How to Claim a Governess’s Heart - Bridget Barton Page 0,49

She settled herself back on the ground where she and Miss Thatcher had been drawing silly pictures just moments earlier.

"I will begin the make connections with various publishers in town who have published works similar to what I have written. It is common for first-time authors to commission publishing, meaning I will front the costs. The publisher will see that the work is circulated and take only a small percentage of the sale."

"That seems like it would make it easier to find someone willing to publish your manuscript as well," Miss Thatcher remarked.

"Well, yes and no. Certainly, they will be more willing because it doesn't risk their own funds. Still, they also must put a lot of work into ensuring my book's circulation and subsequent sale. It will only be accepted if they think there is a chance my book will be successful."

"I am sure it is no small monetary sacrifice on your part as well."

"It is a substantial amount, I will admit. It is what has caused the hiccup in my future desires. My brother has blocked my access to funds set aside for me that I would rather use for this endeavour than the one he wishes me to pursue."

"And this is where the bet lies?"

"Yes."

Lord John had told Miss Thatcher the basics of what had transpired but never gone into too much detail.

"I must find a publisher who will put in writing that my manuscript is composed well enough that he would be willing to publish it. Once I have proved this to my brother, I will have won our agreement."

Miss Thatcher opened her mouth to respond, but before a sound was uttered, the door leading from the office burst open. Both Lord John and Miss Thatcher were so startled by the sudden action they instantly stood.

The Duke of Ludford's frame filled the whole doorway. He looked around the room, his blue eyes cold and demanding. He was wildly dishevelled. His black boots and coat hem were splashed with mud, and his dark hair stuck out like a sinister halo.

Lord John knew that the duke rarely liked to take coaches. It appeared he had ridden the whole way to London on horseback, bursting in fresh from the ride.

"What the devil?" Lord John exclaimed at the sudden intrusion.

Without realising it, he took a protective step towards Miss Thatcher and Betsy near her feet. He looked at his brother and then back at Miss Thatcher to almost confirm that the duke had just stormed in without warning and was not, in fact, some strange apparition.

The terror on her face confirmed that he was not hallucinating. He watched Miss Thatcher's desperate attempts to cover up her forearms with her hands. It wasn't possible to cover the silver scars that ran down the lengths of both of them simultaneously.

Up until this point, Miss Thatcher had roamed the house free of any long arm-coverings. Lord John always kept roaring fires in all the rooms to keep the house warm. On occasion, she might keep her knitted shawl with her, but today had been too warm.

He wanted to take his own coat off in that instant and give it to her. He knew her scars were something she would rather keep hidden from most of the world. She had been safe and protected within the confined walls of his home. In an instant that was all ripped away.

"I entered the study assuming I would find you there working, but I see that isn't the case," the duke stated with his eyes scanning the room.

"What on earth are you doing here?" Lord John said, taking another step towards the females.

Miss Thatcher, recognising that this was Lord John's brother, motioned for Betsy to come to her and prepare to greet her relation.

"I've come for parliament, naturally. Did you think I would stay away for the whole year?" the duke scoffed. "And who is this?"

"I thought we agreed this house would be for my use. I was expecting privacy while I worked," Lord John countered, ignoring his brother’s question.

"Privacy?" the duke scoffed. "This doesn't look like privacy to me. It appears you are entertaining guests far more than applying yourself. Don't get me wrong, I care little if you squander your time. It only works to my benefit if you do."

"This is my ward and her governess, Miss Thatcher," Lord John stated with a tone. "They are not guests but members of this household."

"Governess? You have had time to find a governess for the child? Clearly,