Between the Devil and Desire (12 page)

“Tell me, Stiles, did the other servants accept my becoming their master as well as you have?”

“I believe they're reserving judgment, sir.”

“A pity the duchess couldn't have done the same,” Jack mumbled. Then he waved Stiles off. “See to your business, while I see to my bath.”

“Yes, sir.”

Stiles quit the room. Jack went into the dressing room. His gaze immediately went to the other door, the
door that led into Olivia's bedchamber. She wouldn't be there now; she'd be with Henry in the nursery. Maybe she'd even sleep in there now that he had no nanny.

Removing his jacket, he wondered if she'd bathed in that copper tub, imagined her lounging back, the heated water steaming her cheeks and throat, causing her hair to curl around her face. He imagined the water lapping at her breasts, her stomach, her hips, her thighs. He imagined her sitting with her knees serving as small islands in the middle of the tub.

He groaned with his body's reaction to the erotic images bombarding him. Damned good thing he'd instructed his manservant to leave. He didn't need to be parading about when his body was standing at full attention.

He removed the remainder of his clothes, stepped into the tub, and sank beneath the water. It was lovely. Absolutely bloody lovely.

Resting his head against the back of the tub, he closed his eyes. He wondered if he'd return to this house every morning to find some crisis afoot. He was going to have to find some time to spend with the boy. He supposed he should talk to Luke, find out what sorts of things a child of the nobility should know. Jack could teach him how to hide—

He chuckled with a mixture of pride and admiration. The boy had done a fairly good job of that himself. He was also more courageous than Jack had originally given him credit for—to hide so close to the lair of the one he feared. Yes, there was more to the boy than Jack had first realized. He still needed nurturing to become a man, but even with his stammering, he had a good
start. If his mother would just give him leave to let go of her skirts.

His mother. Lord, when she was angry, she was something to behold. Jack slid down further in the tub. Not since he was a boy had he had anyone wash him, though he could certainly imagine her gliding the cloth over him. But as she wasn't here, he'd have to do it himself. Pity.

He released a long sigh. He seemed unable to stay angry with her for long. He admired her tenacity when it came to protecting her son. He thought she was probably a woman capable of great love. He'd be content if she'd simply give him the benefit of the doubt from time to time.

 

Olivia didn't want to think that at that very moment, Jack Dodger was in her dressing room…bathing. How would she climb into the tub and sink beneath the water knowing that his bare
person
had touched the same copper as hers? She should share a dressing room only with someone she knew well. While they wouldn't be in the tub at the same time, it still seemed rather intimate and decadent.

And thinking about Jack Dodger's bareness was not what she needed to be concentrating on. She needed to focus on finding Henry a new nanny.

Henry was nestled against her side as they sat on a settee beside the window in the day nursery. He'd tucked his thumb inside his hand and curled his fingers around it, as though determined not to suck on it. Yet if ever a time was right for sucking it, this morning seemed to be it.

She knew he needed to break his habit, but she could hardly fathom that Helen had used so cruel a means to try to stop him from slipping his thumb into his mouth. But as unsettled as she was by Helen's actions, she was even more amazed by Dodger's. Her opinion of him had shifted during those tense moments, shifted in his favor. She'd been on the receiving end of his blistering glare, but it had never burned as hotly as it had when he'd directed it at Helen. Olivia was surprised the young lady hadn't burst into flames.

Olivia had feared Dodger would be as cutting with Henry as he was with her. She'd expected him to give no care to her son's feelings. She'd expected him to be as harsh and unforgiving as he seemed to be with all things. He'd surprised her.

She'd judged Jack Dodger based on conversations she'd had with other ladies. They'd spoken of men coming home in the early hours reeking of drink and women—and Olivia had assumed Jack Dodger drank heavily and fornicated often. One lady had mentioned that her husband had sold her jewelry to acquire funds for his gambling habit—and Olivia had assumed Dodger spent an abundance of time at the gaming tables. He lounged while sitting, and she considered him slovenly. But he dressed impeccably and even now he was bathing.

