as well. He had to restrain the powerful impulse to kiss her, to brand her as his and make her forget all other men. Especially one in particular.
“What does he do for a living?”
She blinked. “Who?”
“This Nesbitt fellow.”
“He’s a typesetter. Though I don’t see why it should matter to you.”
Guy opened the door to let Tessa precede him into the house. It was a leveling notion to discover that she preferred a common workman to him. Yet it was odd, too. No genteel lady would kiss a man of the lower orders—especially not with such passionate gusto.
“Of course it matters,” he said tersely. “You’re my daughter’s governess. If this man is your beau, I should know something of his character. It also makes me wonder, did you enter my employ under false pretenses?”
She stopped dead in the corridor. In the flickering light of a sconce, her fine features wore a startled, almost guilty expression. “Why do you ask?”
“Don’t dissemble, Tessa. Are you or are you not planning to marry him?”
“Oh!” she said on breathy note. “You mean Orrin.”
“Who else would I have meant?” He shook his head, irked that they seemed to be talking in circles. “If you were already affianced when you accepted a position in my house, then you’ve done a grave disservice to Sophy. She’s grown fond of you and she’ll be distraught when you leave here.”
“I wasn’t. Engaged, I mean.”
“And what about now? That kiss appeared entirely too fervent for mere friends. I deserve to be told if you’re intending to turn in your notice soon.”
Tessa parted her lips and stared at him, her fingers twisting the fringe of her shawl. The blue of her eyes held a peculiar haunted quality. “I…”
Her gaze shifted to peer past him. Only then did he hear the hurried approach of footsteps along the corridor. Guy turned to see Banfield striding toward them. The secretary exuded an unusually agitated air as he made a quick bow.
His gray eyes flicked to Tessa, in particular to Guy’s hand on her arm. “Your Grace, if I might have a word in private.”
It was unlike Banfield to neglect to say good morning. Something was clearly disturbing the man. But Guy had no intention of letting Tessa off the hook until he had satisfactory answers to her puzzling behavior.
“Wait for me in my study,” he told the secretary. “I’ll be there shortly.”
“I’m afraid this is too urgent a matter for any delay,” Banfield said grimly. “You see, a thief broke in during the night and ransacked your study.”
Chapter 11
Heading down the marble corridor, Tessa half ran to keep up with the long strides of the men. Carlin’s already taut features had turned even harsher at the news. A thief! She would have been hot on his heels even without his hand on her arm, towing her along at his side. What could have been stolen?
The only bright spot, she reflected guiltily, was that the robbery had distracted him from that disaster in the garden. She ought never to have gone out to meet Orrin. It had been a mistake from start to finish. And now the duke rightfully suspected that she was up to something.
Lud, what would he say if he learned that she’d come to Carlin House under false pretenses? That she had planned all along to leave his employ once she’d identified her father? Her mind had gone blank at his accusation of duplicity, and she hadn’t been able to come up with a ready excuse. She felt miserable even to imagine how he’d despise her if he knew the truth. It was becoming harder and harder to continue the deception. And to complicate matters, he’d forced her to face another uncomfortable fact.
You’ve done a grave disservice to Sophy. She’s grown fond of you and she’ll be distraught when you leave here.
In the beginning, Tessa hadn’t imagined her departure would be any different from that of all the other governesses who had come and gone. Yet now that she knew Sophy better, had learned the cause of her bad behavior, and had seen a steady improvement in her, the situation had been radically altered. She had come to care for the motherless girl who had been raised to believe her father hated her.
Tessa’s heart felt steeped in a brew of worry and regret. What would happen if—when—she left Carlin House? Would the next governess even attempt to repair the broken relationship between the duke and his daughter? There was no guarantee, and that