When a Duke Loves a Governess (Unlikely Duchesses #3) - Olivia Drake Page 0,5

was it that Mrs. Ludington had added?

A man cannot spend so many years sailing around the world to remote lands without forgetting the finer points of proper behavior. Heaven only knows what peculiar customs he might have acquired.

Tessa felt a tingle of curiosity as her natural optimism rose to the fore. “You needn’t fret. Sukie showed me how to use my knee to hit a man where it hurts him the most.”

Orrin winced slightly. “I still don’t like it. If ’tis funds you need, I can track down your pa an’ then threaten t’ write an article exposing his sins unless he pays you a goodly sum.”

“Lud, Orrin, that’s blackmail! I won’t see you locked in Newgate on my behalf.” Tessa didn’t intend to use criminal methods to bring her sire up to snuff. If, that is, she managed to identify him. Out of curiosity, she added, “How would you go about looking for him, anyway?”

“By askin’ at all the big houses. One of the staff might recollect a maid named Florence James.”

“That would have been over twenty years ago. More likely than not, you’d be tossed out on your ear.”

“Bah, I’ve a nose for digging up the truth.” Orrin tapped his freckled beak. “Only look how quick I found out who nicked Mrs. Beasley’s mutt.”

“It was very enterprising of you to uncover that dognapping ring.”

“What’s more, the story got printed. I brung you a copy.” Beaming, he took the newspaper from under his arm, flipped to the last page, and poked an ink-stained finger at a small article near the bottom. “See there? My first published piece.”

Tessa scanned the few lines, noticing that the lurid headline lacked an attribution. “Orrin, that’s wonderful. Congratulations!”

“No byline as yet, but I’m hopin’ t’ have one soon. All’s I need is a big story. Mayhap you’ll keep your eyes open for me, eh? There must be lots o’ lords like your pa who are up t’ their ears in scandals.” He slid her a moony, tail-wagging look. “I won’t always be a lowly typesetter, you know. Once I make staff reporter, I’ll be able t’ support a wife an’ children.”

Tessa suffered a momentary pang for a family of her own. Ever since losing Mama, she’d felt the occasional stab of loneliness, a yearning to have someone to love. Yet she had no compelling desire to marry Orrin—or any other man, for that matter. Being beholden to a husband would thwart her dream of opening a millinery shop. Perhaps that was why she felt so reluctant to enlist his aid. She didn’t wish to feel obliged to accept his offer.

“That’s a fine ambition,” she said, smiling to soften her rejection. “But you mustn’t expect me to pass along gossip about my employer. Now I really must be on my way.”

Orrin agreed to keep Tessa’s trunk until she could send for it. As they moved it downstairs to his flat, she ignored his frowning look. She couldn’t bear another word of his naysaying.

Especially when she was already a quivering mass of nerves.

Chapter 2

Guy Whitby, the seventh Duke of Carlin, sat at his desk and tried to concentrate on the packet of papers forwarded by his steward. It didn’t help his restless state of mind that he felt like an interloper in the study that had once been his grandfather’s domain.

The cavernous room featured gilded moldings and green silk damask hangings, with busts of poets and philosophers on the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. He’d hung a number of framed botanical paintings from his travels, but the place still didn’t quite feel like his own. Every piece of furniture was oversized and uniquely designed to flaunt the eminence of the master. Even the massive desk rested on the outstretched wings of a carved eagle, a tribute to the Carlin family crest.

On the polished mahogany surface before him lay proposals for improving drainage in the west pasture, purchasing a new bull for the herd of milchers, rethatching the roofs of the tenant cottages, and a host of other issues relating to his ducal seat in Derbyshire.

Guy grimaced. How naïve of him to imagine he could devote the afternoon to working on the book he hoped to publish about his four-year voyage around the world. Since his return, there had been an endless stream of legal documents, investment summaries, and detailed reports on the several estates he had inherited—all of them involving problems that required informed decisions. To make matters worse, heavy taxes due to the recent war had eaten into

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