When a Duke Loves a Governess

by Olivia Drake

  “Point taken.”

  Now that he had Tessa in his company, Guy felt as awkward as a callow boy trying to impress his first girl. They stood in an alcove slightly apart from the other guests, and he longed for them to be somewhere private. Someplace where they could talk and trade wits as they’d done in the library. Perhaps then she would cease looking so cool and unapproachable.

  “Tessa, I—”

  “I’ve been wanting to—”

  They both stopped in chagrin. “Ladies first,” he said.

  She smiled slightly. “I’ve been meaning to thank you for asking Mr. Banfield about the book. A Display of Heraldry by John Guillim, you said in your note.”

  “I’m only sorry there isn’t a copy here. But Banfield assures me it’s in the library at Greyfriars, and he’s already written to my butler there. You should receive the book within the week.”

  “Thank you as well for sending Robinson Crusoe up to the nursery. I’m halfway through, and it’s been a pleasure to read.” Her voice warmed. “Fancy, Robinson Crusoe was captured by pirates! And now you’ve met a real pirate.”

  The sparkle that lit those blue eyes had an invigorating effect on him. For a moment, Tessa radiated a vitality that enhanced her lovely features. Her skin glowed like alabaster, and her lips wore a sweet smile that encouraged Guy to take a step closer. “I’ll be happy to tell you more,” he murmured. “We can sit down together sometime and discuss it.”

  Her expression changed subtly, the openness shuttering to the blank mask of a servant. “I’m quite busy these days, Your Grace. Lady Sophy is learning her letters and numbers, so of course that must be my primary focus.”

  Frustrated, he reached for her hand, taking care that none of the guests noticed. She seemed to need the connection as much as he did, for she didn’t pull away. Dainty yet capable, her fingers rested in his, and he had a vivid memory of them curling around his neck. “Tessa,” he said in a low, rough tone. “Don’t turn stiff on me, please. You have my promise that nothing improper will happen between us. Surely we can be friends.”

  She slowly shook her head. “No. You ask the impossible.”

  “Nonsense. If you’re worried about someone seeing us together, then we’ll rendezvous in the library late at night when everyone is asleep.”

  “Secret meetings would be wrong. You are a duke, and I am a governess. And it is no use pretending otherwise.”

  Her throat taut, Tessa gazed up at his ruggedly chiseled features and felt such a wrench of yearning that it stole her breath away. For once, she wished to be a fine lady who could be courted by a man of his rank. The warmth of his fingers around hers only heightened her longing for him. She’d never before felt like this about any man, and she feared that if they were alone together, temptation would prove impossible to resist.

  His stare burned deep into her soul. Yet she could tell that Carlin didn’t truly fathom her dilemma. A man in his exalted position couldn’t comprehend the problems faced by a woman of the lower orders. Even if their attraction were innocent, she dared not sit with him as if they were equals.

  It would only lead to trouble. For her, not him.

  Drawing her hand free, Tessa turned away to walk swiftly down the corridor to the rear of the house. Her steps checked momentarily when she saw Mr. Banfield watching from a nearby doorway. His stern look stirred the disquieting suspicion that he’d seen the duke holding her hand. Lifting her chin, she gave him a cool nod in passing.

  Let him think what he wished. His censure was no worse than that of the noble guests. Earlier, some of them had gazed askance at her drab gown. A few of the gentlemen had leered at her as if a governess were fair game for their predatory impulses. With Avis Knightley as company, it had been easier to ignore the swells, to laugh it off and hold her head high.

  The stark truth, however, was that she belonged in the nursery, not here among the Quality.

  The nobs could stuff it, Tessa decided as she climbed the servants’ staircase. They took pride in the money and titles that had been granted to them by birth, while she preferred to take pride in what she earned through her own hard work. Someday, she would have her revenge by charging them exorbitant prices for her bonnets.

  On that cheering thought, she entered the nursery. Lolly sat by the fire, mending one of Sophy’s pinafores. Seeing Tessa, the woman set aside her sewing and eased her stout frame out of the rocking chair.

  “Lady Sophy is still fast asleep?” Tessa asked.

  “Snug as a bug in a rug,” Lolly said, coming closer to hand over a note. “Winnie brung this up a while ago, miss. A young feller came to the kitchen door to deliver it to ye. I sat up to make sure ye got it.”

