Page 13 of The Governess and the Brooding Duke
She was not certain if her speech moved them, but they did sit down and begin to work with less complaint.
They did not go outside today—though she intended to make walks in the fresh air part of their routine once they had learned not to spend half the lesson time moaning at her.
They took supper, then the children were bathed, and were sent to bed.
And Mary was left on her own...and realised she had not been given a bedchamber.
She was standing in the centre of the long corridor, staring at the busts that lined the hall. In that moment, they felt as if they might be her only friends. She wondered if she would ever know the names of each of these figureheads. Did the Duke of Westmere in fact know who they all were? She imagined he did. And perhaps went and thanked each one of them every night for their place in his lineage.
He seemed the sort. To know everything. To feel a sense of gravity in all things.
Mrs Brown appeared at the end of the hall, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. The other woman was perfectly starched at all times, from her neatly pinned brown hair that was shot through with grey all the way down to her black skirts. She made Mary feel like her façade was poorly constructed indeed. ‘Miss, the Duke respectfully requests that you join him in his study.’
Perhaps she was to be dismissed after all.
Perhaps all he’d needed was for her to stay the day.
She felt a rush of emotion that made her head swim and made her knees feel weak.
She knew two things in that moment.
She wanted to run from this place as fast as her legs could carry her.
And she would be devastated to never see the children again.
To never see the Duke of Westmere again.
Today, the children and her past had occupied her thoughts, but the moment she thought of the Duke it was like everything fell away but the vision of his stern blue gaze.
She shouldwantto run from all of it.
That was wise.
But the feeling of sadness at the thought of leaving was a strange sort of foolishness she could scarcely comprehend.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ she said, her heart thundering ever so slightly as she made her way down the stairs towards the location of the Duke’s study.
She had assumed he would want a written account of the day, but it had not occurred to her that he would demand to see her again.
It made her stomach feel like a bellows with all the air pushed out.
So she focused on her surroundings. Her footsteps on the hard marble floor.
The wallpaper in this part of the house was garish. Bright green with creeping vines on it. It was such a bright green it was nearly cheerful.
It mocked her.
There was nothing cheerful in her heart, not now.
There was only dread, turmoil and the vision of the Duke’s uncompromising face.
Her focus was so narrow now. Not on the past, not on the children. But on the man himself.
She had worked for two other families that were part of the aristocracy. And though they were not dukes, they had been important men. With wives who were well-positioned in society.
Perhaps it was the pall of grief cast over this house.
The Duke had just lost his wife. The children had just lost their mother.
