When a Duke Loves a Governess Page 14

  The memory left a bad taste in his mouth. Over the years, he’d made his peace with the past, though wedlock still wasn’t for him. But he’d always be grateful to Annabelle for one reason. She’d given him Sophy.

  Guy’s chest tightened. He would never forget the joy of cuddling her tiny form for the first time. Yet he’d felt frightened, too, that he’d fail her as he’d failed at marriage. If he wasn’t fit to be a husband, he surely wasn’t fit to be a father, either. Hounded by that fear, he’d sailed away from England, believing his daughter to be better off in the care of her grandparents.

  Yet that, too, had been a terrible mistake. Sophy now believed her father hated her. And he needed Tessa’s help to convince her otherwise.

  For that reason alone, Guy knew he must resist his bodily desires. After having neglected his daughter for years, he couldn’t rob her of the one person she was beginning to trust. He could not set up Tessa in a discreet house for his pleasure, as was common among gentlemen of his class. She’d never agree to such a demeaning arrangement, anyway. Nor did he wish to dishonor Tessa, no matter how much he ached for her.

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

  Those words were a grim reminder that his life was no longer his own. Along with the title came the duties of running several estates, overseeing myriad holdings and investments, and directing enough employees to populate an entire town. Any spare time he could eke out of his busy schedule must be devoted to the book he was writing, to his research in the conservatory, and to redeeming himself in the eyes of his daughter. Nothing else mattered.

  He couldn’t keep losing sleep over his obsession with a woman.

  That was the real reason why he’d decided to go for a ride, to clear his mind and regain his focus. He was looking forward to an hour of freedom. During the years of sailing around the globe, he’d missed the invigorating briskness of an English autumn.

  It had been pitch dark when he’d woken but now the sky had grown lighter. He walked to a window to assess the weather. A lustrous pink glow on the horizon tinted the neighboring houses and heralded the dawn. It looked to be a cool, fair morning, just the sort of fresh air he needed to sweep away the cobwebs. As he was turning to head down to the stables, however, a movement below in the garden made him pause.

  Near the stone wall, two people stood close together in conversation. A man and a woman. There seemed to be something furtive about their meeting. Then his gaze sharpened. Tessa? Yes, that had to be her. No other woman on his staff had that creamy blond hair or that dainty figure wrapped in a shawl.

  But who the devil was her companion? A footman? A groom?

  Abruptly, the man pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Tessa made no attempt to push him away. In fact, she appeared to have no objection at all to the close embrace.

  In an instant, Guy’s blood went from a simmer to a full boil. He strode across the bedroom, threw open the door with a bang, and plunged down the darkened staircase. His brain was so agitated that he couldn’t form a coherent thought.

  His bootheels echoed sharply in the marble corridor. Here, several sconces had been lit, and a maidservant toting a brush and bucket backed against the wall as he went rushing past her. At the rear of the house, he wrenched open the door and went out onto the loggia.

  The chilly air did little to mitigate his overheated senses. Tessa’s lover turned to peer at Guy as he stalked down the steps. The dim light revealed him to be a stranger in workman’s garb with a round, youthful face. Abruptly the fellow made a mad dash for the garden gate.

  Guy hastened his pace, his footsteps crunching on the graveled path. “You there, stop!”

  But the coward scuttled out into the mews and vanished. When Guy sprang after him, Tessa moved in front of the gate. “Please, Carlin, let him go. He means no harm.”

  Far from mollified, he swung toward her. “Who was that mawworm? Why did he come here?”

  “Orrin? He’s merely a friend. He … wanted to see if I was settled into my new post.”

  She had to be lying. There was tension in the fingers that gripped her shawl. The pearly light barely illuminated the pale oval of her face, but it was enough for him to see that her lips looked reddened and slightly swollen.

  “How do you know him? You told me you were new to London.”