  Mystified, Tessa took the paper. It was folded over several times and sealed with a blob of yellowish candle wax. “Thank you, Lolly. That’s very kind of you. Well, good night, then.”

  The nursemaid peered expectantly as if hoping to discover the contents of the note, but Tessa desired privacy, for it could only have come from someone in her old life. She took a candle and made haste to her bedchamber. There, she carefully peeled off the hardened wax, unfolded the single sheet, and read the few scribbled lines. A frown instantly furrowed her brow.

  Clutching the paper, she walked to the window and stared out into the darkness. Pinpricks of light gleamed in the neighboring town houses, and far below, the shadowy shapes of carriages waited around the square for the guests to depart Carlin House.

  Tessa scarcely noticed the nighttime scene. Caught in a dilemma, she pondered the message from Orrin. His request would require her to break the rule forbidding servants to have visitors on the ducal property.

  Lud, what was she to do?

  Chapter 10

  In the chill of the predawn darkness, Tessa picked her way through the shadowy garden. An autumnal mist draped the bushes and made it difficult for her to see the path. Shivering, she huddled into her old woolen shawl.

  Despite the early hour, the servants were busy baking bread in the kitchen and laying fires to be lit when the family woke in a few hours. But out here, the world was dark and hushed. There was only the sleepy twitter of a bird high in the trees and the scrape of her shoes on the gravel.

  Ahead of her loomed the ghostly rectangle of a door in the garden wall. She glanced back to make certain no one was watching from a window. She’d have some explaining to do if anyone—especially Carlin—saw her stealing into the mews like a thief in the night. Thankfully, the house was dark, including the conservatory, where the parrots would be tucked in their nests.

  As she reached the gate, the black shape of a man materialized out of the shadows. Tessa yelped in surprise. An instant later, she blew out a sigh of relief. Although the gloom obscured his freckled features and rusty-red hair, she knew that compact figure.

  “Orrin Nesbitt, you frightened me half to death.” She lowered her tone to a whisper. “You said you’d be waiting in the mews.”

  He respectfully snatched off his flat cap. “A groom came out o’ the stables. So I hopped the fence t’ stay out o’ sight here.”

  Yet they were in sight of the house, and that made her uneasy. “There’s a night watchman on the grounds, so we’d best be quick. Why did you wish to see me? Is it about my mother? Have you learned where she used to work?”

  His note had merely asked Tessa to meet him at half past six. He’d offered no explanation. She’d almost declined to come until remembering that Orrin had offered to do some sleuthing on her behalf.

  “I’ve been on your mam’s trail this past week,” Orrin confided. “I quizzed the kitchen staff at some two dozen fancy houses. Pretended t’ be the long-lost son of Florence James. But nobody recalled her from twenty-two years ago. At least so far, anyhow.”

  His attempt touched Tessa’s heart. “Thank you. I do hope you realize, though, I never truly expected you to look for her.”

  He waved away her gentle admonition. “I’d’ve found her already if it weren’t for me typese
tter job at the paper. There’s hundreds more houses in Mayfair, but never fear, I mean t’ go t’ all of ’em even if it takes me a year.”

  Tessa couldn’t let Orrin waste his time trying to find a needle in a haystack. Not when she already had another plan in motion.

  “You mustn’t put yourself to so much trouble.” Clutching the fringed edge of her shawl, she paused, then plunged on, “You see, I’ve discovered another way to find out where Mama was employed. I’ve a gold pendant that belonged to her. For a long time, I didn’t realize the design engraved on it was anything important but now I think it’s a coat of arms for a noble family.”

  The darkness was beginning to lighten a bit, enough for her to detect his frown. “You never told me so,” he said, sounding injured. “Where is it? Lemme have a look.”

  She obligingly drew out the pendant from beneath her gown and allowed him to examine it. He squinted down at the engraving and turned it this way and that in his ink-stained fingers. “’Tis too dark t’ see much,” he grumbled. “Do you mean t’ say ’tis from your pa’s family?”

  “Yes, it must be. Where else would a maid get such a fine piece? He must have given it to her.”

