A Preacher's daughter for the smitten Duke (Regency Romance) (Regency Tales Book 6) Read online

  “We provide services to a local landowner, Your Grace, who gives us food and lodging in exchange for our labour on his land.” Again, pride and humiliation vied for a place in the preacher’s tone.

  “I am relieved to hear that you are not sleeping here,” Percy said. “Although I am inclined to overlook your trespassing on my land without proper authorization, I would not stand for using it as a place to live. There are young women present whose lives and reputations must be safeguarded at all costs. I have healthy young men in my employ, for whose actions I will accept no responsibility when they are not at work for me.”

  The older man nodded in understanding. “I take full responsibility for my daughters’ safety, Your Grace.” His tone was haughty now, and Percy found himself amused by it. “And thank you for your graciousness in allowing us to keep our tent here.”

  “I have no interest in prohibiting the free expression of one’s faith, Mr Williams,” Percy said. “Since faith is a personal matter, it is up to each of us to decide how we will worship. Had you and your family been Gypsies, however, that would have been another matter.”

  Both men laughed in amusement at the idea, and walked together back to the others, who waited in various states of anxiety. Percy felt most acutely for Amy, who did not once looked him in the eye again, but whose distress he sensed most keenly. He was glad, therefore, that her father would be able to give them good news. They would not need to leave until they chose to do so. As he left the Williams, he felt a sense of relief. He needed time away to analyse the disturbing feelings Amy Williams had evoked.

  THREE

  It had been three days since the duke’s visit to their tent, and Amy had finally begun to relax. Perhaps they could trust him, after all. He had not returned, nor sent anyone to hustle them off his land. She gave herself a moment to daydream, recalling his dark good looks and deep blue eyes. His smile had been infectious, and when she had managed to steal a close look at him, while his attention had been on her father, she wondered how many women had already fallen victim to his charms. His voice was melodious, deep and pure, and it had sent an odd thrill through her very core, every time he spoke. She had never experienced such a reaction to any man before, and she knew that it was quite a hopeless thing for her to be concerned with someone of his station.

  Besides, she had seen the way Mary Anne had looked at him. How her eyes had lit up at the sight of him striding towards them that first time. She knew her sister well, and she supposed that should the duke ever do something so unprecedented as to approach her father, it would be to ask to pay his respects to her older sister. And anyway, he had most likely seen that she was too young for his tastes. She found the thought depressing, and shook herself to dislodge it, before she went back to kneading dough for the bread she was helping to make for market on Saturday. There was still much to do before services later in the evening.

  Once the bread was put to bake, she went up to clean the living quarters, including the room where they washed themselves. Mary Anne always managed to be elsewhere when it was time to clean, but Amy kept her grumbling to herself. She had a roof over her head that did not also house horses, and a clean bed to sleep in, even if she did have to share it with her sister who slept badly every night. She finished her chores, and then set out for the tent, where she and her family shared their midday meal. Her father insisted on it, saying they needed the time to cement their relationship as a family. It was really the only time they had together, not in the company of others.

  The sound of horses’ hooves disturbed the quiet midday air. It was a sultry day, and her father and brothers were washing down by the stream. The horses drew closer, and the girls, who were laying the makeshift table for lunch, turned to see who was approaching. A number of people, both male and female, rode close to the tent, and a few stopped. Among them was the duke, whom Amy thought looked pained to be there. One man was speaking, loudly enough that anyone could hear him. Amy found his words most insulting.

  “Ah, Ashton, they’re not Gypsies, after all. You were right! Why did you not tell us they were vagrants?”

  The duke’s face flushed, and he said something in reply, too low for any of the family to hear. There was general laughter when the first man replied to the duke’s comment, and another of his guests said, “Surely you jest! There isn’t a habit among them! They are common beggars!” He directed his gaze down to the stream where the men were working. “No self-respecting vagabond friar would be caught dead without the habiliments of his trade, nor any Sister of Mercy find herself alone in the company of men without her Mother Superior in attendance.” At that, he brought his attention back to the two young women standing by the tent.

