A cozy manor? A small family group?

aYou are Mr. Kentas servant?a she asked the groom, following him. aThis is his carriage?a He turned to grin at her in some amusement. aMr. Kent?a he said. aHe had better not hear you call him that, maaam. Heas ahis gracea to the likes of you and me.a aHis grace?a Fleur felt rather as if her knees were turning to jelly beneath her.

aHis grace, the Duke of Ridgeway,a the groom said, looking at her curiously. aDidnat you know?a He strapped her trunk securely to the back of the carriage.

aThe Duke of Ridgeway? There must be some mistake. I was hired as governess to the daughter of a Mr. and Mrs. Kent,a Fleur said.

aLady Pamela Kent, maaam,a the groom said, extending a hand to help her into the carriage. aMr. Houghton was it who hired you? His graceas personal secretary. He must have been having a joke with you.a A joke. Fleur sat in the carriage while the groom climbed to the box, and closed her eyes briefly. Her employer was the Duke of Ridgeway? She had heard of him. He was reputed to be one of the wealthiest peers of the land. Matthew had known his half-brother, Lord Thomas Kent. Kent! She had not even noticed that it was the same name.

She should have done. She should have been very much more on her guard. Matthew knew her employeras brother! But she had never met the man herself. And he would not recognize her or know her name now that she had changed it. She must not start jumping at shadows.

Willoughby Hall. Mr. Houghton had given that name as the home of her employer. But the mind is a strange thing. She had conceived such a strong and early mental impression of the Kent family that she had instantly visualized a modest manor. But she knew of Willoughby. It was one of the largest estates in England and was reputed to have one of the most magnificent mansions and parks in the country, besides.

And then, long before her mind had adjusted itself to the new facts of her existence, the carriage was traveling past a high park wall dotted with mosses and lichens and overhung with ivy, and turning to pass between massive stone gateposts onto a winding avenue lined with lime trees.

She could see rolling lawns dotted with oak and chestnut trees to either side. She even had a momentary glimpse of a group of grazing deer. Then the carriage rumbled over a bridge and she spotted rushing cascades passing below it. But even as she turned her head to get a better look, her attention was distracted.

The lime trees did not stretch beyond the bridge. Open and rolling lawns did nothing to obstruct the view of a mansion whose magnificence made the breath catch in Fleuras throat.

The house had a long front, its low wings extending to either side of a high pedimented central section, its columns of exquisite fluted Corinthian design. A great central lantern and dome rose behind the pediment. The parapets were lined with stone statues, busts, vases, and urns.

A great marble fountain before the house played among clipped hedges and terraces of flowers and greenery.

She had thought Heron House, her own homea"Matthewas homea"quite splendid. It would seem little more than a rustic cottage if set against this.

So much for her cozy manor and small, close-knit family group, Fleur thought, resting her head briefly against the cushions behind her as the carriage drew up before the marble horseshoe steps leading up to the main doors and the piano nobile, the main floor.

But it was the double doors below the steps that opened to admit her, the doors leading to the servantsa quarters. Mrs. Laycock, the housekeeper, would be pleased to receive Miss Hamilton in her private sitting room, a servant informed her with a half-bow before turning to lead the way.

Mrs. Laycock looked rather like a duchess herself, Fleur thought, her slim figure clad simply yet elegantly in black, her silver hair dressed smartly on top of her head. Only the bunch of keys at her waist proclaimed her status as a servant.

aMiss Hamilton?a she said, extending a hand to Fleur. aWelcome to Willoughby Hall. It must have been a long and tedious journey all the way from London. Mr. Houghton informed us that you would be arriving today. I am pleased that his grace has seen fit to employ a governess for Lady Pamela. It is time she had more stimulation for the mind and more activity than an elderly nurse can provide.a Fleur set her hand in the housekeeperas and received a firm handshake. aThank you, maaam,a she said. aI shall do my best to teach the child well.a aIt will not be easy,a Mrs. Laycock said, motioning Fleur to a chair. aMay I pour you some tea, Miss Hamilton? I can see you are weary. You will have the duchess to contend with.a Fleur looked her inquiry.

