“Oh, thank you, thank you,” Gertrude replied, bouncing up and down in her glee.
“You’re welcome, just stop that, you’re making me dizzy.”
Gertrude turned to address her governess, who was standing just inside the door. “Did you hear? We can go, too!”
“That is wonderful. You must thank His Grace.”
“I did already,” Gertrude pointed out, not incorrectly.
“Of course, well, we will go get ready.”
“We will be leaving in seven minutes,” Michael added. “If you’re not there, we will go without you.”
“Oh!” Gertrude left the room with a shriek, Chester trotting along behind her, leaving them alone. Again.
“That is very kind of you,” she said in a soft voice. “I know it is not what you would have preferred.”
Not at all, since I was scheming how to continue what we began the night before, Michael thought grumpily. But didn’t say it, of course, since he still had work to do, and now he had a demonstration to attend with a six-year-old, an easily startled governess, and the woman who was driving him mad.
That was all. A simple matter, really, for someone with his brainpower. Even though he wasn’t thinking with his brain at the moment.
“Tickets,” the guard standing at the entrance to the exhibit hall said in a bored tone of voice. He took the tickets Michael handed him without even bothering to look at them.
Edwina smothered a snort at the thought that this might be the only time someone was not impressed with the duke’s very presence.
“Over here,” the duke said, using that enthusiastic voice she’d heard only for the first time earlier that day. Gertrude trotted along behind him, her hand reaching up to take his. He took it, and Edwina felt her heart begin to get a little soft.
Awkward-sounding, but that was the truth of it.
“How do you stand it?” Miss Clark said in a whisper.
Edwina turned to look at the younger woman. Her eyes were darting around the room, her face lit up with excitement. Of course, she probably had never been to something like this before. And didn’t seem to be anticipating the massive amount of boredom Edwina was.
“Stand what?” Because there were a lot of things she couldn’t stand—how Gertrude pouted when she didn’t get her way, how her late husband had been such an idiot about women, about how she was unable to stop thinking about the duke, and how he’d kissed her—but she didn’t think Miss Clark would be asking about any of that.
“Working for him.”
Because I’ve kissed him? Because I seem to be unduly obsessed with him?
She feigned ignorance, mostly because she was ignorant. For all she knew, Miss Clark could be talking about the fact that he was so very tall, it would be difficult for someone as short as Miss Clark to look him in the eye.
Although that did seem rather unlikely.
“I don’t understand.” Edwina tried to keep her demeanor casual. As though it didn’t matter at all that she was working for a remarkably attractive man who happened to seem to find her attractive as well. Not anything to concern herself with.
“He is so—so scary,” Miss Clark replied, lowering her voice even more. Given how noisy it was in the exhibition hall, it wasn’t necessary, but Edwina appreciated the girl’s discretion.
“Not to me.” And she knew she was telling the truth—she found him attractive, almost excruciatingly so, but he didn’t frighten her. If anything, she found she looked forward to the challenge each morning. It felt . . . invigorating to work with him, to ask him the kind of questions that would result in one of his very rare nods of approval, to present him with what he needed even before he realized he needed it. To tease out his kindness that lurked under all his logic. To watch as he revealed tiny fragments of who he really was, but only to her. “He is a bit”—rude—“abrupt, but that just means he is direct in what he wants.”
Miss Clark’s eyes narrowed in thought. As did the rest of her face—it looked compressed, as though someone were screwing it up tightly.
“I suppose that is better than having to work for someone when you don’t know what they mean. With him, at least, he says what he means.”
“Yes, he does.” She shivered as she recalled it—I want to kiss you. Will you allow me to kiss you?—and had to shake herself when Miss Clark continued to speak.
“Are you getting ill?” she said in a concerned tone.
Edwina opened her mouth to reply as rudely as the duke ever had—No, I’m not, and I wish people would stop asking me that—only that was rude, and she wasn’t quite at Hadlow-level rudeness yet.
Maybe if she spent more time in his company she’d have that to look forward to.
She grinned as she walked up to where Gertrude and the duke were examining some sort of mechanical equipment.
“That piece there,” he said, pointing, “that is the reach rod.” Gertrude nodded. The duke glanced at her before returning to his perusal of the engine. Which looked, to Edwina’s eyes, like a bunch of odd-fitting metal parts put together. Apparently—at least judging by the two of their faces—fascinating odd-fitting metal parts put together.
“And that one?” Gertrude pointed to another piece of metal.
“The radius rod.”
“And that part?”
Edwina held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t lose patience with Gertrude’s eternal questions.
“The cylinder. It’s circular, see?”
And let her breath go.
“What is that one?” Gertrude pointed again.
The duke shot a quick glance at Edwina, looking pained. Maybe he was annoyed? She was just beginning to step forward when he spoke. “The eccentric crank.”
The eccentric crank.
She stopped dead in her tracks as she started to laugh. Laugh so hard, in fact, she snorted, a very unladylike sound that made his eyebrows raise and a few people nearby look at her.
She waved her hand at him apologetically, unable to speak in the throes of her giggles.
