When a Duke Loves a Governess

by Olivia Drake

  “But … I’m bastard-born. I don’t even know the name of my father.”

  “Bah. We shall concoct a story to explain your absence from England all these years. Perhaps Flossie ran off to Italy, where she wed an Englishman by the last name of James.” Devising his plans, he limped around the bedchamber, the tip of his cane thumping on the carpet. “Ah, then you must remain Miss James, after all.”

  “I don’t speak Italian!”

  His age-spotted hand waved away the argument. “Then let us say Canada. All that matters is that it be a distant locale, somewhere not easily disproven. People may whisper, but no one will dare to question my word that you are my long-lost granddaughter.”

  “I should rather you would lend me the funds to open a millenary shop.”

  “My granddaughter in trade? Never! No, you shall join me in this house and prepare to take your rightful place in society.”

  His obstinate face made Tessa’s heart sink. Lud! Her entire life had been turned topsy-turvy. She had come here with the simple hope of securing the means to design elegant hats for ladies—not to be taken into a noble family and expected to be one of those ladies.

  “I couldn’t possibly live here, milord. We’re strangers to each other. And there’s Lady Sophy—His Grace’s daughter—to consider. I can’t simply abandon the child.”

  Lord Marbury parted his lips to argue, but Carlin spoke first. “This has all been very distressing for Miss James. It would be most kind of you to allow her a few days in which to accustom herself to the news.”

  The marquess wasn’t happy, but in the end he agreed. He needed time, anyway, to prepare the house, to hire additional staff, to write to a spinster cousin and command her to London at once to act as his granddaughter’s chaperone. He seemed brighter and livelier, as if he’d gained new life from the news. He was still scheming as they departed his house.

  In something of a stupor, Tessa entered the carriage and sat down. So many thoughts were darting around in her head that she hardly knew how to focus on any one of them. She had a blood relative; no longer was she alone in the world. And if her grandfather enjoyed books, as his overstuffed library would indicate, she thought he might be an interesting conversationalist.

  Yet to enter the ton, to hobnob with the swells! She, who had never attended a single society event except Carlin’s lecture, would be expected to know how to waltz, to play cards, to ride horses, to chitchat with nobles, and a thousand other highbrow skills. The very notion threw her into a panic.

  “Well,” the duke said coolly, “I cannot say that I’ve ever seen Marbury so animated about anything. He was always a dour fellow, and it’s good that he took the news of a long-lost granddaughter so well.”

  “Good?” Tessa burst out. “No, Carlin. I cannot do this. I can’t move into his house and pretend I’m one of the Quality. I don’t wish it.”

  He gave an incredulous laugh. “Not wish it? Tessa, you’ve acquired a very wealthy and powerful family connection. If Marbury wants to acknowledge you publicly, I’d strongly advise you to take his offer.”

  “But I scarcely know the man. And the life he expects me to lead is not at all what I had planned for myself. You know that.”

  “Becoming a shop owner can hardly compare to becoming a lady. Of course you must give it all up. It will be an adjustment, but in time you’ll see the value in accepting your heritage.”

  She goggled at Carlin, who seemed utterly oblivious to her concerns. How could she have ever thought him a fair man, one who would listen to her? And why were his eyes narrowed on her, as if he, too, were scheming? His frown suggested that he disliked the situation, yet he was still urging her to accept it.

  “How dare you presume to dictate what I must give up,” she said heatedly. “I’m accustomed to labor, not luxury. Even my childhood years were spent at hard work. I may have noble blood, but I certainly didn’t grow up in a mansion staffed with servants. I know nothing of music and dancing and all the other accomplishments of a lady.”

  “You can sew, you can draw, and you have a natural grace of manner. Any other skills can be acquired from tutors.” Looking every inch the high-and-mighty duke, he sat unsmiling as the carriage transported them over the cobblestoned streets. “It would be wise to put our minds to creating a foolproof background to explain where you’ve been all these years. Something you could feel comfortable in adopting as your own.”

