The Hidden Heart. Candace Camp

before he could move to do so, this wretched woman had come into the room. She, of course, would put the worst possible interpretation on his actions. Richard could not think when he had met anyone as irritating.

      From the first moment that Richard had seen her, when she had come striding down the hall, shouting his name imperiously, as if he were a recalcitrant servant, he had disliked her intensely. She was rude and abrupt, and she looked at him with a cool contempt, even dislike, that he was unaccustomed to, especially in a woman. He had never been one to stand on ceremony, to demand the respect that was due his station. He knew that he was an easygoing sort. His mother had often complained of his laxness with the servants and his general lack of the self-importance that was proper in a duke. But with Jessica Maitland, he found himself wanting to remind her of his rank, to wipe the look of contempt from her face.

      “What the devil are you doing here?” he growled. “Every time I turn around, there you are, sticking your nose into my study.”

      “Hardly that, since this is but the third time I’ve seen you. To answer your question, I could not sleep and was on my way to the library when I saw you in here, contemplating your guns.”

      Jessica came up to his desk and looked down at the pistols, keeping her face cool and her voice light. “Beautiful workmanship.”

      “Yes. They were a gift from my father.”

      “Ah. I am sure he would be pleased to know what you intend to do with them.”

      “I was intending to clean them,” Richard responded. “Not that it is any of your business.”

      “It is my business, I’m afraid. The fact that you are Gabriela’s guardian makes it so. Otherwise, I frankly would not care whether you put a period to your existence. Some people simply do not have the courage to face life. That is the way they are made; I suppose there is little they can do about it.”

      Anger shot through Richard with such force that he jumped up, shoving his chair back. “How dare you imply that I am a coward!”

      The woman was an absolute harpy—poison tongued and hard as nails. The fact that she was beautiful, with skin as white as cream and that wild tumble of hot red curls falling loose around her shoulders, somehow made her sharp nature even worse, he thought. Seeing her there, her curves softly encased in a dark blue dressing gown that turned her eyes a deep, pure blue, her hair loose and wild, she looked the sort of woman who made a man think of only taking her to bed—and then she opened her mouth, and all he wanted to do was shake her.

      It increased his bad temper to realize that she made him think of sex. He had not wanted another woman since Caroline’s death—not in a specific way. It was both annoying and ironic that this acidic woman should cause a stirring of his loins.

      Jessica, watching the anger that lit up the man’s face, felt pleased with her plan of attack. Pleading and reasoning would not deter him, she had thought, knowing that his loving servants and no doubt his family and friends had done plenty of that. Angering him, however, worked like a charm—jolting him right out of his melancholy.

      She shrugged. “Well, it is scarcely the act of a brave man—to take the easy way out, leaving all his loved ones to mourn him.”

      “The easy way? You know nothing about it! You don’t know me or what my life has been like.”

      She raised her eyebrows. “Yes, I am certain it must have been a burden to you—being handsome and wealthy and possessing one of the highest titles in the land. I can see why you should go spinning into despair.”

      His dark eyes flared with a red light, and Richard had to curl his hands into fists to keep from grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You know nothing about me.”

      “Perhaps I do not. But I do know about my life. I know that until I was eighteen, I lived a happy and privileged existence. I came from a good family. I had a loving father. I had that coming-out that you spoke of for Gabriela. I was even engaged to a dashing young lieutenant. Then suddenly that life was cut off when my father was cashiered out of the army. Perhaps you don’t recall the scandal, as we did not move in the exalted circles of a duke. My father was Major Thomas Maitland, and he was an upstanding and honorable soldier all his life. Then he was thrown out, stripped of his title, his honor, his very livelihood. We were no longer received by anyone. My fiancé broke off our engagement. His family, you see, could not ally itself to one so tainted by scandal. My father, the best of men, changed before my eyes. He took to drinking and bad company. He was killed three months later in a fight in a common tavern, and, as my mother had died, I was left alone—without money, without prospects, without even my good name anymore. I lost everything. I became a governess, and as you have pointed out, I am not highly successful at bending my knee to others, so as a consequence, I was close to starvation. Only the General’s kindness saved me.”

      “Good Lord. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

      “And I know Gabriela’s life,” Jessica went on. “She has seen a great deal more sorrow than anyone her age should have to see. She was orphaned when she was but eight, and now her only real relative, the man whom she loved as a grandfather, has been taken from her. She has been turned over to a stranger, but even he does not want her and cannot wait to give her away to some other stranger, because she is too much trouble.”

      “Damnation!” Cleybourne roared, and his face, which had softened with sympathy during Jessica’s recital of the events of her life, turned hard and angry once again. “That is not the case at all! I am not rejecting the girl. It is not because she is too much trouble.”

      “Oh, no, that’s right. I forgot. It is because she would put a crimp in your plans to do away with yourself. And no one must be allowed to do that, must they?”

      “You overstep yourself, Miss Maitland.”

      “Do I? I am so sorry. I know that you are used to dealing with servants, loving servants, who would gladly do anything for you, who worry themselves silly about you—until they almost had me convinced that you must be a better man than I thought for them to care so much for you. Well, I am not your servant. General Streathern hired me, and when he died, he entrusted me with Gabriela’s welfare. However little you may want responsibility for her, I accept it gladly, and I don’t intend to let you damage her life still further by killing yourself while she is in your house. If you haven’t the courage to accept life and its troubles, if you care so little for your servants that you will let them stumble upon your bleeding and lifeless body some morning, that is all right with me. But pray do not do so until Gabriela is gone.”

      “Enough!” Cleybourne’s face was white and stark, his eyes glittering with fury.

      There were many who would have quailed at the sight of his rage, but Jessica stood calmly, facing him, her hands linked in front of her. He was a little frightening, but she had provoked him deliberately, seeking such a reaction. She was not about to back away from it now.

      “You are a poisonous, razor-tongued witch, and I want you out of my study this minute,” Cleybourne went on, his voice low and furious. “Indeed, Miss Maitland, were it not for the impropriety of a girl of Miss Carstairs’ age residing here without a governess, I would turn you out of the house immediately.”

      “No doubt you would, but as I said, my charge to take care of Gabriela came directly from the General, and I will not shirk that duty, no matter how little you like it.”

      “Leave my study now. And pray let me see as little of you as possible in the time that you and Miss Carstairs are here.”

      “My pleasure, Your Grace.” Jessica inclined her head slightly, then turned and swept out of the room, head high, back straight. Behind her, she heard the crash of something heavy on the Duke’s desk, followed by a series of curses, cut off by the slamming of his door.

      There would be no further thoughts of killing himself tonight, Jessica knew. Cleybourne would be far too busy thinking of delightful ways to do her in. Smiling to herself, she started back toward her room, all thoughts of reading