When a Duke Loves a Governess (Unlikely Duchesses #3) - Olivia Drake Page 0,11

could talk about your travels. Surely the swells would find your adventures abroad to be fascinating. I know I would.”

Guy had been inundated with invitations by scholars and academics to speak to their various organizations. He welcomed the chance to share his knowledge with those who truly appreciated it. Society was another matter. He was viewed as a curiosity, the duke who had spurned polite company in order to travel around the globe.

Yet maybe Miss James was right, and he ought to reconsider.

She went back to gaze again at the painting of the headdress. “The colors of the feathers are so brilliant,” she murmured, “especially the blues and yellows. Do you know what sort of dye was used on them?”

“None at all. They’re parrot feathers. In the tropics, parrots are as common as wrens and crows are here in England. In fact, I brought a few birds back with me. They make their home in the conservatory.”

“Conservatory?”

“It’s a large, glass-enclosed room with an indoor garden.”

Guy firmed his lips to stop an enthusiastic narrative about the orchids, bananas, and other tropical plants he’d imported to see if they could be coaxed to grow in England’s chillier climate. What had gotten into him that he would ramble on about his interests to a prospective employee? Especially a woman he scarcely knew and who might very well be inflating her employment experience. The fact that she’d never heard of a conservatory only confirmed her unfamiliarity with aristocratic households.

“Enough of these distractions,” he said, cooling his tone. “We were speaking of your lack of credentials.”

“Please, Your Grace, what harm can there be in allowing me a trial period?” Stepping closer, Miss James tilted up her chin to gaze earnestly into his face. “If Lady Sophy doesn’t show an improvement, then you’ll be justified in dismissing me. Won’t you at least give me a chance?”

Guy knew better than to trust a dewy-eyed look designed to charm. Yet Miss James wasn’t a flirtatious deb hoping to win the coronet of a duchess. Despite her woeful lack of references and the occasional trace of the common vernacular, she was just a woman who needed a job.

And he was a man caught in the thorns of desperation.

Whenever he visited Sophy in the nursery, her sulky petulance formed a wall between them. How had he ever thought his daughter would welcome him home with hugs and kisses after he’d abandoned her? She regarded him as a stranger because he was a stranger. And he hadn’t the slightest notion how to fix matters. Perhaps a fresh approach might work where other governesses had failed. If there was even a chance that Miss James could help, he’d be a fool to turn her away.

“All right, then, provided you can show me that letter, I’ll grant you one week.” Guy paused before adding grimly, “If you can last that long.”

Chapter 3

Giddy with success, Tessa followed the Duke of Carlin up the broad steps of the grand staircase. She had done it. She had convinced him to hire her. A jubilant smile tugged at her lips. With seven days in which to prove her worth, she fully intended to succeed where others had failed.

Their footsteps echoed in the vastness of the entrance hall. It was lucky the duke didn’t seem inclined toward conversation since she was busy gawking at her new home. Carlin House resembled her vision of a royal palace with its creamy marble pillars, life-sized portraits of his ancestors, and a massive crystal chandelier that sparkled like diamonds in the slanting rays of the late-afternoon sun. The footmen on duty were outfitted in the same elegant gold and blue as the decor. Even the balustrade and woodwork were lavishly encrusted in gilt.

Did her father own such a magnificent home, too?

The question was a sobering reminder of her reason for seeking the position of governess. Her maidservant mother had borne a child by a lord, the man whose crest was engraved on her pendant. He surely lived here in Mayfair with all the other swells. For all Tessa knew, he could be just around the corner.

Or he could be long dead.

The only way to find out was to proceed with her plan to look for his coat of arms while she took Lady Sophy on strolls around the neighborhood. Meanwhile, it was vital that no one guess her secret—especially the Duke of Carlin.

As he led her along an ornate corridor and up another staircase, she studied him from behind. Carlin had a