  “I’ve made some acquaintances,” she said, lifting her chin. “While I was seeking employment, I lived in a boardinghouse. Orrin Nesbitt was a resident there and we became friends.”

  “Friends—or lovers?” Realizing he was on the verge of shouting, Guy bit off his words. Just yesterday evening she’d rejected his offer of friendship and not ten hours later, she’d slipped downstairs at dawn to meet another man. It was like getting a kick in the shins. “You were kissing him, Tessa. I saw you from my bedroom window.”

  She recoiled, glaring at him. “Orrin is not my lover. And I don’t appreciate you spying on me.”

  “Well, I don’t appreciate my daughter’s governess creeping out of the house to rendezvous with strange men in my garden.”

  “I already explained, Orrin isn’t a stranger. And … oh, never mind. Pray forgive me if I caused any trouble. If you’ll excuse me.”

  Guy remained planted as solid as an oak. Something wasn’t right, and he intended to get answers. “Your duty is to stay in the nursery with Sophy. I hope you realize that what you’ve done is grounds for dismissal.”

  She drew in a sharp breath. “Lady Sophy is asleep at this hour. I would never neglect her. You know that I wouldn’t.”

  The devil of it was, he believed her in that. No other governess had ever displayed such devotion to his daughter. As perturbed as he was, Guy didn’t truly want to dismiss her. “If you wish to keep your post, there will be no more secret trysts with Orrin Nesbitt—or any other man. Is that clear?”

  Tessa visibly stiffened. “Perfectly, Your Grace. And let me reassure you, I don’t have a harem of men at my beck and call.”

  With that, she stepped into the flower bed to get past him before returning to the path and marching toward the house. Guy found himself in the unaccustomed position of taking up the rear instead of leading the way. Eyeing the sway of her hips, he didn’t know whether to snap at her or to admire her gall.

  Upon reaching the loggia, he automatically reached for her upper arm and felt stung by a spark of heat. There it was again, that sizzling contact he experienced only with Tessa. As she glanced up at him, her eyes aglow in the shadows, he detected a quiver of awareness in her, as well. He had to restrain the powerful impulse to kiss her, to brand her as his and make her forget all other men. Especially one in particular.

  “What does he do for a living?”

  She blinked. “Who?”

  “This Nesbitt fellow.”

  “He’s a typesetter. Though I don’t see why it should matter to you.”

  Guy opened the door to let Tessa precede him into the house. It was a leveling notion to discover that she preferred a common workman to him. Yet it was odd, too. No genteel lady would kiss a man of the lower orders—especially not with such passionate gusto.

  “Of course it matters,” he said tersely. “You’re my daughter’s governess. If this man is your beau, I should know something of his character. It also makes me wonder, did you enter my employ under false pretenses?”

  She stopped dead in the corridor. In the flickering light of a sconce, her fine features wore a startled, almost guilty expression. “Why do you ask?”

  “Don’t dissemble, Tessa. Are you or are you not planning to marry him?”

  “Oh!” she said on breathy note. “You mean Orrin.”

  “Who else would I have meant?” He shook his head, irked that they seemed to be talking in circles. “If you were already affianced when you accepted a position in my house, then you’ve done a grave disservice to Sophy. She’s grown fond of you and she’ll be distraught when you leave here.”

  “I wasn’t. Engaged,
I mean.”

  “And what about now? That kiss appeared entirely too fervent for mere friends. I deserve to be told if you’re intending to turn in your notice soon.”

  Tessa parted her lips and stared at him, her fingers twisting the fringe of her shawl. The blue of her eyes held a peculiar haunted quality. “I…”

  Her gaze shifted to peer past him. Only then did he hear the hurried approach of footsteps along the corridor. Guy turned to see Banfield striding toward them. The secretary exuded an unusually agitated air as he made a quick bow.

  His gray eyes flicked to Tessa, in particular to Guy’s hand on her arm. “Your Grace, if I might have a word in private.”

