“Of course, Uncle,” the little girl said, a gleam in her eye that Calli wasn’t entirely sure of. The truth was, she had very little experience with children, as she and her siblings were all rather close to the same age. They couldn’t be particularly difficult to deal with, though… could they?
“To her actual room, Mary,” the duke said sternly, and Calli began to suspect that the children were not always as well-behaved as it might first seem. She bit her lip as she stared at the two of them, wondering if she had gotten herself into something she might not be able to handle.
“I must first go retrieve my bag, Your Grace,” she said with what must have been the clumsiest of curtsies. She had never been able to completely get it right.
“Where would your bag be, Miss Donahue?” he asked dryly.
“Tucked away near the front entrance,” she said. “I shall be but a moment.”
“What of the children?” he asked, one of his dark eyebrows raised.
Calli smoothed her hands down her skirts nervously. “What of them?”
“Who will watch them while you go retrieve your bag?”
“Umm…” Couldn’t he do it? It somehow didn’t seem entirely appropriate to ask, however. “I shall go later, then?”
“Very good,” he said, seemingly relieved. “Please meet me here in my study at one o’clock tomorrow afternoon, and we will review all of the particulars.”
She nodded, unable to keep herself from noticing the vivid blue of his eyes that seemed to bore right into her, seeing altogether too much.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“I best return to my party,” he said, but despite his words he made no actual move to the door, instead his gaze lingering on her, from the top of her head down to the borrowed slippers that were poking out from beneath her dress. “Welcome, Miss Donahue.”
“Thank you,” she practically whispered, so thrown was she by his perusal. She wanted to rage against his arrogance, that he could view her as some doxy to be so entirely objectified, but he was a duke — and now, her employer. Of a sort.
And then there was the fact that his stare left not just annoyance but also… a tingling that she didn’t know, nor didn’t want, to give name to. A tingling that wanted to know more of who he was and what he might think of her.
Which was ridiculous, she told herself, as she hurried the children out of the room, studiously avoiding this man’s gaze. They were down the hall and up the stairs before the children turned to her and began to talk, spinning what she already knew were tall tales.
“You sleep in the attic,” Mary said primly. “By yourself. Except for the ghost, of course.”
“Of course,” Calli murmured, doing her best to keep her twitching lips from curling up into a smile. “And is that where your bedrooms are as well?”
“No,” Matthew said, with a shake of his head. “Ours are on the second floor.”
“Do you sleep alone, then?” she asked, raising her eyebrows at them in mock horror. “Who is to protect you?”
“We don’t need protection,” Mary said, crossing her arms over her chest.
“You don’t?” Calli said, placing one hand on a hip, the other over her mouth as though she was properly horrified. “But what if the baddies come in the night?”
“The baddies?” Both children said in unison.
“Yes — the monsters that form from the dust under your beds and come to take revenge on the boys and girls who have created them!”
The children — who Calli considered must be twins — exchanged a glance at that.
“You are making up a story,” Matthew said, his bottom lip pouting out as he seemed entirely displeased.
“You are right,” Calli said, relenting. “I am.”
“Why would you do that?” Mary asked, her anger now overcoming the fear she had been trying to hide.
“Why did you make up a story for me?”
“Because… because we wanted to play a trick on you!” Mary responded.
“I know. And how did it feel to be on the other side of that?”
“I—” Mary began, exchanging a look with Matthew, but neither of them seemed to have an answer for her. “We’ll show you to your room,” she said, pouting as she began down the second floor corridor. Calli smiled in satisfaction. Perhaps she had this handled after all.
Mercifully, the children fell asleep rather quickly, and Calli was soon creeping back downstairs, looking up and down each corridor to make sure that no one saw her sneaking about the house. The staff would soon recognize her as the governess, and she had to make sure that she wasn’t tied to a guest at the event. She thanked the heavens when she saw Diana outside of the ballroom, her face screwed up in concern as she was apparently looking for Calli.
“Diana!” Calli hissed from around the corner. “Diana!”
Diana’s head turned at her name, and she hurried toward Calli, grabbing her hand and rushing them into one of the small rooms, which seemed to be a parlor.
“Where have you been?” Diana exclaimed.
“Well, I found the painting,” Calli said, as hurriedly as she could. “But I found something else as well. As soon as I found it in the study, the door opened and two children came in.”
“Children?”
“Yes, children. It seems they are the niece and nephew of the duke. They began to question me about who I was and what I was doing there, but I was able to evade their inquisition and turned it around on them. Soon enough, I was telling them a story — one that Arie always told us when we were younger — and then the next thing I knew, the duke walked in!”
Diana gasped. “He didn’t.”
“He did.” Calli nodded grimly. “And he took me to be the new governess.”
“Oh, Calli,” Diana groaned. “You weren’t supposed to get yourself noticed.”
“Well, too late for that,” Calli said with a shrug. “I decided, however, that it might actually be of benefit. It will give me time to study this painting, to complete my own version to my liking. By the time I am finished, we can switch them out and no one will be the wiser.”
