When a Duke Loves a Governess

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When a Duke Loves a Governess Page 16

by Olivia Drake


  Tessa’s eyes shone. “There you go, Carlin. You have some likely suspects to investigate. One of them had to have stolen your diaries.”

  For a bare moment, it crossed Guy’s mind to wonder if Tessa wanted to make the men look guilty in order to avert suspicion from herself. Then he quashed the notion. Despite her lies, she was no criminal. Nor was she Annabelle, attempting to twist him to do her bidding. If truth be told, Tessa was the opposite in every way of that pampered beauty.

  “Well,” Guy said crisply, “I had best make haste before the scoundrel realizes the map isn’t in the notebooks and destroys them.”

  He placed his hand at the small of Tessa’s back to guide her out of the study. As always, the burn of desire afflicted him, but he firmly doused it. He had to keep his base cravings in check. Any feelings he harbored for her must not be allowed to flourish for more reasons than he could name.

  As they went through the doorway and into the passage, an unexpected sight greeted them. Sophy was running toward them, a white flannel nightdress flapping around her small bare feet. Her childish voice echoed in the marble corridor. “Miss James, Miss James!”

  Winnie was hot on her heels. Panting, she bobbed a nervous curtsy. “Sorry, Yer Grace, milady escaped.”

  Sophy hurled herself forward and wrapped her arms around Tessa’s waist. A tragic look made her lips wobble. “When I woke up, you were gone. I thought you went away like Moo-Moo.”

  Tessa leaned down to return the hug. “I was merely speaking with your papa for a few minutes. Will you give him a good-morning kiss?”

  Sophy aimed a suddenly shy look up at him. “Morning, Papa.”

  But she didn’t venture forward, and Tessa threw a glance over her shoulder at him, her lips curved in an apologetic smile. He knew it was too soon to expect kisses from his daughter, yet his chest felt curiously tight as he stepped forward to stroke her soft cheek. “Good morning, monkey.”

  Her eyes rounded. “I’m not a monkey!”

  “Oh? Scurrying down the passage just now, you looked just like one that I once saw swinging through the jungle.”

  A burble of mirth escaped her. “Did you hear that, Miss James? I’m a monkey.”

  “Lady Monkey, we’ll call you,” Tessa said. “But even monkeys need to eat breakfast. Come along.”

  A half smile on his face, Guy watched them troop toward the staircase. Sophy was holding Tessa’s hand and skipping along like any happy little girl. That was Tessa’s doing, and he breathed a prayer of gratitude that she had succeeded where the other governesses had failed. For that reason alone, he must exert control over his passions.

  Besides, he didn’t need any distractions just now. His plans for the future had been struck a serious blow by the theft of those diaries. He could attempt to reconstruct them, but that would take months and he likely would forget vital details. If ever he hoped to write a book about his voyage, he must track down the villain at once.

  Chapter 12

  Tessa kept busy for the next few hours helping Sophy practice her alphabet on a slate, teaching her simple sums by moving buttons around on a felt board, and correcting her table manners during the noon meal. Afterward, they had story time, with the little girl reclining on the rug while Tessa read to her from one of the many books on the nursery shelves.

  It was their favorite activity, and one that Tessa usually relished, but today she was preoccupied by that encounter with Carlin. She lost her place several times and had to be prompted by an indignant Sophy. At last, though, the girl began to yawn and went willingly with Lolly to lie down for a nap. Determined to put the hour of freedom to good use, Tessa left the nursery on a mission.

  She tracked down Avis Knightley, who was working on a basket of sewing in an antechamber on the first floor. Across the corridor, in the Blue Drawing Room, Lady Victor was entertaining a circle of ladies. From afar, their voices sounded like the squawking of crows.

  Avis smiled and let the lace chemise she was mending fall to her lap. “Tessa, how lovely to see you. Do keep me company while I wait for her ladyship. There’s been a deluge of visitors today who want to hear all about the lecture last evening.”

  Settling onto a gilt chair, Tessa thought it ill mannered of Lady Victor to exclude her companion from the gathering. But perhaps that was the way of aristocratic households. “I wonder, is it really the lecture that’s drawn them here—or the robbery?”

