Page 41 of Last Night with the Duke
“Good. I’m glad I’m clear on that.”
“Anything else?”
“That’s all.”
“Then once again I’ll bid you good day, Miss Swift.”
Chapter 13
Don’t get caught in the middle of a family matter by voicing your opinion. Do be mum on your view of things.
MISSMAMIEFORTESCUE’SDO’SANDDON’TSFORCHAPERONES, GOVERNESSES, TUTORS,ANDNURSES
Esmeralda couldn’t watch the duke walk away. She stared at the broken figurine and urn. Her shoulders slumped with relief as she let out a heavy silent sigh. The sensations he’d created inside her were confusing at best. She couldn’t believe the duke’s touch had stirred her to the point of madness. That she was aching for him to wrap her into his arms and kiss her with all the passion she was feeling couldn’t be anything but madness.
She closed her eyes and expelled a deep breath.
He was right when he’d said she was attracted to him. She was. Immensely so, but there was nothing to do about it but fight it, deny it, and make sure she kept it to herself. What she was doing for her future and Josephine’s had to be at the forefront of her mind. She’d been given another chance. She must not lose it over silly notions of kissing and these mysteriously feminine feelings he aroused inside her. That she even kept the post was a miracle considering all the damage Napoleon had caused.
Perhaps the duke wasn’t as set in his beliefs and as unforgiving as Viscount Mayeforth had been. In any case, it would only be for six weeks at the most. Surely she could keep her wits about her, keep Napoleon under control, and her feelings for the duke at bay for that long.
Shaking off the lingering effects of his touch and her desires for more, Esmeralda walked down the corridor. She looked into the open doorways as she passed, stopping to give a closer look to the dining room. A highly polished table was surrounded by chairs covered with a golden-colored brocade that matched the draperies. Placed in the middle of the long table was a large silver urn with a lion’s-head handle on each end. Past that room was a small music room. A pianoforte and a harp stood in one of the far corners. Chairs were lined around the walls, as if a musical might be planned for that evening.
The last room on the left was the book room, the duke’s private study. The first thing she noticed when she stepped inside was its warmth. A fire was burning, but the heat that enveloped her came from a far different source than the small leaping flames. It had been from the look in the duke’s blue gaze, the expressions on his face, and his nearness when he touched her. She looked around and smiled. There was something intimate about having free reign of the duke’s private study. But her practical side reared up. Those were the things she must find a way to put out of her mind and remember she was a mere servant to him.
Both sides of the room were lined with shelves stuffed with books of all sizes. She hadn’t seen that many bound copies all in one place since she and her mother left Viscount Mayeforth’s house almost fifteen years ago.
On the back wall were twin windows. The chocolate-colored draperies were pulled back and sunshine streamed inside, making the dust particles shimmer in the air. A small round table and lamp sat between two comfortable-looking, upholstered armchairs. It was easy to imagine herself curled up in one sipping warm chocolate, reading until the sun faded, then lighting a lamp and continuing until darkness covered the sky.
Esmeralda was suddenly filled with sweet memories of her youth. When she lived in a spacious house like this instead of working in one. When she had servants instead of being one. For a few moments she allowed herself the time to indulge in those happy remembrances of a life with no worries, no responsibilities, and no thoughts of the future except to attend the Season and fall in love with a handsome gentleman. She’d missed those days of her youth, and she could never get them back.
Because her mother had made the choice of love over family and left Polite Society behind, Esmeralda now had a different future than she was brought up expecting. She supposed it was impossible to keep all her memories at bay. And now she’d added another to her storehouse of the past. The duke’s intimate touch and all the thrilling sensations it awakened inside her.
At that thought she laughed. She supposed one never got too old to daydream and think about love, to want the touch of a handsome prince and to see desire for her in his eyes. Surely there was nothing wrong with permitting herself the fantasy of enjoying them all once in a while.
But for now, she reminded herself again, she could only go forward and see to it that Josephine had a good life.
Taking a steadying breath, she walked over to the desk. Stacks of papers and cards were lined up in meticulous order under headings.Accepted invitations. Declined invitations. Alternate Invitations.Placed on the desk in front of the chair was a note addressed to Esmeralda. Beside it was a daily appointment calendar that started with the first ball of the Season.
She skimmed down the pages that held all the events they would be attending as well as the times for afternoons and evenings. Their days would be busy, but thanks to Lady Evelyn’s thoroughness it would be very easy to follow exactly what to do. Esmeralda picked up the letter addressed to her and broke the wax seal.
Dear Miss Swift,
The duke told me he has explained why employing you was necessary. So I will dispense with further mention of it and so will you. He assures me you are capable for the duties for which you have been positioned. The only thing left is for you to prove that you are.
If you have studied my previous notes that the duke delivered to you, you know what I expect from you.
Each morning I will hear from Lady Sara and Lady Vera about the evening before and will have Harper deliver further instructions to you for the day.
I await your questions.
Lady Evelyn
That note was about as direct as could be, Esmeralda thought.
From a distance, Esmeralda heard Napoleon barking and Josephine squealing with delight. She laid the note down on the desk, walked over to the window, and looked out. Josephine was running and holding a long length of ribbon out behind her. It fluttered and flapped in the wind as Napoleon chased after her, nipping at the flowing piece of satin. Her red hair bounced and swayed around her shoulders. The skirt of her new dress tangled around her legs.
Esmeralda smiled as she pressed her forehead against the cold windowpane. For a few weeks her sister would have a little taste of what her life would have been like if she could have grown up as the granddaughter of a viscount. “Thank you, Your Grace,” Esmeralda whispered softly into the quietness. “For giving Josephine this gift to enjoy being outside and playing with her dog.”
