When a Duke Loves a Governess (Unlikely Duchesses #3) - Olivia Drake Page 0,103
had to report. According to kitchen chatter relayed by Winnie, His Grace had departed after luncheon today on some unknown errand. Now darkness had fallen, both nursemaids had retired to their bedchambers down the corridor, and Tessa had no idea if Carlin had ever returned.
Fear and frustration gnawed at her peace of mind. Although he’d taken a coachman and a footman, he could be in danger. It stood to reason that a killer who was bold enough to strike in a crowded amphitheater could devise some clever means to attack again. And Tessa could not rest until she had assured herself of his safe arrival home.
She set the book aside and picked up the pewter candle lamp. Going belowstairs to fetch a cup of tea would provide her with an excuse to make a casual inquiry. She would likely endure a few stares from the kitchen staff. Ever since she’d gone to Carlin’s bedchamber on the afternoon of the shooting, the other servants had taken to giving her curious looks, as if they suspected her of casting her lures at His Grace.
She had no intention of enlightening them that it was he who was pursuing her. Nothing was settled, anyway. She was still in a limbo of anxiety about her future. If she was so certain about her decision to leave Carlin House, then why did her heart feel ravaged at the prospect?
Because she loved Guy. She loved Sophy, too. Tessa could think of no worse fate than to lose them both. Yet she could see no other solution.
Pondering the dilemma, Tessa left the nursery. Immediately she spied the faint glow of a candle coming from the staircase at the end of the gloomy corridor. The approach of heavy male footsteps on the steps gave her a start. Carlin! Since the hour was past nine o’clock, it surely could be no one else.
Spurred by an unreasoning joy, she made haste down the carpeted passageway. It would be useless to dupe herself into thinking she sought only news from him when it was Carlin’s presence that she craved. She ached to put her arms around him, to reassure herself of his strength and vitality.
But the man who came around the bend at the top of the staircase wasn’t the duke, after all. It was his secretary.
She checked her pace before continuing toward him, forcing a smile to mask her disappointment. “Mr. Banfield. What brings you up here?”
He didn’t return her smile. The light of his candle wavered over his creased brow and the worried expression on his middle-aged face. “Miss James, I’m thankful that I found you so swiftly. You must come with me.”
“What’s wrong? Is it Carlin?”
“Yes, I fear His Grace has been injured again, this time with a knife. He’s waiting outside in his carriage, and he asked me to fetch you at once.”
Her heart lurched. It was exactly as she’d feared, the killer had struck again. “We must tell the footmen to bring him inside. And summon a doctor.”
As she started toward the stairs, Mr. Banfield motioned to her to follow him. “The servants’ staircase will be swifter. And His Grace said I was to bring only you, Miss James, and to not say a word to anyone else. Since he looked to be in a bad condition, I thought it best not to plague him with too many questions. This way.”
They went through a nondescript doorway and proceeded down a set of plain wooden steps. The house seemed preternaturally quiet. Lady Victor must have retired early, Avis Knightley would be with her, Mr. Edgar was still out of town, and Guy—oh, Guy was hurt and bleeding again.
As they reached the ground floor, she said, “Wait, we’ll need bandages.”
“There’s a footman already tending to the duke. The one who accompanied him today. Now hurry, there’s no time to waste.”
Mr. Banfield went out into the darkened garden. He paused only long enough to blow out his candle, leave it on a table, and take her glass-chimneyed lamp. Having expected the carriage to be parked in front of the house, she was a little surprised that it was at the back. But the mews would be more private if Carlin had some dire reason for secrecy.
“Do you know what happened?” she asked.
“Only that he had a fight with the Earl of Haviland.”
Lord Haviland! So he was the culprit, after all. Poor Avis, she would be devastated to learn that the charmer who had once swept her off her feet with