  Avis’s face sobered. “Word does get around swiftly, doesn’t it? Everyone wants to learn the scandalous details, although I believe His Grace has put about that nothing of value was taken aside from some of his papers. And I’m dying to hear if it’s true that you were present in his study when the theft was discovered this morning.”

  Tessa detested being the subject of belowstairs gossip. Lud, did the other servants know that Carlin had charged her with the deed? Surely not, for he had made his accusations in private.

  “I happened to wake early and went out to walk in the garden,” she hedged. “I was returning inside when Mr. Banfield came running with the news. His Grace had been on his way out to the stables, and he asked me if I would mind helping him straighten up the mess.”

  The story sounded unconvincing even to her ears, and it elicited a curious look from Avis. She took a few stitches while musing, “I must say, it’s shocking to think of a criminal breaking into this house. As you can expect, Lady Victor was in a dither this morning when she heard the news. She’s certain we will all be murdered in our sleep.”

  “It didn’t seem to me to be a typical burglary, though. No money or jewels were taken, only some notebooks belonging to the duke. Please don’t mention this to anyone, but it’s possible the culprit was looking for the treasure map that was mentioned at the lecture.”

  Avis’s green eyes widened. “Ah, that would make sense. But how horrible! Does His Grace have any notion as to who it might have been?”

  “There were some two hundred guests, so it could have been any one of them, I suppose.” Trusting that Avis would presume the duke wouldn’t confide in a mere governess, Tessa sought a way to casually work the conversation around to her purpose. “I’m afraid I knew no one in attendance but the family. Did you know any of the people who were there?”

  “Having been with her ladyship for nearly five years, I recognized a number of them by sight. But I cannot speak for their character since I was never truly a member of the ton.”

  “I believe you do know one of them, though.” Tessa leaned forward to place her hand over Avis’s. “I don’t mean to pry, but I had the distinct impression that you were closely acquainted with Lord Haviland.”

  The woman’s fingers stilled on her mending. Her cheeks turned pink and distress clouded her eyes. “Oh, my. Was it so obvious?”

  “Never fear, I very much doubt that any of the guests noticed.” Tessa didn’t want to upset her further by mentioning that Carlin had come to the same conclusion, too. “Yet he knew you by name and I couldn’t help but notice the way you two looked at each other.”

  Sighing, Avis glanced out the window. “I daresay it would do no harm to tell you the story. It’s quite ancient history, really, having happened some ten years ago in Sussex, where my father was vicar of a small village church. It was just Papa and me, and I served as his housekeeper. One day I went out to the woods to pick blackberries to make jam when a storm blew up suddenly. There was so much thunder and lightning that I was frightened near to death. Then from out of nowhere, the handsomest man I’d ever seen came riding by and rescued me.”

  A soft smile curved her lips, and she seemed almost to have forgotten Tessa’s presence. “He swooped me up onto his horse and just as the rain came down in a torrent, we took shelter in a gamekeeper’s hut. William—Lord Haviland he is now—said he was visiting a friend on a neighboring estate. I’d never in my life met such a charming man. One thing led to another and … oh, you must not think matters went that far. But we proceeded to kiss each other most thoroughly … u
ntil I came to my senses and fled.”

  Having experienced passion in Carlin’s embrace, Tessa could fully understand. “He is very handsome. One can see why you were bowled over.”

  “I learned only later of his reputation as a rake. Oh, he apologized most fervently and even called a few times at the vicarage, but I refused to be beguiled by his banter.” Her lips firmed. “I think what angered me the most is that Lord Haviland seemed to take for granted that I would succumb to his charm. As if a vicar’s daughter ought to be grateful for the attention of an earl’s heir. I want nothing to do with such a brash man.”

  “He followed you last night. Did you ever speak with him?”

  Avis bit her lip and nodded. “He enticed me outside into the garden and then tried to cozen me that he’d changed and was no longer a rogue. But we quarreled and he went storming out through the gate.”

  So, Haviland had not returned to the house. Tessa filed away that bit of information. “He doesn’t sound indifferent to you,” she said.

  “I can’t imagine why he would bother with an old maid like me after so much time has passed … except perhaps he views me as a challenge. I’m the one woman who has managed to resist him.”

