A Governess for the Brooding Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  “Well, it has been a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Wells,” Georgette said with a tight smile and little feeling. “If you will excuse me, Mrs Griffin tells me it is time to meet the Duke.”

  “Of course,” the nurse said, the displeasure on her face telling Georgette most distinctly that the whole thing was not over.

  Chapter 7

  Georgette was surprised to discover that the Duke’s study was on the very same corridor as the schoolroom, just a few doors away. The housekeeper had chosen to speak not one word throughout their short walk and, when they came to a halt outside the door to the study, Mrs Griffin simply folded her arms across her chest and stared at the door frame.

  “Are we not going inside?” Georgette said, becoming somewhat exasperated with the older woman’s childish behaviour.

  “It is not yet ten o’clock. It is only ten minutes to the hour.”

  “Then why did we leave the schoolroom?” Georgette said, not entirely confrontational, but neither was she in the mood to placate the woman.

  “Because His Grace insists upon punctuality,” she said and looked away from her again to resume her study of the door frame.

  Georgette decided to refrain from telling the woman that they were not punctual, they were simply early. She could not help thinking that for them to simply stand uselessly outside the Duke’s study door for the next ten minutes seemed entirely pointless. However, Georgette rather wondered if she had not pushed the woman quite far enough for one day and, in the end, kept her thoughts to herself.

  When they had stood awkwardly for more than five minutes, the door to the Duke’s study suddenly flew open, and a well-dressed and rather thin man of middle age walked out. He held his head so very high and stood so very straight-backed that Georgette was curiously reminded of Mr Pearson, the butler. However, his clothes were quite different altogether, more or less those of a gentleman. For a moment, she wondered if it were the Duke himself. However, he simply looked her up and down, vaguely nodded at the housekeeper, and strode away.

  Georgette looked at Mrs Griffin and raised her eyebrows in silent question.

  “Mr Edward Camden,” Mrs Griffin said when Georgette continued to stare at her, determined for an answer. “The Duke’s steward.”

  “Oh,” Georgette said airily and wondered if there was a single person, besides Daisy, in all of Draycott Hall who had five minutes’ worth of manners within them.

  After all, if his staff were anything to go by, the Duke himself must be simply dreadful.

  As they continued to stand there, Georgette rather thought that Mrs Griffin was suddenly a little nervous. She seemed to be leaning forward a little as if straining to hear, and Georgette wondered quite why it was that she did not merely knock on the door.

  When she heard the chiming of a clock drifting out in a rather muffled way through the heavy wooden door, Georgette was entirely surprised to see the housekeeper suddenly straighten up and reach out to knock the door. For heaven’s sake, did that not take punctuality just a little beyond ordinary expectation?

  “Enter,” came a rather deep voice from within and, once again, Georgette was reminded of the pompous butler. Quite clearly, the dreadful man had modeled himself on an amalgam of his betters.

  “Your Grace,” Mrs Griffin said in simpering tones as she took two steps into the study and curtsied.

  Georgette simply followed her in and mutely curtsied in the same fashion. “I have brought the new governess to see you,” Mrs Griffin said, and Georgette almost winced to hear how she was going to be introduced. After all, did she not have a name?

  “Yes, of course,” the Duke said, looking up as if he had quite forgotten the whole thing and now found himself running short of time and greatly exasperated by their sudden appearance. “You may leave us, Mrs Griffin,” he said, without even looking at the woman.

  Georgette watched out of the corner of her eye with some amusement as Mrs Griffin curtsied rather deeply once again and seemed to leave the room backward, almost as if the Duke of Draycott were, in fact, the King, and she dare not turn her back on him.

  “Well, yes …” The Duke said, squinting at her and suddenly somewhat displeased. “Miss …” He seemed entirely wrong-footed by her appearance.

  “Miss Darrington, Your Grace,” Georgette supplied helpfully.

  “Oh yes, of course,” he said in an offhand manner which rather suggested that her name was neither here nor there, for he did not need or intend to commit it to memory. “And you arrived yesterday, did you not?” he said as if he was giving himself a moment or two to think.

  “Indeed, I did, Your Grace. I arrived yesterday afternoon,” Georgette said and found his habit of not specifically looking at her as he spoke somewhat annoying. However, he was a Duke, and he could likely do just as he pleased.

  As the Duke made some little performance of shuffling papers on his desk, Georgette made a quick study of the room. In truth, the study itself was not very much larger than the one that her father had maintained back in their Mayfair townhouse. But perhaps a study, unlike a drawing room, did not need to be proportionate to the size of the house. After all, it was the room of just one person with very few guests, saving attorneys and stewards and other such similar people, expected to attend it.

