Strathmere's Bride. Jacqueline Navin
a word, Chloe placed her hand on Rebeccah’s forehead and gave a gentle push. The little girl flopped backward, landing among the heap of dresses behind her, her legs flailing in the air.
Chloe turned to Sarah, who smiled. “What do you think of your uncle, Sarah?” The child merely gazed back. Chloe continued, unperturbed by Sarah’s silence. “Ah, I agree. Much too serious. It is rather sad, I think, to mope about in such a manner all the day.” As if to herself, she muttered, “Moderation. Humph.” With a quick sigh, she reached out a hand and pulled the struggling Rebeccah to her feet. “Enough, Queen Rebeccah. You can think up orders for the new duke another time. Let—”
Chloe stopped, stunned into silence, for she looked up just then to find a tall male figure standing inside the doorway of the nursery.
Instantly, she was aware of the confusion around her, of the children’s mussed appearance, of her own rumpled dress and hair all astraggle. She sat there, staring at him, the picture of decorum in stark contrast to her dishabille. He was, as was his custom, dressed in dark trousers that had been so crisply pressed the seam was as fine and straight as a saber’s edge. His expertly tied cravat lay in soft folds against a shirt as white and pristine as a new sheet of bleached parchment. Steady eyes glittered at her without a hint of reaction to anything he might have heard.
He glanced around the room. She saw his nostrils flare, a sign of annoyance, she was certain. The toys had not yet been put away, and the watercolors were still out, curdling in their ceramic trays with caked brushes scattered over the children’s masterpieces.
Chloe came to her feet. “Good morning, your grace.”
Rebeccah sidled to Chloe’s side, all show of bravery gone. Chloe’s hand came to rest on the child’s shoulder, hugging her against her hip protectively.
The duke looked simply…contemptuous. Clasping his hands behind his back, he walked a tight circle about the nursery, like a general inspecting barracks. He paused over the colors bleeding into one another on the children’s paintings, and moved on.
He sniffed. “The nursery is untidy, Miss Pesserat.”
“We are playing,” Chloe answered. “See? Dressing fancy.” She gave him a small, ironic smile. “A kind of history lesson, n’est-ce pas?”
“Unacceptable,” he shot back, and began to walk about again. “This room is a disgrace. The children must be taught to pick up after themselves. The servants are not to be used as an excuse for bad habits.”
Chloe almost groaned when he picked up a smashed wooden figure. Rebeccah had demolished the thing during one of her tantrums, then thrown it aside. Chloe, intent on gaining control of the child, had forgotten to discard the ruined toy.
Without thinking, she stepped forward and took the piece from him. His long, sun-browned fingers released it, brushing hers for an instant. She was surprised how warm they were, for this was a cold man.
She glanced at him to find a satirical smile twisting his handsome mouth. “I quite agree. We do our cleaning before lunch. Would you like to stay and supervise?”
Jareth gave her a withering stare. “I have other duties.” He spoke in a calculated tone meant to convey an order. “I have no doubts that the room will be put to rights, just as I instructed. I trust that from our last conversation we understand each other very well.”
The arrogance of his words brought instant reaction. “There was no understanding, your grace. At least I was not brought to any further understanding of you. You may have had some enlightenment from my explanations of my philosophies, but I…” She tapped her fingertip against her bottom lip. It was an insolent gesture and she knew it. “No, I cannot say I understand anything about you.”
His eyelids lowered in a lazy, dangerous look. “You are very clever, Miss Pesserat, and right to remind me of it. I was misled—falsely so, I admit— by your irresponsible behavior. It made me think you simple, but you are far from that.”
He dare… “I am so glad you admit being wrong.”
He took a step closer. “And you forget yourself. Allow me to remind you that you are the children’s nurse, or governess if you will, in my employ. And whether or not you—”
He stopped, for a faint keening sounded in low and began to build. Chloe looked down to find Rebeccah whimpering and frantically pulling on Chloe’s skirt. The child’s distress instantly brought Chloe out of her single-minded rage.
Snapping her head up to face Jareth again, she said, “We are upsetting the children. May I suggest that you scold me later if you are still so inclined, when they are not present?”
His eyes flickered from the child to Chloe, his gaze dark and intense and so very, very hard. She sensed he was genuinely appalled at Rebeccah’s distress.
“I shall take you up on that invitation,” he drawled, “for this is not settled to my satisfaction. The conditions in the nursery—” he took in a sweeping glance as if to illustrate his point “—are unsatisfactory.”
The pressure of Rebeccah against her thigh, the still, silent form of Sarah as she watched her uncle with mistrust in her eyes prompted Chloe into capitulation. “You have my pride at a disadvantage. I shall make an effort to please you in this manner, if only for the children’s sake.”
Jareth didn’t move for a moment. Chloe thought perhaps he was shocked she had behaved so humbly. Then he did something very, very odd. His expression began to alter. A stricken look replaced the cold arrogance of just moments ago.
He squinted at her, blinked and looked horrified, though she could not fathom why. Without another word, he made for the door, stopping halfway because his foot hit Sarah’s bear, which had fallen onto the floor at some point during their altercation. He stooped, retrieved it and rose, standing there for the space of a few seconds, just staring down at it. Then he turned slowly and held it out to Sarah. She regarded him solemnly for so long, Chloe feared she was going to refuse to take it.
Finally, she reached for the toy, and the duke smiled ever so slightly, stretching out long, elegant fingers to brush the slightest of caresses along her chubby jawline.
He dropped his hand, whirled to confront Chloe once again and said, “Please forgive my intrusion. It was unforgivable…I didn’t mean to upset the children.”
He left, clicking the door shut behind him with care.
Rebeccah was in a mood after that. Chloe did her best to soothe her, knowing she was frightened by her uncle’s visit, but her already challenged patience was stretched to its limit. Sarah, on the other hand, seemed strangely content. She kept staring at her bear as if to glean some insight from the flat, dark button eye.
“Really, Strathmere, that is the third time I’ve spoken to you and you have neglected to answer,” the duchess scolded. “And you look positively dreadful. You aren’t coming down with the ague, are you?”
Jareth turned to his mother, attempting to compose his face in placid lines. “Yes. I am a bit out of sorts.” His voice drifted into a soft, reflective tone. “Not quite myself…”
“See to it that you are not less than your best this afternoon. I have invited the Rathfords to tea. I do so enjoy Lady Rathford. Such an impeccably comported person. Lord Rathford can be crude, it is true, but no more so than is typical of the country gentleman.” A slight, nearly imperceptible pause. “Of course, Helena is absolutely charming.”
There was an awkward silence during which Jareth realized he was expected to respond. “She is exemplary,” he said.
“Yes,” his mother nearly crooned with satisfaction. Settling back in her chair, she fiddled with the fan on her lap.
Jareth