Page 59 of The Governess and the Brooding Duke
‘We have a picnic lunch waiting for us back in the garden.’
‘Good. I will escort you back there.
‘You will come and meet me in my study this afternoon. And we will speak about your plans to walk about the grounds, and the safety concerns.’
‘Yes, Your Grace.’
Mary went and beckoned the children back to them and they began to head back on the path that would take them home to Attingham.
‘Father, it has been a lovely day,’ said Elizabeth, her face alight with joy he hadn’t seen in far too long.
He could see Mary flush, but this time it was with pleasure. She cared a great deal that the children had a good time. He could see that.
He did not care whether or not the children had a good time. It was not about that. Safety, and whether or not they were about their studies, that was what mattered. Everything in its proper place. And he was not certain his children’s proper place was beyond the walls of the garden.
And yet he would not make them come in now.
‘Three o’clock sharp,’ he said.
‘Yes, Your Grace.’
And there was something in that acquiescence that he found sweet.
He turned and rode away from her, and made his way back to the estate. His grooms took the horse, and led him back to the stables.
His heart was thundering.
She was insolent, was Mary Smith. And he was even more certain than ever that Smith was not her last name. He imagined it was one reason she actually had the children call her by her first name. He wondered if she had difficulty answering to it regularly.
If she sometimes did not recall the ruse, or her ears did not turn naturally towards Smith.
He did not like insolent women. When he played games with them in the brothels, he preferred for them to be perfectly obedient. And yet there was something about the way that Mary defied him that excited him.
Fired his blood.
Jane would’ve seen that as a perversion. Or perhaps she wouldn’t have.
He did not know his wife. It was something that would haunt him until he died. He had not truly known her at all.
When he made his way back into the house, the cry of the babe was rending the air in two.
‘Mrs Brown,’ he shouted, forgetting himself. Forgetting to ring the bell.
‘Why have we not found a new wet nurse?’
‘Oh, Your Grace,’ Mrs Brown said, moving quickly through the room. ‘We have been searching...’
‘Have we no safety measures in place for if that occurs?’
‘The governess and I are meant to attend the babe if the wet nurse is not at hand, but I was seeing to—’
‘You have responsibilities, Mrs Brown, I know.’
And Mary was out on the property. Of course.
‘This will not do.’
‘Your Grace...’