  Had the room not been quite so filled with cabinets and dark shelves and a great number of ledgers and such the like, it might well have appeared as light and bright as the schoolroom. It had been painted in a very similar way although, whereas the schoolroom was a pale lemon, the Duke’s study was an extremely pale blue, rather like the sky in winter. It rather struck her as a curious colour for the Duke to have in his study, for most studies she had been in were really rather masculine affairs, with dark paintwork and heavy drapery, giving the whole thing the appearance of a cave or a large box.

  However, the careful paintwork had done much to spare the room such a fate and the two immense windows did much to stop the dark woodwork and cluttered shelves from drawing the light from their surroundings.

  The desk which the Duke sat behind was an extraordinarily heavy looking affair made of dark oak, and the papers upon it seemed to be in a measure of disarray. Georgette, being rather an orderly sort of woman herself, could not help letting her eyes settle upon the little mess.

  “You come to me without references, Miss Darrington,” the Duke said so suddenly that Georgette looked sharply up from her study of his desk.

  “That is correct, Your Grace. I have no references.”

  “You have never worked as a governess before?”

  “I have never worked as anything before, Your Grace.”

  “But you have decided to become a governess?”

  “I had no choice in the matter, Your Grace, but I have an extensive education and am confident that I can teach the children their essential learning and a number of accomplishments.”

  “Indeed,” he said, giving no hint whatsoever with his tone whether he was pleased or displeased.

  When he remained silent, Georgette decided to do the same. She was feeling suddenly rather nervous and could not help remembering Mr Shelford Winstanley’s description of the Duke as intimidating. Even in silence, she thought he was quite that.

  Georgette dared to take another peek at the man and realized that he was not looking at her at all. Rather, he was looking down at the paperwork on his desk once more, sitting quietly and almost immobile, and she wondered if he were about to dismiss her from the room.

  However, she took the opportunity to study him a little more closely and could see that Hamilton Whitehall was a good deal older than she was herself. He was, she thought, perhaps four and thirty years, if not a little more. Nonetheless, he looked really rather well for his age, with broad shoulders and an upright sort of bearing. Despite the fact he was still sitting behind his desk, Georgette rather thought that he would, when standing, be something of a very tall man.

  His tailcoat and waistcoat, all that she could see of his apparel fro
m behind the desk, were in a matching shade of dark blue, almost identical to that of her own gown. His shirt was immaculately white and its necktie curiously plain, although smart.

  The Duke had rather a thick head of hair in a very light brown which tended to blond at the temples. Georgette wondered if it was the sort of hair which became fairer the brighter the sun shone. His eyes were bright, rather a piercing sort of a blue and, when he did deign to look at her and even hold her gaze, they made her feel a little uneasy.

  His face had rather strong features, and a mouth that would likely be pleasingly generous if he did but smile. His skin was a little tanned and had a certain roughness which suggested that he could not last more than a day without shaving and still maintain a certain neatness to his appearance.

  “I presume that you are aware that the children have had no less than three governesses in quick succession in the last six months?” Again, he spoke suddenly.

  “Yes, Mr Winstanley at the employment registry made me very aware of the fact.”

  “Does that not concern you at all?”

  “In truth, it does concern me a little, Your Grace, but not enough that I would turn the position down.”

  “Indeed,” he said and looked at her rather blankly.

  In truth, Georgette was well aware that the Duke was likely deducing that she had found herself in very sudden low circumstances, and he seemed to be regarding her in a most searching fashion. When he had looked at her for almost a full minute, Georgette could not help thinking that he was really rather looking down upon her.

  Of course, as a Duke, he might well have looked down upon her before she had been reduced to poverty. And, of course, he might not be looking down upon her at all. It struck her that he was really rather a difficult man to read, and she found herself feeling most decidedly uncomfortable in his company and wished that their meeting would soon draw to its conclusion.

  “Miss Darrington, I do not wish to hear tales of the servants or anything concerning the children. They are to be brought up well with good manners and a good education. Beyond that, I do not wish to be bothered with the day-to-day running of their lives, is that understood?” Suddenly, his piercingly bright blue eyes were fixed on her own, and Georgette wondered if she would be able to get a word out. She felt herself suddenly struck mute and yet knew that she must say something.

  “That is understood, Your Grace,” she said simply, wondering why on earth it was that he had no interest in the day-to-day lives of two adorable little girls.

  “I will meet with you here once a week so that you may make a report of your progress to me regarding the educational advancement of the children. There will be no need for you to bring the children with you, obviously.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” she said, rather thinking that he had something of an aversion to Eleri and Ffion.

