by Olivia Drake
Carlin pensively watched his daughter. “I daresay I should have waited to give them to her. Now she won’t help with the headdress.”
“It’s quite all right, this project is rather difficult for a four-year-old, anyway.” While attaching another bead, Tessa murmured from the depths of her heart, “Oh, Your Grace, the animals were a wonderful notion. Now she’ll know you were thinking of her during the years you were gone.”
“You deserve all the thanks for your talk of souvenirs today. And let’s hope those figurines will deter her from snipping any more animal pictures out of books.”
The twinkle in his dark eyes flustered Tessa, as did the sight of him sitting so close, the sunlight haloing his magnificently masculine form. “Never fear, I always keep the scissors in my pocket when they’re not in use.”
He leaned forward to watch as she deftly tied off a thread and used the shears to snip off the ends. “That ribbon of beads looks wide enough, but isn’t it rather flimsy? How will it stay in place?”
“I’ll attach it to this strip of buckram, which I’ve shaped to fit Sophy’s head.” She picked up the circlet of linen from a nearby chair and frowned. “I’ve coated it with paste to stiffen it, but alas, the cloth still feels too damp. The fabric must be completely dry before the beads and feathers are attached.”
“You’re very knowledgeable about fashioning headgear.”
She cast her gaze downward on the pretext of hunting for a bead in the box. “Many women have a knack for sewing. I’ve found it more economical to make my own hats than to purchase them.”
“Yet I can’t think of a single lady of my acquaintance with the skills to make such a headdress. Have you any other hidden talents, Miss James?”
The teasing note in his voice brought her chin up. A half smile tilted one corner of his mouth, and his dark eyes held a gleam of playfulness. Lud, was he flirting with her? No, surely not. He was merely making conversation. Yet the hint of humor on his granite façade had a curious melting effect on her. It made her breathless, alive with fevered longings that must never be indulged with a man of his rank.
Blessedly, she was saved from replying as Winnie entered the schoolroom with the tea tray. Carlin’s face settled back into its usual cool look, as if he, too, had remembered his position and regretted that moment of levity.
He rose to his feet. “I’ll take that as my cue to depart.”
Tessa watched as he said goodbye to Sophy, and then strode out of the schoolroom. Deep inside her, a quiver lingered that was part attraction and part unease. He was a man who could throw her off balance. A man with eyes sharp enough to penetrate her soul.
One thing was certain. Her search for the heraldry book would have to be done while he was out of the house. And the sooner the better.
* * *
As the schoolroom clock chimed midnight, Tessa headed down the servants’ staircase. Her candle cast a circle of light on a series of plain wooden steps more suited to a boardinghouse than a fine mansion. This utilitarian shaft was designed to keep the staff out of sight as much as possible.
She was grateful that it hid her illicit purpose, too.
Unlike her first night here when she’d intended to hunt for a proper piece of paper in order to forge that letter of recommendation, Tessa had made sure this time not to fall asleep. She had spent the past few hours sketching hats, the one activity guaranteed to keep her mind alert. Her fingers ached from gripping the pencil for so long, but she was quite pleased with several of her new designs, including one of lemon-yellow fluted silk that was adorned with a tasteful cluster of parrot feathers.
Upon reaching the ground floor, she stepped into a wide marble corridor. The flickering light from a wall sconce illuminated the portraits of ducal ancestors in old-fashioned costume. Tessa spared only a glance for those long-dead forebears; her sole concern was to avoid a living, breathing duke.
Discreet questioning of Lolly had yielded the news that His Grace had gone out this evening to a fancy ball. Gossip ran rampant below stairs that he would soon take a bride, and that it was a blessing he’d finally recovered from the terrible blow of his wife’s death in childbirth. Tessa knew it was unwise to wonder about his private life. Nevertheless, her wayward mind produced an image of Carlin surrounded by a gaggle of beautiful ladies. At this very moment, he might be flirting with the lucky one he’d chosen to court and wed.
