When a Duke Loves a Governess Page 3

  “I’m afraid Miss Williston had to cry off. She … was called away to tend a sick relation. I’m sorry for the confusion.”

  “You were also to present yourself tomorrow.”

  “Oh? No one told me so, only that your need for a new governess is very urgent. I thought it best to come at once, Your Grace.”

  Giving her a quelling glance, he gestured toward Guy. “You may make your excuses to the duke, Miss James. I am Banfield, His Grace’s secretary.”

  Her swift intake of breath stopped just short of a gasp. In a rustle of skirts, she swung toward Guy. At once he understood that Banfield’s pursed lips had little to do with scheduling errors or mistaken identities. She had the smooth features of a young lady in her early twenties rather than the stern visage of the middle-aged spinster they both had been expecting.

  Miss James studied him with such arrested interest that he wondered if his cravat was askew. Her cheeks bore a blush of embarrassment, and the bewitching blue of her eyes matched the ribbons that were jauntily tied beneath her chin. A dainty dab of a woman, she radiated a subtle allure despite the concealment of that modest, high-necked gown.

  Guy yanked his mind back to the purpose of the meeting. Her feminine charms were irrelevant. This was an employment interview, not a ballroom flirtation. Miss James was utterly unlike the string of previous governesses—and that was not a point in her favor. She was far too green for the position.

  Frustration filled him. So much for hoping this applicant would be an improvement on all the others. Being not long out of the schoolroom herself, she couldn’t possibly have the expertise necessary to handle Sophy.

  “Forgive me, Your Grace.” She sank into another floor-dusting curtsy, this one to Guy before she arose and glanced at the secretary. “I beg your pardon, too, Mr. Banfield.”

  He flicked Guy a commiserating look that spoke volumes. It was clear that he, too, assessed her to be all wrong for the post.

  As the secretary departed the study, Guy wondered at her use of the term mister. Surely she knew that servants were not addressed in so formal a manner. Had she never worked in a large household? The likelihood of that fact further annoyed him.

  Blast it, he’d had enough of these mediocre candidates. This was the third employment agency he’d tried, and he was done with all of them. Henceforth, he’d advertise in the journals himself and let Banfield screen the applicants. As for Miss James, she could find work elsewhere.

  “I’m afraid you were sent here in error,” Guy said bluntly. “I requested someone older, someone with decades of experience as a governess.”

  She took a step closer. “Oh, but I do have the proper qualifications, sir. I’ve looked after young children for much of my life, and I’ve a particular knack for handling difficult cases. Please, won’t you at least hear me out?”

  Much of my life couldn’t mean more than half a dozen years, if that. Yet it was clear from her tense pose that she had a keen interest in this post. She stood before him with her slim shoulders squared and her gloved fingers clutched tightly around her reticule. Guy knew what it was like to face opposition, and he grudgingly conceded that it would be cruel to dash her hopes without even conducting an interview.

  “All right, then. I’ll grant you five minutes to make your case.”

  He strode behind the desk and waved Miss James toward the seat opposite him. As she sank onto it, the massive, carved chair served to emphasize the delicacy of her figure. Odd that her bonnet was much more stylish than one would expect from a governess. Its wide brim made a perfect frame for her creamy blond hair and youthful radiance.

  “I presume the agency described the situation to you, Miss James.”

  She nodded. “While you were traveling the world, your four-year-old daughter was spoiled by her grandparents. Since your return, no one has been able to curb Lady Sophy’s naughty behavior.”

  The frank description put Guy on the defensive. “Sophy is a spirited girl. What makes you think you’ll succeed where others have not?”

  “I’ve dealt with all sorts of unruly children. There’s always a way to bring them around. May I ask, exactly how did Lady Sophy drive away the other governesses?”

  Expecting the list of disgraceful incidents would put a dent into Miss James’s confidence, he ticked them off on his fingers. “The first governess objected to being scratched and kicked, the second suffered the shame of having her unmentionables tossed out the window onto the street, and the third had a hank of her hair sheared off while she slept. I dismissed the fourth when she allowed Sophy to run away during an outing to the park, and the fifth for administering laudanum to calm my daughter. Then this morning, Sophy bit the sixth.”