  “The children’s nurse will have them delivered to you at half past nine every morning in the schoolroom. They will already be washed, dressed, and breakfasted. In essence, they shall be ready for their lessons immediately.” He stared at her again, and Georgette fought an urge to run from the room.

  “Yes, Your Grace,” she said, rather willing the whole thing to be at an end.

  “You will keep the children throughout the day, including luncheon, which shall be brought to the schoolroom for the three of you and which you will supervise without the aid of the nurse.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “The nurse will, of course, relieve you of the children’s care at half-past three in the afternoon. From then onwards, you are free to do as you please unless, of course, there is some social engagement to which the children need to attend outside of those hours. In just such a situation you, rather than their nurse, shall accompany them. In truth, I rather doubt that such a requirement shall occur, but I am simply pointing out your role should that happen.”

  “I understand, Your Grace.”

  “On Sundays, you shall attend church with myself and the children. The four of us shall ride in the carriage together and shall sit in the front pew, as is the custom of my family.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” Georgette said, already worrying about the awkward conversation that would take place inside the carriage when she was alone with him and the children.

  “And for the rest of Sunday, you may do as you wish.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” Georgette said but was still thinking about church and wondering quite how far away the nearest church was. If only they were in London, then she could be assured that there would be a church within minutes of their current location.

  “I think that will be all for now, Miss Darrington. It is likely that I shall not see you between now and church on Sunday, so if you have any questions, I suggest you ask them before we conclude.” For all the world, he seemed entirely keen to dismiss her, and Georgette could not help feeling just a little insulted.

  “I have no questions, Your Grace,” Georgette said truthfully.

  “Then I rather think that our business is concluded,” he said and suddenly rose from his seat and strode around the desk towards her.

  Once he was standing and within feet of her, Georgette realized quite how tall and broad he was and almost gasped. Before he was anywhere near close, he seemed almost to tower over her. She could see that he was wearing immaculately fitting black breeches, and his black knee boots shone to perfection. All in all, she thought she had never seen a man so well-dressed without any hint of ostentation. It was simply that his tailoring struck her as being second to none.

  As he continued towards her, Georgette could not help thinking that his very stature was most unlike any aristocrat she had ever met. He did not fall into the category of the customary slim and rather angular aristocrat with the sort of aquiline features which tended to give them the appearance of delicately picking their way through life most disdainfully.

  In truth, with a little growth on his chin and different clothing, he would easily pass for a large and rather robust farmhand. For a moment, Georgette thought that she might laugh and held her breath to stave it off.

  The Duke finally drew to a halt in front of her and looked down as she looked up.

  “Just one more thing, Miss Darrington,” he said as Georgette fought the urge to take a step backward away from him. She was not sure if he intended to be intimidating, or if it was simply his size and stature which made him so at that moment. However, it did not stop her wanting to leave.

  “Yes, Your Grace?” she said, somewhat proud to hear that her voice remained steady despite his close proximity.

  “Perhaps as you go about your day-to-day business of educating the children and training them in various accomplishments, you might give some thought to doing what you can to eradicate their Welsh intonations.”

  “Your Grace?” Georgette knew that she had sounded surprised and wished for all the world that she had not.

  “The children were born and raised in North Wales thus far and have acquired the accent of the region. However, they are not returning to Wales and shall, instead, remain here in the heart of the Duchy of Draycott. If they are to be raised in such a home, I would expect them to develop the requisite accent.”

  Without having to ask, Georgette knew, as she was bound to, that he expected them to speak with the clipped and precise tones common among the upper-class English, herself included. Having heard the beautiful, lyrical voices of the little girls, Georgette could not help thinking it a dreadful shame. However, she thought she ought not to openly fight against the thing with her new employer on her first day.

  “Yes, Your Grace,” she said, entirely hiding her disquiet.

  “Well, I shall leave you to your duties,” he said and stepped around her to open the door.

  When he pulled it back wide to allow her to step through, Georgette could not help thinking it a most curious thing. Given his demeanor and the way he had dismissed the housekeeper, she could not begin to imagine that he customarily opened do
ors for his staff in such a gentlemanly fashion. In truth, the entire act seemed greatly at odds with the rest of him and, for a moment, Georgette was not truly sure that he meant for her to leave the room first. She hesitated for a moment and, when he looked at her little quizzically, she thanked him, nodded politely, and disappeared through the doorway.

  As she walked smartly back towards the schoolroom, she heard the study door close softly behind her.

  Chapter 8

  When Georgette approached the door of the schoolroom once more and reached out to open it, she surreptitiously looked back along the corridor to see if the Duke himself had left his room. Since it appeared that he had not, she could only conclude that he had chosen to act like a gentleman before her and open the door, and she found herself just a little confused by it all.