When a Duke Loves a Governess

by Olivia Drake

  “I’d be happy to lend a hand,” he said promptly. “When would be convenient?”

  She thought for a moment. “Perhaps later this afternoon after Sophy’s nap.”

  “Don’t need help,” Sophy protested, kicking a pebble with the toe of her shoe.

  “Proper grammar, please,” Miss James chided. “And mind, it is always best to seek the advice of experts in order to avoid making mistakes. Now please thank your papa and Jiggs for their kindness.”

  After Sophy reluctantly did so, Guy watched as the governess ushered the grumbling girl out of the conservatory. He wondered if he’d made any progress at all in winning over his daughter. Trust took time to build, he reminded himself. It would never have occurred to him to show Sophy the birds without Miss James suggesting it. He was too used to the aristocracy’s tradition of keeping children out of sight in the nursery.

  No, the deeper truth was, he felt unnerved by his own daughter. His ineptness with Sophy had frustrated him these past few weeks. It helped now to think of her as a feral kitten, hissing and spitting because she believed herself to be unwanted by her own father. Learning the source of the girl’s anger was one more debt he owed to Miss James.

  Guy’s chest expanded in a deep breath. Gratitude alone couldn’t explain the warmth inside him. It was Miss James herself who’d twisted him into knots with those big blue eyes, soft kissable lips, and irresistible feminine charm. He knew full well that such an infatuation was wrong. She would resign his employ should he be so unwise as to attempt a flirtation. He couldn’t risk losing the one person who had a knack for handling Sophy. More important, he had too much respect for Miss James to dishonor her.

  What made her so much more effective than the other half dozen governesses? It wasn’t just youth and vitality, it was her heart and her fire. Despite having an appearance of delicate porcelain, she had a backbone of steel. She’d stood up to him and fought for Sophy. Her vibrant spirit reminded Guy of his grandmother, who’d never hesitated to get down on her hands and knees to play with him, or to defend him to his grandfather.

  There was also that tantalizing whiff of mystery about Miss James. He sensed there was more to her than met the eye. Much, much more.

  Chapter 7

  That afternoon, guided by Lolly’s directions, Tessa walked down a carpeted corridor lined by bedchambers. She stopped in front of a closed door, hesitated, and then knocked. There was no reason to falter. She needed advice and didn’t know who else to ask.

  Avis Knightley swung open the gilt-trimmed panel. A spinster’s cap topped her chestnut curls and she appeared somewhat frazzled, though her green eyes widened with pleasure. “Tessa, what a pleasant surprise.”

  Tessa returned her smile. “Sophy is napping and I was hoping you might have a free moment.”

  Avis glanced over her shoulder. “Lady Victor just took a draught of laudanum,” she whispered. “I’ll need to sit with her until she falls asleep.”

  “Shall I return in a few minutes?”

  Just then, a querulous voice came from inside the chamber. “Who’s there?”

  “Miss James, my lady.”

  “The governess? Well, bring her here at once.”

  With a worried look, Avis ushered Tessa inside, murmuring, “She’s especially petulant today, I’m sorry to say.”

  Tessa gave a nod of understanding. They passed through an elegant sitting room and into a bedchamber with dainty furniture and rose-pink hangings. The closed draperies dimmed the room, while a blazing fire on the grate made the air stuffy.

  Lying beneath the covers on the four-poster bed, Lady Victor pushed up on one elbow and blinked anxiously. “Why are you here? Is it my son? Has something happened to Edgar?”

  Tessa hastened to the bed and bobbed a curtsy. “Nay, milady. I-I merely wished to inquire how you are faring.”

  “Oh…” Her face settling into long-suffering lines, Lady Victor sank back down on the pillow and plucked at the bedclothes. “How should I be faring with Eddie still gone at Newmarket? Mingling with gamblers and drunkards and other ne’er-do-wells.”

  “Now, I’m certain Mr. Edgar is just fine,” Avis said. She sat down in a chair beside the bed and patted the woman’s hand. “Pray recall you had a note from him yesterday saying he’ll be returning soon.”