  “I see.” Rather than recoil in alarm, Miss James regarded him with a thoughtful frown. After a moment, she went on, “I suppose it must be very upsetting to a motherless little girl to have so many people come and go in her life. Especially when she’s so recently been separated from her grandparents. Was she very fond of them?”

  Guy clenched his teeth, remembering the disastrous scene when he’d gone to collect Sophy. She had stomped her feet and refused to leave with him. While Lord and Lady Norwood made excuses for her tantrum, Mooney had stood right there muttering darkly about fathers who abandoned their children. He’d been incensed to learn that his instructions to replace the surly old nursemaid had been disregarded. The Norwoods seemed oblivious to her incompetence and had peeled off Sophy’s clinging fingers in their haste to be gone to Brighton to attend a party at the Royal Pavilion.

  Instead of the happy reunion he’d envisioned, he’d been forced to subject his daughter to a stern lecture. The memory of her tearstained face stung like an unhealed blister. Worse was the loathing of him she’d exhibited, shrinking away when he’d only wanted to hold her hand to take her to his carriage.

  He said tersely, “Any child would be fond of those who allowed her to do as she pleased. That is why I need someone with many years of experience to teach her suitable behavior.”

  Miss James appeared unfazed by his reference to her youth. “It’s also important that she have a governess who’ll remain in your employ longer than a few days. Pray consider, she was taken from the only family she’s ever known, from a home where there were no rules, and thrust into one that is more regimented. A strong-willed child is bound to lash out. This new situation must seem very strange and frightening to her.”

  “Rather, it is the governesses who are frightened.”

  “But I shan’t be. There’s nothing your daughter can do to scare me away. I would very much like the chance to prove that to you, Your Grace.”

  Guy cocked a dark brow. He couldn’t decide if her aplomb arose out of naïveté or true skill. One thing was certain, this interview wasn’t proceeding the way he’d anticipated. The other governesses had been deferential, proper, old. They had not offered their opinions so freely or regarded him with such bold resolve.

  Of course, they hadn’t shown any inclination to understand Sophy’s perspective. He was chagrined to admit he hadn’t, either. Was there just a frightened little girl hidden behind her malicious outbursts?

  He was intrigued enough to lean forward, folding his forearms on the desk. “Tell me about your background, Miss James. What exactly are your credentials?”

  The thick fringe of her lashes did several slow blinks. “I grew up in … a big family with lots of children. From an early age, I had the task of managing the younger ones, making sure they were tidy and well behaved. A few were wayward, inclined toward mischief like Lady Sophy, but I devised ways to steer them toward good conduct.”

  “Ways?”

  “Every child is unique, so the methods vary. Before deciding on a plan, I would first have to meet your daughter and assess her character.”

  He couldn’t shake a sense of skepticism. “That sounds all fine and good, Miss James, but to be frank I still find your age to be an impediment. You can’t possibly know how to handle Sophy be
tter than someone who is older and wiser.”

  “Oh, but youth can be an advantage. I understand little girls far better than an ancient spinster who’s set in her ways. Many a time, I’ve dealt with willful children who needed a firm hand.”

  He narrowed his gaze. “So you intend to thrash Sophy into obedience.”

  The ribbons on her hat swayed as Miss James shook her head. “Oh, no, that isn’t at all what I meant. It’s far better to treat a child with kindness than with cruelty. I do hope you don’t expect me to thrash her.”

  Judging her distaste to be authentic, Guy relaxed. “Certainly not. I’ll tolerate no violence against my daughter. But how, then, would you make her behave?”

  “It’s a matter of inspiring her to conduct herself properly. So that she will take pride in doing what is right. It will require patience and hard work, but you’ll soon see excellent results.”

  If Miss James could really achieve such a lofty goal, he’d hire her in a heartbeat. Yet all she’d offered thus far were glib promises. “So you came from a large family,” he reiterated. “What then? You must have left home to become a governess.”

