When a Duke Loves a Governess (Unlikely Duchesses #3) - Olivia Drake Page 0,51
stark truth, however, was that she belonged in the nursery, not here among the Quality.
The nobs could stuff it, Tessa decided as she climbed the servants’ staircase. They took pride in the money and titles that had been granted to them by birth, while she preferred to take pride in what she earned through her own hard work. Someday, she would have her revenge by charging them exorbitant prices for her bonnets.
On that cheering thought, she entered the nursery. Lolly sat by the fire, mending one of Sophy’s pinafores. Seeing Tessa, the woman set aside her sewing and eased her stout frame out of the rocking chair.
“Lady Sophy is still fast asleep?” Tessa asked.
“Snug as a bug in a rug,” Lolly said, coming closer to hand over a note. “Winnie brung this up a while ago, miss. A young feller came to the kitchen door to deliver it to ye. I sat up to make sure ye got it.”
Mystified, Tessa took the paper. It was folded over several times and sealed with a blob of yellowish candle wax. “Thank you, Lolly. That’s very kind of you. Well, good night, then.”
The nursemaid peered expectantly as if hoping to discover the contents of the note, but Tessa desired privacy, for it could only have come from someone in her old life. She took a candle and made haste to her bedchamber. There, she carefully peeled off the hardened wax, unfolded the single sheet, and read the few scribbled lines. A frown instantly furrowed her brow.
Clutching the paper, she walked to the window and stared out into the darkness. Pinpricks of light gleamed in the neighboring town houses, and far below, the shadowy shapes of carriages waited around the square for the guests to depart Carlin House.
Tessa scarcely noticed the nighttime scene. Caught in a dilemma, she pondered the message from Orrin. His request would require her to break the rule forbidding servants to have visitors on the ducal property.
Lud, what was she to do?
Chapter 10
In the chill of the predawn darkness, Tessa picked her way through the shadowy garden. An autumnal mist draped the bushes and made it difficult for her to see the path. Shivering, she huddled into her old woolen shawl.
Despite the early hour, the servants were busy baking bread in the kitchen and laying fires to be lit when the family woke in a few hours. But out here, the world was dark and hushed. There was only the sleepy twitter of a bird high in the trees and the scrape of her shoes on the gravel.
Ahead of her loomed the ghostly rectangle of a door in the garden wall. She glanced back to make certain no one was watching from a window. She’d have some explaining to do if anyone—especially Carlin—saw her stealing into the mews like a thief in the night. Thankfully, the house was dark, including the conservatory, where the parrots would be tucked in their nests.
As she reached the gate, the black shape of a man materialized out of the shadows. Tessa yelped in surprise. An instant later, she blew out a sigh of relief. Although the gloom obscured his freckled features and rusty-red hair, she knew that compact figure.
“Orrin Nesbitt, you frightened me half to death.” She lowered her tone to a whisper. “You said you’d be waiting in the mews.”
He respectfully snatched off his flat cap. “A groom came out o’ the stables. So I hopped the fence t’ stay out o’ sight here.”
Yet they were in sight of the house, and that made her uneasy. “There’s a night watchman on the grounds, so we’d best be quick. Why did you wish to see me? Is it about my mother? Have you learned where she used to work?”
His note had merely asked Tessa to meet him at half past six. He’d offered no explanation. She’d almost declined to come until remembering that Orrin had offered to do some sleuthing on her behalf.
“I’ve been on your mam’s trail this past week,” Orrin confided. “I quizzed the kitchen staff at some two dozen fancy houses. Pretended t’ be the long-lost son of Florence James. But nobody recalled her from twenty-two years ago. At least so far, anyhow.”
His attempt touched Tessa’s heart. “Thank you. I do hope you realize, though, I never truly expected you to look for her.”
He waved away her gentle admonition. “I’d’ve found her already if it weren’t for me typesetter job at the paper. There’s hundreds more houses in Mayfair, but never