  Tessa stiffened. His alignment with Marbury’s plan felt like a betrayal. “So after denouncing me for lying about my past, now, when it suits your purposes, you wish me to lie about my past again. Some would call that hypocrisy.”

  He firmed his lips. “I should rather call it pragmatism.”

  She fumed in silence for a moment before trusting herself to speak. “What matter is any of this to you, anyway? It is my life, not yours. I don’t see why you should have any dealings with it at all.” She paused in frustration, wondering at his coolness of manner and comparing it with the lustful heat she’d sensed in him earlier. “Perhaps you wish to remove temptation from your sight because you’d intended to set me up as your mistress—and now you daren’t do so. Well, allow me to enlighten you, Your Grace, I would never have agreed to any such arrangement. One night was all I ever wanted.”

  That was not quite true, she admitted to herself. Even now, she longed to be clasped in his arms with his lips upon hers. But she would never, ever admit that aloud.

  To her consternation, Carlin gave an odd laugh and shook his head. He studied her for a moment before uttering in a rough tone quite unlike himself, “Then you will be pleased to know how wrong you are. I trust you will do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage?”

  Tessa felt instantly robbed of her wits. Of all the things he could have said! But he could not mean those words. He must have flung them out in a pique over her rejection of his lovemaking. Dukes didn’t marry governesses. They chose well-bred ladies like Annabelle the Angel. As verification of that truth, Tessa could detect no light of affection in his eyes, no tenderness in his hard features, no ardent air of the lover.

  Her breast heaving, she leaned forward, her gloved fingers fisted in her lap. “Spare me your mockery, sir. It is beneath you.”

  One eyebrow lifted. “Mockery? Hardly. We’ve no choice in the matter.” Then, instead of extolling her beauty or declaring his undying love or even kissing her hand, he made an even worse blunder. “You must see that marriage is required after our tryst last night. As Marbury’s acknowledged granddaughter, you are a lady now. And having ruined you, I owe you the protection of my name.”

  His terse explanation only made her spirits sink lower. Well, at least that explained the chill in his manner. This proposal didn’t spring from any tender longing of his heart. “So you feel forced into offering for me. Never fear, your sacrifice isn’t necessary. I should rather be a shop owner than a duchess.”

  He stared at her a moment; then his features softened as he leaned forward to grasp her hand. “Forgive me, Tessa. That was poorly done. I meant no offense. It’s just that … I never thought to marry again. This has come as a shock to me as well as to you.”

  The remorseful sincerity in his eyes tempted her. She could even understand that his plans for his life had been thrown into disarray as much as hers.

  But though her imprudent heart yearned for him, it was bitterly obvious that Carlin was acting out of gentlemanly duty because of her blue blood. If he felt any true fondness, he’d have proposed the previous night when she had been a common nobody. Now everything in her rebelled at entering into a loveless marriage to a man whose affections must still belong to his late wife. A man who felt obliged to offer matrimony. A man whose high rank would prevent her from fulfilling her life’s dream.

  As the carriage rolled to a halt in front of Carlin House, she pulled her hand from his. “You may have no choice, Your Grace, but I am a free woman. And my answer is no. I will not marry you. Not now or ever.”

  Chapter 16


  Guy spent the next several days dismally aware of how badly he’d bungled his marriage proposal to Tessa. He had plenty of time to reflect during his fruitless hunt for the stolen diaries. His days were spent checking in at Bow Street, following up on leads, and questioning the highbrow attendees at the lecture who required more delicate handling than could be expected of a rough-mannered Runner. His mind wasn’t entirely on that mystery, though, because all too often he would think back on that clumsy offer.

  From the moment he’d confirmed her connection to Marbury and had seen that the marquess intended to bring her out in society, Guy had faced the inevitability of the marriage. Admittedly, he had been angry, not at Tessa but rather at the circumstances. He had vowed never to wed again. Like her, he’d had his life arranged, and a wife did not figure into it.

