Page 113 of The Governess and the Brooding Duke
‘Then I will see you in a few days.’
‘Yes. Look after the children. Send my apologies that I will miss our walks.’
‘Of course.’
And then he left. And it felt as if a part of him shattered when he closed the door behind him.
Mary watched the children race about the garden and tried to smile at them. He had not withdrawn his offer to make her his mistress. They had slept together all night in his room and she had not moved back to her own room. His valet had seen them in bed together.
He had said nothing, of course. And Mary knew that afterwards Samuel would’ve spoken to him about it.
He had been attentive this morning before he had left, giving her a deep kiss before he had gone to his study.
She was still acting as governess until he replaced her, and she had gone quickly to her room to ready herself for the day.
But he was a different man when he had walked out of that house.
Something had changed within him.
He was... Distant. And hesitant.
She had said that she loved him, and she could sense that it was a mistake.
It was not a truth that he could manage.
What if he withdrew the offer?
She did not think he would. He was a man of honour. But did she stay in a position with a man who did not love her? With a man for whom her love created this... Conflict?
She looked out at the children again.
She could not leave. But she could offer to go back to being the governess. The very idea made her feel like she was being cleaved in two. She had lied to herself when she’d said she could take the sadness in trade for the happiness that she had experienced. For this was different. This was heartbreak.
It was not bearable.
It was too late anyway. The valet would’ve told everyone in the household that she had been in his bed this morning. They had begun that first, brazen move.
Mrs Brown would know.
They had not thought this through. They had been caught up in their desire.
What a strange thing to know that she could be.
What a brilliant and utterly wonderful thing.
She was as foolish as every woman. Everyone who fancied herself in love.
She was foolish, and so was he.
Then perhaps it was his cock and not his heart which had made the decisions here.
She could not be certain.
Either way, they had put themselves into a mess. One that could not be easily fixed. At teatime, she excused herself from the nursery and went to find Mrs Brown.
‘Mrs Brown,’ she said. ‘I must speak to you...’
‘Yes, girl?’ The older woman fixed her with a stare.
