He leaned back in his seat, already engrossed in the papers on his desk. “Do you? Well, follow the rules and you may think as you please.”
With an absent wave, he dismissed her.
Maggie, stifling indignation, turned to the door, opened it, and hesitated. It was foolish to seek the last word—but she could not help herself.
“As one who grew up motherless, your Grace,” she said softly, “I know how a child feels who has lost such love. One carries the weight of that absence every day.”
The duke inhaled sharply, his head snapping up. For an instant, she saw his face—startled, stricken—before she closed the door.
Outside, the corridor was empty. Mrs Thornton was nowhere in sight. Maggie picked a direction at random and walked as fast as she could.
Fool, she scolded herself.You’ve likely ruined everything before you have even begun.
Too late now. She forced her thoughts away from the stern duke and tried instead to concentrate on not getting lost.
It appeared she would fail at both.
Chapter Three
Neil stared at the closed door for a full minute after Miss Winter had gone. He found himself unsettled in a way he had not been for years. What was it about that woman that had so discomposed him?
She had been defiant, forthright, and perhaps rather more quick-tempered than a governess ought to be. She was also, in his opinion, uncommonly pretty. There was nothing wrong with a man observing the beauty of a woman, provided he kept such observations to himself.
He reached for his pen and noticed, with irritation, that his hand was shaking. How absurd.
Miss Winter was certainly not the prettiest governess he had ever employed. Miss Swaddle—the second of the three who had come and gone in as many months—had been truly beautiful. Golden hair, clear blue eyes, a doll’s perfect face. Half the menservants had been in love with her, and, unless he was much mistaken, she had been making eyes at him as well.
It had made little difference. Emma had disliked her, and Mrs Thornton had soon followed suit. Miss Swaddle had left in floods of tears within a fortnight.
So I return to my original point, Neil thought grimly.Why am I so distracted by Miss Winter?
It could only be her manner—so outspoken, so unexpected. No doubt that had thrown him off balance. Perhaps, at least, her spirit would be good for Emma. The child needed confidence, and Jenny Miller was too mild to inspire it.
Neil bent again over his correspondence, determined to focus, but concentration would not come. His pen hovered so long that a fat blot of ink fell and ruined the sheet. With a muttered oath, he set the pen aside, crossed the room, andpoured himself a measure of brandy. It was far too early in the day for brandy, but he felt shaken.
What was it she said?That she knows how a child feels, bereft of a mother’s love.
He tightened his grip on the glass.
She believes that I am a bad guardian.
There was no reply to make, even in his own thoughts. It was not a new accusation; he had seen the same quiet judgment in the eyes of several governesses—and a few so-called friends. They thought him wrong to keep Emma far from London.
“How will she marry, when the time comes?”somebody had said once.
“She is seven,”Neil had replied, tartly enough to silence further questions.
He took a long swallow of brandy and set the matter aside. Miss Winter, sharp as she was, knew nothing of his life, nor of the choices he had made. He had no intention of explaining himself. She need never know why he frequented the gaming tables, nor why Emma must be kept away from Town. There were men—and women—in London who would stoop to anything, even to using a child as leverage.
A sudden drumming of hooves sounded on the drive. Neil turned to the window and saw a lanky young man riding towards the house as if hellhounds were at his heels.
Sighing, Neil turned back to the decanter and poured another glass. A moment later came hurried footsteps in the passage, a murmur from Crawford—and then the door burst open.
“He won’t be upset, Crawford!” the man shouted over his shoulder. “He’ll want to see me, I promise!”
“Don’t be too sure, Simon,” Neil said dryly, holding out the brandy. “You only ride like a madman when you bring bad news. Out with it.”
Simon grinned, shedding his jacket and tossing it carelessly onto a chair.