Gertrude turned and glowered at her, as though peeved at her mother for interrupting her time with the duke and the engine.
The duke cleared his throat, his jaw clamped shut, his lips pressed into a firm line. But Edwina knew his expressions well enough to know he wasn’t upset—a faint flush had stolen over his cheekbones, and he was staring determinedly at the engine, so she could tell he was just embarrassed.
At least he had enough awareness to recognize he, too, could be called an eccentric crank.
The thought just made her giggle some more, and then he did look at her, rolling his eyes in exasperation.
“Can we go look over there?” Gertrude said, taking his hand as though it were entirely natural for her to do so. He nodded, but not before narrowing his eyes at Edwina, as though promising she’d hear about his ire later.
She hoped so. She definitely hoped so.
Why Do Dukes Fall in Love?
66. Because even a duke is powerless when it comes to the heart.
Chapter 10
Michael had never had anyone laugh at him. As far as he knew, at least. It felt—odd. Not entirely unpleasant. Rather as though she was sharing a joke with him, one he was the butt of, but still sharing something.
He walked with Gertrude, her hand in his, toward another one of the exhibits. This was a first as well—sharing something he loved so much with someone who seemed as interested in it as he was.
“Gertrude?” A man’s voice called her name, and the girl turned her head to look in the voice’s direction.
Michael did as well, unconsciously tightening his hold on her hand.
“It is you,” the man said, a wide smile splitting his face. He was of average height, and larger than average width, and dressed in the clothing of a merchant or a banker or someone. He wore a large black hat on his head, which he removed as he approached them, revealing thinning black hair and rather large ears.
Michael did not like him instinct
ively, but since Michael tended not to like most people instinctively, that didn’t seem worth mentioning.
“Uncle Robert,” Gertrude replied, but not letting go of Michael’s hand, he noticed.
“And your mother is—oh, there she is,” the man said, his eyes going past Gertrude to alight on Cheltam, Michael presumed.
“Good day, Robert.” She spoke in a more subdued tone than Michael was used to. Of course he’d figured out this was the younger brother who had mismanaged her late husband’s affairs—he could see where she wouldn’t want to greet him heartily.
The man looked at Michael pointedly.
“Yes, of course,” she murmured. “Your Grace, this is my brother-in-law, Robert Cheltam. Robert, this is the Duke of Hadlow.”
Michael was strangely reluctant to let go of Gertrude’s hand, but had to, since the man was holding his out for a handshake.
“A duke, Edwina,” the man said in a knowing tone of voice, a tone that made Michael bristle. Thankfully he didn’t say whatever he was going to continue with saying, hopefully because of the glare Michael knew he had on his face.
“I work for the duke, Robert.” She spoke forcefully, if quietly.
“Of course you do,” the man replied, still speaking in that same smug tone. Michael resisted the urge to punch him in the face.
Really, everyone should be grateful that Michael was learning not to do things he wanted to—things like tell people they were idiots, or tell people they were being even bigger idiots, or kiss his beautiful secreta—
Right. Never mind. Maybe he would punch the man after all.
She must have sensed what he was thinking, since she put a hand on his arm. “It was nice to see you, Robert. Tell Ellen that Gertrude and I send our greetings to her, and hope that you are all doing well.”
“Yes, thank you, Edwina,” the man replied. He glanced at the duke, then at Cheltam—Edwina, that is—then back at the duke. “I will be on my way, then.” He stepped forward to chuck Gertrude under the chin, as she tried to duck her head to avoid the touch. “You behave for your mother, now.” He looked up at Edwina, his expression hardening. “Since you don’t have your father anymore.”
Michael was now seriously considering not just punching him, but knocking him down and stomping on his ridiculous hat.
Thankfully, Mr. Cheltam turned and walked quickly away, leaving him with a tingling in his hands, which had curled up into fists, and a fierce urge to take both ladies home immediately, for no other reason than that they’d be in his house, under his protection.
Only that wouldn’t be what either one wanted, would it? Gertrude was, as he’d already gratefully noticed, pleased to be there in the first place, whereas Cheltam would raise her chin and make some pointed remarks about her being able to take care of herself.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. This whole finding-people-one-might-possibly-have-an-interest-in thing was complicated. He hadn’t expected that. Which made it all the more interesting, adding layers of interest to his . . . interest.
Now he would have to admonish himself not to be an idiot.
If only he could avoid being idiotic—again—with her. He wasn’t entirely certain he could, however.
Interesting.
For a moment there, Edwina thought she might have to extricate Robert’s face from Hadlow’s fist. Thankfully, he hadn’t done anything, but she still felt herself wary, as though he might go off at any moment.
Not that she thought he was impulsive—his proper-time-and-place-for-inappropriate-indulgences-with-his-secretary remark would indicate that—but she did know he did not like people who—
Well, she could just stop there.
But to finish her thought, she knew he did not like people who presumed, or insinuated, or did anything but flat-out say what they meant. He’d told her that during one of their first times working together.