A wistful yearning assailed her, but she stifled it. How absurd to long for a fashionable silk gown made by a seamstress instead of cheap cotton sewn by her own hands—or to imagine herself as Cinderella being whirled around the dance floor by a handsome duke. Having not been raised a lady, she didn’t know the proper steps and would only make a laughingstock of herself.
Real life was no fairy tale. She must focus her mind on identifying her noble father in order to procure a loan to open her shop.
Tessa glanced up and down the corridor. The servants were gone to bed except for a footman stationed out of sight by the front door to await the duke’s return. Fortunately, her destination lay here at the back of the mansion.
Turning a corner, she tiptoed through a doorway and into the duke’s study. This seemed the most logical place to look for a heraldry book. There must be hundreds of volumes on the floor-to-ceiling shelves.
As she glanced around, the feeble light of her candle barely pierced the vast darkness. The black lumps of furniture resembled crouching beasts. Prickles skittered down her spine as the eerie stillness frayed her nerves.
Tessa shook off her foolishness. There was nothing to fear. She would locate the book swiftly and sneak it back to her bedchamber before Carlin could discover her invasion of his private sanctum. With luck, she would return the tome in a few days before he even realized it was gone.
As she began a methodical search, the rows of leather-bound volumes behind the desk turned out to be not books at all but ledgers. The pages were filled with numbers and notations that gave evidence to the extent of the ducal properties. A gold inscription on each spine listed the years chronologically, going back well over a century.
A peculiar ache twisted in her as she returned one of the volumes to its proper place. How lucky Carlin was to possess such records of his heritage, along with the portraits of his ancestors. Tessa had no knowledge whatsoever of her blood connections. Even if she succeeded in finding her father, he would never publicly recognize a long-lost bastard. He’d likely grant her the loan just to get rid of her. She very much doubted he’d know anything of her mother’s people, either. Mama had been a mere servant, after all.
She combed the rest of the study, finding books on a smattering of topics from agriculture to economics. But there was nothing on heraldry or the aristocracy or even English history. In truth, it seemed a paltry collection for such a wealthy duke. There wasn’t a single novel to be had, nor even a ragged volume of Shakespeare’s plays. It was odd to think that Carlin must have little interest in reading when he’d struck her as a well-educated man.
Thwarted, she decided to abandon her quest for the night. Perhaps sometime she could inquire at a bookshop.
On her way out of the study, Tessa spotted an object half hidden in the shadows behind the door. She stopped and stared. It was a large trunk, and its battered appearance seemed out of place in this gilded room.
Stooping down, she ran her fingertips over the leather bindings. The broad oblong top was scuffed and gouged by long use. Engraved on the front were the gold initials GLW. Guy L. Whitby? Her interest perked. Was this the trunk that the duke had taken on his voyage around the world? Why had it not been put up in the attic for storage?
Perhaps it contained odds and ends like those carved animals. Though he’d claimed not to have collected any souvenirs, Carlin might have some strange and unusual items, things that a duke wouldn’t deem worthy of mention yet would be of great interest to someone who’d never ventured outside London.
Curiosity nudged at Tessa. She fairly itched to see the con
tents of the trunk. No one need ever know if she took one little peek.
She was reaching for the metal clasp when a faint noise from out in the corridor broke the silence. Footsteps.
Her heartbeat sprang into a mad tempo. There was an almost stealthy quality to the soft padding of those steps. They sounded nothing like the sharp, measured stride of a footman.
There was no time to run. She pinched out the candle between her forefinger and thumb, then slipped behind the door.
Just in time.
A man strode through the doorway and halted just inside. In one hand, he held a glass-enclosed lamp. Its pale light cast his face into sharp relief, revealing a rugged jaw, granite features, and longish black hair.
The Duke of Carlin.
Barely breathing, Tessa stood perfectly still. Alarm thrummed in her blood. Oh, no! Lolly had vowed that fashionable parties went on into the wee hours of the morning. Why had His Grace come home early?