She'd considered him mean-spirited, and yet he'd not fought back when she'd struck him with the poker. He'd simply moved beyond her reach, when she had little doubt he could have effectively wrestled her to the ground. As bluntly as he'd spoken to Henry to get to the root of the problem, he'd somehow managed
to elicit the child's confidence, and he had confessed everything.

She'd considered him unlikable, but the woman last night—Frannie Darling—had teased and cajoled and even slapped his shoulder playfully. She'd chastised him and he'd not retaliated. He'd taken it as his due.

She'd considered him a man who would do anything for a coin. Her son's finances were now in his hands and he could surely divest him of everything—yet he'd indicated he wouldn't. A ploy perhaps, to cause her to lower her guard. If she trusted him, then he could get away with a good deal more. If she trusted him, might she find herself enjoying his presence? No, never. The only thing they had in common was her son, and they disagreed on every aspect concerning him.

Well, almost every aspect. She did agree with Dodger that Helen had to be dismissed. It was an appalling bit of behavior on her part to use Dodger to frighten her son into behaving. How had she missed that Helen was capable of doing such a thing? Had she made other veiled threats to Henry?

He was such a quiet, good boy. Shy, to be sure, but Olivia had always assumed his stammering was responsible because it embarrassed him. Lovingdon hadn't been concerned by it. “It's the Lovingdon curse. He'll grow out of it. I did.”

So Olivia tried not to worry about it. He was like his father in so many ways. He had his blond hair, but her amber eyes. He had long limbs and she knew eventually he would grow into his father's height. But with Dodger as his guardian, she didn't see how he would acquire his father's dignity.

The door burst open, startling both her and Henry, and Dodger strode in with a confidence she didn't think even Lovingdon had possessed.

“Henry, let's go,” he said.

Henry started to ease away from her, but she drew him back. “Where are you taking him?”

“As I'm his guardian, I don't have to explain my actions to you, but as you're his mother and no doubt concerned about his welfare, I shall tell you. I'm taking him for a ride in my brougham.”

“I thought you were going to sleep.” After hearing something shatter, she'd had a quick word with Stiles after he'd left Dodger's room to make certain everything was all right. He was going to have the remnants of a vase cleared away after Dodger awoke.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I was, but I decided I needed to see to this matter instead.”

“What matter is that?”

She heard a deep purr like that of a large cat contemplating its next victim. “Olivia, you do try my patience. Come on, boy.”

Olivia could feel the tremor that went through Henry before he pulled away from her and got to his feet.

“I can't let you take him anywhere without me,” she said as she rose. “I'll come with you.”

“Shouldn't you be interviewing nannies?”

“I'm going to have one of the chambermaids assume the role until I can gather some recommendations.”

He gave her an impatient glare. “I've had the brougham readied. I'm on a schedule today. I don't have time to wait for the coach, and as you so kindly pointed out, my vehicle is more suited to two.”

“Henry can sit on my lap. I will fight you tooth and nail if need be, but I will not let you take him without me.”

Something shifted in his eyes as though he'd welcome the challenge. She wasn't altogether certain it would end in fisticuffs, but the thought of them wrestling—

“All right, let's go, then. Be quick about it. I haven't all day.”

Grabbing Henry's hand, Olivia wondered what she was getting herself into.

 

Henry sat on his mother's lap. He'd always liked riding in the brougham with his father because the front of it was a window that made it very easy to see everything. He could observe the world and it was all so fascinating.

Although the carriage did seem very small with Mr. Dodger sitting in it. He wondered if his mother had realized how much room Mr. Dodger would take up and how crowded they'd be. He could feel the tension in his mother. She was barely breathing. It was what Henry did when he got frightened at night—he lay in bed, barely breathing, as though somehow bad things couldn't find him if he didn't breathe.

He wondered if his mother was afraid of Mr. Dodger. He wondered if he should be afraid of him. Mr. Dodger had told him he wouldn't burn him, had told Miss Tuppin he didn't care if Henry sucked on his thumb. That had made Henry feel better, but it had also made him want to stop sucking on his thumb, so he was keeping it tucked tightly behind his fingers to prevent his putting it in his mouth.

