “Your clothes are too new. There are no mended seams, no patches. Therefore, they are only recently purchased. And not homemade either, the weave is too tight.”

  This woman was intelligent, he realized as the sudden fear of his secret being exposed filled him with worry. Brookenham would be so disappointed in him.

  “What else?” he asked her as she continued to study him.

  “Your hands,” she said. “They are too soft.”

  A sense of shame hit him, “No they aren’t,” he snapped back as he flexed his fists. These very hands had fallen Big Jim McDermid only two weeks earlier. How dare she say they were soft.

  Without warning she reached out and took his hand in hers, turning it over. “See,” she said, “No calluses,” she said as she ran a finger across his palm. A warm shiver flashed through his body at her touch.

  “A music teacher’s hands,” she said with a shake of her head. “But you are no music teacher.”

  “How can you be sure?” he asked while silently agreeing with her. The most he knew about music was that he didn’t care for it.