He flashed her a smile that could only be described as feral. “Yes, everything that happens within these walls is precisely as I wish. Endeavor to remember that, Miss Governess.”
Without warning, he released his grip upon the rodent’s tail, leaving her with a fistful of dead mouse that slapped into the modest fall of her gown. The weight of the thing, lifeless and lumpy like a small sausage, was enough to make her suppress a gag. “I will recall that, Your Grace. Thank you, sir.”
When she would have left, he stopped her. “I have not yet dismissed you, Miss Governess. Do not think to flee now that you have the mouse in hand.”
Jacinda ground her molars together and forced a polite smile to her lips at the same time. She would not allow him to see how much he affected her. How much his arrogance enraged her. “I do beg your pardon, Duke.”
“You are forgiven your haste this once, but be advised, I do not tolerate disrespect from any of my servants. From this moment forward, you will not depart from my presence unless you have asked and I have given you leave to do so. Am I understood?”
“Perfectly, Your Grace,” she answered through gritted teeth. Just barely, she stifled the urge to ask him if it was permissible for her to breathe without his approval.
“Excellent. You are dismissed now.” He sent her another savage smile. “I shall see you and my sisters at dinner.”
She offered a one-handed curtsy, still clutching the mouse in her right hand. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
As she carried her unwanted burden away and escaped from the room and his arrogant presence, she could not help but be grateful for the icy detachment Whitley had treated her with this morning. She must never again allow him such familiarity or liberties with her person. To do so would only invite ruin and shame. Last night had been an aberration that would never be repeated, one she ascribed to the darkness and her shock at being discovered.
Far too much was at stake. She could not—nay, she would not—let Father down.
Frowning, she marched back to the schoolroom, holding the mouse carcass outstretched as she went. Lady Constance and Lady Honora were devils in skirts, but she was anything if not determined. Once given a task, it was her nature to not only complete it but to see it accomplished to the very best of her ability. A true governess she may not be, but she did have her own share of backbone.
The pair of minxes in her charge were not going to avoid repercussions for their little prank. Up the stairs and down the hall she went, her mind formulating her battle strategy. She, too, could be positively Machiavellian when the need arose.
Apparently, the hoydens had believed they had managed to scare her off for the rest of the morning, for when she threw open the schoolroom door, they were giggling, each bearing a salver tucked beneath her arm.
“My ladies,” she snapped, lifting the napkin-enshrouded creature in her hand and shaking it in their direction. “I do believe you left something behind in the breakfast room this morning.”
Their giggles died in unison, eyes going wide. They had the same unique gray eyes as the duke, and it truly was disconcerting staring at that gaze in female form. Jacinda shook herself from the thought and gave the dead mouse another shake. “Well? Have neither of you anything to say for yourselves?”
The girls shared a wide-eyed glance, almost as if to express their mutual disbelief they had been caught. It was apparent to Jacinda that Lady Constance and Lady Honora had been running wild and running the household both. Belowstairs was rife with talk of the previous duke if one was clever and knew when and where to listen. Whitley’s brother had been a drunkard with little time to spare for his sisters, who in the absence of parents, entertained themselves by making mischief.
But their past did not excuse their abominable behavior, and here was her line to draw. They could either reach an understanding, or she would begin to retaliate.
She assessed them with a calm she did not feel. “If neither of you shall tell me who placed this dead mouse at His Grace’s chair, I shall cut it in two and place one half upon each of your pillows.”
Lady Constance’s brows shot upward. “You would not dare to do such a thing.”
“Maintain your silence and your defiance and we shall see.” Jacinda gave the girls her most menacing frown. “You have until the count of five to unburden yourselves. One. Two. Three. F—”
“We both did it,” Lady Honora admitted, her expression turning sheepish. “Con stole the mouse from Cook’s trap in the kitchens and then she distracted the footmen and Nicholson whilst I left it upon the table.”
“Excellent.” A triumphant smile chased away her frown. “Come along with me, then, both of you.”
Lady Constance’s expression grew wary. “Where are we going?”
She quirked a brow. “We are holding a mouse funeral, and the two of you shall be doing the honors. I do hope you know where to find a spade. Now who wishes to carry the unfortunate thing? I believe I have had quite enough of carrying him about.”
“You are the youngest,” Lady Honora told her sister. “You carry it.”
Naturally, Lady Constance protested. “But I already carried it through the kitchens and all the way through the house to Crispin’s seat at the table.”
“My ladies,” she interrupted. “Time is wasting, and soon this wretch will begin to stink.”
“Oh, very well,” Lady Constance grumbled, flouncing forward to accept Jacinda’s offering.
Jacinda’s smile grew, a feeling of immense satisfaction blossoming inside her. Now this, at least, was progress.
Chapter Five