  Nevertheless, he oughtn’t have blurted out the proposal like that—in a carriage, by God!—when she’d already been in a state of distress over the encounter with her grandfather. He should have had the brains and the courtesy to choose a more appropriate time and setting. Tessa of all women deserved the trappings of romance, the flowers, the diamond ring, and the suitor down on one knee to plead for her hand.

  Instead, his wits had deserted him. He had behaved like a clodpate, citing her newfound status as his rationale for the union. He had presented the offer with all the charm of a business deal, and in fact had given her little choice but to agree to it. Worse, he’d been arrogantly certain she’d welcome the solution, as it meant she could share his bed, would become Sophy’s mama, and needn’t reside with her grandfather except for the short period of the betrothal. Not, of course, that he had even bothered to voice any of those advantages.

  No wonder she’d thrown his words back into his face. It had not been an offer, it had been a decree. And her refusal had left him dumbfounded and dissatisfied when he ought to have been celebrating his escape from the shackles of wedlock.

  The devil of it was, he had warmed to the notion of having Tessa as his wife. He enjoyed her company, her lively curiosity, her witty conversation. He would relish the pleasure of providing a few siblings for Sophy, too. And given Tessa’s disgust of society, she wouldn’t force him to squire her to endless balls and parties as a well-born lady would do. In fact, he suspected she’d far prefer to sit in the library of an evening, curled up beside him, absorbed in reading a book, at least until he leaned over and kissed her …

  Yes, they were compatible in many ways, and he’d been a fool not to have recognized that from the start. He fully intended to revisit that botched proposal, once she’d had a few days in which to cool down.

  In the meantime, he had attempted to restore himself to her good graces. He had sent her books from the library, especially chosen to entice her interest. He had ordered cream buns delivered to the nursery each day because he knew she liked them. He had invited Sophy to the conservatory for another look at the parrots, in the hope that Tessa would come, too, though it had been the nursemaid, Winnie, who had escorted his daughter.

  Today, however, he had decided to take more direct action. By shamelessly exploiting the occasion of Sophy’s fifth birthday, he intended to tempt Tessa out of her self-imposed exile.

  Directly after that botched offer four days ago, he’d had the foresight to ask Banfield to procure ringside tickets to Astley’s Amphitheatre and had shelled out an exorbitant fee for an entire private box, which normally would have seated a dozen or so people. Then this morning, he had dispatched a note to the nursery, asking Miss James to accompany him and his daughter to the afternoon’s performance.

  Alas, the passage of time appeared not to have softened her.

  During the carriage ride, Tessa paid him little heed. She encouraged Sophy to engage him in a game of seeing who could spot more dogs on the street. Guy enjoyed the interaction with his daughter, although Tessa resisted his every effort to coax her to participate. All cool courtesy, she was back to hiding her beauty with high-necked, long-sleeved gowns, this one a charcoal gray. She also wore a matching gray bonnet with a discreet cream bow that somehow looked stylish despite her obvious effort to fade into the background.

  Guy suspected it was her way of showing disdain for the rank of duchess that he had so ineptly presented to her. She took pride in being a member of the working class. And that put him at a distinct disadvantage. While other ladies viewed the acquiring of a title as a prized asset, Tessa spurned it as a hindrance. She scorned the trappings of status, and his misbegotten proposal had failed to take her views into account.

  For that, he bore her cold shoulder as his rightful penance. He hoped this outing would help make amends and restore their camaraderie. Without any rapport between them, his wooing of her was doomed to failure.

  As he ushered them into their box on the lowest tier, Tessa placed Sophy in between them. Despite it being October, when London was thinner of company than in the spring season, most of the seats were filled. There were benches for the masses while a finer circle filled the more expensive boxes. He spied a few familiar faces, members of the ton who were here with their families, and he thought it best not to catch their eye. If they were to visit this box, he had no confidence they might not snub Tessa and turn her even more against joining their ranks.

  They were situated just above the circular shallow pit and could not have had a more perfect view. Laughter and chatter enlivened the air, along with the scent of sawdust and the discordant sounds of an orchestra tuning its instruments. At one end of the ring stretched a large stage where roustabouts were preparing scenery backdrops for one of the events.