  “Only if he can elude the danger of highwaymen on the journey home.” Shuddering, Lady Victor directed a heavy-lidded look at Tessa. “They killed my husband, you know, those highwaymen. He was the first victim of the Carlin Curse.”

  A chill tiptoed down Tessa’s spine. Though not a superstitious person, she felt a deep-seated unease at the conviction in Lady Victor’s voice. The woman truly believed there was a curse on the family. In her defense, there had been a number of deaths over the past few years. Maybe it was only natural that she should worry.

  Lady Victor closed her eyes and stirred restlessly on the bed. “The curse should have claimed Guy, too,” she muttered. “He shouldn’t have come home. Had he not returned, my dearest Eddie would have been duke…”

  As the woman drifted into slumber, the dark fog of her words lingered. Guy must be Carlin’s first name, Tessa realized. She’d always heard that aristocrats valued position above all else, yet it was hard to believe that Lady Victor regretted her nephew’s return from his journey. Would she really rather he had died in order to benefit her son?

  The notion repulsed Tessa. Her mind summoned an image of the duke’s intense eyes, his strength and vigor, his magnetic presence. Despite the harsh masculine angles of his face, he had a smile that had the power to wreak havoc on her insides. His awkward attempts to befriend his daughter had tugged at her heart, as did his passion for plants. It had been a revelation to discover that despite his high rank, he had hopes and dreams like anyone else. Surely no one could wish death on such an intriguing man.

  Perhaps she’d misunderstood the laudanum-induced ramblings of a woman who only wanted the best for her son. A woman who was so mired in the past that she’d forgotten how to be happy.

  Avis arose from the chair and motioned to Tessa. Together they tiptoed out to the sitting room. “We can talk here,” Avis murmured, seating herself on a rose-and-white-striped chaise and patting the cushion beside her. “Her ladyship shouldn’t wake for a time. And pray don’t heed her gloomy words. She does go on at times.”

  Feeling out of her league in such fancy surroundings, Tessa settled onto the edge of the chaise. “Perhaps a rest will lift her spirits.”

  “One can always hope. Mr. Edgar is her only child after a number of miscarriages, you see, which is why she frets so much about him. But enough of this melancholy. I’ve been on thorns to know, is there any truth to the rumor that Lady Sophy broke a window this morning?”

  It must be all the talk belowstairs, Tessa realized. “Yes, she tossed a stone at the conservatory while we were in the garden. The duke came rushing outside, and the sight of his displeasure isn’t something I’ll soon forget.”

  Avis pressed a hand to her cheek. “The marvel is that he didn’t dismiss you on the spot. What did you say to him?”

  “I convinced him that she’d acted in a fit of pique and it wouldn’t happen again.” It wasn’t Sophy’s fault that she’d been duped into believing her father hated her. Only time and patience would heal the rift between them. Unwilling to reveal his private troubles with his daughter, Tessa glossed over the incident. “Once she made her apologies, he took her inside and showed us the parrots that he brought back from his travels.”

  Avis stared. “Why, His Grace never permits anyone in the conservatory except for Jiggs. You must be very persuasive.”

  “Rather, I believe the duke viewed it as a chance to spend time with his daughter after being gone for so many years.” The visit had been moderately successful, too. Despite Sophy’s wariness, the girl had been somewhat calmer during the noon meal and at naptime.

  A pity Tessa couldn’t say the same for her own peace of mind. The duke had startled h
er with the news that they’d be departing next month for his estate. Never had she imagined she’d be leaving London. If there was any hope of succeeding in her quest, she must act quickly.

  She fingered the delicate gold chain that disappeared beneath her bodice. Hide this … find him … father … pain … Those had been the last words her mother had spoken after being struck down by that runaway carriage. She’d placed this pendant around Tessa’s neck, and Tessa had never taken it off since that moment. But she was no closer to learning the name of her noble sire than when she’d worked as a hatmaker.

  She turned the conversation to her purpose. “Now that I’ve satisfied your curiosity, I wonder if I might ask you a question.”

  “Of course,” Avis said, her eyes alive with friendly curiosity.