His elegant garb gave credence to his attendance at the ball. She’d never seen him arrayed in quite so breathtaking a manner. Although he’d shed his cravat, he looked superb in a well-tailored black coat, a watered gray silk waistcoat, and black pantaloons. His stocking feet explained why his steps had sounded muted.
The duke loomed a scant yard from her. Lud, what was she to do now? Her mind was in a whirl.
His gaze scanned the shadows, and she had the horrid feeling that he sensed her presence. He mustn’t spot her, Tessa thought feverishly. How would she explain her presence here in the middle of the night?
The moment stretched out in agonizing silence. She willed him to fetch whatever it was he’d come here for, and then go away so that she might dart upstairs to the safety of the nursery.
That hope shriveled as swiftly as it had arisen. He turned abruptly and stared straight at her.
His eyes widened slightly before narrowing again. Those dark orbs glittered like burning coals as he looked her up and down. “Miss James. What the devil are you doing in my study?”
Chapter 8
Pinned by his watchful gaze, Tessa forced herself to relax. It wouldn’t do to stir his suspicions. “Forgive me, Your Grace,” she said, dropping a curtsy. “You startled me.”
“Not as much as you startled me.”
“I-I couldn’t sleep. I was looking for a book to read.”
He glanced at her empty hands. “You don’t appear to have met with any success.”
“No, and it was presumptuous of me to have come here without your permission. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll bid you good night.”
The duke remained standing in place, blocking her path to the doorway. He towered at least six inches over her, all the better to peer down at her. “Why did you snuff your candle just now?” he inquired. “You were hiding behind the door.”
She lifted her chin. “When I heard muffled footsteps coming down the corridor, it didn’t sound like a servant. I was afraid it might be a robber. One hears so many hair-raising tales of footpads and thieves roaming the city.”
“There’s no danger of burglars here. My butler checks the locks each evening, and a night watchman patrols the grounds.”
“Oh … well, that is reassuring.”
“I’m glad. I wouldn’t want you to feel unsafe in my home.” A slight softening at one corner of his mouth indicated that he’d accepted her explanation, much to her relief. It also lent him an attractive allure that was sure to entice women—as proven by its warming effect on Tessa. “Were you looking for anything in particular, by the by?”
She blinked. “Pardon?”
“The book that you wanted. You can’t have thought to find any ladies’ novels in my study.”
There was no need to mention the pendant and invite pointed questions, she reasoned. A version of the truth would do. “I was seeking something on heraldry, Your Grace. As I’m living in a noble household, it would be helpful to learn the coats of arms belonging to the various aristocratic families.”
He raised an eyebrow, studied her for another unnerving moment, then gave a crisp nod. “You would do better to look in the library. I’ll take you there if you’ll wait a moment.”
As he stepped past her, Tessa caught a whiff of spice that smelled rich and alluring. She felt a bit foolish for not realizing that Carlin had a private library somewhere in this enormous mansion. He was an educated man, after all, and wealthy enough to purchase all the books he wished. She herself had yearned to patronize one of the public lending libraries, though the one-guinea subscription fee had exceeded her means.
The duke hunkered down, opened the trunk, and rummaged inside. Her curiosity piqued, she tried to look past him, but his broad shoulders blocked any view of the trunk’s contents. Closing the lid, he returned to her side with a thick notebook tucked beneath his arm.
“Come, I’ll show you the way.”
He courteously took hold of her elbow and guided her out of the study. The duke believed her to be gently bred, Tessa knew. He was treating her with the deference due a fine lady, unaware that she’d concealed her baseborn past.
As their footsteps echoed in the marble corridor, remorse over the deception weighed on her, and she longed to correct his misapprehension. Yet if she confessed the truth, that she’d lied to obtain the governess post, he would sack her at once. Not only would she lose the chance to identify her father, she’d be out of work. No millinery shop would hire her since Madame Blanchet had branded her a thief over that chip-straw bonnet.
What would happen then? How would she earn a living?