  Sophy bounced up from the seat and hung her elbows over the low ledge, her lacy petticoats visible beneath a lemon-yellow gown. “Look, Miss James! That man is throwing three balls in the air all at once.”

  A juggler and a few other performers were warming up the crowd before the start of the main show. Her eyes alight with interest, Tessa appeared as excited as Sophy, and Guy suspected this was her first time at any such venue.

  “I’m sure I would drop them,” she said. “Oh, my, now he’s added two more balls. And do you see those acrobats doing cartwheels?”

  “There’s a clown, too,” Sophy said, “riding in a wagon pulled by a dog.”

  Listening to his daughter’s happy giggles, Guy smiled. As much as he hoped to win Tessa, he also had a strong wish to please Sophy. She had expressed a longing to visit the circus, and although this entertainment would be largely equestrian, it was as close to a circus as anything in London.

  The show commenced to great fanfare and the roar of the crowd. They were treated to a series of performances, trick riders doing handstands and other amazing feats on the backs of cantering horses, then a quartet of mares dancing the minuet in perfect time to the music, and next, fencers on horseback, the clash of steel blades ringing out with the trample of hooves.

  Sophy cheered and clapped. She and Tessa looked especially awed as the show switched to the stage, where tightrope walkers nimbly performed stunts high above the ground. Women in fancy skirts danced with elegant gents on the high wire, bowing and dipping and twirling.

  When one couple teetered, having to catch their balance, Sophy scrambled onto his lap, much to his surprise, and hid her face against his coat. “Ooh, Papa, they’re going to fall!”

  His heart melted as she wrapped her small arms around his waist. In wonder, he held his daughter close, acutely aware that this was the first time she’d ever shown any true sign of trusting him. How he longed for her to turn to him for comfort—always.

  “Never fear,” he said soothingly, “they’ve practiced for hours and hours. And I daresay the rope is much sturdier than it appears to us from a distance.”

  Sophy considered that for a moment and then peeked back at the stage to watch with restored confidence.

  Stroking her silken dark hair, already untidy, he glanced over to see Tessa observing them. A soft smile curved her lips. As their eyes met, the smile less
ened somewhat, though it didn’t quite disappear, either. What did vanish was the crowd, the whistles, the applause, and the show itself until it was just the three of them, joined together as a family.

  The allure of her held him spellbound. His brain addled, Guy knew he ought to say something to advance his suit, yet no words rose handily to his tongue. Her gaze sparkled, her cheeks were flushed, and he hoped it was as much for him as the entertainment. No other woman had ever tied him into such knots. He had the unsettling thought that this fascination he had for her might surpass mere infatuation.

  The crash of cymbals shattered the moment, and she returned her attention to the stage. As the tightrope walkers shinnied down the ropes to a wild ovation from the crowd, Guy took a deep, restorative breath. Tessa wasn’t entirely indifferent to him, that much was certain. No doubt she was still miffed with him, yet there had been a glow in her eyes, too.

  “Look, clowns!” Sophy exclaimed.

  She slid off his lap and went to the wooden ledge, leaning on it to get a better view of the riders that came trotting into the ring. They were garbed as jesters with masked faces and garishly striped clothing, and the full-grown men looked ridiculous mounted on little ponies.

  Taking advantage of their momentary privacy, Guy edged closer to Tessa and murmured for her ears alone, “I’ve you to thank for taming the feral kitten. How, pray tell, did you achieve this miraculous change?”

  “By citing your better qualities these past few days. It is what you hired me to do, after all.”

  A cool veil had come over her face, so he attempted a jest. “In light of that clumsy offer, I’m pleased you could find something good to say about me.”

  “I would never let our quarrel stand in the way of Sophy’s happiness. Like any child, she deserves to know that her papa loves her. Now do let us enjoy the show.”

  As she returned her gaze to the arena, Guy was stymied by her abrupt end to the conversation. How was he ever to win her if she wouldn’t speak to him? Then he reminded himself that now was hardly the time or the place to woo Tessa. He’d already made that mistake with his misbegotten proposal.