  A third speaker asked the inevitable question. “Do these people have your permission to plant their begging tent upon your land, Percy? And will you exact a tax in payment for their tenancy?”

  Before the duke could respond, the first speaker, that most odious of men, chimed in gleefully. “If begging is their trade, I doubt you’ll make much off them, Percy!”

  More general laughter followed, after which, thankfully, the group rode off. Amy swallowed the tears of humiliation that rose to her eyes. They had often borne the brunt of jeers and insults, but never had it been more intensely personal than just then, with the man who had brought them there sitting high on his horse listening to his guests make fun of them. Amy turned away as her father approached, asking what the group had wanted. She let Mary Anne explain while she gathered her composure about her like a cloak. Mary Anne was angry; that was how she handled the slings of their misfortunes. Amy wanted to be more like her sister in this one regard.

  As she had known he would, her father came over to rest his hand upon her shoulder. “Are you all right, my dear?” he asked gently, squeezing her shoulder.

  “I could be better, Papa,” she admitted. Then she squared her shoulders. “Let’s have lunch. There is much to do before services this eve.”

  She saw the pride that shone in her father’s eyes in that moment, and was glad that she had learned how to put a brave face on her pain. Later, as she helped to lay the table for supper, she was grateful that she knew how to show a pleasant countenance to the world. She liked the farmer’s wife, who treated her as the daughter she never had, so helping around the house was not as bad as it might otherwise have been. The woman made her feel genuinely at ease, so keeping that face was easier to maintain. In general, Amy preferred to look on the bright side of things. It helped to keep depression at bay.

  Next morning, it being Mary Anne’s turn to help with the kitchen chores, Amy set off for the tent, where she had taken to going when in need of a quiet place to think, away from prying eyes. She knew her sister would join her when her morning chores were complete. Amy had helped to milk the cows and collect the eggs for the morning meal, while the boys had fed the pigs and tended the horses. After breakfast, her father had announced that he would be spending the morning at the tent, and she knew he would be there to protect her, should anyone approach.

  She wandered aimlessly down by the stream, eventually sitting on the rocks one of her brothers had stacked to make a seat. She took in the pleasant summer sky and swatted the flies that buzzed busily about her face and hair. She watched the butterflies sipping from the moving water, their light wings helping to keep them from tipping into the water themselves. She heard Mary Anne approach and went to meet her sister.

  “Shall we do the vegetable patch after lunch?” she inquired as she approached.

  “It would definitely give us more free time tomorrow,” Mary Anne said. “I grow tired of farming. I can already tell a farmer’s wife is not what I wish to be.”

  “I know what you want to be,” Amy said, chuckling. “Mistress of the Devon Hall.” She spread her arms wide and twirled. “And you are pretty enough and determined enough to get what you want, too.”

  Mary Anne laughed. “I don’t suppose the handsome Duke of Ashton is in need of a wife.” S
he spun away from Amy and sank onto the turf by the water’s edge. “I could ignore the boorish nature of the friends he chooses to keep, as long as he chooses to keep me, as well.”

  They laughed some more at her joke, lost in merriment, and neither heard the subject of their conversation walk his horse over to where they lay, their eyes closed against the brightness of the sun. His horse’s whinny gave him away though, and both girls scrambled to stand up, hastily brushing loose bits of grass off their shabby dresses.

  “Your Grace,” Mary Anne greeted with a curtsy. Amy followed suit. Happy to defer to her sister in this instance. She would not have known what to say had he come upon her alone by the stream. “You startled us, Your Grace.” Mary Anne bestowed a coquettish smile upon the duke, but he did not return it. “Papa is in the tent, if you wish to speak to him,” she added, when it became clear that this was not a social call.