Mr. Dodger didn't wear a top hat like Henry's father
had done. But he wore a nice black jacket. And his waistcoat was a dark green with gold buttons, not the purple one he'd worn yesterday.

He looked tired. Once he yawned without covering his mouth, which had made Henry's mother sniff. Even Henry knew a gentleman was supposed to put his hand over his mouth when he yawned. After his mother made her sound of displeasure, Mr. Dodger had winked at Henry as though they were sharing a secret. It made Henry think that Mr. Dodger knew the rule about yawning, too, but thought it would be more fun to make Henry's mother sniff. While he didn't think his mother liked Mr. Dodger, he thought maybe Mr. Dodger liked her.

The carriage pulled into a cobbled drive, and Henry could see a large residence looming before them.

“That's Lord Chesney's residence,” his mother said. “It's far too early in the day for a social call.”

“We're not here for a social call,” Mr. Dodger said.

“Why are we here?” his mother asked.

“Because the young duke needs to see him.”

“Whatever for?”

Mr. Dodger was looking forward, but it seemed to Henry that he was suddenly happy. He noticed just the smallest shift in the shape of his mouth as though he might have the tiniest of smiles.

“Because the earl's bitch recently had a litter of puppies.”

Henry thought his heart was going to leap out of his chest. “Puppies?”

Mr. Dodger looked at him and winked again. “Promised you one, didn't I?”

Henry didn't see his hand move, but suddenly he was extending a card toward Henry. “Your calling card.”

“That's the duke's,” his mother said.

“Yes, I found them in a desk drawer. They rightfully belong to your son now, as he's the duke.”

Henry's mother blinked several times, the way she did when she was trying not to cry.

The carriage came to a stop. The footman hopped down, opened the door, and unfolded the steps. Mr. Dodger climbed out. Henry scrambled out after him. Mr. Dodger looked back into the carriage and extended his hand. “Coming, Duchess?”

She looked at Mr. Dodger, then looked at Henry and gave him a sad smile. “I'm in mourning. It wouldn't be proper. Be a gentleman, Henry.”

Henry nodded and looked up at Mr. Dodger. He was a little afraid and wanted to take Mr. Dodger's hand, but Mr. Dodger didn't look at all frightened. He patted Henry's shoulder, which was almost as comforting as taking his hand. “Come along, lad.”

Henry followed Mr. Dodger up the steps and into the house. A butler approached.

“Show him your card,” Mr. Dodger said.

Henry did as he was told. The butler put it on a silver plate and walked away. Henry fought very hard to stand perfectly still, as still as Mr. Dodger. He wanted to hop and jump around and clap his hands. He was getting a puppy.

It seemed forever before a fellow with a large, round belly appeared. “Ah, Your Grace. Mr. Dodger here informed me that you're in want of a puppy.”

“Yes, s-sir.”

He smiled. “I'm Chesney. Sorry about your father. Good man. Very good man.”

Henry was sure he was supposed to say something—

“Thank you, Lord Chesney,” Mr. Dodger said. “The duke appreciates your sentiments.”

“But you're more interested in my dogs, aren't you, lad?”

Henry nodded quickly.

“Come on, then, I have a special room for my collies. I treat them royally…”

As he led them through the house, Lord Chesney continued to talk, telling Henry all about the dogs' history, but Henry barely paid attention. All he cared about was the fact that he was going to have a dog.

Finally, they came to a small room. In a corner on a mound of pillows and blankets was a large white-and-brown dog. Around her three puppies tumbled.

“Go ahead, Your Grace, play with them. See which one suits you.”

Henry sat on the floor and the puppies bounded over to him. He laughed. Lord Chesney crouched beside him. “Which one do you want?”

Henry looked up at Mr. Dodger.

“Don't look to me, lad, look to yourself.”

Henry studied the puppies. It was so difficult to decide. What if he made a mistake?

“There's no wrong answer, lad,” Mr. Dodger said quietly.

Henry snatched up the first puppy that had landed in his lap and hugged him close. “This one!”