It was unpleasant seeing Robert again, but its unpleasantness was assuaged because she didn’t have to worry about him, or what he might say, or do. George had stipulated that his brother had guardianship of Gertrude, along with Edwina, but Robert had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with any of that, beyond a perfunctory offer for Gertrude to live there.
“I’m not going to live with Uncle Robert, am I?” Gertrude’s question made her throat tighten, even as she tried to keep her expression calm.
“No, you’re not.” The duke spoke before she could, and she wanted to snap at him, to tell him she could answer her daughter on her own, but she also felt grateful that he had replied so quickly and so assuredly.
Even more after she saw Gertrude’s face, which broke out into a smile. “Good. Because he smells funny, and there are no treats, and he doesn’t even have a dog.” The last part was spoken in outrage, as though not having a dog was the worst thing imaginable.
Edwina was grateful that in her daughter’s world that might very well be the worst thing imaginable. And it was up to her to keep it that way.
“Miss Gertrude,” the duke said, taking her hand again, “can we go over there? I want to look at those other engines.” He looked over his shoulder at her, his eyebrows narrowing as though to ask, Are you all right?
She nodded, and allowed herself to breathe a little more deeply. It was just a chance encounter, it didn’t mean anything.
What did mean something was that she was communicating nonverbally with him. She hoped he couldn’t read her entirely, or else he would know about all the times she’d watched him from under her eyelashes, when she was supposed to be examining boring documents or transcribing notes or doing anything that was less interesting than looking at him.
“Mrs. Cheltam,” Miss Clark said as the duke and Gertrude walked away, “I hope you did not think it rude of me to discuss our employer as I did.” As usual, the woman—or girl, really—sounded worried.
Edwina turned to her and patted her arm. “No, of course not.” Even though it actually was rude, wasn’t it? But like him, she thought she preferred people being honest and open rather than hiding things away. It made things much easier.
I want to kiss you.
Yes, like that.
“Should we go find a place to sit?” Edwina nodded in the direction the duke and Gertrude had headed in. “I am guessing they will be some time.”
“That sounds lovely,” Miss Clark said. “I am not accustomed to all these crowds, I have to admit to being a bit nervous around so many people.”
Again, Miss Clark probably could have stopped at “being a bit nervous,” since it seemed nearly everything made her nervous—the intimidating duke, the people gathering together to view engines—far more than Edwina would have expected, given her own lack of interest in them. But it made sense that Miss Clark would be skittish; from what she’d offered during their initial meeting, she had spent many years at a small school, the last few of them as a teacher after her parents had died unexpectedly. Leaving her with nothing. Rather like Edwina herself, only Edwina also had a child to care for. And she felt decades, not just years, older than Miss Clark, who somehow managed to retain an air of innocence, despite having been forced to encounter the hard truths of her life such a short time ago.
The two of them walked to the side of the room, where there were fewer people, and Edwina thought she saw a few benches. They found an unoccupied one and sat, Edwina allowing herself to lean back, smiling to herself as she thought about the duke commenting on her posture.
“Have you worked for the duke long?” Miss Clark asked, wriggling her feet in a very girlish way. Edwina smiled, then shook her head.
“No, just a few days or so before you joined us.”
The other woman looked surprised. “I would have thought you had been there for some time; you seem so comfortable with him.”
She wished she could tell Miss Clark she was comfortable, entirely too comfortable, but that he also made her uncomfortable in a very pleasant way. But of course she couldn’t. She didn’t think she should
even share that kind of information with Carolyn—it would be just as her friend had feared, her getting entangled with her employer.
Thankfully, Miss Clark changed the topic before Edwina had to figure out anything to say. “I was wondering about taking Gertrude out for longer walks. Would that be acceptable to you?”
“Of course, you don’t have to ask. As long as you don’t mind having a third accompany you,” she said with a grin, thinking of Chester.
Miss Clark laughed. “Not at all. It wouldn’t shock me if he suddenly started to recite his alphabet, he is with Miss Gertrude most of the day. I like dogs. We had one when I was small.” She gave a wan smile. “Before everything happened.”
There was a story there, Edwina could tell. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked softly.
Miss Clark shook her head, her eyes suspiciously bright. “No, not here. Thank you, though. It is comforting to know I could, if I wished to. I am so glad Miss Carolyn recommended me for the position, I am very happy, even if the duke does frighten me a little.” She laughed. “A lot.”
Edwina found the duke and Gertrude in the crowd, a contented sigh emitting from her mouth as she thought about how much had changed in the past month. Not only was she handling the bare necessities of life for herself and her daughter, but she felt as though she had, perhaps, found a home, a place where she belonged, where she was valued for something other than her appearance.
Although she didn’t think the duke would wish to kiss her if she was the male secretary he might have wanted to hire, so perhaps her appearance did play somewhat of a part in her current mood. But she didn’t mind that, since she had agency over what she did with her appearance—she knew she could tell him she did not wish to continue kissing him after all, and he would be fine with that.
She wouldn’t, she knew that, but he would.
Why Do Dukes Fall in Love?: A Dukes Behaving Badly Novel Page 10