When a Duke Loves a Governess (Unlikely Duchesses #3) - Olivia Drake Page 0,30

illusion of being transported to the moist heat of a rain forest. Palm fronds brushed the glass roof amid a tangle of vines and other lush shrubs. Sunlight dappled the flagstone path that meandered through the greenery, and stone benches were scattered here and there to provide spots to enjoy the view.

“Did you bring all these plants back from your travels?” Miss James asked in wonderment, her neck craned as she scanned the foliage.

“A good number of them. My grandmother had the palms installed many years ago, along with the orange trees and camellias. She liked to hold garden parties out here in the autumn and early spring.”

“But how did she keep the place warm? Surely it would take half a dozen fireplaces, and I don’t see even one.”

“She commissioned an architect to design a network of steam pipes under the floor, as the Romans of old used to do. There’s a furnace to stoke the fire in the cellar. Between that and the smudge pots, the air remains quite tropical even in winter.”

Her face glowed as she looked around the conservatory. “Lud, I never dreamed such a thing was even possible.”

Lud. Odd that an East End dialect would creep into her refined speech from time to time. He sensed there was much more to Miss James than met the eye. Yet perhaps her past was best left a mystery. His primary concern must be her ability to help him to ease Sophy’s mistrust.

Miss James returned her gaze to him. She truly had the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. Fringed by long lashes, they reminded him of the deep cerulean depths of the ocean. “Am I correct, then,” she said, “to think that it was your grandmother who inspired your love for plants?”

The observation startled Guy. He hadn’t ever considered it, but she was right. “Yes, I suppose so. As a boy, I’d often sneak in here and play explorer among the undergrowth.”

Much to his grandfather’s displeasure. By contrast, the duchess had applauded Guy’s antics and had encouraged him to use his imagination. His grandmother had died when he was ten, and now he felt a twinge of wistful regret at the loss of her vibrant charm and unreserved love. She had been a mother to him since his own had passed away when he’d been too young to remember.

Sophy tugged on Miss James’s skirt. “Where are the parrots?”

“Perhaps they’re hiding among the leaves.” Her eyes flashed an appeal to Guy. “Your papa can tell you.”

“They’re often hard to spot, especially the ones with green feathers,” he told Sophy. “You have to look very hard, for they often roost up in the trees.”

Even as he scanned the foliage, a sudden hammering broke the aura of peace. The loud banging emanated from across the conservatory and stopped almost immediately. But not before a flurry of wings erupted into the air.

Disturbed by the noise, a dozen birds flew hither and yon in the sunshine. Their raucous cries filled the warm air. Guy enjoyed the delight on the governess’s face as well as Sophy’s.

His daughter watched with eyes like saucers. “Look, Miss James! They’re such pretty colors!”

“How different they are from our dull little wrens and pigeons,” she marveled. “Why, they look as if they’re all dressed up for a fancy ball.”

“Or maybe a circus.”

“A bird circus! Now, that would be a sight to see.”

Amused by their nonsense, Guy pointed at one that had alighted on a nearby branch. “See that big one with the red head and the blue-and-yellow wings? It’s called a macaw. They’re larger than the other parrots.”

Miss James studied it. “They also appear to have longer tail feathers.”

“An excellent observation.” He was impressed that she took such an interest when the young ladies he’d known in society would be squealing and clinging to him for protection from the gliding birds.

“What do they eat?” she asked.

“Seeds and fruit, as they do in the wild. I’ve made their new home here resemble their natural habitat as closely as possible.”

“Where are they from?”

“Guiana in South America, the last stop on my voyage before I returned to England.” He’d arranged for several mail drops at various places around the globe. At the British consul’s office in Georgetown, he’d picked up the packet of letters containing the news of his grandfather’s death.

Just then, Sophy began to creep toward a smaller orange bird with a crest on its head that had perched on a rhododendron bush. Miss James took a step as if to stop