“Are you sure about this?” Diana asked, her worry evident. “We all have our skills, you know. Yours is your painting, we all know that. But as to your level of deception…”
“I’ll be fine,” Calli said with a wave of her hand. They were always doubting her, and she was sick of it. She was going to prove that she could handle this — all of this — and for once, be the hero of the family. “But I do need your help.”
“Of course.”
“I need you to retrieve a bag for me — quickly, as I said it was here, in the house. I’ll need some dresses, ones that are passable as a governess but nothing that is particularly pretentious. All the essentials as well as my oil paints — the ones that Xander mixed for me. You know what to bring. Meet me at the servant’s entrance in two hours’ time.”
Diana nodded. “Very well. And what shall I tell Arie?”
“The truth.”
* * *
And so, two hours later, Calli was crouched down outside of the servants’ entrance, shivering as she waited for her sister to arrive, hoping once more that she would attract no notice.
It was dark back here, a few hedgerows separating the mews from the front green.
A figure approached in the dark, but as it neared, Calli soon realized that it wasn’t her sister after all, but rather one of her brothers. Despite knowing she should stay in the shadows, she couldn’t help herself from jumping up and running to Xander — the only one of her siblings who was so by blood and not by the assumed family they had formed.
“Xander!” she said, wrapping her arms around him, relieved at the opportunity to be able to talk to him. “What are you doing here?”
“Arie sent me instead of Diana,” he said in a hushed voice, pulling Calli back into the shadows. “He didn’t think she should be out again alone.”
“It is my fault she had to return alone in the first p
lace,” Calli muttered, wondering if this entire scheme was ridiculous.
“She told us what happened. I think it was rather quick of you to go along with everything.”
“Thank you,” Calli said, lighting up a bit inside at the praise. “What did Arie say?”
The head of their family was one of their toughest critics, though he also loved them all more than anyone else ever would.
Xander hesitated. “At first, he was upset.”
“I knew he would be.”
“Only because he was worried about you,” Xander added. “Then he began to see the merits of the idea.”
“Good,” Calli said, letting out the breath she didn’t even know she had been holding. “And what do you think?”
“I think that it would be rather interesting to stay and watch you in the role of a governess,” Xander said with a laugh, and even though it was dark, Calli could picture the twinkle in his eye. “However, my job is to watch you from a distance, make sure you are all right. How long do you think this painting will take you?”
Calli frowned. “It is more detailed than I thought, and while I do have a private room, it connects to the children’s, which will make finding time difficult. I shall have to do it at night, once everyone is asleep. It could take a few weeks.”
Weeks away from her family, in a strange house, with children who she had a feeling were not going to make life easy for her.
“You can do it,” Xander said encouragingly, and she was suddenly most worried about what it was going to like to be away from her brother. “If you need anything, just look for me. I’ll be close.”
Calli took the bag from his outstretched hand, then reached in to give him one last embrace.
“Thank you, Xander.”
“I have faith in you, Calli.”
Chapter 3
Jonathan woke the next day in the foulest of moods.
He kept his eyes closed even as his valet opened the curtains, trying to remember what had caused his ire.
There was the party, which, while many would have called it a success, his mother would consider a failure for he had not danced — not even once. None of the women were enticing enough, nor promising enough to attract his attention, and he certainly had no wish to lead on any woman who might be holding out hope to be his bride.
And then—oh yes, and then.
There had been one woman whom he had considered with more than a passing glance. A woman with red, rosy lips that stretched into an all-too-enticing smile. One certainly too enticing for a governess. A woman with a beauty mark that drew attention to the most peculiar violet-blue eyes which widened in an innocence that his niece and nephew were going to take advantage of in no time at all. A woman whose form was too curvy in all the right places, with hips that invited him to cup, breasts that were far too pert and welcoming, and a waist he wanted to span with his hands.
The governess. The woman who would now be living in the same house as him, tempting him, taunting him, when she was supposed to be keeping the children from destroying his life.
Once she had stood from his desk and he had gotten a good look at her, he had been tempted to tell her to turn around and leave. He knew, however, that it might be difficult to find another governess, and he was in a rather tight spot already. But he had enough to worry about without a siren under his roof, most especially a siren who didn’t seem to understand the proper protocols in the house of a duke.
Such as not sitting in his chair. Not entering his study without permission. And not suggesting that he watch the children as though he was a nursemaid himself.
The memory of her cheeks turning a most endearing shade of red did summon forth the ghost of a smile, however, and that was when his valet, Oxford, greeted him.
“Tea, Your Grace?”
“Very well,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?”
“Eleven o’clock, Your Grace.”
Two hours, then, until his meeting with the governess. He should have Mrs. Blonsky do it. But then, Mrs. Blonsky had made it clear she wanted as little to do with the children as possible. He sighed and squared his shoulders. Best to do this himself.