Those troubled reflections came to an abrupt halt as Carlin asked, “Did you and Sophy ever finish the headdress?”
“Yes, we did. She liked it so much I had a time convincing her to remove it at bedtime. I told her that the feathers would be sadly crushed by morning.”
“A pity I couldn’t have stayed, but I had a prior engagement for the evening. I don’t suppose she wanted to show it to me?”
Tessa’s heart squeezed at his hopeful look, and she felt loath to disappoint him. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to model it for you, Your Grace. In fact, I’ve been thinking we should arrange for you to visit with her on a regular basis, so that she might learn to trust you.”
“What would you suggest?”
Tessa thought for a moment. The custom in aristocratic households, she’d gathered, was for children to be brought down from the nursery several times a week for inspection by the parents. But in Carlin’s case, the situation called for something less intimidating to his daughter than standing in front of him and being drilled on her activities.
“I don’t believe a regimented meeting would be wise. If Lady Sophy is ever to overcome her wariness, you’ll need to befriend her—perhaps by engaging in activities together like watching the parrots. You might take her to the park to feed the ducks or to toss a ball back and forth.”
Carlin mulled that over for a moment before nodding. “Yes, that’s sound advice. But you’ll come with us.”
The trace of anxiety beneath his command filled her with the desire to help him. It touched her to see such a formidable man, a man who had braved the perils of a round-the-world voyage, hesitate to be left alone with his four-year-old daughter. “Of course, Your Grace.”
His eyes warmed as he studied her. “You’ve done well, Miss James. You’ve survived your one-week trial and have proven me wrong.”
His praise made her glow and she smiled. “I won’t deny that Lady Sophy is adept at testing one’s patience, but she can be a delightful child, too. You’ll soon see for yourself.”
“For the first time, I can actually believe that.”
He ushered her through a doorway and into a high-ceilinged chamber. Numerous rows of shelves along the walls housed more volumes than she’d imagined existed in the world. Yet for all its vast size, the room had a cozy ambience with a fire burning on the marble hearth and several candelabra to lend a soft gleam of light to the scene. Gold-cushioned chairs provided plac
es where one could curl up and enjoy a good story. Even the air held the pleasant perfume of leather bindings and old paper.
Her hands clasped to her bosom, she spun toward Carlin. “Why, there must be hundreds upon hundreds of books here.”
“Some four thousand, I believe. There’s another twenty or so thousand at Greyfriars. The library runs the entire length of the house. You’ll see it soon when we go there.”
The prospect of visiting his ducal estate appealed strongly to Tessa. Yet what if she’d located her father by then? What if she’d left the duke’s employ?
She buried an odd pang of regret. “I can’t begin to imagine such a treasure trove. What you have right here is quite staggering enough. Have you read all these books?”
“Hardly. Several of my predecessors were bibliophiles. It took over a century for them to assemble this collection.”
Her gaze swept the shelves again. Deep in her soul, she hungered to absorb all the knowledge in these works, for they were a stark reminder of her woeful lack of an education. “If it were me, I would devote my life to reading every one of them. Don’t you want to do so?”
He chuckled, a rich, velvety sound that wrapped around her senses. “Have patience, I’ve only just inherited them. Although you’ll be happy to know that when I spent my holidays here as a boy, I could often be found reading Robinson Crusoe or Gulliver’s Travels.”
When he regarded her like that, his strong features relaxed in a smile, it caused a lurch in her heartbeat. He seemed to relish her delight in the library, yet she sensed something quizzical, too, as if he found her reaction unusual. Perhaps a proper governess would have recognized those titles.
“Well, I confess to be overwhelmed by the sheer number of selections here, Your Grace. I only hope you can direct me to where I might find a book on heraldry.”
“Debrett’s Peerage may include coats of arms. There ought to be a copy around here somewhere.” As they strolled over the fine carpet, he tossed the notebook onto a table. Then he took her candlestick and set it down as well. “By the way, there’s no need to Your Grace me so much. It makes me feel like a doddering old man.”
