Page 60 of The Governess and the Brooding Duke
‘I do not wish to hear the child. Nor do I wish to be responsible for the care of the child, do you understand?’
‘Yes, Your Grace,’ said Mrs Brown.
And he knew she did not understand. She never would.
And he was caught between giving an explanation and knowing that he never could offer one.
It was untenable. Utterly untenable.
And perhaps his anger wasn’t warranted when it came to Mary, but she had left the house and she had not made arrangements with Mrs Brown, clearly. And how dare she lecture him on the babe and his needs when she had forgotten him?
God help Mary Smith when she appeared before him today at three sharp. Because there were things that needed to be settled. And he would see that they were.
Chapter Twelve
Something in her felt wild and reckless as she made her way to the Duke’s study.
The back of her throat felt hollow, a strange metallic taste on her tongue.
Her heart was thundering rapidly, even though she had not run. She stood, her wrist poised, her fist ready to knock on the door.
‘If you are standing outside, do come in.’
A smile touched her lips. He had known that she would be on time. And he was obviously completely mindful of the minute.
She opened the door. ‘Your Grace.’
‘How is it, Mary, that you have seen fit to lecture me on the care of the babe, in this very spot, when you yourself did not see to his care this afternoon?’
‘Your Grace?’
‘The babe was crying. No one was here to tend to the infant. Mrs Brown had other responsibilities to see to and had not made it to see the child, and when I arrived at the house he was inconsolable.’
Her temper ignited, and swiftly. The child was not solely her responsibility and if he could hear him Mrs Brown could have too. But, above all else, he had been there.
‘Surely it would not hurt your lofty station to hold your own child?’
And she realised the moment she had said that that her words had run away with her. No matter what she thought, he was...the Duke. And she could not speak to him in that fashion.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said swiftly.
He was a man in grief. A man who had lost his wife, and she could see that the babe occupied a complicated space in everyone’s life. But she could not help but pity the small child who had done nothing but be born. The child who had no stake in what had become of the woman who had birthed him. And yet was reviled by everyone around him.
‘And yet you are not,’ he said. ‘You think that you can challenge me. You did so when you were out in the fields with my children. You question my authority in front of them.’
‘I confess that I have not had so much interaction with the master of the house over the course of my tenure as governess for other families.’
‘I assume that their mother was not dead.’
‘You assume correctly. And I apologise. I have never taken employment with a duke and...’
‘You do not respect me. Nor my title.’
‘I understand the position that you occupy.’
‘You do not observe it.’
‘Have I not spoken to you using appropriate honorifics?’
