When a Duke Loves a Governess (Unlikely Duchesses #3) - Olivia Drake Page 0,16
His Grace,” Tessa said in an elevated tone meant to be heard by little listening ears. “Meanwhile, if Lady Sophy wishes to scream herself hoarse, she’ll only lose her voice. It will be her own fault that she can no longer speak.”
It took only a moment for the tactic to show some degree of success, much to Tessa’s relief. The howling died down to loud snuffling and choked sobs. Sophy scrambled into a sitting position to scrub her eyes with the hem of her pinafore, pausing now and then to sneak a look up at her elders.
Tessa pretended not to notice as she untied the ribbons beneath her chin. “Lolly, will you please show me to my bedchamber? I’d like to put away my bonnet.”
While Winnie kept an eye on the girl, Tessa followed the older woman down a short passage and found herself in a cozy room tucked under the eaves. It was beautifully furnished with a single bed, a washstand, and a small desk made of polished oak. As she set the chip-straw atop a chest of drawers, her gaze was drawn to the window, where blue damask draperies framed a lovely view of the plane trees outside on the square. The leaves had begun to turn yellow and orange with the onset of autumn.
“’Tis a mighty fine bonnet, miss.”
“Thank you, I made it myself.” Noticing the maid’s puzzlement, Tessa quickly glossed over the unwitting remark. “Trimming hats is a little hobby of mine. My, this is a pretty room. The other governesses must have been reluctant to leave it.”
“All they done was grumble,” Lolly said, shaking her head. “Threadbare rug, a lumpy mattress, no bolt on the door.”
Tessa thought the lock would be useful to prevent nighttime mischief perpetrated by Lady Sophy but had no other objection once she’d sat on the bed to test it. The room even had a small fireplace, a luxury compared with her tiny, unheated flat. “I think it’s all perfectly comfortable. Do you suppose anyone will object if I leave for a short while to collect my trunk?”
“One o’ the grooms will fetch it if ye write out the directions. The duke would insist on it. ’Tis only right, ye bein’ one o’ the upper staff.”
“Upper? Do you mean upstairs?”
Lolly stared blankly. “Why, ’tis yer rank, Miss. Ye’re higher even than Jiggs and Roebuck. Them’s the duke’s valet and butler. I daresay ye be as high as Miss Knightley, Lady Victor’s companion.”
“Who is Lady Victor?”
“The duke’s aunt. But no mind, ye’ll learn soon enough who’s who.”
“My previous household was smaller,” Tessa said glibly. “I hope you’ll set me straight if I do anything wrong.”
“Aye, miss. If that’s all, I’ll see to milady now.”
Lolly dipped a respectful bob and departed, leaving Tessa alone in the bedchamber and feeling like a fish out of water. How peculiar to have someone curtsy to her—as if she were a born lady. Evidently, the post of governess put her in charge of the nursery servants. There were so many new things to learn about a ducal household that she’d best pay close attention.
But first, she must devise a plan to tame one sassy little girl.
* * *
Later that evening, Tessa stood listening outside Lady Sophy’s closed door. The angry wails of half an hour ago had gradually died away to stillness. The only sounds came from down the corridor, where the maids were finishing the task of tidying the nursery. To assure herself the girl was truly asleep, Tessa opened the door and peeked into the bedchamber.
A candle in a glass chimney cast pale light over a room decorated in rose and yellow, the colors muted by shadow. She blinked in surprise to see that the bedlinens were no longer heaped on the rug where Sophy had flung them in a fit of pique at bedtime. Tessa hadn’t allowed Lolly or Winnie to restore order here. Sophy had made the mess, so she could very well sleep on the floor.
But now alarm struck. Where was the girl? Tessa had once read in a tattered gothic novel about a castle with secret passageways. Had she inadvertently let the duke’s daughter escape?
She stepped inside to look around and was relieved to discover a small shape curled asleep in the gloom of the four-poster bed. Sophy had dragged the sheets back onto the mattress and wrapped herself in a cocoon of coverings. Her dark hair was spilled in disarray over the pillow, and her hand rested beside her mouth