“Your Grace, as announced, I am Miss Maribel Lewisham and here for the role of governess. Shall we sit?”
Before he could respond, she walked towards the desk, her short legs taking long, confident strides against the floor. Thomas shook his head in disbelief.
Who did this chit think she was, addressing him so cooly and with such evident disapproval?
He stomped towards the desk, sat in the chair opposite her, and glowered. The impertinent woman did not even blink. Her warm chestnut eyes held his gaze.
“How old are you?”
“I am twenty years.”
“What experience do you have? If any.”
“I have no experience working for an employer, however I have played governess to my younger brothers, as well as to three elder, which I assure you only strengthened my resolve.”
“Where did you learn and study?”
“I spent time in Bath with Miss Francine Porter, an esteemed governess who provides training, and I also received a fairly advanced education as a child.”
“What can you teach?”
“I can teach fluent French, reading and writing skills, simple arithmetic, many historical topics, and for the young lady, needlepoint, water painting, and all social expectations.”
“Do you have any other skills? Musical perhaps?
His daughter had gone through many a piano teacher, and he was determined to see her master at least one instrument.
“I do not possess any natural talent, but I can teach the pianoforte.”
Her tone was polite but the answers were direct, firm. It was as if she was a teacher and he was a student in this exchange. The only thing keeping him from reprimanding her for her lack of civil address was his recognition of her comportment. Perhaps she would be able to handle his daughter after all.
“If I may, Your Grace, can I have some details about your daughter. What is her name and age?”
Her tone implied she found it improper that he had not yet provided this information. That same air he had been momentarily impressed with now induced annoyance.
“My daughter’s name is Clara. She is seven. Is there anything else you need to know, Miss Lewisham?”
The slight pink tinge that touched her cheeks gratified him. Finally, a sliver of a reaction. Looking her over, he spied what appeared to be luscious curves under her muted clothing.
“Do you have any other questions?”
“Am I permitted to bring my cat?”
His jaw dropped. She wants to bring a cat? He could not stand felines. They had a smug, entitled air about them. His mother had owned one, and he had hated the damn species ever since. “You may not.”
He had not meant to sound so cold and stiff, noting her lips had pressed into a thin line at his response.
“As you wish, Your Grace.”
Refraining from clearing his throat to relieve the awkward silence, he stood.
“Consider yourself employed, Miss Lewisham. Someone will attend to you shortly.”
Striding out of the room, he again had to stop himself, this time from looking back. He could feel her sharp gaze boring into him as he closed the door behind him. She had provoked something in him—a heady mix of excitement and frustration—and it suddenly dawned on him that perhaps hiring a governess who stirred his loins was not a wise decision.
Chapter Three
The door had closed gently, but it had left a cacophony ringing through her head as she stared at the spot where he had exited. Duke or not, Thomas Denby was an extremely rude man. His handsomeness was no consolation for his poor manners. The streaks of grey in his dark hair only made him more attractive, she begrudgingly admitted to herself. And Maribel could plainly see that this man had never heard the words no or be nice in his life. His glower was indeed quite haughty, but she had received far worse from Mr Whiskers. And thinking of her precious boy, she could not help but feel crushed at the thought of being parted from him. How could she possibly explain? He was far more intelligent than any other of his species and would surely see returning home as a betrayal. This opportunity to work for a duke, no matter how disagreeable, was too good to pass up. She would have to accept it.
