He wished for another glass of whisky—it had been nearly twelve hours since his last sip of poison—and made a dismissive gesture. “Sit, Miss Governess.”
Her lips tightened, as if in censure. She did not do as he ordered. “Your Grace, I am heartily glad you requested this audience, for we have much to discuss. If I may be so bold, I cannot help but think your actions have a direct impact upon the behavior of your sisters.”
Bold?She was bloody beyond the pale. Did the woman think to chastise him? He had requested her presence so he could give her the setdown she so richly deserved. His sisters were still hellions, and he could see no improvement in their comportment, save from the fact they had not ridden to breakfast down the staircase on salvers or hidden rodent carcasses by his breakfast plate.
He gave her a ducal sneer, the sort that usually made unwanted interlopers disappear from his path. “Sit, madam.”
Color blossomed in her cheeks. She sat slowly and primly, as if she were reluctantly seating herself upon a garden bench encrusted in bird offal. “Lady Constance and Lady Honora should not be aware of your… your…”
Her fluster was adorable, and it somehow deflated his ire. Still, he could not resist the opportunity to further her discomposure. He sat, for he could not politely stand in her presence, and even soulless bastards like him could recall their manners now and again.
“I beg your pardon?” A wolfish grin curved his lips. “My what, Miss Governess? I confess I had not previously realized you possessed a stutter. Though it grieves me to say this, I am not certain my sisters ought to be instructed by a female who cannot speak her mind without needless repetition.”
“I do not have a stutter, Your Grace,” she snapped, the flush overtaking her entire face until her creamy skin was tinged a delectable shade of pink. Not even her ears were exempt. “I am simply searching for a polite means of relaying what I wish to say.”
He frowned at her, recalling his reason for requiring this private audience. “Miss Governess, I did not require your presence in my study so you could berate me. Let us consider it best that you cannot find your errant tongue.”
“Mrs. Notley,” she said on a rush, full lips still pressed into a fine line of condemnation. “Surely you cannot think it proper for your impressionable, innocent sisters to know of such a woman’s existence, never mind her name.”
“Mrs. Nulty,” he corrected smoothly, wondering if she had intentionally gotten the demimondaine’s name confused. Miss Turnbow was as sharp as a bayonet. He could see it in her eyes, read it in her every interaction. Her intelligence did not escape him. It intrigued him.Sheintrigued him.
“Precisely.” She busied herself with settling the fall of her dreadful skirt, avoiding his gaze. “The female in question ought not to be known to your sisters. I hope they have never made her acquaintance.”
Of course he had not introduced his sisters to the woman. Did Miss Governess think him a complete blackguard? His outrage dimmed when the conscience he had believed long dead reminded him he had entertained Mrs. Nulty—and some of her fellow actresses—in his townhome whilst his sisters were in residence. The woman was as beautiful as she was proficient at—
No.He stifled that vein of thought. The only pertinent fact was he did not dabble in mistresses. He had never offered Mrs. Nulty or any other femalecarte blanche. Given his notoriety and reputation, scandal sheets and town gossips tended to run rampant with falsehoods.
Falsehoods that had somehow reached the eager ears and eyes of Con and Nora. By God, he knew not how the little minxes managed to find such nonsense. They were more effective at getting what they wished than a phalanx of enemy soldiers.
Even so, the tone Miss Governess had taken, coupled with her attempt to control their dialogue, peeved him. He planted his hands upon the polished surface of his desk and leaned forward, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I must wonder at your fretfulness, Miss Governess. Why should Mrs. Nulty concern you? I would hate to think your remonstration is grounded in envy.”
Sherry eyes flashed at him, the only sign of her pique. “Rest assured I do not envy such a creature. My sole interest is the wellbeing and reputations of my charges, Lady Constance and Lady Honora.”
“As is mine.” Irritation surged. “That is the reason I required this audience, Miss Governess.”
She straightened in her seat. “Perhaps you would care to enlighten me, Your Grace?”
Even now, her daring aroused him as much as it irritated him. Who did she think she was to speak thus to the Duke of Whitley, the man who paid her wages and provided the bed in which she slept? “You have been in my employ for twelve days.”
“Eleven,” she corrected.
He snorted. “Do you wish for this to be the last day, Miss Governess? I could dismiss you without reference.”
Her chin went up in defiance. Ah, there it was, her true self. The one she could not hide behind her mud-brown gowns and yards of lace. “Do you want to sack me, Your Grace?”
Yes, for then he would never need to see her again. He could forget about her and remove the lust that threatened to consume him like a diseased appendage. And perhapshisparticular appendage would once more be capable of functioning as it ought.
Also, no, because it would mean he would never get to feel her beneath him once more or to strip her of all that ugly cloth and her godawful cap. Or to kiss a path straight from her rose-pink lips to her cunny.
What would she taste like? Would she whimper beneath him or moan and cry out, bold and unashamed in her passion?
Hell.
He skewered her with a narrow-eyed glare. “I wish for a governess to demonstrate humility. One who forces my wayward sisters to act with a care for comportment and a regard for manners. One who does not castigate me for imagined indiscretions which are of no concern to her regardless of their dubious veracity.”
“Dubious veracity?” She shot to her feet, her eyes blazing. “Why would your sisters be aware of that woman’s existence or her name if not because you brought her here to this very house? Do not think for a moment that belowstairs is not rife with information. I am aware you entertained that… female here on numerous occasions whilst your innocent sisters were in residence.”
By God, she was beautiful when enraged. All the brightness and boldness she sought to hide came to life in her anger. His body took control of his mind. He had intended to remonstrate her, to inform her he had hired her to bring a modicum of order to his restless household, to rein in his hoyden sisters. He had hired her, damn her lovely hide, so he would no longer need to think or worry or fear for their futures. So he could be free to live his life as he wished.