  “Of course,” she said on a modest little laugh. “For the past several years, I’ve taught two girls in a genteel family, the Blanchets, in Northumberland. Sukie and Nell were quite a handful, but I soon had them on the straight and narrow. When they reached an age to attend a ladies’ academy and no longer needed my services, I traveled to London. I much prefer the city, you see.”

  “Blanchet is a French name. Were they émigrés?”

  “What? No! Mr. Blanchet is … is a country squire. Why, I never even thought of him as being French. He’s as English as codfish.”

  “You needn’t look alarmed, Miss James, I’m not accusing you of consorting with spies or traitors. The war is over, Napoleon’s been defeated. Now, I presume Mr. Blanchet has written a letter of recommendation for you.”

  She blinked twice at him before casting her gaze downward to search through her reticule. After a moment, she uttered a breathy gasp and lifted a gloved hand to her cheek. “Oh! How foolish of me, I must have left it at the agency. Allow me to assure you, milord, everything is in perfect order.”

  Resisting the allure of those big blue eyes, Guy had an inkling that she was embellishing her qualifications. Perhaps the recommendation offered a less stellar picture of her than she’d painted for herself. Northumberland was distant enough to make checking her story difficult. The last thing Sophy needed was yet another inept governess.

  He rose to his feet. “This is most unfortunate. I’m afraid it’s impossible for me to hire you without references.”

  “Wait, please! I’ll send a note to the agency. The letter will be in their files, I’m sure. It’s too late in the day, but first thing tomorrow morning, I can contact them … Oh! What is that?”

  Having glanced away during her monologue, Miss James arose from the chair and glided across the study. She stopped before a framed watercolor on the wall. It depicted a tribal headdress consisting of a beaded circlet topped by tall parrot feathers in rainbow hues.

  She cast a glance over her shoulder. “Pardon me, Your Grace, but this hat caught my eye. May I ask, is it something you saw on your travels?”

  Guy saw no reason not to join her. Though suspiciously timed, the bright-eyed interest on her face appeared genuine. “It’s a headdress worn by the people of Brazil.”

  “The feathers are very striking,” she marveled. “I’ve never seen anything quite like them. Are such hats common among the women there?”

  “Actually, this would be worn by a man. It’s part of a chieftain’s ceremonial garb for special celebrations.”

  “I see. Did you attend such ceremonies, then?”

  “No, the purpose of my expedition was to study botany in the coastal regions of the world. Which is why most of the drawings here are of plants.”

  He swept his hand toward several other framed paintings on the wall, and she moved closer to examine them. “Lud, they’re beautiful. These are all your work?”

  “Yes. Sketching helped to pass the time on the long sea voyage.”

  “Well, they are fine enough to be put in an exhibition. Perhaps they could be displayed at Somerset House. Isn’t that where the toffs go to view famous paintings?”

  The sparkle of admiration in her gaze gratified him. Despite noticing a trace of common dialect in her speech, he found one corner of his mouth curling up in a smile. “I hardly think my paltry efforts belong with such masters as Turner and Lawrence.”

  “Then perhaps you should give a lecture here at your house. If you haven’t already, I mean. You could talk about your travels. Surely the swells would find your adventures abroad to be fascinating. I know I would.”

  Guy had been inundated with invitations by scholars and academics to speak to their various organizations. He welcomed the chance to share his knowledge with those who truly appreciated it. Society was another matter. He was viewed as a curiosity, the duke who had spurned polite company in order to travel around the globe.

  Yet maybe Miss James was right, and he ought to reconsider.

  She went back to gaze again at the painting of the headdress. “The colors of the feathers are so brilliant,” she murmured, “especially the blues and yellows. Do you know what sort of dye was used on them?”

  “None at all. They’re parrot feathers. In the tropics, parrots are as common as wrens and crows are here in England. In fact, I brought a few birds back with me. They make their home in the conservatory.”

  “Conservatory?”

  “It’s a large, glass-enclosed room with an indoor garden.”