  “As payment for warmin’ his bed, no doubt.” Orrin shook his head in disgust. “Hand it over, I’ll find the bleedin’ toff.”

  He made a grab to remove the filigreed chain from around her neck, but Tessa stepped back and tucked the pendant back into her bodice. “Thank you, but I’ll soon be able to identify the coat of arms myself. I asked Carlin if he has a book on heraldry and he’s sent for one from his library at Greyfriars—that’s his estate.”

  “Carlin, is it? Blimey, you sound on cozy terms with His High-and-Mighty Dukeship.”

  Hostility vibrated in Orrin’s voice and she realized to her surprise that he was jealous. With all that had happened, she had forgotten about his hopes for their future together. He mustn’t guess about that passionate kiss or her reckless attraction to Carlin.

  “Don’t be silly,” she said breezily. “The duke is a kind, considerate man, that’s all. You mustn’t think ill of him simply because of his title.”

  Instead of reassuring Orrin, her speech only seemed to make matters worse. He stood there scowling, his fingers gripped into fists, his manner radiating harsh emotion into the cool morning air. “Tell me the truth, Tessa. The blighter’s been tryin’ t’ charm you into his bed, hasn’t he?”

  “No! Certainly not.”

  “Well, if he hasn’t, he’ll try. It’s what them nobs do. Look at your mam, used an’ then tossed away like rubbish. We Brits need a revolution like in France t’ overthrow the aristos, who think they’re better’n the rest o’ us.”

  Picturing Carlin with his neck in a guillotine sent a cold shudder through Tessa. “Hush, that’s dangerous talk. You’ve never even met His Grace. I can assure you he’s a person with hopes and dreams, no different from you or me. In fact, he wouldn’t even be a duke if not for the Carlin Curse.”

  “The—what?”

  She blinked at him through the misty shadows. “It’s nothing, really. Several ducal heirs died within the space of a few years. That is how the present duke came into the title.”

  “The Carlin Curse, eh? What are their names?”

  “Whose names?”

  “These heirs what died. ’Tis just the sort of juicy scoop that folks like t’ read about in the papers.”

  Belatedly, Tessa realized that she’d piqued his journalistic interest. He’d asked her once before to keep her ears open for salacious gossip that she could feed to him. Now she’d handed him a story on a silver platter. Lud, she could only imagine what Carlin would have to say about such a scandalous news article. He’d sounded very strict while ordering his aunt never to speak of the Carlin Curse lest anyone repeat it.

  She folded her arms beneath the shawl. “Never you mind that. I’ll have your promise that you won’t write any such article.”

  “How’ll I ever be promoted t’ staff reporter without comin’ up with good stories? ’Tis the only way I’ll earn enough t’ marry an’ have a family. I thought you wanted that, too.”

  “Just promise me,” she repeated sternly. “I won’t have my employer’s family name dragged through the dirt.”

  His puppy-dog expression lapsed back into that jealous pout. “You’ve changed, Tess. You didn’t use t’ like the nobs. That’s wot comes from livin’ in such a posh house.”

  She bit her lip. Had she changed? Certainly, her horizons had grown with many new experiences, becoming a governess, inventing ways to coax Lady Sophy into good behavior, learning about other lands. And by kissing Carlin. That had opened up a whole new world in and of itself. A world of desire and decadence the likes of which she’d never known.

  All of a sudden, Orrin sprang forward to pull her against him. She snapped out of her reverie to realize that his face loomed mere inches from hers. “I want you t’ come home with me,” he declared. “You should be my wife, not a slave for some toplofty duke. He’ll never love you the way I do.”

  Orrin lowered his head and mashed his lips against hers. Tessa was so shocked by his uncharacteristic behavior that she stood as stiff as a marble pillar. How different his wiry form felt in comparison with Carlin’s solid, muscled build. With Carlin, she had been swept away into a sea of excitement, the outside world fading until there was only the two of them. But Orrin inspired none of those soaring sensations. Nor did she lose herself in his arms. She felt the chilly air at her back and heard the clatter of a cart out in the mews. There was no rise of passion, no sense of being one body and soul.

  Perhaps if she’d never known that thrilling ardor with Carlin, she might have been gratified by Orrin’s declaration of love and more amenable to his kiss. Instead, his embrace reminded her of being licked by an over-eager puppy. And it wasn’t a pleasant experience in the least.

