When a Duke Loves a Governess (Unlikely Duchesses #3) - Olivia Drake Page 0,79
curve of one breast. From his present perspective, the firelight perfectly illuminated the tiny coat of arms.
Suddenly jarred, he picked up the pendant to examine the engraving more closely. “I forgot all about this. But I believe I saw this insignia tonight.”
Tessa came alert. “Are you sure?”
“There’s one way to find out.”
He stepped into his breeches and hastened to the desk, where he sat down and began to page through the thick heraldry book.
Tessa came hurrying to his side. It did not escape his notice that she had drawn on her gown without bothering with undergarments. Nor could he be unaware of her tantalizing scent and tempting closeness. But his keen interest in her must be set aside until he’d untangled this mystery.
He focused his attention on the book. “What is unique about your pendant is the griffins. At first glance the other day, I mistook them for dragons. Because of the wings, you see.”
“The wings?”
“In heraldry, the English usually portray the griffin with the wings closed. But on yours, the wings are open.” He glanced up at her. “Would you mind very much to remove the pendant so that I might see it better?”
Tessa drew the necklace over her head and placed it on mahogany surface of the desk, where it lay bathed in the glow of the candelabrum.
In short order, he found the proper page and used the magnifying glass to compare the sketch to the pendant. “Yes, by God, these are one and the same. There are the winged griffins on either side, the crossed swords, the coronet at the top, and at the bottom, the motto, VIRTUS.”
“Whose is it?” Tessa asked, leaning over in an attempt to view the fine print.
Guy stared down at the family name. He found it highly unlikely that this elderly lord could be Tessa’s father. Surely the fellow was too much the stuffy Puritan to have sired a child out of wedlock. Perhaps the pendant had come into her mother’s hands by some other means.
He lifted his troubled gaze to Tessa. “The coat of arms belongs to one of my grandfather’s old political cronies. The Marquess of Marbury.”
“The Marquess of Marbury,” she repeated in a reverent tone. A stunned smile on her lips, she fell into the chair on the other side of the desk. “Oh, Guy. I can scarcely believe it. You’ve found my father.”
He hardly knew how to reply. Tessa had looked forward to this discovery for a long time. It was the very reason she’d taken the post of governess in his house. Yet he couldn’t bear to think of her being sorely disappointed.
He reached across the desk to enfold her dainty hand, rubbing his thumb across the back. “Tessa, you can count on my help in this matter, but I also must warn you. Marbury is the very definition of a curmudgeon. He’s an elderly recluse who may deny ever knowing your mother.”
“He can’t deny it. Not when I have the pendant as proof.”
“Then he may accuse her—or even you—of stealing it. And even if you do convince him, he’s tight-fisted. He’s not likely to be willing to fork over funds for your millinery shop.”
A martial light lit her eyes. “We’ll see about that.”
Despite her confidence, Guy couldn’t shake the worry that Marbury would reject Tessa as his bastard daughter. By God, he must do everything in his power to keep the marquess from breaking her heart.
Chapter 15
The following morning, after placating Sophy with a promise to read her an extra story upon her return, Tessa made her escape from the nursery. Carlin’s note had given her little time to prepare. Fearing to be late, she raced down the servants’ staircase and arrived at the entrance hall to see him approaching from the opposite corridor with his secretary.
The duke afforded her a distracted nod. “Have those papers ready for my signature upon my return.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Mr. Banfield took one glance at Tessa’s shawl and bonnet, and his gray eyes sharpened. “Miss James is to go out with you?”
“Yes.”
“Might I inquire as to your destination?”
“No, you may not.”
As Carlin turned to accept his curled beaver hat and tan gloves from Roebuck, Tessa was thankful that he’d dismissed secretary’s intrusive question. She was acutely aware of the butler’s slight elevation of one starchy eyebrow, and Mr. Banfield’s more obvious disapproval. Clearly, it was unfitting for a duke to set forth with his daughter’s governess. Though neither man could know about that tryst the previous evening, nor about