When a Duke Loves a Governess (Unlikely Duchesses #3) - Olivia Drake Page 0,91

remain in his employ much longer. Although she loved Guy, the man who had kissed her with such tender passion, she bitterly resented the stern duke who viewed marriage to her as a duty. Ever since her rejection of his callous offer, he had attempted to charm her with books and cream buns. But it was all pretense designed to cajole her into doing his bidding. She would not be duped into accepting him for anything less than love.

And perhaps not even that was enough.

Even if he pledged his undying devotion to her, wedding Carlin had one insurmountable obstacle. It required her to be a duchess. She would become mistress of this grand house, the recipient of bows and curtsies, the receiver of noble visitors, the hostess of balls and dinner parties and who knew what else? She would be pitchforked from the bottom rung of the social ladder all the way to the pinnacle. The very thought was unnerving.

Besides, his cavalier dismissal of her dreams still smarted. Becoming a shop owner can hardly compare to becoming a lady. Of course you must give it all up.

She knew that a career of any sort was forbidden to a duchess. The swells despised even a whiff of trade among its exalted members. Yet all she had ever wanted was to design hats, to own her own millinery, and as the wife of a duke, she would be barred from doing so.

That quandary flew from her mind as she saw Carlin favoring his left arm while carefully mounting the grand staircase. Roebuck shadowed him, and she hastened to follow the two men up the marble steps. For now, nothing else mattered but the need to see to Carlin’s health and comfort.

Jiggs met them at the top of the stairs. With his eye patch and leathery skin, his short legs planted wide, he resembled a miniature pirate. “Well, ain’t ye a pretty sight, Duke? Sent ye off t’ the circus an’ ye come back half dead.”

“Pray don’t hasten my death with any of your blasted remedies.”

“Ye were grateful for ’em that time ye got poisonous sap on yer hand. Darn near blistered yer skin right off.”

“The manchineel tree in Mexico.” Carlin gave a strained chuckle. “And you were grateful when I saved you from being eaten by that shark near Australia. A tough little morsel you’d have been.”

They continued to trade outrageous insults as Jiggs badgered him down the corridor. In the midst of her anxiety, Tessa had to bite her lip to stop the unseemly urge to laugh. The situation was far from amusing, but they did look ridiculous, with tall, broad Carlin leaning on the gnome-like Jiggs.

As they disappeared through an open doorway, Roebuck marched close at their heels. He turned to close the door, but Tessa stuck her foot into the opening, earning herself a rare scowl from the usually stoic butler. “Miss James! You cannot enter the master’s bedchamber.”

She conjured a haughty duchess stare. “I was present when His Grace was shot, and I intend to see to his care. Now step aside.”

“Certainly not. That would be beyond the pale.”

“Let her in,” Carlin called out. “When Miss James gets a bee in her bonnet, there’s no sense trying to stop her.”

Tessa sailed past the perturbed butler, though an antechamber, and into a splendid room fit for a duke. The furnishings were heavy and masculine with chests and tables and a writing desk. Dominating the chamber was a canopied four-poster bed—on a dais, no less—with royal blue hangings and gold silk fringe. A shield above the headboard displayed the Carlin coat of arms, an eagle with outspread wings, flying ribbons, and a ducal coronet.

Carlin sat on a chaise near the hearth, where a maidservant was pumping a bellows to coax the glowing coals into flames. Jiggs had untied the makeshift bandage and was now tugging off the duke’s coat, which Carlin tolerated with a clenched jaw.

A footman delivered a pitcher of hot water, while another brought a quantity of rolled lint along with linen bandages. Both servants found reason to dawdle, no doubt hoping to learn news to relay belowstairs. Mrs. Womble, the stout housekeeper, scurried in with a basket containing a variety of ointments, salves, and other mysterious bottles, and immediately started touting their various restorative properties.

Tessa stood off to the side, wishing there were a service she could contribute to justify her barging in here. Removing her bonnet, she tied knots in the ribbons out of a desire