  Tessa studied her friend’s sparkling eyes, the flushed cheeks, and the glossy chestnut curls beneath her ruffled spinster’s cap. “It’s clear to me why he would bother. Have you looked into a mirror lately?”

  Her blush deepening, Avis busied herself with her sewing. “Oh, fiddle. Having achieved the grand old age of thirty, I am quite firmly on the shelf. Besides, Lord Haviland would never marry a penniless lady without any advantages of family connections.”

  Thirty didn’t seem so very old when love was involved. And Tessa had the suspicion that Avis still pined for him despite her protests to the contrary. Yet she was right, Lord Haviland wasn’t likely to rescue her from the drudgery of being Lady Victor’s paid companion. In that way, she and Avis were alike, for Carlin would also eventually wed a lady of high rank, one who would bring him a large dowry and enhance the family honor. It was a dismal thought.

  “I suppose it’s just as well,” Tessa said. “I can’t imagine it would be wise to marry a gambler. Do you know how deeply he is in debt?”

  “Lord Haviland claims to have turned over a new leaf since attaining the earldom last year, and that he no longer frequents gaming dens. He also said that he’s never forgotten me. But who knows if any of it is really true?” Avis paused, her fingers taut on her sewing and her face stricken. “You don’t suppose he could have stolen the map, do you? All that gold would be tempting to a man in dire straits. Or am I being too hard on him to suspect him of such a criminal deed?”

  Tessa hoped for her friend’s sake that he wasn’t guilty. “Only time will tell. We must wait for His Grace to uncover the truth.”

  * * *

  The following day, Tessa was bringing Sophy back inside after an outing in the garden when the sound of upraised voices carried along the marble corridor from the front of the house. She could not make out any words, but a lady was chastising someone in a haughty tone while a gentleman added his own blustering commentary.

  Sophy’s face lit up. “Gammy!”

  Yanking her hand out of Tessa’s, the little girl went racing down the passageway, forcing Tessa into hasty pursuit. Lud, there would be trouble if these were callers for Lady Victor. “Sophy, come back here at once.”

  Sophy either didn’t hear or chose to ignore the order. Tessa arrived at the grand entrance hall in time to see the little girl fling herself at the visitors, who had been railing at a hapless footman. They were an older couple, the well-padded woman clad in a stylish gown of bottle-green muslin and a matching felt hat adorned with a flat ostrich feather. The dapper man at her side had receding gray hair, a hazelnut-brown coat, and a gold-topped cane.

  “Gammy, Gammy, I missed you!”

  The lady batted Sophy away. “Let me first dispose of my wrap, child, before you smother me.” Only when the footman accepted her crimson pelisse did she grant her attention to the girl, holding her back by the shoulders. “Good heavens, your hands are filthy! Who has your papa tasked with taking care of you these days?”

  “Miss James,” Sophy piped up. “We’ve been making a house for fairies with twigs and leaves.”

  Tessa dipped a quick curtsy as she drew out a handkerchief to rub the dirt from Sophy’s little fingers. “I am Miss James. I must apologize, for Lady Sophy has just come in from playing in the garden.”

  The man held up a quizzing glass that magnified one blue eye as he looked Tessa up and down. “Romping in the flower beds, by Jove! I shall have a word with Carlin about this shocking lapse in the girl’s hygiene, not to mention the neglect of her education.”

  Tessa had a strong suspicion about the identity of these newcomers. It irked her to have to tolerate such criticism when it was their neglect that had turned their granddaughter into a spoiled imp. With cool politeness, she said, “And who may I ask are you, sir?”

  “We are Lord and Lady Norwood,” he said. “And we have come to see about the safety of our precious granddaughter.”

  Lady Norwood lifted a gloved hand to her generous bosom. “We returned from Brighton the very instant we read that terrifying account in the papers about what happened here. Oh, our dear baby girl might have been—”

  “Lady Sophy is in perfect health, as you can see,” Tessa cut in, not caring if she was rude. How could they be so foolish as to refer to the robbery in front of a four-year-old? Sophy was gazing up in curiosity, for the servants had been strictly warned not to frighten her with tales of burglars. “May I suggest that you discuss any matters of concern with His Grace in private.”