aArmitage, her graceas personal maid, has confided to me that the duchess is not pleased with his graceas sending a governess without even consulting her,a the housekeeper said, pouring a cup of tea and handing it to Fleur.

aOh, dear,a Fleur said.

aBut you are not to worry,a Mrs. Laycock said. aIt is the duke who is master here, and his grace has seen fit to look to the future of his daughter. Now, Miss Hamilton, tell me something about yourself. You and I will get along well together, I believe.a PETER HOUGHTON, SORTING THROUGH THE DUKE of Ridgewayas post and setting aside invitations that he thought his master might wish to accept, knew that the duke was in a bad mood as soon as he entered the house and even before he came into the study. There was a certain tone to his voice, even when one could not hear the exact words, that betrayed his mood.

And his grace was limping slightly, the secretary saw, getting to his feet as the duke entered the room and sinking back into his chair again when the latter waved an impatient hand. Normally his grace went to great pains not to limp.

aAnything of importance?a he asked, nodding in the direction of the pile of mail.

aAn invitation to dine with his majesty,a Houghton said.

aPrinny? Make my excuses,a the duke said.

aIt is a royal summons to dinner and cards,a the secretary said with a cough.

aYes, I understand,a the duke said. aMake my excuses. Is there anything from my wife?a aNothing, your grace,a Houghton said, looking down at the pile.

aWe will be leaving for Willoughby,a his grace said curtly. aLet me see. I have promised to accompany the Denningtons to the opera tomorrow evening in order to escort their niece. There is nothing else that cannot be canceled, is there? We will leave the day after tomorrow.a aYes, your grace.a Peter Houghton smiled to himself as his employer strode from the room. It was two weeks to the day since the ladybird had been sent on her way by the stage. The duke had shown great fortitude in waiting that long before finding an excuse to go in pursuit.

The Duke of Ridgeway took the stairs two at a time, as he usually did, despite the fact that his leg and side were aching. He rubbed absently at his left eye and cheek. It was the damp weather. The old wounds always acted up when the weather turned for the worse.

Confound Sybil! She had consistently refused to accompany him to London since the time four years before when he had been forced to confront her and put an end to the wildest of her indiscretions. And yet it seemed that almost every time he had settled in London alone for a few months of peace, she had decided to organize a large country party, inviting every disreputable member of the ton, male and female, who could be persuaded to leave London for Dorsetshire.

Very rarely did she think it necessary to inform him of her plans. He was left to find outa"if he found out at alla"by accident. On one occasion two years before he had not known until he returned home to find that all the guests had been and left again except for one straggler. And that straggler had been kind enough to do the chambermaids a favor by vacating his own guest bedchamber in order to share that of the duchess.

The duke had sent that particular gentleman on his way within an hour of his return, and the man seemed to have taken to heart the advice not to show his face either at Willoughby or in London for at least the next ten years.

And he had given his duchess a tongue-lashing about propriety before the servants and those dependent upon them that had finally turned her pale and reduced her to tears. Sybil always looked more beautiful than usual when in tears. And she had accused him of hard-heartedness, neglect, tyrannya"all the old charges.

This time his grace had learned of Sybilas party from Sir Hector Chesterton at Whiteas. The man had seemed pleased by his invitation as he creaked inside his stays and wheezed for breath.

aThereas nothing much to do in town these days, old chap,a he had said, aexcept ogle the young things. And their mamas cling to them like leeches so that all one can do is ogle. Decent of Sybil to invite me.a aYes.a The duke had smiled arctically. aShe likes to surround herself with company.a And so he must return to Willoughby himself, many weeks before he had planned to do so. He pulled the bell rope in his dressing room and shrugged out of his coat while he waited for his valet to arrive. For the sake of his servants and for Pamelaas sake, he must return. It would not be fair to allow them all to be witnesses to the debaucheries of Sybil and her friends.

