Page 32 of The Governess and the Brooding Duke
‘You can tell me yourself, while we walk to your room.’
‘Very well. Today was better. Tomorrow I plan on taking them out. We will go to the garden and have our tea there. I am working with them on identifying different plants. A bit of botany. To go with their science.’
‘The previous governesses did not teach science.’
‘I wish for them to have a broad range of knowledge. Anything that I know, they ought to know.’
‘Such as how to stow knives on their person and defend themselves if the need arises?’
‘Would that be a bad thing?’
‘No.’
He realised then that he would be pleased if his own daughter could wield a knife in such a way as to protect herself.
‘I would not refuse my children having such an education.’
‘We shall see.’
They walked up the stairs and down the long corridor. ‘True to your word, you have not offered me any advice.’
‘I...’
And then suddenly, there in the darkness, she began to tremble.
‘Mary?’
She sagged against the wall and he moved forward without a thought, gripping her arms and holding her there, studying her. She was soft. But she was shaking, and that took precedence to his revelation over her softness.
He held her firm and fast, just trying to be steady. It was the one thing he knew how to be. Constant.
He had resisted touching her for his own sake. He did so now for hers.
He did not know how to talk to somebody about their feelings. He did not know how to talk about his own. He did not know how to feel his own.
But he could be there. He could hold fast. It was the only way he knew to be. And so he held her there while she shook.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, his voice rough. ‘I am sorry that you have had occasion to feel unsafe in my household.’
And there was no room for games now, for needling her.
He did not wish to tear down the walls, not now. Because he felt as if he was seeing behind them in this moment, and it made him feel undone. He liked her strong. He liked her wilful and fighting.
He did not wish to see her shaken.
‘I am... I am not afraid of him. Of any man. I did everything I hoped I might do when cornered. I could have saved myself. What I fear is... I would have killed him. I would have.’
‘You would’ve been right to do so.’
She shook her head. ‘No. No, I...’
‘You did not advance upon him. You did not create the problem. Do not feel guilt over it now.’
‘I am terrified at what I came so close to. And I am grateful that I did not have to. And also filled with regret that the man still walks the earth.’
And he understood. She didn’t want to have to be the one to cut his throat, but thinking of Pelham, as he was, out in the world, was a disturbing thought.
‘He will think twice. He will think twice before he ever treats a woman this way again. Because of you. He will never be entirely certain that a woman does not have a knife in her corset.’