  It was unlike Banfield to neglect to say good morning. Something was clearly disturbing the man. But Guy had no intention of letting Tessa off the hook until he had satisfactory answers to her puzzling behavior.

  “Wait for me in my study,” he told the secretary. “I’ll be there shortly.”

  “I’m afraid this is too urgent a matter for any delay,” Banfield said grimly. “You see, a thief broke in during the night and ransacked your study.”

  Chapter 11

  Heading down the marble corridor, Tessa half ran to keep up with the long strides of the men. Carlin’s already taut features had turned even harsher at the news. A thief! She would have been hot on his heels even without his hand on her arm, towing her along at his side. What could have been stolen?

  The only bright spot, she reflected guiltily, was that the robbery had distracted him from that disaster in the garden. She ought never to have gone out to meet Orrin. It had been a mistake from start to finish. And now the duke rightfully suspected that she was up to something.

  Lud, what would he say if he learned that she’d come to Carlin House under false pretenses? That she had planned all along to leave his employ once she’d identified her father? Her mind had gone blank at his accusation of duplicity, and she hadn’t been able to come up with a ready excuse. She felt miserable even to imagine how he’d despise her if he knew the truth. It was becoming harder and harder to continue the deception. And to complicate matters, he’d forced her to face another uncomfortable fact.

  You’ve done a grave disservice to Sophy. She’s grown fond of you and she’ll be distraught when you leave here.

  In the beginning, Tessa hadn’t imagined her departure would be any different from that of all the other governesses who had come and gone. Yet now that she knew Sophy better, had learned the cause of her bad behavior, and had seen a steady improvement in her, the situation had been radically altered. She had come to care for the motherless girl who had been raised to believe her father hated her.

  Tessa’s heart felt steeped in a brew of worry and regret. What would happen if—when—she left Carlin House? Would the next governess even attempt to repair the broken relationship between the duke and his daughter? There was no guarantee, and that made it more difficult for Tessa to envisage herself leaving. Yet if she stayed, it would mean postponing her millinery shop, possibly for years.

  She bolstered her spirits with the reminder that nothing was settled. Everything depended on how quickly she could identify the coat of arms, if her truant father would grant her a loan, and if he were even still alive. He could be dead and buried for all she knew. There were enough variables for her to postpone fretting about the matter for now.

  If only she could hold her warm feelings for Carlin at bay as well.

  His face grim, the duke ushered her into the shadowed study. A single candle on a table provided the only illumination, but it was enough to reveal a shocking sight. A blizzard of papers covered the carpet. Every drawer in the desk hung open. Books had been tossed down from the shelves, Carlin’s framed paintings scattered. The place looked like the nursery after the time when Sophy had gone on a rampage and emptied out all the toy cabinets.

  Looking around, Carlin plunged his fingers through his hair, rumpling the black strands. “Good God! Who could have done this? And when?”

  Mr. Banfield shook his head, then picked up the candle to light the tapers in a candelabrum. “I arose early to write out some letters that needed your signature,” he said somberly. “Otherwise, the burglary might have gone unnoticed for another hour or two.”

  “Have you determined what’s missing?”

  “No, Your Grace. The moment I saw this, I could think only of catching you in the stables before you departed on your ride.”

  For the first time, Tessa noticed that Carlin was handsomely attired in a dark green coat, tan breeches, and shiny black boots. So that was why he’d been up at the crack of dawn. But he hadn’t been in the stables, and the disapproving glance that Mr. Banfield aimed her way made Tessa feel uncomfortable. Really, he ought to be happy that she’d delayed the duke.

  “There’s no telling if anything has been stolen until this mess can be tidied,” Carlin said curtly.

  “At least the safe doesn’t appear to have been tampered with,” the secretary noted as he moved a landscape painting aside to reveal a hidden steel door in the wall. “That means no cash or jewels were taken.”

  “Well, that’s something.”