  “Carlin is out,” Lord Norwood said, his knob of a nose twitching as if the duke’s absence had been planned as a personal affront to his in-laws.

  “So inconvenient,” drawled his wife. “Well, we should like to visit with dear Sophy in the drawing room as we haven’t seen her in ages. I shall send for strawberry tarts. Those are your favorite, aren’t they, darling?”

  Sophy bounced up and down. “Jam tarts, jam tarts!”

  Tessa scarcely knew what to do. “But, milady, it will spoil her luncheon.”

  “Nonsense,” Lord Norwood huffed. “A little treat never hurt any child. Now where is that blasted footman?”

  The poker-faced servant in blue-and-gold livery came forward to lead the way up the staircase. Upon being shooed away again by her grandmother, Sophy slipped her hand into Tessa’s as they mounted the steps and went along a wide corridor to the magnificent gilded drawing room. All the while, the Norwoods kept up a critical commentary about the decor. Annabelle would have found that rug a bit threadbare. Or Annabelle would have changed those draperies to a paler blue to lighten up the room.

  “It is a dreadful misfortune that our daughter never had the chance to become duchess,” Lady Norwood said, picking up a china shepherdess from a table and turning it over to check the maker’s stamp on the bottom. She eyed the painting over the mantel as if to calculate its value before sinking onto a chaise and arranging her skirts. “Annabelle would have been the perfect mistress of so grand an establishment. She would have spruced up this house and turned it into a showpiece.”

  Tessa was so flabbergasted that anyone could find fault with the palatial mansion that she couldn’t formulate a reply. Not, of course, that the Norwoods would care about the opinion of a governess, anyway.

  “Ann-bell was my mama,” Sophy said proudly, tugging Tessa over to a chair. “She was the prettiest mama ever.”

  Sophy had never known the mother who had died shortly after her birth. Touched by the girl’s devotion, Tessa smiled. “Very pretty, indeed, I’m sure.”

  “Pretty?” Lord Norwood scoffed as he used his cane to lever himself into a chair. “Why, she was so beautiful, so charming, so utterly delightful that all the gentlemen called her the Angel.”

  Tessa’s mind instantly produced an image
of Carlin kneeling in adoration before his wife, a haloed beauty draped in a gauzy white gown. Annabelle the Angel. An ache assailed Tessa’s bosom. How could a man ever recover from losing the love of his life? No wonder he had gone away to wander the world for so many years. He must have needed time to overcome his grief.

  Lady Norwood’s voice pulled her back to the present. “Such a pity you don’t have your mother’s green eyes, Sophy. Like perfect emeralds, they were. But then, you take after your Papa’s side.”

  As the frowning girl stuck out her lower lip, Tessa said quickly, “I think Lady Sophy’s eyes are a lovely shade of topaz.”

  Lady Norwood’s mouth pursed, and she lifted her fingers in a dismissing wave. “Pray sit over by the door, Miss James, you oughtn’t be here with the family. And do not speak unless you are spoken to first.”

  Tessa had no choice but to do as she was told.

  From her new perch a short distance away, she fumed in silence to see how the Norwoods permitted Sophy to do as she pleased, whether it was knocking over the stack of unlit coals on the grate or grabbing several tarts from the tea tray that had been delivered. They scolded the girl halfheartedly, then immediately undermined the correction by indulging her pleas for more sweets. All the while, they had the nerve to flash accusatory looks at Tessa as if it were all her fault that a four-year-old couldn’t restrain her impulses.

  A number of hours had elapsed since breakfast, and Tessa’s stomach rumbled. She was offered nothing, even though there was an extra cup on the tea tray and plenty of pastries left. Despite their fine airs, the Norwoods had manners that struck Tessa as unconscionably rude. She could name a dozen friends and neighbors from the East End who were kinder and more cordial.

  Lord and Lady Norwood alternately pampered Sophy and ignored her. As they began gossiping about parties they’d attended in Brighton, the girl grew increasingly whiny. She tugged on her grandmother’s skirt. “I want to see Moo-Moo. Why didn’t you bring her, Gammy?”

 

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