Page 53 of The Governess and the Brooding Duke
‘You are the Duke. Undeniably. You outrank me in every way. But having watched your father tear apart my sister’s life, having watched him wreak havoc on all of his children, I will speak to you on the subject. The only kindness he ever did my sister was keeping his unusual tastes confined to mistresses and brothels. There are things that you do with a harlot that you must never ask of a lady wife.’
And he, all of sixteen and horrified by the mention of a brothel, and by the fantasies that rolled through his mind at night when sleep did not claim him, had only stood there, looking stone-faced at the back wall.
But he had taken it to heart.
And when he had seen to his instruction regarding his baser appetites, he had asked one of the harlots which acts were not permitted with wives.
She had laughed.
‘This is why I’d never seek to be a proper lady. I should be grateful, I suppose, that I was born far beneath such considerations. I would rather suck a cock than spend my days hosting tea parties.’
And that, he had learned, was one of the things that wives did not do.
He had known what he was giving up to be married. But he had seen it as an easy enough task.
He’d given up one in favour of gaining another.
And it was a chance to prove his superior control. He was better than his father, and he would always have that assurance.
He never raised his voice to his children, nor his hand. And never to his wife, regardless of how things had soured.
He was never unfaithful. And he’d never asked for her to...
He wondered, not for the first time, if he had done the wrong thing somehow.
And yet he could not take that on board. He dismissed it. Harshly and brutally.
He urged his horse forward, tapping his flanks, and then stopped him short when he looked down over the rolling hills and saw three figures picking through the grass. His two children, and a woman with very bright red hair.
She was wearing a different dress to the one she’d had on yesterday, this one a pale colour that lit her up as a beacon across the way.
He should turn away and leave them. His children’s lessons were not his concern. It was why he had need of a governess.
And the governess was why he had need of a punishing ride.
And yet he found himself riding his horse towards them.
He had never come across his children on their outings. The previous governesses had always kept their charges confined to the garden.
And this was far and away from the more civilised places on the estate. There were foxes, badgers and even wolves out there.
And he allowed himself to feel angry that Mary had brought them out this far without speaking to him first. Yes, she had said that she was taking them out, but why would he ever assume that she would go beyond the confines of the walls?
He picked up the pace, the intensity of the horse’s gait increasing.
He saw when they heard him. They stopped, looking in his direction with wide eyes.
He stopped the horse and got off.
‘Steady,’ he said to the beast, putting his hand on the stallion’s neck. The horse obeyed.
He strode towards them, his dark greatcoat blowing in the wind. ‘And what is it you are doing out this way?’
‘Your Grace,’ she said, nodding.
‘Father,’ said Elizabeth, giving him a curtsy.
And Michael said nothing, looking away from him.