God! He pulled at his neckcloth and tossed it aside. He had loved her. Once upon a time, an eternity ago, he had loved her. Sweet, fragile, blond and beautiful Sybil. He had dreamed of her, ached for her all the time he was in Belgium waiting for the battle that had become the Battle of Waterloo. He had lived on the memory of her bright smiles, her sweet protestations of love, her shy acceptance of his marriage proposal, her warm maidenas kisses.

God! He pulled at the top button of his shirt and watched it sail across the room and tinkle against the china bowl on the washstand.

aGet someone to sew these infernal buttons on firmly,a he barked at his valet, who had the misfortune to come through the door at that moment.

But his valet had been with him from boyhood, and accompanied him to war and been his personal servant in Spain and in Belgium. He was made of stern stuff.

aThe leg and side are aching, are they, sir?a he said cheerfully. aI thought they would in this weather. Lie down and let me massage them.a aHow will that keep the buttons on my shirts, confound you?a the duke said.

aIt will, sir, take my word on it,a the valet said. aLie down, now.a aI want my riding clothes,a the duke said. aI am going for a gallop in the park.a aAfter I massage you,a his man said like a nurse talking to a child. aGoing back to Willoughby, are we, sir?a aHoughton has been spreading the glad tidings, has he?a his grace said, stretching out obediently on a couch in the dressing room and allowing his valet to remove his clothing and set to work with his strong and expert hands, which never failed to ease the aching. aWill you be glad to be home, Sidney?a aThat I will,a his man said firmly. aAnd you too, sir, if you will but admit it. Willoughby was always your favorite place in the whole world.a Yes. It had been. He had grown up with a conscious awareness that it would all be his one day. And his love for Willoughby was deeply ingrained in him. It had stayed with him during his years at school and university and during his years in the army. He had insisted on buying his commission in an infantry regiment despite the fact that he was the elder son and heir and despite the opposition of his father and just about everyone who knew him.

But Willoughby had remained in his blood. It was what he had fought fora"Willoughby, his home, England in miniature.

And yet now he hated to go back there. Because Sybil was there. Because life could never be what he had grown up dreaming that it would be.

And yet he must go. And something deep in him was perversely glad that he must. Willoughby in the late spring and summertimea"he closed his eyes and felt that deep surge of longing that he always felt for his home when he was away from it and allowed himself to think of it.

And there was Pamela. Sybil did not care a great deal for her despite her protective attitude, despite the fact that she hated to allow him near the child. She spent almost no time with their daughter. Pamela needed him. She needed more than a nurse.

She had more than a nurse. She had a governess.

Fleur.

He had put her from his mind after salving his conscience by finding her employment. And Houghton had assured him that she seemed qualified to be a governess. Houghton would have interviewed the girl thoroughly.

He did not want to think of her. He did not want to see her again. He did not want to be reminded. He had only ever been unfaithful to Sybil that once, though there was precious little to be unfaithful to.

Why had he had Fleur sent to Willoughby? He had other properties. He could have sent her to one of them in some servantas capacity.

Why Willoughby? To be in the same house as his wife. As himself. To teach his daughter.

A whore teaching Pamela.

aThatas enough, confound it,a he said, opening his eyes. aAre you trying to put me to sleep?a aThat I was, sir,a Sidney said, smiling cheerfully. aThere is less of your temper to contend with when you are asleep, sir.a aDamn your impudence,a the duke said, sitting up and rubbing at his eye again. aFetch my riding clothes.a FLEUR DID NOT MEET either her new charge or the duchess during the day of her arrival at Willoughby Hall. They had apparently gone visiting during the afternoon, taking the childas nurse with them.

aMrs. Clement was her graceas own childhood nurse,a Mrs. Laycock explained. aThey are very close. I am afraid she will resent you as much as the duchess will, Miss Hamilton. You must just keep in mind that it is his grace who pays your salary.a She spoke briskly, so that Fleur got the impression that she was not the only servant who must keep such a fact in mind.

His grace was, apparently, from home. It was likely that he was in London for the Season if the Mr. Houghton who had interviewed her was his personal secretary. Mrs. Laycock did not know when he was to be expected home.

aThough he will be here, no doubt, if he gets wind of the fact that her grace is planning another party,a that lady said, aand a grand ball.a Her tone was disapproving, though she said no more on the topic. She would take advantage of the absence of her grace, she said, to show Fleur something of the house abovestairs.