  “Ladies,” he began, his voice strained, “it is you that I have come to speak with. I must apologise for the manners of my guests yesterday. I know their comments must have made you both very uncomfortable and cross. Please pardon them on my behalf. I can assure you that not all nobles share their opinions. I will see to it that no one else disturbs you. Good day to you.”

  He swung his horse around and galloped off, leaving the girls astonished.

  “What a true gentleman he is!” Mary Anne exclaimed. “I would never have imagined that a member of the upper class would stoop to asking pardon for his peers’ behaviour. How very well-bred of him!”

  “It is indeed a shock,” Amy agreed quietly, trying to ignore the curl of pleasure that his apology had unfurled in her belly. It was another in a growing list of things that she admired about the man. She bit her lower lip. She was beginning to suspect that her feelings for the duke were complicated. She shook her head in self mockery – she knew very well she was unlikely to attract his affections. But she had seen the way he looked at her as he apologised. Although she could not say how she knew, she was sure that his words were meant more for her than for her sister.

  The silence that greeted her words made her turn to look at Mary Anne, who was staring at her with a small frown between her brows.

  “Whatever’s the matter?” Amy asked her. “Have I got dirt on my face or something?”

  “Don’t you also have hope for a successful marriage, little sister?’ Mary Anne inquired, in what seemed to Amy a rather random change of subject.

  “I have never really thought of it,” she answered, though she knew that it had been on the periphery of her mind since their first meeting with the duke. “I am still trying to decide what I wish to do with my life. I don’t know if a wife is what I wish to be.”

  “Not even if the husband you would acquire would be a handsome and wealthy young gentleman such as Percival Lockhart, Duke of Ashton?”

  Amy blushed bright red. She hesitated but a moment before replying, “Not even then.”

  The next instant, she was being dragged back to the tent where their father was just getting up from the table and rubbing his eyes.

  “Papa,” Mary Anne said, pulling Amy to stand beside her, “I think your younger daughter has developed an unaccustomed interest in a man.”

  Amy gasped in shock at the statement, and could not keep her cheeks from blanching.

  “What?”

  The question came from both father and accused daughter at the same time.

  “Amy likes the duke, Papa,” her perfidious older sister repeated. “I think we shall need to watch her closely.

  Still unable to fathom the depth of the betrayal that she was feeling, Amy watched as her father’s cheeks mottled with angry colour. She watched as he listened to Mary Anne tell him of the duke’s visit and apology, and of their subsequent conversation and her reaction. She braced herself for a stern reprimand, though she could not understand how she had gotten into such trouble over a man whom her sister had only an hour ago said she would be happy to marry, despite his friends’ boorishness.

  “That is not a man for you to set your cap at, Amy,” he cautioned her sharply. “He is far above your station. Should he return here or try to speak to you, you will fetch me at once. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Papa,” she replied quietly. “I understand. That said, he spoke to both of us. And none of it was inappropriate.” She refused to look at her sister or her father as she answered, and walked away until the luncheon hour approached. Then she helped to lay the table, as was expected of her, but remained silent throughout the midday meal, prompting Jacob to ask what was wrong.

  “Nothing is wrong,” she said. “Can a person not be silent sometimes without something being wrong?”

  “There is no need to snap at your brother, Amy,” her father reprimanded her sternly. “It is not he with whom you are annoyed.”

  Amy flushed crimson, and pushed her plate away. “Yes, Papa. I’m sorry, Jacob. Please excuse me. I have had enough.”

  Mr Williams watched his daughter walk away from the table, her meal mostly untouched. The irony of her parting words was not lost on him, and he felt as though his control of events was unravelling. He blamed it on the appearance of that devil-in-disguise, and he was determined to protect his daughter from that young man’s charms. He would find a way to handle her anger. He had to, if he was to protect her.

  FOUR

  “I have never seen our Amy so quiet,” Jacob said, as he watched his sister the next morning. She sat between her father and Mary Anne, but spoke to neither of them. Nor did she lift her eyes from the bowl of porridge set before her. Not even Mrs Smith, whom she was quite fond of, could coax an extra word out of her.