* * *
Calli’s brother had prepared her for many circumstances that might arise from her foray within the nobility. He had not, however, foreseen that she just might become a governess.
Which meant that she had no idea just what, exactly, she was supposed to do with these two children.
Breakfast took up the first hour — which, they told her, they never ate with their uncle.
Afterward, they sat around the small round table in the corner of the nursery with its rather blank walls that Calli felt required much more adornment, looking at one another with open curiosity.
“How often do you see him?” Calli asked, trying not to appear overly curious, as she wondered just what the relationship was between these children and their standoffish uncle. He didn’t seem particularly interested in them.
Matthew shrugged. “Sometimes for dinner.”
“But not often,” Mary added. “He doesn’t like us much.”
“What are you talking about?” Calli exclaimed. “Of course he likes you!”
Mary snorted, her expression advanced beyond her years. “You don’t know him. He doesn’t like children, and he wishes he’d had nothing to do with us. He’s still mad at Mother for leaving us.”
“Oh, I’m sure she had no choice,” Calli said, her heart opening to these children, knowing that their mother must have passed in order for them to have been left alone.
“She did,” Mary said with a curt nod of her head, her blond hair dancing around her chin as she did so. “She ran off to America. Her new husband didn’t want us, so she left us behind.”
Calli stared at them, speechless.
“No…”
“Yes,” Matthew said with such emphasis that Calli realized how deep the children’s scars must be right now. “But it’s fine. We have each other. Right, Mary?”
“Right,” she said with a small smile, and if Calli’s heart wasn’t already aching for these children, it began bleeding anew. They may not feel wanted, but whatever time she was going to be spending here, she would show them that they were worth something, that she enjoyed their company.
As long as they never found out her true reason for being here.
“What would you like to do today?” she asked, perhaps overly brightly.
“We don’t have to do any schooling?” Mary asked, her eyes widening hopefully.
“Not today,” Calli said, shaking her head. She would have to figure out that aspect of her job here — sometime between actually caring for these children and painting. “Let’s do something fun.”
“Go to the park?” Matthew asked, and Calli nodded.
“A fine idea, for later in the day after I meet with your uncle.”
“Do you think Uncle would come with?” Mary asked in a small voice, her gaze on the table, and Calli shrugged.
“Perhaps,” she said, although she had a good idea just what the duke would say to the suggestion. “I shall ask him. I cannot make any promises, though. Even if he would like to come, there is a good chance he might be busy.”
“He’s always busy,” Matthew said, with forced bravado in his voice.
“Your uncle is an important man,” Calli said carefully. “Now, come. We have a couple of hours until I must meet with your uncle. Until then, we shall play a game.”
“What kind of game?”
“What kind do you like?”
“Charades?”
“Very well,” she said with a smile. “Let’s do it.”
* * *
“Enter,” Jonathan called at the light knock on the door.
Miss Donahue stepped into his study at his call, but he didn’t look up as he kept his eyes on the ledger before him. He was reviewing his stock in the shipping company in which he had recently invested. Many men of his station refused to sully their hand
s or their money in trade, but Jonathan didn’t see why he shouldn’t invest his funds to grow them further. It would only help the entirety of the estate.
He remained so focused in part because he didn’t want to rest his eyes upon this new governess until she was sitting down, so he wasn’t tempted once more by the luscious curves he knew she possessed. Hopefully today she was wearing something that did much more to hide what was beneath.
Sensing her presence hovering next to his desk — a scent of honeysuckle suddenly invading and nearly overwhelming him — he found he had no choice but to look up.
“Please sit.”
She did as he bid, and he tried to keep himself from too openly appraising her, as difficult as it may be.
Her hair today was much looser, tendrils of curls escaping the chignon at the back of her head to wave around her face. He guessed that she had help preparing herself yesterday, and struggled now to tame what looked to be a wild mane. He wondered if it was any sort of reflection on her own personality. Would she be a difficult woman to employ?
The thought of wild abandon brought altogether wicked thoughts to his mind, which he pushed away as quickly as he could. That was not why this woman was here.
Jonathan was not a rake of any sort, although he was not a saint either. Why this woman caused such notions to fill his head, he had no idea.
Today she wore a dress of navy blue, as demure as the gown she’d worn yesterday, yet somehow it highlighted the color of her eyes and accented her cheekbones.
“You wished to speak to me?” she said, her smooth, rich voice filling the silence, and Jonathan cursed himself for losing control. The woman must have bewitched him last night for him to be acting such a way.
“Yes,” he said with a nod, finding a sheet of paper on the corner of his orderly desk. “Here you will find your salary for each week. I am sure it will meet with your approval. You have every Sunday evening off to do as you please. The children are expected to learn reading, writing, arithmetic, history, geography, and general etiquette. You will teach them accordingly. They are to remain in the second story unless invited to the ground floor. If you are required elsewhere, Mrs. Blonsky can look after them for brief moments of time. Do you have any questions?”
The Art of Stealing a Duke’s Heart: Thieves of Desire Book 1 Page 2