  Tessa slowly drew the pendant from inside her high-necked bodice and cradled it in her palm. She’d never showed the piece to anyone for fear of being accused of stealing it. But she was no longer an orphaned child or a shopgirl. Here, as governess, she was presumed to be a lady of genteel blood. No one would blink an eye if she owned a modest article of jewelry.

  She held out the gold pendant. “I inherited this from my mama. There’s a design engraved on it. Do you by chance recognize it?”

  Avis leaned forward. “Your mother didn’t tell you anything about it?”

  “No, she died when I was very young, and there was no one else to ask.”

  “May I have a closer look?”

  At Tessa’s nod, Avis picked up the pendant and turned it toward the sunlight coming through a crack in the draperies. “Why, it appears to be a noble coat of arms.”

  Tessa was relieved to have that suspicion confirmed at least. “Yes, though I haven’t any notion which family it might belong to.”

  “Hm. There are two crossed swords topped by a coronet. And the winged beasts on either side appear to be griffins.”

  “Griffins?”

  “Fierce creatures from mythology.” Avis continued to scrutinize the piece. “Oh, look. It’s hard to see, but there’s a Latin word inscribed on the crest … VIRTUS … yes, that’s it.”

  “Do you know what it means?”

  “Indeed, I do. My father was a vicar and since he had no sons, he made me learn Latin. Virtus means ‘virtue’ and likely refers to the family having valor, courage, honor.”

  Virtue, Tessa thought scornfully, was hardly the proper description for a man who had tossed her mother out on the street upon learning she had conceived his child. “Am I to understand, then, that you’ve never seen this coat of arms before?”

  “No, I’m sorry,” Avis said with a shake of her head. “My own family was merely gentry, so I’m no authority on matters of the nobility.”

  Tessa swallowed her disappointment. “Well, thank you, anyway. Perhaps in time, I’ll spot it on a carriage door or affixed to a house.”

  “Wait, I just had a thought. Why not ask the duke? He must own a book on English heraldry. It surely would have illustrations.”

  “Oh? I didn’t know such a book existed.” Fearing her friend might find it odd for a governess to be so ignorant of such matters, Tessa added, “I’ve never before worked in a lord’s house, you see.”

  “And if Lady Victor read something other than novels, I might be of greater assistance,” Avis said wryly. “Yet there ought to be such a volume here. Perhaps His Grace will lend it to you.”

  As the conversation turned to other matters, Tessa vacillated between elation and anxiety. She itched to get her hands on that reference. At the same time, she hesitated to approach the Duke of Carlin. It was one thing to show her pendant to a fellow employee and quite another to do so to the master of the house. He was too clever a man not to ask uncomfortable questions that might unmask her true purpose.

  No, there must be another way to acquire that heraldry book. She would just have to formulate a plan.

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, seated at a table by one of the windows in the schoolroom, Lady Sophy howled in anger when Tessa held the needle and thread out of reach. “I wanna do it!”

  “You’ll prick your finger if you grab like that. First, you need a lesson in how to sew on a bead.”

  “Don’t like lessons.”

  Tessa curbed a smile at milady’s folded arms, tucked chin, and pouty mouth. It wouldn’t do to laugh when Sophy was in such a contrary mood. Yet she made such an adorable tyrant that Tessa ached to cuddle her close.

  She knew better, though. Not only was Sophy in no humor for affection but Tessa wasn’t certain if it were permissible conduct for a governess, anyway. Since the duke had promised to make an appearance here in the nursery, her behavior must be strictly proper.

  “Come, dearie, you do need instruction in sewing this headband. Stand in front of me and I’ll show you.”

  Sophy sulked for another moment before thankfully sliding off her chair. Tessa turned the girl and put her arms around her to demonstrate the technique. “Grasp the needle between your forefinger and thumb just so. I’ll hold the bead while you stick the needle through it. Careful now.”

  Though she guided the girl’s hand, Sophy was inclined to jab haphazardly, and Tessa was glad she’d had the foresight to wear a thimble. “Aim for the hole. That’s better. Now poke the needle through the cloth and pull the thread tight.”

  Sophy concentrated on the task and her face brightened. “I did it, Miss James! I sewed all by myself.”