It was so magnificent and built on such a massive scale that Fleur could only trail along behind Mrs. Laycock, gazing in awe and saying almost nothing. All of the state and family and business apartments were on the piano nobile, the schoolroom and the nursery and the servantsa quarters in the smaller rooms above. Fleur had already seen her own room, small and square and light and airy, next to the schoolroom. It overlooked back lawns and trees. It looked rather like heaven in comparison with her room in London.

The tour of the house began in the great domed hall at the front of the house with its clerestory lantern high, just below the dome, flooding the room with light, and the dome itself painted with soaring angels. A gallery ran the circle below the lantern.

aAn orchestra sits up there on grand occasions,a the housekeeper explained. aWhen there is a ball, the doors to the long gallery and saloon are kept open to make one grand ballroom and promenade. You will see it if it rains the day of her graceas ball. It is to be outdoors by the lake, and we will be invited, Miss Hamilton, it being an outdoor affair. But it will be moved indoors if the weather is inclement, of course.a Fleur looked up and tried to imagine an orchestra sitting up there and music echoing around the circular pillared hall. She imagined crowds of people dressed in their evening finery, bright and laughing and dancing. And she smiled. Oh, she was going to be very happy. Despite what Mrs. Laycock had hinted about the duchess and Lady Pamelaas nurse, she was going to be happy. How could she not be? She had had a glimpse of hell and had survived it.

The long gallery ran the whole length of one of the wings, along the front of the house, one side of it consisting entirely of long windows and ancient Roman busts set in niches. The coved plasterwork frieze and ceiling gave an impression of great height and splendor. The long wall opposite the windows was hung with portraits in gilded frames.

aHis graceas family from generations back,a Mrs. Laycock said. aYou would need the master himself to explain it all to you, Miss Hamilton. There is nothing about Willoughby that he does not know.a Fleur identified a Holbein, a Van Dyck, a Reynolds. It must be wonderful, she thought, to have such a line of ancestors to picture in oneas mind. The Duke of Ridgeway, Mrs. Laycock told her, was the eighth duke of his line.

aWe are all waiting for an heir,a she said, her voice turning a little stiff. aBut so far there has been only Lady Pamela.a The offices and most of the guest rooms were behind the long gallery, Fleur was told, though she was not taken there.

The great saloon was on the central axis behind the hall, two stories high, its wall hangings of crimson Utrecht velvet, the heavy furniture arranged neatly around the perimeter of the room upholstered in the same material. The great pedimented doorcases and the cornice and mantel were gilded, the ceiling painted with a scene from some mythological battle that Mrs. Laycock could not identify. Large landscape paintings in heavy frames hung on the walls.

The dining room, the drawing room, the library, other rooms, and the private family apartments were in the other wing, the one that balanced the gallery wing.

Fleur was awed by it all. She had grown up in a grand house. Indeed her father had been its owner until his death in an inn fire with her mother when Fleur was eight years old. Both the house and his title had passed to his cousin, Matthewas father, and she had become a mere ward of the master, kindly though carelessly treated by him, unwanted and resented by his wife and daughter, ignored by Matthew until recent years.

But Heron House was not one of the great showpieces of England. Willoughby Hall evidently was. And despite her regret over the lost dream of a cozy manor and a small family group, she felt excited. She was to live in this magnificent mansion. She was to be a part of its busy life, responsible for the education of the duke and duchessas young daughter.

Good fortune was to be with her, after all, it seemed. Perhaps she was to have a small glimpse of heaven to balance her other recent experiences.

aI would take you walking in the park,a the housekeeper said, abut I can see that you are weary, Miss Hamilton. You must go upstairs and rest for a while. Perhaps her grace will wish to speak with you later and perhaps you will be expected to become acquainted with Lady Pamela.a Fleur retired gratefully to her room. She was feeling somewhat overwhelmed by it alla"by the events of the past two months, by the great good fortune of finding such a post when she had not been to that employment agency for a week, by the unexpected discovery that the post was no ordinary one at all. The journey had been long and exhausting.

