When a Duke Loves a Governess (Unlikely Duchesses #3) - Olivia Drake Page 0,99

I have been kept very much in the dark!”

Leaning on Tessa’s arm, his aunt went out of the bedchamber. Banfield also departed, as did Marbury, leaving Guy alone to sort through his tangled thoughts.

Rubbing his brow, he knew he’d sunk deeper into the suds with Tessa. Now she would be forced to enlighten Aunt Delia. Tessa would be grilled on her relationship with him and quizzed on her fictitious life in Canada—and she would resent him all the more for landing her in such an awkward spot.

Yet as troubling as that situation might be, it was the least of his worries.

He leaned back on the chaise and strove to ignore his throbbing arm. The shooting today had been no fluke. For whatever reason, someone had deliberately attempted to murder him. It unnerved him to think that Tessa or Sophy might have moved in the way of that bullet.

Finding the gunman had to be his top priority. He must dig deeper, discover the whereabouts of suspects like Churchford and Symonton when the incident had occurred. In addition, he must take a closer look at all who had attended that lecture. And he must not discount the possibility, either, that today’s attack was related to the other deaths in his family.

That would certainly broaden the scope of his investigation.

Yet his morbid reflections kept returning to one man in particular. Had it been Haviland, his old friend, behind the jester’s mask? Had the earl’s addiction to gambling driven him to take such a drastic step to acquire the treasure map? It was time to discover the full extent of Haviland’s debts.

* * *

The following morning, Tessa headed downstairs in answer to a summons from the duke. She had left Sophy in high spirits, happy to abandon her arithmetic lesson in favor of playing circus with Winnie. Tessa’s spirits were high, too, from an eagerness to release her simmering anger at him.

She was still seething at his audacity in duping her grandfather into believing an engagement was imminent. Carlin had placed her in an untenable position, forcing her to fob off Lady Victor yesterday with a promise to confide in her later. Tessa had been greatly tempted to return to the ducal suite the previous evening to confront him. Only a thought for propriety and compassion for his injury had stopped her.

But today he surely would be improved, and she needn’t suffer the slightest reluctance about giving him a piece of her mind. He had to tell her grandfather the truth—and swiftly. Today, if possible, before Lord Marbury concocted more plans to pave her path into society.

Tessa paused outside the library and marshaled her thoughts. One thing was certain, Carlin must not be permitted to orchestrate her future. Not even if he played the charmer, buttering her up with compliments and flattery and melting looks. His purpose was to cajole her into accepting the marriage offer that he viewed as his gentlemanly duty.

Braced for battle, she stepped into the sunlit library. The shelves of tooled-leather books looked as appealing as they had on that glorious night when Carlin had kissed her here for the first time. As duchess, she could devote her life to the pleasure of reading all of these works. The thought held her transfixed, and only with effort did Tessa drag her mind back to reality.

She wanted to be a hatmaker, not a lady of leisure.

The duke was seated by the window, his frowning attention focused on the newspaper he was perusing. Daylight gleamed on his raven-dark hair and put his harshly handsome features into sharp relief. He wore a loose jacket in a dark bottle green rather than a tight-fitting coat that would have been difficult to don over a bulky bandage. With his left arm in a sling, he cut a dashing figure, and her wayward heart lurched, beset by a rush of longing.

She clamped down a rise of warmth and glided purposefully toward him. “Good morning, Carlin. I hope you’re feeling well today. No fever, I trust?”

He looked up to observe her approach. Rather than the suave smile and alluring eyes that she’d prepared herself to resist, his mouth formed a thin line, and his gaze held a steely glint that nearly made her falter. “I was considerably better,” he said coolly, “until I saw this.”

Tessa took the newspaper that he thrust at her. With a quiver of shock, she recognized it as the tabloid where Orrin worked as a typesetter. Her gaze widened on the front-page article