  She turned her head to the side so that his lips slid wetly over her cheek. “Don’t, Orrin. That’s enough!”

  “Aw, lemme kiss you. We’re soon t’ be wed, after all.”

  “I’ve agreed to no such thing. Now let me go.”

  When she squirmed, he loosened his hold and leaned back, though his hands still gripped her upper arms. He wasn’t much taller than her, so she didn’t need to tilt her head back as she did with Carlin.

  In the half-light, he wore an injured frown. “You never used t’ put on airs with me. Is it your half-noble blood? P’raps I’m not good enough for you anymore.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. How can you even think such a thing?”

  “You’re all I think about, Tess, you an’ me, together as man an’ wife.”

  The yearning in his voice stirred guilt in her, and she remembered what a good friend he’d been, fetching medicine when she was sick, telling her all the neighborhood gossip on nights when she worked late, bringing her newspapers hot off the press. She’d sensed that he wanted more from her, though, and now it seemed he’d developed even stronger feelings than she’d anticipated.

  She lightly placed her hands on the shoulders of his fustian jacket. “Please try to understand, Orrin. I don’t mean to hurt you, but it’s best that you put me out of your mind. I’m in no position right now to think about marriage—nor are you.”

  “Hmph. So you are dallyin’ with the duke. Mayhap you’re hopin’ t’ be showered with jewels and gold as his mistress.”

  His incessant jealousy frustrated her, especially since his suspicions held a grain of truth. She had indeed dallied with Carlin, just not to the extent that Orrin had suggested. Yet it was insulting to be thought of as the grasping sort who would sell her favors to the highest bidder. If Orrin meant to persist in such mistaken beliefs, well, she was tired of arguing with him.

  “There’s no reasoning with you,” she said, too exasperated to defend herself anymore. “I think you had better leave—”

  The slam of a door interrupted her. She turned her head toward the house. Her heart jumped as a dar
k figure emerged onto the loggia.

  * * *

  Having tied his cravat, Guy turned away from the long pier glass and sat down on a leather-padded bench. The large dressing room resembled a men’s club with chestnut-paneled walls, paintings of horses and hunting scenes, and an abundance of cabinets, the majority of which were empty since he possessed only the essentials in clothing. Luckily, he had a valet who cared as little about fashion as he did.

  Jiggs handed him one boot, and then the other, while Guy tugged them on. The valet squinted with his one good eye while using a rag to rub at a spot on the glossy black leather. “Sure ye don’t want breakfast, Yer Grace?”

  “Later.” Guy surged to his feet. “Dawn is the best time to ride. The park is empty, and I can go for a gallop.”

  A cackle escaped Jiggs. “Too much time at yer desk, I s’pose. Sets a man t’ itchin’ fer action.”

  “Precisely.”

  Being in no humor for chatter this morning, Guy donned a forest-green riding coat and went into the darkened bedchamber that had once belonged to his grandfather. Gloom cloaked the heavy furnishings and the four-poster bed on its dais against the wall. Since he’d arisen early, no servant had yet come in to light the coals in the marble fireplace. He’d slept fitfully due to that encounter with Tessa after the lecture.

  You are a duke, and I am a governess. And it is no use pretending otherwise.

  Her parting words had needled him. She was right, of course, they oughtn’t be meeting late at night, no matter how much they relished each other’s company. The danger wasn’t so much the risk of being seen together. Rather, it was the heat smoldering between them that eventually would burst into flames. They would end up in his bed—and then what?

  Marriage was out of the question. She knew as well as he that they were not social equals. Such a match would be regarded with horror by the ton, not to mention his aunt and various other family members. Besides, he had sworn to avoid the institution. Once was enough to sour him.

  In his youth he’d been dazzled by Annabelle’s beauty and eager to speak his vows to her. By the time the fire of infatuation had burned away, and he’d discovered the shallowness beneath her charms, it was too late. Their marriage had grown increasingly contentious. Annabelle had craved balls and frivolities, the constant fawning of others, and she’d sulked whenever he’d devoted any time to scientific study. The endless pouting, the tearful quarrels, had stirred contempt in him until they’d spent more time apart than together.