And she had just that morning had one of her great fears put to resta"she was not with child.

Altogether, she thought, sitting by the window of her room, enjoying the peaceful scene outside and the gentle breeze that lifted the curtains and fanned her cheeks, she was far more well blessed than she could have expected to be just two months before.

She might have hanged. She might still hang. But she would not think of it. Today her new life had begun, and she was going to be happier than she had been at any other time in her lifea"since the age of eight.

She removed her dress, folded it neatly over the back of a chair, and lay down on top of the bedcovers in her chemise. How different from her room in London, she thought again, looking up to a silk-covered canopy over the bed, and looking about at neatness and cleanliness and hearing nothing but silence about her, except for the distant chirping of birds.

She closed her eyes to float on blissful drowsiness. And saw him againa"his face dark and angular and harsh, the scar a livid slash across it from the corner of his eye to his chin. Bending over her, his dark cold eyes looking directly into hers.

His hands on her, first between her thighs and at the most secret place and then beneath her. And that other part of him searing its red-hot and relentless path into her very depths. She could feel it tearing her apart.

aWhore,a he said to her. aDonat think ever again to escape that label. You are a whore now and will be for the rest of your life, no matter how far or fast you run.a aNo.a She shook her head from side to side on the bed, braced her feet more firmly on the floor, tried to pull back against his powerful hands so that he would not push so deeply into her. aNo.a aThis is not rape,a he said. aYou have sold yourself to me of your own free will. You are going to take my money.a aBecause I am starving,a she said, pleading with him. aBecause I have not eaten for two days. Because I must survive.a aWhore,a he said softly. aIt is because you enjoy it. You are enjoying it, arenat you?a aNo.a She squirmed to release herself from the strong hands that held her while he worked his pleasure in her. aNo.a No. No. There was nothing of herself left. No dignity. No privacy. No identity. Deprived of her clothes. Held wide by his knees and the powerful muscles of his thighs. Invaded to the very core of her being. No.

aNo. No. No!a She was sitting up on the bed, sweating, shaking. The familiar dream. The dream that was haunting her nightly. One would have thought that it would be Hobsonas dead face that would come to her as soon as she released her hold on consciousness, she thought, but it was not. It was that of the gentleman with the ugly scar who had hovered over her, taking the very last possession that had been hers to givea"or sell.

Fleur got up wearily from the bed and stood before the window to cool her face. Would she never forget him? The sight of him? The feel of him?

Had he really said those words to her? She could no longer remember. But his face and his body had said them even if he had not uttered them aloud.

There surely could not be an uglier, more evil man in the world, she thought. And yet, memory reminded her, he had bought her food and insisted that she eat it. And he had paid her three times what she had asked for outside the theater. He had not done anything to her that she had not freely consented to.

And he had brought her a cold cloth with which to cleanse away the blood and soothe herself.

She rested her face in her hands. She must forget. She must accept this gift of a new life that some benevolent power had granted her.

aTHAT IS PRETTY, DARLING,a the Duchess of Ridgeway said, bending down to kiss her daughter on the cheek and glancing smilingly at the painting the child held up for her inspection. aI will certainly see her, Nanny. It must be made clear to her that she is to be subordinate to you and that she must not force Pamela into doing anything she does not wish to do.a aShe is expecting to meet her charge this morning, my lady,a the nurse said. aI have explained to her that Lady Pamela likes to be quiet in the nursery during the mornings.a aMust I meet my new governess today, Mama?a the child asked petulantly. aDid Papa send her?a aHe did it to provoke me, did he not?a the duchess said to her nurse. aHe must have heard of my plans and thought to have his revenge by sending a prosing schoolmistress for my darling. But I have a right to company, donat I? Just as much as he does. He is enjoying the Season in London. Does he think I can live here all alone and be dull? Does he think I do not need company too to dispel this endless boredom?a She coughed dryly and reached for a handkerchief.