  While the men talked, Tessa stepped to the windows and opened the draperies, fastening the gold tasseled cord to the wall hooks. Although it was still dark outside, the sun was coming up and daylight would soon make the candles unnecessary. When she returned, the duke was barking out orders.

  “Send Roebuck in here at once. And Peabody, as well. Then interview the staff. Find out if anyone noticed anything unusual.”

  “As you wish.” Banfield cast a sidelong glance at Tessa. “But if you’ll first allow me a word, Your Grace.”

  Frowning, Carlin accompanied the secretary out into the corridor. Tessa suspected the starchy fellow wanted privacy to urge the duke to banish her to the nursery, but when Carlin returned alone a minute or two later, he did no such thing.

  Since he seemed willing to tolerate her presence, she picked up some books and replaced them on the shelves. The duke began to collect the papers that were scattered near the open trunk. How odd that this had happened on the very night after he’d given his lecture, she mused. But she didn’t want to interrupt him with chatter when he appeared engrossed in the task of putting his research documents back in order.

  They worked in silence, though once she intercepted a cool stare from him before he turned away again without a word. That look was a stark reminder that he had not forgotten their quarrel.

  She ought to be thinking up a way to placate him, but her mind kept dwelling on the robber. Why would someone break into a duke’s house yet make no effort to crack the safe? Had he been interrupted while committing the crime? Or had he been seeking something other than jewels? That would suggest he was no ordinary picklock from the stews of Seven Dials.

  Just then, Roebuck entered the study. The butler had a mane of silver hair and a stately aura that put Tessa in awe of him. This morning, however, his normally impassive face held dismay as he assured the duke that all the doors and windows had been locked as usual. He’d seen to the matter himself once the guests had departed after the lecture.

  A similar assurance came from Peabody, the burly ex-soldier who patrolled the grounds at night. The only thing of interest Tessa discovered was that Peabody always went down to the kitchen for breakfast at six, which explained how Orrin had evaded the man’s meaty clutches.

  The butler took an order for coffee from the duke and departed along with the guard. Left alone with Carlin, Tessa ventured to comment, “I don’t wish to gainsay Roebuck, but what he told you isn’t entirely true. When I went out to the garden this morning, the back door was unlocked.”

  The duke’s eyes narrowed on her. He made no reply, nor did he return to sorting his papers. Bathed in the first rays of dawn, with his hands on his hips, Carlin resembled an avenging angel. Her heart began to pound. She had never witnessed such a look of cold contempt directed at her.

  Lud, she mus
t have underestimated the depths of his displeasure. Or perhaps his frustration over the burglary had amplified it.

  Retreat seeming the wisest action, she curtsied. “Lady Sophy will be waking up soon, Your Grace. I had best return to the nursery.”

  “No.” The word was punctuated by the click of the latch as he turned to close the study door. “Sit down, Miss James.”

  That formal address increased her uneasiness. Her nerves frayed, she sank into the massive carved chair that she’d used during her first interview, the one that made her feel like a doll sitting on a throne. She was forced to tilt her head back to regard Carlin, who remained on his feet.

  “I’ve already explained about Orrin,” she said in a conciliatory tone. “I am not engaged to marry him. I’m very sorry for disobeying the rules and it won’t happen again. There is really nothing more I can say.”

  “I have quite a lot to say. In particular about the burglary.”

  “Oh.” She let herself relax a little. So this wasn’t about her taking the governess post under false pretenses, after all. Maybe he just wanted to discuss what had happened. “Have you determined yet if anything is missing?”

  “All of my diaries,” he said in a clipped tone. “I placed them in the trunk yesterday evening. But now they’re gone.”

  Aghast, she stared up at him. “That’s dreadful! Your lovely drawings and your notes … they must be irreplaceable. But why would someone take them?”

  “I believe the thief was seeking that pirate’s map. It could be worth a small fortune in gold.”

  “Oh. Then perhaps the culprit was someone who heard about it at your lecture.”