  Jacob loved his sister more than any other member of his family, and he suspected that Mary Anne had something to do with how Amy was behaving. It didn’t help that their father kept casting disapproving glances in her direction. Whatever had happened, it had something to do with the Duke of Ashton. He had overheard his father asking the Smith’s about the man, and though they did not have anything bad to say about him, Jacob knew his father well enough to know that his innate mistrust of the nobles and concern for his daughters’ reputations would make him impossible to deal with if he thought that the man had any interest in either of them, especially in Amy.

  “Maybe we should go and have a look for ourselves. See what’s happening at Devon Hall. He did it to us. The least we can do is return the favour.”

  Matthew laughed. Although he was determined to follow in his father’s footsteps, Matthew could be adventurous, and he loved his sisters above all else. He would do anything he could to protect them, so Jacob knew that his suggestion would meet with his brother’s approval. They knew it would take some time to get to the house and back by lunch, so they set out soon after breakfast, having made sure that all of their tasks were completed before they left the farm. When they finally found their destination, and could approach closely to make their observations without being noticed themselves, both men stopped to rest and watch in awe.

  There seemed to be a great number of people gathered in a rather grand courtyard. Carriages were arriving and departing as they stood there, and fashionably dressed men and women went in and out of the mansion. It was built like a huge castle, with stone walls of russet and buttery cream, and flags flying from the turrets. The family crest was artfully sculpted into the fresco detail above the grand front entry, and all around, beautifully maintained gardens added to the splendour of the dwelling.

  “It must be a splendid sight from closer up,” Jacob said. “And if the outside is so wonderful to behold, what must it be within?”

  “Look, over there,” Matthew interrupted his musing, handing his brother the spyglass they had borrowed from their father’s trunk. “Isn’t that the duke himself coming out with a lady on his arm?”

  “My word, so it is!” exclaimed Jacob, training the glass where his brother pointed. “And a very pretty lady, too, if I may say so.” He smiled widely. “Well, that settles
it, doesn’t it? Father will be pleased to know that the duke has a lady friend. I’m sure Amy won’t care, but I’ll bet you sixpence to a pound that our Mary Anne will!”

  “That would be money ill spent, assuming I had any to waste so,” Matthew quipped. “Besides which, betting is a sin which I’ll not have on my conscience. Not even my sisters, whom I dearly love, are worth it.”

  Jacob handed him back the spyglass, unwilling to engage in debate about issues he little trusted and even less understood. “Did you see the magnificent pair of horses they were getting ready to mount?” he asked instead. “I could have told you, from the horse he rode the other day, that he is a man discerning of good horseflesh.” He gazed off in the distance, not seeing anything, and then he added, “I wonder what it must be like to be the master of his stables.”

  “I myself could happily tend his gardens while pondering my sermons,” Matthew said.

  “Let us away,” Jacob said at last, “before we miss luncheon. Will you tell Father what we have seen today? He will take it better coming from you.”

  Matthew looked sharply at his brother. “I think you do not do our father justice by continuing to suppose he has favourites among us,” he said quietly. “Perhaps if you were less inclined to be surly with him, he might be more patient with you.”

  Jacob did not reply, and Matthew shook his head and followed his brother silently back to their tent. The girls had already laid the table and were obviously wondering where they had been.

  “Hurry and wash up, lads,” Mary Anne said, and went to fetch her father.

  After their father said grace, Mary Anne served their plates, as Amy still seemed unwilling to do more than sit and watch, and speak only when spoken to. She refused Mary Anne’s help with her own lunch, however, saying quietly,

  “I will serve myself, thank you.” She made no eye contact with her sister, and everyone at the table noticed it, but no one spoke. It was unusual for Amy to be angry for so long, and no one knew how to deal with it, so they left her alone.