  Though the yellow bead was cockeyed compared with the neat row Tessa had done, she praised the effort nonetheless. “Very good! Would you like to do another?”

  Even as Sophy nodded vigorously, a male voice intruded from the doorway. “Good afternoon, ladies. I apologize for being late.”

  Tessa’s heart took a wild leap and she turned to see the duke advancing toward them. She only vaguely noted he was carrying a picture frame at his side. Lud, he looked taller than ever in a formfitting chestnut-brown coat and tawny breeches that accentuated the muscled length of his legs. While window-shopping in the fashion district, she’d glimpsed many an elegant gent out on the strut. But none of those fancy lords could hold a candle to the Duke of Carlin. He had an indefinable quality that rattled her calm and made her feel alive to the core.

  Recalling her duty, she arose and dipped a curtsy. “Welcome, Your Grace. I was just now teaching Lady Sophy how to make the beaded band that will hold the feathers.”

  Carlin scanned the small wooden box of colorful beads and threads, leftover odds and ends that Tessa had collected over the years. Then he eyed the headband. “Very clever, Miss James. You’ve recalled the headdress perfectly from the picture in my study. Nevertheless, I brought this as a guide.” He lifted the frame at his side to display the watercolor painting of the rainbow-hued parrot feathers affixed to a beaded circlet.

  “Look, Sophy. Won’t you like wearing such a pretty hat?” At the girl’s nod, Tessa added, “Your papa saw it during his voyage around the world. He can advise us if we do anything wrong.”

  “I can certainly try,” he said.

  Carlin propped the painting on the fireplace mantel for their viewing. He glanced at the miniature chairs, then opted to sit on the nearby window seat, where he folded his arms and watched as Tessa guided his daughter in sewing on several more beads. His imposing presence seemed to fill the schoolroom. Yet there was also a little constraint in his manner, as if he was ill at ease.

  Had she been wrong to invite him here? Had she overstepped her bounds? No, it wouldn’t do to fret over that. He needed to spend time with Sophy so the girl would come to trust him.

  “Perhaps your papa will tell us about the people who made the headdress,” she said leadingly.

  “They live in South America, which is quite a long way across the ocean from England.” The duke went on to describe how he’d been seeking botanical samples in the rain forest just outside the port of Rio de Janeiro when he’d spotted a clan of locals, one of whom had been wearing such a headpiece.
They’d kept a wary distance, and having no wish to invade their boundaries, Carlin had remained still while doing a quick sketch of the group before they’d melted back into the trees.

  “I daresay they collected feathers from the ground just as you did,” he finished. “In the jungle, parrots are as plentiful as pigeons are here.”

  Sophy’s gravely cautious gaze lifted to him. Then she rummaged through the box for another bead. “Look, Miss James. A red one. I like red.”

  “We’ll give it a special place right here in the center, how’s that?”

  Supervising as the girl attached the bead, Tessa glanced up to see the duke regarding his daughter with a faint frown that seemed to convey a frustrated need. Her insides curled softly. Carlin wanted to be a good father, she felt certain, yet he wasn’t quite sure how to go about it.

  “I brought you a gift, Sophy,” he said. “A memento from my travels.”

  The word gift worked wonders. As he delved into an inner pocket of his coat, the girl abandoned all pretense of ignoring him. She stared wide-eyed as he produced a set of small wooden animals, beautifully carved from pale polished wood, which he arranged on the table.

  “Jiggs whittled these aboard my ship after we’d made a stop in Africa. There’s a lion, an elephant, a gazelle, and a giraffe.”

  Longing illuminated Sophy’s face, though she made no move accept the offering. Her gaze flicked from the carvings to him and then to Tessa. “Are they truly mine, Miss James?”

  A lump rose to Tessa’s throat. How sad that the child feared there might be some trick to Carlin’s present. She herself would have given much to have had a father who wanted to win her affections.

  She smoothed Sophy’s tangled hair. “Yes, dearie, and isn’t it lovely that your papa remembered how much you like animals? Perhaps you’ve something to say to him.”

  “Thank you, Papa,” the girl mumbled in a rush. Then she seized the pieces and scurried away to play with them on the hearth rug.