Page 22 of Last Night with the Duke
She snapped her book shut quickly and curtsied. “Your Grace.”
“Miss Swift.” He took off his hat as his gaze swept past her to the fireplace before settling on her face. “Am I interrupting anything other than your reading?”
“No,” she said, gripping the book tightly in her hands and lowering it to the front of her skirt.
“That’s good,” he said.
Different thoughts scattered crazily in her mind. What could she say to him about how she’d spent all of his money? How could she justify what she’d done? If she were a weaker woman, she would faint from the very idea of having to tell him some of it had gone to heat the house and for new clothing for Josephine too.
But she wasn’t weak. Esmeralda had proven that when shortly after her mother died she’d applied for a position with Miss Fortescue and was immediately accepted. Without her mother to guide Josephine’s father, Esmeralda knew she couldn’t depend on him to make enough money from his poetry and stories to take care of the family, and she’d been right.
She took a step toward the duke. A more tentative step than she’d wanted, but she wouldn’t let him know she was trembling inside. It was one thing to tell yourself to be strong and brave, but quite another to actually be that way when you were staring eye to eye with a duke.
“Have you decided you don’t need me?”
His brow tightened. His deep blue eyes watched her intently. “You amaze me, Miss Swift.”
“Do I?” she questioned cautiously.
“Yes. I have never seen anyone who has tried so hard to keep from working for me.”
Her stomach jumped again. “Well, I—”
He walked farther into the room. Stopping in front of her, he tossed his hat into a chair. “Usually I have people standing in line wanting to be of service to me; others pleading for my assistance in one way or another. Here you are still trying to get out of being employed by me. Let me assure you that won’t happen. We have an agreement. It is a good one for both of us. I won’t let you break it.”
Thank goodness!
Her fears about her position in his household put to rest, she simply said, “You are persistent.”
“With you, I’m forced to be. Now tell me, do you have any new demands to make today?”
Demands?
She had done that, hadn’t she? But only because, at the time, she’d hoped to persuade him to use someone else in the agency.
“Of course not. I didn’t know you were coming by. Why would you think that?”
Humor twitched the corners of his mouth. “I was thinking perhaps you were going to tell me that you discovered Napoleon has a sister after all and she must come with you to Mayfair.”
Esmeralda smiled too. And a soft, short laugh escaped past her lips. “I have no such ultimatums to make today. I thought maybe you had re— I mean, I didn’t expect to see you again until I arrived at your house, but no matter about that now.”
“Did you find someone to take care of your responsibilities here in the agency while you are away?”
“Yes,” she said, feeling the tension slowly ebbing from her body and her runaway heartbeat returning to almost normal. She had a feeling that, in his presence, it would never be normal. “Everything has been arranged satisfactorily.”
“Let me guess,” he said, folding his arms across his broad chest. “It will be Miss Pennywaite who replaces you.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “How did you know?”
“From what little I heard of your conversation with her the other day, I think it was clear she doesn’t have the fortitude to handle a strong-minded child and that you’d have to replace her.”
Esmeralda would have used the word “spoiled” instead of “strong-minded,” but kept her thoughts to herself and said, “You’re right, she doesn’t. Though she tried hard to overcome her feelings of inadequacies in knowing how to calm her charge and prevail.”
It wasn’t so much his handsome face that kept Esmeralda staring at him, it was all of him. The wide shoulders, broad chest, slim hips, and the powerful-looking legs ensconced in shiny black knee boots. Her gaze dropped to the medallion at his throat that held his cloak together. The design was beautiful and fancy with lots of swirls and curls. After a moment, she realized the inscription was a G.
In a rare moment of make believe, Esmeralda envisioned herself walking up to the duke, unhooking the ornamental pewter disk at the base of his throat, and letting the black cape fall to the floor. She imagined slowly untying the casual bow of his neckcloth, unwinding it, and allowing it too to flutter to the floor. She imagined closing her eyes and reaching up to place her lips against his as he gathered her into his strong, warm embrace.
Anticipation rose in her chest.