aI told you to wear a pelisse yesterday, lovey,a the nurse said. aIt is still just spring, even if the sun does shine. You will never get rid of your chill if you donat take care of yourself.a aDonat fuss, Nanny,a the duchess said crossly. aI have had this cough since winter, even though I always bundled up warmly then, as you told me to. Do you suppose he will come home if he hears?a aI daresay he will, lovey,a the nurse said. aHe usually does.a aHe does not like me to have any enjoyment or company,a her grace said. aI hate him, Nanny. I really do.a aHush,a the nurse said. aNot in front of Lady Pamela, lovey.a The duchess looked at the child and touched one soft dark ringlet. aSend her down to my sitting room, then,a she said, athis Miss Hamilton. Adam may have hired her, Nanny, but she must be made to see that she will be answerable to me. After all, Adama"a aHush, lovey,a the nurse said firmly.

The duchess kissed her childas cheek again and swept from the room, her morning robe flowing out behind her.

Her daughter watched her go wistfully. aDo you think she liked my picture, Nanny?a she asked.

aIam sure of it, lovey.a The nurse bent to hug her. aMama adores you and everything you do.a aAnd will Papa like it?a the child asked. aIs he coming home?a aWe will keep it carefully until he does,a Mrs. Clement said.

WHEN FLEUR WAS USHERED into the duchessas sitting room a short time later, it was empty. She stood quietly inside the door and waited, her hands folded before her. It was a small room, but quite exquisite. It was oval, with a painted dome for a ceiling and slender gilded Corinthian columns supporting the entablature. Decorative panels on an ivory-colored ground in pale reds, greens, pinks, and gold leaf made the walls delicate and feminine.

She did not have a long wait. The door at the other end of the room opened to admit a small and dainty lady in a delicate blue muslin dress, her silver-blond hair piled in soft curls and ringlets on her head and about her face. The duchess was extremely beautiful and looked younger than her own twenty-three years, Fleur thought.

aMiss Hamilton?a the duchess asked.

Fleur curtsied. aYour grace.a She found herself being openly surveyed from head to foot by the duchessas light blue eyes.

aMy husband has sent you here as governess to my daughter?a The voice was sweet and breathless.

Fleur inclined her head.

aDo you realize that at the age of five she is not yet in need of teaching?a her grace asked.

aBut there is a great deal even so young a child can learn without actually sitting over a book all day long, your grace,a Fleur said.

The duchessas chin came up. aDo you presume to disagree with me?a she asked, both her voice and her face pleasant and somewhat at variance with her words.

Fleur was silent.

aMy husband sent you,a the other said. aWhat was your relationship with him, pray?a Fleur flushed. aI have not met his grace,a she said. aI was interviewed at an employment agency by Mr. Houghton.a The duchess looked her up and down once more. aAs you will have gathered,a she said, aI am in disagreement with my husband on my daughteras need of tuition. She is a young and delicate child who needs only her motheras love and her nurseas care. You will not tax her brain with useless knowledge, Miss Hamilton, and you will take your orders from Mrs. Clement, Lady Pamelaas nurse. You will consider yourself one of the servants of this house and keep to your own room or the servantsa hall when your presence is not needed in the schoolroom. I do not expect to see you on this floor of the house unless expressly summoned by me. Do you understand me?a All was spoken in a light, friendly voice while large blue eyes regarded her from a fragile, beautiful face. An adoring mother afraid of releasing her child from babyhood, Fleur thought with some sympathy despite the imperious nature of the words themselves.

aYes, your grace,a she said.

aYou may leave now and spend half an hour with my daughter under the supervision of Mrs. Clement,a her grace said.

But as Fleur turned to leave, her grace spoke again.

aMiss Hamilton,a she said, aI approve of the way you are clothed this morning and of the way you have dressed your hair. I trust that your manner of dress will always meet with my approval.a Fleur inclined her head again and left the room. And since she was dressed in a severe gray cotton dress, one of her new purchases, with a small white lace collar, and had her hair combed entirely back from her face and confined in a heavy bun at her neck, she thought she understood the duchess perfectly.