  Guy firmed his lips to stop an enthusiastic narrative about the orchids, bananas, and other tropical plants he’d imported to see if they could be coaxed to grow in England’s chillier climate. What had gotten into him that he would ramble on about his interests to a prospective employee? Especially a woman he scarcely knew and who might very well be inflating her employment experience. The fact that she’d never heard of a conservatory only confirmed her unfamiliarity with aristocratic households.

  “Enough of these distractions,” he said, cooling his tone. “We were speaking of your lack of credentials.”

  “Please, Your Grace, what harm can there be in allowing me a trial period?” Stepping closer, Miss James tilted up her chin to gaze earnestly into his face. “If Lady Sophy doesn’t show an improvement, then you’ll be justified in dismissing me. Won’t you at least give me a chance?”

  Guy knew better than to trust a dewy-eyed look designed to charm. Yet Miss James wasn’t a flirtatious deb hoping to win the coronet of a duchess. Despite her woeful lack of references and the occasional trace of the common vernacular, she was just a woman who needed a job.

  And he was a man caught in the thorns of desperation.

  Whenever he visited Sophy in the nursery, her sulky petulance formed a wall between them. How had he ever thought his daughter would welcome him home with hugs and kisses after he’d abandoned her? She regarded him as a stranger because he was a stranger. And he hadn’t the slightest notion how to fix matters. Perhaps a fresh approach might work where other governesses had failed. If there was even a chance that Miss James could help, he’d be a fool to turn her away.

  “All right, then, provided you can show me that letter, I’ll grant you one week.” Guy paused before adding grimly, “If you can last that long.”

  Chapter 3

  Giddy with success, Tessa followed the Duke of Carlin up the broad steps of the grand staircase. She had done it. She had convinced him to hire her. A jubilant smile tugged at her lips. With seven days in which to prove her worth, she fully intended to succeed where others had failed.

  Their footsteps echoed in the vastness of the entrance hall. It was lucky the duke didn’t seem inclined toward conversation since she was busy gawking at her new home. Carlin House resembled her vision of a royal palace with its creamy marble pillars, life-siz
ed portraits of his ancestors, and a massive crystal chandelier that sparkled like diamonds in the slanting rays of the late-afternoon sun. The footmen on duty were outfitted in the same elegant gold and blue as the decor. Even the balustrade and woodwork were lavishly encrusted in gilt.

  Did her father own such a magnificent home, too?

  The question was a sobering reminder of her reason for seeking the position of governess. Her maidservant mother had borne a child by a lord, the man whose crest was engraved on her pendant. He surely lived here in Mayfair with all the other swells. For all Tessa knew, he could be just around the corner.

  Or he could be long dead.

  The only way to find out was to proceed with her plan to look for his coat of arms while she took Lady Sophy on strolls around the neighborhood. Meanwhile, it was vital that no one guess her secret—especially the Duke of Carlin.

  As he led her along an ornate corridor and up another staircase, she studied him from behind. Carlin had a commanding presence, to be sure, but not quite in the way she’d expected. Although smartly garbed in a rifle-green coat and buff breeches, he had longish black hair that needed barbering, skin that was tanned by the sun, and a muscular build more suited to a laborer.

  The older gent, Mr. Banfield, had more closely matched her notion of a snobbish, aristocratic duke, which had led to that mortifying mistake. Tessa thanked heaven she hadn’t been tossed out right then and there.

  While embroidering her past, she’d deemed it wise to stick as close to the truth as possible, inventing a childhood with lots of brothers and sisters since the other orphans had been like her family. One of her assigned tasks at the foundling home really had been to oversee the younger ones at their work so they wouldn’t be whipped as she herself had once been.

  She’d blundered, though, in not having a letter of recommendation.

  Tonight, when everyone was asleep, she’d have to nick a piece of paper and a pen in order to forge the letter. Had she known the importance of it, she’d have written one and brought it to the interview. But she knew so little about the ways of the nobs that it was like walking blindfolded through the crooked alleys of Seven Dials.